#doesn't even realize it could be taken super sexually

[sugurus-rightnipple]

ace with an oral fixation grr

his obsession with having something in his mouth at all times, chewing his fingernails, the string of his hat.. literally anything just to keep his mouth occupied.

[richeeduvie]

ok so i’m in a super deep angst hole and i wondered what would happen if baby jr or baby were to be kidnapped, like how would roman react or the whole family and like how would the reunion would be like

Okay, Baby Jr being kidnapped is kinda funny to me

been a hot minute since I wrote something a lil long for Roman and Baby, and of course it has to be angst to get me in the mood <3

I know it'd actually be so traumatic and sad when it comes to Roman and Baby's little girl because you know she'd be so scared. All she knows is her Mommy and Daddy and the world they made for themselves. Even if nothing's done to her.

But I remember seeing this siblingroyoc headcanon tiktok where they were kidnapped as a child but Logan didn't do anything about it so the kidnappers felt bad and sent them back. Like, the Succession fandom is filled with geniuses. Anyways, I feel like this is what would happen to Baby Jr in the sense that she's kidnapped by people who don't want to hurt her.

Maybe they realize that along the way, Baby Jr was the wrong choice? She's the baby of the guy who got the fuck out of Waystar and is now doing...nothing but being wealthy? Who knows, I just know that what makes it funny is that Baby Jr would eventually calm down and try to be nice to her kidnappers. She asks if they can play Encanto while Roman and Baby are just panicking.

Just imagine that, Roman about to kill himself while Baby Jr's out there having a good time with her kidnappingbabysitters.

It would happen when Baby Jr's at school. Out of the week, after a hesitant Roman allowed it, Baby Jr gets to go to kindergarten for three days. There's the weekend and then one special day saved for the family. But with all the events of wealthy life going on? Roman takes her out of school so much.

So much so that the school staff thinks the person signing her out of class is just one of the Roy family assistants. You'd think private schooling would have a lot more security.

Baby Jr's happy to get taken out of school by Mommy and Daddy, but she slows with her little legs when she sees it's this...person. She's never seen them before. She puts her thumb near her mouth.

"Daddy told me to come pick you up."

Now, she's learned about stranger danger. Just not in the sense the stranger could get into her school and pretend it's one of the many people whose existence benefit minor activities of the Roy family. She's a bit nervous, but okay. If Daddy said so.

"...Okay."

Okay. So they go. It takes the little girl to see another person waiting for them in the car. They talk, they look intense on the face. All scrunched lines.

Baby Jr wants her Mommy. She'll see her soon, but she wants her now.

"Don't be scared, sweetie. You'll just be with us for a little while."

"She still thinks were taking her to them."

"...What she thinks isn't going to change anything."

What gets Roman, in the all of all it, is how long it takes him to find out his daughter is missing.

He's picking her up, picking at his coat jacket. Baby's at home, making brownie bars. He thumps his hands on the office desk.

"Mr. Roy."

"Hi, Ms. school office lady. Here to pick up my kid."

Roman wants to flick her nose. Why the fuck is she staring at him like that? He'll feel bad that he does when him and Baby Jr past the office and waves her little, chubby hand like she always does.

"I know. School's done in ten minutes, but my wife has brownies that are best when they're fresh, which - can somehow be insanely sexual? But yeah...sorry to be a dickfuck and pick her up but I sorta need her now."

"...But you checked your daughter out at eleven."

Roman doesn't blink.

"No. I didn't."

"Not you. I'm sorry, not you - but your assistant. One of them came in and signed her out."

Roman scratches his neck with his middle finger. It digs in at the end, a sharp pain against the way blood rushes through his ears. He blinks fast.

"Yeah...no, I didn't send any fucking...assistant you're saying? No, no one would've came to pick up my daughter but me today."

"Did your wife send anyone to pick he-"

"She's the one at home, baking. Like I told you a minute ago, I would tell her that I'm leaving to pick up our daughter. Which...I'm here to do so did you make a mistake? Someone pick up their own fucking kid and not mines and it's just her name in the system or whatever?"

The office lady watches Roman's finger shake, tapping quickly on the counter, like he's pressing a key over and over and over again. She swallows.

"Sh-she left. She was sent to the office and she went with him."

The tapping stops.

"...Isn't there a list?"

"A list?"

"A list of people who parents put down as people that can pick their child up. Only those people, which...you're Ms. school Office lady so I'm hoping you fucking know about the list. Ours has...has - we have Connor Roy, Frank Vernon, Shiv Roy. Her son is in the building right now. Unless you're telling me you let him walk the fuck out with a stranger? Right? Is that what you're telling me?"

"...I'm...I'm new. It's only my third day."

Roman stares. The office lady watches his chest begin to rise and deepen.

He closes his eyes.

"Did you say eleven?"

"Yes, Mr. Roy. I am so-it's most likely-"

"It's two. It's going to be two."

"Mr. Roy....Mr. Roy-"

The room and it's walls watches the way Roman pressing the heels of his palm into his eyes, stepping back and out into the hall.

"Oh, fuck."

The walls hear this high, cracking pain in his voice. Something panicked with angry coating his throat. Roman bends at his knees to the floor.

"God. Fuck, fuck - fuck! Oh, God. God. You-"

He gets up suddenly, every line twisted in his face with his hair messy. He jabs a finger to the office lady.

"Call fucking 911! You fucking bitch-you're-you're nothing! Call fucking 911!"

It's the sounds of shuffles and buttons, then ringing. Then cursing.

The brownies are done just in time when there's ringing on Baby's end.

"Roman?"

"You need to come down here. You need to-I um...I'm sorry. I don't fucking know. I don't fucking know but you need to come down here and...fuck."

It's a cracking, soft cry. Baby can imagine Roman rubbing his eyes, or the bridge of his nose.

"What happened? Is she okay? Are you okay?"

Roman and her don't know that he feels like a child caught in the act of something bad. He needs to tell her something. He has to tell her something's wrong, and being the barer feels like a crime. It feels like he's going to kill her, and Roman doesn't think he's ever wanted to hurt her in his life.

"Someone fucking took her. They don't know who. The uh, the brainless bitch who gets fed off the tuition money said that it was someone who said they were one of our assistants."

Baby Jr turns to the cat paw oven mitts she got for Baby Jr. She looks to the tile floor.

"No. No."

She says it like saying no will change things. It's simple.

"Can you come down here, please? Please? I'm sorry, I should've picked her up earlier or...or shot the office staff in the head."

"When did h-he he...when did...was it a he?"

"Apparently. But I need that to not...not matter. Please, come down here."

It's all a plea where Baby doesn't know if Roman's on the verge of crying or he's just finished crying.

"I need that to not matter to you. But when? Are you asking when?"

Baby takes a breath that shakes with her body. She holds her palm against her stomach. If she presses in, she can feel her c-section scar.

Tears come as quickly as the panic.

"Roman."

"It's been two hours since they took her."

Baby's head tilts up, face twisting and quivering and her spine curves. She cries harshly.

Roman closes his eyes at the sound. He lowers his head.

"Can you come down? Please, I've sent someone to get you but fuck that if you just wanna come down here by yourself. But please, come down. Please."

It's an long, almost-gentle begging from Roman. He needs her body, he needs her for any sort of reality. He needs to cling onto her and he can't listen to her cry without wanting to touch her, bring her down. But he fucking can't right now because she's there and he's here and their daughter is gone.

Not gone. He'll do a lot of things if she's gone.

It's a big news story even before Baby manages to make it down to the school. It's a Waystar kid kidnapped midday. It's press, parents, people all over. It's a sea she has to cross. She can't cross it without notice, not when she's the mother.

But the flashes and callings fog out at the right of Roman. He's pale and brightly red all at once.

Baby Jr would giggle.

Her feet pick up. His don't even when he sees her. He knows he'll fall into the ground and he won't be able to get back up. But his face against her chest and his arms wrap like suffocation around his crying wife. Hers do too around his.

"Shiv's called about five times. And Karolina, for some reason, as if our daughter's on the company deed. I'm not even on anything anymo-"

"Did they find anything yet?"

Roman can't avoid that question because he's been asking it every thirty seconds. He gets more into a pale rage when the answer doesn't change.

"No. No, because they can't fucking do anything right. They can't find her. They can't-"

"Roman."

Baby pulls his hand away from his shoulder across. He was digging. She thinks he's colored a bit of his shirt red. She sees his coat on the steps of the school.

"Can we do something? Like fucking-they keep telling me I can't do anything and I get the feeling like I could rip their jaw apart but she wouldn't want me to do that."

Baby looks at the small of Roman's body, but the bigness of his rage and panic. It the fidgeting and shifting. For her, it's tears and questions where she can't afford kindness. As a mother, she can't afford cordialness to anyone at the moment.

"Mr. Roy, we got the security footage of them leaving the building. And...are you Mrs. Roy?"

Baby nods. The officer pulls out a phone, makes them watch the footage of a man dressed casually hold their daughter's hand.

Baby breathes so unevenly watching it, she wouldn't give anything to that man in the grained video if she could afford it. Roman keeps his mouth covered by his knuckles.

"Do you recognize this man at all?"

"No. I don't. Roman?" They both wait for Roman. His vein pops out and pumps. Pulses. His brow is raised under it. It's all harsh, it's nerves and it makes Baby even more nervous. She didn't know that was possible. "Roman?"

"Sir-"

He presses play on the video again. It's a short feature, ten seconds of bare information but Roman winds it out to forty seconds.

He presses pause.

"Roman."

It's a soft scolding as Baby licks and bites her lips, as Roman slaps the phone to the ground. He walks away, hands grabbing at the back of his head to pull at his hair.

"Roman, not this. We don't have to talk about everything, about how this happened, but we need to listen to them - we need to think about what's happened? Maybe? To figure out any information?"

She waits half as long in his silence.

"Rom-"

"Do you think she's asking for us right now?"

Baby closes her eyes. "Don't think of these things, baby. It's not going to help-"

She thought of every question she could on the ride here. Roman turns to her but looks to the ground.

"She's asking for us and wondering why we're not there? Our daughter's out there with people who will be dead come time and she's wondering why Daddy hasn't come to get her? Because I don't mean to think that highly of myself as a father but she wants her Dad to come save her and she doesn't know why he can't."

"She knows we're looking for her, Roman."

"She's five. She knows Mommy and Daddy, she doesn't know that things can come in between Mommy and Daddy. She's wondering where we are, isn't she?"

"Roman-"

"Why aren't we there?"

The way he asks the question, it sounds like years ago.

Baby cries silently, into Roman's shoulder when she tries to comfort him. It's this way until a phone rings.

"Mr. Roy. Mrs. Roy. The kidnappers have called, we have them on the phone. They've managed to get the chief's office personal number. With the information they've given, it appears to be a standard ransom case. They have said your daughter is unharmed-"

Roman's dragging Baby, both in the aftermath of their tears to the Chief officer.

"Give me the phone."

"Mr. Roy-"

"Give me the phone."

"Mr.Roy-"

And like a child, Roman snatches the phone out of their hand. It would be humorous if not for the situation. Baby Jr would've giggled.

"...Hello?"

How quickly Roman's hands find the need to pinch and peel at the sound of their voice would be funny too. His nose flares.

"I'm going to take the skin off your feet. Where is my daughter?"

"...She's fine. I said she's unharmed. This is not a political act, this is not a personal one against Waystar or the Roy family, although you can say we picked you due to your politics and what Waystar has done, but this is where we ask for ten million dollars in exchange for your daughter's safety."

Roman sniffs.

"Okay. I'll paypal it to you. Let me speak to her, though."

Baby's more than willing to give up anything for their daughter. She never expected anything less than Roman giving up ten million like it's nothing. Everything is nothing in the face of their baby.

"...Reall-"

"Put her on the fucking phone."

"...Alright."

There's shuffling. Roman and Baby wait as they barely blink.

"Daddy?"

Roman exhales something heavy. It's almost a laugh, but Baby cries fully again. Her forehead presses into the side of his head. Their breathing is unevenly, but somehow aligned with the other's lungs.

"Are you okay? This is Daddy. Daddy's sorry, honey. Did they hurt you?"

"No. We're watching Coco. I was super fear. It was crazy! Cause I didn't know anyone here, but they like Coco like I like coco. And they have Candyland! So it's okay. It is almost done. Where is Mommy?"

"I'm here, baby."

"Hi, Mommy."

It's so sweet and soft. Baby Jr hums.

"Daddy's sorry. We're-" Roman chokes on his own spit. "We'll be with you soon."

"Why are you sorry, Daddy? I go now, so you can say later."

Roman's stomach eats itself at the idea of her going. There's ten to eighty thoughts of how these people could be lying, how this could be the last time he hears her. It could be false, fake. He twitches. They could be doing everything his nightmares are made of. The things that are why he keeps her and Baby to himself.

This could be something that kills him. It drinks his blood and cuts off the air to his head and muscles.

But trusting these fuckers is believing she'll be in his arms soon, to never leave the penthouse or Mommy and Daddy. So, Roman lets her off the phone.

"We will text you the instructions on how we want the money delivered to us."

"Yeah, fuck you. Fucking bitch. You're so fucking ugly too. An ugly little nothing. You go ahead and do that."

Roman shoves the phone into the officers chest.

"Just, do whatever you want with my bank account."

It's a bit of time in trying to get ten million suddenly ready to deliver, but it's done. They wait. Roman can stop twitching and Baby can't stop wringing her hands. They both think of Baby Jr's room. They don't know the other thinks of the same thing.

"They've dropped her off at Waymond park."

They're at Waymond park way too quickly for the ride there to have been legally possible.

"Go fucking faster! Jesus fuck."

Baby wishes she could say that's not what she wanted to say to the driver.

Car doors slam when they see the little girl in the coat they made her wear to school on the swings. Always a bit too warm, that's how Roman likes it.

Baby Jr kicks her little legs. She lifts her head when she hears her named yelled out. She smiles brightly. Those little legs don't run sharply, and they can't catch her when Roman and Baby engulf her.

But they can catch her. They'll always be there to catch her.

Baby Jr giggles at how funny her parents are. They're hugging her like it's a competition to see who can hug the tightest and longest. So, she tries to join in. But she won't win.

Roman kisses her head as tears wet her hair, Baby's tears wet his. He kisses her. They kiss each other.

"I'm going to ask Kendall if we can borrow Colin."

Baby's not against that, not when she's a mother and her daughter's back in her arms.

[vespaer77]

I'd like to tell you a story...

... about my first Tav, Shayla Moonsong.

She is a Zariel tiefling, and a College of Lore Bard, and while she wasn't my first Tav, she was the first one to finish the game. I had romanced Lae'zel, Shadowheart, and Astarion in early access, so I focused on her because I was anxious to try a new romance, Halsin. However, because she was created just after full release, her save file was horrifically bugged. I got the cut scenes for Halsin that allowed me to progress his companion quest and cure Moonhaven of the shadow curse, but after that I could get no further dialogue from him at all, even in camp. I was playing with a party limit mod by the time he joined my party, so I never needed to worry about dismissing him from my party, but I did occasionally have difficulty with him following the party. I had to run around controlling him a lot. The only scene I ever got with him once he joined me was specifically his sex scene, after I did the love test at the circus in Act 3. I knew literally nothing about him, lol, so I had to google the answers.

But that was the thing. I knew… nothing about this guy. He was just some hot elf my bard boned, I had zero investment in him other than that. And it became a head canon for me about her - she was a typical bard, slutting her way to the Gate. She slept with the Emperor, she had a foursome with the drow twins and Halsin, and she absolutely played Haarlep's game to get his pass code. And while I'd wished, at the time, I could have had the additional enrichment of a poignant, heartfelt romance, I did enjoy exploring a character that was more free with her sexuality. As a result, though, I'd ended up "saving myself" for Halsin, because I knew his romance would (or in my case should but didn't) open up very late in the game. And I'd shot down all of the other companions fairly quickly.

Including Gale.

Especially Gale.

He was still bugged at the time, and his… overly amorous nature, lol, was widely known to anyone who'd spent more than ten minutes on the internet. So I ignored a lot of opportunities to know him better. And at the time, he was honestly my least favorite character. Particularly because I truly didn't enjoy him in early access. I genuinely found him offputting and way too over the top, and subsequently much of his narrative flew straight over my head.

Like a Boeing 777.

But let's be honest. Because of the nature of his story, and the way he seems to compartmentalize his trauma as devotion, and because of the mask of charm and confidence he wears to convince your character of his usefulness, and the way he tempers his emotions so he doesn't upset the orb, all of these things… the complexity of his narrative is super duper subtle. Or at least to me it was. I was the complete dumb dumb that didn't pick it up from context like we were supposed to.

Until I played my bard, Shayla. The first one to get through Act 3.

I had saved the culmination of Gale's quest in Sorcerous Sundries til nearly the end. Just before all the stuff with the foundry and Gortash. At the time, he was still a checklist item, a box to mark off on my road to the final boss.

So I went into it feeling like this man was probably pretty fed up with me, lol. And then he read the Annals of Karsus and I realized right then just how much I'd taken this character for granted. Because everything about him, his entire personality, shifted right there, and he became… someone else. And everyone else in my party noticed it too. The choice of responses I was given was crafted in a way that made me feel like the writers very much wanted me to notice a change had taken place within Gale. And then I picked a response that was honestly a touch unkind. I don't remember what I said to him, but…

He yelled at me.

"She left me to die!" he said. I remember that part.

And when the camera panned back to me and the party, we were all wide eyed and reared away from him in shock and disbelief that this charming, confident, gregarious, and benign creature was suddenly so… dark. And it was at that moment that a light switch was flipped. The missing puzzle piece was found and snapped into place. Suddenly I understood everything I'd missed up to that point, and it was more than just an "ah hah!" moment. It was an, "Oh my god…" moment. He hadn't become someone else.

We were seeing who he truly was for the first time.

His mask had slipped. Cracked beneath strain. He'd been pushed to a breaking point.

Naturally, because he's Gale, he recovered quickly. But it was too late. I saw him. And then two things happened. I fell in love with him. Instantly. But then I also realized the game was almost over. His romance opportunity had come and gone, there wouldn't be a "confess your love at the last minute" option. And of course his fate at the end of the game was not so kind to my bard either.

I've had big feelings about it ever since.

And then the Hugs mod came out, which only served to further poke my great big ouchy feelings.

I've lived in head canon land for a while now when it comes to Shayla Moonsong. In my head canon, he did end up taking her advice, he did pick an outcome that didn't involve using the Crown of Karsus or the Karsite Orb, and in no way did he become a pulverized cloud of stardust. He ended the game living peacefully in Waterdeep, giving Tara belly rubs and ushering in the next generation of wizards without grooming them for a lifetime of suffering.

But that leaves Shayla herself and her big, unresolved feelings. Feelings that were never processed or acknowledged, as the time was never right between her relationship status with Halsin and the fate of the world resting on her shoulders.

So, what is a bard to do when she falls in love, but it's too late?

Nothing small, that's for sure. And it will probably involve singing.

(I'm planning on maybe two to three chapters for this story, in which she very much makes things worse before they get better, lol. She's still learning. But it's definitely gonna end with some light cunnilingus and good, heavy railing either on a kitchen counter or against a bookshelf. I haven't decided yet. I do hope, if you do decide to read this humble beginning, that you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. And also please excuse my ill attempts at self-effacing meta humor.)

Pairing: Gale / named fem!Tav bard Rating: Smut is imminent (once we get through the foreplay… er, mutual pining) Word count: 4790

Read the story HERE or under the cut

Chapter One: The Wizard, The Real One

"Is there a loan shark in the audience or something?" Jory asked.

"Hmm?" Nelsyn replied, but she didn't look up from her lines. He supposed that was fair. She was busy letting Sara fix the adhesive on the curly teal wig that sat between her horns, and Jory knew as well as anyone on cast that nothing good came from troubling the crew. He let his heavy bear pelt slip from his shoulders as he sat down in the empty chair next to her.

"She's been there all night," he told his friend as he nodded toward the entryway to stage right. "Boss lady. We've been touring this show for months. We could all do it in our sleep, she knows that. Never seen her hover like this."

And there was no reason for it. "The Fall of the Absolute" was a roaring success. The production was Shayla Moonsong's crowning achievement, a media darling, and the current obsession of a whole continent. She'd catalogued volumes of stellar, five-star reviews thus far, and was selling out box offices everywhere she went. The show was the hottest new thing since "Volo's Guide to Sex in the Elemental Planes."

But it wasn't her biggest accomplishment. It wasn't what she was truly known for.

She was the Hero of Baldur's Gate.

She faced the illithid Netherbrain herself, and won.

And the tale they were telling in front of all those people was her story.

Heavens knew the winsome bard had faced far greater perils than watching a chapter of her life play out on a stage.

And yet there she stood, on this most unremarkable of nights, leaning just inside the door frame where she could observe without obstructing. Where she could scan the audience like a scrying eye, searching for… something. Normally she'd be flitting about like a cloud of gnats directing the cast and crew, answering questions, giving orders, helping the caterer, filling water jugs, finding toilet paper, running errands, meeting VIPs. Trying not to go crazy. But not tonight. Tonight she stood very still, chewing her thumbnail and unconsciously flicking the tip of her tail over and over, hard to the left.

And Jory remembered what Nelsyn had said about what it meant when tieflings flicked their tail to the left.

She was clearly nervous about something.

"Well, we're about to do the big emotional number," Nelsyn finally told him, closing the cover of her script while Sara gave her wig a good yank to test the glue. "It's the one all the teenage girls are sobbing over their sketch pads for right now."

She stopped to take a sip of water when Sara bent to pick up her cosmetics case. The girl made a gesture to Jory to give up his seat, and he tripped over his own feet unfolding himself to stand up. Once again he was reminded why he was cast as the big druid, Halsin. Shayla had told him once that while he wasn't quite as tall as the real thing… he was close. He wondered how easily the boss lady's former lover would have fit into that chair.

"This is our first time in Waterdeep," Nelsyn continued, trying her best not to move her lips while Sara applied a fresh coat of pink stain. "She probably just wants to see how it gets received. She doesn't really get to just sit out there and watch, you know?"

"Yeah."

"Could be it," Sara told them both, bunching her eyebrows and concentrating on keeping her hand steady. "Part of it, anyway. That is her favorite character out there, singing his heart out about the bomb in his chest."

"Her favorite character? The wizard?"

"Someone else got a bomb?"

"Please. Everyone knows I'm her favorite character."

"Listen," she replied as she wiped the applicator clean with a kerchief, "you're a good looking kid, and no one hates watching you take your clothes off out there." Nelsyn snorted, but they both ignored her. "A healthy percentage of ticket sales is probably yours, no one's arguing that. But that's not enough for you to game the win."

"Game the w- what?" Jory laughed, his oiled obliques glistening as he pulled the bear pelt back over his shoulders. "Look, I'm not trying to make it a competition or anything, okay? You brought it up. But I literally play an archdruid who carves ducks, sings to squirrels, and adopts orphans. Plus? He looks like this." He swept his hands grandly over his abdomen, flexing muscles most people had only seen in paintings or medical textbooks. "And did I mention he's also her boyfriend?"

"Her ex-boyfriend," Sara corrected him, pointing at Nelsyn as she spoke. "Have you even listened to the song she's getting ready to sing? You know. The one about love? And sacrifice?" She shifted her weight as an intern sidled past her to tidy the table, refill their drinks, and bag up the trash. "And don't tell me you haven't looked at Erik with both of your eyeballs. We've all seen him. The man has eyelashes as long as your forearm. And the biggest, saddest, wettest brown eyes on the face of this planet. He's like a baby cow, okay? I'm just saying." She stood to let the intern past her again, and bent to drag her cosmetics case out of the way. "This is the man she cast to play the lead in the big romantic climax of the whole show. When the main character realizes she's in love and it's too late. She's managed to capture," she pinched her fingers in front of her face, "the very essence of what it means to have sad children mooning over this show for years to come, okay? The baby cow is a cash cow. And he is clearly her favorite character."

"I think the vampire is her favorite character," the intern said, unprompted, as she reached to help Nelsyn out of her seat. "He's everyone's favorite character."

"You're all wrong," Nelsyn told them as she sloughed her way out of her robe with great theatrical flair. The intern caught it before it hit the floor, just as she'd done so many times before. Nelsyn stood with her hands on her hips and a gallant curve to her tail, casting her eyes toward the rafters and beaming a heavily pink-stained smile, resplendent in her artificially distressed leather armor blotted with thick fake blood.

"I'm her favorite character," she said, glowing with certainty. "And it should be obvious. I'm her! Now, stand back and watch while I go make a bunch of little girls cry!" And with that, she grinned devilishly and pranced toward the stage.

But once she was gone, the intern leaned forward and beckoned. Jory found himself instinctually drawn to listen.

"Well, you wanna know what I heard?" she whispered, and her eyes landed on Shayla for only just a moment. Jory nodded out of reflex. "I heard a rumor that someone in the orchestra pit overheard the boss lady telling someone in the box office that there was going to be a special guest tonight."

"What. Like, family?" Jory asked. "I thought she was an orphan."

"Could be anyone," Sara answered him from where she stood, combing through a wig hanging on the wall. "Philanthropist, politician. Who knows.

"Or," the intern hissed, leaning in even closer, "it could be one of them."

"One of who?"

"You know. Them. Thems what was with her, when all this went down."

"Like… like one of the actual…?"

"Don't you two have anything better to do than -"

"Wait. We're in Waterdeep," Jory breathed. He snatched up Nelsyn's script and started thumbing through it, fanning the pages and blowing a strand of hair across his nose. "Isn't… isn't the wizard…?"

Sara dropped her comb to her side and opened her mouth, but stopped and blinked at him instead. A thoughtful look crept across her face. She nodded her head in defeat.

"The wizard's from Waterdeep."

Then, as one, they all turned to look at Shayla where she stood at stage right, still as a statue.

And the music began to swell. The strings stirred the air with sounds as soft and sweet as sunset. The woodwinds sang a shrill crescendo as Erik began to make his famous climb.

And Nelsyn began to sing her famous song.

Before she disappeared beyond the narrow view from stage right, Jory watched her as she raised her arm to reach for him.

The wizard.

And her voice rang out so high and so clear, so heavy with every loss that Shayla Moonsong had ever suffered, with every plea that ever twisted her heart in bitter knots. With every word that ever fell from the mighty pen of their beloved playwright.

Who stood now with her hand at her throat. It bobbed once when she swallowed. Her lips parted and she drew a breath, and a hush fell over the crowd. She settled in to listen with the rest of them.

And her tail flicked once more to the left.

I know I've been unkind to you And I've pushed you way too far And I know in ignorance I forced you To reveal the man you are And I know I've left you with nothing to lose And even less to gain And though I know you owe me nothing Please don't give in to pain

Erik's silhouette was emblazoned across the long, velvet curtain hanging behind the hideously decorated staircase he was climbing. His movements were eery and real, despite their paltry attempts to pantomime a grisly memory that none of them had ever lived. Each step was measured and dreamlike and perfect, like a person caught in a trance or a dead man called home to his rest by a spectral light.

Or in this case, a massive papier mache facsimile of a netherbrain hung from a scaffold over the stage.

Please, Please don't do this I'm begging you not to go Please, Please don't do this There's something you need to know What can I do to make you wait Convince a goddess to change your fate Please tell me that it's not too late There's something I didn't say…

"It can't be him, though. Can it?" Jory asked. "Didn't he, like," he pointed a finger toward the stage, "explode?"

"Oh, no. It's just a story, mate," came a voice from behind them. It was Velanthyr, the elf who played Astarion. They rounded the table and perched themself on the corner, placing their white wig beside them as they took a bite from an apple. "She's embellished tons of stuff. For emotional impact. They all do it."

I should have loved you since I met you I should have loved you all along

"That bard she played? In the first act?"

"Yeah?"

"She ain't really dead either."

"Seriously?"

I should have told you that I love you Instead of hiding behind a song

"My cousin met her. Said he saw her play someplace they had dinner."

"No shit?"

"It's true. She teaches music in Baldur's Gate."

Is there nothing left that I can do But fall to my knees and pray

"So what's with her, anyway?" Velanthyr asked, pointing their apple at Shayla while they wiped the juice from their lips with their other hand.

The tip of her tail flicked again, and slowly she wrapped her arms around her middle.

To any god or any devil Who'd keep you from walking away

"She's been acting weird all night," they said.

"S'what we were just talking about."

Please, Please don't do this! Turn around! This isn't right!

"We think the wizard might be out there," the intern told them. "The real one."

"Oh no," the elf laughed.

Please, Please don't do this! Please, I'm begging you to fight!

"Hope he has a sense of humor. It's about to get weird!"

"Weird?!" Sara growled at them, flinging her comb about.

Forget your fickle god's desire I'd cross the oceans, I'd walk through fire I'd conquer all the Hells entire For you And yes, I know you're tired

"The man is getting ready to watch himself die! And I'm sure I don't need to remind you his death is self-inflicted! If there's a chance that any of this is real? That the trauma this man survived is on display? You all need to show a little respect." She shook her head and turned back to her wig. "Shut up and let her listen."

Sara's words may have stung him, but Jory knew she was right. So he obeyed her, and he listened. And for the first time he truly heard the fragile warble of desperate heartache that Nelsyn had worked so hard to craft through her voice.

Come back to me and take your rest Indulge one overdue caress I'll steal the sorrow from your chest And confess, I will confess

But he didn't just uncover a new appreciation for his friend and her level of skill. There was more to it than that. There was a depth to this scene that he'd been missing before now.

There was a meaning. One that wasn't meant for the whole world.

It was only meant for one man.

He could sense it in the vibrant tension bound between Shayla Moonsong's shoulder blades.

And then Nelsyn grew quiet. Everything got quiet. The music made a subtle shift to something low and dulcet, but tense, like a string pulled too tight without snapping. Jory found his feet had led him to stand at Shayla's shoulder. He could hear her breathing through her teeth and he felt compelled to reach out and take her hand.

She took hold of it like a lifeline.

You're everything to me and more You're all that I've been fighting for You're more than just an end to war…

Nelsyn paused after that last note. It was important to the narrative, it was the whole point behind the wizard's story. But her longing would go deliciously unrequited, and would inspire a veritable deluge of creativity from fandom communities everywhere.

Shayla squeezed Jory's hand, squeezed her eyelids firmly shut. She held her breath and Jory could see Erik had reached the top of the rise. There he stood, a straight, unyielding figure gazing off into the liminal distance, resolute.

And he would never turn around.

It wouldn't be long. Any moment.

Nelsyn sang her penultimate line.

And I would give my life for yours…

She held the word so long it nearly sank into Jory's skin. It sent a wave goosebumps to crest over every inch of his body. The orchestra wove their way through their final, sweeping refrain, and the conductor brought them to a close on a plaintive harmony between a flute and an oboe.

And then the light collapsed.

It shrank to a small, pale circle that drew its stark and shining focus on a razor-slim shadow cast against the curtain.

In the shape of a dagger.

Erik lifted it high and turned its point toward his heart.

"Gods preserve me," Shayla mumbled to herself. It was the only sound Jory could hear aside from the sniffs and sniffles of the audience. Collectively they teetered at the edges of their seats, enthralled by a beautiful, mournful man who was counting the final seconds of his life with undaunted stoicism and courage.

Nelsyn could've whispered her final line if she wanted to, but instead it burst from her as a scream.

"Don't do this!!!"

Jory felt it thrum like a shockwave within his own chest, and beside him Shayla flinched. She squeezed his hand even harder.

"Just tell me when it's over," she said to him. And then suddenly there was a flurry of activity.

He took a step back and yanked her away from the door when a small flock of technicians flew in to crowd the space they left behind.

Up high, far in the corner, Jory saw the dagger move against the curtain. And all of the good people of Waterdeep gasped when they watched the blade meet its mark.

"Fire in the hole," a technician murmured beside him, and the spotlight on the curtain went black.

Then a pair of spells were cast that bathed the audience in a blinding aurora. It blazed with ribbons of vivid blues and purples and greens, speckled with myriad glittering white stars.

And an arrow of roaring thunder was launched far overhead. It detonated with such a resounding boom that it shook everything, even the floor boards beneath Jory's feet. It rattled seats and drinking vessels, it toppled music stands, and it made Erik's staircase sway alarmingly as it was wheeled backstage, with him still riding precariously at its top.

Shayla Moonsong's face fell into her hands.

"Go on," Erik sang as he danced his way down the stairs. "Tell me how devastating I was. Don't hold back. Tell me everything."

"You were spectacular, my love!" Velanthyr assured him as they ran to greet him, cradling his face in their hands and kissing him sweetly. "You always are."

"Were they weeping?" he asked his lover, nuzzling their face with his own. "The lights are so bright, I can never see."

"They were drowning in their tears, darling. Drowning."

"Is everything alright?" Sara asked as she approached on her tiptoes, reaching for Shayla's arm. Velanthyr's wig drooped at her side, forgotten. "What can I do?"

"I can't even look," Shayla whimpered through the palms that smothered her face.

"Oh honey," Sara cooed as she pulled the woman closer. And in a blessed act of mercy, she asked the question that no one wanted to ask, but someone needed to. Long before now, before this critical point had been breached.

"He's out there, isn't he?"

"I think I've made a huge mistake." Shayla slid her fingertips down to press against her lips, unable to form any other words. She could only shake her head, her eyes as wide as dinner plates.

"Do you want us to look? See if we can see him?"

"I don't think I wanna know."

"Where is he seated?"

"E6."

"Oh." Sara briefly grimaced at Jory, but didn't stop rubbing circles across Shayla's back. "Front and center. Of course."

"Yep." The way her lips popped at the end of the word only served to emphasize how mortified she was. "Wouldn't want him to miss anything."

"Well, of course not. He's your guest," Sara replied, jerking her chin in a way that suggested Jory had been volunteered for reconnaissance.

"Oh gods!" Shayla raked her claws past her horns to twist them into her hair. "I even told him he could invite his mother!"

"Well that's a perfectly reasonable thing to do, one would think."

Jory understood his assignment. He sauntered away but paused at the door frame. The show wasn't over yet. When the technicians finished collecting their gear, they scrambled off to safely stow their rockets and retrieve the set pieces for the final scenes. They were dragging the staircase away from the main thoroughfare when Corinne, the woman who played the narrator, whipped past them.

"Coming through," she chimed, racing out to center stage, taking her place before the curtains could rise once more. Her final soliloquy would lead them into the epilogue, and would give Jory the opportunity he needed to cast his eyes past the orchestra pit and across the section of seats that lie beyond.

Front and center.

He would only have a minute or two. Sara would need to replace Velanthyr's wig. Erik needed a drink and Nelsyn's makeup needed a touch up. Very soon they would be on stage, the lights burning holes through their retinas, leaving them blinded and oblivious to all but each other and the saga they would spin to its end. He reached up to buckle the clasp on the bear pelt that draped across his shoulders.

For now, it was the narrator's turn. But he was ready. And then the curtains rose.

He smashed his face against the door frame like a cat burglar. A shaft of light swung down upon the stage illuminating Corinne at its center, and Jory peered out into the darkness it left in its wake. He squinted until he found the end of the section behind the orchestra pit, and he started counting backwards from there.

But seat E6 was empty.

Certain he'd made a mistake, he counted back again to double check, to be extra sure.

But he was right the first time.

"It's empty," he muttered out of the corner of his mouth.

"What?" Shayla cried as she spun to face him.

"Yeah," he told her. "I counted twice to make sure I had the right seat, but no one's in it."

"Oh gods." She began to pace, wringing her hands. "What about the one next to it?"

"Which side?"

"Just tell me if you see an older woman."

"Umm, okay." At first he wasn't certain. There was a child on the right side, but on the left was a person who'd stood up, and was bent with their back toward him, like they were reaching for something. "I think… maybe. Yeah. I think so. It looks like she's getting up. She's picking up a bag or something. Is that a cat?"

"Tara?"

"Who brings a cat to a -"

"She's not a cat. She's a tressym."

"What the hell is a tress- holy shit, it's got wings! It just flew over - oh! Oh, I think I see him!"

"Where!"

The tressym sailed through the air to float beside a tall, slender man who was moving quickly up the aisle toward the exit. He wasn't running, out of proper respect for social decorum, but he had the energy of a man who wished he was. His shoulders were hitched up near his ears and he was stifling his mouth with the back of one hand.

And a shiver ran down Jory's spine.

This was the guy. The wizard. The real one.

Gale Dekarios, of Waterdeep.

In the flesh. Right there.

From what little Jory could see, the play had done him justice. He was a very handsome man, lithe and lean, long-legged with a powerful stride, and every bit as comely as Erik had depicted him to be.

Yet it was hard to imagine, through simple sight alone, that this was a man who had once been the Chosen of a god. Or that this was a man who had once vanquished the avatar of Death itself. A man who had put an end to the Cult of the Absolute.

A man who had once made his own decision about whether or not to plunge a dagger into his heart.

But it was easy to see why Shayla would want to stop him. This man clearly meant something to her.

He didn't know what providence deemed it necessary for him to ask. It certainly wasn't any of his business. But the question tumbled out of his mouth, unbidden. Perhaps the gods themselves just wanted to hear someone finally say it out loud.

"Does he know how you feel about him?"

Shayla slumped and let her hands fall limp to her sides. She pulled her lip into her mouth, and her eyes swam with visions of regret. "No," she whispered to him. "It was never the right time."

Oh, how irony could be so cruel.

"You should go after him, then," he told her. "Go quick. If you hurry, you can catch him before he gets to the front door."

"Shit!" she snarled and for a moment, Jory was afraid she'd scurry across the stage in the middle of Corinne's long and emotional speech. There was a wild streak in him that almost hoped she would. But instead, she bolted through the loading bay doors and flung herself outside, presumably to tear down the alley between the theater and the wine cellar to run around the building toward the front.

Nelsyn wandered over to them, sipping cold water from her mug and watching over her shoulder as the loading bay doors swung back and forth on their hinges.

"Jory," she stated flatly. "What did you do."

"What?!" he cried. Sara could only double over and laugh at him. "I didn't do anything!"

"Somebody did something," she said, eyeing the doors skeptically. "And it looks a lot like it was you."

"I'm serious! She asked if we could see him, and I told her yes. That's all."

"See who?"

"The wizard!"

"What wizard? You mean, like… Erik?"

"No!" He stuck out both hands and shook them. "The actual wizard! The real one, from Waterdeep! Yes, he's still alive! No, he didn't explode!"

"Well, everybody knows that…"

"She wanted to know where he was, so I told her, and then she ran out the door."

"Wait. So he was actually here tonight?"

"Jory," Sara accused him, still smiling pitifully at him as she crossed her arms over her chest. "That's not all you said to her."

"But I didn't -"

"You asked her a pretty personal question."

"Where was he sitting?" Nelsyn continued as she took another drink and leered at him over the rim over her mug.

"E6."

"Wow. Front and center."

"Yeah. She didn't want him to miss anything."

"So what did you ask her?"

Jory could only roll his eyes and sigh. None of them had time for this. He dropped his head and pinched his brow between his thumb and his forefinger but when he looked up, he found all eyes were on him. Even Erik and Velanthyr had paused their conversation long enough to turn around and stare. The technicians in the back tried to appear as if they weren't listening, but everyone knew they were. Suddenly, he could feel the heat that was trapped beneath the heavy mantle of his bear pelt.

"I asked her if he knew how she felt about him."

"What do you mean, how she felt…" And through the window of her eyes he could see her mentally calculating every single word she'd just sung. Right in front of the very man it was all intended for. Seated front and center, missing nothing. Her eyes flickered like golden flames.

"Holy shit," she breathed. "Like… feelings? Real ones? What did she say?"

He didn't get to answer. Just then, raucous applause erupted from behind them. The thunderous retort of clapping hands and cheers drowned all other sound, and signaled to them all that their time was up. Corinne came skipping backstage as the curtains fell behind her.

"And that's a wrap for me! Slam and a dunk! Go get 'em while they're - what's going on?"

"The wizard was here tonight," Nelsyn answered her without breaking her eye contact with Jory. "The real one. Shayla is in love with him. What did she sayyy?"

"No," he told her, holding very still while Sara dabbed a powder puff over his face. "She said no. He doesn't know."

"Are you serious?" Corinne gasped, pressing a hand to her heart.

"Well he does now," Sara chuckled, wriggling her eyebrows as she dropped the powder back into her cosmetics case. "I hope she caught him before he got away. He deserves an explanation."

And all around them, activity buzzed. Scenic backdrops rolled by, the intern fussed with Velanthyr's wig on her tiptoes, Sara dug frantically around searching for her lip stain, and the other actors began lining up to take their places. But in spite of the jubilant bustle of life happening all around them, Nelsyn could only stand with her mug in her hands, awestruck by the revelation they'd just been given.

"Sweet tapdancing Asmodeus," she laughed, shaking her head with her eyes transfixed on some far away place. "You mean to tell me that this whole time," she jostled the water in her mug when she bellowed, "THIS WHOLE TIME?! This whole play has been just a great big love letter to some… man?! For months?! And he only just heard it? Tonight? For the first time?"

"I think that about sums it up, yep," Sara told her, taking the mug from her hands.

"That's genius!" She shuffled to her place in line, utterly befuddled, her eyes glassy and glazed. "They're star-crossed, it's perfect! I wish this would've happened months ago! Just you wait, you'll see. When all the little fan fic authors out there find out about this? They are gonna go berserk! People everywhere will pay money for a vial of our sweat! The contents of our chamber pots - we'll be famous!

"Gods have mercy on us all. There might even be a sequel. We'll be touring this show til the day we die!"

************************************************************************

[annah-kitathryne]

7, 12, and 24 for helena bertinelli?

Helena Bertinelli

7. A quote of them that you remember?

Kid: Do you have super strength?

Helena: No.

Kid: Are you invulnerable?

Helena: I'm afraid not.

Kid: Then how are you gonna save him? What are you gonna do?

Helena: I'm going to do everything I'm capable of doing!

-)(-

Helena: Hypocrite

-)(-

Helena: Jabberwook

12. Sexuality headcanon?

I'm of two minds that exist hand in hand. Demisexual, Demiromantic, Bisexual. She wouldn't use those words for it, though. She knows she's queer and Bi, but doesn't exactly want to dig any deeper.

Also just realized the flag colors for all those identities (except for the demiromantic green) have matched her costume at some point throughout her history. No serious it matches.

24. What do you think is a secret they have that they never told anyone?

I think about this one a lot, actually. So far up to my reading, she doesn't talk explicitly about memories she has with her immediate family.. I think she keeps those to herself. She talks about her family history, but that's stuff that reasonably anyone could find out, but the personal stuff? She keeps those to herself. The moments where her mother brushes her hair or would pick out a dress, the moments at meals where they were almost normal. What she named her toys. She also keeps all the memories of her brother to herself.

She also keeps a lot of stuff private about her faith. Sure, she talks about it and devoted it with Artemis, but it's another thing for herself. Something that can't be taken away. Her family is dead, and a vigilante identity can be stripped, but her faith is her own. Even in the moments where her faith won't allow her in, it's still hers and hers alone.

I think she also stays quite on just how lonely she can be. How she doesn't have a family, she only started making friends later on, how that friendship can feel conditional, how separated she can be from people. It's never quite there, but still there. She loves working on her own, being herself. She does it and loves it. But sometimes it hits her just how alone she is. Moments where she remembered she was the only one in her building, using recorded conversation to fill up the empty space.

I also think she keeps quite on just how much she cares for the younger vigilantes. Robin and Spoiler, to be exact. Now, in canon so far in my reading, Huntress and Spoiler have met and teamed up 1.5 times. I think despite that very short list, Huntress cares a lot. She doesn't want another kid in a costume, as seen from Blunt Trauma. She's a teacher, she cares about her students, and she cares about the kids she saves. She goes out of her way to try to help kids even if logically she knows it's doomed. She doesn't want more kids going down the vigilante path. She sees Spoiler, and she hopes that it's not too late to turn her away from vigilantism even though she knows it won't work because she cares. She doesn't want anyone else to become a part of this life. Robin (Tim) she has a much longer history. She would never admit how much she wants to be an older sister, how she feels like an older sibling when around him. She won't admit it but she's proud of him.

She won't ever admit, not even on her death bed, just how much Batman's rejection into the main circle hurt. Sure, people know it. But not how deep it was.

[the-words-we-sung]

Thoughts and pictures - S3E2

Here we go for the rewatch of S3E2 (sorry in advance, it might get long ^^')

The new rules at Hillerska are pretty dumb and way too severe. And this phone policy is so stupid: how are these 2 horny boys supposed to survive? :p

So on one hand, online hate is about Simon not being good enough for Wilhelm, and on the other hand, it's about Wilhelm who should not have said anything in his speech because he's betraying the school. Though Wilhelm is not reading the online comments like Simon, and the attacks are less personal and vicious. Seeing Simon read through everything was so painful, I just wanted to go kick the ass of everyone who dared be a bully so this lil' muffin.

Gosh the third years are over the top: "three years here and we get nothing", just because they can't have a proper graduation and all the parties and stupid stuff they wanted to do before graduating? I guess that it's frustrating but compared to the real issues that are being raised about the school, it sounds very very superficial... August is way more reasonable than Vincent about it: the issue is not that they won't have a graduation (even if they don't have the party, they will still graduate high school) but that the school might close, thus sending them all to other schools before the end of the term. Vincent is an idiot.

"Why can't she call me?". Episode 2 and Wilhelm is already heartbroken because of his mother.

Farima doesn't believe Wilhelm about his initiation, look at her face! But it strikes me that her main concern if he did go through this awful initiation is that it would look bad for the Royal Court to keep him here, and not at all about his well being and how traumatizing it would have been!! The adults in this show are the worst... And nobody cares about Wilhelm (except Simon) 💔

"He's such an attention whore". Another ass that needs to be kicked!! How dare they talk about him like that?

Simon keeps being bullied and Wilhelm pressured: if they close the school, it'll be his fault. Why is everyone so mean and terrible to them?

The Felice interview makes me so mad!! And it reminds me of the interaction between August, Simon and Wilhelm back in season 1 when August tells them how nice it is that rowing bring students together, with no regard for their ethnicity, background, etc. Which made Simon super mad too. I love the switch from Felice in the office with her strained smile to her angrily throwing punches during gym class. Excellent cinematic!

Micke and Sara: I'm still so surprised to see him act so well.

This freaking blonde girl from the choir: I hate her 😡 She was the one slut shaming Felice in season 2. Now she's complaining about the point of training for a song if they're not sure they'll be performing. You're annoying and mean. I don't like you 😤

But Simon's face when Wilhelm joins the choir 💜💜

I love this little scene so much: they are just so cute and in love. Like you can feel how much they love each other: they're literally glued together, kissing and then just keeping their faces so so close to each other while talking. It just feels so true to life, when you love someone so much that you just want to stay as close as you can, just touching each other in any way you can, never letting go. Also I just love how Simon loves Wilhelm. How clingy he can be.

So the scene between Nils and August: we know that they were victims of this awful initiation but I'm realizing now that we don't know if they ended up being beaten up and made fun of because they got an erection? I've seen several posts of people discussing that August could be queer because he had a reaction to the porno (which I don't agree with, I don't think that it can be taken as an indicator of someone's sexual orientation). But we don't know if he had a reaction, do we? Or am I misunderstanding/missing something?

Wilhelm is so angry with August. Yeah his reaction in the library can be seen as a little over the top ("don't talk to him!") but I understand his anger. And okay, the way we go from the fight to both of them sitting silently in Boris' office is comedy gold :p I'm almost frustrated that the fight was so short though, I wanted Wilhelm to get some good punches in!! These mediation talks: I'm not sure how I feel about them. On one hand I get that the Court wants them to get along, but on the other, August did something truly awful and traumatizing to Wilhelm. So if he doesn't want to talk to him, to see him or to have anything to do with him anymore, well, it's his right! He shouldn't be forced to interact with him like that. Also I was a bit disappointed by Boris this season: he was so good during season 2 but I find him a bit underwhelming this season...

"I can be your revolution". Please can we get the song again in the last episode? The full version for a happy Wilmon who are a revolution together? Pretty please?

Simon giggling while reading the messages about his video is the cutest thing ever. And it's a tragedy that it was one of the only giggle we got from him this season 😫

Wilhelm is wearing a purple jumper when he listens to Simon's song. It's rare to see him wear purple, isn't it?

Linda still annoys me a bit this season. Like in this scene: no, don't ask your son, who's been betrayed so hard by his sister, to still care about her right now. He's angry at her, and rightfully so (I love love love that they let him be truly angry at her). She should understand that.

Rosh and Stella: yes please, I ship it! (Yeah I don't like Frederika so I'm all for a new potential love interest for Stella :p)

Also after 2 seasons where we regularly saw guys peeing outside, it's the girls' turn!! I don't know why but it made me laugh ^^

The conversation about their summer plans: this scene is so awkward!! And the tent scene that follows is just terrible 😭 Also hear me out: maybe unpopular opinion but I think Simon overreacted. Maybe from his point of view what Wilhelm is gonna do during summer is not working (because it's not the kind of job that him, Ayub and Rosh will have) but it's still working. Taking classes to become Prince/King is not gonna be a walk in the park, it's gonna be work for Wilhelm. It's terrible because I understand where Simon is coming from during their fight: telling Wilhelm that he never had to work to afford anything, that he's so incredibly privileged, it's so hard to be with someone who's from such a higher social status and be easily pissed off when they don't seem to realize it (what do you mean it sounds like I'm talking from experience.. 😅). Side eyeing Wilhelm hard with the shushing though. Don't talk to Simon like that >< (I would have stormed out if I had been Simon!) And yeah throwing the line about the settlement money was not nice (I've seen people being angry about it) but he's mad and got yelled at while he thought he was just trying to relate to and hang out with Simon's friends. So I understand throwing a mean comment there (I would have done the same 😣)

The "is it my fault?" breaks my heart. And so again: the crushing weight on Wilhelm's shoulders... His mother is unwell so he has to be strong, to be ready to take over, and on top of it, he has to keep it to himself.

Gosh season 3 is just things piling up on Wilhelm and Simon. Different things but still crushing them, slowly but surely...

[bonedo-enthusiast]

Coming Out to BND

A/N: my first ever actual tumblr post! (AHH) i’m still learning about how to use tumblr and whatnot but… i had this thought one day and figured maybe i should post it. hope you guys like it. (also btw lowercase is intended!) :)

tws: none(?), mention of homophobia/transphobia but only in passing

genre(s): fluff, comfort

wc: 723

sungho

“oh, really?”

surprised but tries not to be too surprised because he doesn’t want to make you feel weird

will take your secret to his grave if need be

probably won't ask you many questions because he doesn't want to make you uncomfortable

assures you that this won't change anything about your friendship

he might be a little awkward though, unsure of how to segue into a different subject

if you came out as trans, it would definitely take several months for him to be able to switch to your new name and pronouns

not out of malice, but because he knew you for so long as (insert deadname)

he would cringe every time he slips up, quickly apologizing and moving right along

riwoo

"oh... thanks for telling me."

similarly to sungho, he's surprised

but he's definitely more awkward about it

like to the point you wonder if he's homophobic/transphobic

but he just has so many thoughts and questions swirling around in his head

like how long have you known? what does this mean? does this change anything about your friendship? (no, of course not!)

once he pushes those thoughts aside, he smiles at you tells you he's glad you told him

now you both are closer than ever! <3

no but i feel like whenever riwoo would mess up your pronouns, he'd apologize profusely

like to the point where it's very awkward...

but he's trying his best! :,)

jaehyun

"oh word?"

no but something in me tells me jaehyun would get excited (?)

(like this man may or may not have taken a "am i gay test" in high school kind of vibes)

"whaaaat?!"

if you came out as trans, he would definitely insist on buying necessary supplies for you, especially if your birthday is around the corner :D

he's super sweet and supportive, immediately asking you what your new name/pronouns are

"ooh, that's such a cool name!"

and if you came out with your sexuality, he would always consider this when talking about attractive people

like pointing out cute people you'd potentially be attracted to with your newly revealed sexuality

might even try setting you up with them lol

taesan

"okay... and? took you long enough."

bro already knew 😭

taesan strikes me as a very observant person, so i feel like he'd already have some idea

maybe he'd even start viewing you as the gender you transition to, before you even tell him

(he's psychic! /j)

in his mind, that's who you are and who you always have been! <3

as a result, he would have no issues with getting your pronouns/name right

as for sexuality, he really doesn't care (respectfully)

"cool."

like. so nonchalant.

leehan

"oh? tell me more."

i feel like he'd be very curious about your identity (if you're comfortable telling him about it of course!)

he's a big listener and likes learning about things, so he would be very good to talk to about these things

and actually, i could even see him doing some research to try and learn more about his friend and understand them better :)

i see him as the kind of person you'd come out to first, just because he's so understanding

like you could come to him with your fears and worries about your realized identity and he'd just be so so sweet :(

"you're still the same person, and you're still my friend. you are never alone. it's okay, we can figure this out together."

PLS 😭💗

woonhak

"huh... so what does that mean exactly?"

i'm not sure he would understand anything beyond the basic terms most people know (like gay, lesbian, trans)

so if you were to come out to him as, say, nonbinary, he might need some explaining about what exactly that means

but regardless, he'll just smile and nod

but still be confused because why are you telling him this??

he wonders if he's supposed to do something with this information, or just listen

i can so picture him trying hard to pay attention to what you're saying while at the same time trying to figure this stuff out in his head lol

but once he's past this internal debate, he's so sweet

messes up your pronouns/ name quite a bit at first though

"yeah, me and (insert deadname)-- i mean, wait! sorry, (insert chosen name)..."

[vibrantbirdy]

Hey lovely!! Could you do a Cassian Andor x (f) reader? I’m a sucker for enemies to lovers. I like the whole “you annoy me and piss me off” relationship that ends up in a situation where they are stuck together for something and end up in a fight where they suddenly realize they have feelings! I love allowing creators to have their own space to create, so if you wanna do something else entirely, please feel free too!!

❤️ take care of yourself

Thank you SO much, this is a great request! I am a sucker for enemies to lovers too. I hope you don't mind, but I had a similar Cassian request from Anon at the same time about Cassian x Reader having to go undercover to Canto Bight as a couple which I thought would work well with yours so I merged them. (Anon, I also hope you don't mind the merging and that you can find this ok as I don't know if/how I can reply to two asks in the same post?)

Also, I want to thank everyone who has interacted with my writing so far.

Requests for Character x Reader fics are currently open in my Asks. Please read the guidelines first. Keep 'em coming.

-Birdy

Title: Charade Fandom: Star Wars Setting: Between Andor and Rogue One Genres: Sci-fi; Romance; Enemies to lovers; Action/adventure; Fluff Warnings: Moderate sexuality; moderate swearing; mild violence/peril; brief mentions of loss of family/friends by Reader. Pairing: Cassian Andor x Female Reader Chapters: 1/1 (Complete) Word Count: approx 10k (oops)

Summary: You and Captain Cassian Andor have to negotiate your personal differences and difficult history when you are both assigned to go on an undercover operation to the Galaxy's playground for the super-rich, Canto Bight, as a married couple.

Prologue

Your first mission as a spy for the Rebel Alliance has taken you to Carida. The objective; to infiltrate and sabotage the Imperial Naval Yard there then get out as quickly and quietly as possible.

As it turns out, the mission is doomed from the outset. An Imperial mole who somehow dug their way into the very heart of Rebel Command on Yavin 4 has alerted the Empire to your plans.

Your team of six hardly made it five kilometers from the rust-bucket of a ship Rebel Leadership had assigned to you when you were intercepted by an Imperial patrol.

The firefight was brief. The Stormtroopers were green, even more so than you. You wondered with a pang of unexpected sympathy whether they'd come fresh from the Imperial Academy which was also based on Carida. There were far more seasoned combatants amongst your own unit and the fight was over before it had really began.

Still, that's when you'd lost poor Lily to a Trooper's blaster bolt. You're not even sure he was aiming at her. She'd fallen against you and you'd twisted your ankle as you'd spun to the ground following a futile attempt to hold her upright as if that would negate the fatal injury she'd just sustained.

Now, as you limp up the ridge of the hill you feel a swell of relief as you see that you are almost back to the clearing where the ship is stowed. But as you catch a glimpse of the hunk of old metal, you realise with horror that you are not out of the woods yet.

The Empire uses decrepit shuttles just like this one for for training cadets at the Academy. That's why High Command had insisted you take it - to blend in. You'd nicknamed it Tenacity because the old girl just wouldn't die and the name had stuck.

The ancient vessel doesn't do anything quickly until it's up in the air. Then she's sharp as a razor. But she has a complicated manual override for emergency take-offs whereby the crew need pump fuel round the engines a few times using an externally stowed generator.

Good for training Imperial cadets for problem solving and how to make the best of old tech. Not so good for spies who need a quick exit.

You're the engineer, it should have been you who hooked the ship up to the generator. But with your injury you are too slow and so the others went on ahead to start without you. You are sure you gave correct and clear instructions, but in his panic, it looks like Rogdul has connected the ports up all wrong. Dangerously so.

Overhead, you hear the scream of Imperial TIE fighters and you launch yourself into the nearby undergrowth. You count them. Four. They are searching the valley for you. They pass, but they'll be back in less than a minute. It's impossible that they haven't spotted the ship in the forest clearing.

From your hiding place you hear the ship's engines burst into life. Inside, you imagine Rogdul and Anya carrying out hurried pre-flight checks. Baslin is probably taking up position in the gunner's hatch, hoping to see some action.

No, you think. Not like this.

But you can reach the ship and fix the problem. You know you can. The whole thing will blow if you don't and that's not an option.

You dart out towards the Tenacity, but someone intercepts you, slamming into you with a body tackle and dragging you roughly back to cover through the mud. Soon, you're seated up against them, your back pressed into their chest, their arms and legs wrapped around you like a vice.

It's Captain Cassian Andor, you realise, your superior officer and the lead operative on this mission. You'd completely forgotten that he was even further behind the hasty retreat than you, taking up the rear and keeping watch for more Imperial patrols on your tail.

You don't care who it is. You struggle and writhe furiously against him, desperate to get away and stop the impending disaster you can see unfolding before your eyes. But Andor holds you fast against him as if you were a child having a tantrum.

"Let me go, I can fix it!" you scream over the howl of the returning TIEs.

"You can't, it's too late!" Andor shouts back into your ear.

As if on cue, the generator connected to the side of the ship starts to spark wildly, just as you knew it would. You watch helplessly as the fuel cells hidden within the Tenacity ignite with a deafening bang and whoosh of flame as the ship goes up in a hellish fireball.

A second later, the TIEs make their second pass. There's no need for them to bother firing their weapons. The devastation from the explosion is catastrophic.

They do it anyway.

Two years later

You are on approach to Canto Bight, Cantonica's capital city - the Galaxy's playground for the wealthy.

Captain Cassian Andor is in the pilot's seat, following instructions from the flight control tower. You'll sit down in a moment, but right now, you are desperately trying to sort the sticking-up collar of his cream shirt which is made of expensive looking silk.

Irritated, he tries to bat your hand away, but you are persistent.

"Kriff's sake, Andor, just let me do it," you mutter.

"I'm not a child," he says petulantly, but he relents.

There. Now he looks the part in his fine clothes. He's tidied his short beard and moustache so that the stubble is cropped neatly to the sharp contours of his chiselled face. His dark brown hair is neatly parted at the side, although it's perhaps still a little long...

You don't look too shabby either, bedecked in a knee-length silk day dress of sky blue, accompanied by a cloak of dusky purple which is draped elegantly across your shoulders. The Rebellion went to great lengths to fund this operation and they certainly didn't skimp on the provision of suitable attire. It's essential that you fit in.

"I look fine, you look fine, stop fussing," Andor says dismissively, noticing as you smooth out a couple of annoying wrinkles in your dress and swish out the skirt to make sure the fabric is lying properly.

"I think you look lovely," K-2SO, Andor's droid and almost constant companion, pipes up from the co-pilot's chair, "and that Cassian looks like he's swallowed an Endor fire hornet."

"You don't think," Andor retorts, "That's just circuits misfiring randomly in your head..."

K-2 turns to you with a mechanical whirr, and if he had the ability to conjure expressions, this one would read:

See? I told you.

You stifle a laugh and drop down into the passenger seat behind the droid.

The first time you'd met the hulking re-programmed Imperial security droid had been that fateful day on Carida. You and Andor had shivered miserably in silence for hours by the wreckage of the Tenacity as the rain lashed down, making little difference to the fearsome fuel-accelerated flames which devoured the ship. The Empire, in their arrogance, didn't bother to send out a patrol to check the site.

Then, late into the night, K-2 had finally arrived in Cassian's own ship under cover of darkness. With your injured ankle having swollen to twice its usual size, the gargantuan droid had lumbered over, scooped you up, and carried you with surprising gentleness into the vessel. Ever since, you've always enjoyed his company and his sardonic wit.

Your relationship with Andor, on the other hand, has been tumultuous since its inception. He's always been frosty and stand-offish with you. You sometimes wonder if your presence reminds him of the disaster on Carida the way his does to you.

Whatever his reasoning, his uncompromising demeanour has always brought out your worst qualities when you're around him, especially your stubbornness and your dislike of being told what to do. You've never gone so far as insubordination under his command, but when you disagree with him, you have a unique knack for finding your own way to interpret his orders. This always has the infinitely satisfying effect of winding him up.

Anyway, this time won't be like Carida. And despite your personal differences, you and Andor have worked together successfully - though admittedly never harmoniously - many times since.

Your objective is simple enough. You're looking for a business man, Dreylan Balgo. He's not yet thirty, but he's the biggest supplier of Imperial weapons in the Galaxy. You need to obtain his biometric signature and transmit it back to Alliance High Command. They'll then use it to access the designs and blueprints of the weapons his company is designing for the Empire and eventually send agents in as factory workers to sabotage various key elements.

As Andor and K-2 make the final approach to Canto Bight you look out the window. Below you, the dark sea glitters and ahead, the shining spires of the beautiful city glow golden in the evening sun.

You close your eyes as a flash of a childhood memory dances across your brain. You came here with your parents once when you were nine or ten. That's partly why you've been chosen for this mission. You used to move in these circles.

K-2 drops the shuttle neatly on to the landing pad which juts out over the water.

"Don't do anything I wouldn't do," the droid quips as you exit.

It's winter on Cantonica. As you step out onto the platform, the breeze is chilly but pleasantly fresh and you can hear the steady crash of waves against the cliffs below you.

At the entrance to the structure, you pause a minute to take in the monolithic doors, ornately carved and inlaid with beautiful coloured glass which catches the light of the setting sun with dazzling beauty. The doors open and you and Andor step into the elaborate marble halls of Canto Bight's most luxurious resort as newlyweds Mr and Mrs Race Pax.

**************************************************

The suite you are staying in is as lavish as the rest of the place, but it is small. The coiffeurs of the Rebel Alliance do have their limits.

"What are you doing?" You ask, suddenly stopping your own unpacking to observe Andor throwing an assortment of pillows and blankets onto the ground.

"I'm taking the floor like a gentleman."

"Don't be stupid," you snort, "What if the maid comes in and sees this..." you gesture to the collection of blankets on the floor, searching for a fitting description "...gentleman's pillow fort?"

The most important thing on this mission is that your cover needs to be believable. And, perhaps tantamount to that, if Andor is tired, he'll be even grumpier than usual and you don't think you could deal with that.

He straightens and sighs, repeatedly slapping the cushion he has been plumping with unnecessary force.

One thing you and Andor have never been around each other is shy. Having spent weeks at a time together in miserable, hastily erected camps, cramped transports, and underground bunkers in the service of the Alliance, the necessity of living in close quarters with him stamped that out quick. You've learned to move in each other's personal space with ease and usually without any awkwardness, so you can't fathom why he's making a meal of it now.

He looks at you defiantly for a moment longer before accepting defeat.

"Fine," he says, as he starts to pick up the elements of his makeshift camp bed and throwing them back on the bed, "Fine, but if you snore, I won't hesitate to kick you out."

"If I snore?!"

That was rich.

*******************************************

You and Andor are attending one of Canto Bight's seemingly infinite evening soirees for the rich and powerful. A colourful sea of people in lavish dress are engaged in polite conversation and enjoying expensive beverages in one of the grandest ballrooms you've ever seen.

Dreylan Balgo is here, somewhere. Tonight is a chance to observe his behaviour, get to know his habits and make an initial introduction if possible. Anything that could help you create an opportunity to obtain his biometrics over the next few days.

You are wearing a teal halter-neck gown, a drink in one hand while the other rests elegantly on top of Andor's arm. The silk of his plush evening jacket is smooth under your fingertips and you absent-mindedly fuss with it as you scan the crowd for your target.

Someone says your name. Your real name.

Andor stiffens next to you.

Trying to keep your composure you turn and relief floods through you as you realise it's one of your mother's oldest friends, Lady Sen Prya. It's been years since you've seen her and she must be in her eighties by now, but she hasn't changed one bit. She is adorned in the most grandiose yellow satin gown you've ever seen, complete with matching gloves. Her long white hair falls, twisted in an elaborate braid, all the way down to her waist.

Quickly, you take her gloved hand and squeeze it gently, a subtle message you hope she can read.

"Oh I'm sorry you must be mistaken," you say politely and introduce yourself as Mrs Pax.

Understanding flickers across Prya's face. She always was sharp as a knife and time doesn't seem to have dulled that characteristic one jot.

"Ah of course, child. Forgive me," she says tactfully with all the grace and ease you remember from your childhood, "You look very like a dear old friend of mine. It's nice to meet you. I am Lady Sen Prya."

She reaches a hand up and touches your cheek affectionately with a twinkle in her golden eyes. Then, she reaches out to Andor who brings her hand up to his mouth and kisses it gently.

"Race Pax, it's a pleasure," he says, and there is a genuine warmth in his voice.

He appears to have relaxed somewhat and you are sure it's because he probably recognises Prya's name. She has been funding various elements of the Rebellion for years.

"Now, is there anyone you need an introduction to, before I retire to bed like the old woman I am?"

Prya stresses introduction as if its a code word. And it is.

You look up at Andor questioningly. You hate to ask his permission for anything, but he is the senior operative here. He nods once in ascent.

"Dreylan Balgo," you say.

Lady Prya's eyes light up and you can tell that she is delighted to learn who your indented mark is.

"Well then, follow me, young lovers."

Andor gives that rare smile of his, the one you see so infrequently which reaches all the way up to his eyes where they crinkle at the corners. He likes Prya. Everyone does. That's what makes her so dangerous for the Empire.

You wind through the crowd, following Prya as if she is golden star leading you to your destination. You're suddenly nervous and although you'd never admit it, there is something comforting about how Andor's large hand entwines with your own as he follows your lead through the busy party.

"Dreylan! My boy!" Prya's voice is clear as crystal and cuts through the party hubbub with ease.

Balgo turns from a conversation he is having with several other men. He is a handsome man, dressed in an evening suit of black velvet. He is tall and elegant with piercing blue eyes and a mop of sandy blonde curls.

"Ah! Lady Prya! What a delight to see you," he says gregariously, stooping low to kiss the older woman's cheek.

"And you, my lad," she replies with gracious ease, "Now, I want you to meet a couple of newly weds, Mr and Mrs Pax. I'm certain young Pax here would be interested in discussing business with you boys, although I, for one, find it all very dull."

There is a ripple of smug, amused laughter from the circle of men, and you join in only because you know Prya could negotiate most of these idiots out of any of business asset of theirs she chose to.

Balgo turns his attention to you first, appraising you thoroughly before taking your hand and kissing it with an elaborate flourish. You let out a silly little laugh, ensuring your voice carries an appropriate blend of affluence and air headedness.

Less than a minute you've been in this man's company and you can already read him like a holo novel.

He then greets Andor with boisterous joviality.

"Congratulations, Pax, what a stunning creature you have caught in your net."

Andor chuckles amiably, shaking Balgo's hand.

"It's good to meet you," he says warmly.

This time, his smile doesn't quite reach his eyes and you notice that his hand, which has been sitting lightly round your waist, shifts down to just under your hip.

Lady Prya retires to bed soon after, flashing you a wink and a dazzling smile as she sweeps from the room, an ageless vision in yellow.

The conversation and drinks flow. All night, you sense Balgo's eyes on you. Alliance High Command don't officially approve of so-called "honey-traps," and neither do you, but you see no harm in cultivating Balgo's delusion if it opens another window of opportunity. You don't discourage him, directly meeting the furtive glances he casts your way when he thinks Andor isn't looking.

Throughout the evening Andor proves why he is so good at his job. His ability to observe and imitate behaviour is uncanny. He adopts with ease that careless, raucous affectation that only young, wealthy men seem to possess. He hasn't taken more than a few sips of his wine, but he mirrors Balgo's increasingly boisterous body language and bawdy humour expertly.

By the end of the night the two are stomping around the dwindling party with their arms slung around each other's shoulders, swaying and laughing and singing like idiots.

The night has been a success. You've created a rapport with Balgo.

*******************************************

"Prya was a friend of your family's?" Andor's voice comes unexpectedly from the darkness, "What happened to them?"

It's very late - or early, depending on how your look at it - and you and Andor have just fallen, exhausted, into bed.

You are resting on your left side, as always, and you hear him roll over beside you, so that he is looking at your back.

You are surprised by how accurately Andor has read into the situation with so little information. You don't see any harm in telling him.

"My father owned an agricultural engineering works. One day the Empire came to his factory and asked him to design and build components for some machine they were building, probably a weapon. He refused. They executed him on the spot and took the factory anyway. I did my best, but we struggled and my mother died a few years after of a broken heart. That's when I left to join the Rebellion."

Andor shuffles, the bed shifting beneath you both and you can tell that he's propped himself up on his elbow. You feel his eyes boring into the back of your head.

"You've never told me that before."

"You never bothered to ask," you reply defensively, "I know what you think, what you all think. That I'm a rich brat who ran off to join the Rebellion just to piss off her wealthy parents."

There's a silence.

"Turns out you're only half right..." you finish with a rather bitter self-deprecating chuckle.

To your surprise, Andor puts a comforting hand on your shoulder. You hesitate for a moment, before you reach across your body to place your hand on top of his, just for a second.

"Goodnight, Cassian," you say.

You rarely use his first name and it feels odd, but not unnatural on your tongue.

"Goodnight."

He rolls back over and is soon snoring softly. You don't fall asleep for a long while, not until you hear the birds begin their morning chorus and the light of dawn starts to creep through the open window with the sea breeze.

********************************************************

You and Andor spend the next morning trying to locate Balgo but he's nowhere to be found. You suspect he is probably in his bed nursing a very sore head.

The last place you try is the Fathier racetrack, although you know there are no races on today. You are glad. You can't stand to see these magnificent animals forced to run like that.

Even so, you are unable to refrain from grabbing Andor's hand in excitement and dragging him over to the nearest pen where a mother and foal are resting in a patch of sunshine.

"A baby," you find yourself saying, stupidly.

Andor laughs quietly at the ridiculous, breathless joy in your voice. You wonder if he's making fun of you, but when you turn to him his eyes are sparkling with a mischievous light.

He gestures to a nearby handler, adopting Pax's air of arrogant entitlement with frightening ease.

"My wife would like to see the animal."

"Of course, sir."

The handler coaxes the foal over and it's tall enough already to reach other the fence. You pat the creature on its nose and between its ridiculously long ears and it nuzzles sweetly into your hand.

"Mr Pax?" You say as you turn to Andor and realise he's hovering a few feet back from the fence.

You gesticulate to him to come over. When else will he get the opportunity to interact with such an animal?

"Oh no, I can see fine from here," he replies with a shake of his head.

Surely not, you think, and you feel your mouth twist into a devilish smirk.

"Are you scared?" You tease.

You sidle up to him and entwine your arm in his before stretching up to whisper into his ear so that only he can hear you.

"Captain Andor?"

Unable to resist your direct challenge he offers you his hand with a resigned, slightly nervous grin. You take it, leading him back to the fence. You guide his palm up to the baby Fathier's nose and the creature sniffs it curiously. You then press it gently against the animal's long forehead. When you let go, Andor continues to stroke the animal softly, his face lit up with an expression of childish wonder.

"Thank you, husband," you say when you both turn to leave.

He gives you a subtle wink and you feel a sudden rush of something close to fondness for him.

********************************************

That afternoon is spent sneaking around the resort's service corridors. You are right at the top of the building and the corridors are narrow and low. It's ridiculously hot and you feel stupid carrying out serious espionage in yet another one of the seemingly endless supply of dresses you've been provided. This one is a horrible pink colour that clings all over and you hate it which is why you've chosen it for this dirty, sweaty work. You know you need to wear something suitable for Canto Bight's grand halls in case anyone sees you on your way to or from the job, but it just feels so unnatural.

Hopefully this shouldn't take too long. All you need to do is wire in a small signal booster to the resort's communications lines. Then, when you obtain Balgo's biometric signature, the data pad can send a transmission to a commandeered, disused Republic satellite to confirm that the sample has been collected successfully.

Actually transmitting the scrambled data to the Rebel base on Yavin 4 needs considerably more power which means, at some point, you and Andor are going to have to hike out to Cantonica's main transmitter mast and send the signal manually from there.

You'd flown past the huge pylon on your way in to land at the resort. It's a monumental thing and you feel a rush of nausea at the very thought of having to climb it...but that's a problem for another day, you decide.

Your head is buried in a control panel, and you're trying to explain to Andor why you need to use a slightly different width of cable than originally planned but he interrupts you mid-flow.

"Can you do it, or can't you?"

"I can do it," you snap back.

"Then just do it, I don't care how."

Charming as ever, the morning's hard won truce between you apparently forgotten. He's nervous and so are you, so you try not to hold it against him. He just wants to get out of here quickly.

There's a sound, and with horror, you realise it's the service elevator doors hissing open. A stern male voice follows soon after.

"Lars, If you're up here slouching again, I'm going to dock your pay."

You and Andor both freeze, staring at each other like Loth cats caught in the headlights of a speeder. Then, without warning he grabs you at the back of your knee, hitching your leg up to rest on his hip, his hand travelling further up the underside of your thigh and underneath your dress as he shoves you against the wall and pushes his body firmly against yours. The other hand flies up to your face, his thumb tracing the line of your cheekbone.

Your gasp of surprise is muffled as he crashes his lips hard against yours. It takes you only a millisecond to understand what he's doing and you kiss him back, twisting your fingers tightly through the locks of dark hair at the back of his head.

At this, a soft groan resonates in his throat and you are almost certain this is unintended. You feel a flash of satisfaction that you've managed to affect him in such a way, then scold yourself for being unable to refrain from point scoring with him, even now.

"Get out of here," Andor growls at the hapless employee, pretending he has only just noticed the man's presence.

His voice is low and husky. As he speaks, you feel his fingertips press into the flesh your thigh. Suddenly, the combination of his proximity and his heady, masculine, familiar scent is overwhelming, and you feel something hot and fierce coil in the pit of your abdomen.

Andor - Pax - has broken away from your lips to berate the man, but he hardly deigns to turn his head to look at the unfortunate employee. You take a moment to study the fine details of his face up close. His pupils are dilated, making his dark eyes gleam like midnight. His nostrils flare slightly with heightened breathing. An uncharacteristic blush is travelling up his neck into his cheeks. You can feel his heart slamming against his chest and your own.

"Oh, uhh... yes...of course," the poor employee sounds terribly embarrassed and all the previous managerial authority has vanished entirely from his voice.

"My apologies sir..."

The man actually stands on his tiptoes and cranes his neck to see your face through the tousled mess you've made of Andor's hair before addressing you directly with a courteous nod of his head.

"Madam."

You raise your eyebrows at him politely and give him a ridiculous little wave with your free hand, the one that's not woven through Andor's hair.

You hear the employee blundering off back to the service elevator and the machinery clunks as the doors close and he disappears.

Andor's forehead is gracing your own and neither you nor he move for a moment. It's just long enough to catch the slow glint of recognition in each other's eyes that something new has passed between you and you both know it.

"Sorry," he mumbles as he finally breaks away, running a hand through his hair as if to sweep away the feel of your fingers there, "I didn't have time to ask nicely."

"It's fine," you say, smoothing your stupid dress down and clearing your throat, "Good thinking."

He leans against the opposite wall, arms crossed, as you return to your work in silence.

*******************************************

Evening has fallen and Andor and Balgo are talking animatedly at the bar. The resort is hosting another of its grand parties. You sit with Lady Prya at a nearby table. You don't talk about your new life and she doesn't ask, but the conversation is easy and comfortable and you feel a rush of gratitude that your paths have crossed again.

Once Balgo has left to mingle with other guests, you give Prya an apologetic smile and cross over to the bar where you drape yourself around Andor's shoulders. You lean in to kiss him on the cheek. To anyone else, these merely look to be the actions of a young couple.

In reality, you are providing cover as Andor works quickly with Balgo's empty glass. Earlier, he'd lined the outside of the receptacle with a special gel that picks up biometric data. Once settled on a surface, it is almost imperceptible to the touch.

Andor attaches, then tears away the transfer strip from the glass and quickly places it down on the data pad's receiver. A rather sad and weary boop from the device confirms that it hasn't picked up Balgo's fingerprints.

"Kriff," Andor curses quietly in frustration, a muscle working in his jaw.

"Give it to me."

"What?"

"Give it," you hiss.

Uncertainly, Andor passes the various components of the device to you. You snatch them from his hand, shoving the bits and bobs into your pockets and stride away before he can stop you. The satin of your dress swishes a melody to the click of your heels. You hear Andor swear under his breath.

As you walk, your eyes scan the room, searching for your target. There. A flash of golden hair at the other side of the room. You stalk Balgo through the crowd, waiting for the right moment.

You make your approach, taking out a small mirror from your pocket and quickly squeezing a blob of the clear transfer gel onto your finger before making a performance of patting the strange substance on your mouth like lipstick. You snap the mirror closed and move in for the kill.

"Oh Mr Balgo, I am so sorry!" you exclaim, feigning embarrassment as you collide with his shoulder, jolting him arm so that he spills red wine all down the front of his pristine, white suit jacket.

"Please, Mrs Pax, it's no matter, really," he says as he stays your pawing hands and swoops down to greet you with a peck you on the cheek.

"I really am sorry, Dreylan, I will pay for the damage."

"Nonsense," he scoffs amicably, his chest visibly puffing out as you address him familiarly by his first name, "Now, where has your husband of yours got to? The fool surely hasn't let you out of his sight in that dress?"

Balgo is right, it is a nice dress. Your favourite so far in fact. It is tailored in beautiful crimson satin with a full skirt, off the shoulder sleeves, and a plunging neckline.

"Oh, he's around somewhere, I'm sure."

You lean in and whisper in his ear.

"But he's not here."

He smirks back at you and you see his icy blue eyes light up.

"Shall we get some air on the balcony?" He suggests.

Well, what an unexpected turn of events, you think sarcastically as you accept the proposal with an external show of flirtatious grace.

Out on the ballroom's grandiose veranda with Balgo, you look across Cantonica's seemingly endless, dark waters. The sea breeze is cold, and the businessman drapes his jacket round your shoulders. You laugh at the right times, interject an asinine comment here and there as Balgo talks about business, and allow him to explain things to you that you already know without complaint.

When the timing feels apt, and the balcony is otherwise deserted, you reach up and plant a kiss on his lips. He returns it, placing his hands on your hips. Balgo is attractive enough, there's no doubt about that, and the kiss is far from unpleasant... but it's only a means to an end. There's no passion to it, and you can't help but compare it against the ardent fervour of Andor's embrace. The heat of it.

As you pull back from Balgo with a suitably flushed smile, the gossamer curtains behind him shift in the breeze and over his shoulder you catch a glimpse of Andor across the cavernous ballroom.

He's so far away, but you see him clear as day. His eyes are searing holes in Balgo's back before meeting yours with a look of disdain. He downs his drink and slams the glass on the bar's marble counter-top, stalking off towards the elevator.

You suddenly feel a pang of irrational guilt which makes you furious with him. You're doing your job. The one he failed to do.

Balgo's self-satisfied look of victory does nothing for your vexed and flustered disposition. He offers to go and source a drink for you both. Keeping your composure - you are a spy after all - you smile sweetly at him and agree.

When he is gone, you make sure no one else is around before you take out the transfer paper from your pocket and subtly dab it on your lips. Surreptitiously, you whip the data pad out of your other pocket - thank the stars you'd insisted on dresses with pockets - and press the paper against the reader.

You wait, visualising what the signal might look like if it was something tangible and visible. A little bolt of lightning, perhaps, arcing to the closest service hatch, climbing its way up wires and cables, escaping out into the cold night and up into orbit and the decrepit Republic satellite.

Finally, the device gives you a cheerful bleep and lights up green.

Success.

You'd like to see Balgo's smug face fall when he returns to find you've disappeared, but you don't want this to go any further than necessary. You've got what you need and your sudden absence can easily be explained away as a young wife's crisis of conscience. You leave his jacket on a nearby chair and make your way up to your suite.

*****************************************

When you get back to the room, you can practically feel the heat radiating off Andor as he rips his shirt over his head dramatically in the process of undressing for bed.

Trying to ignore his silent seething, you turn away from him and lift your hair away from the nape of your neck. He automatically moves behind you to help you unzip your dress and, despite his clear agitation, his hands are gentle. The red gown drops to the floor, leaving you standing in your flimsy under-slip.

You turn back to look at Andor, taking in the familiar outline of his body. He's not a huge man, but the muscles are strong and taut in his torso, back and arms. Littered here and there are scars, testament to a hard life lived dangerously. The moonlight streaming through the bedroom window gives his tan skin an ethereal glow and illuminates the sharp, handsome features of his face.

It's not that you don't find each other attractive. You both know that there's always been some unspoken tension between you. But the tempestuousness of your personal and working relationship has always prevented you from falling into anything that might be a mistake.

You are suddenly keenly aware of the obviousness your own form as your underdress clings to the curves and planes of your body. You can sense Andor's eyes roaming across it in a way you're sure they never have before.

You think - maybe - something changed with that kiss you shared this afternoon. An embrace which began as a charade and ended as something else.

"That was a stupid, reckless, dangerous thing to do!" he finally explodes, interrupting your reverie and bringing you back down to reality with a thud.

"It was a calculated risk," you retort, furious with him and internally embarrassed by your silly romantic notions.

"And," you stretch across to the nearby dresser to pick up the data pad where Balgo's biometric data is safely stored to brandish it under Andor's nose, "And it worked."

"In case you'd forgotten, Balgo thinks you're here with your husband..."

"That's why it worked!" You exclaim, "By the Force, men know so little about their own species..."

"You could have blown our cover, the whole operation!"

That riles you. Why can't he just congratulate you on a job well done? You've just saved this damn operation. You have what you need now. All you need to do is transmit the data and you can both get out of here.

"I know what this is," you say, your voice rising in chorus with your anger.

"Oh please, please enlighten me."

"You're jealous."

There's a heavy silence.

"Jealous?!" Andor scoffs finally, but the strength of his conviction has faded from his voice, "Of what?"

"You can't stand that I kissed him."

Andor steps towards you, brows furrowed, eyes alight with something that's not quite anger.

"He's welcome to you," he seethes, "The last thing I need is some highly strung rich girl playing at being a spy."

The words sting, especially after you opened up to him about your parents the other night. Even as the vague idea of restraint flashes through your mind, impulsion compels you to raise a hand to strike him across the face.

He catches you by the wrist as you lash out, pulling you even closer to him so that his sharp nose is almost touching yours.

"And so what if I am?" He continues and the change in direction is so unexpected that you are rendered speechless.

His tone is low and dangerous and his deep, brown eyes are wild, roaming your face desperately for an answer that never comes.

"What if I am jealous? What if I don't want his filthy, Imperial hands all over you? So what?"

Andor's face suddenly softens, his eyebrows knitting together in an expression of genuine turmoil. It's a display of vulnerability you've never seen from him before. His grip on your wrist loosens slightly but he doesn't let go.

When he speaks again, his voice is barely a whisper.

"What difference does it make to you? Ever since Carida... You despise me."

It's not true, you suddenly realise. It's never been true. Not really.

You want to tell him you've never blamed him for what happened on Carida. The actions of the mole? Not his fault. The failure of that sorry excuse for a ship? Not him either. Somewhere along the way, your perception of him became warped and refracted through the prism of your own feelings of guilt.

You know he saved your life that day. He must have gone through hell in the aftermath too, dragged up in front of various different elements of High Command to explain why only two of his six operatives made it back alive over and over and over again.

More than this, you want to explain that while you were kissing Balgo tonight, you were thinking only of him. You want to say how when you took a shower earlier and caught a glimpse of yourself in the mirror you'd seen the faint, red imprints of his fingertips still lingering like little tattoos on your skin and that you hope they never fade.

But you're just so angry with him for always having to be such a stubborn, patronising, hard-nosed bastard. So you say none of these things.

You know how much it must have taken for him to admit feelings for you, no matter how clumsy and ill-timed the execution. This man who always holds his cards so close to his chest has shown you his hand. He's given you ammunition and all you can think of in this moment is shooting him down with it.

"That's right," you say, leaning in close and whispering spitefully into his ear, "I despise you Cassian Andor."

You regret it immediately. Andor drops your wrist as if he's been burned. As he steps away from you, he looks completely lost. His eyes are cast down at the floor, full of humiliation and hurt. By the time they return to your face, they have darkened like storm clouds.

"Then, I'm glad we understand each other."

You open your mouth to say something, to take back your words and undo the damage you've wrought with your temper. Nothing comes out.

As Andor turns away, you reach out for him, try to catch him by the elbow. He shrugs you off angrily and storms out of the room.

He doesn't come back until late. You pretend to be asleep as he quietly slips into the bed beside you.

********************************************

When dusk falls the next evening, and with Balgo's biometric stored safely on the data pad in your pocket, you and Andor set out for Cantonica's main transmitter.

You want to use the journey time to explain yourself, to apologise to him and admit your own feelings. But you are so ashamed of your careless words the night before that you don't even know how to begin.

Continuing the trend of the day, you walk the ten kilometers together in almost complete silence, trudging in single file along the rocky coastline.

Even so, being out in nature and away from the city feels almost healing to you. Most tourists only see the rugged countryside of Cantonica from the confines of a shuttle. It has a wild, mountainous, windswept type of beauty that you find exhilarating. After days stuck inside the gilded cage of Canto Bight, it is wonderful to be out in the elements, even if it is rather cold and damp.

Night has decsended by the time you reach the transmitter. It is set precariously on the cliff edge, so close to the tumultuous waters below, it seems like a freak wave could wash it away at any moment.

It looks even more imposing than you remember. A huge durasteel spike with a narrow, fragile looking caged ladder stretching up into the sky leading to a high metal gangway which looks just as ancient.

You go first, and as you climb higher, your hands and feet start to feel fuzzy and your breathing becomes rapid, escaping through your lips in short, sharp pants. You've never been good with heights.

The icy wind starts to whip unpleasantly around you and you grip the ladder fiercely with each laboured step. The damp air has made the metal slick and you gasp as your boot slips on one of the rungs.

You catch yourself before you fall, but even so, you are relieved when Andor comes up behind you and positions himself so that his solid chest presses reassuringly against your back as you take a moment to steady yourself.

"Take your time," he says and his tone is gentle, "You're ok."

You nod and exhale deeply. Steeling yourself, you continue your ascent. You can do this.

You finally reach the top of the ladder and crawl up onto the round platform which encircles the pylon of the transmitter to provide access to where the mechanics of the structure are stored.

You think for a moment that this experience is going to be marginally better than the climb up the rickety ladder. That foolish hope is soon proven mistaken. The durasteel grating beneath your feet feels precarious. There are rusted gaps in the metal here and there and your stomach flips every time you look down. The wind is stronger up here, wild and blustery, and you feel horrendously vulnerable. You just want to get the job done and get down from this death trap as soon as possible.

Andor helps you lift the heavy panel off the front of the control box. You sigh with relief. It's a standard set up, one you've seen hundreds of times before and it's easy to bypass. You set to work infiltrating the system and once you're done, you wait in suspense as the data pad blinks text at you.

TRANSMITTING, TRANSMITTING, TRANSMITTING....

TRANSMISSION SENT.

"It's gone!"

Instinctively, you turn to flash a smile of triumph towards Andor, and you are relieved when one corner of his mouth twitches upwards ever so slightly in return. You wonder if, on the way back to the city, you might find the courage to try and make amends for your rough words the previous night.

Your hopeful thoughts are rudely interrupted when, without warning, the gangway you are standing on shifts violently under your feet. The whole structure lets out an ominous and eerie metallic groan and you realise with dread that the platform is tearing itself away from the pylon.

You have no doubt that you and Andor are the first people up here in years, and that your presence has disturbed the structure from its hibernation and reminded it of its decrepit, fragile state.

You grab at one of the rungs affixed to the main pylon intended for servicing the internal mechanisms, but Andor is too far away to reach. As the walkway peels away, he falls with it. The huge hunk of metal stops suddenly at a right angle to the structure, and the now horizontal guard railings catch Andor as he slams into them with a sickening clang.

There's a brief moment of relief when you think the worst is over, but then the structure jerks violently again as another metal bolt fails, and it tilts just enough to send Andor somersaulting over the top of the railing.

Desperately, he scrambles for something to purchase, and he manages to grasp at the guard rail with the fingertips of one hand as he rolls over it, leaving him dangling helplessly over the roaring water below.

Closing your eyes, you let yourself drop down towards him and your body hits the metal railings agonisingly hard. You ignore the pain and, praying that the railings will hold you, you scrabble to grab at Andor, your hands clutching at a handful of material at the front of his shirt just as his own grip fails.

Unexpectedly finding himself suspended in the air, Andor looks up at you in abject surprise. He assesses the situation and his eyes lock on to yours in alarm as he understands what you've done.

Your shoulders feel like they are slowly pulling themselves out of their sockets and your fingers, numb and white, are twisted up painfully in the material of Andor's shirt. You can't breathe properly, the air in your lungs being crushed out of you as you are pressed into the railings by the pull of Andor's bodyweight below you.

You are terrified that at any moment the guardrail will collapse and you'll both plummet together into the angry sea which seems to wait with open maw like a predator beneath you. But you don't know what else to do, and you refuse to let him fall, so you cling on to him in utter desperation.

"Let go!" Andor shouts up at you, and you can tell it's an order.

"No!" You yell back.

Suddenly, the front of his shirt rips and he drops away so that he is now hanging, almost literally, by a thread. The abrupt and unexpected motion causes you to lose balance and you have to let go of him with one hand to steady yourself on the railings and stop yourself from almost flipping over them to join him.

Andor's eyes are wild and fraught now, flicking between the failing structure and your overwrought face.

"Damn you," he growls with renewed urgency, "let go!"

Your whole body is screaming at you to do as he says, but you won't. Tears sting your eyes, whether from pain or fear, you're not sure. You clench your jaw and shake your head at him.

Andor snarls with effort as he reaches behind him and into his back pocket, pulling out his flip knife. He wrenches it open with his teeth.

"Don't you dare, you stupid bastard!" you scream down at him as you realise with what he intends to do.

He looks at you for one final moment and the world seems to stop. His expression is completely open and readable to you, perhaps for the very first time. His dark eyes glint with a fear that you suddenly realise is as much for you as it is for himself.

Then, he sets his face into a mask of grim determination and with one swift motion, he severs the flimsy cord of fabric tying you together and cuts himself loose.

"Cassian!" The vague outline of his name is torn ragged from your throat in an incomprehensible shriek of despair.

Helpless, you watch as he falls, limbs flailing, down, down, down, until he hits the water below with a sickening crash and disappears into the black, unforgiving waves.

*********************************************

Unbeknownst to you, the Rebel Alliance have successfully received Dreylan Balgo's biometric signature and K-2SO is already on his way to extract you and Cassian from Canto Bight.

By his calculations, K-2 should reach Cantonica in twelve hours, twenty-nine minutes and seven seconds. Plenty of time to mull over the conversation he'd had with Murdo the flight technician before he'd left the hanger.

"Maybe this time, eh K-2?" Murdo had quipped as he unhooked the re-fuelling nozzle from Cassian's ship.

"Maybe this time, what?"

"Maybe this time they'll finally have admitted their feelings for each other."

"That is a ridiculous observation," K-2 had said confidently, "They dislike each other immensely."

Murdo had laughed and made a comment about the droid having a lot to learn about human relationships which K-2 had thought was quite rude.

But as he barrels through the hyperspace lanes in Cassian's ship towards the Outer Rim and Cantonica, K-2 has time to mull things over.

He thinks about how on missions when the unit has to set up camp on some remote world, Cassian always leaves your meat rations on the fire just a little longer than everyone else's because he knows you like them so crispy that they're almost burnt.

Then he thinks about how whenever he and Cassian return from a mission you're not assigned to, yours is always the first face the droid spots in the hanger when they arrive back, and that once your eyes land on Cassian, you always walk away without a word, seemingly satisfied.

Now that K-2 really uses his circuits to process it, Murdo's conclusion doesn't seem quite so ridiculous after all.

"Humans," the droid muses to himself with an exasperated shake of his mechanical head.

**********************************************

Somehow, you manage to descend the transmitter, climbing and clambering down the structure in a daze. You don't bother even trying to mask your shouts of distress and frustration as your feet and hands slip on the blasted, kriffing, cursed metal all the way down.

You stagger the ten kilometers back to Canto Bight in something resembling a fugue state. When you reach the resort, you sneak through the back entry port you and Andor left through and wind your way through the maze of service passages and elevators back to your suite.

You are as bedraggled looking as you are distraught and you are glad that the corridors are as deserted as they were when you departed. You don't feel you could negotiate your way out of anything right now, despite all your training.

Once you've climbed out of your damp and dirty clothes you fall into bed. Andor's absence beside you is a stark, raw reminder of what's just happened and you finally allow yourself to cry. Somehow, at some point, as you wallow in your anguish, fatigue takes over and you fall into a torrid sleep.

When you awake, it's still dark and you have the distinct impression that you're being watched. There's someone else in the room with you. You bolt upright and almost cry out as your eyes take in the silhouette of a person in the moonlight.

The ghost of Cassian Andor is standing at the foot of the bed.

Except he's not a spectre, you realise. His outline, though swaying, is solid. He's flesh and blood. He's alive.

Once you've recover from the initial shock, you don't think you've ever felt relief like it in your whole life. You leap up out of the bed and fly to him, just as he starts to crumple to the floor. You grab for him, but too weak to moderate his own movements, he drops like a stone and his momentum pulls you crashing down on top of him.

He's all sand and salt and seawater and he is shivering violently. His eyes are heavy, like he's struggling to keep them open. You touch his face and his skin ice cold. His clothes are wet through and you're suddenly struck by the urgency of the situation. You need to get him warm. Now.

With great effort, you manage to half drag, half shove Andor towards the shower room. He's so exhausted and disoriented that even this appears to be an insurmountable task for him.

When you finally get him there, you bundle him into the shower, fully clothed. He slumps against the wall as you turn the warm water on. You start peeling off the sodden, freezing layers of his clothing.

He hisses through his teeth as you remove what remains of his shredded shirt and you see that the skin on his torso and back is blossoming here and there in vibrant shades of black and blue. You're not surprised, a fall from that height, these are probably bruises from hitting the water hard. You try to be more gentle.

Once he's free of all his clothing, you slide down behind him so that you are against the wall, and he's sat between your legs with his back pressed against your torso. You guide him to bring his knees up to his chest and he wraps his arms around himself pliantly, curling into a tight ball. He's still shaking uncontrollably.

You ignore your own discomfort as the warm water plasters your nightdress to your body like a second skin.

Trying desperately to aid the shower in its work of returning some of his body heat to him, you rub his back, his arms, and his chest vigorously. Every so often he rests his head on the bridge he's created with his forearms across his knees and you have to coax him gently to sit up.

"Stay awake," you plead, "You need to stay awake for me."

Finally, his shivering subsides and you sit in exhausted silence as the warm water continues to pour over both of you. Your chin is resting on his shoulder.

"Cassian," you finally say into his ear, tucking a stray lock behind it as if that will allow him to heed your words better.

He leans back into you, tilting his head up towards your face, to show he is listening.

"I don't....I don't despise you, I don't..." you trail off, silent tears suddenly mingling with the spray from the shower as they start to fall from your eyes.

Slowly, Cassian turns to you. He rolls on to his knees, and sits upright on his heels. You mirror his movements so that you are face to face and your foreheads come to rest against each other's.

"I know," he whispers, bringing a hand to your cheek, his expression soft and full of tenderness, "I know that."

He trails a series of soft kisses down your face, touching his lips to your forehead, then to the tip of your nose, and finally down until they reach your own. You melt into him.

This kiss is not like the first you shared, hasty and hurried and fuelled by external forces. This is deep and languid and deliberate, as if you are the only two in existence and you have all the time in the Galaxy to spend in this moment.

One of Andor's hands tangles up in your wet hair, the other presses against the small of your back as if willing you closer to him. You can feel his urgency increasing now. His movements are definite and purposeful as he caresses and kisses your skin.

Selfishly, you want him to continue, need him to never stop. But you also know this might not be the wisest way for him to recover.

"Cassian..."

"You told me I need to stay awake," he argues as if he already knows what you're about to say, now tracing kisses along your collarbone, "I'm awake."

"This isn't exactly what I had in mind..." you protest weakly, but the breathy desire in your own voice betrays you.

"Liar," he mumbles as he nuzzles into your neck and you feel him grin against your skin.

The movement of his lips makes his short beard tickle your flesh and the feeling forces a raucous laugh from your chest. It's a loud, unrestrained, joyful sound.

Cassian pulls away to look at you, wearing an expression of wonder. You realise he's probably never heard you laugh like that before. In fact, you can't remember the last time you heard it yourself.

His eyes crease at the corners and dimples appear in his cheeks as he smiles widely at you. That smile, the one you realise you've adored all along. And this one is only for you.

"You're infuriating," you scold, but your voice is light and full of heady exhilaration.

You wrap yourself around him and kiss him hard, realising, finally, that it is impossible to deny yourself the joy of him any longer.

**********************************************

You and Andor step off the landing platform of the resort and up into his ship. K-2 wastes no time in piloting the vessel up and away from the city.

Compared to the sumptuous surroundings of Canto Bight, the interior of the ship looks admittedly a little dreary by comparison, but you won't miss life within those opulent walls. Not when you now know just how many of its inhabitants are within the insidious clutches of the Empire.

"Well, I hope you two behaved yourselves," K-2 greets you as you both enter the cockpit.

You and Cassian exchange a glance. He winks at you and you actually giggle, the internal glow of happiness you feel manifesting itself in an embarrassing little laugh.

"I'm taking that as a no," K-2 says, "Murdo will be pleased."

"Who the hell is Murdo?" Cassian asks and he drops into the pilot's chair beside his faithful droid.

[thelesbianpoirot]

"Astarion would be an anti-prostitution anti-porn advocate and pimp killer. "

THIS. In a realistic world, Astarion would never advocate for any of these things and would vehemently oppose them and kill every pimp out there. Can't believe this is a controversial take to have in the BG3 fandom. I've been interacting with the Astarion fandom for a while and it's mind boggling to me how many of his fans, after playing the game and romancing him, still think sex "work" is is like any other type of work as long as it's consensual…The writers may have put a positive spin on the brothel for fan service but even those who "work" there clearly don't do it because they woke up one day and said "you know, that's what I want to do", they were very much forced by circumstances.

It gets worse when they argue that taking Astarion, a former sex slave himself, to the brothel to have an orgy with him and the drows is a GOOD thing for him because it helps him figuring out what he likes and doesn't like in terms of sex, that him dissociating is simply something that happens with SA victims, and it only happened to him because he thought he could handle and enjoy the orgy…big yikes: they're essentially like we can heal his trauma of being prostituted by...taking him to brothels to have sex with prostitutes. His fandom should be studied lmao.

Astarion "advocacy" is my book is the pimp genocide. Astarion isn't a good person, partially because of his race, elves are usually elitist pricks, his situation made him self serving to survive (understandable) and he has enough trauma to lash out on a massive scale, i.e becoming a big bad ends justifies the means. And while he's massing power to protect himself, I would see him murdering pimps and having a strong anti-sexual exploitation position. "If you touch me you die." I don't think that makes him a good person, but like it'll be like the character of red hood, where you wonder where good direct action (killing child molester, drug kingpins and DV abusers) is just an expression of male violence. I would love to see Astarion's issues taken to extremes but we'd never see that, because this isn't the climate. I compare him to bioware fenris because fenris is not some robin hood altruistic character, but to protect himself from ever being enslaved again, all slavers have to die, I think Astarion would follow a similar mindset. I won't be free until all pimps are dead. If they can fanon, so can I, and in my fanon, he's super cool gay anti-hero, who doesn't want anyone's pussy. You're right fan service gets in the way of fully realizing a character. The fandom is crazy, they take a prostituted character with sex trauma to a brothel, indirectly saying being the John instead the prostitute will fix him, and when he gets a predictable reaction, disassociating, it is brushed off, and reasoned away, his fandom is really brain dead and have create so many mental justifications for their desire to fuck and sexualize a character that is so traumatized by sex that I think he'd be a genuine sex repulsed asexual for years until he has a long term loving partner. And the writers are cowards, they'll create an fairly accurate sex traumatized character, speed run his "healing" so people who romance him can still fuck him and still support prostitution!

[mermaidsirennikita]

ARC Review: Any Duke in a Storm by Amalie Howard

4.25/5. Releases 1/09/2023.

Vibes: romance on the high seas, badass heroines, ridiculously besotted heroes, and sword fight boners

Heat Index: 7/10.

Lady Lisbeth, countess, divorcee, and spy, is on the run. She's taken on the persona of Bonnie Bess, feared by all--except her new sailing master, the infuriating Raphael Saint. Problem one: Raphael may be a part of the smuggling ring Lisbeth is attempting to infiltrate. Problem two: she is, sadly, both extremely annoyed by and extremely attracted to him. Problem three: she may just have to rely on him if they're going to get away from the people pursuing her in one piece.

I was, to be honest, a little worried about how Amalie would pull this off. A lot of pirate-adjacent romances can get super fetishistic super fast. Plus, Raphael (who is of mixed-race ancestry) could easily dip into the Exotic Brown Man caricature. However, after I let her do her thing, I was pleasantly surprised with a romance that is both heartfelt and ridiculously sexy, with a solid dose of adventure. It's worth the risk!

Quick Takes:

--If you're a fan of "man falls first and harder" in romance... You'll love this. Lisbeth is a very guarded, icy heroine who's here to do a job and doesn't have time for nonsense. Raphael... is so naturally flirtatious, first off--but he's also much more in touch with his emotions and isn't afraid of letting Lisbeth know that he's interested. The sexual tension is THICK, but their banter and interplay is another huge part of the fun. They play off each other so well, and it all begins with a SWORDFIGHT!

--Raphael does bring a lot of humor to the story. In a lot of ways, he reminds me (and this is a compliment) of Prince Naveen from The Princess and The Frog? Like, he's very consciously leaning into being FRANCH, and he never misses an opportunity to hit on Lisbeth, but he also genuinely appreciates her talents and abilities and has a lot of really sweet moments.

He's also super secure in himself, which brings up another thing I loved about this. Raphael isn't by any means "feminine", and he definitely has several scenes wherein he takes a dominant role in his dynamic with Lisbeth. But he's also very comfortable with being, like... pretty. And delicate. He's a swashbuckler, but he'll also joke about wearing her blouses, and revel in the newfound possibilities of her taking control in the bedroom. There's a very "local man realizes he may have a bit of a submissive side and he's GOOD with it" vibe to it all.

--I don't usually like kids in romance, but here we have a legitimately good one! Lisbeth comes into the story familiar with Narina, a twelve-year-old girl whose mother she was friends with. Narina becomes a part of their adventures, and she's... fucking hilarious? Like, a foul-mouthed, snarky young girl who has a knack for piracy. And it's one of those things where Lisbeth is always like "DECORUM" because she's attempting to save this child's manners, and Raphael (who of course has an immediate affinity with Narina, NATURALLY) can't help but indulge her and encourage her wrongs. It's adorable, it makes him even hotter in a "doting father" kind of way and I loved the conclusion it reached.

--I'm really not an expert on this particular part of history, so correct me if my impression is wrong. But it felt like Howard made an effort to represent the unique interplay of cultures across the islands, as well as how one really isn't that different from the other. Raphael, as I mentioned, is French--but he's also of Indian and Creole descent. The novel doesn't delve too deeply into the complexities there, but you do get the sense from Raphael that he hasn't really fit into any of the boxes offered to him by nineteenth century society, as a French duke who isn't white and is very much his father's legitimate heir.

But I really appreciate seeing a book that really didn't take place in the ballroom, or ballroom adjacent, or really in England at all. You have a great sense of life at sea here, as well as some island-hopping, a detour to America, and so on. It offers a much bigger, grander world than a lot of conventional Victorian romances.

--There's a great emotional beating heart here, and you really feel Lisbeth falling for this man, essentially against her will, while he steadfastly waits for her to recognize her own feelings. It leads to a great culmination, and some truly swoony emotions.

The Sex:

Um, really good. I do want to call out that Lisbeth is pansexual, and the book doesn't shy away from that; one of the supporting characters is her ex-lover, and at one point another friend is outright like "oh wait, you like dudes too?" I loved that, and I loved that it's seriously not a big deal, just this known thing about her and her experiences.

But yeah. This shit is hot. There's not a huge emphasis on penetrative sex. Like it, happens, but there are a lot of other things that happen, and they do not feel any less like sex. (Including one scene that I don't want to spoil, but you don't see a lot of that exact configuration in historical romance, and..... it's so good.)

Raphael has piercing(s!) and tattoos, and Lisbeth's obsession with them is certainly incorporated. And like I mentioned earlier--there's some exploration of both of them discovering New Things about themselves together. Essentially, they both go into this believing they prefer to be dominant, and realize that they're both, perhaps... switch-y. This leads up to a scene towards the very end that delighted me Very Much. Put simply: the sex in this book is REALLY great.

Like I said, I was at first a little worried about how this one would turn out. However, I was ultimately really happy with where it went. Seeking a "woman and her overeager dangerous himbo go do piracy together" book? This is it.

Thanks to Netgalley and Sourcebooks Casablanca for providing me with a copy of this book. All thoughts and opinions are my own.

[lesvegas]

You know how TV program censorship often means that creators of animated shows need to find creative ways around those limitations to convey darker themes and romance, particularly queer romance? And how as a result the shows often use symbolism and subtext and inadvertently become greater than they would be if they were allowed to just be explicit?

The Revolutionary Girl Utena movie doesn't have to worry about being able to get away with nearly as many things as the show, and that's half the problem. It feels like it's beating viewers who didn't get the symbolism of the show over the head, which I have to assume is the main reason many Reddit users recommend the movie over the anime.

On top of that, the first hour or so mostly feels like either boring/worse recap of the show, or deeply uncomfortable. Bits and pieces of this first hour would do wonders as scenes in the show but on their own they're just off-putting but beautifully animated. The bit referencing Nanami and the various comedy relief felt incredibly mean-spirited, and a massive waste of potential; the movie wanted to give Touga more backstory yet completely wrote off his sister???

I think the only characters that didn't bore or annoy me or give me mixed feelings were Utena and Juri, because they were mostly unchanged. Anthy... I have a lot of mixed feelings about Anthy, and not just in the changes to her design. I can appreciate that she shows more agency here, but her personality screams "I'm addressing the criticism that she had no personality in the show except she did and you'd have to have not finished all 39 episodes to not realize that" and the fact that she's blatantly sexual is just super uncomfortable. It's not unbelievable that she would be taken advantage of as the Rose Bride (and she is in the show) but her being super sexual with Utena right after they meet, especially when she's the only character with darker skin, is... yeah. I definitely wouldn't have minded the two getting so close near the end of the movie but within the first 20 minutes??

Anyway my real controversial opinion is that the last 25 minutes, those last polarizing 25 minutes, were easily the best part of the whole movie. I think the first hour should have been condensed into 20ish minutes and the rest should have been a fucking racing car movie. The transformation sequence looks sick as hell and I love the idea of the characters being put in pairs (most already are) of drivers and cars. Racing for the Rose Bride... the Rose Ride, even. Rose Rider. Whatever.

Or the last 25 minutes could have been a filler-esque episode in the anime, ending with a reveal that the whole episode was actually a video game or something. Idk. It feels like a waste that it's contained to this movie. A lot of bits and pieces feel like they were wasted on this movie, actually.

Unless I'm given a good reason to, I don't think I'll watch it again. Honestly it left me feeling that episode 39 was enough of a conclusion, actually.

[brandwhorestarscream]

Playing extremely loose and fast with the established stuff here :D yes this was mostly to make Megatron suffer, but it was also inspired by the bound Queen in Aliens vs Predator.

So I was thinking, it starts with miners sent to look for energon. Instead, they find xenomorphs. The facehuggers proceed to do what facehuggers do, and amongst the afflicted miners, there is one named Terminus.

When the chestburster emerges, Terminus feels oddly attached to the little being, despite the mess it left his chest. Especially when it takes on a much more recognizable Cybertronian form. He names the little cybermorph Megatron, and for a time, things are as happy as they can get.

But the Senate has ears and eyes everywhere. They know what xenomorphs are, they've seen how the other cybermorphs react to Megatron, and they know what it means. So they take him.

The other cybermorphs aren't left alone. They get taken as well, and many mnemosurgeons sacrifice their needles in order to make them forget. And Megatron? Megatron is kept chained and drugged, rendered docile, and nothing more than the faintest presence in the Hivemind.

The way they knew this was through a particular cybermorph named Overlord. Overlord had always been... off. He'd cheerfully killed the miner he had emerged from, and as it turned out, while he was part of the Hivemind, he wasn't bound by it.

So, for the price of occasionally giving him some troublesome mechs to play with, he'd happily sire as many cybermorphs as the Senate could possibly want. Those he didn't get to play with were used as incubators, and the Senate thought this was an excellent solution.

With Megatron not exactly present in the Hivemind, the newborns imprinted on what could be considered their handlers instead.

Perhaps things would've continued on this way for a long time, but one day, a first-generation outlier cybermorph caught the faintest trace of a thought about a Queen.

This faintest hint drove Soundwave into an obsession to find out exactly what it meant, and when he finally found out, exactly how he was going to get his Queen free.

Ok I'm gonna take this opportunity to springboard and pivot. I really don't care for Overlord as a character (he's uninteresting at best, incredibly obnoxious and not in a charming way at worst), SO. If anything if gonna happen to him, it's gonna be this:

Phase Sixers don't exist in the traditional sense: Megatron never ordered their creation. So, if they ever come into existence it'll be as autobot weapons meant to counteract the cybermorphs, but that's not important

Hear me out: instead of Megatron being a captive (which... doesnt really work. There's no way to dampen the hive mind to the point that no one can hear/feel him unless he's dead), Overlord is made from Megatron. Samples gathered from blood spilled on the battlefield or maybe a raid on an abandoned nest or facehugger goo extracted from a rescued prisoner. Idk, something: the autobots (read: some crazy son of a glitch that definitely doesn't have Optimus's permission) have some of the queen's genetic material. They use it to make their own, twisted version, hoping to fight fire with fire

The thing they create is Overlord, mixed of Megatron's genome and maybe his so called 'handler'. They're very confused when, even after crossing the threshold into sexual maturity, he's not producing any eggs. They bring in captive incubators to try and kickstart his instincts. Nothing. They put him under anesthesia and quickly realize he can't lay eggs: they fucked up his genome somehow, and he's infertile. Instead, he's incredibly virile. The incubators they brought, instead of being impregnated via facehuggers, find themselves instead pinned under the half-broken "queen" and forced to take his spike after the handler pumps him full of aphrodisiac. Discord coined the teem "super transfluid": i.e. any partner he takes is guaranteed to concieve. The resulting morphlings have his accelerated growth rate and toe the line between drones and full mecha, and are proper parasites. Rather thsn being born the traditional way, they eat their way out of the gestation tank.

This is all I'm willing to give to Overlord. Take it or leave it

[roosterforme]

I get the feeling that Bradley never talks sexually about Baby Girl when he's with other pilots on deployments. You know, that typical "man's talk" where they talk about the sexual "qualities" of their partners. I think Bradley used to do that when he was having casual, non-committal sex with other women, but ever since he saw Baby Girl and knew he had to make her his girl, he never engaged in that kind of talk again. I get the impression that when those conversations happen in the deployments, Bradley leaves the room not wanting to tell those guys what BG is like in the bedroom. Because he doesn't want anyone to see his beautiful future wife and know that about her.

I think Rooster would be super pissed just imagining those guys thinking about BG naked because of intimate things he told them himself. I think it's in those moments when Bradley goes to his room and takes the opportunity to masturbate because he knows he's going to be alone for a while. PS: It also seems to me that Bradley in his deployments always takes a red thong of BG to masturbate in. What do you think Em?

(once again I would like our golden couple to be canonical).

I imagine that Bradley was never one to engage in too much of that kind of conversation. Sure, a little bit here and there, but it was more at the prompting of some of the other guys. He's a gentleman at his core, and he was always really respectful to women, even when he was just hooking up with them. No means no to him, and some things that happen in private are just sacred.

But in this regard, he definitely already treats BG like his wife, not just a girlfriend. No way he would divulge the details about how she gives him unprompted road head or how she cums almost instantly when he starts talking dirty. He might punch another guy just for thinking about her like that, knowing the other guy was imagining himself in Bradley's place. He got mad when Jake admitted in Boys Night In that he only asked BG out first to try to get in her pants. Bradley knows he's going to treat her better than anyone else ever could, and he wouldn't want anyone else sexually objectifying her like that. She's always been more than a potential play thing to him.

Bradley definitely jerks off to the dirty photos of her when he excuses himself, but he got in trouble the one time he took the red thong away with him. She couldn't find it anywhere when she was doing laundry, and then she realized he must have taken it. She called him out on it, because it's one of her favorites and didn't want it lost in the laundry room on the aircraft carrier! So she sent him with a different one after that.

[hchollym]

Is there any way Percy/Sirius could work?

Oh wow, interesting question!

Well first of all, all things are possible through fanfiction, so jot that down. 🤣 Seriously though, I personally love crack pairings, so if you want to write/read it, then go for it whether it works realistically or not! 😊

Now back to your question...

Could it work in canon? No. I can’t see a time/opportunity where it would make any sense for it to happen. 

Could it work in a canon divergence? It's possible. I do think both characters are bi/gay, so that’s not an issue. 

There are two main canon divergence scenarios that I could picture for these two to work out (not well, but we’ll get to that): 

Sirius doesn’t die (which would completely change the outcome of the books, but let's pretend it doesn't).

Percy sides with the Order and never disowns his family. 

I’m going to put the rest of the explanation under the cut, because this is your warning for sexual content.  

If everything stays the same in the books except that Sirius lives, then I can definitely picture Percy & Sirius finding comfort in each other after the war. 

They both lost a brother that they feel like they abandoned/failed (because Harry would have told Sirius about Regulus by that point); they both made mistakes and regret them; they both feel like they didn’t contribute enough to the war; and they are both highly traumatized and grieving. 

I don't think it would be a super healthy relationship; they would likely use each other to “cope” which would lead to some rough codependency issues mixed with excessive alcohol consumption (based on the fact that Sirius had taken to drinking in Book 5 & this post about Percy’s drinking), but that kind of stuff happens. 

But if they get together in an AU where Percy never leaves his family, then that’s going to be even more problematic.

I explained in this post that Percy & Sirius wouldn’t get along well platonically, so if they did get together romantically, then it would probably start as a one-night stand (fueled by alcohol and frustration). On the plus side, they would likely have an intense and passionate sex life. On the other hand, they would also argue all the time (it would almost become a type of foreplay) and drive each other mental. 

Their relationship would be rife with daddy issues (from Percy), incestuous undertones (Percy reminds Sirius of Regulus while Sirius probably reminds Percy of the twins/Bill in many ways), and jealousy (on Percy's part because Sirius fits in with the Order/Order members much easier than he does & on Sirius' part because Percy gets to live a relatively normal life and not be stuck inside the house all day).

It's also my headcanon that they are both in love with someone else (Percy with Oliver & Sirius with Remus), which could also be another factor that pushes them together (because they can’t have the person they really want), but it would definitely lead to more jealousy and mistrust, especially since they're both best friends with the other person they have feelings for. It would turn into one of those relationships where they’re constantly accusing each other of something and checking each other’s phones (figuratively speaking), and neither of them realize (or acknowledge) how hypocritical it is. 

It would be dysfunctional and toxic, and neither of them would be satisfied emotionally, but they’d probably be satisfied sexually, so that would be just enough for them to stay together longer than they should. 

To summarize, if they did get together in this AU, it would still be a dumpster fire (like their platonic dynamic), but they'd be having sex too, so yay? 🤷🤣

Like I said at the beginning though, fanfiction gives you the option to write whatever you want, and I'm sure there's a lot of very AU scenarios where they would work much better!

Thanks for the ask. 😊

[ailelie]

weird apartment magic/love potion

So this is what has been running through my head lately when not thinking about Nora's story.

It starts with two straight guys--juniors or seniors in undergrad--getting an apartment together for the school year. The apartment building is older--maybe even a three-flat conversion--but the rent is too good to pass up.

They're not super close, more friends-of-friends than anything. But both had wanted to live off campus and, during a single conversation, realized their study/sleep/cleanliness/etc habits lined up. (Basically, both were complaining about a shared friend and realized they could probably stand living together).

It starts when they begin sitting next to each other on the couch rather than at opposite ends. Then there's the actual leaning against each other (they refuse to call it cuddling). And then the absent-minded kiss on the way out the door.

None of their habits outside the apartment have changed. Inside, though, they are slowly growing more physical.

It does not take long for them to figure out that the apartment is doing something weird. It is like a contained, low-range love potion or something.

One moves out to stay on the couch of a shared friend, but they can't tell anyone why he's not sleeping at home. And the one left behind, to his utter mortification once he's a block from home, has taken to sleeping in the other's bed.

The other guy returns for some clothes thinking his roommate would be out, but he isn't and they crash together in a flurry of lips and skin. They end up napping together and the guy moves back in. They talk about it at a café and agree that it isn't fair for one to be dealing with all the effects. Plus, the absence made the feelings worse and harder to control.

After that, sharing a bed becomes commonplace. Also, something new starts happening. Whenever they're in the apartment, they find themselves sharing secrets and stories they don't usually tell. Their decision to face the apartment together has apparently unlocked some kind of emotional trust, a willingness to be vulnerable. And, while it is definitely strong within the apartment, the trust extends beyond those walls.

They start to investigate why it is happening (and also stop fighting it so much and even start leaning into it, letting the apartment take blame for their own curiosities and explorations. Other friends notice they're usually together and often sit a bit too close together. What started just within the apartment is starting to spread, but they're both very aware of what they're doing outside the apartment. Inside the apartment everything feels normal and natural. Outside the apartment is a choice and a choice they're starting to oh so slowly make).

And they figure out the architect left a diary that is held within their library's rare and old books section. So they get access and bent together over the book, they read. And the guy was basically just filled with longing he'd never acted upon. He designed houses as a way of sublimating his desires. He wanted to make places where fantasy could become fact.

But, over time, that had gotten twisted a bit in their apartment. It doesn't just facilitate desire--it creates it. They figure this all out. And, while no one else would think their proof enough, they have enough to satisfy themselves.

And if they're juniors, they decide to keep the apartment--knowing what it does and embracing that. Deciding to commit to an oddly begun relationship and use the apartment's magic to give them the bit of bravery they want and need at times. (No one else knows all their secrets, no one has seen them cry, no one else is so damned sexually compatible, etc).

And if they're seniors, they initially decide to go their separate ways. They aren't going to change their futures over an apartment's weird magic. One is going to med school. The other is jumping into a career. They don't tell each other anything about where they're applying or where they decide to go. Only after everything is set on both their parts do they reveal it to each other. And by some coincidence or the apartment striking again, they're both going to the same place. So they decide to live together again and commit to the relationship, but this time without any magic easing the way.

(Or they don't. And they live separately. But they ended up texting constantly and meeting up for meals and the various friends at their school and workplace think they're dating, but they aren't, at least not intentionally. But they know each other and meeting up to watch a game on TV turns into messy making out and leads to a conversation where one basically says--look, like it or not, I can't not have you in my life. If we cross that line again--if we cross it without weird apartment magic nudging us across--I don't think we can go back. If we do this, we're dating. You'd be my boyfriend. I will have a boyfriend. People will wants answers. We'll have to tell family. Either we're all in or we're just friends. ...and the other thinks, decides, and pulls his new boyfriend down for a kiss.)

[salvadoerena]

....... Im going to be embarrassing. Stenjames 1 through 10, and JamesAbel for 11-21 💕

Stenjames:

1. Who most initiates PDA?

James does, absolutely. That man cannot keep his hands to himself he's constantly grabbing Sten's arm/hand/waist and dragging him around everywhere.

2. Any sleep habits either had to get used to?

James drools. A lot. I doubt Sten was ready for waking up everyday as a wet t-shirt contestant. Also Sten big. James has to sleep on top of him, for survival purposes.

3. Hot and Steamy or Soft and Tender?

SOFT AND TENDER. AND ALSO KIND OF STEAMY.

4. How did they first meet?

sten slapped him with a fish

James just straight up walks into Sten's shop, steals something, and then decided to pay for it instead of threatening Sten with an island-wide boycott because he thought Sten was cute and, dare I say, ballsy to deny him his knick-knacks.

5. What is their love language?

These two cannot communicate clearly if their lives depended on it so they're like bower birds. Acts of service.....gift giving.....physical affection......Very much sending each other pictures "You" and turning the car AC down/up when they know the other's going to use it the next day.

6. When did they realize they loved each other?

Like, after three to five years of dating. In their defense, they only saw each other a grand total of like maybe 7 months during that time.

7. Who is more sentimental?

THAT'S HARD like the obvious choice is James. But honestly, I think it's Sten. He's very much house-husband "I miss my wife" sorta guy. James is too busy committing acts of terror and piracy on the Navy to focus on sentimentality.

8. What’s one way their personalities compliment one another?

James is super outgoing and charismatic so he drags Sten out to the taverns and parties and absorbs him into his circle of friends. Sten's more practical and pessimistic so honestly he keeps James from killing himself and also acting out various plans that will kill him.

9. How are their personalities different?

Have you ever heard of Bo Burnham's Left Brain, Right Brain? That's basically them.

10. What are some non-sexual activities they do together?

Look...........................James absolutely loves trying to teach Sten how to dance. It's his (secondary) life goal to get Sten to do a decent ceili or salsa before he dies. 

J2:

11. Which member is more physically affectionate?

Both! They're a menace to polite society!

Really tho, James is the cuddler and Abel's the idle hands wanderer.

12. Which member is more verbally affectionate?

Again, both, but in different ways. Abel kind of comes off as condescending because he's always shortening James' name to other nicknames/"be a doll" sort of quips, but James loves it. James is more "sweetheart"/"darling"/"dearest" and he really does his best to let Abel know how much he loves him (since his parents never did).

13. Which member steals borrows the other ones clothing?

James. Abel cannot fit in James' clothes for the life of him, but he HAS taken a crop top from time 2 time.

14. Are they an introverted couple or an extroverted one—AKA would they prefer to go out to a party or event together or would they rather stay in?

Oh extroverted absolutely. Naval parties were their FAVORITE they could gather gossip and then wander off and just talk trash about everyone (and GET trashed).

15. Who is more likely to make an impulsive decision and who is the voice of reason?

...........Sten.

But no really, if I HAD to pick one, I would say James was the more impulsive with Abel being more the voice of reason, but Abel is also extremely impulsive too. Unfortunately, he doesn't consider James a voice of reason.

16. Who stays up way too late and who tries to drag them to bed?

Abel. He's a #gamer and James has to physically sit in his lap and fall asleep before Abel decides it's bedtime. Even in canon, while James is an insomniac currently, he wasn't when he and Abel were together. Abel's insomnia was always present and just got worse when they broke up; he needs a warm body to snuggle up against before he can fall asleep.

17. Who fell in love first?

Hang on I need to go rewatch my animatic to remember.

Okay, I'm going to say Abel. James falls quickly, yes, but man if James wasn't the first person Abel actually felt seen by. He was probably head-over-heels for James before he even realized it and made a jerk of himself at first because of it, but like. He really did truly love him. He definitely proposed.

18. What song fits them perfectly?

Oh there could be so many. What era? What point of their relationship? Is Sten included in there?

19. How do they deal with being away from each other for a long time?

All out of Tears Z Berg for James @ Abel a few years after James defects.

Wildflowers Caged Animals for Abel @ James years after that when he sees James successfully out of the game.

Scorpio Autoheart for both of them tbh

Burn Down This City Felix Hagan & the Family

Wolves Selena Gomez and Marshmello

20. Who holds a grudge the longest?

They're both horrible people. Abel tho. Absolutely Abel.

21. Which of the two is quick to speak and which one is quick to listen?

NEITHER OF THEM LISTENS THAT'S WHY THEY BROKE UP THE FIRST TIME!! THEY'RE BOTH TOO UP THEIR OWN VERSIONS OF SELF RIGHTEOUSNESS THAT THEY CAN'T FATHOM A WORLD WHERE THEY'RE IN THE WRONG!!!!!!!! I'M CONSTANTLY HAUNTED BY THEIR POOR CHOICES AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!!!!!

[molsons112000]

So why couldn't I tell a girl 2 consume? When doing oral sex... Because it's something they have to do instinctively and willingly... But you say something in the bible made you do this no. Spilling the blood and spilling the body is a sin.... But I didn't realize this until much later.... Thinking back on it. It didn't come to me until I was say fifty..... One girl who spit and another girl who said you're not putting that disgusting stuff in my mouth offended me. In both situations, they were the ones that pursued the situation. Then I didn't say they had to... But they offered these me these words of saying that I'm filthy.... This is why I was offended saying that I was unclean. Unholy.... They didn't have to curse me.....

La Vista Church of Christ

https://www.lavistachurchofchrist.org › ...

Doesn't the Bible say “It is better for you to plant your seed in the belly ...

Jul 8, 2015 — ... book, chapter, or verse, but the Bible does say that it is better for you to plant your seed in the belly of a whore than to cast (or spill

My x used to offer me if she'd do anything I wanted sexually. As much as I wanted to tell her I couldn't, it was a choice she had to make for herself. And I had to accept the choice..... This is the point about the education....

Now the answer they say in Cosmopolitan is yes, consuming semen can help women live longer... So yes, it's a positive that can add to women's longevity... Now, this takes into account that the partner you're dealing with doesn't have any sexually transmitted diseases..... So it's taken a given that that person can't give you any kind of communicable disease..... So yes, if they can transmit disease to you, then no, it's not beneficial.... And the males with the most sexually transmitted disease are blacks and Hispanics... So if you're a black female and a Hispanic female and you're dealing with your male counterpart, don't you have to be more careful like my friend Kimmy... She was a black female, and she constantly got checked for sexually transmitted diseases..... Why isn't that happening with black and Hispanic females, forcing black and Hispanic males to clean themselves up..... So this is why I mentioned so much to sex workers? Because they don't want to catch diseases and they're in a profession that if they catch diseases, their career ends... So shouldn't they understand who to be even super safer with? It would only make sense because a higher percentage, a higher percentage possibility that you're going to catch somebody with these negativities... And then I published the article where certain men were wanting to give women sexually transmitted diseases. And they probably did this to sex workers as well.....

Cosmopolitan

https://www.cosmopolitan.com › s...

Could Consuming Semen Make You Live Longer?

Nov 17, 2016 — And while, yes, there is protein in semen, given that there's also fewer than one calorie in a typical ejaculation, it's not much — and no skin ...

And so men who partake in these actions tend to partake in more risky forms of sexual interaction.... Enhance people in this industry must be very protective, so they don't catch an asexually transmitted disease... When I was with my ex. Jen? I always got myself checked on a regular basis, even knowing that I was fully committed and wasn't straying, but I wanted to be doubly cautious... So I took great caution in making sure that even if I got it accidentally I would never infect her. That's called love!!!!!

Men who pay for sex are at higher risk of acquiring STIs even after considering other key STI risk behaviours. Having paid partners may not directly increase men's STI risk, but may rather be a marker for men who are likely to partake in other sexual risk behaviours.Nov 17, 2014

https://sti.bmj.com › content

The prevalence of, and factors associated with, paying for sex ...

The number one way is to lower sex Partners and with that goes, just be heterosexual... So if you do these 2 things limit your sexual Partners and are heterosexual. Purely, then you put yourself in a very safe place... So it doesn't mean you can't go to the strip bar weather? They have some clothes or no clothes... But the point is doing things correctly....

Sutter Health

https://www.sutterhealth.org › pro...

Protect Yourself Against STDs

Create a Safer-Sex Strategy. Condoms, used correctly and every time you have sex, lower risk for all STDs (though skin contact even with a condom can transfer ...

ACOG

https://www.acog.org › faqs › ho...

How to Prevent Sexually Transmitted Infections (STIs)

Use a latex or polyurethane condom—Using a latex or polyurethane condom every time you have vaginal, oral, or anal sex reduces the risk of

Yes, this is true with apple cider, and vinegar. And your genitalia, that it will cause irritation Or a chemical burn

Apple cider vinegar may have antibacterial properties, but they're not strong enough to fight a serious bacterial infection like chlamydia. Never put apple cider vinegar on, in, or around your genitals since it can cause internal and external chemical burns.Oct 3, 2022

https://www.verywellhealth.com › ...

Home Remedies for Chlamydia: Why Antibiotics Are Best

So before sex taking oregano oil is a good thing because it helps with blood flow. But secondarily, it helps prevent infection and then taking it after sex again. This is another way to prevent the colonization of infection...

National Institutes of Health (NIH) (.gov)

https://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov › P...

Oregano Oil and Its Principal Component, Carvacrol, Inhibit ...

by S Mediouni · 2020 · Cited by 44 — Our results show that oregano oil potently inhibits HIV-1 cell fusion, and this activity is mainly due to carvacrol

National Institutes of Health (NIH) (.gov)

https://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov › P...

Evaluation of Marjoram Leaves (Oregano vulgar) as Feed ...

2022 — These findings show that using fresh leaves of Oregano vulgar improved the sexual efficiency of pollinated rams and maintained the