#even if there is no one who is truly unforgivably in the wrong

[thatswhatsushesaid]

i think most of my wwx opinions are unpopular outside of my little patch in this fandom, but i genuinely do believe that post-canon wwx and jc are just better off being out of each other’s lives as much as possible, crossing paths only out of necessity for jin ling.

sometimes when the wounds cut deeply enough, even if none of those wounds were inflicted intentionally or maliciously, it doesn’t matter how much you loved your family member, how much you sacrificed for them, or how much they sacrificed for you. your presence in each other’s lives just aggravates those injuries and prevents them from healing, and maybe the kindest thing you can do for each other is to just leave each other alone.

[dilfartist]

A foolish endeavor

Pairing; Yandere Miguel O’hara x reader

Synopsis; You manage to snag Miguel’s gizmo and escape to another universe. How long will it take before he, or the spider society, find you?

Word count; 2.8k

Reader description; Female/GN

TW; kidnapping, probably terrible spanish (i did use sources Spanish-speaking users suggested), non-con touching, yandere themes, dark writing.

Notes; {if i mistranslated any of the spanish please do contact me in my DMs. I wanted this fic to be better but I hope you enjoy it anyway. Did not proofread.}

Midnight coated New York in a dark blue hue. Most nights the city lights illuminate the darkness, providing the ability to see. However, the motel you find yourself ambling to is the more isolated part of the city.

Rain poured down heavily, producing cacophonous echoes of raindrops slamming against the concrete. Clad in a drenched hoodie and damp black yoga pants, you scurry to the other side of the street just in time to avoid being hit by the passing truck.

Cigarette smoke and frigid rain overwhelm your senses, mainly due to the cigarette buds scattered on the motel parking lot.

The motel is okay looking. By no means does it look nice, but it isn’t a hard no.

“Guess this is where I’ll sleep tonight,” you mumble to yourself. You take a brief glance at your surroundings. Night overcame the sky, giving the atmosphere a dark hue but the lights gave you a clear standpoint.

Numerous lights hummed irritatingly, not even a minute passed and you found yourself obtaining a headache. You navigate the main office, which is on the left side of the horseshoe-shaped building, and a blue neon sign points in the direction of the office. You started sauntering over, putting pep in your step when the cold rain declined heavier than it did the last five minutes.

Six months ago, you wouldn’t be having this problem. At least that’s what you believed. You could’ve been at your apartment, catching up on a show you’ve failed to complete thanks to your busy work schedule.

Unfortunately for you, doing a task as simple as watching your television, in your home, was truly impossible. Why? Because the earth you roam isn’t yours, to begin with. Your apartment isn’t yours. The job you work isn’t yours. You aren’t certain you even exist in this universe.

You can’t find the strength to complain. Honestly, you’re delighted to be away from the man who stole you away from society.

Miguel O’Hara.

Otherwise known as Spiderman 2099. You know, the superhero.

It must be confusing to hear that a superhero kidnaped a poor civilian. Superheros don’t normally commit unforgivable acts. Regardless, Miguel didn't care. Miguel is aware he is different from other heroes given his beliefs. Abducting you was just one of the many wrongs Miguel fulfilled.

You just wished you knew his motives at the beginning. If you did, you wouldn't have to search for sanctuary. You wouldn't have to lie low in a different universe.

Before Miguel, you lived a decent life that included a decent job. It was a Tuesday afternoon with sunny weather and clear skies. Your friends invited you to a picnic at the park and, for once having a clear schedule you agreed. You recall the sun beaming down on you, overheating your body to the point shade was a necessity. You moved from the picnic blanket to a nearby bent tree. One moment you're enjoying the shade, the next you're falling. Then something transpired. You jerked in the air, something white clinging to the front of your shirt. You felt your body floating in the air, legs thrashing in fear when your body conceded it was in mid-air.

You must have fainted because you have no recollection of what transpired next. What you do remember was watching through bleary eyes as four strangers hovered over you clearly disputing. Currently, you know them by Jessica Drew, Peter B. Parker, the iron spider, And Miguel O’Hara.

The accountability for your well-being somehow landed in the hands of Miguel. In the beginning, Miguel had such a short patience for you, not that he didn't possess an attitude with anyone else, he just happened to have a really short fuse with you.

His explosive temper with you was undeserving. You hardly gave him any reason to blow up. Your presence alone just pissed him off, at least it appeared so.

You avoided him as much as possible; Departing a room when he entered. Ensuring any errands were accomplished before he arrived home, so you didn't have to leave your room to aggravate him.

Then he began to seek you out; popping up wherever you were in his apartment. Alone watching television on the couch? Not anymore. Miguel joined you on the other side silently watching as well. Sitting silently in the dining room eating lunch? Miguel enters with a bowl of cereal, starting a conversation about the day’s news. Enjoy video games and decide to play by yourself? Miguel grabs a controller and questions the rules and certain controls.

For someone who was as snappy at you as a feral dog, he sure did like to invade your solitude.

By the second month of staying at Miguel’s, he found solace in your presence. He became relaxed. Nice even. And then by the fourth month, you became friends. You never visualized being anything other than friends, but unbeknownst to you, Miguel did.

When you first caught the news of Peter figuring out what universe you belonged to, you were ecstatic. After all, the mystery of your universe's number had been the sole reason for crashing with Miguel and not immediately returning home.

You turned to Miguel, asking when was the appropriate time to drop you off. To your astonishment, Miguel’s brows furrowed, and his lips morphed into a grimace, “you will not be returning.” he affirmed.

Miguel shocked not only you, but everyone witnessing the scene. A gauche silence conquered the atmosphere.

You and Miguel stared at each other for a beat, then you voiced your perplexity. “What do you mean “I will not be returning?” Miguel, I need to go home.” you took a step closer to Miguel.

Miguel gazed at you with an uninterested stare. “What I say goes, (Name). And I say you're staying here.” he spun around, returning to whatever he had been working on before. “We all have a busy schedule and dropping you off will only alter it.”

“It’s not worth it,” he said like he was ending the conversation.

“Okay, then Peter can take me home when he needs to drop off Mayday.” you insisted, looking over at Peter to see if he’d be alright with your plan.

No expression was needed for you to catch on to the attitude Miguel began to gain. “(Name), I won’t tell you twice. The answer is no. Now, Peter take her back to my apartment. We’ll speak about the matter later, at the moment there are more important issues happening.”

You found it laughable. To think the minute you stepped into the man's sight he wanted you gone, but now Miguel was fighting you to stay with him. Ironic, isn’t it?

That night you and Miguel, the very moment he came inside his apartment, quarreled for an hour in a half. Your argument being you did not belong to him and could do whatever you pleased. Miguel’s argument was the insignificance of the matter to him.

You detected Miguel’s temper was starting to get out of hand. The way his fists began to clench, the way his brows creased, and the frown deepened after every sentence he uttered. You’ve seen his strength. His fierceness. And you’d rather leave than have any of his tantrums directed at you. Doing what any rational person would do, you attempted to leave the room. You advised him to de-stress before speaking to you again.

Miguel was having none of it. Not even a second passed before you were yanked back by the forearm.

You’re face-to-face with Miguel. Miguel towered over you, looking down at you with his signature red piercing stare. He bends down, momentarily staring at you until he finally speaks. “I can't allow you to leave.” The way he talks is low and if the room weren't already quiet, you wouldn’t have heard him. “I love you,” he confessed, voice cracking, closing his eyes as if it pained him to say it. He opened his eyes again. “And I won't allow myself to lose any other person I care for.”

Pulling twenty dollars out of the torn-up wallet you found on the side of the road, you slide it forward on the mahogany brown table. The fatigued receptionist glances at the money, then gazes at you with an irked expression.

“This isn’t enough.” She states matter-of-factly. She slides the twenty back to you.

You purse your lips, staring down at the cash. Twenty dollars is all you had. What were you to do now? The next nearest motel could be miles away; it was a miracle you made it to this.

Your eyes flicker back to her. You take two fingers pushing it back to her, giving her your best puppy eyes. “Please! I don't have anywhere else to go tonight. If I can’t stay here I’ll have to sleep on the streets.”

You were lying. You would’ve taken off by dawn, needing to be on the move after getting rested.

Her hardened expression softens. She takes a deep breath, eyes studying the money. Shaking her head, she takes the cash. “One night only, alright?”

You propose to her a smile, nodding with gratitude. She allotted you a key. A small golden-greenish key, with the number five engraved on the head. Tonight you’d sleep on the grounded floor of the motel.

The inside was decently prepared, having a dingy tone that gave off a haunted vibe. You hum in displeasure. Two queen-sized mattresses are positioned on the right side of the wall. They appeared stiff, and the blankets laying upon them looked thinner than a sheet of paper.

Sighing, you softly booted the door shut. Flopping down on the nearest bed, you groan at the sensation of the rough mattress.

When tomorrow comes you’d have to find a fresh location. Miguel could continually find your locale, thanks to not only Lyla but the whole Spider society. Perhaps you postponed his search this time. His watch or gizmo- whatever the hell it was- rests on your wrist.

Shifting your head to the side, pulling your hand out of your pocket, you glance at the gizmo.

Tightly clutched in Miguel’s hold, you stare quietly at the ceiling. You debate acting on your next actions. There were times Miguel slept lightly, aroused by creaks in the floorboard. Other times when the sound of glass shattering did not bother him even a little.

Glancing down at the arm wrapped securely around your midriff, you endeavor to gradually lift his arm up. He unconsciously retaliates, arms consolidating, resulting in a small gasp slipping from your lips. You’re quick to rub his arm, to offer him comfort, and to calm him.

It works. Miguel grumbles, his grasp faulting. You carefully move his arm aside, then unhurriedly get up from the bed.

Before leaving the room you observe Miguel. Miguel sleeps soundly, an angry expression inscribed on his face. But he is asleep, so you take your chance while you are able.

Tiptoeing into the kitchen, you immediately spot the gizmo on the marble counter. Compared to the technology you have at home, it was top-notched, a huge improvement. Of course, he lived in the year 2099. Obviously, there would be a difference in technology.

You grabbed the gizmo, examining the complexity. From monitoring the spider people using them, you know it’ll take you wherever universe you request. Great. However, you weren’t a spider person. If you teleported in the middle of the air, you couldn't grapple on the closest object with a web. Or claw your way down a building

Fuck it.

If dying meant escaping him, then so be it.

You didn’t really mean that. Every time you went to teleport to a different universe, you cringed retreating your hand.

“Jesus! Alright, I'm doing this!” you softly berated yourself. Bracing for the impact of the possible fall you might face, you shut your eyes tight and twisted the gizmo. “Please be on the ground, Please be on the ground, Please be on the ground!” you cried.

How long would it take them to find you? How far could you get?

God, being on the run was stressful.

Your eyes flutter closed, plush pillows luling your tired mind. ‘I should get some sleep’ you thought. Warmth spread throughout your numbing body, as you finally permitted yourself to sleep.

When you awake gasping for air, almost as if you’d been suffocating. Instantly you arise, a hand rushing to your chest confirming it still thumped with a beating heart. Your skin is sticky with cold sweat, making your clothes uncomfortably cling to your body. “What the fuck?” you barely uttered, mouth arid.

Suddenly you had a gut feeling to check the window. You stand, groggily walking toward the large window adjacent to the front door. Pinching the hem of the curtain, you haul it aside.

The night is still pristine, the stars glowing in the dark sky. Nothing seems out of place. And yet you continue to have that gut feeling. Look outside, there’s something outside. Your eyes move to the parking lot.

You see it.

Blue and red. Something blue and red is making its way toward the motel. Squinting, you can make out what it is. Miguel. It's Miguel!

“Oh, shit!” you expressed, dropping the curtain. Wasting no time you locked the bottom and top locks. You veered around, frantically searching for a place to hide. You are no fool. Locking the door was simply a distraction; Miguel would tear the door off its hinges in a second.

Hiding underneath the bed is a childish strategy. That and hiding underneath the covers. Still, you drop to your knees, squeezing underneath the bed, using the blankets to cover any spaces revealing you. Pressing the palm of your hand against both your mouth and nose, you listen closely to everything around you.

At first, all you hear is the air conditioning blowing cool air, and the people next door’s baby weeping. Then you hear it. The doorknob oscillation. Your eyes widen, fear causing your breath to hitch. When the door refuses to open, the person behind the door commences kicking in the door. One kick achieves them access to the room. The door slams against the wall, shaking the ground, sending a vibration under you.

“¿Qué carajo?” you know that voice anywhere. It’s Miguel speaking in his native language. A habit Miguel has when he’s angered or stressed. “¿Dónde está ella?” Miguel snaps, striding into the room with anger-powered steps.

You can see through the tiny slit in the blankets, Miguel turning to the table where you placed the gizmo. Miguel picks up the gizmo, putting it back on his wrist.

He shifts his concentration to finding you. He calls out your name, malice dripping from the way he shouts it. He disappears from sight, presumingly moving on to the bathroom. Many things are heard being tossed around. Miguel probably was looking for evidence of you staying here, apart from the gizmo.

You gather the courage to, oh, so carefully stretch your leg out, then proceed to quietly shuffle from under the bed. You waste no time, rushing out the door, feet bare without socks or shoes. The gravel burns the soles of your feet, scraping and imprinting on the skin.

You practically succeeded in leaving the lot until you caught a glimpse of what stalked behind you. On all fours, Miguel sprinted at you, claws scuffing the concrete, like a predator running after its prey.

“Holy shit! What the actual fuck!” you panic aloud, taking your eye off what was in front of you, your mind solely focusing on the man hunting you. Big mistake on your part. A concrete parking block is in your way, but you don’t see it. You jolt forward, tripping over the block, your other foot catching you before you hit the road.

Just when you thought you still had the chance of running away, you’re sorely mistaken. Miguel pounces on you, and the clash of your bodies colliding results in Miguel tumbling down the road, you secure in his arms.

The tumble ends; you’re struggling not to vomit, head resting on Miguel’s firm chest. The world spins. It’s easy to forget your position when the urge to throw up is fresh.

Miguel holds your head, pressing a myriad of kisses on every part of the skin visible, muttering with his eyes closed. “Gracias a Dios que estás bien.” He sounds so frantic, reciting those same words, his tongue stumbling over the utterances.

His eyelids raise, uncovering his red orbs. He presses his forehead against yours, staring deeply into your eyes. It’s a domestic stunt that makes your stomach churn. “Debería estar furioso contigo, pero no lo estoy.” he huffs, then continues, “I’m happy you’re alright. I don’t know what I'd do if I lost you, mi alma.”

Taking your hand, he places a soft kiss on the back. “Had an anomaly harmed you, I would have ripped their fucking throat out!”

————————

Translations

- “¿Qué carajo?”/ what the fuck?

- “¿Dónde está ella?”/ where is she?

- “Debería estar furioso contigo, pero no lo estoy.”/ I should be furious with you, but I'm not.

- “Gracias a Dios que estás bien.”/ thank god you’re okay.

- mi alma/ my soul

[sugojosgf]

not so nice! nanami req can you write reader using the safe word with him ????

say the word baby, its alright !

﹒ nanami ﹕☆ ﹟ fem · prns ㅤ࣭ ㅤׂ : ᯓ cw : dēgrādatīon , smūt , mentions of SA ! ﹐

sometimes it's a little too much and nanami always understands

nanami loves being a little rough w you, a little condescending. he loves to see tears collecting on your lash line just so he can kiss them away and hold you close. he knows that you enjoy this dynamic too, that you enjoy being treated like this ,,, you've said so multiple times.

but sometimes he can go overboard.

like this time, where kento has you in a mean mating press, your legs on his shoulder shaking as he thrusts deeper into you, you can feel him all the way up to your throat — so full of him. you feel like your cervix might bruise the way he pulls back and pushes in, a single thrust knocking the wind out of you.

"k-kento! s'too much—" you sob, mind far gone, "—please, just a mo-ment!" you whine, pulling him close and muffling your cries on his shoulder.

he doesn't stop, his cock filling you up with an unforgiving pace. you already had cum on his fingers once and you could feel your second orgasm of the night approaching.

"fuck! just take it—" he grunts, groaning in your ear, "that's all you are good for yeah? fuck, don't you dare cum right now, filthy slut—"

your eyes widen, even though you usually wouldn't be surprised,,,you loved it when he talked to you like this.

something about being catcalled on your way to work and then being hit on by your manager made his words seem real.

it made you feel like, you truly were only good for this.

"k-kento?" you say, nails digging deep into his muscles, "—i can't!" you are barely able to complete your sentence when his thumb begins to play with your clit, broken moans bouncing off the walls.

"shut the fuck up and take it like the whore you are —" he moans as he pushes in deeper than possible.

"kento! stop... red! no more—" you yell out finally, tears spilling out of your pretty eyes, your hands tapping thrice on his shoulder.

it takes nanami a moment to register what was going on, and he almost immediately pulls out. he looks at you, eyes confused but affectionate.

"my sweet girl... i am so so sorry" he whispers, "what's wrong baby? was that t' much?" he sits on the bed and pulls you onto his lap, peppering soft kisses on your face.

he sees you struggling to answer and immediately silences you with a kiss.

"you don't need to answer, my love. take your time baby, let's get you cleaned up now." he carries you to the shower and holds you as he cleans you up.

"my girl's the prettiest, love you so much sweetheart.,,," he says while he dries you with a soft towel, dressing you in your favourite tshirt of his.

he makes sure to kiss you everywhere, and tells you how much he loves you.

"sorry k-kento, just had a really bad day, i thought if you just treated me like usual, everything would be fine." his eyes mist over.

"oh...pretty, whenever you have a bad day, you need to tell me. that's what im here for, here for you,,." he leans over to kiss you softly, lips lingering.

"let's watch grey's while we eat some leftovers, and after that if you want, we can talk about your day."

you smile at him, knowing you lucked out with love when he held you again.

bonus <3:

not so nice! nanami who tracks down the man who had cat called you with the help of his connections and makes sure he is never able to talk again.

not so nice! nanami who gets the HR immediately involved and gets that manager blacklisted so no one can hurt his pretty girl again.

[fangswbenefits]

The Arrangement (4) - Solution

Chapter summary: Wyll comes bearing a solution to your predicament with Astarion... what could possibly go wrong?

Pairing: Astarion x female!Tav

Word count: 3.5k

Previous chapter . Series Masterlist . Ao3

Snow.

Why was it snowing in Baldur's Gate this time of the year?

It didn't make any sense whatsoever.

But there was no denying it when the cold yet tender caresses of snowflakes began to spread  across the swell of your cheeks.

A distant voice was calling out to you, but you could only smile blissfully at the warm embrace of its familiarity. 

It was as the winter sun that insisted on tearing through storm clouds rolling over the majestic Baldurian mountains: powerful enough to melt the frost away, and unforgiving once its rays shined out the brightest.

The faint scent of bergamot laced with rosemary surrounded you like a soft blanket.

You did recognise that scent… and your  smile immediately dropped.

The voice got louder and louder, but your feet were now moving on their own until you were at the edge of a cliff.

Then you plummeted without looking back. 

An agonising scream reverberated through your mind like a knife in the dark, twisting and prodding until you jolted awake at once.

Your eyes snapped open and you saw Astarion's face first and felt his icy fingers on your face next.

As a surge of panic and dread took over, you instinctively slapped his hand away.

“What are you doing?”

“You were squirming and screaming.”

You quickly propped yourself on your elbows, realising he sat at your feet, brows furrowed and an unreadable look on his face. 

Another nightmare? But it hadn't started off like that. They rarely did. 

As your eyes roamed along the length of your body, it dawned on you that his scent had made it all the way to your subconscious because his cloak was now covering you.

Noticing your realisation, he cleared his throat. “You were shivering in your sleep. You humans can be so… frail.”

You wish you could hate him. You truly wish you could loathe him with your entire being, especially after your earlier exchange.

It would make it so much easier to overcome the longing feelings you had for him.

But, it would seem, he was bent on making it harder for you and this bond wasn't easily severed on a whim.

Instinctively, you pulled the fabric of his cloak snuggly around your neck as if it would be enough to keep him at bay.

“I would have offered my body heat, if I had any left,” he said with a shrug, pulling one knee up against his chest. 

Right.

Vampire.

No body heat unless he was well fed.

“Did I… say anything?”

The last thing you needed right now was for your subconscious to betray you by having you mumble out his name in a suggestive manner.

The faintest smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “Hard to make out anything intelligible in the midst of all the grunts and moans.”

“Good.”

Hold on… grunts and… moans?

“Oh please, don't look so horrified,” he said with a click of his tongue. “A much welcome distraction considering how tedious it's been in here.”

Typical.

A scowl settled on your face as you shifted across the mattress, pulling your knees up together and increasing the distance between you two.

The faint earthy and citrusy scent of bergamot enveloped you, and your eyes fluttered shut.

For someone who was bound to live in the shadows and prowl the streets after the sun went down, Astarion surely carried the fragrance that resembled Summer days the most.

You didn't feel cold even in this damp-filled cell. 

It wasn't even related to the cloak itself, as it wasn't thick enough to make much of a difference.

No.

It was purely an unavoidable consequence of being near him.

Even in his icy coldness, Astarion brought out warmth that would put the most fierce of flames pale in comparison.

“What's on your mind?” 

His purring voice snapped you from your thoughts, and you blinked the tiredness away, ignoring his question. “What time is it?”

“Judging from how the guards are way past the threshold of sobriety… my guess is that it's close to midday.”

You slowly dragged yourself up into a sitting position, heaving a deep sigh. “I just want to get out of here.”

“Well, we can.”

“Astarion.”

He turned his head to you. “What? You are a powerful sorcerer. They wouldn't stand a chance.”

It was a proper observation, and it surely wasn't an attempt at stroking your ego. He had seen enough of your abilities to know you could have metal melt if you so desired.

But still… “I'm sure Wyll will come soon.”

He let out a sound of pure discontent. “Yes. Your prince charming shall be here soon to save the day.”

You simply ignored him.

And Astarion hated being ignored.

So, naturally, he made sure he had your attention.

“I would just like to point out that–”

His voice died in your ears as the sound of steady paces echoed across the halls with salutes being exchanged.

You immediately lunged forward, leaving his cloak behind before pressing your face against the bars and gripping them tightly.

“Excuse me? I was talking to you.”

Astarion's outrage would have to be put on hold for the time being.

You recognised that voice and that level of respect mimicked by the guards outside.

“Wyll!”

Astarion joined your side in an instant, as the Grand Duke came into sight.

His face was heavy and he didn't bear a reassuring smile. It was such a foreign look on him, it gave you whiplash.

Your hopeful smile eventually dropped as he approached you.

“My friends, what an unfortunate turn of events.”

He placed one hand atop yours and you nodded eagerly. “Please. We are not guilty of whatever they are accusing us of.”

His young face eased slightly. “So you haven't committed any crime?”

“That's the general definition,” Astarion chimed him, visibly annoyed. 

“Why am I not surprised you are involved in this?” Wyll retorted, but his words – unlike Astarion's – held no ill-intent. 

“Oh, I thought you were aware that I'm the root of all evil in Baldur's Gate?” he said, voice dripping with cutthroat sarcasm. “Your psychic powers must be below par as of late, Wyll.”

You shot him a death glare, wanting nothing more than to cast Silence on him.

However, Wyll let out a loud and heartfelt laughter that had the other prisoners whine and rattle against the bars of their enclosure.

“Charming as always – even under such dire circumstances.”

Astarion's lips held the fakest smile ever. “Glad I could be of entertainment.”

“Especially considering that I'm most likely your only way out of this.” Wyll said in a tone that prickled the hair at the nape of your neck.

Great.

Astarion and his never-ending ability to annoy people beyond oblivion.

“Yes, I'm sure Circus of the Last Days is one clown short,” you said maliciously, side-eyeing him. “Maybe he'd prefer it over there.”

He dreaded clowns in a way that was almost comical, and your remark was enough to silence him at once, but not without having him shoot daggers with his intense stare.

Wyll cleared his throat, his eyes fixed on you.  “Listen. I believe in your innocence, my friend.”

Your heart soared high. 

“However…”

Ah, yes. There was always an inconvenient ‘however’ somewhere.

“I must look into this matter further, as the Council of Four demands. If it were solely up to me, I would have you out of here right now.”

Your heart plummeted to the ground at once.

“But it is up to you. You have the final word,” Astarion pointed out.

“Be it as it may, I cannot favour acquaintances when an alleged crime is committed.”

Astarion scoffed. “Demoting us from friends to acquaintances in under thirty seconds. My, my… and you worried I was the power-hungry one of the group.”

Wyll placed his hand on your shoulder and you glared intensely at him. “Give me a few hours, and I will see to it that you get out of here.”

He wasn't being deceitful in the slightest. Wyll's sense of righteousness and moral compass were nearly always fine tuned. 

Besides, you had nothing to fear.

Justice was on your side.

But there was clearly someone out there who wasn't, and that made your skin crawl.

Which begged the question… “Why do you believe in our innocence? I mean… I was expecting an interrogation at the very least.”

He gave you a sincere smile of affection. “My dear friend, I know you well enough to doubt your words. This crime doesn't suit you. Besides, across those weeks together, I was able to find hope where there was none. You joined forces with the unlikeliest of allies and turned on potential ones to help us all out – to help Baldur's Gate.”

A looming sense of discomfort was brewing deep inside as his words hit you.

It wasn't so much that he was exaggerating or singing praises that you were undeserving of, but you would have never made it that far on your own.

Not without him.

Or even without Astarion.

“This city is indebted to you,” he went on, giving your shoulder a gentle squeeze. “I am sure this misunderstanding will be resolved soon, but I'm afraid protocols and bureaucracy must still be addressed properly.”

You reluctantly nodded, knowing deep down that he was right.

His position was one that came with great responsibility, and it would be folly of him to not act in accordance to what was expected of him as Grand Duke.

“If you wish, I could have you moved to an overground cell – just in case Astarion is being too overbearing,” he quickly added.

“No, no. I reckon I can withstand a few more hours in his presence before losing my sanity,” you chuckled at him.

“You do know I can hear you, don't you?” Astarion said with a dramatic roll of his eyes. 

“I shall have some fruit sent over.”

“Thank you.”

He nodded and turned his head to Astarion. “Is there anything I can get you?”

“Yes, you can get me out of here.”

Wyll pursed his lips firmly together.

You hit with a ‘be nice’ scowl, which had him heave a deep sigh. “Alright, alright. I don't require any blood just yet. Our dear friend was kind enough to let me feed on her a few days ago.”

“Right.”

Wyll wasn't amused in the slightest and you couldn't blame him. It wasn't an ideal arrangement, and he was a monster hunter at heart, which only fueled his dislike for Astarion boasting about it.

With a final nod, he took his leave even as prisoners banged on the bars of their cells in a failed attempt at taunting him.

Once again, you pressed your forehead against the bars. “We're getting out of here soon.”

Astarion was leaning on his side against the door, eyeing you. “You know, darling… I do wonder if you're trying to convince me or yourself at this point.”

You didn't reply.

But it was probably both.

“So… who do you think got us into this mess?”

“Oh, I do so love guessing games,” he said, securing the cloak around him before sitting down on his mattress. “Well, I'm sure our list of foes didn't thin out even with the heroic display to save the city.”

Good point.

You took a hungry bite from an apple. “Hmm… it'd be less of a nuisance to just kill us, no?”

“If by ‘us’ you mean ‘you’, then sure. I don't die easily, as I know you're aware, darling.”

Another good point, even though a wooden stake might beg to differ.

“Maybe it really is just one big misunderstanding.”

“... but?”

You glared at him with furrowed brows. “But what?”

He shrugged. “Isn't there always a ‘but’?”

Your mind had begun to wander into other possibilities, each new one more alarming than the previous. 

It was particularly daunting to wonder whether this Ava woman had had a hand in this.

Should you even bring it up to him? Maybe.

“Well?” He pressed, crimson eyes never leaving yours. “I know you have something on your mind, so feel free to share with the audience, darling.”

You hesitated at first, unsure it would be the wisest choice. He was clearly fond of her, but you just couldn't shake the uneasy feeling that she could be up to something.

Or maybe it was just wishful thinking. 

Maybe you were simply allowing your protective feelings over Astarion to get in the way and cloud your judgment.

Maybe she was nothing more than a mere courtesan and not some scheming criminal. 

Besides… what reason would she have to frame both of you for this?

The more you thought about it, the more ridiculous it sounded, so you chose to keep it to yourself.

“I'm inclined to believe we were set up, but I don't know by whom,” you eventually said, not intending on passing out accusations just yet. 

His eyes narrowed. “You're not being truthful.”

Thrown for a loop, you blinked. “You think I'm lying?”

“I know you're lying.”

You gave him a sour glare. “I suppose it takes one to know one.”

He actually genuinely laughed at your remark. “Touché, my dear.”

One didn't easily win the title of charlatan over nothing, after all. 

He'd spent decades honing his skill in the art of deception, which had you falling for his sweet lies so easily when you two first met.

Not wanting to go down that road, you shove the memory aside and focused on the apple in your hand instead.

Silence settled heavily around you, only broken by your occasional bites.

The door to the prison hall swung open all of a sudden, but neither of you shifted.

It was probably nightfall by now, and you had gotten used to the intrusive sounds that erupted from time to time. 

Hurried steps caught your attention and you turned to find Wyll by the bars.

You scrambled out of bed as fast as a lightning bolt with Astarion following suit.

“You're getting out of here.”

An overwhelming wave of relief washed over you and you could nearly cry of joy.

“Finally. Took you long enough.” Astarion said.

Wyll's face dropped slightly. “It is not without compromise, I'm  afraid.”

Oh.

It was to be expected, really…

“The council has agreed to further the investigations without the need of imprisonment, so long as you stay confined to your place for the time being,” he went on, as two Fists joined his side, carrying your belongings. “With two guards stationed outside at all times.”

“Essentially treating us like criminals, then,” Astarion scoffed, clearly put out.

“You are suspected of being criminals,” Wyll pointed out. “I am quite certain it will only be for a couple of days, so do not fret.”

It seemed like a fair deal and, at this point, you would give anything to get out of this prison.

“Wait – hold on. What do you mean ‘your place’?”

Wyll glared at him in confusion. “Aren't you staying with the rest of the group?”

“No?” He pulled out a face of disgust as if Wyll had just implied he had been offered to share an accommodation with a pack of stinky gnolls.

“I did invite him – more than once.” 

“And I declined every single time.”

You rolled your eyes.

As much as you had earlier wished to part ways with Astarion after that heated argument, you were more than willing to move past that for the greater good.

“Well, now would be an opportune time to accept the invitation,” Wyll said, motioning for the guards to unlock the door. “You will be escorted back to your place and await further instructions.”

Grabbing your belongings, you hurried past the door to walk alongside Wyll while both guards flanked you.

“What about my clothes? I need a couple of changes, then,” Astarion inquired as he expertly fastened the dagger holsters around his thigh and waist. “I'm staying at The Blushing Mermaid.”

He did have an interesting set of priorities, given the current predicament…

“We will have someone fetch it for you.”

“Ask for a woman named Ava. She will know what to pack.”

Wyll nodded in silence.

You nearly scoffed, but managed to disguise it as a throaty cough, which earned Wyll's attention.

“I'm afraid these dungeons are riddled with dust and present less than ideal conditions, my friend.”

You cleared your throat with a faint remorseful smile, already feeling guilty for your deception.

The torch-lit tunnel extended as far as the eye could see, and it seemed like forever before you finally made it topside.

The barracks were buzzing with whispers and intense glares, with each Flaming Fist saluting the Grand Duke as he made his way through the building.

A quick glance through the window and you realised the sun had already set.

Convenient for Astarion.

Wyll's feet came to a halt before the closed shut and sturdy double door.

“I am terribly sorry that we had to meet again under such grim circumstances, but I trust this matter will be resolved soon.”

You gave him a warm smile of gratitude. “Thank you for this, Wyll. I'm sure you were met with resistance.”

He chuckled. “Quite the resistance, but I believe being power-hungry does hold its advantages, right, Astarion?”

“I suppose.”

There was not a single part of Wyll that was power-hungry. He had earned the title and his position within Baldur's Gate elite. No one was more deserving of it.

“A ‘thank you’ would suffice, but I'm guessing that's as close to it as I'll get,” Wyll said in amusement as Astarion frowned. 

You gave him a fleeting hug, earning some disapproving glares – including from Astarion.

“Thank you, Wyll.”

“You are most welcome. We'll talk soon.”

Parting ways, you stepped into the night with both Flaming Fists following closely behind. 

“Well, I'm glad that's been dealt with.” You said in an attempt to break the layer of silence.

“Hardly. I'm merely hopping from one prison to another,” he muttered bitterly. “But I suppose it could be worse.”

As you hurried along the busy city streets, you noticed the inquisitive glares from passers-by. After all, being escorted by two guards often meant trouble.

“Come to think of it, this is entirely your fault.”

Your head snapped at him. “What?”

He nodded. “If you hadn't cast Sleep, we wouldn't be in this situation to begin with.”

You scolwed. “Seriously, Astarion? You were about to gut him open!”

“It would have been a better fate than what he actually deserved,” he bit back. “But that damned swirly pink spell drew too much attention.”

You shouldn't have been surprised that he was lashing out, but it still annoyed you to no end that he refused to acknowledge his part in this.

“You have some nerve to pin this on me when you were the one causing a ruckus.”

He was glaring at you like you'd just grown a third arm. “Remind me again who yelled out as they were casting a spell.”

“I didn't yell–”

One of the guards behind you cleared his throat, effectively silencing you.

Arguing with Astarion was about as pointless as fighting the sun from rising. He always had to have the final word.

You sighed. “This is pointless.”

“Agreed.”

As your house came into view, you began to make out a couple of figures by the door.

Gale and Shadowheart.

You heard Astarion immediately scoff once you were close enough. “Please be quiet.”

Gale frowned slightly. “What? I didn't utter a single word.”

“Oh, I know. I'm just practicing this line for the future.”

Shadowheart intervened before the wizard could. “Wyll informed us of what happened. Are you well?”

You nodded. “Within reason.”

She embraced you tightly. “I am sure this will all be resolved soon.”

“A very bizarre event, no doubt,” Gale said, patting your back affectionately. “This city is crawling with the most vile of creatures, indeed.”

The three of you made your way inside, and a dramatic cough was heard.

You turned to see Astarion standing by the doorway, and then it dawned on you that he would need a literal verbal invitation in order to walk in.

“Oh! Right… sorry… you may come in, Astarion.”

He didn't need to be told twice, taking careful steps at first just in case.

Upon concluding it was safe to continue, he made his way into the kitchen area, taking in his surroundings in silence.

Lae'zel was nowhere to be found, and you reckoned she might have gone out to hunt in the surrounding Baldurian woods. 

“Your belongings are upstairs, already,” Shadowheart informed him as she leaned against a wood pillar. “I wasn't sure how to make a vampire abode feel more homely in such short notice, so you'll have to excuse the lack of frivolous and decadent decoration.”

He waved a hand dismissively, heading towards the staircase. “No need to concern yourself with it, darling. I'm not staying for long.”

You watched him round the corner and disappear into the hall.

“Your room is to your left, Astarion,” you called after him.

His footsteps halted and you smiled in amusement.

“Ah – yes. I was merely taking a look,” he said, reappearing at the top of the staircase again with a disapproving look on his face. “I must say… awful and dull decoration. This has Gale written all over it.”

You reckoned having Astarion stay over would prove more of a challenge than you had initially anticipated. 

Series Masterlist

Sharing a house with Astarion under such circumstances.... what could possibly go wrong 😌

Next chapter: Confrontation

I don't keep taglists, so feel free to subscribe to it on Ao3 to get alerts 🩷

[uhohdad]

(18+) ABUSE & NON-CONSENSUAL THEMES

⁺₊ ⭑⁺₊ ⭑₊⋆⁺₊ ⁺₊ ⭑⁺₊ ⭑₊⋆⁺₊ ⁺₊ ⭑⁺₊ ⭑₊⋆⁺₊

König Voiceline Inspired Drabbles

“I can make you talk.”

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“This is a huge misunderstanding! I just got lost!”

The coarse ropes around your wrists and ankles are unforgiving, a rashy burn igniting your skin with each desperate thrash against them. Another length of thick, scratchy rope is snug to the space between your chest and your stomach, keeping your back flush with the chair you’re secured to.

You have no idea if anyone can even hear your echoed pleas, the blindfold tied tightly around the back of your head sparing you from your unbearably quiet, freezing prison.

“Please!”

Your voice is raw and sniveling, tears soaking into your blindfold before they can crest your cheeks. You end on a whine, your head lulling forward in defeat.

The sound of a heavy metal door creaking open floods the room, and your head perks up with a gasp.

“Please, please - help me!”

You get no response, only the sound of heavy bootsteps as they approach. Intimidating and confident, each slow, rhythmic step making you brace a little tighter.

You suck in a breath through your teeth, shoulders pulled up and body trembling in your chair.

“Please,” You whisper, your shaky plea made of only breath, “I’m not supposed to be here.”

The bootsteps come to a stop in front of you, the sound of your squeaky, stuttered breaths following.

“No, you’re not.”

You flinch at your captor’s voice, rough and gravelly and stern, certainly not the voice of the savior you were praying for.

“So what are you doing here, hm?”

“I-” Your mouth is dry, words cracked and broken, “I got lost- Please! I made a wrong turn and I got lost! I- I didn’t mean-”

“I’m supposed to believe that?”

He scoffs.

“What business does a brat like you have all the way out here?”

“Wh- it was - my friend! She got drunk, she needed me to pick her up from a- a party.”

His laughs, loud and hearty and truly gut-wrenching.

“There’s nothing out here but us.”

“Y- It was a woods, thing. I don’t know! Some rave in the middle of nowhere, I swear!”

He laughs again, this one low and sinful, a deep hum stitched in.

“Nice try, liebling.”

There’s a pause, and when he speaks again, his low, raspy whisper is inches from your face. The heat of his breath on your cheek sends a shudder down your spine.

“But I don’t believe you.”

You let out a whine, your mouth parting and your brows pinching behind your blindfold.

“Who sent you here, liebling?”

“No one!”

He keeps his face inches from yours, surely enjoying the front row seat to your stammering bottom lip and your pathetic snivels.

“No one?” He asks, tone strict.

The ropes dig further into your skin at your heaved sob.

“I just got lost!”

Your captor laughs again, deep and weighty, a sound that makes your insides twist and forces another whine from your lips.

“I have to admit-”

The cocky smirk on his lips is palpable, dripping from his words and searing your skin on contact.

“I was hoping you would make this difficult for me, liebling.”

You flinch when a large, coarse glove gently melds the side of your face, a gentle thumb hooking underneath your jaw to keep your head titled up at him.

“Usually I prefer more -”

He hums in the tune of condescension as he chooses his next words.

“- Standard methods of torture - ”

He ignores your squirms and your nearly unintelligible, breathy pleas, his hand keeping your head firmly in place.

“But it’s been awhile since I’ve gotten to play with a toy as pretty as you.”

Your body stills, breaths ceasing and heart pounding against your restraints at the implication of his threatening words - spoken with an arrogant, yet eerily soft tongue.

Your captor’s gloved thumb grazes over your chin, pulling down on your plush bottom lip and watching it spring into place once released. He guides your face to the side, soft fabric smoothing against your skin as he places a lingering, clothed kiss on your cheek.

The heart beating furiously in your chest halts at the sound of his pant zipper coming undone.

When he pulls away, he keeps his low, whispered words right in your ear.

“Maybe if I take that sweet little voice away from you, you’ll be eager to use it when I give it back.”

⁺₊ ⭑⁺₊ ⭑₊⋆⁺₊ ⁺₊ ⭑⁺₊ ⭑₊⋆⁺₊ ⁺₊ ⭑⁺₊ ⭑₊⋆⁺₊

“They are no match for me”

“Let’s be honest, it’s better off in my hands”

[yandere-toons]

Matthew Patel

Romantic Headcanons – Yandere

WARNING: violence, death, implied stalking, mentions of religious concepts, toxic mindset.

From the moment you invite Matthew into your life, he will carry that memory to his deathbed. The bond you forged that day is unbreakable and immortal for him: he will go blind to all other reasons for living, consumed with rage at your absence, and ecstatic at any sign of your favour.

Talk of other suitors sends Matthew into a frenzy from which he will not emerge until this obstacle to his happiness is laid low. Dispute over the value of certain traits leaves Matthew resentful—of himself for not being better, of the other person for possessing what he lacks, and of the universe for cursing him with such horrid luck.

When such a person speaks your name, Matthew is driven by his own insecurities to loathe them. The sound of their voice becomes like a cheese grater to his ears, a reminder of how close he is to losing his world for the second time, and from thence into a sound he will fight to the death to silence.

The look of this person, particularly when they light up at the mere mention of you and receive such a look in kind, is a ghastly thing. Matthew's takeaway is one of doubt and bad memories, of all the similarities to Ramona's waning interest that he had been too immature and inattentive to rectify. He vows not to make the same mistake twice.

Seemingly overnight, Matthew transforms from a brooding presence lurking in your shadow to a wellspring of offers to solve even the smallest of issues. He makes a habit of dropping to one knee and delivering a Pagliacci-esque soliloquy about how deep his affection runs, professing that you've become his whole world and that to lose you would leave him with nothing.

Despite your promise not to "betray" him, as Matthew so graciously puts it, he fears it would be a mistake to let his guard down. He believes you were sincere at the time, but Ramona's flippant attitude has left him anxious that you may change your tune and turn your back on him for no apparent reason.

For years, Matthew sought answers as to why she hurt him: on bad days, he blames her for playing with his emotions; on worse days, he blames himself for not trying hard enough to become someone she wanted. Now that he has another shot at human connection, this earth will burn before it slips away from him.

Matthew's actions arise from a peculiar sense of justice: he views himself as retribution sent down upon all those who have wronged you. By daring to replace him, their way of looking after you is inherently and unforgivably flawed. Someone who could, in reality, be quite decent will devolve in his mind into a parasite who takes advantage of you.

Whether they are cruel or kind-hearted, what obsesses Matthew and keeps him stewing for potentially years is the notion that they've robbed him of his one chance at happiness. So long as they keep you company, he sees his future darkening.

What should be a private affair, Matthew turns into a spectacle: he takes to the stage in his most flamboyant attire and declares war, goading his enemy to meet their doom at his hand. Everything, from the venue to the battle itself, is a power play, a performance art in which he displays his prowess for all to admire and envy.

Once he has struck the first blow, there is no version of events where Matthew shows mercy or admits defeat. The harder they fight, the prouder he is to butcher them. Their death will be a triumph, a testament to the fact that he is strong enough to win this war. Anyone who rolls over in the face of his challenge must not be truly committed to you and therefore deserves to feel his wrath for stringing you along.

Coming to over the shiny remains of his enemy, Matthew forgets his rage and revells in the thought of having the sole being who brings him happiness. Ready to pick up where he left off and confident he's earned that right, Matthew throws himself at you and proclaims how thrilled he is to be together again.

Matthew struggles to move beyond the past and to envision a future where he is alone. Having spent much of his life pursuing others, Matthew has no concept of living for himself. He stakes his survival on the volume of applause at the end of every performance, and in the home environment, his tendency to cling to petty recognition has taken root in all interactions.

This emotional hunger reveals itself in the unnecessary extremes to which Matthew proves his devotion, convinced that the obsequious nature of his company and continual sacrifices gives them meaning. He jumps at every opportunity to be near you, no exceptions, afraid that missing even one will be termed neglect and spell the ruin of his life with you.

At his best, Matthew is an unrelenting thespian who serenades you with ballads and calligraphic poetry. But at his worst, he is an unstable and violent creature full of pent-up rage, who conspires with Daemonettes to bind your soul to his, making it virtually impossible to give him up for another.

[grandlinedreams]

Hiya! Thank you for all of your fics! 🫡 They really make my day everyday! If you are still accepting requests, may I please request anything angsty with a fluffy end for Azriel 🥹 Whatever you can think of! ☺️

Hiya!! I sure can hehe, I hope this is to your liking!!

|| warnings: angst, blood, the war camp Illyrians are jerks, fluff

Illyria is fucking cold.

Wind whips at your face, unforgiving chill biting at any exposed skin ㅡ not to mention the steady crush of snow beneath your feet. The sun is already sinking past the snow-covered line of pines that makes up the steppes ㅡ making you grimace and attempt to hurry your pace.

This was not how you'd expected to spend your evening ㅡ but then again, you suppose freezing to death is more ideal than whatever fate your supposed "group" had intended for you. Made of Illyrian males and wholly unfamiliar, they'd made it clear that you weren't welcome on this expedition when you'd started ㅡ even more so when they'd had the audacity to grab at you with enough force to bruise your skin.

You aren't Illyrian, and so perhaps the thought had been that you would be weak, made more vulnerable in unfamiliar territory ㅡ but you'd proven them wrong when you'd sank your dagger into the gut of one of them, wrenched yourself free, and promptly taken off with the speed of a frightened stag.

You know they could track you if they really tried, but with the snow that pelts from above and the darkening sky, you doubt they'll risk it. But you're facing a bigger problem now ㅡ you have no idea how to get back.

"Fuck," you whisper to yourself, teeth clenched to keep from chattering. "Fuck, fuck, fuck."

If it weren't so goddamned cold, you would've been paying better attention. If you hadn't been chased off by a handful of alphahole males with superiority complexes, you wouldn't even be out here in the first place.

Which is why, you suppose, all you can feel is surprise as the ground underneath you gives way with the cracking snap of loose rock and earth. It doesn't give you time to react as you lose your balance, plummeting gracelessly down into the abyss below what'd apparently been a drop off.

Your body bounces once, twice ㅡ then your head rebounds off sharp stone, impact making your ears ring before silent black consumes you.

Something is wrong.

Azriel can feel it, an undercurrent of tension that thrums in his veins like a second heartbeat. This entire place makes him uneasy, the churn of memories from his own time here as a child that reminds him why he avoids this place at all costs when he can.

But Rhysand had been adamant that he and Cassian make sure things were going well here, and you'd gone along to offer what support you could. Azriel appreciated the intent, but the way you'd been eyed by more than a few of the other males had set him on edge even further.

Cassian eyes him with a mixture of amusement and sympathy at the fact that he's just shy of pacing. Movement at the edge of his peripheral catches his attention, and he turns ㅡ it's the group you'd gone to scout the steppes with.

And, he notes with a fresh spike of fear to his stomach, you're not with them.

Azriel is moving before he truly registers it, eyes flicking from one face to another, fury rising like the maelstrom howling in the moutains beyond. "Where is she."

One of them has the audacity to scoff, and Azriel's blood boils as his shadows writhe, clamoring for bloodshed. Right now, he'd have no qualms about ripping every single one of them to pieces. His siphons blaze. "Tell me where [Name] is. Now."

One of them sneers. His arm is slung over his stomach, stemming the spill of blood from a wound to his stomach. Azriel hopes that you're the one who gave it to him. "She took off."

Azriel snarls, wings snapping out before he throws a rough, "Deal with them before I do" to Cassian before he's in the air and off in the direction they'd come from.

The only reason you know you aren't dead is because everything hurts. Pain radiates from everywhere, from the tips of your toes to your scalp ㅡ but you're alive.

You're not certain if you're relieved or not. A quick tentative flex of your hands is first, then your neck, your back ㅡ and you hiss a sharp curse when white-hot agony starbursts from your left ankle.

It takes longer than you care to acknowledge to sit up enough to assess it ㅡ grimacing at the swollen flesh, bruised an interesting shade of purple.

Fuck.

There's no way you're going to get out of here, not like this. Frustration mixed with fear prompts the rise of tears to your eyes, and you grit your teeth against a sob.

You're going to die out here. And there's nothing you can do about it. You doubt those alphaholes told anyone what happened and while you know Cassian and Azriel will look for you, they won't know where to look.

You stifle another choked sob, then still at the sound of movement. Of course some wild animal would take advantage, you're an easy meal ㅡ

"[Name]," a voice calls from behind you, so Cauldron-blessedly familiar that it has you struggling to turn, raw hands scrabbling for purchase to haul you upright.

You don't know how your ankle bears your weight or how you don't immediately collapse back to the ground ㅡ all you care about is lurching into the Illyrian male's arms with a ragged call of his name. "Azriel."

How he found you is beyond you, but his arms are around you, warding off some of the chill as he takes on most of your weight. He doesn't ask what happened, and you don't ask what you look like. The way his grip tightens on you answers how he feels about both.

He's still gentle as he lifts you up, flinching when you still hiss in pain. And then you're airborne, cradled carefully against him. Pain and exhaustion make your eyelids heavy as you nestle against Azriel's neck, the subtle shift of his head against yours following you into sleep.

When you wake next, it's to the crackle of a fire and the warmth of dry clothes. Sitting up is still a challenge, and dried blood flakes beneath your touch when you bring your fingers to the tender throbbing of your temple.

"You're awake." You look up to see Azriel standing in the doorway. You've been around him enough to read him, the unspoken relief in his eyes as he approaches. "You don't have to worry about that group of warriors," he tells you, "Cassian and I handled it."

The gleam to his eyes turns wicked and cruel, and you have no doubts how he and Cassian handled it. It doesn't make you feel better. You look away, studying the blanket over your legs.

"They had a point," you mumble, hating the weak rasp to your tone. "I shouldn'tㅡ"

"Give people like that any kind of weight to the words they say," Azriel cuts in sharply. "Because they're wrong. Just because you aren't Illyrian doesn't mean you're not strong."

When you still won't look at him, Azriel approaches you and reaches, calloused fingers coaxing your head up to meet his gaze.

"You still deserve better, Az," you mumble. Azriel's eyes narrow, flashing before he's leaning down to press his lips to yours. The kiss is rough, demanding ㅡ and then he pulls away enough to look at you, eyes blazing.

"I don't want better," Azriel answers, voice low. "Because there isn't. I just want you."

Your lips tremble before you're kissing him again, softer and sweeter. "You have me, Az," you mumble.

"And you have me," he answers, quiet enough that only you can hear him. "Now and forever."

[sayuri-of-the-valley]

On how Crowley and Aziraphale's dynamic shifted in s2:

Okay so I was inspired by this lovely post by @rebeccasteventaylor which I couldn't find the link to in order to reblog directly, but if anyone has a link to it pls I'd love to put it here:

Anyway, while I absolutely 100% agree with @rebeccasteventaylor 's meta, I have to point out that s2 shifted it a little. Especially for Aziraphale.

We don't see him looking away trying to hide his heart eyes anymore as he used to do in s1 (we all remember the "smitten" scene, only to cite ONE). Compare the little breath of lust from the Bastille (when he looks away twice) to the "don't hesitate to ask me if you have any questions about love" one.

In s2, he touches Crowley like crazy. He touches his chest, his hand, his back, asks him to dance, gives him a whole ass cotillion ball.

He was deliberately and explicitly pursuing Crowley this season. If s1 was all Crowley pursuing Aziraphale, s2 was all Aziraphale pursuing Crowley.

And Crowley seemed to either not notice or not acknowledge that Aziraphale was doing that (the way he said Aziraphale only has 3 reasons to call him still drives me crazy. Crowley ffs those were ALL the reasons there is to call someone. He's ALWAYS thinking of calling YOU).

I think Crowley was afraid. Probably for the same reason he never told Aziraphale he was homeless. Which is sad and kinda doesn't make sense at first bc this is all Crowley has ever wanted, right?

Until we remember the last time Crowley let himself love and be loved freely, he was cast away (yes, the Fall). He lost everything bc he wasn't worthy according to some crazy criteria. Apparently he doesn't even know what he DID exactly.

I wonder if Crowley thinks he's not worthy of Aziraphale. I wonder if that's why he refused to see their love for centuries until Nina threw it at his face (Nina LITERALLY doing the Lord's work). I wonder if he's afraid of loving and letting himself be loved and then losing it again. Afraid of daring to ASK and losing everything. Again.

And Crowley wasn't *happy* this season, even with their freedom. I wonder if Aziraphale was mistakenly arriving at the conclusion that he was not enough to make Crowley happy. That him alone would never make Crowley smile the way he did when creating nebulae.

These 4 years were breathing space between the two "wars", according to Crowley himself in s1. And I think Crowley doesn't deal well with their relationship in a calm environment. He only knows how to make grand gestures, and heroic rescues, and go fast and act on impulse because then he doesn't have to THINK. Once he needs to sit down and make a commitment (telling Aziraphale he's homeless for ex), he just STOPS, he can't.

Aziraphale was the opposite. The calmness without any danger was giving him all the space he needed to act on his feelings, while the sense of danger always made him enter denial mode (which ironically seemed to be Crowley's mode in s2).

Of course they still need to put a name on what they are and stop pretending, Nina was absolutely right (and Crowley did catch up on that faster in those last 15min), maybe Aziraphale was still lacking this bit even if he was pursuing Crowley, but we can't deny that until those last 15min the "us" was coming from Aziraphale.

It's sad to realise that unconsciously, without even noticing, Crowley was rejecting Aziraphale almost the whole season.

UNTIL suddenly there's a huge problem, a desperate situation and he wants to abandon everything, take Aziraphale and run away again! (his original plan wasn't even to run away, it was to go to the Ritz). And who can blame him after what happened when he Fell? The Fall was totally unexpected, nobody even knew that could HAPPEN.

Crowley doesn't think himself worthy of Aziraphale (he's UNFORGIVABLE!), and Aziraphale doesn't think he's enough to make Crowley TRULY unashamedly happy and carefree.

And they're BOTH immensely WRONG ofc, we can all see it. They're each other's WORLD.

But they just assume stuff and never ASK, never TALK (bc well, it was literally dangerous before, I get it, their communication issues don't come from nowhere). That's why they have different perspectives on how to fix their situation in the end.

And btw I have to add we can't ignore Crowley was opening himself more too, always taking off his glasses when he was at the Bookshop for example. Ironically he was just a bit slower than Aziraphale for once. All that ofc until those last 15min, when they both change back to their old behaviours (makes me want to bang my forehead onto a wall).

I do believe they'd get there if the Metatron hadn't intervened (interesting that he chose this *exact* moment), especially after that little push from Maggie and Nina (for Crowley) and ofc brielzebub (for Aziraphale) that was gonna make them BOTH confess their feelings.

Anyway, bottom line, fuck the Metatron.

This is also a thread on Twitter :D

[makeitastrength]

One thing I'm noticing in some of the fandom reactions to this breakup and the aftermath is that the characters have been put on a pedestal and are being judged against some pretty unrealistic standards. They get raked over the coals for every single mistake. I've seen it with both characters but recently I've seen it the most with Tim.

Don't get me wrong, in no way am I condoning his current behavior. He's made multiple mistakes and he's broken Lucy's trust and her heart. He absolutely needs to be held accountable for all of these things and he owes her an apology and that adult conversation and a whole lot more if they're gonna be able to be together again.

But what he's doing right now, his imperfect actions as he navigates this period of his life... it's very human. This is a man who is at rock bottom, and when you're drowning in the weight of your own trauma like he is, you often don't have the strength to see beyond that and understand how your actions are impacting the people around you. He's not being cruel (which, by the way, implies intentionality to one's actions) by breaking up with her or denying her that conversation. He's drowning.

He truly can't see that she's *not* better off without him. He can't see how much he's hurt her, and that he continues to hurt her with his actions. I don't even think he could answer her questions right now about why he did what he did, because he doesn't fully understand it himself. He can't see anything beyond his own lack of self-worth. Right now, expecting him to be able to fully comprehend what he's done and why is completely unrealistic.

Now, does this excuse his behavior? Absolutely not. But it does explain it.

And the thing that's bothering me the most is the posts saying Tim doesn't deserve Lucy's forgiveness. This is a man who has completely fallen apart but is finally taking the first steps toward healing. Shouldn't he be given a chance at redemption before being written off as unforgivable? And shouldn't Lucy be the one to decide whether to forgive him?

Again, I'm not defending his actions. He has a lot of work to do on himself and he has a lot of work to do to gain back Lucy's trust. It's not going to be easy. But to say he doesn't deserve forgiveness without even giving him a chance? That's pretty harsh. He doesn't deserve to spend the rest of his life being defined by his worst moments. No one does.

[hyuckkaiji]

my love - ominis gaunt x f!reader

summary; pt.2 to only mine. Ominis has loved you since the moment he met you. He found the universe cruel to give him such a love yet allow you to love his best friend. But now you're his, and he can never let you go. Not after all he did to get you in the first place. Ominis!pov up until the actual smut then it's kinda dual!pov pt.3: ominis , pt.3 sebastian

word count; 5.1k

warnings; 18+, explicit sexual content, dark themes, dubcon, porn with a plot, dark!ominis, sub/dom dynamics, mentions of cheating/infidelity, manipulation, obsessive behavior, controlling behavior, If I'm gonna be real with y'all ... yandere!ominis

note; in love with this man, need him to treat me like this. idc if he locks me up in his basement as long as I'm with him. maybe went a lil overboard. Second ever smut 🥴🫶 also ik I didn't specify but the spell he used locked her in the house so she couldn't run away 🤪

The memory of meeting you is ingrained in Ominis' mind, every part of you is. The sound of your laugh, the smell of your hair, the feel of your skin against his. You are undoubtedly irrefutably the most beautiful creature to have ever walked this earth. He's known that since he was fifteen.

But you didn't love him back, much to his dismay. Although he could understand it. Who would love him? Not even his own family did. No, he didn't fault you for not loving him. He faulted you for loving Sebastian Sallow.

He would tell himself he understood, of course he understood. He loved Sebastian too, Sebastian was one of only three people he had ever loved. He understood it, he did not blame you, he understood it, he did, he swore he did. But he didn't, not really, and as time went on, his lack of understanding only furthered.

And he began to blame you, such an intelligent witch, and yet you continued to be fool when it came to Sebastian. You watched him make all the wrong decisions, for merlin's sake, aided him in those decisions. You not only stood by but stood with Sebastian as he delved deeper and deeper into the dark arts, all in hopes of saving Anne.

Constantly defending his decline into utter insanity, "If it were my sister..." But you didn't have siblings, Ominis did, and he would never do what Sebastian was doing. It wasn't right. When would you stop being such a fool? He told you and told you and told you some more how bad the dark arts truly are. But you always did favor ignoring his warnings.

Did you just not care about what he had to say? No, you cared, you told him you cared, and he knew you spoke truly, but you cared about Sebastian's happiness more. Even when he couldn't take it, even when he begged you to speak some sense into Sebastian, you defended your lover. "Would you not use the unforgivables to save a loved one?" For you he may, but he had pushed that thought away, doubling down, telling you under no circumstances would he ever.

His last straw was the killing curse, the bloody killing curse. There was no coming back from that. He could no longer stand by his friend, his brother, really. The only family he had, he couldn't stand by Sebastian when he wouldn't even stand by his own blood for using such heinous magic. He had expected you to side with him. You weren't that much of a fool. His heart broke when you didn't, Sebastian it was always Sebastian. You begged him not to tell, Sebastian had good reason for his actions. No one need know what he did.

According to you, Sebastian always had good reason, and you begged so prettily, the word please sounded so right coming from your lips. Until he remembered why you were saying, "please," why you were begging. But he agreed none the less, agreed to keep Sebastian's secret. But that was a lie, a lie he swore to take to his grave. Sebastian had gone too far.

Ominis hadn't slept. In fact, he was on his fourth cup of coffee. Tea, tea, you had told him, with some of the other ladies, wives, of Feldcroft. But tea does not take all night. He had opened up a book when you left, opting to read until your return.

He had wanted to beg you to stay in with him, wanted to let his hands roam your bare skin, wanted to drop to his knees, and hike your leg over his shoulders then and there. But he is a gentleman. So he decided to wait until you got back home to satiate his desires, you wouldn't be long and he's not an animal, he could wait.

Waited he did, waited until the book began to bore him. Waited until the moon hid away, waited until the vibrant colors of dawn began to paint the sky. You were like this sometimes. He had learned to work around it. So, like the good husband he is, he waited. Other men would have demanded you stayed. Other men would have gone out and dragged you back home, beat you bloody perhaps. But he isn't like that he loves you and he'll work around your moods. You always come back to him any how.

He knows it's just one of your moods or moments as he calls them. Those times where you think you want to leave him, where you think you'd be able to. But you know and he knows, he's all you have and you'll come back. He'll wait until you feel better, but he'll not sleep without by his side.

So there he sat, swirling a fourth cup of coffee, with just a hint of milk and sugar. He didn't like it too sweet. The sun not yet fully in the sky when he hears you shuffling your way to the front door. Perhaps you thought he'd still be asleep. He did enjoy extra time in bed on his days off. Perhaps you thought you could climb into bed with him and pretend you hadn't been out contemplating running away, again.

You did that semi-often. He would pretend to be asleep, he would pretend not to notice you'd walked your night away, lost in that pretty head of yours. But he knew, he knows everything about you. It doesn't bother him the way you feel, not really. He would love it if you loved him back. Hell, he'd be over the moon about it, but it's not important. You can hate him, he doesn't really care, as long as you're his, your feelings don't really matter.

As long as you sleep by his side at night, as long as you have breakfast with him every morning, as long as you welcome him home with false kisses in the evenings, as long as you quiver when his cock enters you, he's perfectly happy letting you have your little day dreams about leaving.

Something about tonight had felt different, though. He had felt off. It was not long before dawn when he let his worries get the best of him, the sky more dark than light when he cast his spell. His intuition was right, it always was.

Sebastian Sallow was in Feldcroft. Ominis should have been more diligent with his wards, he knew he had been getting slack. It had been so many years now, he thought surely Sebastian would have moved on by now. But no, he supposes, had roles been reversed, he would not have moved on either. It's his own fault, he should have never slacked on his wards. He would need to remedy his mistake.

Perhaps you hadn't run into Sebastian, perhaps it had just been a normal walk for you. No, Ominis knows Sebastian, even after all these years, he knows him. He found his way to you, his perfect little wife. Gods help him if he has touched you in any way.

How to deal with this dilemma? Oblivate maybe. No he doesn't feel right casting such a spell on you, a good husband would never. He needs more information before-

"Husband." Merlin, how he loves hearing you say that. Yes, yes, he is your husband, you needn't ever speak his name again. Only call him husband, stake your claim on him, call him yours. Yes, your husband. Your good husband, your sweet husband.

"Wife." His voice is calm, he looks over in your direction. Wand in one hand, coffee in the other. "You did not sleep, darling." A statement. "You did not come home, I couldn't sleep without you." True.

"I-I-" You didn't continue, letting the awkward silence settle, thick and heavy. "Come sit, my love, I was worried when you did not come home, but as you said, this is Feldcroft, so I did not necessarily worry for your safety." A lie, normally true, but tonight had been different, "Do not take that the wrong way. I always worry for your safety, I only meant-"

"I know what you meant, husband." You tossed your coat over an armchair before sitting next to Ominis. He set his wand and coffee to the side on a small table, uncrossing his legs, patting his lap for you to rest your head. A common gesture, he enjoys the way your hair feels like woven silk between his fingers. You obeyed, such a good wife, his wife.

You wiggled a bit before finding a comfortable spot on his lap. He was still in the same outfit. Though he was only in his dark blue trousers and his white button-down shirt. "Where were you?" His fingers started their routine, your hair was knotted, more than usual. His fingers gently worked out the knots regardless.

"Walking, I'm sorry, I should have come home. Should have come back to you." Liar, his fingers twitched, wanting to grab you by your hair and force you to speak the truth. He knows where you were. He always knows where you are. Just as he always knows where Sebastian is.

It was one of his main reasons for becoming an auror. Of course, he enjoyed his job and enjoyed taking down dark wizards, scum of the earth. But his main reason was to keep Sebastian away from you, to keep you all to himself. You, you have been his reason for everything, his reason for living. His need for you is insatiable.

Before he met you, had Sebastian went down this dark path he might have mourned his friend, would have left his life but never betrayed him, never turned him in. But after you, you his sweet wife, his one true love. You're the reason Sebastian is on the run, this is really all your fault. If only you had loved him to begin with, he would have never needed to get rid of Sebastian.

Never needed to do all that he has done, for you, he did it all for you. Do not misunderstand, he regrets nothing but still it must be acknowledged, he is no betrayer by nature, he is only what you have made him.

"Speak the truth, y/n." He has no tolerance for liars, your falsities he could deal with but blatant lies, he could not. You shot up from his lap, moving to look in his face. Though his eyes could not see the worry etched into your features, he could feel it radiating off of you.

"Ominis." He perfers when you call him husband, but his name has never not sounded heavenly on your lips. "I speak the truth. Why do you accuse me otherwise?" Do you think him a fool? Blatant lies, by the gods, he never took you for a liar, yet here you are. He is a fool. He stands quickly, grabbing his wand.

"Ominis." You sound afraid, your voice coming out in a slight whimper. You've never sounded afraid of him before, something about it sends a jolt to his cock. You should sound afraid. He is a powerful wizard, after all, one of the most renowned aurors of your time. Him and his partner are responsible for putting almost half of the new prisoners in Azkaban, several he managed to capture on his own.

You should be afraid of him, you should respect him, you should love him. After all this fucking time and everything he has done for you, given for you, why don't you love him? Why is it still Sebastian. You would rather live a life on the run, a life of a criminal, than be with him?

He casts the spell while you still cower before him, one of his own creation. One, powerful witch you are, even you could not take down. "What...what was that?" Still whimpering, he'll give you a reason to whimper, a reason to beg.

Too long he has been the gentleman, the good auror, the perfect husband. Clearly, you crave something different than what he's been providing. "A spell."

"Cleary." You snap, fear gone, back again is his angry little wife. He loves you, anger and all, but dear, this not the time. His hand connects with your cheek, the sound of the slap vibrating in the silent house. He can smell the tinge of blood in the air, he must have broken your lip. He does not know his own strength, he should not have struck you so hard. No, you deserved this, he needs to teach you a lesson. He grips your face harshly, forcing you to look him in the eyes. He knows it's bothers you, makes you squirm to look a blind man in the eyes.

"You will not speak to me like that again. Unless you enjoy being struck?" You did not respond, at a loss for words he supposed. He's never been harsh with you, never even raised his voice at you. He can be a cruel man, truthfully he is a cruel man, just never to you. It's a side of him he has made sure you were never subject to.

He leaned down, until your noses were almost touching. He could feel your eyes scan his face, hear your short rapid breathes. Fear or anger? He wished you would speak. "Do you understand, wife?" He could barley hear you and he has superior hearing to most men, "yes."

"Yes, what?" He did not know what he wanted more, for you to anwser correctly or incorrectly so he could strike you again. Feeling you tremble beneath him, it was exhilarating. You need to understand how good you have it, need to understand all the leniency he gives you is a courtesy, one he will rescind unless you learn to behave like a proper wife, the wife he deserves.

"Yes husband." Such a good girl, his good little wife. He should be kind, he wants to be kind to you. But making you bleed, making you afraid has awoken some animal instinct in him, unchecked need.

He tilts his head letting his tongue dart out to swipe away the blood building at your lip, letting the metallic taste settle in his mouth. A part of you he is only tasting for the first time, a taste he wants more of. But he pulls back, he needs to control himself at least some what, at least until you beg him to continue.

He crouches before you, his hands against your knees, face tilted up towards yours. "My love, I know where you were." You shake your head, "I was walking, I just needed to breathe, needed to be away from the house for some time. I-" You let out a choked sob, fighting back your tears, he wants to comfort you, he hates when you cry, "I just wanted some time alone, sometime to feel like my own person. Not just Ominis Gaunt's wife."

His wife, his wife, his wife. Those words made his cock twitch, not the time. He stood and struck you again, this time you cried out, this time you brought your hands up to shield your face from another blow. His hand snaked into your hair, wrapping the loose strands in a fist, yanking your head back painfully.

"Speak the truth woman, unless you wish for me to forcefully extract the information." He was a master at such tactics, an empty threat when it came to you. He would never harm you in such a way, but you needed to believe he would.

"Ominis." Tears streamed down your face as you pleaded, but the way you said his name didn't have the intended affect on him. "Truth." Was his only response.

"I was with..." A hiccup, a sob, "Sebastian." The truth. Ominis released his harsh hold on you. Taking a seat next to you, pulling you into his chest, gentle hands stroking your head, rubbing your back as you continue to cry. "There, there my love. All I needed was the truth, if you had only been truthful to begin with." That only made you sob harder, but you did not pull away, instead burying your face deeper, holding his shirt tightly in balled fists.

When you finally calmed down, the only remnants of your break down being dried tear streaks and the occasional hiccup, Ominis held your face in his hands running a thumb over your busted lip softly. "I did not mean to hit you so hard, my love. I apologize."

"I-I can forgive you husband. Can you forgive me?" Did you mean it? Do you regret the night you spent with that fugitive? It doesn't matter, as long as you're in his arms, his wife, his love. "Tell me why you did it? Why you are not happy with me?" You face snaps to his, shocked at his words.

You stutter, unable to form a reply. "Yes, I know, I've always known. I just," He paused, leaning in to brush his lips against yours, "hoped you would learn to eventually." A shiver runs down your spine.

What made you do it, he isn't sure, but you lean in, closing the distance, locking your lips in a frenzied kiss, hands coming up to bury in his sleek blonde hair. Guilt? Best just to enjoy the moment. He kissing you back just as hurriedly, hands tearing your clothes off in a manor of disregard he has never shown before. Slow and loving has always been his way .

In a matter of moments both of you are naked, your kiss a mess of teeth and tongues, hands gripping hair and nails raking across bare skin.

His teeth bury into your neck, sucking and biting an angry red mark into your skin. You moan in response, using his shoulders to steady yourself, nailing digging into his pale flesh. "You're mine, my wife." His mouth is back on yours before you can respond.

This feeling is new for you, this way that Ominis is treating you. But you can't help the spark you feel, the tingles making their way through your body. You rub your thighs together to ease some of the friction, to feel some sort of sensation where you need it most. Where you need him, your husband, Ominis.

He slowed down, feeling you shift around, kissing soft chaste kisses, his normal kisses, into your skin. "Are you feeling needy, my love? Tell me what you wish." You always come first, "Your mouth, fuck, please Ominis."

Normally he would, as soon as the words "your mouth" left your lips he'd be down on his knees lapping away at your juices, swirling his tongue around your clit just the way he knows you like, the way that makes you come undone and shake beneath him. This is not a normal day.

He forces you down on your knees, your face aligned almost perfectly with his waiting leaking cock. "Ominis?" You're confused. He looking down, looking into your soul again, it's sends a shiver down your spine. But it's different this time not kind, not loving, but angry, hungry, a beast in a man's skin.

"I always give you what you want, I do my best to make you happy, I fuck you the way you want to be fucked. And still you have the gall to shut your eyes and imagine Sebastian while it's my cock you come undone on." His hand is in your hair, firm but not painful, "No more love, you're going to start being a good wife to me. You're going to listen and you're going to learn."

For the first time you want to, you stare up at Ominis' face, taking in every minute detail, the way his hair clings to his damp skin, mapping out the moles the scatter across his body, the ridged muscles he gained from years in the field as well as the scars he's got in battles, you've never cared to notice all this before. But right now I this moment, you can't deny, he's beautiful.

"Lesson one," He leans down, pressing a quick kiss to your waiting lips, "use that pretty mouth of your for something other that talking back to me."

"How do you know my mouth is pretty when you can't even see it?" He sneers at you, holding your hair a little tighter and it sends a wave down to your core. With his other hand he grabs his cock directing it down to press again you're lips.

In the four years you've been married to him, you've never done this. Sex has never been about his pleasure, only yours. Time and time again he had delved between you legs until you came apart on his tongue, yet he never asks for anything in return. You're not quite sure what to do, not sure you want to, not sure you could make him feel good if you did.

He taps your lips once more, "Open." His voice is gruff, he looks like he's barely restraining himself. You open hesitantly, but he's pushing his way in before your ready. You moan around him in protest, hands shooting up to push against his thighs, to no avail.

He's using his grip on your hair to make you bob around him, your tongue wrapping around the underside of his cock almost instinctionally. His head in thrown back, his chest rising and falling in rapid pants. "Fuck, pretty girl, I always knew your mouth would feel like heaven." He's jutting into your mouth, hitting the back of your throat repeatedly, making tears well in your eyes as you gag around him.

He keeps at this, holding you in place until he find his release. He lets go of your hair, moving both his hands to hold your face in place as he fucks the last few thrusts roughly into your throat. Your nails claw into his thighs at the assault. He doesn't pull all the way out, forcing you to swallow his load, the salty flavor settling, not nearly as bad as you would have imagined... almost pleasant.

He pulls you up, peppering kisses on your face. "You did so good, my sweet girl, my lovely wife." You don't know what to say but you feel an odd sense of pride, having made him feel so good, having made him come undone as he has you so many times before.

"Do you want me to touch you?" He's nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck, breathing in the scent of your skin. You hum in response, "Please husband." You can feel him smile against you, one hand grips your hips and the other trails up and down your spine.

"Good start, my love. But I know you can beg a little better than that." He presses a kiss to the tip of your nose. "Do you remember how you begged me not to out Sebastian, you almost got down on your knees, you were on the verge of tears, begging me, it was so pretty, you were so pretty. I used to touch myself every night to the way you sounded that day." He chuckles, "Ominis, Ominis, please, I'm begging you Ominis, please. Fuck I can never forget how you sounded." He groans.

"Be a good girl and do it again. Beg me to touch you." Your face flushes, a mixture of anger at him for bringing up that situation, embarrassment at his mockery, plus an overall heat radiating through your body at his confession and demand.

You don't give in at first, you need not be at two men's mercy, allowing two men to abuse your body in such a way. But Ominis' hand shoots out, wrapping around your throat, your breath catches, unable to successfully suck in another. "P-lease." The word is rough and broken. "Atta girl." His grip loosens and you suck in a greedy breath but he doesn't let go all the way, "Go on, love, beg."

"Please husband." Your tone is soft, low, testing the waters. Ominis says nothing. "Please, Ominis..." You debate, will you really lower yourself to this, begging your own husband to have sex with you? But he struck you, forced his cock down your throat without permission and you still stand here, aching to feel his long slender finger burry themselves inside you. You need it and you will grovel to get it.

"Please touch me, please husband, I'm burning up, I feel as though I will combust if you do not touch me soon. I need to feel you inside me, please Ominis." He moans, actually moans at your words alone and without missing a beat his hand is between your legs.

"Fuck." He groans, leaning in to nip at your neck, "You're so wet, pretty girl." He run a finger between your lips, gathering the fuilds with his fingers, bringing it back up to circle your clit. You buck at the contract, electricity coursing through your veins as his slender fingers circle delicately, the pace and pressure teasing.

"Is this what you want, wife?" You grab his hand, trying to force him to put more pressure, how you like it, how he knows you like it, what will make you come undone in a matter of minutes. But he only tsks at you catching your hand with his free one, pulling it away as he continues his teasing ministrations.

"Yes, husband, yes, please" You whine, moving to grip his shoulders for balance. At your surrender, Ominis moves his free hand back to your hips, holding you in place.

"Did you beg Sebastian like this?" He doesn't stop touching you, "Did he make you this wet?" The teasing is becoming too much, you really do feel like you'll combust, "Does he know how to touch you just the way you like?" His fingers adds more pressure, pace quicking and in mere moments you're putty in his arms. Body tensing and convulsing against him as his strength only is the only thing to keep you upright.

His free arm wraps protectively around your waist, his other collects your juices, giving one final swipe over your clit that makes you jump in hypersensitivity. He brings the his wet fingers to your mouth, forcing them in with little resistance. "Do you taste that, pretty girl?" You hum around him.

"I did that to you. Not Sebastian. Me, your husband. This," his arm slides from your waist down to your bottom, grabbing the flesh roughly, "is mine. You are mine." He pulls his fingers free of your mouth with a pop, a thin string of saliva still connecting you two.

Before you can prepare yourself, Ominis' hand is back between your legs, three fingers buried deep inside you, curling at that spongy spot that makes you jump, that spot he always knows how to hit.

"This." Another curl of his slender fingers, "is mine. Only I get to touch this, taste it. Do you understand, wife?" That sensations is building in the pit of your stomach for a second time, it's too much you think, you always stop after the first one, he never pushes you further. You try to shove at his chest, he doesn't budge, but it's more so that your arms are too weak to actually push.

"Who do you belong to, my love?" You're so close, you can feel your resolve snapping like an old rope, string by tedious string. He stopped when you don't respond and you cry out in protest, trying to rock your hips against his still fingers. "Who do you belong to?"

"You, Ominis, I belong to you, my husband, my beloved. Fuck, please, I'm so close, please Om" His pace is punishing and in all of three strokes you feel the coil snap, see white behind your. You hold onto Ominis, trying to ground yourself to this reality as his fingers continue, drawing out your orgasm.

You couldn't stand if you tried, couldn't move a single muscle. But Ominis isn't done with you yet, no, his plan is to break you. You are his, only his, today is the day you finally get that lesson through your thick skull. He picks you up, carrying you in his arms to your shared bed.

He lays you down and you give an appreciative moan, your bed is so soft, familiar and welcoming. It smells like him you realize in your haze, you've never stopped to notice how his scent clings to everything in this house. How his scent gives you a feeling of safety, of home.

Ominis lines himself up with your entrance while you aren't paying attention, half gone nuzzling your face into the comforter. You moan at the intrusion, a mix of pain and pleasure and total oversimulation. You screw your eyes shut, trying to adjust to him inside you.

"Over my dead fucking body." Ominis grabs your face, forcing you to look at him. "Keep your eyes open, I want you to watch me, look at my face as I fuck you. Remember who's cock it is that's inside you." You nod, or you think you did, your body is so heavy, so far out of your control. All that exists is the overwhelming pleasure and Ominis face.

Ominis, you watch as his jaw clenchs, his head falling into your chest before picking back up just so you can see him, his brows scrunch together in pleasure, his eyes screwing shut. His hold on your waist is brusing as his hips jut against yours. Once again your struck by how beautiful he his, how consumed he is by you. You feel that pride again. You make him feel like that, why has it taken you so long to see it.

You reach a hand up, just as his trusts become erratic, your own body falling in sync with his, you pulls his face down just just enough to let your lips meet his in a ghost of a kiss. You finish for the third time this morning just as you feel him shoot his load inside you, he pulls you up holding you tighter against him, burying his face in your chest as he rides out his orgasm.

You rest your head on top of his, running a near limp hand softly through his blonde hair. "I-" the word catches in your throat, "I love you, Ominis."

He pulls away at that, bringing you into a gentle kiss. "I knew you would. I knew it. That's why I had to get rid of Sebastian. My wife, my love, you're mine."

[lorelaiblair]

Enid Sinclair was really something else.

Always, always, surprising Wednesday. Wednesday lived her life in generalizations, assumptions about people which she treated them according to. She was rarely ever wrong about those assumptions she made, she didn’t even need a hand to count. It was Enid, only Enid.

Enid was the only person who never stuck to what Wednesday would assume about her. Enid was constantly destroying expectations and proving Wednesday wrong.

Enid was the embodiment of sunshine, Enid was a rainbow of colors, Enid was the harbinger of joy.

Sunshine was nurturing, protective, lit up the earth and allowed life to grow. Sunshine was burning, hot, a ball of fire that was unforgiving.

If one ventured to close, they would burn up.

Wednesday would liken herself to Icarus. She would burn in the sun’s light, she would fall from the sky, but she was truly free for the first time in her life. The sun warmed her, the wind blew through her hair as she fell. A heavenly way to die, loved by that sun.

Rainbows were seen by the christians as gods gift, a promise. Rainbows were seen by the majority of humanity as something beautiful, something worth looking at.

Before a rainbow came the storm. Washing away towns, destroying life, wreaking havoc.

Wednesday could liken herself to Noah. A survivor, a braver of the storm. The first person to truly see a rainbow for the gift that it was.

Joy was a wonderful thing. Wednesday knew the feeling quite well, she found joy in many things. In storms, in fire, in guillotines, in poisons. In Enid.

Joy though, would never be appreciated or recognized without its counterparts, without fear, sadness, or anger. Wednesday saw that too. She saw Enid, in the love of the sun and in its burning. In the rainbow and its storm, in joy and in fear.

Wednesday Addams saw Enid Sinclair for everything that she was, and Wednesday was so in love.

She had never loved another person in the way that she was absolutely bewitched by Enid.

[ishaslife]

Astarion has been breaking my poor heart.

This post will contain spoilers for the game and Astarion's romance/backstory. Before anyone comes at me, I want to say that you are the main character, you are supposed to change the fates and behaviours of your characters, especially if you are romancing them. It's a video game, that's kind of the point.

This post is extremely long and I apologise.

This analysis is based off my playthrough.

(*) means check notes at the bottom of the post.

I wasn't expecting to like him as much as I do. Don't get me wrong, I really liked him during EA and I thought he was funny, charming, flirty with a dark past and all that was just a means to cover his trauma but since the full game has come out and we've gotten to know more of him, it truly breaks my heart to see and know what he has been through. My sister and I were watching his reactions to be being rejected, being told that Tav only wants sex and forcing him to do things he doesn't want to do, it is truly heart-wrenching.

Many people expected Astarion to be this "I am so sexual and my romance will mostly be sex, also I will betray you the first chance I get." and it couldn't be further from the truth. Astarion is extremely loyal, and yes he has that air of flambouncy to him, will often make japes and say evil things but most of the time, it is just a facade. It's his shield in a way, he has been treated with utter cruelty for two hundred years of his life and now that he finally has some control over himself, he doesn't wish to be hurt again.

I don't think Astarion is ever completely evil, even in the beginning. He just wants to have fun and enjoy life after so many years of slavery. He likes it when you are snarky, say mean shit to people for fun but, he doesn't like to see innocents get hurt, and he doesn't support fighting for people who don't fight for themselves. Yes, he will support some of your evil decisions but they will lead to a bad ending, for you and your characters. It'll make Astarion wallow more in his greed and he'll lose the little humanity he has left. He doesn't really have a clear sense of direction in the beginning of the game as he's just found freedom and obviously wants to live life to the fullest, being evil comes naturally to him, it's instinct as its what he's been doing for two centuries.

This is my assumption since we don't know his actual age but since he's an elf who was well-respected in society, had a pretty prestigious job and was rich enough to be corrupt. I'd assume he was at least 70-100 years old before he was turned into a spawn. (EDIT - in a recent post by @deluxetrashqueen I saw the translation of the dates of birth and death on his tombstone:

"Astarion Ancunin

229-268 DR" to which he adds, "458DR - "

which shows that he was only 39 at the time of his death, which explains his emotional immaturity for an elf.) My point being, I believe he has been a spawn for longer than he's ever been a regular person. He has spent the longer part of his life doing evil things for an evil man, that was what his life was on a daily basis with Cazador. And his former work experience probably helped, he likely learnt pretty quick how much he took for granted as a living person and the harshness of his master, peers and people he seduced made him harsh and unforgiving in return.

Once you start getting close to him, you start to learn that he is only mean to people because of how life has treated him. In his romance, he says "no one ever looked out for me, no one ever said a kind word to me. You're the only one, no one is like that." Astarion starts to see, because of you that there is kindness in the world, and he finds kindness in you. Especially after his quest, as much as he'd hate to admit it, he also sees friends in your other companions as they do in him. By the end of Act 2, he starts to get more soft towards you and the decisions you make, often even disapproving of evil decisions. People often tend to forget that a lot of Astarion's evil personality is a front, it is not who he truly is.

These points will be better explained individually so I will talk about some themes.

Power: power plays a big part in his entire storyline. In the beginning, he wants to harness the powers of the tadpole to become powerful and at first, you think that it's simply because he's an evil character and he wants power for the sake of having it. Then later, he wishes to take over the power of the ascendant but mostly only to spite Cazador and take something important from him, not fully realising the true power of the rite.

As he slowly starts opening up to you, he tells you "the mind flayers tore me from that place" and you realise that its the tadpole that let's him walk in the sun, do things a vampire or spawn would never be able to, you learn that he hates being a vampire because he can't even remember what he looks like. He seeks power outside because he has had no power over himself for about two centuries, he thinks that having this power will fulfill his needs but it won't, we know it won't because in truth he only needs to reclaim his autonomy, physical and mental. Of course Astarion would never truly admit to this for a long while, even when he's romanced. I personally really love his good romance arc where he doesn't have sex with you, not because he dislikes you or doesn't want you but because, as he says "any kind of intimacy was something I performed to lure people back for him. While I know things between us are different... being with someone still feels tainted. It brings up all those feelings of disgust and loathing." He has spent 200 years or so bowing to Cazador's whims, done things to people he didn't want to do and I assume since it's heavily hinted at, were very sexual in nature. In a relationship, he simply wants to be seen as a person and I think that's really sad because that's how low the bar is for him.

In the ending of his quest, you can persuade him and tell him that going forth with the ritual won't set him free even if he thinks it will and I agree. If he's a slave to Cazador now, later he'd be a slave to power and greed. Just look at Cazador, despite being one of the most powerful beings in existence, he still wanted more power. That kind of greed and hunger never ends and Astarion would lose himself and who he has become while he was with us. Yes, it makes him walk in the sun again and do things a regular vampire can't but at what cost? 7,000 lives and his humanity. He would never be able to enjoy this "freedom" because he'll only strive to seek more power. In his ascendant ending, he becomes everything he's ever hated about Cazador, the cycle repeats itself, from Vellioth to Cazador and from Cazador to Astarion. And it will never end. Astarion even refuses to turn you into a vampire and wishes to keep you only as a spawn. With an insight check, you can learn that he thinks you're degrading yourself and he doesn't care. He now sees you as something to own, something to possess, not love. All his good qualities, wants and needs get twisted. Astarion truly only needs to feel like a person again but he doesn't fully realise this until you show it to him, through good deeds and actions, through simple acts of kindness. As he says in his "good" ending "I've been dead in the ground enough. It's time to try living again. With all that life has to offer."

Safety: Astarion wants to feel safe. He is so scared of being found by Cazador, he knows he's looking for him and the only thing giving him some form of safety from Cazador is the tadpole so of course he wants to harness its powers that is until he finds out it'll turn him into another kind of monster, a mind flayer. He doesn't wish to lose himself and his freedom again hence is vehemently against taking on the tadpole's powers but he doesn't stop you because that is of course, your decision to make. He says "if such power would please you, darling, I won't stop you. But do be careful, I want you to remain you." Now the only thing left that can properly give him his freedom is Cazador's death and he wants to kill him himself which I think is perfectly acceptable, Cazador deserves to die and if it is by Astarion's hands, all the better. But, in his romance, he makes it clear that he's doing it for safety, and he tells himself that he wants to take the power of the rite for safety as well because in truth, he is terrified of being powerless again. He does want revenge yes, but he also wants to keep you and himself safe from Cazador, even in the dungeon, if you run an insight check, the narrator tells you that he is losing his mind because of the power that's on offer and the smell of blood in the air. It's almost as if to say "he's losing his mind, please stop him before he forgets who he is." Astarion NEEDS your guidance*, eventually he even thanks you for 'saving him from himself.' In his good ending, he sees that in taking the power, he would be no better than Cazador and would become everything he's ever hated about him, and inflict on others what his former master inflicted on him, starting with you. His ascendant ending is honestly a very sad ending for his character, all that growth, change and development you bring to him throughout your journey just gone down the drain as he becomes an unfeeling, evil, narcissistic arsehole who only craves for more power. In his good ending, he will be safe, with you and with the friends he has made along the way. He is proud of himself and so is everyone else, it offers him a kind of friendship that's afforded to very few in the D&D world, especially a vampire/spawn whose very existence is hated. It is a bond based on trust, loyalty and to a degree, even love instead of fear like in the ascendant ending.

Abandonment and Fear: Astarion is driven by fear but he also knows facing Cazador is inevitable and something he needs to face rather than avoid. Even if he isn't outright seeking it (but he does seek it) I think he is braver than he likes to think and he definitely has some anti-hero traits. He likes the tadpole because it helped him get away from Cazador's authority and he enjoys bending others to his will since it makes him feel more powerful compared to how he's felt the past two centuries. But if you choose to not do the same, he doesn't really care. He doesn't except it of you nor is he disappointed (since he neither approves or disapproves. He only disapproves helping people who didn't ask or didn't want to be helped) he only gives a snarky comment or two about what he would've done instead and follows you anyway. He realises you're a good person. If you indulge too much however, I would argue that he agrees simply because he doesn't want you to turn against him. Perhaps he believes that you can turn on him and kill him as easily as you killed the tieflings or other innocents. He probably thinks it's easier to turn a good person evil than an evil person, good (tbh he wouldn't be entirely wrong.) And making bad choices does negatively affect his character of course but I just thought I'd put that out there as I think it's very likely for him to do so. He is definitely extremely paranoid, he hardly ever says how he truly feels out loud but when you break up with him (it's so heartbreaking omg) he says "I was beginning to think someone truly wanted me. I shouldn't have deluded myself." and "From the start, I was rather counting the hours until it was going to end. Midnight chimes, eh?" As heartbreaking as it is, the latter line shows how terrified he was of being abandoned or only be used for his body, he kept obessesively worrying that Tav would leave him after he bore his heart out to them. There's another bit of dialogue in Act 1 where he is trying his lines with you to get you to sleep with him a second time and you can say no which he is fine with but if you outright reject him there, meaning "I never want to see you like that again" he gets extremely sad: "Well, excuse me while I die of a broken heart. [slight chuckle] In all honesty, it's a shame. That time was special to me. I've gotten on my back 10,000 times or more and forgotten half of them. But you, I'll remember. [long pause] Have a fine evening... dear." Mind you, this is after you've only slept with him once. His dialogue makes it seem like he was already catching feelings for you, and not realising that himself until this happens. Seeing this made me realise that you're the first person he's slept with of his own volition, even if it was to seduce you. For the longest time, I think Astarion doesn't even want to believe you'll like him as something more than someone to sleep with, he hopes you might as his rejection line says so but astarion is nothing if not careful and well, paranoid.

That's why he's so shocked when you choose to not let him bite Araj at Moonrise even if it gave you something powerful in return. He sees that you chose his comfort over a genuinely useful commodity. Biting people or using his vampire, well, anything makes him extremely uncomfortable since it reminds him of things he needed to do for Cazador. If he bites her, it makes him feel like being a slave again, but bending to your will and wishes instead of his former master's. He realises he doesn't know how to say no. Which is another thing he says if you wish to pursue only a sexual relationship with him. He feels played.

Freedom: this is probably the main theme to his character arc. He wants to be free, not only from his master but also free to make right decisions and make decisions for himself, something he hasn't been able to do for years. This is why respecting his decision to not sleep with you is important to him, he doesn't feel comfortable being physically close to someone in a sexual way as it makes him doubt the person's true intentions and feelings and of course, makes him feel loathsome and disgusted with himself. He needs that time where you just connect as people to really see that you are in fact genuine and he wouldn't be hurt if he trusted you or gave you his heart. Towards the end of the game, he is still quite ruthless, but mostly only towards people who do wrong and are criminals. Astarion has a very strong set of ideals, he believes that people who do wrong deserve to die no matter the crime. I don't think this is entirely true, every crime deserves a different punishment but most criminals, those who do severe wrong and still get away with it, do deserve to die but this is just my opinion of course. He is ruthless towards bad people because that's how people have been to him, at least Cazador and I wouldn't be surprised if he was treated badly during his sexual encounters with strangers while working for him.

Why I think the Ascendant ending is a tragic ending for Astarion's character and for you.

I won't lie, there are some aspects of ascended Astarion that are pretty hot and I'm a sucker for (pun absolutely intended) powerful, gothic vampires but this ending comes at the cost of way too much. One simply being: Astarion isn't Astarion anymore. All his snarkiness, playful nature and strange innocence is gone. In his ascendant ending, that is, when he takes the power of the Rite of Ascension for himself by carving the same rune on Cazador's back that's on his own, Astarion loses himself. In D&D lore, full vampires are unfeeling, ruthless and have all their good traits twisted into something more malignant and evil. If Astarion loved you, that love turns into possession, if he cared for you, it turns into obsession. He doesn't truly care anymore... as a vampire, he is manipulating you and telling you things you want to hear instead of what he's actually feeling. He never truly got that moment of catharsis by killing Cazador as he does in his spawn ending. That simple bliss of killing the man that enslaved him and worse all these years; he never gets to experience that because he ends up using Cazador for the same power Cazador killed Vellioth for in the past, albeit worse. It's a never-ending cycle. And if he turns you into his spawn, you will go through the same fate Astarion went through and probably turn on him the same way he turned on Cazador. He has absolutely no sympathy for you or for anyone that is not him, in fact he feels almost disgusted by you because he thinks you're degrading yourself in front of him. There is a conversation between him and if you refuse to become his spawn, and I think it sums up his character perfectly as a vampire, it goes like this:

(choosing different options will have different dialogues but they more or less lead to him saying the same thing.)

ASTARION: Just so you know, I have everything I've ever wanted. Everything lies ahead. I can see my path to a waking dream. From the Crimson Palace, I will govern day and night. Create a city of spawn who bow before me, cast a fog over the world for my children.

TAV: But the Palace halls will be lonely.

ASTARION: You'll be lonelier than I. Very soon I will discover how to call my legions of wolves, become a sea of mist, run wrongside-up on roofs. [laughs] Everything vampires do best.

You could have, too. [sniggers] What a waste.

TAV: You don't really have anything at all.

ASTARION: I can take anything I want. I should've made you a spawn just to teach you that.

And there we have it, that last bit of dialogue shows how Astarion is now everything he hated about his own master. He is Cazador's literal and spiritual successor, he thinks you need to be punished for rejecting him. He doesn't feel for you anymore, at least not in a human way. He has become someone else entirely, for the worst. His drive for taking the power of the rite was to be able to walk in the sun again but as a full vampire, he wants to "dominate it (the world) until the sun melts and give ourselves over to the night."

Astarion NEEDS change, he needs to see that the world can be a kinder place than the one he's lived in this whole time. Just a bit of care and love with him goes a long way. In his spawn ending, he comes to realise that you gave him his life back even if it was as a spawn because that is true freedom. He is free from his master, and greed & power which was in the disguise of safety. He may never be able to walk in the sun, but he is free to make his own decisions that are driven by his choices. One of them being; wanting and loving you, living a full life with you, whatever that may entail.

If you went into the game thinking that Astarion will betray you no matter what then giving him the ascendant ending brings your fears to life. Astarion doesn't learn anything, by making him a full vampire, you basically tell him that he can only be powerful and worth something if he has super vampire powers, and in turn, you lose everything too. Astarion may have gained unparralled strength but now he has no need of you, you gave him everything he wanted and nothing he needed so now he can do whatever he wants with you because you are lesser than him, literally, he is much stronger than you are and his power will only grow as he discovers more of it. He tries to manipulate you into turning you into a spawn. A dialogue being:

TAV: After everything you went through with Cazador, you're going to make me a spawn?

ASTARION: Oh that was completely different, I'd never hurt you. I love you. That's what you've been waiting to hear, isn't it? That's what you want?

Which just shows you how he's only saying "I love you" because that's what you want to hear, so you agree to becoming his spawn. He doesn't mean it, it doesn't really have any feeling behind it whatsoever. And if he turns you into a spawn, you have basically lost everything. Because he is obsessive over you, he'll never let you go and since now he is properly evil, he likely won't turn you into a vampire either, even if he says he will.

This is just my take on the ending though, I think we can all agree the ascendant ending is the evil ending for his character, even if it is an ending you prefer. I'm not trying to hate on anyone who does like this ending, only stating that I think it is meant to be evil and I personally don't like it.

CONCLUSION

Once you get to truly know Astarion, he's a pretty decent guy. I can't speak much for people who didn't romance him, I'm not entirely sure how his non-romance route plays out. The good conclusion of his quest is so wholesome, where he says he feels "truly, honestly free" and tells you "you saved me from myself. This is a gift, you know, thank you. I won't forget it." getting full circle to the first time you let him bite you (the only time in my case.) It shows so much character development and pure joy in the way he thanks you (it doesn't need to be said but props to Neil Newbon for bringing the character to life.) He will always be a spawn and yet, he feels like "anything and everything is possible" because of you and the choices you made with him, you believed in him when he didn't believe in himself, you showed him that he is enough just the way he is and he doesn't need to become a full vampire to be strong and powerful. Astarion comes out of his finale, a much more positive person, who actually cares even if he won't show it and the best part is, he always keeps that tiny streak of evil and mischief within him. He hasn't lost sight of himself, he's just less spiteful now and feels free to actually enjoy life rather than constantly being scared of what might happen to him. He finds trust and happiness in you and it makes him happy that you find the same within him. You are his home and he hopes he is yours.

I understand that my analysis may not be perfect and my interpretation of the character may be different from someone else's but that's fine, he is a video game character that can be played so many ways and people can go around it however they like, interpret his character however they wish. This is just what I think.

NOTES

'Astarion needs your guidance.' - no, this is not gaslight-y. Astarion is a deeply troubled character and clearly finds it hard to differentiate between right and wrong. He often asks for your input and what you think by Act 2 which isn't a bad thing, he's asking for help and I think that shows how far he's come. In the final scene of his quest, he is overcome by the promise of power and the safety it would've provided which would've consumed him as it did Cazador, Astarion admits to this himself too later on once he can think clearly and is in a more positive mindset. There is nothing wrong with guiding your partner towards something that will eventually be better for their growth as a person in the long run.

[henry-fox-biggest-stan]

I’ve seen someone else mention this, but I also wanted to talk about this

The erasure of queerness in the movie is something I definitely did not expect.

Sure, it’s a love story between two men, but grab Alex and Henry and make them a man and a woman, the movie doesn’t change much. Maybe monarchy instead of being homophobic and racist now it’s only racist, and they hate Alex not because he’s a man but because he’s brown. They kept it a secret because of monarchy’s racism, but love triumphs at the end. That’s why the movie didn’t hit as hard as the book. The movie is just some forbidden love movie, rwrb is a book where the main characters are in a forbidden relationship, but it’s not the whole point of the book.

Alex discovering his sexuality, Nora being bisexual, whatever Pez had going on, whatever June and Nora had going on, Alex learning about queer history, the historical lgbt love letters at the ends of their e-mails, all the references to queer history and literature, THE SHELTERS, monarchy’s homophobia (yes, it appears on the movie but it’s really glossed over. It doesn’t show just how homophobic they actually are in the book), Alex stating how he knows more about himself the more intimate (both in the sexual and non sexual sense) he is with Henry, Luna being gay and unapologetic about it and being exactly Alex’s queer role model, even before Alex knew he was queer himself, THE FUCKING SHELTERS

I’m so so mad about the shelters being missing.

Henry and Pez made shelters for lgbt youth, so they can never feel as alone as Henry once felt, so they can always have a safe space so they know there’s nothing wrong with them no matter what the adults in their life might say, no matter what the preacher or their classmates or the right wing politicians in their tv might say, where they can find hope, and friends, and a home if they never had one before, or at least, one where they could truly be themselves. The shelters are, I would say, crucial to Henry’s character development. He went from hiding, believing being gay was “the most unforgivable part of him”, not even trying to come out because he just succumbed to live an unhappy life in the closet, to someone who’s out, living with his boyfriend and running lgbt shelters with his best friend so young queer people can move past all the things he felt and believed time ago, so they know they are perfectly normal and loved and safe in there, as long as Henry and Pez are there they’re safe, they don’t have to hide anymore.

Henry became the queer elder he needed in his life when he was younger. The lgbt adult who could tell him than it would get better, no matter how bad it was at the moment, no matter if he couldn’t see the light at the end of the tunnel, because it was there, he just had to hold on a bit more. Than there was absolutely nothing wrong with him.

Another thing than I seen changed than a normal person might not notice, but I did, because im obsessed, is the karaoke scene.

In the book, it takes place in something resembling a gay bar (maybe not exactly, but it’s full of queer people), and look at this

Three rounds of shots appear —one from a drunk bachelorette party, one from a herd of surly butch chicks at the bar, and one from a table of drag queens. They raise a toast, and Alex feels more welcomed than he ever has before, even at his family’s victory rallies.

Look again

and Alex feels more welcomed than he ever has before, even at his family’s victory rallies.

This book is about about finding community, finding yourself, finding love and letting yourself accept that love.

Do you think Alex in the movie has felt “more welcomed than he ever has before, even at his family’s victory rallies” at any point? Has he been with another queer person in the whole movie, except Henry, at all?? Because Nora’ sexuality was not mentioned at all no references nothing and with the whole Pez thing everyone could see Nora as just straight

Henry and Alex in the movie are kind of without community, alienated from it, they are, in my personal opinion, the kind of gay people republicans would consider “good gay people” who “don’t shove it on everyone’s faces and just wanna be left alone” (in the rwrb universe where they exist and are real not actual republican people watching the movie). They don’t really take a role on the community, in the book, Alex and Henry being queer is an important part of themselves, again, Alex feeling like he knows himself better, Henry whole internalized homophobia, their shared interest for lgbt history and literature, Henry and Pez making the shelters, etc etc meanwhile in the movie Alex and Henry just happen to be gay and bisexual, but it’s no deeper than that.

And don’t get me started on creating Miguel, a queer character, and making him the one to leak the e-mails or smth instead of a republican candidate

[the-s1lly-corner]

Creepypastas comforting the reader

except some of them arent particularly good at it + as per usual jeff ben and toby are written as platonic everyone else can be seen as either or writing a silly little thing before i tackle in on requests, falling into the same vibe as the "hugging/kissing creepypasta characters" post from last week since i do enjoy rating these lads on thing ehehehe obligatory "these style of posts go over my personal character limit but since this is writing for the admin he bends the rules a bit" anyways uhuh totally dont give me ideas for these eheheh winks

SLENDERMAN:

not much of a talker in general, and i think that remains true in scenario where you're upset/crying. but he does make it clear that hes here for you... just... in a general sense. you know? refuses to leave you alone unless you directly ask him that you need space; more so watches out of concern rather than his usual curiosity. i think he would make you a warm drink and let you vent to him. more of a logical approach than an emotional one; better at giving solutions rather than giving comfort.. though i like to think that his tentacles will pull you close if you want to lean into him, will let you cry into his shoulder with no judgement. 6/10 low score simply because sometimes one needs comfort in the moment instead of solutions, you know?

SPLENDORMAN:

i think hes the opposite of slenderman. hes all emotions first, logic later. if he already knows you comfortable with it, i think he would come in and scoop you up in a hug.. hell he might even cry with you, or do the equivalent of it (admin is still on the fence of whether or not he has eyes or not! torn between them being actual eyes or markings) will make you your favorite snacks and drinks, all the while letting you cry and vent to him. gets mad on your behalf if someone had done you wrong, does not make your feelings feel small or invalidated. if he could he would confront the person who treated you unfairly.... and in fact he might, who would ever believe the person that they came face to face with a ten foot tall monster? though... this can lead to him being a little quick to make choices that might have big impacts... 7/10 love this man need to write more for him and develop my hcs

EYELESS JACK:

you know now that i think about it, given how much i write for EJ, i swear ive done a similar prompt at some point. regardless of it i did and if my hcs are the same, im going to go ahead and drop my hcs. i think hes very similar to slenderman in terms that hes more of a solutions > emotion person.. though i do think hes more likely to join you in any shit talking if someone did you dirty... do i think he would target that person next when hes going to go 'hunting'? no... unless the person did something truly awful and unforgivable, then he would definitely consider it.. probably wont go through with a harvest, though.. but thats it whole other thing. more of a talker than slenderman, so at least he has that going for him. lets you sleep in his bed if youre venting to him in his cabin 7/10 one point higher than slenderman simply because he talks more n stuff

LAUGHING JACK:

im gonna be so real i think he can go either way if hes going to be good at comforting you. on one hand hes too silly and might not take it too seriously; or he might try to make you laugh.. which COULD work but other times makes it look like he doesnt care about your feelings. on the other hand i think he can give some solid adivce, but thats only based on the fact that i love it when unhinged hyper characters suddenly drop the most valuable info. shrugs. i mean if you need a distraction, i think lj is your man to go to ! he was literally made to entertain so i dont think its going to be too hard for him to take your mind elsewhere. i think he would offer to cook you something but i also think hed probably be banned from the kitchen because he cant cook for shit. has probably set water on fire somehow level shit. so instead you guys just sit together talking... mostly its him leading the conversation, though. doesnt leave you be until you at least give him a smile... 6.5/10 only because i dont know how to rate him here

MASKY/TIM:

oh not at all emotional. well no thats a lie but hes not very emotive. thats the more correct word. look if we're talking about masky, hes probably going to be really bad at comforting you unless your means to be comforted involves being watched... though i do think he would fall into the act of service hole.. does all the chores and such for you so you dont have to worry yourself about cleaning a pan thats been in the sink for two days now. tries his hand at cooking, but i dont think masky is the best cook.. TIM on the other hand.. but we'll get into that in a minute. probably ends in you guys ordering something but hey its the thought that counts. if someone made you upset you notice over the course of the next few weeks that person starts outright avoiding you and overall seems anxious. weird. probably unrelated! 7/10 only because im badly overworked irl and the idea of someone taking charge sounds like a dream

tim i think would be similar, but hes more expressive for you... will cook for you but if your favorite food happens to be really specific or something else, hes probably going to run out and get it. torn on whether or not he would tell you before he goes, or if he sticks to keeping it a surprise.. i think he would tell you just so it doesnt feel like hes abandoning you when youre down..! not much to be said here other than him being supportive 8/10 i would KILL for some white cheddar popcorn rn

HOODIE/BRIAN:

i think he would put you to bed. actually i think both of them would but to keep things clear im still going to divide this like masky/tims. i think hoodie is going to keep you in bed, even if youre not particularly tired. dont bother trying to fight him on it, hes only allowing you to get up for the bathroom. let him take care of things! very similar to masky, picks up on a lot of the chores. i think he can cook, though, definitely better than masky but i dont think hes like. top tier. likes making you little snacks, or food thats generally deemed as comforting (mac and cheese, cornbread, ect). doesnt talk (sign) much but will occasionally sign to you asking how you're feeling 7.5/10 love this man, so mad kid me used to sleep on hoodie

very similar, but an even better cook than hoodie so be prepared to eat good. communicates with you more than hoodie and makes small talk while cooking. i think he would keep the chat lighthearted and on a different topic rather than tackling your feelings, unless you express that you want to vent then hes all ears! not because he doesnt care more so because he doesnt want to seem prying or nosey and wants to give you the choice yourself. sometimes makes jokes about stuff in order to try to get you to smile. feels victorious when he succeeds 8/10 mad i slept on him too

TICCI TOBY:

i think he might actually be TOO strong and in your face when asking you what happened. only one who outwardly offers to krill someone if someone were to make you upset. but thats just because i think toby can occasionally get protective of you. i mean youre one of his best friends (only friends) and here you are upset! if you dont want him to do anything hes going to try to contain himself. he strikes me at the type to retreat to the roof and look up at the stars... i think he would offer to do that with you; but if youre too scared to climb then he can lay out a blanket for you so you guys can go sit on the grass! surprisingly a very good listener, though very emotionally driven and reacts a lot when you tell him the details of your day.. but its nice, i think, reassures you that hes is in fact listening.. 7/10 gives off brother vibes

JEFF THE KILLER:

ohhoho so this is an interesting one, because i like the idea of jeff still acting like an older brother every now and then even after everything. but he also has that attitude of "i dont care about anyone around me and im better than everyone".. more of an actions than words guy. he wont really say it.. you know? one of those "if he actually didnt care then he would bother giving you the time of day, much less break into your house at night with his arms full of your favorite snacks and drinks". good luck trying to vent to him though, i think its rare that he lets anyone vent to him since he also holds the "ew yucky feelings" thing ben has.. though once in a blue moon i think he would let you and give some decent advice... though every now and then that advice involves punching someone 6/10 is fair i think...

BEN DROWNED:

kind of reminds me of how younger siblings will give their older siblings know they like. kind of like the "my brother saw me crying and asked me what my favorite color is... he gave me things in that color" post/image going around that i cannot for the life of me find but i know it exists because it made me cry. i think its like that. except since hes in your phone he already knows what your interests are.. probably pulls up what your comforts and likes are in an attempt to cheer you up. i dont think he would bluntly speak with you about your feelings, but thats just because he thinks heart to hearts are yucky and cringe/lh. uses videos, art, stuff like that. ehehe silly phone ghost 7/10 because as simple as it is, if someone tossed my cc at me i would feel at least a little better for a moment and its the action itself you know?

PUPPETEER:

i thin hes similar to jeff in regard that he tries to play things off but deep down he does care, and that tends to show more through his actions... though i personally think if you were to actually cry then he might lose it a bit, because who DARE? i gotta admit, im still trying to figure out how i want to write pup and what hcs to give him, but i think.. this is an okay take.. might 'confront' anyone who made you upset, with or without your approval which might make some issues between the two of you.. more ready to let you vent to him though, might slip out some mean insults and words about whatever's got you upset regardless of its a person, chance, or object 7/10

[pearlaquaoceans]

The amount of stuff knocking around in my head about episode 99 have me thinking nonstop about some of the gods and I gotta write it down. This might not make sense or it might not be how the gods will appear by the end of the three episodes but oh man am I invested right now.

Sarenrae - I could have only dreamed for Ashley to play the everlight but she is and it is perfection. I have missed the warmth of Sarenrae since VM and to have her back is fantastic and to have Ashley who showed such a love for her as Pike is so beautiful and wonderful.

I am totally behind Sarenrae falling in love and having a family in her mortal form. She loves humanity much like Pelor but being the goddess of forgiveness, she can understand them more and see their flaws but also the beauty in those flaws. I think because she forgives she can also see humans as the full beings they are and she loves them still. How could see come to Earth and see the good in people, and allow them forgiveness when they do wrong, and not love them? Humanity is messy and falling in love is messy and families are messy and it fits so much with what she governs that it just feels right to me. Her being a school teacher feels right to me. I fully believe she is going to carry the scent of the top of her children's heads for as long as she holds that mortal form.

Pelor - This one surprised me. He has always been shown in a domineering and stuffy light. He is a god in a traditional sense who seems untouchable, unreachable, and unparalleled in his grandeur. So the moment Nick Marini spoke as him, I was shook because it was so very... gentle. Warm. Present. I cannot remember the last time my feelings on a character did such a left turn that I was not expecting. As soon as he spoke I was in. I was invested.

And Pelor is in that traditional way, a god. Someone who loves his creations but also sees them as.. feeble. Needing guidance from the gods. It is a hubris that any god is capable of. Yet because of that, he is equally caring. This is the Pelor I had never seen. We have seen him be kind in a way with Vex, demanding with his followers, and unforgiving of the sins commited in his name, but we have not seen him gentle. And here, we see him so gentle. So caring for their creations. He wants them to survive, to feel more than just pain in existence. For the first time I truly believe he loves humanity. Maybe it will change in the next few episodes but for now.. I for the first time, care about him.

The Matron - Mmmmmaaaannnn I would expect nothing less than for Laura to play her. They are forever twined and I am so happy she is. The matron is.. so complex and I am stubborn and did not come into this believing I would feel anything but stubborn anger towards her for what she did to Vax even if she didn't really do anything wrong. I do believe she would have given him a long life but she could not and so she has instead chosen to keep him by her side and seeing this version of her... I can see it. I can see Vax giving her a sense of life that she has not felt in many many centuries.

As soon as Laura talked, I felt.. a warmth for her. A feeling, but I was not prepared on any level for the moment she said Purvan's name, to start sobbing. I don't know why but just knowing him and some of his journey, the mirror to Vax, the man who follows his queen and guarded her... I cried. I cried for him and I cried for her. I love that she is the goddess to know intimately what humans are capable of and knowing how little they would hesitate to destroy the gods. She also is willing to remind the gods of the fragility of man. I kinda love it. Damn it.

Melora - Man, the playing of her as relentless in her hunger is so interesting. Because nature exists to eat. Eating is survival. And survival is harsh and uncaring. Nature will not put compassion above survival. Melora is often played as warm and nature can be that but a world that has been choked by smoke and ash for a hundred years is a Melora that is haunted and starving. I love it.

I just really love the three all playing the gods they have been closest to or affect by in the campaigns. I love it. Its such a brilliant move.

[bluewolfangel01]

How would the brothers act during an argument?? Have a good day btw :3

Thank you anon, hope you have a good day too

Brothers during an Arguement

I feel like there's 2 levels of how they'll act depending on what happened; the "I'm going to kill you" where they'll rough up each other like typical siblings, or the "I'm going to kill you" where they'll leave whichever brother offended them on death's door

We often see Mammon owing Levi either money or something else for example, that's a typical siblings quarrel, the result of which is either Mammon doing a favor for Levi, Levi choosing a punishment for Mammon, or if it gets to the point where it's disturbing everyone else in the HoL Lucifer is going to intervene and string them both up

Such other examples include: Beel eating all the food in the house, misfired prank devised by the Anti-Lucifer League, destorying/stealing a personal item, etc

Now Satan may be the avatar of wrath but when any of the brothers get truly pissed off, it's hard to tell who's the true avatar of wrath

They can get so beyond angry, so beyond pissed, their aura can and will become so fear inducing that even Mc can't help but be scared of their beloved demons if there's ever a "I'm going to kill you" type arguement

Of course one of them must have done something almost unforgivable for any of the brothers to get to that level of pure wrath, except for Satan of course, he's a ticking time bomb but he's ours :)

Lucifer: any arguement he's apart of (where he didn't have to intervene in the first place) is typically because one of his brothers didn't listen to him, a more destructive than typically Anti-Lucifer League prank is pulled, or his belongings are messed with

Mammon: ... it's Mammon, almost any arguement he's apart of is because of money to some form or another, if it doesn't involve money then the next likelihood is that he's had enough of being called a scumbag or some variation of degrading name

Levithan: the topic, most of the time, involves his otaku collection, whether he's being hindered from getting more stuff to add to the collection, it's been defaced to any capacity, or it's been sh!t talked to such an extent that Levi can't help but to defend it with all his might

Satan: everything and anything, it's Satan, though if you want to get a bit more specific the topics might typically be the brothers being loud, a Lucifer prank gone wrong, or his book was damaged

Asmodeus: he'll probably get into an arguement if one of the brothers messes with his room, his clothes, his makeup, his beauty/self care routine, his chance to get with a potential partner, stuff like that

Beelzebub: he's not one to get mad or into arguements easily but if he does it's because of something like one of the brothers ate something he had his name on, one of the brothers picking on Belphie (mainly when Belphie isn't in the mood/isn't doing okay) ... I'm going to be honest I can't think of much Beel would get into a fight about rn

Belphegor: He'll typically get into a fight because the brothers are being to loud for his liking, for some reason or another the brothers stop him from sleeping for an extended period, or he's to tired to deal with the brothers' schemes/shenanigans

Im dealing with a bit of writer's block so the ideas started to fizzle out towards the end there. Sorry for taking a bit to answer your ask