#why would that equal to him not being able to spell?

[impulse-control-not-found]

Someone please show me in canon where Bart couldn't spell to save his life because as far as I remember this man could write in cursive barely a few hours after learning how to write and EVERYTIME I see someone RPing or making meme text posts or just genuinely trying (and failing) to pass as Bart on this app all make him spell as if he's never done so in his life. Literally like a toddler who can't type the keys properly or is speaking UWU language and I just- WHERE DID THIS COME FROM

[unnecessarilygrandiose]

you ever see an opinion that's soooooooooooooooooo close to getting the point and yet somehow simultaneously managed to miss it by fivety thousand light years

[teambyler]

The most hypocritical anti Byler argument:

"Why can't two boys just be friends? Why do you have to make everything gay!?"

Whenever I hear this argument or some variation of it, I think back to my two cousins, one a girl and the other a boy. (He was from my dad's side of the family; she was from my mom's.) They were maybe six years old at the time, and they were innocently talking and playing and giving each other math and spelling-bee quizzes. ALL my family were giggling, saying they were going to be boyfriend and girlfriend.

I also think back to all the times I see young girls being judged on their physical beauty and told they're going to have a handsome boy when they grow up because they're so pretty.

From childhood, boys and girls have their sexuality assumed for them. Their SEXUALITY and romantic possibility are talked about openly in front of their face. They're made to look at themselves sexually before they even want to.

So when people yell at Byler fans saying "Why do you have to make everything gay?" I want to scream at them:

"Why do you have to make everything straight!?"

Why do you insist on sexualizing children to be heterosexual even before they're ready to start thinking of themselves in those terms?

Why do you have no problem with Mike kissing El in season 1 right after she asks him if he's like her "brother"?

Why do you idealize their relationship when they were children, while simultaneously trying to shame Byler fans for trying to "sexualize children" even though these are fictional characters and the actors who play Mike and Will are already adults?

Why do you shame any thought or possibility of homosexual romance, while imposing heterosexual norms on everyone?

It reminds me of people who say "You can be gay of course... just don't shove it in our faces (by holding forth that you're gay, kissing in public, etc.)." When no one bats an eye when straight people do the same thing. They might claim they're not homophobic, but actual equal treatment of LGBT+ people they don't accept.

It's Straight Privilege in action: the norms and standards that straight people enjoy quietly do not to apply to us.

This hypocrisy even distorts how Milkvans view Mike and El. We're told that if Mike and Will get together, that would mean Mike "used El" and El would never be able to forgive him.

Not only does this disregard that people can have amicable break-ups and still be close friends: it also shows that the idea of a platonic loving relationship between a Mike and El is beyond their comprehension. To them, the only loving relationships boys and girls can have with each other are romantic ones.

(Now, before anyone objects: sure many people accept Robin and Steve, but that's because Robin is canonically gay. We all know that before she came out many of us (me included!) were shipping those two as a couple!)

If someone ships Mike and El WITHOUT her confronting him about his poor treatment of her in early s4, without there being an honest conversation about that, this definitely raises an eyebrow from me. The "love confession" didn't address this: his fear of losing her did NOT explain his failing to comfort her or failing to say he loved her. Theoretically it's possible for these two to repair things. (And if Milkvan is endgame I hope that they do by addressing this!) But for some Milkvan shippers the need to address Mike's behavior doesn't even enter their minds because they're idealizing their relationship. In other words, THEY are imposing their idea of a relationship on these two, much in the same way my family was imposing their own ideas on my two cousins without regard to the people involved.

So if anyone asks "Why can't two boys just be friends? Why do you have to make everything gay?" it's purely hypocritical and dishonest. No, we just want THIS relationship between Mike and Will (which is clearly being built up as romantic) to be gay out of a sea of heterosexual relationships on TV.

No. THEY are the ones who rule out a boy and girl just being friends. THEY are the ones who insist on imposing romance on a boy and girl when they're not ready. THEY are the ones who insist on "everything" being one way.

-teambyler

[kekewell]

Y'all not understanding that Mary is a White-passing Black Woman is frying my brain fr.

The best way I can equate her narrative throughout the beginning is when you're a little girl and gender doesn't really matter. You play with girls and boys equally because you're all kids. And then one day the same boys you played tag with don't want to play anymore. You're only allowed to play with "girls" toys and wear "girls" colors. Adults tease you at best and outright reprimand you at worst because you still want to run with the boys who, two years ago, were your favorite playmates.

Even worse is when those same boys tease you and exclude you too, all because now you're a girl instead of just another kid.

Mary has a Black mother, grew up among the Black folks and coloreds in their hometown. Which is why she had to leave the town and the state to find opportunity. The same way Smoke and Stack went to Chicago to make something of themselves.

When Stack says, "For one night, we was free." That includes Mary.

For one night she got to be with her one true love, for one night she got to be among her people, with what remained of her family after her mother died. That's why she was so vulnerable to Remmick. Once that one night was over she'd be forced to go back to Arkansas living as a White woman, constantly longing for a home she can't return to, a love that keeps pushing her away to protect her, and praying that no one ever found out her roots because that would spell the end for her.

And she didn't go out to talk to Remmick and Klan out of White arrogance, she did it because she wanted to use her unwanted power of passing to help her family for once. Because they are her community and if she can do anything, even sus out the weird "musicians" lurking in their parking lot, she was going to do it for them.

Lastly, let's not act like Mary was the only reason Remmick was able to turn one of the twins/anyone inside the sawmill. Cornbread left shortly after her to go piss, and that's why he missed Stack getting bit by Mary and dying. Say she hadn't gone out, he'd have still had to use the bathroom and would have been let inside after being bitten without anyone thinking to stop him because they wouldn't have known not to trust him.

The whole point of Sinners is that they were all damned. Take Mary out of it, Remmick would still be drawn to Sammie. Cornbread still would have been bitten. And even if the threat of Remmick never materialized the Klan would have been there minutes after dawn.

Stop applying modern beliefs and feelings about race on a time period where one drop, passing or not, made you vulnerable under Jim Crow.

[moonselune]

Requests! This one is a little specific to my own character and story but I'll send it in anyway.

But the reactions to a reader/Tav who appears to be, and calls themselves a teifling, but is actually a true half devil/chambon(spelling unsure!). And they did not want the others to find out for very valid reasons of being killed or left alone.

oh hells yeah (literally)

Karlach:

The air around the campfire was tense, the warm glow of flames doing little to counteract the icy dread Raphael’s revelation had left behind. His smug grin lingered in your mind, even after he’d vanished, leaving the group stunned and silent.

“You’re not a tiefling,” his voice had purred moments ago, dripping with mockery. “But a cambion. How delightful. Tell me, how does it feel to lie so boldly to the very people who trust you?”

You’d lunged at him, your rage burning hotter than the flames of Avernus itself, but he’d disappeared in a swirl of smoke and laughter before you could lay a hand on him.

Now, the only sound was the crackling fire and the faint rustle of leaves in the night breeze. All eyes were on you, but the weight of Karlach’s gaze was the heaviest. Her lips were slightly parted, her fiery eyes wide as if pieces of a puzzle had just clicked into place.

“I knew it,” Karlach finally said, her voice breaking the silence. She ran a hand through her short, wild hair, her tone tinged with equal parts wonder and tension. “I knew there was something… different about you. I just thought I was losing my mind.”

Your heart clenched, dread pooling in your stomach. “Karlach—”

“No, just let me say this.” She stepped forward, her eyes searching yours. “I knew you were pretending to be burned by me before Dammon fixed me up. It didn’t make sense, but I didn’t want to push. I didn’t want to believe I could be wrong about you.”

Her words hit like a blow, and you swallowed hard, trying to steady yourself. The group around you faded into the background as the moment crystallized between the two of you.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” she asked, her voice quieter now, but no less intense. Your throat tightened.

“Why would I?” you shot back, your tone defensive but tinged with pain. “I’ve heard you, Karlach. I’ve heard what you’ve said about cambions. You’ve never had a kind word for one, not even by accident. So what was I supposed to do? Risk telling you the truth and hope for the best? Best case, you’d walk away. Worst case—” Your voice caught, and you gestured helplessly. “Worst case, you’d try to kill me.”

Karlach flinched as if struck, her fiery core dimming for a moment. Her expression twisted with guilt and something deeper, but you couldn’t bear to look at her anymore. Turning on your heel, you began to walk away, the weight of years of hiding and fear pressing down on your shoulders.

“Hey, wait—no. Stop,” Karlach’s voice rang out, firm and commanding. Before you could take another step, her strong hand caught your arm, spinning you back around to face her.

You braced yourself for anger or rejection, but instead, Karlach’s face was raw with emotion.

“I’d never do that to you,” she said, her voice breaking slightly. “Not you. Don’t you get it? I… I love you.”

The words hit you like a physical blow, your heart skipping a beat. You stared at her, searching for any sign of doubt or hesitation, but her fiery eyes held only sincerity.

“You love me?” you echoed, barely able to believe it. Karlach let out a shaky laugh, her grip on your arm tightening.

“Yeah, I do, you big idiot. Do you think I care about what you are? After everything we’ve been through? I don’t care if you’re a cambion, a tiefling, or something else entirely. You’re you, and that’s all that matters to me.”

The tension in your chest began to loosen, a wave of relief crashing over you.

“I thought you’d hate me,” you admitted quietly, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Hate you?” Karlach’s laugh was incredulous, though her eyes glistened with unshed tears. “How could I ever hate you? You’re the best damn thing that’s happened to me since I crawled out of Avernus. Don’t you dare think otherwise.”

Unable to hold back any longer, you surged forward, wrapping your arms around her and burying your face against her shoulder. Her embrace was immediate, fierce and grounding, her strong arms holding you close as if she’d never let go.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you,” you murmured against her, your voice muffled but heartfelt.

“It’s okay,” she whispered back, her voice soft but steady. “We’ll figure it out. Together.”

For the first time in what felt like forever, the weight on your heart began to lift. You weren’t alone anymore, and Karlach’s love burned brighter than any fire—enough to light a way forward.

Minthara:

The air around the group was thick with tension, Raphael's sardonic laughter echoing in your mind long after he disappeared. The devil had revealed your secret with theatrical flair, his grin widening as he relished the fallout.

“A tiefling?” he had mocked. “Hardly. You, my dear, are a cambion. How quaint, masquerading among the mortals as one of them. Hiding your true nature, like a wolf pretending to be a lamb. It’s almost endearing.”

Fury had surged through you at his smugness, and you’d lunged at him, claws bared, only for him to vanish in a swirl of crimson smoke. You turned back to the group, your chest heaving, only to meet Minthara’s piercing gaze.

She was furious. No, furious didn’t even begin to cover it. Her crimson eyes blazed with a feral intensity, and her lips curled in a snarl as she stalked toward you, her movements predatory.

“You’ve been a cambion this entire time?!” she hissed, her voice cutting through the uneasy silence like a blade.

You opened your mouth to speak, but Minthara raised a hand, silencing you with a sharp gesture.

“No, don’t even start. Let me understand this—you, a cambion, willingly chose to hide your devilish heritage? To mingle with these lesser beings? To pretend to be one of them?” Her voice rose with each word, dripping with incredulity and frustration. “People should be fearing you, revering you, bowing before your power! And yet, you’ve been skulking around, playing pathetic? Playing mortal?”

Despite her anger, you couldn’t help the small, amused smirk that tugged at your lips. Typical Minthara. She didn’t care that you were supposedly the embodiment of infernal evil. She wasn’t disgusted or horrified. No, her ire was purely about the fact that you hadn’t been owning it.

“I—” you began, but she cut you off again, pointing a sharp finger at your chest.

“Do not dare try to justify this farce to me,” she snapped. “You’ve been hiding your power like some frightened child, and for what? To blend in? To appease these creatures who should be groveling at your feet?”

You raised your hands in surrender, half in an attempt to calm her and half to stifle your growing laughter.

“Minthara, things have been complicated,” you said, your tone placating. “The tadpole changed everything. I had to play along, keep a low profile. I would have been killed in this weakened state. It wasn’t exactly optional.”

Minthara’s gaze narrowed, but some of the fire in her eyes dimmed. She took a step back, crossing her arms over her chest as she regarded you.

“Fine. I understand that,” she said, though her tone was begrudging. “But once that parasite is gone, you will drop this act. You will reclaim your place in the hellish hierarchy where you belong.”

You couldn’t help it—you laughed. A deep, genuine laugh that bubbled up from your chest, breaking through the tension like sunlight piercing through clouds. Minthara’s glare sharpened.

“Are you mocking me?” she demanded, her voice low and dangerous.

“No, no,” you said quickly, shaking your head, though the grin on your face remained. “I promise, once this is over, I’ll stop playing mortal. I’ll claim my place, for both of us.”

Minthara’s lips quirked into a predatory smile, her earlier anger shifting into something more possessive, more calculating.

“Good,” she said, her voice a sultry purr. “Not only do you deserve to rule, but I deserve it as well. After all, you are my partner, and what is yours is mine.”

She stepped closer, her fingers tracing along your jawline, her red eyes glinting with wicked delight.

“Don’t make me remind you of that again,” she murmured, her voice a seductive threat.

You chuckled, your hands settling on her waist. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

Lae'zel:

The campfire crackled, the warmth doing little to thaw the sudden chill that Mizora’s revelation had brought. Her words hung in the air, sharp and gleeful, cutting deeper than any blade.

“Not a tiefling, no, but something much more… intriguing,” Mizora had drawled, her devilish smirk twisting with delight. “A cambion. How quaint, hiding your true nature. But then again, deception is second nature to our kind, isn’t it?”

Rage surged through you. Without thinking, you lunged at her, your claws reaching for that infuriating smirk. But Mizora, ever the tease, vanished in a puff of sulfur and laughter, leaving you empty-handed and seething.

You turned back to the group, your chest heaving, only to see Lae'zel staring at you with a look that was equal parts confusion and anger. Her amber eyes burned into yours, demanding answers.

“What is the meaning of this?” she snapped, stepping closer, her posture tense and unyielding. “You are not what you claimed to be?”

The others watched in awkward silence, unsure whether to intervene, but you couldn’t focus on them. All you could see was Lae’zel, her expression a storm of betrayal and hurt.

“I can explain,” you started, your voice shaky but resolute. “The group—none of you—would have trusted me if you knew. Cambions don’t exactly have the best reputation. You would have killed or abandoned me.”

Lae’zel’s gaze narrowed, and she stepped even closer, her hands curling into fists at her sides. “You think I care about the others’ trust? About their fragile perceptions? I do not. What I care about is why you did not tell me.”

Her words struck you like a physical blow, and for a moment, you were at a loss. You searched her face, seeing not just anger but something deeper—hurt, vulnerability.

“Lae’zel, I—” you began, but she cut you off with a sharp gesture.

“Do not insult me with excuses,” she snapped. “You thought me too weak to handle the truth? Too insignificant to share your secret with? Am I just another lesser to you?”

“No!” you exclaimed, your voice rising in desperation. “That’s not it at all. I didn’t tell anyone because I was scared. Scared of what they’d think, of what they’d do. And… I didn’t tell you because… because I was afraid you’d see me differently.”

Lae’zel’s expression softened, but only slightly. She tilted her head, her eyes searching yours. “Differently? I am no stranger to infernal blood, to power, to darkness. Do you think I would turn from you because of what you are?”

You hesitated, the weight of your fears pressing down on you. “I didn’t know what you’d think. What if you saw me as a liar? Or worse, an enemy?”

Lae’zel let out a sharp breath, her shoulders relaxing just a fraction.

“I do not care that you are a cambion,” she said firmly. “What I care about is that you did not trust me enough to tell me. You are my partner, my equal. I do not take betrayal lightly.”

You took a step closer, your voice soft but resolute. “It wasn’t about trust, Lae’zel. It was about fear. But you’re right—I should have told you. I’m sorry.”

For a moment, she said nothing, her gaze locked with yours. Then, with a small nod, she spoke, her tone less harsh but still firm. “See that it does not happen again. You are mine, and I will not be kept in the dark.”

You nodded, relief washing over you as some of the tension between you eased. “I promise.”

Lae’zel’s lips quirked into a small, almost imperceptible smile. “Good. Now, let us return to camp before Mizora’s poison lingers too long. And know this—I will be watching you closely, but not because I doubt you. Because you are worth watching.”

Her words warmed you, and as the two of you walked back to the fire, you couldn’t help but feel a flicker of hope.

Shadowheart:

The campfire crackled softly, casting long, flickering shadows across the clearing as the group settled in after a long day. The air was filled with quiet chatter and the occasional clink of tankards—until Mizora decided to strike.

The devil’s voice cut through the peaceful atmosphere like a blade. Her tone was honeyed, but the malice beneath was unmistakable.

“Oh, what an interesting little secret our dear friend has been keeping,” Mizora purred, a smirk curling her crimson lips. “Not a tiefling at all. No, something far more… illustrious. A cambion, like me! How deliciously deceitful.”

The words hung in the air, heavy and damning. Your heart dropped into your stomach as the group’s attention snapped to you. Anger surged, hot and unrelenting, drowning out the myriad of emotions threatening to overwhelm you. Without thinking, you lunged at Mizora, fury written in every taut line of your body.

But, as expected, she vanished in a puff of sulfurous smoke, leaving behind only her taunting laughter. You stumbled to a stop, chest heaving as your rage sought an outlet. Spinning on your heel, you faced the group, already bracing for their judgment.

Shadowheart stood apart from the others, her arms crossed tightly over her chest. Her silver-streaked hair caught the firelight, making her look both ethereal and grounded—a sharp contrast to the pointed irritation on her face.

Her gaze bore into you, unreadable and intense.

“You’re a cambion,” she said flatly, her voice cold but controlled. “And you didn’t think to tell me?”

The accusation stung more than you expected, and your defenses rose like a shield.

“Oh, and you were so upfront about being a Sharran?” you snapped, the words tumbling out before you could stop them.

Shadowheart’s expression flickered, a mix of irritation and something softer. Her arms uncrossed, but her stance remained firm.

“That’s not the same,” she said, her voice clipped. “I told you eventually. And I didn’t have to be outed in front of everyone.”

“Sure,” you shot back, sarcasm dripping from your tone. “Because it’s so easy to walk into a group and say, ‘Hi, I’m half-devil. Don’t mind me, I’m definitely not here to corrupt your souls or drag you to the Hells.’ I’m sure that would’ve gone over great and wouldn't have ended with a dagger in my back.”

Her lips twitched despite herself, and for a moment, you thought she might actually laugh. But instead, she sighed and shook her head, her fingers brushing through her hair in a gesture of exasperation.

“You’re impossible,” she muttered, though the irritation in her voice had softened.

“And you’re a hypocrite,” you countered, though there was no real venom in your words. The tension between you had already begun to shift, the sharp edges dulled by the strange, shared understanding that seemed to define your bond.

Shadowheart tilted her head, her expression caught between frustration and amusement.

“I suppose that makes us a perfect match, doesn’t it?” she said dryly, though the warmth in her voice betrayed her teasing.You couldn’t help the chuckle that escaped you.

“I guess it does,” you admitted, the corners of your mouth lifting into a faint smile. “A Sharran and a cambion—what could possibly go wrong?”

Shadowheart stepped closer, her silver eyes gleaming with a mixture of amusement and exasperation.

“Plenty,” she murmured, her voice dropping into a low, teasing tone. “But I think we’ll manage.”

The firelight danced between you as silence settled, comfortable and charged. Then, with a soft sigh, Shadowheart reached out and took your hand. Her fingers were warm against yours, grounding and steadying.

“Next time,” she said quietly, her voice soft but firm, “just tell me. You don’t have to hide from me.”

You hesitated, the weight of her words sinking in. Then, you gave her hand a gentle squeeze, your lips curving into a small, genuine smile.

“Deal,” you said simply.

Her smile in return was faint but genuine, a glimmer of warmth breaking through her reserved exterior. The two of you turned back toward the group, their gazes still heavy with curiosity and wariness. Shadowheart’s presence beside you was a silent reassurance, a reminder that, for all your secrets and fears, you weren’t alone.

Jaheira:

The fire crackled softly, casting flickering shadows across the clearing as the group gathered for a rare moment of respite. Conversations ebbed and flowed, but Mizora's smug voice sliced through the calm like a blade.

“Oh, my, what an intriguing little secret to oust,” Mizora drawled, her lips curling into a devilish smirk. “Our dear friend here isn’t a tiefling at all. No, no. A cambion, in the flesh. What a delightful game you’ve been playing.”

The silence that followed was deafening. All eyes turned to you, their gazes a mixture of shock, curiosity, and unease.

Your heart pounded in your chest as anger surged, hot and unrelenting. Without thinking, you lunged at Mizora, but she was gone before you could reach her, vanishing in a puff of sulfuric smoke that lingered mockingly in the air.

When you turned back, your gaze fell on Jaheira. She stood with her arms crossed, her expression unreadable but heavy with thought. For a moment, you expected her to say something—anything—but instead, she shook her head and walked away.

Her retreat cut deeper than Mizora’s reveal. The sting of abandonment, of rejection, seared through you. You stood there, frozen in place, watching as she disappeared into the forest. You knew this would happen and yet it didn't hurt any less.

The minutes ticked by, each one amplifying your frustration and hurt. When Jaheira finally returned, her expression was calmer, her stride deliberate. But the moment you saw her, your annoyance boiled over.

“So that’s it?” you snapped, folding your arms across your chest. “You hear something you don’t like, and you just walk away? From me?”

Jaheira’s brows knit together, a flicker of guilt flashing across her face.

“I needed time,” she said, her voice steady but laced with sincerity. “Time to think.”

You scoffed, your anger mingling with the ache in your chest. “Time to think about what? If I was going to steal your soul?”

For a moment, silence hung between you, thick with tension. Then, Jaheira’s lips quirked into a small, amused smile, and she chuckled softly.

“No,” she said, her voice warm and gentle. “I wasn’t worried about my soul. I was thinking about how you’ve already stolen my heart.”

Your breath hitched, caught off guard by her words. Jaheira stepped closer, her eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that was both grounding and disarming.

“You infuriate me,” she continued, her tone soft but firm. “You keep secrets, you take risks, and you drive me to the brink of madness. But I love you, more than I ever thought possible.”

The anger that had been coiling in your chest unraveled, replaced by a warmth that spread through you like sunlight breaking through a storm.

“You… you love me?” you said, your voice quieter now, almost disbelieving. Jaheira’s smile widened, and she reached out to cup your cheek.

“Of course, I do,” she said simply. “Cambion or not, you are the person I chose. And I don’t regret that choice for a moment.”

Your throat tightened, emotion swelling within you as you leaned into her touch.

“I love you too,” you murmured, your voice thick with sincerity. Jaheira leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead.

“Then let’s not let Mizora—or anyone else—get between us,” she said, her tone gentle but resolute.

You nodded, a faint smile tugging at your lips. “Agreed. But next time, don’t walk away. Talk to me.”

Jaheira chuckled again, a low, warm sound.

“Next time, I’ll try,” she promised. “But you might need to give me a moment to collect my thoughts. You have a habit of throwing surprises at me.”

You laughed softly, the tension between you dissolving. Together, you turned back toward the campfire, hand in hand, ready to face whatever came next—together.

Gale:

“Ah, the stalwart heroes!” Raphael drawled, striding through the inn’s double doors as if he owned the place. His crimson skin and tailored suit practically glowed in the faint light. “So gallant, so brave. And yet, so…deceptive.”

The group bristled, hands inching toward weapons. Shadowheart’s hand hovered near her symbol of Selune, while Lae’zel scowled deeply, her blade already partially drawn. Gale, seated beside you, stiffened, his eyes narrowing as he tracked the cambion’s every move.

“What are you doing here, Raphael?” you snapped, your voice sharp with anger. “Haven’t you caused enough trouble?”

Raphael smirked, his fanged teeth gleaming. “Trouble? My dear, I merely make deals. And speaking of deals…” His eyes flicked to Astarion, who looked away, his jaw tight. “Our little arrangement went splendidly. Isn’t that right, Astarion?”

The vampire spawn didn’t respond, his silence damning. He hadn't heard exactly what he wanted to hear.

“And it did bring to light an intriguing little detail about one of your companions here.” He continued as he turned to you, his smile widening. “Or should I say, one of my kin?”

The room froze. The words hung in the air like a dagger, poised to strike. Your blood ran cold as all eyes turned toward you.

“What are you talking about?” Gale demanded, his voice sharp and incredulous.

Raphael’s smirk deepened. “They’ve been masquerading as a tiefling, but the truth is far more interesting. They’re a cambion—just like me.” He tilted his head, studying you with mock curiosity. “Tell me, does it burn, pretending to be something so…ordinary?”

Fury erupted within you, hot and uncontrollable. You lunged at Raphael, your hand reaching for his throat, but he vanished in a swirl of smoke and brimstone before you could touch him. His laughter echoed through the room, mocking and cruel.

Breathing heavily, you turned back to face your companions. Gale’s expression was a mixture of shock and disbelief, his lips parted as if he were struggling to find the right words.

“Is it true?” Gale asked, his voice tight. “You’re a cambion?”

You swallowed hard, your fists clenching.

“Yes,” you admitted, the word barely more than a whisper.

Gale blinked, as if trying to process this revelation. Then his bewilderment turned to frustration, and he began pacing. “Unbelievable! Truly unbelievable. All this time? You’ve been a cambion this entire time? Do you know how—how staggering this is? The implications, the—”

“Oh, really?” you cut in, your voice rising. “Do you want to talk about staggering implications, Gale? Like, I don’t know, keeping a Netherese ticking time bomb in your chest?”

The words landed like a slap, and Gale froze mid-step. His face reddened, and he rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly.

“Fair point,” he muttered. “But still, this is…unexpected.”

His tone softened as he stepped closer to you. “You could have told me,” he said, his eyes searching yours. “You should have told me. I would have understood.”

“I didn’t know if you would,” you admitted, your voice cracking. “I didn’t know if any of you would. I thought you would leave me for dead.”

Gale’s expression softened further, and he placed his hands gently on your shoulders. “I won’t lie—this is a lot to take in. But it doesn’t change how I feel about you. You’re still you. The person I’ve come to care for deeply.”

Your breath hitched, and you allowed yourself to lean into his touch. The tension in your chest eased, if only slightly. After a moment, Gale’s lips quirked into a small, wry smile.

“You know,” he said, a teasing note in his voice, “I think I have a type. First, Mystra—a literal goddess—and now a cambion. Truly, my taste in lovers is nothing short of extraordinary.”

You let out a surprised laugh, some of the weight lifting from your heart. “A cambion you love more than the goddess, I hope?”

Gale chuckled, pulling you into a warm embrace. “Oh, without question,” he murmured, his voice filled with affection. “The goddess never made me laugh like you do. Or challenge me. Or steal my heart quite as completely.”

You smiled against his chest, your arms tightening around him. “Good answer,” you murmured.

Astarion:

The cozy interior of Last Light Inn was momentarily at peace, the dim light from the lanterns casting warm shadows on the wooden walls. The group gathered near a table, recovering from their latest trial. Astarion was leaning casually against a chair, sipping some blood he had managed to find with that perpetual smirk on his lips, while you tried to focus on the conversation without getting distracted by him.

Then the doors swung open, and Raphael’s silky, mocking voice cut through the room like a blade.

“Well, isn’t this a cozy little gathering?” Raphael drawled, his crimson skin glinting under the inn’s dim lights. He strode in with an air of supreme confidence, his piercing gaze scanning the group. “A fine collection of misfits and secrets. Speaking of which..” He turned his attention to you, his smile growing sharper. “I’m here to reveal a rather… salacious secret about your companion.”

The tension in the room became palpable. Everyone’s gaze shifted to you, confusion and curiosity written on their faces.

“What are you on about now?” Shadowheart asked, her voice laced with suspicion.

“Oh, nothing too scandalous,” Raphael said, his tone dripping with mock innocence. “Just that our dear tiefling here isn’t a tiefling at all.”

The words hit like a thunderclap. The group exchanged bewildered glances, and you felt your heart drop.

“What?” Karlach growled, her eyes narrowing.

Raphael’s smirk widened. “They’re not a tiefling. They’re a cambion. Like me. Infernal blood through and through.” He tilted his head, feigning curiosity. “I wonder, how long were you planning to keep that little tidbit hidden?”

Fury surged through you. Before you could think, you lunged at him, but Raphael vanished in a puff of cherry, musk and sulfur, his laughter echoing in the room.

When you turned back to face the group, your chest heaving with anger, your eyes immediately met Astarion’s. His expression was… unreadable at first. Then, slowly, he raised a hand to his chest in mock shock, clutching at an invisible set of pearls.

“A cambion?!” Astarion exclaimed, his voice dripping with dramatic flair. “I simply cannot believe it! All this time, you’ve been walking among us, hiding your true nature? The betrayal! The scandal!”

“Astarion,” you began, but he held up a hand, silencing you with a theatrical gasp.

“Don’t speak! I’m too overcome with emotion. How could I have been so blind?” He staggered back, pretending to reel from the revelation. “To think, I’ve been consorting with the offspring of devils! Oh, the shame! The intrigue!”

You groaned, pinching the bridge of your nose. “Astarion, please.”

He wasn’t done yet. He leaned against the table dramatically, looking at the others. “What will become of us? Can we trust them? Will they lead us into temptation? Or perhaps they’ll summon a horde of demons to devour us all!”

“Astarion,” you said more firmly, your irritation growing.

Finally, he dropped the act, standing up straight and letting out a laugh. “Oh, do relax, darling. I don’t care one bit.”

The sudden shift left you blinking in surprise. “You… don’t?”

He stepped closer, his crimson eyes gleaming with mischief. “Of course not. If anything, it makes you even more captivating than I already thought you were. A cambion? How deliciously exotic. It explains so much about you—your charm, your fire.” His lips curled into a sly smile. “You’re not just a lover, you’re practically temptation incarnate.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, the tension in your shoulders easing. “You’re ridiculous.”

“And you’re irresistible,” he countered, his voice dropping to a soft purr as he leaned in close. “I must say, I’ve always had a taste for the forbidden.”

You rolled your eyes, but a smile tugged at your lips. “I suppose this means you’ll never let me live it down?”

“Never,” he said with a grin, taking your hand and pressing a kiss to your knuckles. “But don’t worry. I think you wear your infernal heritage rather well.”

As the rest of the group began muttering amongst themselves, trying to process what had just transpired, Astarion slipped an arm around your waist.

“Come now, darling,” he whispered. “Let’s leave the dramatics to Raphael. I much prefer to focus on the more… enjoyable aspects of your devilish nature.”

Wyll:

The campfire crackled softly at the edge of the Last Light Inn, the warm glow flickering over your companions as everyone settled down for the evening. You leaned against a log, watching the group converse. Wyll was seated beside you, recounting tales of his heroics to an eager Karlach, who hung on every word. The air was light, a rare moment of peace.

Then, the scent of brimstone wafted through the camp, and the air turned heavy. Mizora stepped into the clearing, her elegant yet sinister presence drawing all eyes to her. Wyll immediately tensed, his hand instinctively brushing the hilt of his blade.

"Ah, my dear Blade of Frontiers," Mizora purred, her smile dripping with malice. "And the rest of you charming miscreants. What a delightful gathering."

"What do you want, Mizora?" Wyll growled, his voice hard.

She sauntered closer, her devilish grin widening. "Oh, nothing too disruptive. I just couldn’t resist sharing a delicious little secret about one of your companions." Her eyes gleamed as they locked onto you. "Tell me, Wyll, do you really think you know the one sitting beside you?"

Wyll frowned, his gaze darting to you briefly before returning to Mizora. "What are you talking about?"

Mizora’s smile turned razor-sharp. "Your so-called tiefling companion isn’t a tiefling at all. They’re a cambion. Like me."

The words hung in the air like a thunderclap. You felt your stomach drop as every pair of eyes turned to you. Wyll barked a short, incredulous laugh, shaking his head. "Ha! Very funny, Mizora. But even I’m not gullible enough to fall for that."

But when he turned to you, his laughter faltered. Your expression—tense, uneasy, silent—told him everything.

His eyes widened. "No," he breathed, his voice barely above a whisper. "You’re not…?"

Mizora clapped her hands together with a gleeful cackle. "Oh, this is priceless. I’ll leave you all to sort through this delightful mess. Enjoy." With a snap of her fingers, she vanished, leaving the camp in stunned silence.

Wyll turned fully toward you, his face a mixture of disbelief and something close to despair. He pinched the bridge of his nose and groaned loudly, slumping forward as if the weight of the revelation had physically struck him.

"How do I do this to myself?" he muttered, his voice muffled by his hands. "Most people live their entire lives without encountering a single cambion. Me? I’m serving one and now… now I’m lying with another."

You shifted uncomfortably, unsure of what to say. Tentatively, you reached out, patting his back awkwardly. "I… I’m sorry, Wyll."

He sighed, lowering his hands to look at you. His expression wasn’t angry, just deeply bewildered. "I mean, what are the odds? Twice? It’s like I’m cursed—or worse, drawn to you infernal types. Why couldn’t I have a nice, simple life like everyone else?"

A small laugh bubbled out of you despite the tension. "Simple doesn’t really suit you, Wyll."

He groaned again, but there was a wry smile tugging at his lips. "You might be right about that." He exhaled deeply, running a hand through his hair. "And you—you really are a cambion?"

You nodded slowly, your heart pounding. "I am. I… I was afraid to tell you. To tell anyone. I thought you’d look at me differently, kill or abandon me. I mean… most people don’t exactly trust devils."

Wyll gave a small, rueful chuckle, shaking his head. "If anything, this just proves how much of a fool I am. Because…" He hesitated, his dark eyes meeting yours. "Because I love you. Cambion or not."

Your breath caught. "You… you love me?"

He groaned again, covering his face with his hand as if he couldn’t believe he’d just said it. "Yes, I do. I must be losing my mind, but I do."

A soft smile spread across your lips as warmth flooded your chest.

"Oh, Wyll…" You leaned forward, cupping his face gently. "You’re not losing your mind. You’re just… you. And I love you for it."

Wyll dropped his hands and looked at you, his expression softening into something tender and vulnerable. He pulled you into an embrace, holding you tightly.

"Blade of Frontiers or not," he murmured, his voice low, "I’m your love first. Cambion or not."

You nestled into his arms, feeling safe despite everything. In that moment, it didn’t matter what you were or what secrets had come to light. You had Wyll, and he had you—and together, you could face anything.

Halsin:

The warm light of the campfire at Last Light Inn cast flickering shadows over your companions as everyone settled for the evening. The atmosphere had been jovial, with laughter and shared stories filling the night air. But that peace shattered when Raphael appeared, his presence commanding and unwelcome. His smirk gleamed in the firelight, his tone smug as he addressed the group.

“Well, well, dear adventurers,” Raphael began, his voice dripping with amusement. “It seems secrets abound in your merry band. Shall I share one, free of charge?”

Everyone tensed, weapons instinctively shifting closer. Your blood ran cold as Raphael’s gaze landed squarely on you.

“Oh, don’t look so startled,” he drawled, his smirk widening. “It’s not as though I’m revealing anything that you’ve been forthcoming about. Tell me, my dear tiefling… or should I say cambion?”

Your heart plummeted, the air around you thick with tension.

“You bastard,” you hissed, launching yourself at him, but Raphael merely snapped his fingers and vanished in a swirl of smoke and brimstone.

You landed hard on the ground, seething with fury and shame. When you looked up, the weight of your companions' stares bore down on you. Most faces were unreadable—shock, confusion, maybe even suspicion. But your gaze immediately sought Halsin, your newly kindled love.

He stood stoic, arms crossed over his chest, his brow furrowed in thought. His silence was deafening, and panic surged through you. Scrambling to your feet, you rushed to him, desperation in your voice.

“Halsin, please, you have to understand,” you began, your words tumbling over each other. “I didn’t choose this. I didn’t choose to be born a cambion. I swear to you—I’ve only ever done what I needed to survive.”

His gaze was steady, but he said nothing, his silence fueling your growing fear.

“I have no warlocks,” you continued, your voice breaking. “No thralls, no imp army, nothing like that. I’m not like them. I’ve tried so hard to—” You stopped, choking on your words as tears began to blur your vision. “To be good. To do good.”

Your hands trembled as you clutched the front of his tunic, your voice cracking as you whispered, “Please, Halsin, I—I can’t lose you.”

He sighed deeply, the sound grounding you for a moment as his large hands came up to gently cradle your face. “Enough,” he said softly, his voice calm but firm. “Breathe.”

You hiccupped, trying to steady yourself, but the tears wouldn’t stop. Halsin’s thumbs brushed them away, his touch warm and soothing. His expression softened, and he leaned down so his forehead nearly touched yours.

“I believe you,” he said simply.

You froze, your breath hitching. “You… you do?”

“Yes,” he replied, his voice steady and full of conviction. “I see no malice in your heart, no darkness that you haven’t already fought to overcome. I only wish…” He hesitated, his gaze searching yours. “I only wish you had been the one to tell me.”

Guilt twisted in your chest. “I was afraid,” you admitted in a whisper. “Afraid of how you’d look at me, what you’d think. That you may kill me for what I am."

His hand moved to the back of your head, pulling you into his chest. His heartbeat was steady, a grounding rhythm against your ear.

“You need not fear me,” he murmured. “What you were born as does not define who you are now. And who you are, I love.”

Your breath hitched at his words, and you clung to him, the weight of your emotions spilling over.

“I hate him,” you muttered against his chest. “Raphael. I hate him for this.”

Halsin chuckled softly, a low rumble in his chest. “As do I,” he agreed. “He delights in chaos, but we won’t let him win. Not here, not now.”

He held you close, his embrace strong and unyielding. Slowly, the panic ebbed, replaced by the warmth of his presence and the strength of his belief in you.

This was so fun to write and icl in one of my runs i had my tav as a cambion romancing minthara just because i think that dynamic is just so fun. Hope you guys enjoyed it ! - Seluney xox

If you want to support me in other ways | Help keep this moonmaiden caffeinated x

[jyoongim]

Imagine though, you see Alastor and assume that he's the one in full control during sex but the reality is that behind closed doors his ass is absolutely pathetic for his woman, falling to her feet, kissing them and being a pretty little pet

Happy Valentines Day everyone <3, hope you get off to some nice fics today and take care of yourself babes

Themes: fem!reader, face-sitting/riding, fluff, antlers, soft!Alastor, pet names, slight begging, Alastor lowkey pussy whipped.

If anyone knew Alastor, they knew just how terrifying he could be.

The Radio Demon always wore a smile on his face.

He was intimidating, dangerous, cunning, and unpredictable.

So why in the seven rings, were You not afraid?

When Alastor came back for his seven-year absence, he had a pretty sweet thing by his side.

Unlike the arrogant demon, you spoke softly if not ever at all. You were kind and treated everyone equally.

You must be something real special to have been able to deal with the Radio Demon.

If someone took a look at you and Alastor, they would immediately think that it is Alastor who calls all the shots.

In some way that’s true.

In the public eye, though Alastor kept you by his side, it was often interpreted that you were more like arm candy, nothing more than a pretty face he kept.

But never trust appearances.

For the feared Radio Demon who maintained an air of confidence, behind closed doors always showed how much he appreciated you.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You giggled at the sound of a record scratch as you got ready to settle in bed for the night.

Alastor was reading a book, sipping on some tea as you dropped your robe to get into bed.

His ear twitched at the sound of the fallen clothing and when he glanced your way, he short-circuited.

You were beautiful. 

Hair tied in a wrap to make sure your curls stayed in place. Your thin, silk nightie clung to your full figure as you applied your lotions and ointments. You sighed happily as you finished up your night routine.

Alastor didn’t register that he had even got up until he was kneeling in front of you, smile soft as he caressed your legs, hands starting to at your foot

You tilted your head at the demon “Alastor?”

A chaste kiss was pressed inside your ankle as he rubbed your feet.

You relaxed as he worked the kinks out your legs and feet.

Maybe it was because he was a serial killer alive, but damn was he good with his hands.

You grabbed at his loosened tie, letting him crawl up your body. You peppered his face with kisses, shyly nipping at his lips. You figured that this was gonna turn into a lusty rendezvous ,so when you went to unzip his pants and he denied you, you were confused.

Alastor chuckled, kissing your shoulder “Let me take care of you mon cher you always do so much being my good girl”

He slipped back to settle between your thighs. His hands caressed and kneaded at the soft flesh, even giving you a slight nip to get a gasp out of you.

He flicked your nightie up, smirking at your bare cunt. A low growl rumbled in his chest as your scent wafted to his nose. He pressed a kiss your clit, causing you to jump

”Not yet”

Alastor hands roamed and kneaded you as he mumbled his praises.

Alastor was under your spell the moment he met you. You had a way of making him a bit softer than he was use to.

He kept you by his side without a deal and loved every moment of it.

He would do anything you asked. 

Anything you want, it was yours by his command.

He would tear Hell apart if anything happened to you.

You were his muse.

His goddess.

His to care and provide for.

Only you were capable of getting the Radio Demon to be domesticated.

Only dedicated to you.

What a clever minx you were…

Alastor sucked a perky nipple into his mouth. Moaning as your body seems to light up.  Your chest pushing the mound of flesh into his mouth as he tugged and teased the peak.

Deeming your nipple was abused enough, he switched to the other, pinching the other.

A whine tore through you as he teased soft circles on your clit. “A-Alastor”

He shushed you as you grinded against his hand

”Ask and Ill give you anything darlin”

”T-Ton…”you panted as he tugged at your ear with his teeth. He hummed ”hmmm?”

You took a deep breathe, head lolling as he dipped a finger inside you. “I-I want to cum o-on your t-tongue”

Though Alastor usually took the reigns in every other aspect of your relationship, in the bedroom it was you coaxing the maniac to be soft.

Alastor took orders from no one.

But he did like the praise and acknowledgment you gave and that was enough to fuel his ego.

”Then take it”

Your cheeks were heated as you looked at the red demon beneath you. He was smiling as he looked back up at you.

He kissed your inner thighs, waiting on you.

waiting for you to let your desires to overtake the usual sweet personality you had.

”Tongue out” you said softly, finding purchase on his antlers, that were now big as branches.

You felt his warm, wet tongue loll out his mouth, grazing your cunt.

You steadied your grip and without a second thought, sat on his  mouth.

Your claws dug into his antlers as you moved against his tongue.

Alastor was quite happy underneath you, tongue lapping as you used him for your pleasure.

Soft moans and groans bounced off the walls as you coated Alastor’s face in your slick.

”Oooooh fuuccckk ah!”

Usually you begged. 

Begged for Alastor to give you that sweet release.

But you were going to take it.

And make him beg.

”A-Alasstoorr ha!” His ears perked at your enticing moan around his name.

”You’ll look so pretty covered in my cum aha! Would you like that? Hmmm?” 

You were riding his tongue as if his cock. Feet planted and thighs caging him in. 

“I’m gonna cum Oh! Ah!” Using his antlers, you angled his head so his nose bumped your clit with each roll of your hips.

”c-cummin’ i-i aaahh! Fuck! I’m cumming! I’m cumming! Take it take it. Be a good boy, Swallow my cum hmmmm yeeesss oh!”

The soppy slurps and curling of his tongue sent you over the edge.

Huffing you raised your hips, not wanting to kill the demon from being smothered.

”i-I’m sorry Al I didn’t mean-”

Your hand brushed against a heavy tent in his pants

But Alastor’s arms wrapped around your waist, pulling your sensitive cunt back down.

“I don't mind dearest. You should relish using me for your pleasure…I’m your good boy after all”

Alastor might be a scary powerful overlord…but he was a big softie when it came to his woman. 

Absolutely worshiped the ground you walked on.

Only you could turn the monster into a purring kitten.

And he’d have it no other way.

@alishii @alastor-simp @alastorsaries @alastwhore666 @alastorsdear @okay-babe @sssandychemd @ioniiaa @catherine69420 @danveration @bookishcatcafe @altruisticalastor @markster666 @citrussmootee @brechdan-ham @wisteria-seal @dasimp777 @goth-mami-writer @gojosaturos-wife @alastorsfawn @coleisyn @horrorartsworld @dennsfz @fatnug @prosciuttosblog @spalimly @crazyforbarnes @eviebuggg @polytheatrix @queenariesofnarnia @lunaramune @kassa-stardust @alstorloml @scaramoochiie @strawberrypimp666 @simphornies @yourdoorisunlocked @zombiesnips-blog @stawberrypimpsimp @absurd-ash @peachedtv @kiralaufeyson84

[cakypa120]

Ever since I've seen Thomas post I've been having the in the crack idea where the Justice League is stuck and Captain Marvel's mind a Billy's mind

And they see the fact that he had a Summer romance with Thomas Wayne back when he was younger to wear the fact that Thomas made him a ring that said champion on it and an ancient Greek said his name

It's a ring the Batman that never understood he always thought it was a connection to his mom but never understood the ancient Greece on the bottom no matter how hard he tried

With the rest of the Justice League stuck in Captain Marvel's mind watching as he stepped into one of his old memories and sat there and cry at a stupid ring and get the child version of him got upon his finger Batman no Bruce understood what the rain meant

While it was so safe for a boy who would never grow up to be with the man that he loved for a man who would never be able to watch the love of his life grow up

To equally two different sides of heartbreak of people who will always love each other but will always be kept apart in different ways

Is anywho Billy and Thomas being the Greek gods version of a modern romance tragedy

Billy was panicking. Most of the League was in his memories. Right now he was casting a spell that would send them back.

Flash: Marvel, you're so cute!!

Right now they were seeing a memory where he and Mary were covered in mud.

Hal: Look at those cheeks!

The heroes were cooing. Billy was quietly crying and casting a spell. As the last syllable left his lips he exhaled. In a few moments they would be back in reality. What could happen?

Thomas: Billy!!

Marvel freezes, as does Bruce. All the heroes see the two boys hugging each other tightly and kissing each other on the cheeks. Marvel's face turns red in a second, Bruce and the rest of the heroes look at the boys with their mouths open.

Thomas: Billy! Look what I made for you!

Billy: This ring!? Unbelievable!

Thomas held a wooden ring in his hands. Uneven and small. Something a child had made.

Thomas: When we grow up, I'll buy you a real one!! Look, I even carved the word "Champion"! I've always associated it with you!

Billy: Hee hee, wow, is that ancient Greek?

Thomas: Yes! It means...

The memory fades and the heroes stand in the void. They slowly turn their heads towards the Captain. Tears were streaming down Marvel's face, and he was looking at where little Thomas had stood a second ago.

Marvel: Oh, Thomas.

The voice is hoarse and sad. A sudden jolt sends them back to reality. Marvel quickly leaves the Watchtower, saying that he has some business to attend to.

That evening, Bruce holds the box where his parents' things were kept. He looks at the small ring that he thought was meant for his mother. It turns out it was for Marvel, for Billy. Bruce always wondered why the inscription was in ancient Greek. Neither of his parents were interested in history or anything related to it. But Billy's parents were archaeologists. Bruce takes the ring, he needs to return it to its rightful owner.

Batman: Captain. Can I have a minute?

Marvel: Sure, sure.

Bruce holds out his hand, holding the ring. Marvel gasps and looks at him in shock.

Billy: This is...

Bruce: This is the ring. I always thought it was for my mother. But it turns out it was always yours. Now I'm giving it back to you.

Billy takes the ring carefully, as if it were made of very fragile glass, not wood. Tears are streaming down his cheeks, and his lips are trembling as he presses the ring to his heart.

Bruce: I always wanted to know. What does the inscription in ancient Greek mean?

Billy: "Gift from the gods." Gods, Thomas, how did you...

Billy cries quietly, and Bruce stands next to him, clapping him on the shoulder.

Later, Billy sits on the mattress and looks at the ring. It only fits on his pinky. But that was enough for Billy. He thought the ring was gone forever. Thomas took it back when he realized it didn't fit on Billy's ring finger. Thomas did make it bigger, but time passed and the ring still only fits on his pinky. Billy laughs at the situation while he cries. He kisses the ring. One of the few reminders of Thomas.

[annie-creates]

Projections

Pairing: Bodhi Durran x reader

Genre: angst

Words: 2900

Note: Hopefully this is the good old kind of angst I'm good at, I almost cried myself writing this. Please be aware not every detail might be completely true to the canon source material.

Bodhi Durran swiped you off your feet, you didn’t even notice how. You had been friends for almost as long as you studied at Basgiath. He naturally gravitated towards you after threshing and since then you were an unbreakable duo. It was like knowing him your whole life, the way he always knew what to say to make you laugh or how to get on your nerves regarding the simplest things. But to Bodhi you weren’t just a friend, you were everything.

His advances started sometime during the Christmas of your first year at the college. By the New Year he wasn’t hiding his attachment from anyone. You didn’t even notice at first, it was normal for best friends to spend almost all their free time together, right? But his gaze lingered longer during the late-night study sessions, boring into you like he could reach your very core. His strong fingers rested on your waist in passing a minute too long, his touch clearly possessive to anyone else.

You’d be lying if you said you never thought about Bodhi in that way, but you were too scared to lose what you had if it were to not work out. Being friends was safe, familiar. Friendship you couldn’t fuck up. Relationship? Those were too damn complicated. But Bodhi saw. The way you chewed on your bottom lip when he fought without his shirt in challenges, the way you tried to avoid looking at his towel when coming fresh out of the shower.

“You’re the most ethereal person I have ever seen.” He whispered to you on the sundown of Reunification day, hidden in the tall towers of Basgiath, afraid to break the quiet spell between you.

“You’re too kind.” You rolled your eyes playfully, not leaving the grasp of his hands on your face.

“I’m only truthful.” He promised before finally kissing you.

The ground spun under you, gravity no longer tying you to earth. You hugged his waist, kissing him back with all the emotion you were too afraid to act on. Lucky for you Bodhi was courageous enough for the both of you. Before the next school year came, you two were an established thing everybody knew of. The two of you weren’t exactly capable of hiding your relationship, and you didn’t really want to either. Let the whole world know the loving Bodhi Durran was your man.

With the second year around the corner, you were faced with new challenges and classes, but you’d be lying if you said you weren’t equally excited. Xaden had graduated and you and Bodhi would have more time to spend together, away from his suspicious eyes. Honestly, Xaden Riorson scared you a little. You were happy to not live under his surveillance anymore. But the free time only existed in your theory.

Not only did you have new rounds of challenges, where you had to fight for your life, and the RSC training now. It seemed that any time you were able to take for yourself, Bodhi wasn’t there. You could count on one hand how many conversations you had with him in a week. For the first few times, you could understand. He surely had some leadership stuff to attend to. But weeks turned into months.

Any time he actually was there, and you dared to question what he had been doing, he only got defensive. You didn’t want to ruin your evenings, the little time you actually got with him, but the sudden change in the man who would have given anything to be glued to your side only mere weeks ago was evident and upsetting.

“What is it Bodhi? Where are you disappearing to all the time?” You practically begged him for answers.

“I’m just busy Y/n.” He retorts tiredly.

“Busy with what?” You pressed.

“None of your business!” Bodhi screamed, flooring you.

“Is there somebody else?” You whisper, almost too afraid to even ask.

“What, you think I’m a cheater? A traitor? Why do you keep questioning me!” And just like that you ruined the night once again for the both of you.

“I’m sorry…” Not even knowing what you’re really apologizing for you leave him alone.

You spent the night in your own bed, tossing and turning till dawn. You did not see Bodhi for the next three days. You tried to spend time with your other friends and your squad, but in the quiet empty evenings your mind still wondered to your boyfriend. And then he missed your birthday. You cried yourself to sleep that night, mentally drained and tired. You thought he’d remember the next time you met, but he didn’t. He talked to you like nothing was going on, and you just went with it, missing your usual enthusiasm, which he didn’t even notice.

“I feel like ho doesn’t listen to me anymore. Like he doesn’t even care.” You confess in Dain, your oldest friend in this place.

 “Did you talk to him about it?” He offers, ever so helpful.

“I tried, but any time I say anything, he just gets angry and it leads nowhere.” You sigh.

After the first-year’s threshing, you noticed another girl, Sloane, who picked Bodhi’s friends’ interest. Violet told you she’s Liam’s sister, and considering how close Liam was to their squad, you could understand. But you didn’t miss that the time Bodhi did spend around was all now devoted to her. Training her, teaching her, all the things he would have done with you were now given to her and it’s like no one even noticed.

On yet another lonely night you decided to use for training in the gym, you bump into Xaden in the rotunda, he must have been on his regular visit to Violet. You’d know his commanding voice anywhere. The hushed conversation that flows makes you still, the unmistakable voice of your boyfriend accompanying him. So he had time to sneak around with his friends, yet couldn’t spare a minute for you? You can’t stop the pang of hurt and jealousy in your heart.

“Maybe you’d like to know we’re not alone anymore.” Xaden’s cutting words flow before you’re pushed forward by his cold shadows.

“Y/n.” Garrick, the last person in their group, states matter-of-factly.

“Are you sneaking up on us?” Bodhi questions you, arms folding over his chest.

“What? Why would I be sneaking up on you..? Are you meeting up like this more often?” Your brows furrow.

“Wouldn’t you like to know.” Xaden suspects you with a meaningful look to the other men.

“So that you can tell on us to your dear friend Dain?” Bodhi adds.

“Why would I do that?” You fold your arms over your chest, your own anger rising.

“Don’t think I didn’t notice how cozy you are with Aetos now.” A flash of jealousy flares through Bodhi’s eyes.

“No, you don’t get to do that.” You furiously shake your head. “Not when you’ve said more words to me tonight than you have in the past month!”

“I told you I’m busy.” He spits.

“With what!?” You finally let out your built-up irritation with him. “Or should I be asking with who? Don’t think I didn’t notice how you’re fussing over Sloane now!”

“I told you I’m no cheater!” Bodhi’s voice rises even more with frustration.

“Then who are you! Because I don’t even know you anymore!” You let the painful truth out.

“You don’t know me?” He laughs coldly. “Maybe because unlike you, I’m not a traitor who’s just been with someone to get information out of them.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” Your voice shakes as the first tears drop down your face.

“You’ve been with me just to use me. So you and your precious leadership can know what the dirty marked kids are up to, haven’t you.” He states much too calmly for the weight of his accusation. “The constant questioning, how persistent you were. It all makes sense now.”

“I was asking because I’m your girlfriend! Of course I’m worried where you are!” It’s getting hard to see through the tears, so you furiously wipe them off your face.

“Well you won’t have to worry now.” He grounds you.

“I can’t believe you.” You shake your head. “You have talked to me less than ten times in the last month, and now you accuse me of… I don’t even know what exactly. Yet I’m not the one who hasn’t been around, I’m not the one who’s constantly too busy for you… I’m not the one who even missed your birthday.”

You whisper the last sentence and run away, unable to listen to him breaking up with you. What did you do to deserve this outburst? You couldn’t find a moment where you pressed him too much, or when you weren’t being supportive, even over a little apprehension. And this is what you get back? A boyfriend who accuses you of using him in the first real conversation you have with him in weeks? You wouldn’t be surprised if the whole college had heard your screaming match, but you couldn’t find the will to care.

The next few weeks fly by in a blur, challenges, flight lessons and RSC now successfully kicking your ass. You didn’t have time to mourn your relationship, you were so exhausted from training that you passed out the moment you hit your mattress every night. Before you can fully heal from the last round of torture training, you wake up on the hard cold ground of the forest in October, so far from the college you don’t even recognize the place.

Your squad is accompanied by one from second wing and two sets of infantry cadets, everyone confused by the location, time of day, or the drugs they had to give you to drag you here. Your squad leader is not here, but you always worked nicely as a group, so you’re not too worried. The clouds above you do seem unsound tho, you better get back into the safety of Basgiath’s walls before they fulfill their promise of a heavy storm.

“Welcome to land navigation exercise.” Professor Grady greets you. “We expect you to use your best skills to return to the college, and remember, no use of dragons is allowed.”

With that you’re left alone again to figure out your way back yourself. Which didn’t go quite that well. You were lost in five hours, camped out by the river overnight, got soaked on the next day by heavy rain and had to go back ten kilometers just to return on the right track. The towers of Basgiath appeared on the horizon by the end of day three, all of you exhaling in relief. You were about ready to devour any food you’d be able to find, wash the disgusting dirt off and pass out in the comfort of your bed.

You’ll never complain about the comfort of your room again, anything was better than the stone floors of caves and wet grounds of the forest. The courtyard of Basgiath is strangely quiet, but it may be because curfew is already in effect. But nobody could be too mad at you for wandering around when you just showed up after technically being lost for three days, right? Yet the eerie silence doesn’t sit right with you.

A dragon lands on the stone wall, more of them following right after, yours included. You all look around in confusion, and then all hell breaks loose. Understanding fills the eyes of your companions as your loyal dragons rely on all the information of the past few days. Xaden Riorson breaking into the college, Violet Sorrengail’s torture, the cadre of Navarre’s betrayal and the departure of everyone who wanted to fight the right war to Tyrrendor. Your head swims, filled with all the new information and you’re suddenly more than awake in your mind, even though your body is slow to follow.

Your group breaks into a short discussion, opinions coming from all sides. Some thought Riorson was a filthy traitor, some believed you should follow him into the unknown because he couldn’t have deceived the dragons. After an hour of pointless arguments, you decided to split. Most of the infantry decided to stay, but your full squad wanted to desert to Aretia. You weren’t Xaden’s biggest fan, but you trusted your dragon and they wanted to go. Plus you were honestly scared what the leadership would do to you for knowing such things they tried for centuries to hide.

The sun was already setting when you finally returned to the college, but by the time you mount your dragons the light is long gone. It must be close to midnight, as you fly over Navarre, too tired to hold yourself on your dragon properly. Land navigation did nothing to help your bruises from torture training heal, and now flying on the verge of your strength didn’t make it better.

You can sleep, loyal one. I will take care of you. Your dragon promises lovingly.

I don’t want you to bother. You yawn even in your mind.

It’s no bother, I’m very proud of you. They assure you as you feel them striping you to their back with strong magic, making sure you won’t fall off.

Even though the flight takes hours, the sleep on your dragon’s back doesn’t really provide you with a lot of rest. You arrive in Aretia about an hour after the sun is already up, a few familiar dragons accompanying you to the grounds of Riorson house led by Sgayel. The moment your feet touch the ground, your body is ready to give up, but you force yourself upright. At the door you’re greeted by a Tyrrendor’s official.

“I’m lieutenant Aisereigh, welcome to Aretia.” A man not too older than you smiles down on your battered group. “You must be coming from Basgiath. Welcome to the revolution.”

He gets you settled in student dorms, briefing you in on the schedule and rules of the place. He also reiterates the whole tale of Navarre hiding the existence of venin and how the majority of Basgiath War College relocated here. You finally get a shower, breakfast and a real sleep. After a week you finally feel like a person again, not completely drained and disgusting.

The next day you join the provisional classes, meeting up with your squad discussing all the changes and heading to lunch. In the hall though you’re met with the sight of Xaden and his full squad of followers, Garrick, Imogen and least of all Bodhi. For a moment you hope they didn’t notice you, but his eyes meet with yours and their conversation dies down constantly. Before you realize he’s hugging you, whispering pleads and praises to gods into your ear.

“Oh my god, I’m so glad you’re okay.” He breaths, crushing your bones in his iron grip.

“What the hell are you talking about.” You gather all your will power to push him away.

“What..?” He reluctantly steps away, disoriented by your cold treatment.

“Where the hell did you get the audacity to talk to me like that!” You let your anger fill you. “I spent three days fighting through the forest and when I finally come home, the whole college is gone!”

“We needed to save Violet, and then we…” But you’re having none of his excuses.

“You left me! You left me there!” You blame him.

“We had to get the students to Aretia.” Bodhi opposes.

“You didn’t think of me for a minute, did you.” Your accusations aren’t exactly false. “You didn’t even remember to give a damn about me.”

“Of course I cared about you.” He argues. “I wanted to look for you if you didn’t come here…”

“Yea? Don’t even get me started on that!” You push your finger into his chest. “How long has this been going on? Why did you never tell me!?”

“We had to keep it all a secret…” Bodhi defends.

“Were you planning another revolution this whole time?” His guilty look tells you enough. “You question my loyalty, you accuse me of spying, of not loving you… and in the meantime it was you! You were just using me!”

“No, Y/n please, I love you, you have to believe me.” He pleads, eyes filled with sorrow now.

“I see now that your accusations of treason were just projections of your own doing.” You force your tone back to uninterested calmness. “Gods, I love you, but I hate you so fucking much.”

“Honey don’t say that…” He tries to catch your sight again, his hand desperately grasping yours. “I can’t lose you.”

“You’ll get over it.” You step away from him, your eyes watering with tears. “Maybe Sloane can help you with that, since everything seems to be so much more important to you.”

You run away to join your squad, willing your tears to dry up. He wasn’t worth the hurt, you wouldn’t miss someone who constantly put you on the bottom of his priorities now. If he doesn’t care enough about you anymore, neither will you. You’ll ignore the breaking of your heart until only dust is left of it. You weren’t going to remind him to care about you, if this is the path he has chosen, you’ll let him walk on it. Sometimes loving someone isn’t enough.

[dekariosclan]

A Tav who, from the first moment they meet Gale, knows they could never be his equal. A Tav who is painfully aware that they are lacking in intelligence, but not wise enough to know how to improve it. A Tav who isn’t handsome, beautiful, or attractive. A Tav who doesn’t love their own body, the sound of their own voice, or the face that looks back at them from the mirror. A Tav who is kind and gentle with others, but not with themselves.

A Tav who cannot understand why Gale fell in love with them, much less why he was so eager to wed them. A Tav who now constantly asks themselves: How did they get so lucky as to be loved by this man?

They watch Gale with affection as he pours over tomes in their home in Waterdeep, night after night, breezing through ancient writings that they themselves know they would never be able to comprehend or follow. They love to listen to him talk, and nod with genuine interest as he tells them everything he’s discovered; not completely understanding, but only asking questions on the rare occasions when they truly cannot grasp what he’s trying to convey. They wonder if their stretches of silence secretly annoy Gale, or if their occasional questions do, but he never seems to be anything other than elated as they listen to him. How did they get so lucky as to be loved by this man?

At his request, they often join him at Blackstaff Academy for lunch. They watch as his colleagues engage him in scholarly discussions that they cannot participate in. They see the glances he gets from his more attractive colleagues, interest that goes beyond professional courtesy; yet he still breaks away as quickly as he can to whisk Tav off to the solitude of his office, sit down next to them, kiss them, ask them about their day. How did they get so lucky as to be loved by this man?

They greet him warmly when he arrives back home every evening. On the nights that Gale cooks, they love to watch him prepare meals, his hands as graceful and deft as when he’s casting spells. On the nights that they cook, they always feel a slight pang of anxiety, wondering if the simple meal they’ve prepared is good enough, but Gale showers them with compliments and cleans his plate every time. The stories Gale shares from the Academy over dinner are as interesting as they are amusing, making Tav laugh almost as much as the bad puns he sprinkles into the conversation like seasoning. They try their best to match his wit when they tell him about the events from their day, but they always feel that the stories they share are much less amusing or interesting than his, even though Gale listens with rapt attention to every word. How did they get so lucky as to be loved by this man?

One evening, as the sun dips slowly into the sea from their view on the balcony, Gale suddenly stops speaking. Tav looks up in surprise, as he’d been regaling them with discoveries from an ancient text he’d finished reading.

“Is everything alright, love?” They ask, their heart suddenly pounding as they see Gale staring at them intensely. He responds with a soft apology, and says that it just occurred to him that he has a question he needs to ask them. Most urgently.

The pounding of their heart now fades to a hollow echo, as they’re sure they know what he will ask: Why would a man of his talent and understanding continue to stay with someone as mediocre, unimpressive, and plain as they are?

…but instead, he takes both their hands in his, holding them gently but firmly, and gazes lovingly into their eyes. “I spend my days caught up in academic discussions, decisions and debates. I do enjoy it of course, for the most part, but…to come home to you, to be able to talk without being judged or spoken over, to have your calm attention, the balm of your quiet intellect and understanding…you are an oasis for my soul.” He smiles and lifts their hands to his lips, kissing them reverently. “I’ve read so many books, learned from the brightest scholars, and yet, I still cannot understand…how did I get so lucky as to be loved by you?”

[yumeurl]

for my last reblog i didn't want to talk about drarry in op's tags but this is exactly why i love the pair so much...even non romantically speaking. as much as annoying and a bully draco is, it's only through him that harry can truly act like his age

it's never serious with them, draco would annoy harry and harry would have a clapback and maybe they would duel and show off their newly learned spells and that was that. draco would be envious of harry's popularity and insult him for it, but he never really treats him like someone to be revered at, and i think part of harry enjoys just being able to have schoolyard rivalry where both of them are equals

and maybe that's why he clings so much to it during hbp, that when draco starts going out of character and ignoring him he's obsessed in finding out why, because something that gives him a semblance of normalcy can't possibly disappear now. but after sectumsempra it does (and, coincidentally or not, harry tries to find another sense of normalcy immediately through ginny)

[afurtivecake]

You know what my actual favourite Andrew Minyard line in the whole series is? It's not his sentimental lines like, "...from now until May you are still Neil Josten...". It's not even the best love confession in all of literature line, "Doesn't mean I wouldn't blow you." It's when he says "I'm not as smart as I thought I was."

That one line tells you so much about Andrew's character. That's the line that spells out for the reader that Andrew is smarter than he chooses to let on. That's the line that shows you just highly Andrew thinks of his own intelligence and how much he's been relying on it to survive and to keep his promises.

Consider that up until that point Andrew has presented himself with nothing less than the domineering kind of toughness you'd expect to see in a prison scene in a movie. He openly talks about breaking Neil, threatens multiple people with knives and makes everyone work around him. His "tough guy around town" persona and his ability to inflict violence is clearly something he prizes. AND YET. The first time he admits to any kind of dissatisfaction with himself, it's about his intelligence.

That is the point where the reader realizes that Andrew, in his own mind, is an intellectual. He doesn't actually pride himself on being the toughest guy in the room. He's aware that he's all of 5-feet-nothing and he knows at any given moment there's likely to be someone bigger and stronger than he is. What he's counting on in any given situation is being the smartest guy in the room. Fix any issues before they worsen, anticipate and eliminate any threats before they surface, think his way out of any problem that comes up. His intelligence is what he relies on to keep his promises.

That's the moment Andrew realizes that he's been letting his feelings get the better of his logic. He clocks Neil as dangerous from day one. But he's been telling himself that he's letting Neil stay for Kevin's sake or at least just until he can definitively prove Neil is dangerous. But the real reason he let Neil stay and get away with all his sketchy behaviour is because he let the fact that he likes Neil as a person, overcome his logic.

It makes you think, OH, THAT'S WHY Andrew was so interested in Neil in the first place. For someone who prides himself on his intelligence and KNOWS that no one else can match his smarts, Neil figuring out his twin switcheroo trick is the same as Neil throwing down the gauntlet and challenging him to a battle of wits. Andrew keeps trying to trip Neil up and Neil keeps batting his attempts aside and Andrew ends up helplessly charmed by Neil. Because Andrew LIKES that Neil is able to outsmart him sometimes, that Neil is his intellectual equal. And somewhere along the way, he's let himself forget that he "knows better" than to get emotionally attached, than to let someone else best him at his best quality- than to act like every other idiot in love that he's ever met.

You then realize that Andrew hasn't once thought of himself as brawny jock. That off-putting delinquent/school-shooter vibe and "psycho" reputation is a carefully calculated form of self-defense. It's self-defense in the literal sense of scaring off people who might want to fuck with him, but perhaps also in the sense of protecting himself from being seen. It makes sense, right? If people were to actually try to get to know him with an open mind, they'd soon discover that he IS difficult to get along with in ways they thought they could handle, but can't. Better to act the volatile asshole than suffer the disappointment of people changing how they treat him. And in the unlikely case that people find out that he isn't as tough as he presents himself, they might pity him. And that would be even worse. Much better to be as un-fuck-with-able as possible.

First time reading the book, I was taken in by Andrew's jock-ish façade. But the moment he admitted maybe he ought to be disappointed in himself for not being as smart as he thought he was, I had to set the book down and rethink every assumption I had made about Andrew as a character. The timing of that revelation is so perfect, because it happens just before the Thanksgiving mess. And so as the reader, you're suddenly coming to terms with the fact that Andrew is so much more vulnerable than he's ever portrayed himself to be at the same time that Andrew is being hit with probably one of the worst moments in his life. Like, that absolutely TOOK ME OUT. Which is why, that's one of the best lines in the whole series to me.

[reverieblondie]

The Dare

Pairing: Miguel O’Hara X Spider-woman!reader

Warnings: 18+, NSFW, Smut with Some Plot, Stealing Stuff, Voyeurism, Masturbation, Degrading, Unprotected Penetrative Sex, Hair Pulling, Fingering, Reader is called Slut.

Summary: Hobie takes the dare game up a notch. Unexpected events ensue...

A/N: This is my first fanfiction ever so please be kind!  If I missed any warnings or my grammar and spelling sucks please just let me know. I thought this idea was funny so figured I would share! 

Word Count: 5,757 (still working on my editing skills so warning)

Hobie casually struts into view, wearing Peter's favorite pink robe. He has a smirk on his face. He obviously was successful in the dare.

You, Hobie, Gwen and Ben were passing time at HQ by having a friendly game of daring each other to do things, you all recently got done with a mission so it was perfect to kill time, Gwen had suggested truth or dare but Hobie said that dares only would make for a better game. It started innocently enough like reading the last text message you sent your crush, drinking a bottle of hot sauce but you can’t drink anything else for 10 minutes, and going to dance in the cafeteria to no music to see if anyone joins you, but it quickly diverted to more dangerous dares.  

“I can't believe you were able to get that” Ben laughs out as Hobie strikes poses while Gwen and you cheer him on 

“Oh this was nothing mate, I do believe that is your turn for a dare Miss Y/N” 

You look at Hobie with a smirk, if he was trying to scare you it wasn't going to work.  “I can handle whatever you throw at me Hobie, all these dares have been a cakewalk so far” 

Hobie smirks, “Why don't we get you something challenging then, hm?”

You shrug feeling confident “I'm not scared of any dare”

“Any dare?”

“Yep!”

“No backing out aye?”

“No backing out” you grin, feeling that he wouldn't be able to think of anything too crazy, but you forget this is Hobie, and he loves to push the limits.

Hobie thinks for a moment, his face contorted with thought, and then a wicked smirk flashes on his face, he looks at you and leans in knowing he had a perfect dare. 

“I dare you to steal a pair of Miguel's underwear” Gwen and Ben exchange shocked looks then look back at you, brows furrowed mouth agape you are equally as shocked by the request.

“What?!”

Hobie goes to repeat but is quickly cut off by you interrupting him “Eh…Please don't repeat it I heard you.” This causes Hobie to laugh

“So are you game?”

you think for a moment, that stealing Miguel’s underwear…this was definitely a challenge and a bit of a gamble on your life. But you would never hear the end of it from Hobie if you backed out now. Face riddled with concern you look up at Hobie, a fire in your eye blooms not wanting to be beaten. 

“I'm game!”

You and Hobie shake hands the dare is on, no backing out now. 

You first had to think about a game plan to get Miguel's underwear. It's not like you can just walk up and ask the guy, he was the big boss he could crush your head like a peanut. Plus it didn't help that you had a fat crush on him, and now you have to nab his underwear.

Taking a deep breath you headed to Miguel's room in HQ. You ducked around corners and made sure you were not being followed or looking too suspicious, though that wasn't easy to do considering you were sweating bullets. Miguel's room was known to be located at the top of HQ, being the leader and founder of the Spider Society means you get to have a penthouse suite at your job you guess. 

You had only ever been to the door of his room once, you had forgotten to give him your mission reports on time so you had to hand deliver them one night at Miguel's irritated request, you remember that night having to rush the paperwork over and banging on the door, for Miguel to reveal himself in sweatpants and an oversized shirt hair lose from a recent shower. Seeing him in such a casual state had worsened your crush.  Miguel just gave you the same furrowed expression he always seemed to have glued to his face, looking you up and down before he took your reports without uttering a word to you. 

After that night you couldn't help but fantasize about Miguel doing more casual mundane things, like grocery shopping or maybe telling jokes to you, the guy was in a consistent state of stress so thinking about him relaxed made you excited. People might think it would be weird but hey it's your fantasy, not theirs.

Finally making your way to the top you peek around a corner looking at his door. There is no one around from what you can tell, so you check your watch. Perfect it's still afternoon, Miguel, the workaholic he is, never leaves his office early so you still have plenty of time. Sneaking over to the door you try the handle, and to your surprise…it's unlocked? Huh? Miguel should lock his room. There are some real weirdos out there, the current weirdo being you. Then again what idiot would be dumb enough to sneak into Miguel's private space? Oh yeah thanks to the dare, you! 

Through the door you steadily walk in, the living room is huge, nicely lit, minimalist design, and very clean, a total opposite to Miguel's office which is dark with all kinds of clutter. A nice large sofa and a TV that hardly looks like it's ever been used decorate the space, attached to the vast living room, a kitchen with a sleek-looking island and very modern appliances, some you can't even recognize. As you go further and further in his suite, you tiptoe around looking at everything, if you didn't know this was Miguel's place you would have never thought that anyone lived here, so devoid of any kind of personality. Maybe he's just a minimalist? 

As you quietly walk through the impressive suite you hear a noise that stops you in your tracks. You look and see a door that is slightly cracked, you examine the door cautiously slowly making your approach. Another noise draws you in closer, a grunt?

 Thanks to your careful steps you manage to sneak to the door and peer inside without making a sound. Peering through the slit of the door you lean in to survey what caught your attention, your eyes widened at the sight and your breath instantly halts. 

There he is Miguel, your leader, your crush fully nude standing in his master bedroom, head thrown back eyes screwed shut, fangs fully extended, moaning in pleasure as he tightly fucks his cock with his hand. His hips are jutting forward slightly, his angry red tip leaking glistening precum that only aids in his feverish fucking. His muscles are tense and rippling, each moan makes his massive body shake. You are mesmerized by the sight, you're sure your jaw is on the floor. You are watching Miguel O’Hara fucking his hand chasing any kind of release.

 Continuing to watch his relentless pursuit, your excitement builds as you watch. Mouth dry and wanting to desperately attach yourself to his cock and lick and suck till your thirst is quenched from his release. Your thoughts run rampant, you shouldn’t be watching this, it's wrong, but you can’t take your eyes off him. His tanned skin glowing with the subtle sheen of sweat, his moans egging him on and equally you. 

The whole display has you tightening your thighs together, your arousal ls pooling in your panties. He starts to move with more sloppiness, slipping incoherent words in Spanish to the air and he gets close to his high. Then to your pleasure, sticky white ropes escape him and cover his large hand painting him white. He continues to pump for a few more moments, slightly shaking as he does. He then opens his eyes, grabs a towel resting on his bed and cleans himself, as he’s cleaning he gives a small sigh looking more relaxed during his come down and takes a deep inhale from his nose. Then he stops and his face contorts to confusion, taking another whiff of the air again he looks towards the slightly ajar door. 

You jump quickly backpedaling from the door, did he see you? Shit you need to hide, you quickly tiptoe to the next door finding yourself in what looks like a home office. You look around the room quickly scanning for a place to hide, a desk catches your attention, this will have to do. Quickly hiding below it you hear Miguel walking slowly into the room looking around. Heart beating rampant you place your hand over your mouth and steady your breathing, you can not get caught he will kick you out of society or worse kill you! 

Miguel scratches his head and gives a slight “huh” before leaving the room and going back to the bedroom. You wait a few moments before you poke your head out cautiously. Looks all clear, you quickly go to make your escape, but then you stop the dare…you got to get that underwear, it was just a stupid game but your pride was going to get the better of you and you didn’t want to be subjected to Hobies teasing of how you couldn’t hack it after all your big talk. You swallow down your fear and turn towards the bedroom door. 

You approach the door hesitantly and place your ear to it, you hear what sounds like a shower, Miguel must be doing some aftercare for himself. Taking all risks you gently open the door and peer inside your spider senses helping to guide you through feeling no immediate danger. Peering inside you see the room is empty. Walking in you look for a dresser but with no luck, the only thing you see is a large bed and nightstand, ever the minimalist huh Miguel? Your eyes go to the door on the side of the room where you hear the shower being used. 

This is stupid, this is stupid, this is stupid! You're going to get seen! Thinking to yourself as you slowly crack open the door to the master bathroom. Looking through the crack you see a silhouette of Miguel in the shower, the glass is steamed over from the intestine heat of the water he is cleaning himself with. It’s so hot that as you carefully crawl in you feel the heat and humidity in the air thick and making it hard to breathe. 

Miguel is something else to take such scouring showers. You look around, eyes darting all over the floor for any chance of dirty clothes and then to the fogged-up shower making sure he is still blissfully unaware of the invasion of privacy. Your eyes catch what looks to be another door that you are betting to be his closest, you quickly crawl over and sneak into the closet carefully shutting the door behind you. 

Looking around the closet you see a variety of different clothes ranging from tee shirts and jens to luxury suits and jackets. Your attention falls to a leather jacket that you can’t help but touch, imagining how wonderful he must look in this jacket, what you wouldn’t give…you quietly slap your hands to your cheeks trying to refocus. you're on a mission here! 

Surveying around your eyes lands on what seems to be a dresser. Quickly rushing over you open the first small drawer, socks in various neutral colors. Okay, drawer number two, you open and bingo! There they are Miguel’s assortment of underwear, boxers or briefs? He’s a brief man.

Eyeing the underwear you feel a tinge of embarrassment and guilt looking at his underwear, this is pretty perverse, you already watched him masterbait now taking his underwear? Well, it's only because of the dare that makes it less perverse right? You did get excited from watching him, do you have a problem? Too horny maybe? You shrug that’s something you will ponder another day, today you have a mission. Plunging your hand in the drawer you take the first pair your hand falls to, navy blue. This will have to work!

Still hearing the shower you are thankful he seems to be taking his time. Going to make your escape you head for the door, then just your luck, the shower turns off, fuck. Quickly backtracking to the closet you hide yourself leaving a crack so you peer out to watch. 

Miguel wipes the fogged-up glass of the shower revealing his damp hair cascading down his forehead, the water rolling down his chiseled physique, you feel your heat dripping down as you watch. Note to self find an excuse to pour water on Miguel so you can see him dripping wet again. You watch with intrigue as he swiftly wraps his towel around his narrow waist drawing attention to his deep v.

It takes everything in you to not drool and melt away into a puddle on his floor. Every movement of his routine made you desire him more and more, you were down bad. Miguel brushes his hair back with his hands and that has you almost losing all sense, why is everything he does so sexy? You need to get a grip. Studying him you wait for an opportunity to make your escape without getting caught, just have to be patient now. He's looking at himself in the mirror looking at his jaw and inspecting his face, he then widens his lips to reveal his teeth and fangs on full display.

The sight of his fangs has you holding your breath. That’s right if you get caught he would have no problem using those things on you, actually, that’s not a terrible idea…no! Too horny, get out of here! 

Miguel opens a drawer at the sink and pulls out some floss, he tentatively pulls a long string out and begins to floss around his teeth making sure to go carefully around his fangs. Why is this oddly adorable? Scary Spider man adorably flossing, and very cute. Miguel gets done flossing and licks his teeth, then something you never thought you would ever see. He smiles to himself in the mirror before quickly going back to his permanent neutral state. Too bad he doesn't smile more often; you often try to make him smile when you get to interact with him at work. Telling jokes, funny stories, smiling and waving as you pass him but nothing has ever seemed to work out for you. 

Miguel sighs and shakes his head going away from the mirror to his bedroom. Okay, enough daydreaming you need to get out of here quickly. You decide the best way to sneak out is to crawl on the wall, you start scaling the wall crawling on the ceiling. He left the door to the room open so you peek your head in, and it’s all clear. You crawl through and go to exit his bedroom as you are about to get down to open the door. It swings open causing you to quickly flatten yourself to the ceiling. Miguel walks in with a bottle of water in hand still in a towel from the shower. As he is right under you he stops and sniffs, shit shit! Why does he keep doing that? Do you smell? You took a shower this morning, you should not be smelling. 

As Miguel whips his head side to side you quickly and quietly slip out the bedroom before he has a chance to get wise and look up. 

You quickly get down from the ceiling and start making your pursuit to the door. You did it! You made it, you got the underwear! Oh, the look on Hobie’s face is going to be priceless!

Suddenly, as you are about to reach out to the knob and make your escape, feeling the high of success you are pulled back and swiftly turned around to be met with a crimson-eyed Miguel, and he looks pissed. It’s in this moment you wish to see Miguel who was smiling but you're not getting that side of him you're getting Miguel burning with rage. “I thought I fucking smelled you…” okay wow, ouch? Do you smell bad? Before you can say anything his hand grabs your face and squeezes your cheeks “What are you doing in my room?” 

You stare at him, lips puckered and eyes wide, this is how you die…

Miguel squeezes you harder “Answer me…” he growls, he’s so close to you, you can feel the vibration in his chest, his heat burning your skin his smell invading your senses, it’s intoxicating being this close, he's not wearing a shirt and only in those familiar sweatpants, you can’t help but notice your panties getting soaked. However you can’t get lost in the fantasy right now, you’ve been caught and you need to focus on not losing your life. 

“I’m sorry” you mutter out as best you can. Miguel continues to stare daggers into you, he wants more of an answer than that. 

“I didn’t think you would be here”

Miguel releases your face and now keeps his hands on your arms pinning you to the nearest wall. “Why would you even come in here?” He looks you up and down for a moment and that’s when he sees what’s in your hands, his eyes widening in surprise “Is that…” 

“Wait! Miguel, I can explain! This isn't what it looks like!” 

Miguel tilts his head at you, “Yeah? Because it looks like you're a nasty little perv” 

His derogation sends shivers down your spine and makes your sex even more wet.

Miguel studies you seeing your flushed features, can he sense that you're getting turned on? The answer is yes, “I should have known you were here, your sweet scent tainting the air.” 

Okay, what the hell? You furrow your eyebrows at him “Do I smell? You keep saying that I smell?” 

Miguel lifts an eyebrow at your face still stern but not so much angry “I can smell your arousal pooling in your panties” he grips you tighter “I may not have that little danger alarm like the rest of you but that doesn’t mean my other senses are not heightened. And right now I can smell just how excited you are, was this your plan? Watch me, take my underwear, and get caught? Or is getting caught just a pleasant surprise for you?” 

Miguel lends down whispering in the shell of your ear, his warm breath causing your skin to tingle “And don’t try to deny it” 

Your breath hitches for a moment “I didn't mean to watch it was an accident”

“What about you getting so turned on?” He stares intensely at you, you feel your face flush with embarrassment and clench your thighs together. You are turned on, desperately so. His voice is so sultry, even him bullying you is causing you excitement. Looking into his red eyes his face seems less of rage and more of fascination. 

“I-I couldn't help myself.” 

His hands slowly slide down your arms to your waist, and he buries his head in your neck, smelling you taking you in. The feeling of his breath fanning over your skin makes you think you will instantly melt. Your eyes flutter, closed breath becomes heavy and he rubs his nose slowing up your neck. Finally, he moves away from your neck and looks at your blown-out eyes and flushed cheeks, he smirks, oh you're in danger. 

Miguel suddenly turns you around pressing your chest and face to the wall, his hand grazes your ass before roughly spanking you, causing your hips to buckle forward releasing a high-pitched yelp. His weight leans on you and his knee drives up into your wet cunt, the slight friction makes your head jerk back and clit to tingle. Miguel chuckles and he brings his face into your hair smelling you before reaching and grabbing a handful of hair, pulling slightly. His lips slightly graze your ear as he speaks. 

“You're a bad little slut aren't you?” 

“N-no'm not” 

Another spank smacks across your ass “Oh, I think you are though. Sneaking in here watching me and taking my stuff, good girls don't do that.” He purrs 

He leans more into you and you can feel just how big and hard he is. Miguel's hands find the zipper to your suit slowly zipping it down “Tell me to keep going, tell me how much you want it” 

Pushing yourself from the wall you nod your head, your mind hazy from the desire to be touched more. Forgetting all about pride, forgetting all about the dare, your only thoughts are your desires.

Miguel tsks at you and stops unzipping your suit “Use your words Cariño or I will stop” 

“Yes, I want it! Please!” You whine slightly rubbing yourself on his knee desperate for any kind of friction. 

“What are you bebé?” Releasing the zipper of your suit that now reveals your bare back to him, He swiftly brings a hand to tug your hair, he's going to make you beg and plead, isn't he? Biting your lip you feel him shove his knee further into you, his other hand going to your hip to help guide you as you rub yourself practically riding his knee like a bitch in heat as he continues his torment.  

“Your needly slut! Please just take me Miguel!” 

With that Miguel releases his grip from your hair and hip peeling down your suit revealing your naked body to him, he eyes you for a moment drinking in every curve and dip of your soft skin slowly running his hands down your sides whispering incoherent filth in your ear before he quickly turns you around and scoops you in his arms carrying you to his bedroom. 

He practically kicks his door in tossing you on the bed, before you can get your bearings his hands are on your ankles dragging you closer. He stares intensely at you like a predator about to devour its prey. 

Miguel crawls on top of you, his breath fanning over your lips, he carefully takes his thumb and swipes it over your bottom lip. “Soft…” is all he mutters before he kisses you, softly first then quickly heating up to a sloppy ravenous hunger to taste you. His hands paw all over your body squeezing all over and grabbing handfuls of you desperately. When you break away for air he can't help but  

lick wet stripes on your neck then give you slight nips, his fangs slightly grazing you careful not to break your skin.

He trails down peppering kisses down your heated body, your bra is quickly tossed off of you causing your breast to bounce before him letting out a yelp to the suddenness of his action. Miguel stares for a moment watching your nipples peak, He just smirks and massages them before latching himself to your peaked nipple, first lapping with his tongue before biting with a tug. You moan and whimper at his teasing, playfully biting and licking one as he pinches and pulls the other. 

He travels lower, his eyes staying on your face watching each reaction, he's studying you, he wants to note what every kiss, bite, lick, and tug does to you. When he finally reaches your heated sex he examines your panties, soft blue with a very noticeable dark spot, he rubs his middle finger across your wet panties taking in how your body shakes at his touch and you push yourself into him more. The hard-on in his sweatpants is aching to be released, but he wants to punish you for your perverted behavior.  

“Look at what you have done to your pretty panties princesa, acting like a dirty slut has ruined them” his finger rubs on your clothed clit digging into your folds and ruining your underwear further. You can only moan and plead for him to continue, your cunt aching to be filled with anything, getting impossibly wetter as he continues his teasing. Rocking your hips faster on his finger desperate for friction on your clit, you really are needy. 

 He slaps his hand down on your clothed cunt causing you to jump and moan at the bullying. “No, rushing me princesa” he's making sure to go painfully slow, he wants you to beg for it. 

He slips your panties off slowly, watching your sweetness leak out of you, your needy pussy is clenching around nothing desperate to be filled. You are a rambling mess of pleading and whimpering as Miguel tortures you with his slow lingering touches. Miguel slowly dives his face into your cunt and nose pushing your clit making your body jerk and moan, he takes in your smell getting drunk on your sweet secretion. He lifts his head and leads his head on your thigh “Such a sweet-smelling slut, you know how long you have been teasing me?” 

He starts to run his finger through your slick folds “walking around me all aroused, making me have to smell you without getting to taste you”

He Plunges his finger into you, his large finger going knuckle deep and curling slowly in you, his thumb rubbing slow circles on your clit making your vision blur from how deep he is. As you wetten he slips in another finger filling you up, your breathing becoming desperate, back starts to arch, and hands flying to your hair. He continues his pursuit moving his fingers around your gummy walls searching for that sweet spot of yours. When it's finally found you're seeing stars and clenching tightly on his fingers, your hands flying down to hold his wrist as he continues to make you ride his hand. Miguel just watches as you approach your high “Do you know what all that teasing does to a man?”

He suddenly pulls away as you are reaching your peak. His fingers are glazed with your wetness. Smiling down at you he puts his wet fingers in his mouth and sucks them clean, eyes never leaving yours. He takes them out of with mouth with a pop “Makes a man hungry Hermosa” 

 You have tears pooling in your eyes being robbed of your orgasm, you start begging him to continue whimpering and flustered as he just watches you beg. 

“You're such a needy little slut huh?” 

 Nodding feverishly you agree to everything that leaves his mouth

“You know? I think I know how to correct your bad behavior”

Standing from the bed he removes his sweatpants, his hard cock flicking up to hit his stomach leaving precum in its wake. Staring intently at you he starts pumping his massive cock throbbing for friction. All you can do is watch him wide-eyed sure you saw it earlier but now it's going to be inside of you. His length and girth are so big you don't even know if it would fit in your tight pussy, but you are aquiver to try, whimpering at his display. 

“We got to fuck it out of you Hermosa, you want that? You want me to fill up and teach you a lesson?” 

You nod and spread your legs wider for him. Miguel slips out a moan, eyeing your spread open sex. All for him, begging for him, he almost can't help himself from immediately thrusting into you.  

“Words?” he says, still pumping himself, raising an eyebrow.

“Yes, yes I am bad, teach me a lesson! Fuck me, ah please Miguel!” 

Miguel Grabs your face and laughs at you “No need to beg, such a desperate thing” he shakes his head. Teasing still makes your skin tingle and nipples to perk evermore. Truth be told he loves your begging, he's getting drunk off your eagerness for him. 

He watches as your cunt clenches around nothing begging to be filled. He lines up and slowly rubs his length between your folds gathering your slick before slowly inching in his tip. His cock feels like fire as he slowly stretches you open, heating your soft slick walls. Your hands gripping his shoulders as you try to keep from clenching allowing him to slip in.  

“Mm, that’s right, fit it in Hermosa” 

The initial pain quickly becomes pleasure as he splits you open, heating you slowly going inch by inch stretching you deliciously. Your eyes start to roll in the back of your head and you close your eyes, letting the pleasure take over you. Suddenly Miguel slams his full length into you, filling you instantly and bullying into your cervix, the head of his cock nudging your g spot. The sensation causes your eyes to shoot open, you digging your nails into his shoulders and the air in your lungs to escape you.  

“Keep your eyes open and on me” 

Following his demands you watch him, eyes glaze over as you get cock drunk on his relentless rutting. Miguels just laughs as he rolls his hips back and slams into you again and again forcing you to stretch open and take him in. Usually, he would warm someone up a bit more before he starts fucking them so forcefully, but you've been a little pervert so you need to be taught what happens when you're bad. All you can do is moan and shake as he bullies your tight cunt making it form to his shape.

“That's it, baby, take it”

He continues to rut into you pulling back to the tip before slamming back in, thoroughly fucking you dumb. Eyes crossed and mouth hanging open muttering incoherently. Miguel leans down and kisses you sloppily still fucking you at a brutal pace, taking your jaw and making your mouth open wider he spits in your mouth. 

“Swallow” he demains 

Quickly following his demands you swallow and open your mouth again to show him how obedient you can be to him, you really are like a dog.. 

“Good girl” He rewards you by snaking his hand to your clit and rubbing it in circular motions. 

You are quickly approaching your high toes curling, legs wrapping around Miguel's waist, and hands clawing into his back leaving scratch marks painting all the way down his back. Your walls start to clamp down on him.

“Ah, Mig ah Miguel I'm close, please!” 

 His massive cock abusing your sensitive spot has you seeing stars and pussy creaming all over him, leaving a white ring around his cock finally cumming around him. He continues chasing his release as he helps you ride out your orgasm. His cock continues to fill you pulsating as he reaches his orgasm. The sounds of your wet pussy and the slapping of skin fill the room. His rhythm becomes sloppy and pounding harder into you 

“You hear that? Ah, such a needy pussy. Where do you want it huh? When does my dirty slut want my cum? Her stomach? Ah, Face? Mm inside?” 

“Inside!” You beg, approaching your second high. 

“Oh? Do you want me to fill you up? Such a greedy slut aren't you?”

You begin to see white, his relentless pace making your head empty.

“I said, Aren't you!” he pounds harder, making everything shake and you scream in pleasure. 

“Yes! Im so fucking greedy!” you're practically sobbing at the pace he's set. You think you're going to break as he takes your legs and pushes your knees to your face, making him slip what you thought was impossibly deeper. Miguel angles himself that has you clamping down on him squirting out on his cock.  

With that Miguel stops moving, hips completely flushed with you, his body shakes as he releases his hot thick cum inside of you giving out a moan that vibrates through his wide chest. His hot load warms your insides, mixing in with your release causing you to shudder. Miguel looks down at you and smiles still staying in you, he leans his massive body over you and kisses you while pulling out. The emptiness makes you whine and he quickly goes to look at his handy work. 

He holds your ankles out so you have to be stretched before him, your abused clit red and sensitive, your hole filled with his sperm leaking out. Quickly taking his thumb to the escaping mess he pushes it back into your hole causing you to shake with overstimulation. 

“Mm, Such a pretty mess baby.” 

Miguel gets up and heads to his door, he turns to look at your tired body glowing with sweat. 

“I'm going to get you some water, when I get back you better prepare yourself, I'm not done punishing you.” 

You close your thighs together, his words sending a shiver of anticipation back through you as you bite your lip watching him leave.

 You will have to thank Hobie later for picking this dare. 

Miguel laughs, “So you came here to steal my underwear for a dare?” You look over at him with a smirk admiring his nude body in such a relaxed state and giving that smile you have been so desperately dreaming for. 

Eventually, you told him all about the dare game and how you ended up here. You're searching all over the floor for your underwear in the mess of bedding that found its way to the floor in a messy heap. 

 “Look I am not going to back down from a dare, now where are…”.

Miguel whistles and you look up at him as he's holding up your underwear; you reach to grab them from him but he pulls them back causing you to crash down on his bare chest. His other hand instantly curled around you to hold you to him. Once red eyes now dulling down to a brown as he just holds and smiles at you.

 “Take mine, do what you need to do and I will keep these” He balls up your underwear and holds them in a fist behind his head. 

You give him a suspicious look “Why do you want to hang on to them?” 

Miguel chuckles and looks back at you “To make sure you'll come back”

Later you find Hobie, Quin, and Ben sitting down chatting, you march up to the table and throw the navy blue underwear down on the table. They all look at you stunned at the item of clothing in front of them. Your hair was disheveled, lips red and swollen from being kissed, and cheeks still painted with a bit of blush. Hobie raises an eyebrow and looks you up and down noting your appearance, then he smirks. 

“And what took you so long?”

[tragedybunny]

Fun Astarion idea:

Tav finds a wish spell (does the Deck of Many Things behind Astarion's back and gets insanely lucky), and offers to use it to cure his Vampirism.

He would probably be annoyed at them for risking that, at least.

This one ended up short and sweet anon, but I didn't want to belabor it because I think it would be gilding the lily.

As requested, Tav draws from the Deck Many Things, Astarion is less than thrilled.

Gambles and Wishes - F!Reader x Astarion

“Astarion,” you pound on the door to your home’s library until you thought it would break. 

“I’m still not talking to you,” he shouts back, not even getting close to the door. 

It was locked from the inside and you consider an unlocking spell for a moment but stop. The lock was a boundary, and you hated to cross his boundaries, he didn’t get to have any for so long. Instead you opt to groan in frustration. “Please, this isn’t the healthiest way to solve our problems.”

“Neither is lying, but that didn’t stop you,” he shoots back and you cringe because he’s technically right. 

“It wasn’t lying so much as not telling. And see, you’re talking to me so why don’t we stop shouting through the door.” To be honest, it was starting to make you nervous, he’d never been angry at you for this long before. Maybe your good intentions had taken things too far. “Please Love, Starry Sky,” your voice shakes. 

The noise of the lock opening causes your heart to leap, but you're not sure if it’s dread or elation, so you just stand there, arms crossed around yourself until the door opens. Astarion stares at you with watery red eyes, “is that really how you want this relationship to work?”

“No, you’re right, but the possible reward was too great to deny.” Why can’t he understand, you’d do anything for him?

“So was the risk, you pulled a card from the Deck of Many things. You know magic, you know what could’ve happened.” He’s not shouting anymore, it’s so much worse. He’s barely whispering the words, and the tears are finally starting to spill over. “And you didn’t even consult me, we’re supposed to be equals in this.” 

So much for those boundaries you didn’t want to cross, the realization started to eat you up inside. Protecting him wasn’t a good excuse anymore. “I’m so sorry. It’s just that I would risk anything for you and I knew you wouldn’t let me.” 

Even amidst all the pain, the two of you find yourselves holding onto each other. “Sunlight, that’s because you always take risks for me. You need to worry more about yourself sometimes.” He sniffles into your shoulder, and you hope his tears are drying as you stroke his hair. 

“I know, last one I promise. But I got what I wanted, one Wish spell, we can have the life we thought was impossible.” The life you wanted so badly to give him, the life he deserved. 

Stepping back from you, he appraises you seriously. “Are you sure this is what you would use it on? You could have an Empire, become a Goddess. Not that you aren’t already, especially when it comes too- ” he smiles lasciviously. 

“Astarion,” playfully you smack his shoulder, “behave yourself. And yes this is the only thing I could think of using it on. I couldn’t wish for anything more than you.”  

“You’re still a silly girl who’s too nice to me.” New tears appear in his eyes you notice, but for an entirely different reason. “Well then I accept, on one condition of course.”

“And what is that?” 

“You promise you’re stuck with me as long as we both live. I’m not used to being alive of course, I’m going to need someone to keep an eye on me for a long time. And let’s be honest, you’re the most qualified. I don’t think any of our friends would really be able to handle it.” 

He’s rambling but you know it’s because he’s nervous, so you lean over and kiss him softly. “Deal. Now let’s make you an un-undead Love.” 

[my-my-my]

Aizen thinking of reader in muken and thinkong to himself that maybe if the circumstances had been different he would've married her, and like he holds respect for reader because she had a tough past which also includes sa(trauma dumping here) and her gentle yet cold and reserved personality, a diligent soul reaper who at the end of the day was a human,who would make cooing noises while aggressively scratching a cats head something like that, whatever youre comfortable with, if you don't want to then you don't have to, im sorry if i made you uncomfortable with it!!

Thank you for sending, sharing and trusting this request with me! It’s been a while since I’ve attempted to crawl into Aizen’s head, so I hope this is to your liking. I won’t be able to convey every aspect you included into this request, but I hope it has the sentiment you wanted.

Summary: The mind wanders when it has nothing else to do, and being in Muken has left Aizen with plenty of time to reminisce, much to his dismay. With the onslaught of the Quincy Invasion decimating the Gotei 13, Aizen is called to the battlefield, coming to terms that somethings will inevitably, remain the same.

CW: Vague mentions of SA, pining, angst.

Word count: 1233

Muken, in its entirety, was a cold and desolate place. It was void of light; its depths hiding darker secrets that only the higher ups, and those imprisoned, knew of. Yet within the darkest of Muken’s depths, Aizen’s mind was still free – free to explore his inner world, free to explore and train himself, but also free to explore his memories.

Although he often tried to minimize his time with memories. To learn from history was one thing, but for Aizen, some memories were tinted with regret – of things long past, of people long gone. It opened a door of “what if’s” that Aizen, much to his dismay, did not have the pleasure of humouring anymore.

“What if…”

“What if…”

“What if…”

Those things would never change the current situation, his present and longstanding imprisonment. But in some instances, his mind would wander to memories of you. Of times where his plans, experiments and machinations were off in the distant future, and you were his present.

Yet Aizen’s time in Muken grew longer at each passing moment. The solitude haunts him but remains familiar – a taste he knows all too well since he was a child, and yet he knows that you would have endured this.

Thoughts of you, who remained unwavering in times of anger, sadness and despair. You who had endured so much by the time he met you. The outer districts of Rukongai were desolate at best, and inhospitable at worst – and somehow you clawed your way through it all. Away from people who were determined to crush and confine you in the squalor of outer Rukongai. Away from men who craved power over your mind, soul and body.

When he met you as a fellow student at the Academy, he didn’t expect much from you.

But your diligence and resilience made him watch you from a distance. Watching you grow stronger and confident each day as you improved your skills as a shinigami. Soul Society was anything but kind to you, but you faced each day with a quiet determination. A resolve to be better than what you were dealt with.

It was only a matter of time the Gotei 13 recognized your efforts, as you were recruited into Squad 5, under Aizen’s lieutenancy. It was strange, Aizen thought as he reflected on those moments. Like many in the Gotei 13, you weren’t immune to his charms or his looks. He would catch you with the faintest of blushes, the slight aversion of your eyes from his gaze, yet you tried to hold equal footing with him. He would catch you practicing spells, your swordsmanship and even your calligraphy.

At first, he thought it was to impress him, but through the small, growing interactions you two shared, you wanted to know more. You craved to be better, you craved to know more, and you craved to do right by others.

Which was why Aizen pushed you away. You were too kind for Soul Society and for the world he envisioned.

…Yet he couldn’t part with you.

Which was also why he had you transferred and demoted to another division, far away from him. The pain and hurt in your eyes and voice were seared into his mind when he handed your transfer and demotion notice. Yet you didn’t get angry – a question Aizen still wondered to this day.

Why didn’t you fight him? Why didn’t you stand up for yourself?

After Aizen experimented on Shinji and the others and expelled Urahara, he thought about you often. He even drafted a promotion letter for you.. yet seeing you smile to your fellow squad members, seeing you work your way through the ranks of your new squad…

Maybe it was better this way.

What could he have done otherwise? He considered the possibility of marriage, of trying to woo you back into his arms… but Soul Society was too broken for that dream to work. To put you in harms way directly, to have you branded as a traitor for him, after all you had worked for…

Sending you away from him and his plans were the best for you, no matter how much pain it caused the both of you.

Hypotheticals and memories are nice, but that’s all they are.

It was laughable really, for Kyoraku, of all people, to be Captain Commander, to be seeking Aizen, of all people to help with the Quincy Invasion. But laughter seemed foreign to Aizen these days. The look of disdain amongst Kyoraku and the soldiers accompanying him out through Muken made Aizen scoff.

It exhausted him to play the part of saviour for people who didn’t deserve saving. The fact that the Captains didn’t even consider crushing Yhwach’s black creatures with their spiritual pressure? The brilliant minds of the Gotei 13… Aizen thought sarcastically as another creature screamed from his pressure.

The shinigami would look at him in contempt as Aizen sat there begrudgingly. Yet through his ability to compress and decompress his reiatsu, he sensed yours. He couldn’t help but give a wry smile at what he was sensing… you were trying something similar. He turned his head slightly and saw you through the corner of his uncovered eye.

Your reaitsu wasn’t as strong as his, but he was impressed with how you could hold your own, until he felt a flicker of an oncoming onslaught.

Without hesitation, Aizen chanted Hado 90, slow enough for Kyoraku to alert the others, including you to hide. Your eyes widened as you saw Aizen calmly stare back at you. Recognition in his eye when he saw that you were a safe distance away.

Not that you needed to be saved.

And yet, much to Aizen’s dismay, the insolent chair designed by Kurotsuchi remained in place. He narrowed his eye as the captain gloated his invention. You remained quiet as you watched the scene unfold.

Until a loud blast hit Aizen. The remaining Quincy survivors arrived, but before you could even draw your blade, they turned on each other.

You watched Kyoraku with an amused smile talk with Aizen, who looked less than amused at what just happened. Kyoraku tipped his hat and left Aizen alone.

The captains and lieutenants were going to head to the royal palace while you and all the others remained in Soul Society to protect it from whatever may come next. And throughout Kyoraku’s rousing speech, you could only focus on Aizen’s reaitsu as it crept closer to you.

And like a moth to a flame, you walked closer to him. You weren’t sure of what to say, of what to do as you stood in front of him. Centuries had passed, but the fluttering of your heart remained the same.

“I –” but before you could say more, a group of your squad members pushed you away, yelling about the immediate need in a Rukongai district. You looked at Aizen sadly, as he grew smaller and smaller from your field of vision.

Soul Society, in its entirety, was a cold and desolate place for Aizen. He had no love for it, and it had no love for him. The fleeting and feeble lives of the soldiers of the Gotei 13 and Wandenreich stained Soul Society… how many more lives will it take? How many captains will die?

Yet still, as Aizen glanced to the black sky, one thing remained certain, his feelings for you.

This poem used in a waka competition back in the early 1000s, was the inspiration for this:

Aren’t you who you once were? Aren’t I who I was then? How strange that All we trusted in Has changed.

Thank you for sending me this request and trusting me with it. I hope you enjoy it!

[internally-screeching]

I'm writing an essay about Heathers the movie for school and why is no one talking about how gay they were in the movie??

Like I mean genuinely looking at it and going huh. I mean yes I want the two to kiss but like they way that everyone compared Heaters and Mean Girls no one goes wow Heather Chandler/Regina are so incredibly gay?!

Like in the movie Chandler is so genuinely possessive of Veronica. Whenever Veronica talks to J.D in the movie there Chandler dragging her away. She sees only Veronica as her equal in the movie too. She likes the other Heathers, and I'm sure is aware it's better to have those who could destroy hour socia, standong close but whenot comes to it Chandler genuinely thinks of Veronica as her only equal. In the lunch time poll she literally makes Heather Duke into a table for her only intellect equal in the group, Veronica.

When she meets J.D at the convenience store Chandler acts like a jealous girlfriend glaring at J.D and Veronica as the two flirt. She could just be annoyed that they're going to be late but she seems uncaring of others so it stands to reason she's jealous and possessive. This time she doesn't physically pull Veronica away from J.D but it has the same effect.

She and J.D are even foil characters two sides of the same coin in the role that they play in Veronica's life. Chandler tries to corrupt her with power and the ability to do whatever she wants. So long as Veronica and her standing side by side so long as they enforce the societal power. While J.D tries to corrupt her with power and the ability to destroy whatever she wants. So long as Veronica and him stand side by side and destroy the system. I mean honestly while Chandler is alive in the film she and J.D compete for the converted spot of the devil sitting on Veronica's shoulder and the object of Veronica's affection.

She doesn't seem to like any of the men, only acknowledging that she needs them to find her desirable to maintain her power at Westerburg High. She's only a junior and worshipped yes but she doesn't seem interested in pursuing a man like Regina or even the other Heathers. She's intent ln Veronica staying beside her side as her only equal.

Even when she dies she's uncaring of why Veronica is in her room (never mind the fact that Veronica knows her schedule and her so well she can tell you what she was meant to be doing and what she's doing instead) but Chandler is unbothered by Veronica, her hackles are raised again by J.D and J.D only. Obviously having a friend over isn't too weird but Chandler doesn't seem all that interested in hosting little get togethers at her house. When she drinks the cup she looks over St Veronica before she dies.

I mean even when forging her suicide note Veronica can tell J.D what words Chandler failed on her fucking spelling test?! I mean I'm still in high school (albeit my last year) but I assure you I've never known the exact words my friend has gotten wrong in a spelling test. Or even what questions someone got wrong in any test. And remembered that. Veronica and Chandler obviously spend a lot of time together. More so than just friends likely would.

I mean this is even exemplified when you think about Kirt's throw away line about a Veronica and Heather Chandler sandwich. For a man who then goes on to date rape Heather McNamara his immediate thought is that duo. Not the women he's attracted to for the next however long. Clearly Veronica and Chandler have to be pretty attached at the hip for this to be Kurt's immediate pairing (and yes I know he's just being a satirically gross hyper-masculine jock in this scene but you know).

And this should go without mentioning she is literally summoned to the cafeteria by Chandler. Yes this is just an example of the red Heather's power being able to call her underlings whenever she wants but she in the movie almost always outside of this is lushing away the other Heathers or other characters, outside of this summoning she is always trying to get others further away from her. Never closer.

To conclude, Heather Chandler is a repressed lesbian who has a crush on Veronica and instead of dealing with it like a normal teenager flirting she makes Veronica join her clique where she offers an intellectual equal and power and Veronica betrays her by choosing J.D over her and also killing her but less so.

[parasolladyansy]

hello! i've liked ansy's adventure for a while, and i noticed how you play on japanese names for the pokemon, especially for mizumi's and sasmu's. what do you think of the languages in the pokemon world? i can guess hisuian equals japanese, but does sinnohan/kantonese also translate into japanese? or the four japanese-based regions are adapted into english ( or unovan?) i don't know if i'm explaining myself, but how do you view the pkmn languages and their equivalents in our world?

こんばんは! Good evening! Thank you for following along ^o^/

Class is in session lol! Professor Laventon seems to be most comfortable writing in his native Galarian, though he also has various notes in traditional “Japanese”, written vertically & read right to left.

So, language is a very interesting thing in fiction, & the Pokeverse is no exception! Through the games (& especially the latest ones, Scarlet / Violet) we’ve had a number of characters who spoke in different languages. I remember a couple of NPC’s in BW Unova, there’s Fantina in Sinnoh who peppers her speech with Kalosian (French), & a Hiker on Galar’s Route 6 who spoke what I’m guessing was Paldean (Spanish) rather than Galarian (English). Then in SV, we have Mr. Salvatore who teaches (& uses) many languages (off the top of my head, I remember him teaching how to say “thank you” in Spanish, French, Chinese, & German).

It does get tricky when it comes to the “Japanese” regions of Kanto, Johto, Hoenn, Sinnoh / Hisui, & Kitakami, as those regions otherwise make up one country in our world, but this has yet to have been canonically established (which is why I always put “Japan” / “Japanese” in quotes, as there currently isn’t a name for that one country, same with “America”). I do believe they share the same language - at the very least Hisui & Kitakami have the same written script, & I feel pretty confident that if they were to retcon it, they would have the other “Japanese” regions use it, too (before Legends Arceus, they just used random shapes that didn’t seem to spell anything, which I interpreted to just be placeholder characters).

If there is a common language in their world (& I think is, from characters from different regions being able to talk to each other no problem), I personally would guess it to be “Japanese” - as we look at the other regions, we can see a sort of Japanese flavor that would otherwise not be there (though they clearly did their homework on the various parts of the world these regions reflect!). Of course, Pokémon is from Japan, so it would make sense that they would add some of their own culture to this world they created. For a possible in-universe explanation, the Pokeverse seemed to have started in Japan (specifically in Sinnoh as we learned in Legends Arceus, so I guess their universe actually is geocentric like old astronomers used to think ours was?).

I think that’s about it. In DxP REWRITE, while my own language is American-English (& beginner-level Japanese lol) so I read the characters to be speaking American-English, they are actually speaking “Japanese” while in Sinnoh (which is why I haven’t really been peppering Ansy’s dialogue with Japanese). I have tried to write in the “Japanese” or Galarian scripts for signs & things a couple times:

The sign just says “Gear Station”

Here I (tried to lol) translate Mizumi’s letter to Japanese then wrote it out in in-game characters (in the modern horizontal, as Mizumi is from the modern era writing to someone in the modern era).

Thanks for reading yet another post of me geeking out lol. Feel free to let me know your thoughts in the comments! じゃあ、またね! Until next time! ^o^/

—

PS: For funsies, here’s the (non-canonical, as these were made by fans) references I’ve been using when writing in either Galarian or “Japanese” in DxP REWRITE:

I personally was confused by the “Japanese” script also being alphabetical rather than phonetic like hiragana / katakana (two common scripts in Japan, the first being mostly used to spell Japanese words while katakana is used to spell foreign words - the third script, kanji, is used to write whole words). If that is the case (which is how I wrote it in Mizumi’s letter), “Japanese” is written in what’s called “romanji”, where they write out words in the Latin (aka Roman) alphabet rather than phonetically: “ありがとうございます” becomes “arigatō-gozaimasu” (“thank you very much”).

Whether it is actually written out that way in game though…? At a glance of the signs I saw in Hisui & Kitakami, it does look like it’s more like hiragana & kanji instead, but this chart is all I got for now. Any Japanese folks or fluent Japanese-readers who can tell me if there’s anything out there in the Japanese fandom about this, please lemme know so I can do right by it into future - as of writing this, I haven’t seen much else among the English-speaking fandom 8u8;

As for the Galarian script, it’s clearly based on the Latin alphabet that much of the Western world uses for our various languages - we see it in Paldea as well as Galar, & according to the trailer in Pokemon ZA, they retconned it to be used in Kalos as well. In universe, I wonder if they were at all influenced by the Unown, being based on the Latin alphabet themselves. Again, who knows? (though I question the accuracy of this particular font / chart: if it is, the first thing Laventon’s chalkboard says “REXBOQ” lol XD)