#I think there’s something so appealing about responding to comments

[weaselishmcdiesel]

I’m seriously like. I might need to make a fan adventure for my own wellbeing. I know I say this every couple weeks but omg I need to make a shitty little comment-driven fan adventure as soon as possible

[evanhereonearth]

The Insidious Cycle of the Abuser Who Says They Love You: Mythal and Solas

Likely goes without saying, but Veilguard spoilers all under the jump.

I have been absolutely wrecked by the end scenes in Veilguard for weeks now, and I want to do a deep dive into Solas's relationship with Mythal and how it absolutely reeks of abuse. Long post incoming!

CW for heavy discussion of cycles of abuse, trauma response, and abuse tactics.

When I finished my first playthrough, this moment hit me like an absolute freight train. His visceral response to her presence and the way he instinctively retreats and flinches back/puts out a hand to protect himself is a full-blown trauma response.

And then she starts talking and moving towards him, and it gets worse.

Solas curls in on himself; his body goes even further into self-protection mode. His face is downcast, not the way he bowed to his vhenan moments before with a straight back and open posture, but shrinking.

And then as she advances, he cowers.

He completely folds inward. He crumples; he shakes, he hyperventilates, and the moment she reaches for him, he fumblingly offers her the lyrium dagger to kill him with.

Is this shame? Yes, of course, but it's far, far more than that.

For the sake of brevity, I'm going to limit this list to the four most widely recognised trauma responses:

Fight

Flight

Freeze

Fawn

As someone whose primary trauma response is fawn (wooo CPTSD), which is intensely common among people who experience complex trauma, especially through emotional and prolonged physical/mental abuse where their needs are discarded, pushed aside, or otherwise steamrolled, I felt this right alongside Solas. My own body responded to seeing it. This is, quite frankly, one of the most visceral and realistic (and extreme) fawn responses I've seen depicted in media.

Mythal in this scene is...phew, something else.

"She was the best of them," Solas tells us in Trespasser.

But she was not good, everything tells us in Veilguard.

Let's look at his regrets in chronological order.

Through Solas's memories of regret, we see this germinate in his foundational regret: leaving the Fade to take a physical form.

He does not want to do this. He tells her he does not want to do this. From the conversation, it's clear it's not the first time she's asked.

And the way she asks? Outright coercion.

"You have so long observed the world. Why not consider joining it?" [I want you to do this thing, so I will frame it as logical for you to make the choice I want you to make.]

"But I have no desire to live as humans. Besides, this talk of taking on a solid form. I think you underestimate the danger." [I don't want to do that. It does not feel safe to me.] "When you took the glowing stone to build your body, did the earth not shake?" [This is dangerous and selfish.]

"The lyrium gives us the strength we had when we were of the Fade; we are the best of both physical and Fade." [It makes us powerful, so I don't care about the risks.] "I need your wisdom, Solas, to withstand the louder voices like Elgar'nan's who would go too far." [If you do not come with me, a tyrant you abhor will make others suffer.] "I need you."

"This is madness. You must know that." [I don't want to do this at all. This will hurt me. I don't want this.] "I will always follow where you go." [Because I love you and trust you.]

Mythal's words in this part are classic abusive framing. When appealing to his natural curiosity does not work and he expresses strong rejection of her logical thought process (just because I have observed this place does not mean I want to go there, echoing his comments to the Inquisitor in DAI: "Many Orlesian peasants dream of travelling to exotic Rivain. But not everyone wants to go to Rivain!") and expresses that there is significant danger to continue to build bodies out of lyrium, she changes tactics.

Her second tactic is that it gives them power--she implies that he is limited and not enough for being only of the Fade. If he follows her, he will be the best of both, like she is. She clearly already sees herself as above him.

Her third tactic is pure emotional blackmail: "I need you. I will give in to the tyrants without your wisdom, and having your counsel in the Fade is not enough. If you don't go against your own nature and desires, people will suffer...and it will be your fault for not being by my side."

She doesn't say those things outright, but they are implied by everything she is saying. He says again he doesn't want it--that it is madness and that she must be aware of that despite her ignoring any suggestion that she actually is. All she is seeing is power and her desires: for Solas to do what she wants him to do.

So he agrees. Because she is his friend, and she says she needs him.

As far as core wounds go, this one is a doozy. It's absolutely brutal, because it's irrevocable. It's a point of no return. It's the first in what will become millennia of regret, of her ignoring the Wisdom she coerced out of the Fade to do what she wants regardless, to continue to push him to twist his nature under the guise of the greater good, to continue to cede to Elgar'nan and enable the very tyrants she promised him to balance.

This regret was deeply painful for me to watch. The nuance here is easily lost if people don't understand abuse tactics and how this sort of manipulation is used. It also serves to bind Solas to Mythal, an enormous sunk cost fallacy in the making--once he has made this choice, there is no going back.

And you see Solas curled in on himself in anguish and regret from the trauma of taking a physical form. It is in deep, painful contrast to his open, free wingspan as a spirit of Wisdom; he will never be the same.

"Have you created what we need?" From the outset Mythal is framing this as his idea as much as hers, when from everything he says, that is not true.

"With this, the proper ritual will sunder every Titan from its spirit. But you must know, those severed dreams will certainly be driven mad, a disembodied blight of pain and anger. It--is--awful what we are doing."

"And the only way to end this war."

Again, Solas offers the wisdom she claimed she took him from the Fade to listen to. He warns her, again, of the danger. He does not want to do this. Just like he warned her of the earth quaking when they made their bodies--they, the Evanuris, started this war by taking what they wanted regardless of who it hurt. He never wanted to participate in it, but now he is in the middle of that war. Mythal was one of the initial perpetrators of this war; she brought Solas into it against his will because he loved her, and now he's stuck. He is past his point of no return. And she is still using his heart against him. She has isolated him from everyone he knew in the Fade; he has no one to support him. He. Only. Has. Her.

This is another classic abuse tactic; if the person being abused has no one else, they will continue to enable that abuse even if it harms others, because they cannot see a way out. If you don't do what I say, it will destroy our children, our family. If you don't do what I say, this war will consume all you have, and you no longer have a home to return to. If you don't do what I say and hurt yourself and the Other, more will suffer, and it will be your fault.

Again, his posture, curled up and broken, appearing to cradle a now-tranquil Titan beneath him--and be embraced in return. This is an interesting artistic choice here, one that aches. It speaks to the depth of his own wound and how much it rent his own spirit to follow through with Mythal's wants here; that it sundered him from his spirit as much as it did the Titans.

"You cannot do this, Elgar'nan! You swore we would give up our commands when this war was over!"

"Our people need our leadership. If you are unwilling, leave."

From Elgar'nan, this is expected. From Mythal?

"Our people must rebuild. And we must help unite them."

Solas, once again, betrayed. He put his trust in Mythal and in the other Evanuris to follow through with their promise. Everything he has done thus far is poisoned in this moment; had the Evanuris indeed stepped back rather than stepped on necks, perhaps Solas could have healed, found a way to live with what he had done, maybe even to make amends. But this starts his war anew--and Mythal is standing with his enemy despite her promises, despite every wheedling word she's used to get what she wants from him over the centuries and longer, despite him turning from everything, everything, he loved to love her. This is the moment where he understands that he has only been a tool to her all along.

"So we did not fight for freedom, but to conquer this land and our own."

Let's pick apart Solas's words.

So we did not fight for freedom: He truly believed that he was fighting for freedom, that no matter how bad it got, that he could bear it for freedom.

But to conquer this land: Literally the land, I think, because of the Titans. To subdue them at all costs. This was not what he came for, but he believed Mythal.

And our own: Our own, our people, more spirits we gave bodies for this war, more who may not have wanted to leave the Fade. Our own, our people. To Solas, he is one of them. In this moment, he realises how much Mythal holds herself above all of them.

Elgar'nan's words are all too telling: "We fought to win. And now the Evanuris are as gods. I do not answer to Mythal's annoying lapdog."

They all--all--see him thus. As her pet.

Because he is. She has, until now, controlled him utterly with her manipulation and "need" for him.

"The people are afraid. They must believe in something." Mythal does not even stand up for Solas here; she does not reject Elgar'nan's perception of him. All she does is further distance herself.

The people are afraid: The Evanuris made them. They are as controlled as Solas and more.

Elgar'nan asserts, "They need strength."

"And wisdom." Mythal has the absolute gall to attribute this to herself, when Solas is the source of the wisdom she "needed" for so long. (Belated addition: And another level here: she may also be saying again that she needs him, but doing so in a way that doesn't require her to stand up for him directly. Honestly, fucking gross.)

"They need gods who can protect them," Elgar'nan continues.

"We are not gods. You will learn that." Solas's voice here is pure defeat. The scales are falling from his eyes.

"Every lapdog holds a wolf inside," says Elgar'nan.

Solas knows that Elgar'nan's "protection" is hollow, based on subjugation. And I think in this moment, he learns that Mythal's is based only in her belief that she is better than those beneath her, who cannot possibly handle themselves.

So her lapdog becomes the Wolf.

"I was not certain you would come."

Solas's opening words in this regret show the distance between them already and how much he has realised he does not know this woman who called herself his friend.

And her response is to instantly blame him.

"You are the one who walked away. I never turn my back when my friend needs me."

In putting this post together, this line absolutely sucker punched me. I've watched these several times already, but the absolute audacity to blame him for standing up for his principles for the first time against all her manipulation? Hoo.

She blames him for doing just that, "turning his back when his friend needed him." She needed her enabler, and when he stopped, she turned bitter. Just like any abuser.

That he goes straight into "The Evanuris seek the magic of the Blight" instead of engaging, honestly shows that he's still Wisdom. That is one battle that is unwinnable, trying to stand up against an abuser's bullshit like that.

"Impossible," she says. "The Blight is safely sealed away forever."

Gaslight, girl boss, gatekeep.

"Though I wish I could believe you." [You have lied to me so many times.] "I have sensed the breaking of the wards."

And her answer is patronising. "I will investigate your claims." [I don't believe you.] "If they forget the danger of the Blight, I will endeavour to remind them."

Solas knows this is futile. "What if, instead, you left the Evanuris and remained with me? Do you not wish for freedom from this struggle?"

He asks her, again, to veer from the dangerous path. He desperately wants to believe he was not completely wrong about her, I think. If she were to leave, he could heal somewhat, for not having so thoroughly misjudged her character.

Am I enough for you? Was I ever enough? is the unspoken question here when he asks if she will remain with him.

And in return, he gets back even more patronising bullshit and hubris. "Be at peace, love. I will stop them."

(Can you tell Mythal pisses me off?)

She calls him love. What an unbearable insult after everything, to go on telling him she cares for him whilst ignoring his wisdom--the very wisdom she coerced him into leaving the Fade so she would have by her side--and consolidating her own power at the expense of his people.

"As you must," he says. "The Blight is our mistake."

Might be unpopular, but I do not think Solas bears a split fifty-fifty custody for whose fault the Blight is. Could he have said no about the dagger? Could he have pushed then? Maybe. But by this point, he'd already had probable millennia of complex trauma and a deeply abusive codependent relationship, probably also a level of magical bond. Like, sorry, Trick and BioWare, if you want to retcon everything you shared with us in Inquisition about being in service to the Evanuris ("You have given yourself into the service of an ancient elven god! You are Mythal's creature now. Everything you do, whether you know it or not, will be for her.") AND Mythal casually overriding her servants' will and Solas burning her vallaslin off his face and leaving a scar and devoting himself to freeing the elven people from the Evanuris's domination, fine, but I don't buy it. Even if there was no magical compulsion on him all this time, that is immaterial.

Complex trauma literally rewires the brain to survive. She spent lifetimes programming him, isolating him, stripping from him every bit of agency he had. This man did not have the capacity to say no.

When our no is trampled even for a few months or years, we stop trying to use it. We comply. We, as mortal humans, cannot begin to comprehend the compounded trauma of millennia of this happening with the stakes of worlds in the balance. Solas, quite simply, has lost the entire ability to consent. No one of us can even imagine.

Yet he managed to walk away from her somehow, when she chose Elgar'nan. This man is stronger than anyone gives him credit for.

The dagger was clearly Mythal's idea. The plan to sever the Titans from their dreams, clearly her idea. To end the war. For there to be "peace". For there to be "freedom". Except that never came.

His loyalty was to her and to their people; hers was only ever to herself.

And again, she walks away and lets Solas suffer.

What a good friend.

[screaming from the general direction of Scotland]

She put her trust in monsters instead of her oldest friend, and the monsters ate her face.

Anyone surprised? I'm surprised. (I'm not surprised.)

And on top of this, Mythal finally, finally giving Solas one tiny breadcrumb that she had any principles remaining? I think that cemented his bindings to her forever. Not just that the Evanuris killed her, but why they killed her: because after millennia, she listened to him.

For someone that deep into trauma and abuse? Well. We know what happened.

It cannot be overstated that with his imprisonment of the Evanuris and the Blight, Solas saved the entire world. The entire world. Every living being in Thedas had a chance at life because of him. Only because of him.

Morrigan says it early on in the game, that for all the consequences of the veil (which, it also must be said, was not supposed to be global!), "his imprisonment of the Evanuris was just. Had he not done so, all of Thedas would have fallen to the Blight."

And the world has hated him for it.

He woke after sleeping for millennia, exhausted by this immense act of magic, to discover that not only had it gone horribly wrong, but that it had cost his people everything. That Tevinter had come in and enslaved them, released a trickle of the Blight after breaking into the Black City, used so much blood magic that the veil itself all over Thedas has been in tatters--not least because in releasing the Blight, the survivors had had to face down and kill the dragon thralls (archdemons) of the Evanuris, rendering five out of seven of them mortal, and with their deaths over the intervening centuries, the veil had grown threadbare with only two Evanuris sustaining it.

The risks were catastrophic, the price unbearable.

Everything he'd ever done to protect the world could still come crashing down...and in a sick twist of fate, he would be alive to see it.

And, shockingly, so would Mythal.

Mythal, whose fragment has just been chilling in a swamp for centuries in human form. Mythal, whose abuse of him lasted through the entirety of the world's history. Mythal, who, due to the Evanuris's betrayal and her abusee's abandonment, has become little more than retribution.

Mythal, who could have set him free at any point in all this time and didn't, because he was hers.

Mythal, who is the only remaining person with the power to do what he feels must be done.

I find it interesting that they chose not to use the post-Inquisition dialogue at all. Interesting also that they used Mythal's voice actor and not Flemeth's. This feels like a retcon, but we'll go with it. Whatevs.

"I knew that you would find me soon enough. You need the power of a god, the strength that I alone still carry."

She's still asserting her own godhood.

He's not having it. "The blighted Evanuris will soon break free from their prison. I must make a stronger one that can contain them."

He's not wrong. Not even a little bit wrong. And he's also right that she won't help him. Why would she? She never has.

"While the prison is important, it is not the only goal you seek."

"Why should I not tear down the veil? And bring back immortality to all the elven people? They deserve it."

And this is where I get even more raging, because Mythal's answer is this: "The elven people of today do not deserve to see the world they love torn apart to salve your conscience."

I'm sorry, what?

The world they love? The world that has offered them nowt but literal genocide for thousands of years? The world where in Tevinter, they're chattel slaves and worse, fuel for blood magic without a thought? The world where in the "civilised", slaveless nations to the south, they're either confined to alienages and subjected to repeated genocide (that's what a "purge" is, if anyone isn't clear on that) or the remnants of the Dales, who are the descendents of another enormous genocide? The world where elven magic has been pillaged but elven mages in human settlements are confined to Circles and abused or made tranquil or also genocided by Templars invoking the Rite of Annulment? The world where they're called "elf savage" and "rabbit" and "knife ear" and cannot participate in Thedosian religious life because the Chantry erases every instance of elves from even the Chant of Light? The world where it took the Inquisitor installing a perpetrator of genocide on the Orlesian throne (both Celene AND Gaspard fit this bill) and either having Celene reconcile with Briala (Briala and Celene's relationship could be a whole other post. Boak.) and blackmailing them to give a single elf lands and a title? That world????

What the fuck, Mythal, die faster.

I got real mad there for a second. I'm fine. I'm fine!

Solas, once more, simply says, "I must fix what I have broken. I am sorry."

More than she deserves, frankly. Man's a mess, but at least he tries. She's been chilling in a swamp and pulling puppet strings for ages and abusing her kids. Nudging history like it's some sort of hobby, because it has always just been pieces on a board to her. They have never been people in her eyes like they are in his.

"As am I, old friend."

Aye, get tae fuck. Friends don't treat friends the way you treated Solas. The closest thing to an apology Solas will ever get from her is that she pretty much just lies down and dies when he comes to kill her. And she still won't set him free before he does. Has to continue to twist her own knife.

This scene has me riled.

And this takes us back to the beginning of this post.

To her essence showing up to release him from her service.

In what is, to me, the least accountable, bare minimum non-apology (she never actually says she's sorry) I've had the displeasure to witness in a videogame, with Solas literally cowering before her and offering her a knife to kill him with since this is the first time he's seen her actual, non-Flemythal face since she died.

This was never a friendship of equals. Ever.

She got one thing right. She did break him. But she knew it all this time, and she never took a single step to put it right until pushed. Her corner of the Crossroads, which he built for her in the desperate hope that she would show a glimmer of the friend he believed she was, notably has a pair of wolf statues. Both beheaded.

She's spent all this time punishing him further.

He never went to visit her? I wouldn't either. I could not blame him.

This has gone to an angry place. So let's conclude with what is, I think, the entire point.

Grace.

"I lied. I betrayed you."

"I forgive you."

Has anyone--anyone--in all his long life, ever said those words to him?

I'll say that again: has anyone--ANYONE--in all his millennia of existence, EVER said those words to him?

I forgive you.

Mythal certainly didn't.

The world certainly didn't.

He has shouldered all the blame of an entire pantheon, a war that broke the world, a blight, everything, always, and while people have come alongside him to help him, I am not sure anyone (certainly not anyone he cares about) has given him the grace of forgiveness.

The beauty of this final scene for me wasn't just Ilaana, wasn't just Ilaana reuniting with the man she has loved for a decade who has spent all that time pushing her away so he couldn't--in his mind--inevitably poison the love of the only person who has seen his spirit and cherished it without twisting him.

It was the slow realisation that Rook trusted his love enough to try.

It was Morrigan, who carries all Mythal's memories and her own of Flemythal's abuse and machinations, who responds to Rook's question about her views of Solas with: "Or do you mean to discover if I would stand directly against the Dread Wolf, were there a need? I shall aid you in any way but that. What has passed between Solas and Mythal...I beg you: do not ask this of me again."

Morrigan knows. She will not raise a hand against him. She will not try to stop him. She will let the veil fall. She will not fight with Rook. Because she knows this being whose memories she holds has harmed him enough.

Solas, in these final moments, even before Mythal shows up to gut punch him, realises all these people have somehow, somehow, banded together to help him.

Not work for him.

Not be his agents.

Not worship him.

Not follow him blindly.

To help him. To help Solas. To help him, after all this time, take the first steps towards himself. Towards his own essence, so long twisted into something he never sought or wanted.

The Inquisitor and Morrigan certainly understand what it's like to be seen only as the symbol others raise in your image. Rook will learn that someday, but is still naive.

But even with that naivete, willing. Present. Able to put aside being a chess piece on his board. Able to see that they would never have succeeded without his help. Able to trust two people who know him better than they ever will.

Able to offer him grace.

And when they produce Mythal's essence, how that must brutalise him; to think that perhaps all this has been to let his abuser kill him back. He clearly thinks that's what's happening. He breaks. He fawns. He offers her the blade that has caused so much pain.

Her release of him is the bare minimum she owes him. I've already railed about that.

What is transcendent here, transformative--it is the mortals.

The mortals offering grace to a god who never wanted to be a god.

It's them together showing him a way out of an endless cycle of trauma and abuse. No one of them alone is enough. Without Rook, they wouldn't have Mythal's essence; Morrigan can't go get it, and she can't do what is needed because she's not actually Mythal, only has her memories. Without Morrigan, who can stand there with those memories but from the compassionate perspective of someone who has watched them in horror from the outside. She's far from objective, but she can do this one thing to help.

Without the Inquisitor (romanced or not, still someone he let know him as he most desperately wanted to be known--the Fade-walker, the Dreamer, the humble mage who desperately needed a friend). The Inquisitor, who kneels before him to comfort him. Who sees his hurt and responds.

If romanced, without Lavellan, who kneels to repeat back words he once shouted at the Nightmare in the Fade after Adamant.

"Dirth ma, harellan. Ma banal enasalin. Mar solas ema mar din." (Speak, traitor. Your victory was fruitless. Your pride gives way only to your death.)

To which Solas replied, "Banal nadas."

On the surface, nothing is inevitable, but can also be taken to mean that nothingness is inevitable, entropy, the final void. (Thanks to Dumped, Drunk, and Dalish for this excellent long post on this scene.)

And here is Lavellan, kneeling beside him with those words. "Banal nadas ar lath, ma vhenan."

Nothing is inevitable but the love we share, my heart.

I see everything you are, all you have done, and I love you. I forgive you for the pain you have caused me. I understand, see, and forgive.

No one has ever shown him grace like this.

Ever.

And Solas, this shattered man, sobs.

He sobs.

Someone has taken the trouble to isolate his voice in the video. This man has nothing left. And, after millennia of this trauma cycle repeating over and over, he is finally free to make the choice he wants to make. It's not the outcome he wants; that has to be said. He doesn't want to leave the veil up. He doesn't want to be bound into prison forever with no hope of seeing the world he fought for ever return.

But he is done.

In the Fade after Adamant, there is a cemetery with the worst fears of every companion scriven on shrines and stones. Solas's is dying alone.

After all of this, he is willing to face just that--and would, if not for her.

She knows his deepest fears. She has faced the demon Mythal made of the man she loves. She has given unwitting comfort to the spirit of Wisdom still within. She has seen his sweetest self. Nurtured him, cherished him, and has been nurtured and cherished in return.

Does she want to leave the world behind and spend eternity in a Fade prison? Probably not her first choice. It's not my Ilaana's; she has been on his side all this time, dreaming of a world where the spirits she loves can be reunited with the world in peace and ready to make that happen.

But it was not supposed to happen this way. It did happen this way anyway.

He has sacrificed everything--everything--including his own spirit self, his soul, his life. How could she not offer him what no one ever has? A friend forever, a lover willing to walk the din'an shiral by his side, a companion to ward off the forever alone.

Together, the two of them can begin to heal, with their counterpart who has always seen through the burdens of the world to the soul within.

This is the only thing I've ever had any faith in. Grace I know you carry us Grace And it was such a mess Grace I don't say it enough Grace You are so loved

[doumadono]

Warnings: smut w/o plot, doggy style, creampie, blowjob, rough s*x

Summary: you and Bakugo went camping, and you couldn’t believe your new shorts were enough to turn the big guy on so quickly

MY HERO ACADEMIA MASTERLIST - PART II

As the golden hues of dusk began to settle over the campsite, the thrill of a shared adventure coursed through your body, amplified by the excitement that Katsuki, your usually so gruff boyfriend, had agreed to this escapade into the wild. 

It wasn't his idea of a perfect getaway, but the hint of adventure and the rugged trails appealed to his untamed spirit, and that was enough to tilt his decision.

Preparations for the trip unfolded over several days. You meticulously selected a new tent, sleeping bags, and all the essentials needed for survival in the embrace of nature. The excitement bubbled within you, and each item was a promise of the memories you were about to create together.

Upon arrival at the campground, a place chosen for its variety of trails, Bakugo’s eyes - those intense, crimson orbs - surveyed the land with a tactical gaze, as if plotting each step he would conquer on the morrow. 

You began setting up the tent, fumbling slightly with the steel profiles. "Kats, could you help me with these?" you asked, trying not to get distracted by his scrutinizing look.

With a gruff nod, Bakugo joined you, his hands adept and sure as he assisted with the tent. "Why don't you start on the fire?" he suggested, his tone brusque but not unkind. "Seems like something you can handle, babe."

You set about gathering dry wood, arranging stones in a careful circle to cradle the fledgling flames you would soon coax to life.

When Bakugo watched you light the fire with practiced ease, a rare smile broke across his face. "Well, well, look at you. I'm starting to think you're a pro at this," he remarked, the rough pad of his thumb brushing a smudge of dirt from your cheek as he approached you.

His compliment warmed you more than the fire, and soon you were searching through your backpack for marshmallows, a sweet treat to end the day. "Hungry?" you asked, glancing back at him.

Bakugo's eyes lingered on you, particularly drawn to the curve of your hips and ass accentuated by your new shorts. “I like your new shorts,” he commented casually, completely skipping the question you asked.

Your cheeks heated under his gaze, and you turned to face him fully. "Do you? They're just material shorts."

"Which hug your ass so nicely," he growled softly, his hand finding its way to your lower back and pulling you closer. 

You gasped, turning fully to face him, arms looping around his neck as he lifted you effortlessly. Your legs wrapped around his hips for stability. "Did my shorts turn you on that much, babe?" you teased, feeling his breath against your ear.

His only response was a husky, affirmative grunt as he carried you towards the tent. 

Soon, you lay back on the sleeping bag, Bakugo hovering above, his lips tracing a path along your neck. His hands slipped under your t-shirt, discovering with a pleased murmur that you weren’t wearing anything underneath. "Aren't you being a naughty little shit today?" His voice was rough with arousal.

"You know I like it when you put me in my place," you murmured back, rolling your hips against his, your hands deftly working to remove his clothes.

Bakugo responded with equal fervor, his movements urgent as he shed his layers. 

Overwhelmed by a primal urge, you found yourself driven by raw desire, pushing him off yourself and kneeling between his spread thighs. Your tongue darted out, tracing fervent circles around the swollen tip of his penis, the taste of the faint bitterness of your boyfriend’s arousal causing you to moan in delight.

Katsuki began to guide the rhythm, his hips gently grinding forward. The motion coaxed your lips apart, accommodating him fully as he nudged against the welcoming gate of your throat. With each advance, you adjusted, your throat opening to invite him deeper, your initial gag reflex swiftly giving way to a consuming need to take him all in. The feel of his throbbing length, coupled with your swirling tongue, sent vibrations along his shaft, and Katsuki rolled his head back.

You yanked one leg around his one leg to improve your position and started grinding your slick pussy against his knee.

“Fuck, yeah,” the man growled. The sensation was nearly unbearable. Known for his fiery temperament and fierce control, here he was, surrendering to the pleasure you elicited with your little expert ministrations. His pace quickened. The sensation of sliding in and out of your snuggly throat, the slick, rhythmic tightness you provided, pushed him to the edge.

The build-up was intense, his body tightening, a crescendo of raw energy that demanded release. With a guttural cry, he reached the brink. Bakugo’s release was rich, a surge of warmth that he felt from the base of his spine to the tip of his cock while his creamy essence spilled forth in a rush of exhilarating release, filling your mouth and dripping from its corners to your naked neckline.

With a swift motion, he yanked your head off him by your hair and pushed you flat against the sleeping bag. He knelt behind you, spanked your ass a few times, and cupped your cheeks, spreading them to watch your gaping hole, slick with your juices. “Such a whore you are,” Bakugo mused, and aligned himself with your entrance, and the world fell away as he entered you with a single powerful thrust. His presence inside you was overwhelming, a perfect fit that stretched you deliciously.

Your breath caught in your throat, the sensation overwhelming. "Katsuki..." you gasped, your fingers digging into the sleeping bag.

He set a rhythm, each thrust deeper than the last, his groans mixing with your gasps. "I love fucking my sexy girl raw," he confessed, his voice barely above a growl as his hips pistoned in yours. His rock hard cock plunged deep into you with a relentless rhythm. 

You met each of his thrusts with an eager push back, your vaginal muscles clenching around his cock in a delicious squeeze that drew a low groan from his lips. Each movement you made was synchronized with his, a dance of desire that had you both teetering on the edge of ecstasy. You played with the limits of sensation, allowing the tip of his dick to nearly escape your snuggly pussy before sliding back down, pressing your ass against his abdomen tightly. Your hips gave a gentle, teasing twerk, enhancing the friction and intensifying the pleasure that thrummed through every nerve of his.

Each powerful thrust forced a sharp gasp from your lips, his rhythm unabating, as if he were carving his desire into your very being. His movements weren't just fervent - they were meticulously measured to break down every barrier you possessed. Each retreat was only a brief prelude to another overwhelming advance, sending ripples through you. The slick, warm precum trickled out of your abused, swollen pussy whenever he pushed back.

Each thrust stole the breath from your lungs, reducing your voice to ragged gasps and involuntary whimpers, as you were rendered pliant under his commanding touch, your body moving with his like a leaf caught in a storm.

“Fuck yeah, just like that, I’m gonna cream your sweet cunt, bitch,” Bakugo's voice was a husky growl, vibrating through the dense air of the tent. His hand landed with a resounding smack against your ass, the sting blooming across your skin.

His words were crude but thrilling, spoken with the certainty of a man on the brink of conquering, his every word as impactful as his movements, promising a culmination that would leave you both shattered.

When the climax overtook you, it was with a shout of his name, your world bursting into a kaleidoscope of sensation. Even as waves of pleasure overwhelmed you, a part of your mind remained acutely aware, sensing the potent surges of Katsuki's climax deep within your abused pussy. You discovered muscles you never knew you had - working on your boyfriend’s cock, pulsing, squeezing and milking him dry.

His muscles ripped and his thrusts became sloppy. Soon, Katsuki shuddered and expelled bolts of thick, warm semen, giving you one of the best creampies you had ever had. “Take all of my seed, bitch,” the man growled, massaging the meat of your ass. “Such a good, little whore.”

After he withdrew, he once again spread your ass, observing your mixed cums leak out of your reddened, swollen entrance. A satisfied, almost wicked grin spread across his face, reflecting a raw, triumphant pleasure.

Afterward, as you both lay catching your breath, Bakugo's arm wrapped protectively around you, his voice was tender. "I love you, Y/N."

"Love you too, Kats. I think I should wear these shorts more often if this is how you react."

Bakugo’s laugh was a sound you’d treasure forever. “Just wait until I get my hands on you again. You’re mine, Y/N, and I'll show you just how wild I can get.”

@pixelcafe-network

[thebaldursmouthgazette]

I think a huge factor in people not being able to understand this game is that the game as a whole relies on understanding Solas’ character as written, and people are refusing to understand it

Solas is, and has been since his first appearance, an egotistical, hubristic, racist, manipulative, abusive and condescending asshole who regularly commits atrocities and pretends that being sad about them is enough penance. He is a terrible person who insists he’s actually the hero of the story. He is a liar and a manipulator, and he lies to himself as well. He uses other people like chess pieces and sacrifices them for his cause without much of a thought, and without them even knowing they are being used.

This is who he is. This is who he was always written to be. And veilguard is almost entirely about deconstructing that. Every member of the veilguard is a foil to solas. They are all who he pretends he is, and his false hero fantasy falls apart when you put them next to him.

Every single companion storyline is about that character successfully doing something that Solas is incapable of, but would be capable of if he wasn’t such a terrible person. And they all face a dark reflection of themselves and come out the other side mostly unscathed by that, aware that this dark reflection is not them because they are not actually like that.

Solas faces many of the same challenges the companions do, and fails each and every one of them, because, unlike them, he is not actually a hero. He is not a good person. He does not learn to accept that just because something is broken doesn’t mean there aren’t parts of it worth saving. He does not learn to accept the harsh truths and move forward. He does not accept that he is responsible for his own actions, even if someone else orders them. He fails every time.

Solas faces not one but two dark reflections of himself, Elgar’nan and Ghilan’nain, the prideful god who always thinks he’s right no matter the consequences, and the servant and lover of another god whose atrocities are not justified by having been pushed by their lover and mistress, but does not come out the other side unscathed because it turns out he IS actually like them. His reflections are accurate, they’re real parts of himself that he pretends don’t exist, not just twisted versions of their fears like they are for the companions. At the end of the game he even admits that yes, he is very similar to Elgar’nan.

Pretty much the entirety of veilguard is a very careful and deliberate deconstruction of Solas’ character and self image. We go through, in elaborate detail, all of his crimes, all of his mistakes, all of the reasons why he is wrong, why his actions are unjustifiable, why his regret doesn’t absolve him of responsibility, how he thinks it does anyway.

We completely tear down every single aspect of the image he has constructed for himself. We destroy every single excuse with clear examples showing that that was not how things had to go. Every justification. Every insistence it’s okay because he’s sorry. Every time he insists he knows best and we should leave him to it. Every single illusion that he is a good person is shattered. By the end of it there is absolutely nothing left, and his repeated attempts to keep up the facade come off as pathetic and ridiculous. In all his banters with companions he tries to use his usual tricks, pretty excuses, belittling comments, fake niceties and every time he’s completely shut down.

He tries to imply Davrin has a biased view of him from stories about the dread wolf, Davrin responds with evidence the truth is even worse. He tries to apologise to Harding, she comes back with a list of all the terrible things he’s done that an apology can’t cover. He tries to appeal to spite, spite points out he hurt Rook so why should he trust him. He comes up with excuses for killing Varric and Neve points out that there’s no pretty excuse for using blood magic on Rook in such a cruel way afterwards. The illusion is shattered. That’s what the entire game has been building up to. And it makes his last attempt at betrayal seem embarrassing, because we now see through the facade and know that he was too obsessed with himself to even consider we’d see it coming.

But the thing is a lot of people refuse to see this. This is where his characters been heading since the beginning. This is who he’s always been. But a lot of people ignore any and every negative thing about him, and then complain the game doesn’t make sense. Of course it doesn’t make sense. You’ve ignored every single theme, plot point, and piece of characterisation to make up a version of Solas in your head and that’s not the Solas the game is about. It makes complete sense when you see Solas as he truly is, as he was written to be. It’s such a good bit of writing when you actually let yourself experience it as it is and allow yourself to be open to the idea that the guy who is trying to commit his second genocide might be a bad person.

[gay-dorito-dust]

Hello could I please request civilian!reader staring at the batboys for a long time and goes “why are you so perfect and handsome, I’m so lucky to have you and I will protect you with my tiny body and hands” 🌸

Idk whether or not this is what you wanted anon but I hope you like it at least in some way 😂

Jason can’t help but let out a full belly laugh upon hearing your declaration after having stared at him for a full hour, as he walked over to you to cup your face in his hands and rest his head against yours.

‘How sweet you of chipmunk, I’ll make sure to keep that in mind whenever I’m in trouble.’ He murmurs as his thumbs stroked your cheeks.

He found it extremely endearing and sweet that you would ever go out of your way to protect someone like him but he preferred if you were to stay at home where it was relatively safe. Jason cared way too much about you to loose you, even if the comment was made in a lighthearted way.

Gotham was far too cruel for someone like you and you both knew it, the city was bound to swallow you whole before you even made it down the street.

The other thing that stuck in Jason’s mind how you thought he was perfect and handsome, to which he would always respond with;

‘I’m far from being either of those things chipmunk, but I’ll take the compliment.’

Jason didn’t view himself as an ugly dude but nor did he think of himself as handsome either, he grew up in Crime Alley and was taken in by a billionaire, he never had times to focus on the way he looked or acted in the eyes of others. Until you of course.

To Jason, Dick was someone many would consider a handsome and perfect man while those same many often regarded him as the complete opposite under the same breath. So whenever you held his face in your hands and called him handsome or perfect with a look of utter love and adoration in your eyes, Jason can’t help but find himself slowly starting to believe that he was in fact a handsome man.

If anything Jason views himself as the one who is lucky to have someone as good and as perfect as you and he reminds you of it day and night, whether he was Jason Todd, your perfect man or Red Hood, feared vigilante of Gotham.

Dick: found it really cute that you thought you could protect him, someone who had the insane flexibility and agility of a cat, but he wasn’t one to crush your dreams and aspirations.

‘My hero has finally come to save me?’ He’d gasp dramatically as he practically falls into your arms, causing you to buckle under his weight and collapse on the bed and giggle at his theatrics.

However he wouldn’t dare let you put yourself in danger in any way shape or form for the likes of him, he refused it as this life had nothing but take and take and take from him anything and everything he held dear.

He still remembered how he felt partially responsible for Jason’s death that he tries to make up for it by being in his corner when it seemed as though everyone thought ill of him.

So Dick really doesn’t want you going and pulling the heroic card on him as he wasn’t sure he’d be able to handle it, he’d act like he could when in reality he was doing far worse then anyone could imagine. So it be better if you let him do the saving.

Now Dick was aware of his own attractiveness and appeal but when you were the one calling him perfect and handsome, he’s smiling widely and internally kicking his feet and saying silly shit like;

‘You still have a crush on me? How embarrassing for you.’ To which you respond with ‘Dick we’ve been dating for 8 months-‘

When anyone else calls Dick handsome they are pointing out an already pre established fact, but when you’re the one saying he’s handsome it has more meaning as it felt as though he was being shown something that he never knew was there before. He lived for every time you called him handsome and it wasn’t because of an ego thing, he just like you calling him handsome and would never want to live in reality where he never heard you say it ever again.

Damian;

‘I can protect us both without issue so there’s no need for that.’

He sometimes takes your word a little too literally, regardless whether you were joking or not.

He was the crime fighter out of you both, so just let him do all the fighting, he doesn’t want your eyes to be burdened with the violence and criminal activity that he was accustomed to.

Also when you called him perfect and handsome, Poor Damian didn’t know what to think as it wasn’t something he viewed himself as nor expected anyone outside of his family to either.

He could handle insults and such but soft words laced with love and care towards him was an entirely new feeling for him in general that it both scared and excited him simultaneously. Besides Damian wasn’t interested in tibial things such as being conventionally attractive or whatever troubles the average person, he never thought it of any importance when other things took presidency in his life.

However when you compliment him, Damian couldn’t help but feel as though he was a little boy again, he would feel himself stiffen for a moment before the appropriate response came to him as easy as breathing, because caring for you was as easy as breathing to Damian and he’d do anything to make sure you were safe and sound wherever you are; for without you he’d be deeply lost.

[twistedwonderlandimaginesblog]

hi, love your writing! can i request Cater, Rook, Vil, Lilia, and Leona seeing their s/o wear something that turns them on/thinks is very attractive on them? thank you!

Cater Diamond:

While his first impulse might be to take a picture of the beautiful scene before him, while ordering you to pose accordingly, this was a look Cater was unwilling to share with the world. He wished he could be as smooth as he imagined but he feels his face going warm, trying to keep his thoughts in line as this wasn’t the ideal opportunity to take advantage of the outfit you’re wearing. He does mumble that your casual cruelty was killing him, nuzzling your shoulder and asking how you’d repay him if he behaved.

Leona Kingscholar:

Leona knows that you’re doing it for him, a ‘subtle’ way to beg for his attention without having to physically get on your knees for him. He can’t take advantage of it right away, pretending not to notice the efforts you’re going to, treating you so casually you would almost think you got demoted from being his lover. It’s when you’re just about to be alone, with company still bothering you, that Leona touches your waist, leaning over to whisper sweet promises in your ear to return your affections if you can manage a quick escape with him.

Lilia Vanrouge:

Lilia’s sly smile lets you know he’s caught on right away, giving a more censored comment on your outfit if others were around. He would whisper in your ear that you’re a tease, playing with the material of your outfit as he asked what had inspired you to wear such a thing. He would chuckle if you tried to play innocent, promising to pull out your honest, sinful desires when you were alone that night.

Rook Hunt:

Rook has always had a fine eye for art, and he can certainly tell when you’re all dolled up for him. He thinks it’s only right to respond with appreciation, considering you a hands on exhibit as he runs them along your body. He whispered in your ear that you always managed to draw his attention in the most unexpected ways, even when you didn’t realize. He gave some observations about the outfit, the color entirely flattering, the fit perfect for your body, he couldn’t get enough of you.

Vil Schoenheit:

Vil always felt an ego stroke when you appealed to his taste, down to the very material you clothed your body with as you knew he liked the way it felt. He needed a bit of a show first, making you show off your trick, modeling your beauty for him to give him a taste of what he was getting soon. He enjoyed admiring you the same way you admired him, considering it returning the favor as you often asked for the same thing when he took your tastes into mind. He enjoyed seeing the pieces you wore, hoping he helped you expand or grow in confidence when it came to trying new fashion.  

[azsazz]

Over Ice (Part 10)

Hockey!Rhysand x Reader

Summary: Anon Req: She’s walking around Campus and BOOM right smack dab into Broody McBrooder!! She THEN finds out he’s the tutor for one of her hardest courses (personally Psych would be a good one) and they become super duper close with him and the team!!!

Warnings: Drinking

Word Count: 3517

(Part 1) (Part 2) (Part 3) (Part 4) (Part 5) (Part 6) (Part 7) (Part 8) (Part 9)

Notes: Happy Valentine’s Day my loves 💙

_________________________________________

“Well…” Rhys trails off from over your shoulder. You don’t think your muscles could coil any tighter, didn’t think your cheeks could flare any hotter as you stared down at the returned quiz in your hands. Then Rhys appeared behind you after speaking with your professor. Not even the heat of his body nor the breath of his soft breathing can distract you from the paper. “It’s not an F.”

“It certainly isn’t an A,” you respond, glaring so hard at the red circle with the D+ scrawled in the middle. You’re focusing as much attention on making the paper burst into flames as you are trying to keep the prickling behind your eyes from turning into something more.

“I think aiming for an A was a bit ambitious to begin with,” Rhys says gently. It wouldn’t be hard for him to sense your utter disappointment, with your head hung low and the defeated slump to your shoulders. He has an urge to eat the space between you, wrap his arm around your shoulders and let you lean into him, to comfort you. He wants to see you smile, even glare at him, because anything is better than seeing you this downtrodden.

“Easy for you to say,” you mutter, shoving the paper into the fold of your binder before slamming it shut. The soft thud it makes does nothing to expel your annoyance, and you almost bare your teeth at the damn thing as you stuff it in your bag. “You’re like a dictionary for all things psychology.”

Rhys follows you from the hall. At least this was your last class before the weekend. You can shove any and all things psychology from your mind and focus on what’s much more important tonight, Gwyn’s birthday.

He holds the door to the lecture hall open and you dodge students entering for the class following yours. You catch the looks people shoot Rhys’ way. Apparently, he’s well-known. You see girls ogle him, guys nod in his direction as he passes like he’s some sort of celebrity or something. It’s almost laughable, how someone on a sports team could be so valued across a campus. And he’s not even on the football team, which you find even more impressive, since your school lives and breathes Bats football. Hockey is a close second, with women’s soccer a shocking close third for student events.

You suppose that any sporting event where people can get shit faced and scream nonsense in a large crowd would be appealing to most.

“Come on,” Rhys says. “You really didn’t do that bad.”

You shoot him a look.

“Rhys. Were we looking at the same quiz back there? Because all I saw was a big, fat D.”

He carefully folds his bottom lip between his teeth and amusement swimming to life in those heart-stopping violet eyes of his. He refrains from cracking a joke about how there could be another big, fat, D in your future, if you ask nicely. It takes superhuman effort to keep the comment to himself.

Still, you notice, and smack him playfully on the arm. “Gross.”

He holds up his hands in fake surrender. “I didn’t even say anything!”

“You didn’t need to,” you reprimand. You turn your head away from him, acting like you’re searching for something across campus. If he catches the way your cheeks flush from whatever he may have been thinking, he politely refrains from pointing it out.

“I studied so hard, Rhys,” you complain, grasping the straps of your backpack tighter. “I’m actually doomed.”

“You’re not doomed,” Rhys refutes. His arm brushes against yours as you walk and every time you remind yourself that someone could see you, you shift an inch over. “We’re going to have to work harder, that’s all.” Rhys doesn’t seem to notice the way you’re trying to create space. It’s like there’s a magnetic field drawing him into you, and within a few feet, you’re walking on the edge of the sidewalk.

And the thing is, you are trying really hard. You don’t know how much more effort you have, and there’s only a month and a half until finals. By your calculations, you’ll have to get Bs on every assignment, quiz, and test until the end of the year if you want to pass.

That sounds impossible.

“How about Saturday night? You can come over to mine after the game and we can study together.”

You can’t, even though you kind of want to see what the hockey house is like when there aren’t a thousand people stuffed into the interior. You want to see what Rhys’ room looks like. If word makes its way back to Mor, you’ll be totally and completely fucked. She’s your best friend and you’d like to keep your relationship with her. You’d be a terrible friend if you didn’t.

At your apprehension, Rhys continues. “Mor won’t find out, and if she does, all you have to do is tell her the truth. That I’m your tutor.” Fake boyfriend goes unsaid, and that’s the part you’re worried about.

Worried about it because you think you’re starting to like being Rhys’ fake girlfriend. The soft touches when Amarantha around feel good, an arm around your shoulder, the warm looks he sends you from the ice, like he’s still thinking about you when he’s deep in a game. And that kiss…you’re starting to get why his reputation is the way it is. His lips are sinful.

“I’m hoping I’ll be curing a hangover with greasy pizza or a juicy burger.” It’s a poor excuse, an even worse attempt at deflection.

Rhys quirks a brow. “From your little wine night?”

You scoff, crossing your arms over your chest as you turn down the block to your dorm. It’s now you realize that Rhys is taking the time to walk you home. He mustn’t have much to do for the party tonight, despite the extravaganza being hosted at his house. It must be nice to have teammates pulling their weight.

Gwyn doesn’t get out of her last class until six thirty, which gives you and Mor almost two hours to pull out all of the decorations you’ve been stockpiling in the back of your closet, and pick up the cake from the local bakery. You don’t have to worry about getting the drinks for later, Gwyn was so excited to finally turn twenty-one and wanted to purchase the alcohol now that she’s officially legal. You and Mor pitched in, sending her off this morning with a pancake breakfast and cash for the alcohol. You can’t wait to pop open a bottle after the long day you’ve had.

“I’ll have you know that wine drunk is way better than vodka drunk,” you wrinkle your nose, “And it’s much better than getting drunk off of Cassian’s skunk punch. Seriously, what the hell is even in that?” You shudder at the memory. “Why is it even called skunk punch?”

Rhys grimaces, especially when he remembers that there will be no escaping Cassian’s concoction of basically every alcohol he can find and afford that night. It’s somehow even worse than a bar mat shot. As part of the tradition, everyone on the team must take at least one skunk punch shot, and he’s not looking forward to it.

“Trust me, it’s better not to know the answer to either of those questions.”

“I’ll take your word for it,” you agree.

You and Rhys stop just outside your building. He stares at you like he doesn’t want this moment to end, and neither do you. There’s a betraying thought in your mind that says you should roll up onto the tips of your toes and press your mouth against his, that he wouldn’t push you away. That his hands would wind around you to pull you even closer, that his fingers would thread through your hair like they did that night and guide your head like they might have if no one interrupted your kiss—

“Well, this is me,” you say, and curse yourself for being so awkward. Truthfully, you have no idea what to say, how to act when your heart is pounding in your chest with the way he’s looking at you.

His eyes flit to the building and back. “Are you sure you can’t want to make an appearance at my party tonight?” Rhys asks. “Just in case she shows up, of course.”

Right. In case Amarantha shows face.

He wants you to come even if his ex doesn’t show up. Hell, he’s praying that she doesn’t show up. Rhys just isn’t ready to say goodbye yet. The short amount of time he’s seen you today—walking you from your class to your dorm—hasn’t been enough.

You shake your head and he tries his best to mask the deflation of his shoulders. It’s not just any wine night; it’s your roommate’s birthday. If it wasn’t such an important event, or Gwyn didn’t despise hockey so much, you’d consider trying to convince her into going. “I really can’t tonight. It’s Gwyn’s birthday, remember?”

“Of course,” Rhys offers you a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. It’s polite. Awkward. “I’ll see you Saturday night at the game, right? And we’ll study after.”

“Sure you won’t have another party to attend after the big game, Mr. Hotshot?” you tease, and a true smile threatens to crack his face.

“There is one, but one of my other teammates is hosting,” he teases back. “We’ll have the place to ourselves.”

Your stomach flips at his words. All alone with Rhys? At his house?

To study, you reprimand yourself, though you can think of a million other things you’d like to be studying instead of psychology. Anatomy, for one.

“Yeah,” you swallow the butterflies trying to escape up your windpipe. You step away from him, needing the space before you do or say something you shouldn’t. You turn toward the door, continuing over your shoulder. “See you Saturday.”

“He even had a drawing!” Gwyn exclaims, and the three of you burst into another fit of the combination of the night: laughter and tears. Laughing so hard that you can’t help the droplets that squeeze from the corners of your eyes.

Her cheeks are almost as red as the wine in her glass. Or, was in her glass. How did she down her cup that fast? Your cup is still half-full. You glance at Mor, who’s in the middle of capturing a video of the drunk birthday girl who sloppily sticks her fork into the cake the three of you have been picking at all night. She ends up with frosting on her nose and the sight of your quietest roommate having the time of her life is so endearing that you’ve barely even thought about the party Rhys is at.

“No way,” Mor refutes, shutting her phone off and taking a big gulp of her wine. She’s in a maroon tank top and sleep shorts with her fuzzy platform slippers on her feet. They’re shaped like teddy bears, and one keeps staring at you where she taps her toes to the rhythm of the music pouring from the speaker on the kitchen counter.

Gwyn’s auburn hair pops against the white t-shirt she has on. There’s an emerald logo of the local bookstore on the front and a smear of blue icing beside it. A drop of wine down the center. It’s been a night for the birthday girl, and you’re having the time of your life.

“I swear! I know I’m a writer but I’m in no way that creative,” Gwyn insists, waving her fork around. A dot of icing goes flying toward the couch and lands on Mor’s cheek, causing another round of roaring laughter.

Gwyn had been telling a story about how someone in her creative writing class wrote the most ridiculous line she’s ever heard. Watery bowels. You can’t stop thinking about it, and every time you do, it causes another wave of cackles to sound.

Mor swipes the frosting from her face and licks it off her finger. You’re about to reach for your abandoned fork when your phone buzzes next to your socked foot.

You’re thankful for the alcohol warming your skin, because you’re full-on blushing and grinning so hard your cheeks hurt at the name that appears.

Rhys: Bored yet?

He’s been bothering you all night. This is the fourth time he’s asked you this. He wants you to try and convince your roommates to go over to their house and join in on the festivities, but you told him that you were having too much fun. He then tried to score an invite to your dorm, saying that it can’t be that much fun and to prove it if it was.

You replied with a video of you sending a picture of the mutilated cake, to which Rhys sent whining emojis in response.

You: Not quite.

Rhys: Is there still cake left? I’m famished.

You squint because the words are a little hazy with the amount of wine you’ve drank tonight. You almost jump out of your seat when the phone buzzes in your hand, lighting up with Rhys’ call.

You scramble to hide the screen, making sure that neither of your roommates saw. Thankfully, they’re both occupied with something on Mor’s phone, eyes wide as they try and comprehend what they’re looking at.

You want to answer, you do. You miss Rhys even though you’ve seen him a few hours ago. You wonder what he’s wearing, if those violet eyes are glossed with drink like yours are.

When you stand with the intention of slipping somewhere private to answer Rhys’ call, Mor takes notice.

“Where are you going?”

“Bathroom,” you answer almost too quickly, and stride for the door.

“Hello?” You answer, hitting the light switch with your elbow and flicking the lock shut behind you.

“Hi,” Rhys greets, and your smile breaks your face.

It’s loud at the house he’s at, but the background noise of partying students and loud music dims some as he finds somewhere quieter. Your heart flips in your chest at the thought of him abandoning a party to call you.

“What are you doing?” You whisper, leaning back against the door.

“Calling you,” he answers like an ass. Typical.

“Yeah, I got that. But why? You know Mor is in the room with me, right?”

“Is she in the room with you?” Rhys prompts.

You roll your eyes. “No.”

“Where are you hiding?”

“Bathroom,” you mumble, cheeks flaring. The ugly cream color matches the rest of the rooms in your on-campus apartment, the ceramic flooring perpetually cold beneath your socked feet. The only ounce of color is in the shower curtain you and your roommates picked out on sale when you moved in, a teal number with swirls of gold and mint. It’s the same pattern you swear was on your grandmother’s sofa when you were young. “You?”

“My room,” Rhys says, and you try not to think too much about that. “I’d say I have about ten minutes before Cassian finds me and forces me to do a skunk shot with him, so if you hear the sound of a bear mixed with a screaming eagle, that’s him.”

You snort a laugh. “That’s okay, I only have a few minutes, too.”

“Yeah, how’s that going? You three aren’t lonely yet?”

“No,” you roll your eyes even though he can’t see. “But clearly you are.”

Rhys hums noncommittally. “So what if I am?”

The fluorescent lights are burning your eyes and you blink blearily, wondering if you just heard what you think you did. You curse yourself for forgetting your glass in the spot you abandoned to eagerly answer his phone call, because your throat has suddenly dried up. You wonder how unladylike you’ll sound if you decided to stick your head under the faucet.

“I would tell you that there’s a million girls just downstairs to keep you company,” you say, but you don’t really mean it. In fact, the wine in your stomach sours when the words come up.

“Maybe,” Rhys says, and you can picture him shrugging those broad shoulders of his. The very ones you want to kick your legs over with his head between your thighs. Fuck, you can’t be thinking like this. “But none of them are my lucky charm.”

His lucky charm? You’re his lucky charm? You can’t say that you’re upset with the sentiment, even if it’s not true. He’s drinking, he’s just flirting, which is only going to make the hole you’re already slowly digging yourself even deeper, and you’re not all that sure you’d mind.

Mor’s laughter creeps under the door and you force yourself to change the subject. Focus.

“You know what? Maybe I need one of those good luck thingies,” you sit on the edge of the tub, reveling in the way the chilled porcelain cools your burning skin.

“Good luck thingies?” Rhys muses, and you wonder what he’s doing right now. Is he lying on his bed? Sitting at his desk? Pacing the room?

You startle back into yourself when Rhys calls your name. He sounds worried, and it’s flattering. You imagine the way he might be chewing his lip, that same hot, demanding mouth you want to feel on yours again.

The scalding heat in your cheeks reflects between your legs, your pussy pulsing with want. “You listening to me?”

“Huh?”

Beautiful laughter echoes through the line and steals your breath from your lungs.

“I asked ‘what good luck thingies?’”

Good luck thingies? You frown, racking your mind for the lost conversation. Oh! “You know, like…” you trail off, waving your hand flippantly as you grasp for answers. “Something that can help me ace the next test. Like how you claim I’m your good luck charm. I think James’ is listening to this one rap song from the nineties—”

Rhys grunts unhappily and you almost smile.

“Please don’t bring up Attor while we’re on the phone,” he all but groans. You stifle a giggle at his jealousy.

“Fine,” you roll your eyes. Outside the door, your roommates begin chanting your name from the couch, their voices muffled. They’re asking for the third bottle of wine you stashed in the fridge to cool. “What do you think my good luck thingie should be?”

Rhys hums thoughtfully and the sound rumbles to your core. You’re sure he doesn’t mean it to sound as arousing as it does. You clench your thighs together carefully.

“Don’t know,” he says. “Maybe you should come here and find out.”

Gods, does that sound perfect right now. You want to know exactly what he means by that, and when you open your mouth to respond, you’re cut off by a loud pounding on his side of the phone that makes you flinch. You wobble on your perch but manage to keep steady as you hear Cassian get into his room. Rhys curses about how he thought he locked the door.

“Bitch, why the fuck are you hiding?” Cassian bellows. “We need to take skunk shots, stat! The rest of the team is waiting!”

Rhys breathes your name over the line. “I have to go. Come over if you can, yeah?”

“I can’t promise anything,” you whisper back, and the line goes dead.

You take a second to compose yourself, and exit the bathroom. Your roommates cheer when you pull the wine from the fridge and wave it around like you just won gold at the wine-retrieving event. You make a fake speech as you pour, and slowly, the FOMO trickles away.

“Ugh,” Mor groans, locking her screen and tossing it to the foot of the couch. She takes a sip of her wine and sighs dramatically. “My cousin and Cassian will not stop texting me! They’re so annoying!”

“Texting you about what?” Gwyn asks, gulping down her wine. You think she might need to stop soon, but you don’t want to kill her birthday buzz.

“Their dumb party. They keep telling me we should come over. I already told them that we’re busy!”

You watch Gwyn hum. There’s an idea churning behind those bright eyes of hers, but you have no idea what. It’s no secret that she despises hockey and everything to do with it for some reason, but you don’t know the story. She doesn’t look like she’s ready to spill on that quite yet, but her eyes do light up with mischief.

“I hate hockey and I don’t want to go to their party, but wouldn’t it be fun to prank them?”

Prank them? Coming from the girl who would never break a rule, not even something as silly as jaywalking.

“Prank them how?” You ask, sharing a confused look with Mor, who sits up on the couch and leans closer to your roommate.

“I don’t know,” Gwyn hiccups, and she looks funny with the over-dramatic way she masks on her innocence. “What if we stole that trophy they love so much?”

_________________________________________

Over Ice Taglist:

@saltedcoffeescotch @acourtofbatboydreams @mrsjna @velarisdusk @bionic-donut @tenshis-cake @eleganttravelercloud @lilah-asteria @serena05 @bwormie @soph1644 @house-husband-of-castlemurdock @tothestarsandwhateverend @topaz125 @judig92 @se7enteen--black-blog @thecraziestcrayon @cherry-cin @itsinherited @justafictionalnerd @bookishbroadwaybish @405rry @w0nderw0manly @bbykaixx @marina468 @taechvita @marigold-morelli @esahintzkanen @miakxn @ssmay123 @webvics

[wonton4rang]

having sexual tension with both leehan and taesan? so when everyone leaves except us three, shits happening 😩

YOU DID NOT WHATTHEACTUALFUCKKKK. not you making me write about my two favourite boys in bnd only for me to get even more crazy over them but thanks! (i'm literally giggling rn)

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pairing: gongfourz (taesan & leehan) x reader.

warnings: +18, smut, anal sex, double penetration, mentions of cheating, jaehyun as y/n's boyfie.

summary: where you have a strong sexual tension with taesan and leehan and they take the chance to clear it when your boyfriend's out of town <\3

note: hope you like this @hyuanlee !! it took me a while but here it is. 🫶 Also, if y'all see any typos, no you didn't.

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you were not dumb. not the slightest bit. so when your boyfriend jaehyun had to leave town for two days and his friends taesan and leehan dropped by your house, you knew it.

partly, you were not surprised by the fact that those two wanted to pay you a visit, even though they knew their friend was not home, just to make sure you were doing okay.

a call would've done it.

not to mention the way they looked at you, with so much hunger that it was soooo obvious that they would mess you up of they could. they would always make those "inoffensive" comments on how good you looked, how lucky was the man who managed to pull you.

jaehyun laughed at all of their jokes, loving the way his friends complimented his girl but totally missing their point when they would just laugh along and look at each other with that mischievous glow in their eyes.

jaehyun was so dumb.

but it was always like that, always the same absurb tension that would make you feel that weird feeling in your stomach, making your pussy throbb and you feeling so suffocated it was nonsense; like if you had a hand around your neck pressing with so much force you could faint.

they were both hot, they were both sexually appealing and you couldn't deny that you would love to have them between your legs. but they were your boyfriend's friends, you would never want to go that far with them, right? it was all jokes.

sure thing, whatever you say.

"y/n, aren't you hungry?" leehan asked you when he sat down in your side, the sofa shrinking a bit with his weight, you stopped looking at your phone to face him. "i didn't see you eating anything earlier"

"i'm good, i ate a lot at lunch so i'm not really hungry" you smiled back, feeling his gaze down your face before he moved it to your chest, picking at the skin he could see through the fabric of your pajamas "where's taesan anyways?" you tried to distract, looking around while leehan just kept getting closer to you.

"he's getting something" he just grinned at you, reaching your shirt with his fingers and playing a little bit with the fabric around your boobs, getting closer to your face before adding "this is such a soft material, where did you get it?"

"i got it when i went shopping with jaeyhun" you mentioned, backing up a bit. "i think it was on that cute store in the corner of the mall- what are you doing!?"

"i'm just touching it, can't i?" his voice was so low that it made you shiver, cursing a little bit in your mind when your nipples responded to it. "huh, it doesn't seems like you hate it though"

"shut it, it's kinda cold" he laughed at you when his fingers grazed your hard nipple and you jumped a little "yo, stop that"

"you don't like it?" but before you could answer his eyes dropped to your shorts, passing his tongue over his lips when he looked at your thighs "that short looks comfy, ain't it?"

"leehan, you have to quit it"

"can i touch it?" at this point you didn't knew what he meant, but being for real, you knew. and even though your morality was rotting your head and your hands started to shake a little bit, the thought of your boyfriend peeking out for a second before you heard a soft mumble on your ear, leehan making you rest your head on his arm and your thighs tensing when he finally ghosted his fingers close to your clothed pussy, softly pressing down on the flesh and looking at your face for confirmation when he said "do you mind?"

"no, i- you can"

and you didn't need to say it again when his fingers moved your shorts aside, finally feeling the wet patch in your panties when he touched them. you felt a little bit ashamed about it but the way his dick poked your thigh make you understand how hot it was for him too.

of course it was.

two of his fingers kept pressing down on your mount, still over your underwear, giving soft massages in that place and his face moving to kiss your left cheek with a warm kiss, his nose brushing against your face before he left a low moan out, his hips humping your thigh a little bit.

"you are so wet, y/n, why didn't you say anything? i could've helped you" he would whisper against your ear, leaving a soft bite afterwards and palming your pussy twice, making you flinch a bit before laughing. "so sensitive and yet so quiet"

"i don't know what you mean" you said back, you were not gonna admit he got you leaking by just getting close to you. never in a million years.

"you know exactly what i mean" and then his middle finger pressed against your folds, right in the middle, moving just enough to cause some friction between your underwear and your clit. "you love this, don't you? no need to hide it"

but color left your face when the door was opened, your hands holding leehan's arm and trying to pull him away from your clothed cunt but failing when he just laughed in your face, and dammit, his smile was so pretty that it even got you hotter, your pussy throbbing under his touch and your cheeks flushing when you say the third person entering the room.

"taesan"

you almost breathed out in relieve. well, for a second because then you remembered the situation you were on, you were just so grateful that it wasn't jaehyun that you forgot about it for a second.

"i thought we were playing with her together" he said in exchange, his eyes glued to the place where the younger male's fingers were.

"sorry, hyung, i couldn't help it. it's not like she opposed a lot either" he softly smiled "didn't even put up a fight"

you just watched the two boys in confusion, your hands loosening their grab on leehan's arm when taesan got closer, letting a plastic bag in the coffee table of the living room before taking place contrary to leehan on your side.

he looked at you a little bit differently than the younger male did, his eyes being somewhat sharper but his intentions not feeling so aggressive as leehan's. his right hand cupped your face and he licked his lips before leaning closer, barely touching the skin of your cheeks before pressing his forehead against the side of your face.

"can i kiss you, y/n?" he softly asked, leehan gulping on your side and restarting the movement of his finger against your pussy. taesan looked for your eyes when you went silent, trying to understand what your look supposed to mean. "you don't want me to-"

"i do, please"

taesan was never much of a talker, so he just laughed a lil bit at you saying 'please' when he was two seconds away from begging you. his lips crashing against yours right away and your chest lifting up and down a little bit fast due to the different feelings you were having, taesan's lips and tongue playing with yours and leehan's fingers making you grind down his hand, moaning into taesan's mouth when you felt both of them humping each one of your thighs.

"fuck, you're so hot" this time was leehan who talked, his finger finally breaking the barrier of your clothes and fully touching your soaked pussy. "goddamn it"

but you grew anxious when you felt that he left your side, almost breaking your kiss with taesan but the boy holding your face in place and stopping you from detaching his lips.

and you had your reasons to be nervous when your short got pulled down your legs with your panties and leehan was suddenly between both of your legs, his head so close to your pussy you actually felt his breath twitch before he finally left a long lick in your clit. your legs trembled and they both loved it, taesan's right hand going for leehan's hair and pressing the younger one against your cunt.

he left your lips to look at leehan eat you out, licking his own lips before saying "he looks so cute, doesn't he?" you had to hold in a whine when leehan mumbled in your pussy and sent some vibrations "such a pretty boy eating your cunt, don't you like him?"

"i do" was all you said, your eyes shut closed and your thighs on leehan's shoulders while he furiously lapped on your clit, flicking his tongue a little bit before placing wet open-mouthed there, gulping and taking that bulge of nerves between his teeth, gracing it and making your legs tremble. he was so good, so messy "fuck, stop, that's- oh my god"

"why do you want him to stop if you are feeling so good, y/n?" taesan was the one who spoke now, his fingers still tangled on leehan's hair but his eyes were looking at you, his lips so close to your ear that you could feel his breath when he talked. "do you like it like that?"

but at this point you couldn't even answer properly, just slowly moving your hips and riding leehan's face, being easy since taesan kept him pressed there with his hand. it was so hot, so dirty yet so wrong.

was it that bad if it felt so good? probably yes, but this time you wouldn't mind. just this time.

taesan took your lack of words as a signal that it was going good, and it was, so he could take care of himself now. he left your side met leehan between your legs, sharing a small grin with the younger before holding your legs up so they could both eat you out.

he was not gonna miss eating your cunt just because leehan was there, sharing some saliva with the other male and the sounds being so obscene it made you shake, trying to close your legs when it got too much.

both tongues playing with your pussy, taesan's middle finger knuckle deep inside your cunt and flicking up like a mad beast, leehan's soft moans sending vibrations to your wet folds and it was just too much.

"guys, stop, please i'm- please" but your hands went to hold their heads in place, your fingers tangling in their hair and you just feeling how the laughed "oh my god"

and just like that you came, right into their tongues, with a whine moan making you feel so ashamed before you felt the warmth of their faces abandon your cunt, taesan's finger slipping out and making you feel empty.

"you good?" leehan would ask, licking his lips with a smirk that just made your legs weak, the fact that taesan licked the finger that was previously inside of you didn't help either. "you have such a sweet pussy, baby. could eat you out three times a day"

"you are seriously mental" taesan laughed and fixed leehan's hair before facing you one more time. "but he's right tho"

"you both are insane" was all you could mumbled, your legs still shaking when you tried to cover your pussy by pulling your shorts up.

"what do you think you're doing?" your eyes pawned to leehan's and your ears could pick up the tingling metal sound of their belts being unbuckled, putting your shorts on anyways. "have you taken two at the same time before?"

"guys, i- i don't think we should do this. go this far, you know" both boys just kinda laughed, still undoing their pants and making you gulp when you noticed how hard they were for what you could peek before they lowered their trousers when you spoke again "i'm being serious"

"are you?" this time taesan spoke and before you could add he continued "that's not what your body and eyes are saying"

"i shouldn't"

"but you want to, and to be honest, we are already halfway there, y/n"

"you guys are not going to say anything, right? you know how he is and this would make him feel awful and i-"

"we won't say a thing" leehan reassured you and you quickly nodded. seeing how they started to lower their jeans made you get up and hold both of their hands.

"not here"

so they followed you upstairs, staring at your ass shamelessly and standing at the door when you guided them to a room, both of them looked at you with lifted eyebrows and you had to explain that it wasn't the one you shared with jaehyun, this one was a separate one you guys had with your old stuff that you brought when you left your parents house.

"good thing you brought your bed" joked leehan, finally walking into the room and taesan closing the door behind them.

he grabbed your face and finally stamped his lips on yours, his kisses were messier than taesan's but lighter and not that warm nor deep, his tongue brushed against yours and you jumped a little when taesan held your hips from behind, kissing your neck and softly moving his hands to the front of your shirt, caressing your already hard nipples through the fabric.

leehan's hands were divided, one cupping your face and the other one holding the hem of your shorts, threatening with pulling it down every once in a while. they were both driving you crazy, the feelings being too good and them being so hot.

you felt taesan's lips leaving your neck with an audible pop and immediately felt leehan pulling away too, both of them dragging you to the bed before taesan took his jeans off and layed down, pulling you to this lap and slowly moaning when he made you grind down on his hard dick, lifting you up enough remove his underwear and for you to remove your shorts.

"fuck" you heard him say when his naked dick finally brushed your cunt, seeing him bite his lip for a bit "leehan, i left the condoms and the stuff on the coffee table below, can you get them?"

"on my way"

"i'm sorry about that, pretty, but we need them" he explained before holding your nape and bringing you down so he could kiss you in the meantime "we're gonna fuck you so good"

so when leehan finally got back, everything started to move fast, the way taesan took the condom and ripped the package with his teeth, putting it on and immediately dropping you on top of his throbbing length, the way he moaned so sweetly yet low when you took it all the way in, biting your own lip and putting your hands on his chest.

you started to move on him, first rocking your hips from the front to the back a little bit and then starting to lift and drop, up and down, a good rhythm being found almost immediately when his hands held your hips and his own hips started to thrust up.

but what startled you was the cold feeling in your ass when leehan's lips attached to your ear, softly whispering "let me get you ready, hm?"

and suddenly he started to circle your hole, playing with the rim of nerves and slowly peeking his finger inside, getting enough lub so that it won't hurt you. taesan also helped, caressing your legs and pulling you in for a kiss while leehan worked you up.

one finger was in and you tensed, a second one got in after a few seconds and you were truly not as nervous as you were five minutes ago. in fact, it felt kinda good now.

so leehan finally picked up a pace and fucked two fingers in and out of your ass, the way taesan's cock was still hard and inside of your pussy creating a delicious friction that made you laugh and roll your eyes.

that was about enough. so leehan finally took his pants off and took place behind you, aligning his dick with your ass after putting the condom on and pushing in without even saying anything, going all the way and making even taesan moan because of the friction.

and then the pace started again, but this time with both of them, taesan fucking your pussy and leehan your ass, both of them doing it fast and deep, leehan's hand around your neck and his arm around your chest to keep you up, taesan playing with your hard nipples.

it was all too good, too perfect, too exquisite. it was driving you crazy.

"oh god, yes, please" you kept repeating, one of your own hands going to your clit to play with it and furiously rub it. you were so overwhelmed that you knew you were going to come at any moment. "you feel so good. you both fuck me so well"

and they just kept pushing, desperately looking for release and finding it when taesan came first, your warm and wet walls bringing him to the edge. also, watching you from below while leehan also fucked you, held your neck with his hand and both of you moaning?? taesan was a visual and audio man, that was too much.

but leehan, on the other side, is a man of feelings. so when he felt your pussy throbbing around taesan's dick after he came, causing you to cum too and tense your ass walls, he couldn't hold it either, giving you a deep and sharp thrust before finishing.

"goddamn" was all the younger male said, letting his grab on you go and you falling on taesan's chest, immediately being held on a hug by him and feeling your cheeks being kissed. "that was crazy good"

"it was" you confirmed and taesan just mumbled in agreement, hiding his face in the crook of your neck before you felt leehan pulling out. "are you guys staying for dinner?"

"i thought you said you weren't hungry" leehan started with some fun on his voice. "although the way your pussy and ass ate our cocks says otherwise"

but you just didn't have the strength to fight him back this time, just lazily laughing against taesan's skin and closing your eyes to rest, leehan went to lay down with you both and took a sheet to cover your naked bodies.

taesan held you close but made you lay on the bed, between him and leehan, you still having his cock inside your pussy tho. just laying there, being hugged by the two boys and comfortably falling asleep on their arms.

jaehyun was not coming home until the day after tomorrow so you will have time to do this again and then talk it out with the pillow to not feel so bad about it.

but c'mon, what were you supposed to do? he was out of town and his two friends were soooooo hot.

[another-lost-mc]

a new dating sim catches your eye and asmo is absolutely 100% not jealous at all.

a date with death | asmodeus x gn!reader

cw: sfw (slightly suggestive towards the end). pet names (asmo calls reader darling, sunshine). vague spoilers for parts of the game (up to day five). silly fluff and jealousy over 2d characters.

word count: 1.2k words

a/n: I really like this game (a date with death) btw, I definitely recommend it.

"I tried that new game you've been playing."

Asmo's comment catches you off-guard and your eyes slowly blink open. You were on the verge of sleep, warm and content with his chest pressed against your back and his arm draped loosely over your waist. The words are muffled slightly against your shoulder, his lips leaving a sticky trail from the hydrating mask he smoothed over them as part of his nightly skincare routine.

You've been playing a new dating sim lately. You knew Asmo peered at the monitor over your shoulder to see what you were up to, but he didn't seem all that interested. He didn't give any indication that he wanted to play it himself, either.

It's not the first romance-based game you've played in the Devildom and he never cared before. He thinks it's cute when you find a character that appeals to you. Sometimes he watches you play through the stories, or he'll listen with a smile while you talk about the game later.

When you offered to play other games with him in the past, he insisted that was Levi's area of expertise. That didn't prevent him from finding his own ways to enjoy your hobby with you though. He preferred to indulge you with a little bit of roleplay instead: parading around his room dressed like your favourite characters, imitating their speech patterns and mannerisms to sweep you off your feet, and seducing you as if they had come to life.

(Later, he seduced you properly as himself because no one can ever love you as much as he does).

But he knew right away that this particular game was different. You giggled at your desk while you tapped away at your computer. It made you smile in a soft and charming sort of way. It irked him that some pictures and words on a screen drew that sort of reaction from you the same way he did.

You lean back and glance at him over your shoulder. His expression is hard to read in the dark, but you can feel the heavy weight of his stare on your face. "I didn't know you wanted to play it. You should've told me! Did you like it?"

"Not at all," he declares firmly, and you can't help but chuckle at his sharp response.

"Really? Why not?"

"I'm so glad you asked, darling," he says as he turns over and sits up suddenly. He flips on the lamp beside him, and he rubs the back of his hand against your cheek in apology when you wince as light illuminates his room. He plucks something off the bedside table and waves it in your direction with a flourish. "I made a list!"

You give him a skeptical look as you roll over to give him your full attention, and he clears his throat and taps the top of the page. "My first complaint is the ridiculous title: I Made a Bet and Have to Survive the Next Seven Days Without Falling in Love With a Babygirl Reaper Who Wants My Soul! Seriously? The title alone should warn you how terrible it's going to be."

"That's not what it's called in the human world," you explain with a shrug. "I don't understand why they changed it here, it's a little bit silly."

He tsks under his breath. "Silly indeed. Where do I even begin with this so-called love interest? It's almost like the creators have never met a real reaper before. I can assure you most of them aren't as nice or cute as they make him out to be." The look he shoots you next is oddly serious, and it sends a chill up your spine as his words sink in. "I recommend not getting too close to their kind. Thirteen seems docile enough, but I prefer your body and soul to remain in one piece."

You're not sure how to begin to respond to that little speech, but he pokes the paper with his finger and continues reading his list of "glaring issues" with the game. The complaints get more ridiculous and obscure, and it's only when he gets to the bottom of the page that the reason for his sour mood dawns on you.

"...and when I thought it couldn't get any worse, he calls you 'sunshine.' He has some nerve - that's what I call you. Remember when Mammon thought it would be funny to call you his sunshine too?" A dangerous gleam twinkles in his eyes before it disappears just as quickly. "At least he learned not to do that again," he murmurs under his breath.

You shuffle over on your knees and swing your leg over his thighs so you can sit in his lap. "Do you have any other complaints on that little list of yours?" you ask him with a teasing smile.

He huffs in frustration and his frown is adorable - of course he has one more grievance to share. "That stupid reaper doesn't even know your favourite flower. Tomorrow I'm going to buy you the biggest and most beautiful bouquet you've ever seen."

He finally drops the paper but neither of you spare it a second glance as it falls over the side of the bed and flutters to the floor. He wraps his arms around you and squeezes your waist gently, slumping his head against your chest with a drawn-out sigh. "I don't see what you like about him."

"Oh, Asmo." You run your hands gently through his hair as you hide your smile against the crown of his head. "Are you telling me there's a video game character you're actually jealous of?"

"Of course not," he mumbles into your collarbone, mouthing softly at the skin with little flicks of his tongue but it's not quite enough to distract you. "I wanted to see what all the hype was about." His teeth graze the bottom of your throat and you swallow down a quiet moan. "I found it extremely disappointing, by the way."

You cradle his jaw gently and tilt his head up so you can kiss the corner of his mouth. "You're so cute when you pout," you coo softly, just to watch how his cheeks turn pink. "I hope you know that he could pop into existence and appear outside your window right now, and I still wouldn't be interested in him. He's not you."

The words seem to soothe him a bit if the purring in his chest is anything to go by. You kiss the tip of his nose and let out a quiet squeak when he grasps the back of your neck and pulls you down so he can kiss you.

Repeatedly.

"You're right, darling." Kiss. "He's completely irrelevant," kiss "and I've already forgotten what his name is."

The world tilts suddenly as Asmo flips you onto your back and braces his weight on his hands. You giggle when he leans down and noses along your jaw. One of his hands slowly glides down your chest and tugs at the hem of your shirt, lifting it up and tossing it aside without a second thought.

"Let's see if I can make you forget his name too, hmm?"

read more: asmodeus masterlist | obey me masterlist

[genderqueerdykes]

I promise this is just coming from someone who wants to learn, and I apologize if it sounds hateful or rude for what I'm about to ask that is not what I want at all,

but when it comes to systems, DID, plurality, from what I have heard, it is something extremely extremely rare, and something that most people under the age of 25 the body isn't even supposed to like "reveal" until older. I'm just confused and I would really like to hear from someone who actually is plural and not just from like Google

is being a system, DID, and plurality even the same? And the only plural people I have met irl have like 25,000+ alters of dsmp characters (I ofc know not everyone who is plural isnt just fictive and it's all different)

just a very confused person who isn't plural and I would really like to learn and be educated !! I would really like to understand more and hate unreasonably for something I don't understand

hello there!

you can be plural without having DID. there's not really much else to it. DID is one form of plurality. it's not the end all be all of plurality. there are even other dissociative disorders like OSDD that get cast by the wayside when people adopt this kind of mentality. there's so much more to plurality than DID. also, there is no set age at which the symptoms at DID become apparent on the outside. i've been having dissociative symptoms since i was a kid. my alters were active and present even as a teenager!

relying on medical statistics alone for DID is a bad idea because most professionals who are capable of diagnosing someone with a mental health condition don't even know what dissociative disorders are or what they entail. my own therapist has known that I have DID the entire time i've known her, but she has told me that currently, she can't help me with it, because she has not received training for it. dissociative disorders are nowhere near as rare as we think they are, one has to consider that a number even as low as 1% - 2% of the global population is an absolutely massive number of people!

saying that DID is "extremely rare" in this case in order to discredit non dissociative plurals is an appeal to authority. it's appealing to the medical industry who refuses to take it seriously in the first place. the amount of professionals i've had who pointed out that i have dissociative disorders vs. the ones who never commented on it at all is pretty staggering. this is due to a lack of proper research due to lack of funding, not because DID is genuinely that rare. the reason there isn't more research into plurality in general is because of a lack of funding. medical studies and organizations require funding. if they don't see money in it, they won't do it.

DID is still a heavily stigmatized condition. things haven't gotten much better since it was renamed from Multiple Personality Disorder. people with dissociative disorders are still treated like shit in medical settings, so to me, it makes no sense at all whatsoever to pit dissociatives against other plurals because no one takes ANY of us seriously, it's not non-dissociative plurals' faults that we're not taken seriously. it's the medical industry. there are no medications to push for DID. DID does not respond to medication. this already makes a lot of doctors not want to interact with it at all, because there's no commissions for medications prescribed.

"And the only plural people I have met irl have like 25,000+ alters of dsmp characters."

i'm pointing this out gently, i don't think you're a bad person, but this is sooooo mean, please don't be that mean and judgmental about other people, plural or not. please consider how those people would feel if they heard you talking about them like that. even if you don't view them as plural, you shouldn't think it's okay to discredit their lived experience. what are you getting out of phrasing it like that? even if that person turns out to not be plural, please do not judge other people based off of things like this. you don't live inside of their head. you don't know what's going on in there.

i'm not entirely sure why people think this way about introjects and fictives, but they're an extremely normal part of the plural experience! one of the most well known DID systems of all time, Truddi Chase and The Troops, had not only fictional alters (Elvira) but also factual ones as well (Mean Joe Green). this is not new, nor is it isolated to non dissociative plurals. introjects and fictives are extremely normal. it doesn't mean someone is faking just because they've introjected someone, or someones.

hope that helps, in general, please understand that the only lived experience that you are the arbiter of is your own and you cannot tell someone else what they're experiencing, no matter what. plurality will look different for every person, system and so on that experiences it! the sooner you accept that the easier your own life will become. it's not hurting you for someone to have headmates that you don't like. that's their business, not yours, and that's actually a very freeing thing!

great addition from the tags:

[bouquetface]

PAC: First Date.

Topic is first date. May have already happened or will. Not necessarily with your future spouse.

As always, I will be specific not going to appeal to everyone. Not every reading you come across is meant for you. Take it as entertainment.

Photos of Dom Fike because I’ve been feeling nostalgic.❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥

1. 2.

One.

This relationship will begin through technology. Maybe an instagram DM. I don’t really believe it will be through a dating app. This is due to there being confusion at first. You may be unsure if they’re trying to talk to you romantically or in a platonic way. I see you going to someone in your house (roommate, sister, or mom). Reading some of the texts out loud and asking their opinions.

Whoever you tell may advise you to be careful. There is something about this person that makes them doubtful. It could be they have a mischievous appearance or persona. They may be a gemini rising. Attractive and seemingly popular. It can be unclear when someone like this is flirting fr or in a friendly/joking way.

Fairly quickly, they’ll ask to meet up. Somewhere local and in public. The setting of the date and casual way it was asked is making you overthink. You may think a proper date is something like going to the movies, going to dinner. Not meeting up at a random time during the day. It’ll be a sunny day. You may be given a loose idea of what’s going to happen. Like “i want to see you” “meet me at _____ since we’re both free”.

The lead up is going to make you nervous. It may be the advice/conversation you had about this person earlier. There are more nerves than usual for a meet up. The way they asked may make it still unclear if it’s a date or not. You could go back and forth with yourself on whether it’s a date or hanging out.

When you do meet up, the first comment made will instantly relax you. They may say something about your height - something about your appearance or the appearance of the location. Physically, I believe they’ll be very lanky. It could be your lanky as well or you’re notably shorter. You two will end up walking a lot that day. You may get drinks or a small treat along the way. Seems you two are just exploring the area & talking.

They’ll be very curious about you. Asking lots of question, teasing/joking at your answers. They may ask questions off topic or change topics a lot. A bit scatterbrained but it keeps the conversation moving. At the same time they’re very detached - making them a confusing person to read. It doesn’t seem like they take life too seriously. They respond to things with humour or logic.

It really seems you are very nervous or confused. They don’t pick up on it at all though. They have a playful nature but you’ll still be confused at their intentions. I am not sure if this makes them a red flag or not. I don’t know if you tend to overthink things normally, or if their personality is making you react that way. Their chill & kinda stoic nature may not work for you.

It is the first date so it does take people time to open up. All their questions for you, does suggest they have a desire to get to known you on a deeper level. Yet, I will be honest this first date seems more like a hangout, kinda low effort so if that doesn’t appeal to you, this next date may be a let down. Keep in mind though it’s the first date and seems like the first ever meet up. Of course, they’ll be a bit on guard if they just met you. At the end of the day, it’s up to you to decide.

Two.

The two of you will be in a more private area than the first pile. Despite being alone with person, you’ll feel very comfortable. This might be someone you already knew before going on a date. Maybe someone from the past that you haven’t seen in a while. You could have gone to school together.

It could be dinner at a restaurant. Yet, the comfortable & private energy is making me believe you could be at yours or their place. They may walk you to your door and you invite them in. They may take you to their place after the night. Perhaps, you invite them in to watch a film.

This is very random but they definitely went to the barber a few days before this date to get cleaned up. You may really like the way their hair looks. They may have had a glow up since the last time you saw them. You could be wearing something very sexy. Black or red. Omg pile 2, this could be someone who felt friend zoned by you in the past.

Your look that night is driving them crazy. The scorpio card coming up is making me think you knew what you were doing when you put on that outfit. The fireworks card literally says “Loving Passionate Intimacy”. Whether it gets sexual that first night or not, the feelings are definitely there. It feels like a dream come true to this person. You are their fantasy come to life. They may have been secretly admiring you for a while.

4th of July is coming up so possibly for American readers, there could be literal fireworks. The reading is still strongly indicating an intimate vibe. You may sneak off together, end up alone watching fireworks. I literally pulled the fireworks card and am now hearing fireworks. I’m in Canada, and apparently my neighbours couldn’t wait until Canada Day (which is tmr). Crazy coincidence. They began and (have seemed to) stop at this pile.

Unlike the first pile, I believe very strongly you will want to see this person again. There is no doubt in my mind. You two are very attracted to each other. Ofc this won't be the future spouse for everyone reading but for someone reading this, it definitely is the first night with your future spouse.

[leggerefiore]

Since it’s spooky season does that mean it’s time for S/O to whip out the cute Halloween costumes (inflatable Rotom suit for Cyrus) and the sexy Halloween costumes (cardboard train cutout for the twins) to surprise their pokebfs? 😏😏😏😏

cw: fluff, comedy

characters: Cyrus, Ingo, Emmet, Grimsley, Lear, Volo

🌌Cyrus🛰

☄️ “... What are you wearing,” Cyrus deadpanned as he looked up from his paperwork. You had suddenly burst into his work office, which made him concerned about how his security was doing their jobs. Yet, this would have been a mild surprise had it not been for your attire. He could barely have guessed it were you had it not been for your knowledge of his fascination with a certain pokemon. It was an inflatable Rotom costume. He swallowed. The unblinking blue eyes of the costume stared into him while a ceaseless grin was on its face. “Beloved. Take that off at once,” he ordered, his chest feeling oddly tight. It was harder to breathe for him than usual.

☄️ “I didn't expect it to have that effect on you, Cy,” you teased him. He gasped. How dare you— He certainly was not feeling anything related to that from the costume! A bit of colour dusted across his cheeks as he shook his head. “Well, since you told me to,” you began to shed away the costume. It then hit him that you likely had nothing else to wear aside from that. He was now rushing over to stop you and telling you to keep on the costume. The last thing he needed was an ill-timed Saturn visit to his office and a thousand questions from his commander.

▲Ingo▼

● The older twin stood in a rare, dead silence as you entered his office. You visiting him was not so uncommon… But your choice of attire had shocked him into a lack of words. Truly, it was a feat to silence Ingo. Had Emmet been there, he likely would have made a comment on it, but he was attending to a trainer on the battle lines, which left you alone with older twin in your cardboard cut-out of a train costume. Ingo blinked. Finally, his pen fell from his hand. “Dearest… I am uncertain of what to say,” he admitted, “... What are you wearing.”

● “Something sexy,” you replied. Ingo was once more silenced. Sexy…? He… He had no idea how to respond to your claim. How many times must he be teased about his love of trains…? It was certainly nothing more than a deep appreciation for them! How they functioned… Their manner of build… The interior, the exterior. He swallowed. Your costume was nothing close to such a thing, unfortunately to say. He shook his head. Truly, what was going through your mind? He had a thousand questions but no interest in asking them. Biting his tongue, he simply asked why you had come to visit him instead.

▽Emmet△

○ That unwavering smile was on his lips as you entered his office wearing something strange. The younger twin had just clocked out for his lunch and had been thinking about texting you to meet him if you could, yet here you were without needing to be prompted. It would have been a nice surprise had you not bewildered him with your choice of attire. A cardboard cut-out of a twin with a morph suit. He blinked. Honestly, he had seen stranger things on the passenger lines and knew better than to pretend it was the oddest thing he had seen. “... Darling,” he started simply, “Why?”

○ “To get you going,” you replied. Emmet shook his head. Absolutely not. Yes, he liked trains. He liked trains a lot. This, however, was not something appealing to him. He could think about a thousand other costumes that would actually have sex appeal to him. Really… Sexy Galvantula hybrid would have been a better choice. This was just… Emmet sighed. Or, maybe, a sexy version of his uniform. He could enjoy that. You and him on the multi line together… He swallowed. Whatever he built up in his mind was instantly demolished by the costume, however. He instead asked about you joining him for lunch.

♠️Grimsley❤️

♤ “I take offence to that,” the gambler eyed you up and down as you entered his Elite Four chamber. He was sitting on his couch as usual, letting his Liepard nap in his lap. There had not been any challengers that day so far, which left him quite bored. When he heard someone enter, he had been excited… Especially when he heard your voice. This could prove quite the thrilling experience… Except you were in some horribly stereotypical Dracula costume. Grimsley sighed. The vampire accusations never ended. Can't a guy have a blood kink in peace? “Are you here to bite me?” he teased.

♡ “Yes,” you deadpanned and stepped towards him, hovering over him on the couch. He looked up at you, expression smug as ever. His trained poker face impossible to break. As you leaned down towards his neck, however, his Liepard startled awake and hissed in surprise at your closeness. You jumped back, having the fake fangs pop out of your mouth. Grimsley chuckled. Well, it seems he had a fierce protector. His hand combed through the fur of the feline as you whined about the moment being ruined. To him, however, it was ruined the moment you entered in that costume. He planned to take you out of it, though.

👑Lear💎

🪙 “Absolutely not,” were the first words from the prince's mouth as you entered his private quarters. He had been working out plans for this year's Halloween event and had called on you to give some ideas. However, it seemed you had something else in mind as you appeared before him in some horrifyingly over the top king costume. And that was coming from someone who often took over the top to over the top. The plastic crown on your head especially made him seethe. Rubbing salt in his wounds… “Tch. Take that off at once and change into something else. You have clothes in here.”

🪙 “... You're no fun,” you whined and stepped towards him, placing the crown on his head, “I bought this specifically for you and everything.” He shook his head, not caring to take off the crown. Really… The robe over your shoulders of faux fur and the gaudy, cheap fabric of the suit. He wanted to scold you for daring to think he would ever enjoy such a thing. Though… He did feel oddly inspired. A costume party again would not be so bad… Maybe a masquerade ball of some kind? He had ideas now. Turning away from you, he began scribbling his thoughts for Halloween events in his notepad. You stood their a-gasp at his actions.

📜Volo💫

⭐️ The merchant quite literally hissed when you approached him. You both had agreed to have a moment alone in one of the forests of Pasio. He was quite excited to see you… Well, the you of this world. Apparently, after you had fled Hisui back to your own time. But, you seemed to have some twisted sense of humour. How dare you wear something like that! “This is not funny,” he grumbled, “How could you?” The attire… Your clothing… He wanted to tear it from you. An inflatable costume of Arceus! Such heresy! He knew you were mocking him for his failure. The deity dared choose you over him, and it had gone to your head.

⭐️ “Hey, Volo,” you tried putting on a voice, “It's Arceus. I want you to stop being a menace. Please. Thank you.” You then turned to walk away. He rushed after you and grasped you tightly, actually tearing off the costume. His expression was something terrifying, reflective of how upset he truly was by your attempt at mocking him. He would never stop pursuing Arceus… Or you, for that matter. He held on to you for a moment before realising how bad the situation would look to a passer-by and letting you go. He then marched off like nothing had happened. He heard you laughing; he chose to ignore it.

[ronearoundblindly]

hey! fic title: we want what we can’t have

Hmmmm, this makes me think of like a parasocial online relationship, and you know, if it's online, I'm going with our boi, Jakey... From this ask game.

Jake Jensen x influencer!single mom!reader

Not really any warnings except Jake is a liarliarpantsonfire.

It started over at his sister's house. His niece loves to watch DIY videos on Youtube, and you're pretty big with kid-friendly projects that you and your daughter do on camera.

At first, Jake is so focused on not spilling a full jar of glitter across the table and carpet that he didn't notice you were very easy on the eyes, he didn't pick up on the slightly adult, double-entendres you laced in, and he didn't appreciate the stare-at-the-lens moments reminiscent of Jim from The Office.

By the third video though, he absolutely sees the appeal...even if it's not for the same reasons as his family. He's crushing hard, fast, and that was before he found your Twitch stream!

Jake could not care less if you're good at the games because he loves to hear your unhinged laugh when something goes awry. Pretty quickly he finds himself playing your videos while gaming himself and responding to questions you throw out into the void of the internet. No, you can't listen or answer, but IRL social interaction is not his specialty. He's enjoying living vicariously through this stuff.

He actually comments sometimes, not often though since he can see how inappropriate some guys (and girls) get with you in the stream. He knows he's too awkward to make a great impression in the midst of all that, so he keeps it light.

Jake is, however, in complete denial of how bad his crush on you is getting over the many, many months he dives deeper into your 'fandom.'

Once, when he found himself yet again watching a craft video with his niece, he responded without thinking. They were on the porch, squinting at a propped up tablet in the sun, and he quickly typed "me and my girl are loving this!"

Harmless enough, right? Sure, but then he got a ping back.

Be sure to send me a pic of the finished product.

So he did. He laid the two papers beside each other on the glass tabletop and snapped a shot.

😍 Whose is whose, I wonder...

So Jake had his niece hold up hers as he posed with his, ballcap, glasses, graphic-T, and all.

Someone else answered--oh man, is dad single???? --but you liked that comment and responded with a simple "my thoughts exactly 🤭."

He's in too deep now; he wants to talk to you. Jake types those fateful two words.

He is.

It's not strictly a lie, but he in no way corrects the mistaken interpretation. He cannot give up the opportunity.

So he takes some more goofy pictures in front of the wall of art in his niece's room, and you gush about how cute it (and he) is, noting the soccer trophies on one shelf.

Jake proudly tells you all about her many successes in private messages on Twitch [idk how twitch works just go with it if that's wrong], and you mention recognizing his username. There isn't a chance in hell he's letting go now. Guess he's a dad. Cool. He will literally do whatever you vaguely insinuate you want him to do, be whoever you seem to want him to be, anything.

It's still a lie though, and Jake even goes so far as to refer to his niece specifically as 'his daughter.' He's outright lying now, and he doesn't care. He keeps lying, and it spreads to lying to his sister once you announce a summer series of videos--you're taking your daughter to all the largest play grounds in the nearby states, one of which is 30 miles from his sister's place.

Jake floats the idea of taking his niece on this very specific day, says it can't be any other day, and fibs that it's because he'll be gone for work before and after. He messages you the good news that you can meet...if you're okay with that, and he's thrilled when you excitedly announce the girls can meet. Everyone will have so much fun; he's counting on it. Only thing Jake doesn't do is lie to his niece because he knows if he does she will immediately call bullshit and blurt out the truth.

So she's allowed to say 'Jake' or 'Jakey' but he asks her not to call him 'uncle.'

The whole day goes flawlessly, and only like 35% of what he says is effected by dishonesty. He is away a lot for work. He does wish he got more time with, uh, the girl over there playing with your daughter. That girl's mom is absolutely wonderful and they used to live together, technically, a long time ago.

When his niece calls him 'Jakey' in front of you, it's pretty easy to brush off. He's right, there is that age where kids rebel that way, and you remember when your daughter threw her first "no, mother" at you in defiance.

He leaves with your cell number and a long, lingering hug.

Jake's on cloud nine, as is his niece, so he thinks he's gotten away with it, texting with you frequently until days later when he's already deployed with Clay and the team to the other side of the Earth.

Why would my kid be saying that you aren't Cheeky's dad??? She said you STOLE HER FOR THE DAY. Jake, that is your real daughter, right? This is a joke, yeah? Answer me! Did you lie to us?!

No matter what he says, it's over though. He doesn't know how it came up, and his niece did not call him her uncle. Instead, he finds out she mentioned "Jake's not my real father but my mom loves him" which is doubly terrible. You're convinced she's his step kid, and Jake was somehow cheating by talking to you. Admitting he lied but not that bad doesn't help.

All conversation ends when you tell him to lose your number.

How could he possibly fix this?

⬆️⬆️⬆️ how i imagine y'all are about to come at me ⬆️⬆️⬆️

[Main Masterlist; Fic Title Only Asks; Jake Jensen Masterlist]

[queerfables]

Taking away the glass?

Oh gosh I'm actually so keen to talk about this so thank you for the opening!

Context: Responding to akaitsukicat's artwork of Crowley and Aziraphale separated by a glass wall, I said that the reason we're all such wrecks over their kiss is because after 6000 years in canon and 33 years in real life, that kiss was "taking away the glass".

The glass is a metaphor that media scholar Henry Jenkins uses to explain the appeal of slash, originally published in 1993. Here, "slash" refers to queer re-interpretation of heterosexual media, including transformative works exploring those readings.

This is what Jenkins says about the glass:

When I try to explain slash to non-fans, I often reference that moment in Star Trek: The Wrath of Khan where Spock is dying and Kirk stands there, a wall of glass separating the two longtime buddies. Both of them are reaching out towards each other, their hands pressed hard against the glass, trying to establish physical contact. They both have so much they want to say and so little time to say it. Spock calls Kirk his friend, the fullest expression of their feelings anywhere in the series. Almost everyone who watches the scene feels the passion the two men share, the hunger for something more than what they are allowed. And, I tell my nonfan listeners, slash is what happens when you take away the glass. The glass, for me, is often more social than physical; the glass represents those aspects of traditional masculinity which prevent emotional expressiveness or physical intimacy between men, which block the possibility of true male friendship. Slash is what happens when you take away those barriers and imagine what a new kind of male friendship might look like. One of the most exciting things about slash is that it teaches us how to recognize the signs of emotional caring beneath all the masks by which traditional male culture seeks to repress or hide those feelings.

The vid I refer to, inspired by Jenkin's comments, is The Glass by thingswithwings. It's a beautiful vid, sad and hopeful and empowering, with a very moving commentary on fandom history. It was originally published in 2008, which is relevant to understanding the position it takes in the dialogue around queer relationships in media.

Here's thingswithwings' summary of the vid, as it appears on YouTube:

Henry Jenkins, speaking of the Spock death scene from Star Trek II: The Wrath of Khan, said, "slash is what happens when you take away the glass." It has been said, in response, that death also happens when you take away the glass. ie, if you took away the glass Kirk would die of radiation poisoning too; the barrier between desiring men cannot be removed on pain of death. Homosexuality, or just loving touch between two people of the same gender, is equivalent to death in this media narrative. One of the interesting things about slash is the way it takes away the glass, then puts it back, then takes it away, then puts it back, often pleasurably. I think this is both problematic and powerful. It is problematic because it reasserts the impossibility of the touch (it fetishizes oppression in a negative manner); it is powerful - and good - because it dwells on and thinks about and removes the glass (it fetishizes oppression in a transformative manner). One of the interesting things about mainstream media is that it continues to put the glass back up, no matter how hard we try to tear it down. Queer desiring touches have been, and remain, imaginable but impossible. TL;DR ALTERNATE SUMMARY: THERE SEEMS TO BE SOME KIND OF INVISIBLE BARRIER IDK WHAT IT MIGHT BE

In regards to Good Omens, it's relevant that this entire conversation about homosocial relationships in media takes place within the 29 year period between the publication of Good Omens the book and the adaptation of the story to screen. The vid was created 15 years ago - which is to say 18 years after the book was published and 11 years before season 1 was released - and it talks about realised queer desire in mainstream media as being so impossible that it is equivalent to death. That is the kind of resistance that queer representation in pop culture has been up against, these last three decades.

Crowley/Aziraphale, as depicted in the book, is such a classic example of slash. I've seen some people who read the book in a contemporary context saying they didn't necessarily pick up on any subtext between the characters, and I suspect this is a mark of cultural expectations. Firstly, because the cultural references that the intentional subtext relies on have become obscured over time - see Neil Gaiman's explanation of the "consenting cycle repairmen" line. But more importantly because the audience's frame of reference for unintentional subtext has shifted, too. What is unsayable and which silences are emotionally loaded has changed over time. Even if you are intentionally using a queer lens in your reading, you might not see subtext in the same places that someone would even 10 years ago.

For example, take this passage from the book:

On the whole, neither [Aziraphale] nor Crowley would have chosen each other's company, but they were both men, or at least men-shaped creatures, of the world, and the Arrangement had worked to their advantage all this time. Besides, you grew accustomed to the only other face that had been around more or less consistently for six millennia.

On it's face, this line suggests that the relationship between the two of them is a matter of convenience more than desire. Maybe that's the intended reading and maybe that's how it started or how they justify their association to themselves, but taken together with how deeply they know each other and how they are always each other's first thought in a crisis, suddenly "neither would have chosen the other's company" sounds like an extremely British way to say they care about each other far more than they were supposed to. Plus, this is Aziraphale's take on their relationship, and it plays rather beautifully against Crowley's much simpler expression of the exact same sentiment:

Aziraphale. The Enemy, of course. But an enemy for six thousand years now, which made him a sort of friend.

To go back to Henry Jenkin's wise words, what we're seeing here is Aziraphale thinking about Crowley through the glass - through the "aspects of traditional masculinity which prevent emotional expressiveness or physical intimacy between men". If you came up in slash fandom at a time when seeing queer relationships in canon was unthinkable, you probably find it easier to identify the gap between how Aziraphale thinks about his relationship with Crowley and how their relationship actually functions. That gap was where a lot of slash lived.

You might say that the book shows Crowley and Aziraphale watching each other through the glass, and season 1 is them pressing up against it. They're still prevented from showing the full depth of feeling between them, they still hunger for more than they're allowed, but they are reaching for it. We see the history of their relationship developing through the ages. The unsayable is still left unsaid, but we feel the weight of it in everything they do. They come so very close but they still can't cross that threshold.

And then there's season 2. Within the text, Crowley and Aziraphale are not just pressing against the glass, they're actively trying to dismantle it. They're searching for a door to the other side. They're inspecting for weak points where they could cut their way through. And then suddenly they're out of time and out of options and the glass is still between them, and there's nothing they can do.

As the audience, you feel that desperation. You feel that grief. And if you're someone who's been watching the glass go back up on every relationship you thought might stand a chance of tearing it down, it hits hard. You're longing vicariously with the characters, but you're longing for yourself too, to see queer desire made possible. To see queer touch made not just imaginable but real.

And then, with all hope lost, Crowley throws himself through the glass. It doesn't matter that it doesn't save them. They kiss and it changes everything. Queer desire is no longer up for debate. Queer touch is no longer impossible. They kiss and the glass shatters, entirely and irrevocably.

This is why it matters so much that they did kiss, even though the love between them was already undeniable. For thirty years, Crowley and Aziraphale were part of a media landscape that relentlessly reinforced the glass at every turn and flooded fatal radiation through any crack they couldn't fix. In a different context, that kiss would be less vital to affirming their relationship. But in the world we live in, with the specific history that this story has, I don't think anything else could have done what it did. The glass between these characters had been reinforced over decades, in a culture that made the barriers to open intimacy between men inescapable. Their kiss was what it took to break it.

And by shattering the glass, this story has fundamentally rewritten what is possible. It proves the rules preventing true affection between people of the same gender can be defied. Queer people are already becoming more visible in pop culture; we're no longer reliant on slash reimagining queer longing between heterosexual leads. But Crowley and Aziraphale's kiss is cathartic and vindicating in an entirely different way. It turns slash into intentional queerness. It takes a fetishisation of oppression vacillating between problematic and transformative, and finally stands up on the side of powerful, empowering transformation. It confronts the barriers that once rendered this desiring touch impossible, and breaks through them once and for all.

That's what taking away the glass means. That's what Good Omens did.

[moderninfatuation]

hello! :) feel free to ignore this ask if it doesn't suit you!

i'm wondering if you can write male!reader x ethan winters, where they are inside their home duringna tough storm, cuddling on the couch with the TV on. make it with extra fluff please! thank you, and have a nice day!

note: oh my god i love ethan. im gonna be honest: i debated making this blog ethan-centric simply because i think there isnt nearly enough x reader content featuring him :( thats THE man, THE guy and i wish he got as much attention as other characters from the series. (sorry for gushing, it will happen again)

the only issue with this is that it is mostly gender neutral except for maybe 2 instances - i hope that's alright, its definitely something i need to work on, because i didnt see many opportunities to push gendered writing in this one.

you have a nice day as well! im glad i can finally write, i need more weekends :')

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Movie Night

character: Ethan Winters

tags: sfw, male!reader, married, horror movies, sleepy, domestic, thunderstorm

word count: 1182

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The world was just beginning to fade into a hazy blur of warmth and background noise coming from the TV before the rumble of thunder outside your family home brutally snaps you back into your current time. 

You shift below the blanket you and your husband like to share to snuggle up closer to him, hand in hand with your arm pressing against his until each of you notice how warm the other is. He begins to dip his head until you can feel him resting against your shoulder, and his scarred, unoccupied hand begins to wander below the blanket until it finally rests on your thigh. “It’s not too scary, is it?” he whispers to you, certainly not referencing the storm roaring outside. The branches knocking against your window and the rustling of leaves rustling over your yard couldn’t bother Ethan less as long as he knows you’re home and holding onto his hand.

He seems more so interested in the cheap horror-flick the both of you chose for tonight’s movie night. Despite the questionable and outdated special effects, you can see his body do little twitches and sharp intakes of breath whenever an actor is jumpscared along with the audience, reaching for the popcorn bowl in his lap so he has something to hold except for you. While his eyes were glued to the screen with his knuckles resting against his lips in a subconscious effort to soothe himself, you couldn’t help but drift off a little. Your eyelids are heavy after a long day of work, and napping against your partner would’ve been a dream come true if it weren’t for the ongoing thunderstorm. Lightning strikes once more outside, close enough to be audible, and not long after you finally muster up the energy to respond with “No, it’s alright, love…”. Truth is, the both of you enjoy trashy movies, even more so if they’re meant to scare you but end up making you laugh instead. You’ve only been so quiet because you’re actively fighting the urge to fall asleep against Ethan, especially now that his head is on your shoulder. 

Right next to your ear, Ethan hums in response. “I don’t know about you, but… this movie isn’t it.” He begins to mumble, shuffling closer to you on the couch, if that is even possible. By now, there is a whole third of the couch unused. “I don’t know… I guess B-class acting lost its appeal.” He explains, huffing out a little laugh at his own comment. You respond with an affirmative hum of your own. Before you can react, his face is buried in the crook of your neck, his cold nose pressed against your skin. Another minor detail to keep you awake, just what you need.

His hands begin to wander again, bumps moving across the blanket where his hands glide until you finally feel one of his palms on your stomach, then both of them wrapped around your waist in a loose hug. The wind howls loud enough to be heard over the TV by now - good thing you have a DVD player. The both of you could’ve gone to bed right away tonight if you relied on streaming services; the internet bid its goodbyes an hour ago, not long after the rain started. You probably wouldn’t have noticed if it weren’t for Ethan’s curses coming from his home office. No emails, no text messages, and there haven’t been any calls either. It really is just the two of you, now that Ethan’s boss can’t nag him.

“I’m getting tired, handsome…” he finally admits, and you can feel a smile stretching his lips right against your skin. Here, he feels safest, and you do too. “I’m not sure if I can last much longer. You?” You only respond with another hum, shrugging as far as Ethan’s body allows you. “Alright.” he whispers in response. “Let’s just… try to finish the movie. If we can’t, we’ll continue tomorrow.” You could also just go to bed right away, but it is way too comfortable to stand up right now, and the both of you are well aware. It feels like Ethan only wants to finish the movie tonight to have an excuse to stay pressed against you, to spend time with you… not that you mind.

A scream comes from the TV’s speakers, which has been happily babbling by itself for the past few minutes. “Thank god, finally.” Ethan breathes out as both of your heads turn towards the screen, eyes still drowsy. “I knew it. I’ve been waiting for this fucker to get offed since the beginning of the movie… christ he was annoying.” He says, partially muffled by the blanket around you two as the annoying character in question gushes bright red on screen, spraying and splattering in ways only liters of fake blood can. “Not sure why this guy is a fan favorite. His decisions are nonsensical, and now that things get serious, he runs? Yeah, great. leave the group behind. Way to go, dumbass.” While you can’t help but find your spouse’s half-hearted complaints and sass endearing, you’re too tired to respond by now. You only smile in response, readjusting your arm so it's wrapped around Ethan now, your hand close to his hip. You adjust the blanket so it covers his legs properly before you close your eyes, letting the dialogue and gentle buzz from the TV together with the rain pattering against your window take you under. The last thing you notice is Ethan’s wedding ring gleaming in the light coming from the screen.

It doesn’t take long for him to catch onto it. He chuckles as the movie’s hero almost comically fails to escape in every possible way, and as he turns to see your reaction, he finds your eyes closed instead and your lips curved in a satisfied smile. He lowers the TV’s volume and puts the remote and empty popcorn bowl down on the couch table as quietly as he can before getting himself more comfortable. He kisses your forehead goodnight, his cold lips barely grazing your skin to avoid waking you before he slides lower on the couch, curled up against your side with his face almost completely hidden by the blanket draped over the two of you. 

The credits begin to roll as only your soft snores and the rain can be heard. It’s dark by now, and if it weren’t for the people listed in the credits and the occasional car driving through the mud outside, Ethan could swear you’re the only people in the world right now. It doesn’t take long for him to fall asleep, counting sheep replaced by the TV counting down the seconds in a little pop-up to know when it will shut itself off to save energy.

If it were up to him, he’d spend all day pressed up against his man like this, soaking up the heat emanating from his body and listening to his breathing slow down, overshadowed by the rain and Ethan’s own pulse in his ears.

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[wolfstarlibrarian]

Hi wolfstar librarian,

I am wondering what are your thoughts on an increasing number of wolfstar writers on ao3 using gen AI, without disclosing it.

There are a couple of new authors with really popular fics that are very likely using AI and it just makes me so sad.

I asked one of the authors about it (privately) and they just deleted their whole tumblr without saying a word. Their tumblr was made just to promote the fic and now they’re posting multiple long fics with the most popular tropes, to appeal to a mass audience, at the same time, there is just no way they’re writing it themselves. Someone even asked them, how do you have time to write so many words/fics? Well they don’t!!! It’s ai!!!! Their fic is getting lots of comments praising their work, I’ve seen edits made for this fic, and it’s just so unfair to both other authors and readers.

It just really frustrates me because there are so many brilliant authors in the fandom and now these people using ai are ruining it for everyone and destroying the credibility of the fandom.

What do you think we as readers should do??? I just can’t make peace with how unfair it is to everyone.

This. Keep doing this.

Keep pointing it out that you recognize they didn’t write it themselves.

Keep commenting on “their” fics. Respond to people’s comments making sure they know it’s AI and recommend something else to them.

Promote ACTUAL authors as much as you can and comment on their fics so they don’t lose motivation.

Quote the AI fics and gather people around to help you shame people for trying to trick you.

Brainstorm with friends. Maybe you all make or support a fanfic competition where you don’t allow AI works, and the theme is “shame on you” with the joke being AI “authors” should be ashamed. Idk. But definitely talk to people. Keep it a part of of the conversation so it doesn’t become so normalized we forget we should be offended.

Volunteer for AO3. And talk to them. Maybe they can add a check box for AI works (many social media accounts have this as an option), or maybe they can add an AI reporting feature.

TBH I don’t have a solution that I’m sure will work, but I love that you care.

And I think in this increasing digitally over saturated age, I’m finding myself more and more inclined to go back to the physical.

Fanfic started as printed out stories that friends would swap at cons. So starting printing YOUR OWN works (never ever ever print someone else’s without their explicit consent) and mail them to friends. Start a magazine (can be online too) where people can submit their written fics.

This post is getting long, but let me end with this: people see AI fanfic as a cheat code to popularity. Make it clear to them they will never escape the truth.