⊹₊ lance ⋆

⸸ 𝐁𝐄𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐅𝐎𝐋𝐋𝐎𝐖 ⸸

🎐 updated : 8/1/2026

🎐 theme is suguru geto from jjk and was made by @.perrasitic and @.musicmosaic

🎐 TW : this is a jirai blog and will contain triggering topics such as self-harm , disordered eating , suicidal/homicidal ideation , derealization/depersonalization , non-sexual sadomasochism , obsessive tendencies , hypersexual tendencies , talk of sa , etc. block me if these make you uncomfortable, don't report.

🎐 BYI : I am the host of a jirai-heavy tramagenic system, headmates without their own blog may occasionally post. my online activity fluctuates a lot, I could be online every day and then go quiet for a while, please be patient. I struggle with interacting, but I'm happy to make moots. I have dyslexia so sometimes I'll misread things, and most fonts tend to be hard for me to read. tone tags and plain text are greatly appreciated. I do not intend to recover, but I am pro-recovery. always iwc.

🎐 DNI : mdni blogs , blank blogs , MAGA/trump supporters , radfems , people who joke about epstien and anything similar , gen ai supporters/users (not including people with ai chatbot addictions) , pro-ana , anti-recovery , radqueers/radnormals , harmful transids , fake claimers. please keep syscourse off this blog , do not ask for a headmate to front , do not try to reality check me. I block freely.

⸸ 𝐀𝐁𝐎𝐔𝐓 𝐌𝐄 ⸸

🎐 taken by my one and only @whitecotton22 ♡ 12/5/2025

🎐 transmasc , xenofluid , gay/achillean , aroacespec , ambi

🎐 fictionkin , otherkin , agere/petre , yumeshipper , objectum

🎐 geto (jjk) permashift fictionkin and astarion (bg3) gachikoi. doubles please dni

🎐 JFM syndrome , ME/CFS , chronic daily headache , suspected POTS

🎐 avpd , dpdr , quiet bpd , gad , suspected autism

🎐 lifestyle jirai danshi , hikikomori , otaku

🎐 kuudere , dandere , (quiet) dorodere , yandere

⸸ 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐒 ⸸

❝ ⌗ . i've decided how i'm going to live. all that's left is for me to do what I can ❞ - posts related to intro

❝ ⌗ . it's a taste that nobody knows‚ the taste of a curse ❞ - my posts

❝ ⌗ . let's go home‚ riko-chan ❞ - vents

❝ ⌗ . i might share with satoru‚ so something sweet ❞ - my writing

❝ ⌗ . don't swallow it. i'll absorb it later ❞ - posts/reblogs about interests

❝ ⌗ . don't worry. we're the strongest ❞ - posts/reblogs about yumes and oshis

❝ ⌗ . i understood the ugliness of the masses ❞ - posts/reblogs about fictionkins

❝ ⌗ . if you want to kill me‚ kill me. there's meaning in that too ❞ - interactions

❝ ⌗ . i'm just fatigued from the heat ❞ - asks

❝ ⌗ . exorcise‚ absorb. over and over ❞ - reblogs

❝ ⌗ . my one and only <3 ❞ - tag for my darling @whitecotton22

⸸ 𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐆𝐒 ⸸

🎐 @the-final-messenger - yanblr blog

🎐 @thebonehoarder - boyblogging

⸸ 𝐍𝐀𝐕𝐈𝐆𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 ⸸

🎐 yan types

🎐 fictionkins/kintypes

🎐 interests

🎐 oshis list

🎐 discord is rosarymutt_

🎐 pronouns cc (wip)

🎐 hsr user id - 623049684

He woke with dirt in his mouth. 

Wet soil clogged his throat, packed beneath his tongue and into the delicate spaces between his teeth. When he inhaled, the earth inhaled with him. Cold mud slid down into lungs that should not have been breathing at all. 

The first thing he felt was hunger. Vast and red and ancient, opening inside him like a second grave. 

For one endless moment, he did not move. 

The dark was too complete to understand. It pressed against his eyes like velvet soaked in grave water. He could not tell where his body ended and the coffin began. There was only pressure. Suffocating, intimate pressure. The whole weight of the world laid gently across his chest. 

Then instinct struck him all at once. He jerked upward with a soundless cry. 

Rot-softened wood slammed against his forehead. Pain burst white across his vision. The movement disturbed something beneath his skin, things writhing lazily through the ruin of him. He felt them scatter. 

His hands flew upward. 

Splintered wood gave beneath his fingers with a sound like brittle ribs. He pushed through layers of soaked velvet and fungus and collapsing timber until his hands struck compact earth. Panic hollowed him out. He clawed harder. Fingernails bent backward, peeled away. Cold soil crammed beneath the torn beds of his fingers. 

The hunger gnawed deeper. 

It spread through him in pulses, as though something behind his ribs had awakened, starving and furious. His veins felt hollow. He could almost hear blood somewhere overhead, distant and rushing beneath warm skin. 

The earth grew thinner. Mud filled his sleeves. Worms burst slick and cold against his palms, mingling with the pale, sightless things still spilling from the open seams of his own flesh. Once, his hand brushed his face and he startled at the texture of it—skin chilled and soft, like soaked paper left too long in the rain. 

His heart did not beat. 

The silence of that realization nearly drove him mad. 

No pulse thundered in his ears. No frantic rhythm answered his terror. There was only the sound of soil shifting around him and the sharp, splintering breaths he somehow continued to drag into dead lungs.

His memories came apart in pieces. Silk gloves. The smell of wine. A room lit red as an open wound. Fangs against his throat. Then nothing. 

The hunger unfolded inside him after that. 

The suffocating stench of his own rot suddenly warped, turning sweet. Suddenly the grave smelled rich. Overwhelmingly rich. Damp roots. Decay. Fungal bloom. The sweet copper tang buried deep beneath the soil where old things had dissolved into the earth. It was the scent of a banquet. His mouth filled with saliva.

He gagged, horrified by his own appetite. 

“No,” he croaked, though his voice sounded wrong now. Frayed thin, as though unused for years. The grave gave no answer. He dug harder. 

Time lost meaning beneath the earth. Minutes or hours passed in ragged bursts of effort. Sometimes he thought he heard whispering overhead: wind moving through dead grass, perhaps, or the shifting of branches. Sometimes he imagined the entire world had already ended while he rotted beneath it. 

Still, he clawed upward. 

Roots tangled through his curls. Stones tore strips from his knuckles. Dirt packed into his ears until he could hear nothing but the wet crust of his own movements. 

Then, all at once, cold air. 

A crack no wider than a wound split above him. Thin moonlight spilled through it in a pale silver line. 

He nearly sobbed. 

With a violent lurch, he drove himself upward. The earth collapsed around his shoulders as he burst through the surface, dragging himself from the grave inch by agonizing inch like something being born wrong. 

He lay gasping on the wet grass, staring up at a sky he could now see perfectly in the dark. Wind brushed his cold skin, carrying the sharp, dizzying scent of living things moving in the valley below. 

Night swallowed him whole. 

Thank you for reading! This is my first time posting my writing on tumblr, and I'm still figuring out formatting, so I apologize for any mistakes. Comments and reblogs are highly appreciated <3

As always, no ai was used, and I do not consent to having my work fed to ai.

(read on ao3 here)

when I'm older I want to get a tattoo of astarion's scars, I'm not sure where but I would want it somewhere prominent. I know that can be a bit of a controversial topic in the fandom, as many people see his scars as a slave branding. however in the game his scars are never treated that way, he calls them a 'gift' or poem. if anything the bite scars cazador gave him are more of a slave branding. a lot of people with that misunderstandung don't really see or understand the nuance of him, I think. because astarion isn't a perfect victim. he is a very flawed character, in act 1 he isn't really a good person. but by act 3 he grows so, so much and overcomes a lot

I, along with so many other victims of trafficking, find a lot of solace and comfort in his character because he shows the raw anger and pain of surviving something like that. astarion is genuinely the only character I've seen portrayed with that trauma in a way that makes me feel seen. in his spawn route, he shows that you can heal, that you can start to live again, despite it all. by the end of the game his scars can be a reminder of everything he went through and that he survived. it's a reminder that he can heal. I want to have that reminder as well

outside of that, his character and story have helped me come to terms with my own trauma, and I want that physically represented. he also just means a lot to me