#i really need to get the judgement games

[designernishiki]

noticed that the ps app now shows how many hours you’ve spent on a game if youve recently played it and uh. im clearly very normal about yakuza 0

[callophelia-ailingamnemonic]

Thinking about making fandom-themed tarot cards but I dunno which fandom to make which card (Pt 2)

• Persona 1

• Persona 2

• Persona 3

• Persona 4

• Persona 5

What top three tarot cards do y'all think would best fit each of these games and why (please put your answers in the comments ;w;)? I'm looking for cards that match with their story's themes, major and minor (prefered, actually) arcanas are all on the table.

I haven't played nor seen Persona 1 or 2, but for P3 I was thinking of the Three (hah) of Swords or the Four of Cups, and for P5 I was thinking of the Eight of Swords or the Seven of Wands.

If we manage to assign a fandom to each card, I'm going to draw them all out as cards and sell em >:33

So please help ;-;

(If you're cool with helping but have no idea what the meaning of each card is, I have a 'Tarot Meanings' doc y'all can look at)

[jesusinstilettos]

I’m about to save you thousands of dollars in therapy by teaching you what I learned paying thousands of dollars for therapy:

It may sound woo woo but it’s an important skill capitalism and hyper individualism have robbed us of as human beings.

Learn to process your emotions. It will improve your mental health and quality of life. Emotions serve a biological purpose, they aren’t just things that happen for no reason.

1. Pause and notice you’re having a big feeling or reaching for a distraction to maybe avoid a feeling. Notice what triggered the feeling or need for a distraction without judgement. Just note that it’s there. Don’t label it as good or bad.

2. Find it in your body. Where do you feel it? Your chest? Your head? Your stomach? Does it feel like a weight everywhere? Does it feel like you’re vibrating? Does it feel like you’re numb all over?

3. Name the feeling. Look up an emotion chart if you need to. Find the feeling that resonates the most with what you’re feeling. Is it disappointment? Heartbreak? Anxiety? Anger? Humiliation?

4. Validate the feeling. Sometimes feelings misfire or are disproportionately big, but they’re still valid. You don’t have to justify what you’re feeling, it’s just valid. Tell yourself “yeah it makes sense that you feel that right now.” Or something as simple as “I hear you.” For example: If I get really big feelings of humiliation when I lose at a game of chess, the feeling may not be necessary, but it is valid and makes sense if I grew up with parents who berated me every time I did something wrong. So I could say “Yeah I understand why we are feeling that way given how we were treated growing up. That’s valid.”

5. Do something with your body that’s not a mental distraction from the feeling. Something where you can still think. Go on a walk. Do something with your hands like art or crochet or baking. Journal. Clean a room. Figure out what works best for you.

6. Repeat, it takes practice but is a skill you can learn :)

[peachesofteal]

Through Me (The Flood) - secret baby fic Simon Riley / female reader - warnings: discussion of past abuse, Simon’s trauma Request: take your baby to work day

You're wide eyed at the front door.

"You sure you guys will be alright?" Your voice is clear, but your hand trembles on the door handle, bottom lip tugged across your teeth.

"We'll be okay sweetheart. But if you're uncomfortable, or it's too much, you should take him-"

"No, no. I'm fine. You're not supposed to bring the baby to OB appointments anyway. It's frowned upon." You roll your eyes, tipping up to kiss Ry on the cheek. "Just... don't let anyone breathe on him, or kiss him, okay? His immune system is still fragile compared to ours. I packed you like, three bottles so hopefully he'll take them if he gets hungry. Text me if-"

"Mama." He holds Orion in one arm, and grabs your hand with the other. You're frightened, and stressed, and he's driven to comfort you, the need to soothe you throbbing across his skull. "I've got this. We'll be just fine. Text me when you're done. Get yourself a tea or something afterwards, alright? Everything is going to be okay." You nod.

"Right, of course. You're... you're right. And you're going to a military base, I doubt there's a safer place around."

"C'mere." He tugs you into his side, and you wrap your arms around his stomach, nestling in opposite Orion. "I need you to do something f'me."

"What?"

"I need you to swear to me you'll tell your doctor about the dizzy spells." There's been a reminder card about your twelve week postpartum appointment on the fridge for two weeks now, and after you finally confessed you have been getting dizzy since Orion was born, and one time had even fallen, he decided to skip several steps by making the appointment for you. You were... not pleased, but he made it very clear, he's not playing a game with your health. He's planning his battles strategically now, putting pieces in play slowly, working towards his larger goal, but this was something he refused to compromise on.

"Okay." You whisper, burying your face in his chest. "I will." He lands a kiss to the top of your head.

"We'll see you soon. It'll be over before you know it, and maybe we can get a takeaway for dinner?" Your lips crack into a toothy smile.

"Sounds good to me."

"Alright, lad. Let's go see daddy's team." Orion stares at him, brown eyes curious, and watchful. He’s still not used to it, this feeling. This life, with you and his baby. Everyday, he has to stop to ground himself, anchor himself. Break from the cycle of a downward spiral, obsessive thoughts playing with his mind, counting down the million and one ways he could lose you, or fail you, or both. He’s careful, he’s diligent, he’s in control. He’d never make a mistake like he did before, the error of judgement that cost him his mother, his brother and his family-

But the incessant fear never ceases.

Fortunately, his anchor now is you. You, when you let him carry you to bed, when you watch him rock Orion to sleep as you stand in the doorway, you who curls up next to him on the couch now, fingers curled into his shirt like you’re afraid he might disappear. Your touch heals. Your words comfort. He can't fathom a future without you, or Ry, now.

If he thinks back on it, he wonders if he knew all along. If all the things he felt the night he met really meant forever, just like he had wished. A fantasy turned reality-

to have and to hold.

His stomach turns, wondering if his father ever felt this, if he ever loved, or if he was always just a monster, the ouroboros of victim turned abuser, the man who terrorized his mother, his brother and himself, long past the time Simon finally tore him to pieces, cracked his ribs, beat him into the ground.

Tommy broke the cycle, and from the moment he laid eyes on his son he knew.... he would too.

Price's secretary looks like she's seen an actual ghost. "Hey, Lindsey. Is he in?" She's staring, flicking back and forth to Orion and then up to his face, mouth slightly agape.

"Y-yeah he's..." she points over her shoulder at his closed door. "Lieutenant, did you... is that... is that your baby?" He nods, mouth curving into a proud smile, stepping close enough so she can get a good look at him. She almost jerks back, clearly not used to being so close to him. He's been here and there, off and on base all week catching up on a backlog of reports, but hasn't said a word to anyone, and he keeps everyone on base at arm's length except the 141.

"It is." Her shocked expression melts, hesitantly reaching her pointer finger towards Ry, allowing him to wrap it up in his chubby little fist. "This is Orion." She smiles at him, and then the baby, kindly.

"He's beautiful." She excuses herself when the phone rings, and he settles the tension burning between his shoulder blades. He didn't mentally prepare for this moment, didn't believe he had to. The expectation of Price's acceptance was assumed but now, his trepidation is a surprise.

He told his captain he needed to take leave for something really important, but never said for what. All he told him is that he'd loop him in soon, and that he was sorry he wouldn't be available for the next op. If John was curious, he didn't let him know, didn't push him for more info, didn't pester him. He just sent the forms to Simon's email to be filled out with a postscript:

Looking forward to hearing what this is all about.

And when Simon crosses the threshold of his office, baby in one arm, backpack stuffed with nappies and bottles in the other-

John Price laughs.

It's not the huff of a chuckle that Kate usually gets out of him, or the rolling guffaw that he gives the guys sometimes when he's particularly amused.

No, this is different. It starts in his belly and then rolls upwards, all the way until his shoulders are shaking and he's wiping his eyes.

Simon scowls, and John holds both his hands up, palms out. Surrender. "This is a good enough reason as any to take a chunk of all that leave saved up." He stands, stepping around to get a closer look. "What's his name then?"

"Orion." John nods thoughtfully. The backs of his fingers brush along the baby's arm, gently, slowly, a flicker of longing, of sadness, arcing across his face before it dissipates.

"The giant hunter Zeus banished to the skies." Organized stacks of paper sit in neat little piles on top of John's desk, authorizations he'd know anywhere. They're moving out. "Where's his mum?"

"At a doctor's appointment." Orion gurgles, and Simon pats his back, bouncing him slowly from side to side.

"You with her?" The answer is immediate.

"Gonna marry her." John's eyes fill with mirth.

"But she doesn't know that yet, does she."

"No," Simon sighs, "but she will. 'ts why I needed the leave. Besides," he motions to the infant tucked in his arm, "this, helping take care of him, taking care of her, I need to get them moved to a secure location. She's in a second level flat right now, with street facing windows. It's makin' my skin itch." Price will get it, Simon knows he will understand. He has his own secret at home, tucked away in a house only Simon and Laswell know about, just in case.

"Take it slow, don't want to spook her. Although I can't imagine she's too skittish if she took you to bed." He smirks. "You've got the time you requested. Had to call in a substitute for this one, but we'll need you on the next."

"How long?"

"Five weeks, maybe more. I'll ring when we're back on base." Five weeks. The clock is ticking, a bomb waiting to detonate, a guillotine waiting to sever his time with his family, his duty dragging him away.

"Alright." He concedes. Cross that bridge when he comes to it.

If Price sees his reluctance, he doesn't comment on it. "Bird'll be here in six hours. Boys are in the rec room, if you want to see 'em." Simon nods, shifting the baby in his arms as he heads towards the door. "And Simon," he turns, locking eyes with his captain, raw emotion plain on both their faces. Price gives him a genuine smile. "Congratulations. You're going to be a great father."

There's a lump in his throat as he crosses the campus to the rec room, his nose dipping across Ry's head, breathing him in as deep as he can behind the black cloth mask. "He's gonna be your godfather, little man. We just have to get Mama to agree, don't we?" He tugs the building's door open, ignoring the streams of chatter suddenly grinding to a halt in the hallway. Once he makes it to the rec room and sees that no one else is inside, just Johnny and Gaz battling it out in an intense game of pool, he slips the mask off his face and locks the door.

Soap is the first one to see him. "Steeeamin' jesus, LT is that a bairn!?" Kyle chokes on his water.

"Is that your baby, Riley?" They both scramble forward, Johnny whistling in disbelief.

"Aye, he's got to be. Look at the size of 'im."

"Johnny." Simon gives him the 'settle down' look, but the Sergeant only grins impishly.

"He's hers, innit he?" Gaz reaches, and Orion watches him with interest. "The girl from the bar. The one who lives close to me." Johnny's eyes go wider than globes.

"Ach Ghost, ye been busy wit' that boa-"

"Johnny." He hisses, and Kyle barks a laugh, reaching. Simon doesn't balk about handing Orion over, even though you were cautious about letting other people be around him. This is his team. He trusts them implicitly.

"He's a heavy lad, isn't he?" Kyle bounces him back and forth, all the while Ry stares at him with his head tipped back, mesmerized. "Looks jus' like you."

"Maybe a wee bit more handsome." Johnny's leaning around Kyle, his hand on Ry's back. They're mooning over him, two decorated, strategically brilliant sergeants, cooing at a baby like a bunch of sooks, as Johnny would say.

His phone vibrates in his pocket, a text from you letting him know you're finished, and heading home.

>Has he eaten?

>No, hasn't seem interested.

>Thank god.

Knowing you're probably in pain makes him antsy to get back, and he glances at the guys. "You movin' out in a few hours?"

"Aye, lookin' for some sort of stolen intelligence. Shouldnae be too long. Got a rent-a-Lieutenant and everythin'. Ye'll be back for the next?"

"I will. Stay frosty out there. I expect you all back in one piece."

He triple checks the carseat, testing the straps and the strength of the seatbelt before finally deciding it's secure enough, for the hundredth time today. He takes one last look, and presses a kiss to Orion's head. "Ready, bub? Let's go home and see mama."

[moonstruckme]

rooomate james. 😭😭 literally obsessed w himm!!

Me too I love him (and you!) sm <3

part 1 │ part 2 │ part 3 │ part 4 │part 5 │ part 6 │ part 7 │ part 8 │ part 9 │ part 10 │ part 11 │ part 12 │ part 13

roommate!James x shy!reader ♡ 808 words

You don’t recognize James’ car until he shouts at you. 

“Hey!” 

You give a little jump, turning midair to find James smiling out the rolled-down window. 

“Want a lift?” 

“God, you scared me!” You backtrack and open the passenger door. The seat looks to have been tidied in a hurry, receipts and takeaway containers tossed into the backseat. “How’d you even know I’d need a ride?” 

James refrains from responding to give you an expectant look. You roll your eyes and buckle your seatbelt. Satisfied, he puts the car in reverse, setting his hand on your seat to look behind him as he backs out of the parking spot. 

“You weren’t home when I got there,” he says, “and then I remembered on Sundays you usually get off at eleven, so here I am. Is Art not with you?” 

“No, he wasn’t working tonight.” 

James doesn’t seem too disappointed by this. He pulls onto the street. You watch him, looking almost unconsciously for signs of wear and tear. 

Now that rugby season is in full swing, he’s gone not just during the day for training but sometimes overnight for away games. You’ve been alone in your apartment for the whole weekend while he played in London and then Bristol. It was weird. You think you’ve accidentally grown used to having James around. You don’t fancy yourself a very tactile person, and the urge to hug him isn’t terribly strong, but it’s there. 

“How was work?” he asks you. 

“It was fine. How were your matches?” 

“They were fine,” he imitates you, grinning. “No, it’s like I said. Winning the second one’s always better than winning the first and losing the second. It’s nice to end on a good note.”

He’d texted continual updates while he was gone. You sat on your couch, pretending to yourself or perhaps to some invisible, judgemental observer that you were watching TV when really you were entirely focused on James’ texts. You imagined him sitting in his hotel room doing the same, or maybe in a pub with his teammates, smiling at his phone each time you responded. 

Your imagination has become terribly overindulgent lately. 

“Honestly, I was pretty disappointed you weren’t home when I got there,” James says, a familiar teasing lilt to his voice. “I was hoping to come in and catch you wearing one of my jumpers and staring tearily at a framed photo of me.” 

You roll your eyes, but your face burns. You did use his shampoo, once. In your defense, you’d run out of yours, but you thought that it wouldn’t be so bad to smell like him, nice and fresh and comforting. It had foamed more than you expected. It did smell really nice, but it made your hair feel dry (boy shampoo always does that, you’ve no idea how James’ curls seem to thrive under such poor treatment) and you felt silly about it for days, lovesick in the most derogatory sense. 

Didn’t stop you from sniffing your hair occasionally, though. 

“You weren’t gone to war,” you reply. “And where would I get a framed photo of you?” 

James looks affronted. “I assumed you already had one. How did you get through the weekend without even a photo? You brave, brave girl.” 

“I actually threw a rager,” you deadpan. “Rented out your room to six people traveling through with the carnival and let them invite over all their friends. Did loads of hard drugs.” 

“Well, we all have different ways of coping.” He reaches over to squeeze your shoulder consolingly. You pretend goosebumps don’t skitter all the way down your arm from the brief touch. “And what a marvelous job you’ve done covering up your escapades!” He exclaims as you pull up in front of the apartment. “I haven’t come across the cocaine dust on our bathroom counter yet, so you must have really done a thorough cleanup.” 

“Keep looking, it’s around there somewhere.” 

James laughs. You’re slower getting out of the car than he is, and by the time you emerge he’s in front of you, pulling you into a hug. You think your bones liquefy. He’s warm and strong and he smells like his shampoo, both arms squishing you heartily before he lets go with a little laugh. 

“Sorry,” he says, bringing his hands to your upper arms, “I didn’t even ask. I just missed you, you know?” James has this look on his face, smile brilliant and eyes wide open. So saccharine sweet you almost can’t look at him. “Guess I got used to having you around.” 

You do your best to smile back. “Yeah, me too.” 

He squeezes your arms before turning to go inside. “You smell like Italian food, too. I don’t suppose you’ve cooked anything recently that’s still in the fridge? I’m beginning to think about second dinner.” 

[barcaatthemoon]

better off alone || barcelona x teen!reader ||

the team finds out that your foster parents left.

you were dead meat. jona wasn't there to vouch for you anymore. this season was sure to be your last. barcelona was on the verge of being done with you, and you weren't ready to go somewhere else and start over. having someone there to take care of you in a new city would be easier than your current situation, but you felt like you had found a family in your barcelona teammates.

they cared about you more than anybody else had. you had been bounced around foster homes and care facilities your entire life. this family wasn't good by any means, they had left you all alone after all, but your teammates more than made up for it. you had finally started to feel like a real person, and it was going to be yanked away from you in a matter of moments.

"where the hell have you been? you do know that we have a game later today, yes?" alexia grabbed onto your arm and dragged you inside. you stumbled a little trying to keep up with her. you were nearly an hour late for the pre-game training, but arrived just in time for the team meeting and the warm ups.

"sorry i was late, i tried to get here as fast as i could," you told her. it was the truth, and alexia was mad enough about you being late that she wouldn't pry. that was something you liked about dealing with alexia, her anger often clouded her judgement enough to never look too closely at the small details. she was easy to lie to because she'd generally accept the first excuse you threw her way.

"just go to the locker room, i'm going to talk to your parents," alexia told you. you wordlessly walked to the locker room and changed into your practice kit. you took the first open seat you saw, which was next to irene near the middle. everybody else was filing in as well, so you didn't draw too much attention.

"we missed you this morning," irene said calmly as she put her arm around your shoulders. you instinctively curled into her side. she didn't know the specifics of what you went through at home, but she always made sure to take care of you when she could. most of the team knew how close you were, but only alexia had an issue with it. she believed that irene babied you too much and that's why you were so "irresponsible" in alexia's eyes.

"sorry, i didn't have a ride here," you told her. you always told irene more than you'd ever tell alexia or the other captains. marta was torn between being tough on you like what alexia wanted and caring for you like irene did. you liked her well enough, but you didn't really talk with her much. patri, however, she was the one who you truly avoided whenever you were in a troubling situation. she took alexia's words to heart, and the two of you often butted heads.

"where are your parents?" irene asked.

"it's a long story," you mumbled. irene didn't like that answer and was about to press for more when alexia burst through the doors echoing the same question.

"(y/n), where are your parents!" you winced at the sound of alexia's voice and all of the eyes turning towards the two of you. you tried to turn into irene, but she wouldn't let you. with everybody staring at you and your secret on the verge of being put out into the world, you did what you knew how to do and bolted.

nobody made a move to catch you as they assumed you'd run towards hte exit alexia was blocking. that was how you made your escape, going the long way and making it all the way out of the stadium from the back. you ran until your lungs were burning, and then you ran just a bit further knowing that nobody was going to just leave and chase after you until after the game. you may never get another chance to play for barcelona, but you were on the way out anyway.

…

"you've got a lot of people scared right now. i know that you're probably also very scared right now, but i need you to come back with me please." of all the people you had expected to find you, olga wasn't very far up on the list. you knew alexia had to have asked her to look for you, but olga didn't know you well enough to know about your special spot.

"how did you find me?" you asked her as you stood up. you were a good few inches taller than the woman, always having been tall for your age. you seemed to still be growing, just half an inch shorter than fridolina.

"alexia gave me her phone, which has your phone's location. i don't know what use it is for her, she can't figure out how it works in the first place," olga laughed. you let her lead you back to the car without running away. "so, um, do you want to talk about what happened?"

"i was late for team stuff again, and it's not like they'll renew me. my contract has been up in the air for months now, and after this, i'm done for. maybe i can go somewhere else, but that's getting put in another home. i can't do that again, so i ran off hoping that nobody would find me," you rambled. olga took everything you were saying in, staying silent as she processed it.

"has anything happened at the home you're in now? alexia mentioned your parents a couple times, but not in a while," olga asked you. she looked like she was working through things in your head.

"they're gone, like for good. apparently, taking care of me wasn't worth the check. i've got too many obligations to keep up with," you repeated their words to olga, whose grip tightened on the steering wheel. the two of you ended up catching the last bit of the game, and olga brought you up to sit with alexia's family.

there were a lot of eyes on you, whispering going on around you because you weren't on the field. when the whistle blew for full time, you were brought down to the field. you tried to hide behind everybody around you, but it was no use. your practice kit stuck out in the sea of normal barcelona jerseys. it made it easy for your teammates to come and find you.

"ale, before you say anything to (y/n), we have to talk," olga said. you were grateful for the woman as your captain was led away. the other captains followed them at alexia's request, and you could see them talking to each other from the corner of your eye.

"don't be so scared of her. ale's not as scary as you think," alba said as she squeezed your hand. "just look at how olga bosses her around."

"they're going to fire me," you mumbled. there were tears in your eyes, ones that all of the people around you had been waiting for you to let go. it was obvious that you were terrified, and most of the people not on the team could see you for the scared little girl that you were.

"relax, go get yourself a drink and sit down," eli told you. her tone was gentle, yet commanding. there was no room for you to disobey the woman, so you grabbed the bottle with your name taped on it and sat down on the grass. nobody had approached you yet, even though you knew that your teammates had seen you. they were all waiting for one of your captains to go over there first.

instead of one of them, you got all of them. they stood around you in a circle, waiting patiently for you to acknowledge them. "i guess you know about my foster parents now."

"we do, and that's why we're giving you options. you can't live on your own, not this young. you are a part of this team, one of us, and we take care of our own. it's not permanent, but you will need to pick one of us to stay with for a couple of weeks while we talk to the club," alexia told you. you looked at the women standing before you.

"i don't understand. aren't you still mad at me for being late?" you asked her. alexia shook her head as she knelt in front of you.

"my anger has been misplaced, and i am sorry about that. i've been harsh on you, and i have been shown the error of my ways. for official purposes, you have to stay with one of us, but after that, other arrangements can be made," alexia promised you. you looked between all of them, overwhelmed with the option to choose.

…

"does this make me eligible for the norway camp?" you asked as you looked at the signatures on your adoption papers.

"what are you talking about? you're spanish," marta said as she ruffled your hair.

"actually, i'm not. they don't really know where i'm from, i just play in barcelona," you told her. marta's eyes widened as she raced out of the room to call alexia. you glanced at caro, who was trying to hold back a smile. "you aren't going to try and stop her?"

"oh please, we both know that you wouldn't play for another country. you're spanish in all the ways that count." she had a point, even if you'd never tell marta. you thought it was kind of funny watching her and alexia come up with more and more propaganda and bribes to keep you in a spanish kit. soon enough, they'd enlist the rest of your spanish teammates to the cause.

"yeah, but look at her. it's funny," you pointed out. the two of you walked out to the car, just in time to catch marta trying to plot something over the phone. you sat in the back of the car as they took you home, glad to finally have a permanent home with people willing to truly look after you. you weren't just a check to marta and caro, which was a welcome change.

[ashherahh]

your first date + first interactions with your future spouse

Note: Please take it if it resonates, leave it if it doesn't. Meditate before making your decision. It's completely okay if you don't resonate with this reading. The collective is huge and I'm sure you'll receive the messages you need in due time.

pile 1

Cards: King of Wands, The Sun, Temperance, The Fool, Four of Wands

I literally giggled when the first card popped out! This is a very much a "When I see you, it's on sight" kinda situation.

I'm not saying you'll get hot and heavy on your first date (maybe), but I'm picking up that the attraction is very energetic and very, very strong. You feel like you met someone who matches your freak in every way.

I'm seeing a lot of smiling, giggling. They make you nervous, you'll probably not realise how much you're blushing until you decide to go to the restroom and see how absolutely down bad you look. You'll leave the date with your cheeks hurtin'!

I'm picking up a very chilled setting as a first date, the date itself is very low-key but damn, the vibes... The vibes are immaculate. Either you or your future spouse immediately know that you're it for each other. Maybe both of you realise it at the same time!

For some of you, you might be on a dating app or your friends put you on the dating up and you matched with your future spouse. The conversation was quite normal, no real fireworks and that's why your first date was at a very neutral place. But y'all, when you see each other and start talking and laughing, FIREWORKS!

For others, I see you apart of the same group of people. Like you might have mutual friends and see each other at parties and events or whatever. They always caught your eye and you always caught theirs but you never really spoke to each other. There's an image clearly in my mind for some of you, you're sitting on the couch with this person while a party is dying down (finally, sort of alone). There's sparks, connection, it's all so intimate.

I'm seeing New Year's might be significant for this pile. There's a lot of physical and spiritual attraction here. It's also very giddy. It's that feeling you get when you just can't stop laughing, an overwhelming joy.

pile 2

Cards: Two of Swords, Judgement, Five of Swords, Wheel of Fortune, Six of Cups, Three of Wands

Your future spouse plans your first date. They really wine and dine you actually. They're more of a romantic than you are. When you meet your future spouse, one of you is looking to settle down and be in an exclusive, proper relationship and one of you is on the fence.

My dear reader, I feel like you'll be the one on the fence.

For some of you, there's a person in your past you felt like should've been your end game but it seemed like there was something always missing. You might be in a state of right person, wrong time and it's left you feeling hopeless. You're sorting of still waiting on them...

When you meet your future spouse, it's like you're going on a series of dates to get this past lover out of your mind. Your future spouses energy is very gentle and understanding, but you're not really paying attention in the beginning. They are willing to wait for you.

This isn't an immediate knowing. You don't know this person is your future spouse when you meet them, you might be seeing a few people while seeing them. I'm not seeing cheating but I am seeing is that you two don't get exclusive immediately.

You're feeling out your options. Deep down you're afraid of making the wrong one and a part of you is like, is there even a wrong one? Do I believe in stuff like The One? Your past lover did a number on you, I can see.

I do see that everything eventually comes to a head and you need to make a decision, I see you making the right one for yourself in that space and time. Don't worry, your future spouse does stick around and I see you two smoothing all the rough patches.

pile 3

Cards: Strength, The Chariot, The Moon, Page of Pentacles, Two of Cups Rx, Ace of Swords Rx

Interactions with your future spouse leave you feeling like you're in a game of cat and mouse. Oh my goodness, they make you flustered! Oh, but you keep telling yourself they're not your type and you will not date someone like them.

You guys know of each other for a while. Maybe you went to the same schools or you even met them at uni and they just always left a sour taste in your mouth.

Hectic, I'm picking up strongly that you're turned off by them because they always have their foot in their mouth and they say dumb shit to you. That's hilarious! Be a little patient with them, you make them nervous.

Goodness, I see them treating you like royalty and they just want to be your loyal subject. Oooh, they literally just want to please you. If you ever do give them a chance just know that you're getting SPOILED.

They're going above and beyond for your first date and even though you have the impression of them that they're a bumbling oaf, you're surprised by how much attention to detail they put into everything. For some of you there's three parts to your first date, it'll last for hours actually and in that time, pile 3, they ended up cracking you open like a walnut!

You have to let your heart guide you in matters of the heart. Your mind will not be able to understand what your heart is telling you. This is especially the case as your future spouse challenges your idea of who you envisioned your future spouse to be. Good luck, babe!

[amyispxnk]

Grease and sweat

Summary - Another day, another venture out of the walls of the Boston QZ with Joel Miller. AKA, another day spent fantasizing about the burly man whom you spend most of your time with these days. When the two of you have to hole up for the night, things get a little heated, and you finally snap.

A/N: i started this oneshot like 6 months ago and finally found some random motivation today to finish it. and im not gonna spoil anything but like.. why has noone talked about this in a fic before? im literally salivating when he does this during the game and like.. yeah. idk. you’ll see.

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

Word count: 3.5k

Warnings: SMUT!! (oral f!receiving, unprotected PiV sex - don’t do this, especially during an apocalypse!, mentions of masturbation, lewd thoughts), language, age gap (roughly 15 years), firearms, pet names, fluff, aftercare

DO NOT COPY THIS FIC IN ANY WAY PLS AND TY.

“The fuck’re you lookin’ at, kid?” Joel practically spat, having noticed the way you were eyeing him whilst he worked.

You scoffed, walking up to the workbench he was currently using. Kid. You weren’t a kid. Sure, you were almost 15 years younger than him, but you certainly weren’t a kid.

“I’m 34, Joel. Not a kid.” You argued, leaning on the wall and watching him work.

He just grunted in response before resuming what he was doing before, starting with cleaning his pistol.

His fingers danced along the metal, digging into certain bits with the old rag he used to get any grime out, before he used the screwdriver to make a few adjustments to the handgun.

You never really understood how to do all the fancy things he did with his weapons, and you probably should considering how intently you watched him whenever the pair of you came across one of these old benches - but you couldn’t focus on the guns which were in his hands. His big, strong, rough hands. You’d trade places with those guns just to feel his hands on you like that. He took so much care of the damn things too, like they were the most precious things in his life. Always cleaning and repairing them like this, practically never letting you touch them.. What did those guns have that you didn’t? You thought to yourself as you watched him, gaze drifting to his fingers in particular. The ones you’d dreamt about far too many times, the ones you’d imagined inside of yourself rather than your own when you touched yourself. It was the way they moved, how thick they were, and how the veins in his hands and muscles flexed when he gripped his bow, and the way his arms would shine with his sweat as he worked. You’d lick the sweat off his body if he asked you to. Depraved as it sounds.

Not that you’d ever admit it.

Your absolutely maddening desire for and sickening crush on the man whom you knew close to nothing about. Just his name and a few things he revealed to you when the night was particularly long or the whisky he was having took a toll on his judgement, loosening him up for once. You knew where he was from, what his job was before, and you knew that he was basically just a grumpy old asshole who was only good for beating up guys when you went on supply runs.

He had never been overly kind to you, not that you needed it, had never asked you any questions, didn’t make small talk, and was a ruthless murderer.

You loved every single thing about him.

And you wanted to show him. You wanted him to love you back, no matter how he’d love you. You wouldn’t mind if he was a cold lover, a mean one - hell, he almost definitely was - you’d take him any way you could get him.

You looked back at his hands once more, subconsciously pulling your bottom lip between your teeth when he had to use his ring and middle fingers to clean out part of another gun, your thighs clenching together as you felt the all-too-familiar wetness start to form between them and making you groan when you realised you’d probably have to rub one out when you got back later. It was honestly annoying the amount of times you came by your own hand, his name on your lips, because you knew how much better it would feel if it was his thick fingers pushing into you, his big hands palming your breasts, his strong arms holding you down as he made you come over and over…

“Let’s get goin’.” He says suddenly, breaking you out of your thoughts as he tucks his gun away and slings his backpack on.

You push yourself off of the wall and follow him quickly, trying not to look flustered although you very much felt it.

He came to an abrupt stop when you reached your normal exit from this little pitstop en route to the guys who gave you weapons, and you almost walked face-first into his back.

“Joel? Wha-” you began, but he cut you off.

“This shouldn’t be closed.” He murmurs, like he’s talking to himself, not allowing you any time to respond before he’s going over to pull the chain which should open the garage door.

It doesn’t.

No matter how much he pulls on the metal, grunting and groaning and making your eyes flutter shut whilst you force your needy whimpers down with the noises he’s making, it barely opens, slamming shut every time he gets close to getting it open a quarter of the way.

“Fuck.” He grits, giving up and slamming his hand against the thing. It would be no use trying with that door anymore, the noise it was making was getting too loud anyway.

He stands there, clearly thinking hard about what to do. You can’t turn back because that would just lead you straight back to the QZ, which was useless to you right now, but you don’t have any other secured ways to get to your vendors - how could he have been so stupid to not plan ahead, he ridicules himself silently.

“Joel? What’s the plan?” You ask, getting slightly impatient with his constant silence. He may have been this hot brooding older man, but he could really leave you in the dark sometimes like this.

“Will you let me think, goddamnit?” He responds, clearly annoyed with your current predicament, scratching at his jaw before looking back up at you.

“Could try that window.” You suggest quietly, looking upwards. It was high and small, but you’d be able to get through it if he gave you a boost up.

He gave you a small nod before you both made your way up there and he got into position, hands outstretched and placed together as you got on and pushed yourself up. Normally, whenever he did this, you’d feel all dizzy afterwards from the proximity and his touch - but as soon as you looked out the window you were horrified. There were infected, just past the jammed door - and a whole lot of them. You weren’t getting past that. Forget the deal, you’d come back another day.

“Joel.” You say, not even realising you were whispering. He doesn’t answer.

“Joel! Joel, get me down.” You whisper-shout, and he furrows his brows.

“Why? What’s the matter?” He asks, and you have to fight against the urge to roll your eyes.

“Just get me down.” You say through clenched teeth, taking another look outside the window before he carefully lowers you. Of course, he boosts you up regularly, but he rarely ever tries to get you back down, so you stumble a bit and end up with your face against his chest as he falls back onto the wall slightly.

“Jesus, woman!” He grunts, but you don’t even try to move, you just look up at him with those fucking doe eyes of yours and it takes everything in him to not groan at the sight of you. God knows how many times he’s imagined you looking up at him whilst you sucked his cock, knelt on the floor with tears in your eyes and your hair all messy for him with your big eyes staring into his.

You open your mouth to speak, before realising the position you’re in and quickly standing up.

“I- there were infected outside, Joel.” You explain after a moment.

“So?” He questions you, squinting in confusion slightly. You’ve taken down infected before, no problem. What’s the issue today?

“No, like- I swear it looked like there were a hundred of them. Just this big fucking horde, right outside the garage door.” You gestured back towards the exit.

He clenched his jaw. Yeah, okay, you could take down some infected, not a hundred.

“Y’sure?”

“I’m fucking sure, Joel!” You almost yelled, way too many emotions going on in your body for you to act normal right now.

“Alright, alright, calm down.” He looked back outside. It was almost dark, there was no way you could get back to Boston in time now. It just wasn’t safe to go that far so late, and there was no point since you’d have to sneak by all the guards - who hopefully wouldn’t notice if you were gone for one night - to get back in.

“Go check all the doors, lock ‘em and then barricade ‘em. We’re gonna have to hold up here for tonight, then go back at dawn.” He decides, and you gape at him like a fish.

“We’re staying here?! Joel, what about curfew and the- the fucking infected right outside-” you start, but he silences you once again.

“We’re gonna be fine. When have things ever gone wrong for us since you started comin’ out with me?” He questions sternly, and you ponder it.

Never, really. He always saved you, and you’d save him when he needed it - even though it was only a handful of times he did.

“‘Kay, fine. Whatever.” You mumble stubbornly before turning round to go secure the doors leading to the small mechanic store you’d be staying in.

He looks around himself for any openings and closes them up before you both end up back in the main room.

It’s mostly silent as you look around at different things, poking at the ruined cars and whatnot whilst he sits on a crate and watches you as discreetly as possible.

“I have a question.” You say, turning to face him and making him snap his head away from you before you notice he was looking at you already.

He grunts to tell you to continue speaking, looking back at you when you do.

“Could you like.. show me how to fix up my guns and stuff? ‘Cause you always do it for me and I just thought it was.. Cool.” you murmur, trailing off at the end.

He actually lets out a small laugh at that. Not in a mean way, necessarily, just kind of teasingly.

“Cool?” He repeats with raised eyebrows.

“Yeah, cool. It just- with all the attachments and shit. And I can never clean them properly.” You sigh, walking up closer to him. “Please? We’ve got nothing else to do.”

The sound of you saying please for him in that small voice wins him over. “Fine.” He gets up off the crate, walking back over to the workbench and flicking the light on before taking your gun from you. He talks you through it, shows you a little how to clean it before letting you try it yourself, and then he shows you how to add a scope to it. You can’t quite grasp it though, not being strong and precise enough to attach it properly, so he places his hands on top of yours and helps you screw it on.

The contact makes you shudder so violently that he definitely felt it, and you want to crumple into the ground.

“What was that for?” He murmurs, and you almost jump at how close he is now, voice loud and breath hot on the side of your face as he leans over your shoulder to look at the gun whilst he tries to help you.

“No-nothing.” You squeak, breathing at least ten times faster now.

He feels it. He knows. He has to know, you’d been so stupid and revealed it all now. Joel Miller was not an idiot and he knew how you felt and he’d hate you for it. Your thoughts spiralled.

“Nothin’, huh?” He taunts, a smirk pulling at his lips as he watches you slowly crumble. To make it worse, he turns you in his hold, so you’re pinned with your back to the desk and his hands on either side of you.

“Y’alright, darlin’? You look awfully hot. Don’t got a fever or nothin’?” He mumbles, seeing how far he can push you as he leans in closer.

“I-I’m fine.” You say quietly, mesmerised by the sight of his face so close as you notice little details you’d never noticed before, barely even realising his lips are so close to your own until he’s pressing them to yours.

You make a slight noise of surprise before you get lost in it. The feeling of his lips against yours was something you’d dreamed about for so long, and now it was finally happening.

Your hands come up and around his neck, pulling him closer towards you as he deepens the kiss, forcing his tongue inside your mouth and overpowering you immediately as he pushes you back onto the workbench, sitting you on top of it and already working open the buttons of your jeans.

He kisses you one more time before getting to his knees and pulling your pants completely off, eyeing your panties, a dark patch in the middle of them from your growing arousal.

“Joel, please.” You whimper from above him as his hands run up your legs, coming to your inner thighs before toying with the elastic of your panties.

“Y’need me here, darlin’?” He asks, smirking up at you as his fingers move to rub slow circles into your clit through the fabric.

“Fuck!” You gasp at the contact, needy and desperate for him by this point. “Yes, please- please Joel.” You’re reduced to begging already, something you figure only he had the power to make you do.

He shushes you gently, fingers slowly peeling your panties down and groaning at the sight of your bare cunt, dripping and pulsing with need.

“Fuck, baby. Such a pretty pussy, so fuckin’ wet. This all for me?” He hums, dragging a finger up and down your slit, gathering your wetness on it and sucking it into his mouth as he looks up at you.

You whine at the sight of him between your legs like this, not knowing how you’re going to survive when he actually makes contact with you, and nod furiously.

“Yes, oh my god. Yes, it’s all for you Joel.” You say quickly, and he seems satisfied with that answer, finally moving his face to your core and making you squirm as his hot breath fans over your pussy.

“Stop fuckin’ movin’.” He murmurs, seemingly enraptured by the sight of you, staring for a few seconds and making you want to shift away again under his intense gaze, but he has an arm on you to make sure you don’t move.

And then he finally, finally, licks a long stripe up your pussy, tongue running along your wet folds. And you fucking lose it.

“Oh my god, Joel, please. Fuck- fuck, please, more-” you start begging, moaning loudly as he picks up the pace and continues to devour you, drinking down your wetness, and eventually kissing and sucking at your clit. His fingers, those thick gorgeous fingers you’d dreamed of for so long, tease your entrance before he’s pushing those inside, making you wail at the feeling of something inside of you, getting you closer to that release you were aching for by this point.

“Fuck, yes!” You cry out, thighs shaking slightly as you feel yourself getting close.

“That’s right, baby. You like that?” He asks, voice an octave lower as he pumps his fingers in and out of your tight heat, tongue still working you over relentlessly.

“Please- it feels so good-” you whine in response, fingers grasping for something to hold onto, to tether yourself to earth with as you feel yourself start to float away. Finding his hair and tugging slightly which makes him groan.

“Good girl.” He praises, adding another finger. He curls his fingers, searching for your g-spot and finding it easily.

You moan weakly at the praise, hips bucking as you grind yourself against his mouth, the ridge of his nose stimulating your clit perfectly as your fingers pull at his hair, and before you know it, you’re coming with a hoarse scream of his name.

You see white as your thighs quiver around his head, tensing and squeezing slightly as he continues to work you through it, lapping at your juices until you cry out from the overstimulation.

He removes his fingers from your hole, licking them clean once more before standing up and removing his own clothes, revealing his hard cock and making your eyes widen slightly.

Of course he was big, you’d stared at the bulge of his jeans enough times to realise that, and you’d imagined it before, but it all paled in comparison to finally seeing it.

He was long, slightly curved, girthy with a flushed red tip which had precome leaking out of it as he pumped himself slowly with a smirk on his face.

“Cat got your tongue, pretty girl?” He hums teasingly, and you can’t even think straight anymore, just pulling him forward and kissing him hungrily as he positioned his cock at your slick entrance.

Needy little whines and whimpers flowed freely from your mouth straight into his, where he swallowed them whole before starting to push into you.

You part from the kiss suddenly, gasping as he pushes deeper and deeper, stretching you thoroughly, and you feel grateful that he has the decency to start off slow since you already feel like crying from how big he is, how fucking good it feels.

When he bottoms out, you’re already wrecked. He’s huge inside of you, and you can feel everything. Every single ridge, vein, and twitch of his pulsing cock as your walls hug him tightly.

“Y’okay?” He murmurs softly, making your heart swell at how tender he sounds right now, and you nod in response.

“Joel.. please move.” You whisper, and he complies, grabbing your hips and barely giving you a moment to think before he’s starting to pound into you, making you squeal as your arms came around his neck, nails digging into his back before his head ducks down into the crook of your neck, kissing and sucking at your pulse point and making you clench harder around him, before moving down to your breasts, palming them and taking one of your nipples into his mouth as you scream his name.

“Joel! I’m gonna- gonna come- oh god, please!” You cry out, back arching. He growls, picking up the pace. He could feel his orgasm building, but he needed you to come first, needed to feel your tight walls clenching and gushing around him before he even considered his own pleasure.

“Come on, baby. Give me one more and I’ll fill you up. Fuck this little cunt full of me.. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” He says, voice low and husky as his balls slap against your ass, the loud sound of your wetness filling the room as you start to tremble once more.

“Yes! Fuck, Joel. Need it so bad. Want your come inside of me. Please, Joel.” You gasp, making him groan as his fingers move down to rub at your clit.

“Come for me, baby.” He encourages, speeding up even more and hitting that spot inside of you that makes you see stars, making you scream as you come and dissolve into a shaking, whimpering mess whilst he continues to thrust into you.

“That’s it, darlin’. Come all over my cock.” He grunts, his own release approaching quickly. The sounds of your moans and cries are enough to set him off, barely thrusting a few more times before stilling and filling you with his hot seed, slowly fucking it even deeper inside of you before pulling out and looking at you.

Skin flushed, panting heavily, come leaking down your thighs. You looked perfect. He wished that cameras were still around so he could take a picture of how you looked right now, keep it in his pocket wherever he went. But he couldn’t, and he realised you probably needed cleaning up now as your hazy eyes blinked open and looked at him. You were quiet, thinking about what this meant for the two of you now. Would he go back to being the cold man you knew? Would he be even colder? Would he suddenly be attentive and caring towards you?

You supposed you got your answer when he gently cupped your face, thumb stroking your cheek as he looked at you with something scarily close to love in his eyes, the gaze he’d somehow managed to conceal from you all these months which he could now finally show you.

“You okay?” He murmurs, and you nod weakly in response. He hums, giving you another small kiss before walking off to go get a rag to clean you up with.

“Hold on, let me just..” he mumbles to himself as he goes to try clean off any dust from the rag, before returning to between your thighs and cleaning away any evidence of your previous activities, tossing the rag somewhere and handing you your clothes. You get dressed quietly before he takes your hand and leads you over to a space on the floor where you set up your sleeping bags, putting them as close together as possible until he eventually just lets you tuck yourself into his, wrapping his strong arms around you from behind and falling asleep.

You listen to his soft snores, feel his calloused hands on your stomach where they snaked under your shirt before he fell asleep, and smile to yourself softly before falling asleep with him.

Thank you so much for reading, I hope you enjoyed! Likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated and my requests are open 💞

[mychapel-004]

FNAF SPOILERS! SCROLL! TALKING ABOUT THE SPRINGLOCK SCENE!

i’ve seen so many people discussing the springlock scene in both negative and positive ways and i think it brings up really cool points about how matthew played that scene and balanced fan expectations with his own characterisation.

i think the discussions around this movie have rlly exposed the disconnect between fanon and canon in fnaf, especially talking abt the core games in isolation, bc frankly in the game universe (ignoring the books) we get Very Little characterisation for William other than the obvious, but Matthew managed to add so much in the way he talks and his body language.

in the reveal scene, we see afton at arguably his peak. in his first scene, he comes off as somewhat demeaning and judgemental until he recognises mike’s name, at which point he seems to have this nervous energy, rushing to cover it up but stumbling slightly, his reaction to the tables being turned even slightly is massive.

this is a man who committed multiple mrdrs in essentially broad daylight, hid the bodies in the most obvious place, and still got away with it, and then kept the crime scene as a trophy of his actions, and an ongoing prison sentence for his victims. he has been in complete control for decades, and is confident that he can deal with any kind of threat quickly. his confidence in his reveal is palpable

it changes when vanessa shoots him. the whole parallel with vanessa and the animatronics is hugely interesting too- how william refers to the animatronics almost endearingly as “kids” when he wants them to obey, how both vanny and the animatronics have an unearned loyalty to him, almost a pseudo-adoption through what he did to them, taking them from their parents and keeping them under his thumb, forever stuck as naive, forgiving, obedient children. vanessa breaking from that control shakes him, but the mask slips back into place almost immediately.

then, he’s outsmarted by the brother of one of his victims, and the child he planned to end next. his pseudo-children turn on him and he can no longer manipulate his appearance or shed his skin to escape. he explodes on them, and his language is incredibly telling that he is being dishonest.

he calls them small, trying to belittle them into submission, even though they are ten feet tall metal animatronics powered by rage. he is grasping at straws to regain control, and failing miserably.

finally, the springlocks go off. the locks in the movie look more like a ribcage, so the first two likely puncture his lungs. they’re slow, and painful, but he doesn’t scream or beg or sob. he grunts and groans, gritting his teeth and only letting out sounds of pain that sound almost involuntary. there is no way in hell he would visibly let himself show weakness or pain in front of these creatures that he believes he has control over. he isn’t brought to his knees until there are eight metal spikes embedded in his abdomen. he doesn’t let the mask fall for even a second, until he literally PUTS THE ACTUAL MASK ON and finally collapses. even then, he’s fighting for consciousness, twitching and writhing with no control over his body. william afton thrives on control, and his soul will not rest until he gets it back.

it’s why he keeps the pizzeria- he always comes back. he can’t help but return to the scene of the crime, putting on his old costume, continuing his killings. he revels in being a constant threat on the horizon. and now, he knows he is going to die, and he knows the suit will bring him back, and noone will be able to get rid of him then. so he puts the mask back on, and waits.

in terms of the sfx- they’re pretty accurate. with stab wounds, you need to leave the knife in the wound as long as possible for best chance of survival, as it stops the blood from escaping. in terms of the springlocks, there wouldn’t be copious amounts of blood as the locks are keeping the wounds filled- which is good because it means a slower, more painful death.

[hermetiqa]

What will your future spouse's friends think of you?

Reminder: it doesn't matter if you saw this reading a day or a week or a month or a year after posting this. My readings are timeless. You'll see this when you're meant to see this and receive your message.

Close your eyes and take a deep breath before picking a pile. If you feel drawn to more than one pile, it's alright, you may take the piles that you're drawn to. What's important is to take it how it resonates and leave what doesn't.

PAID READINGS | TIP JAR | FEEDBACK | MASTERLIST

NOTE: Please feel free to give me a feedback on my asks about the reading! I would highly appreciate it and it'll be a huge help for me to improve as a reader.

PILE 1

Hello, Pile 1! I'm seeing that your future spouse's friends will think of you as someone who's very hardworking and career-oriented. I can see that you have some strong masculine energy here. You could have fire and air signs in your chart, I'm hearing Aries, Leo, and Libra mostly. I can also see that they'll think of you as someone who's very changed your future spouse. It's like your future spouse is someone who likes to play games and never ever became serious in relationships, but that changed because of you. And because of this, your future spouse's friends are scared that you might be the one playing the game now (this is when you're still dating/in a relationship, basically not yet married). They'll think of you as someone who's untrustworthy, it's like they can never trust you with something because you might snitch on them or betray them in some way. Basically, I don't see that they'll like you much at first. Despite their admiration for your great qualities especially when it comes to your independence and goals in life, they're scared that you might hurt your future spouse (when you're still dating) and not hesitate to leave them anytime when it's not working out, and they know that your future spouse will never get over you because again, this will be the first time that they'll get serious in a relationship. But after a while and when you're married, your future spouse's friends will eventually warm up to you and like you, and they'll start to be friends with you and realize that they're wrong about you all along.

PILE 2

Hello, Pile 2! So I'm seeing that your future spouse's friends will think of you as someone who's very has good judgement in almost everything. You know how to see things in different perspectives at the same time, you're almost never biased in anything even in difficult situations. I can see that you have the tendency to make difficult situations often, but you still make the right decision most of the time (if not all). They have a lot of admiration for you and they look up to you. They see you as a great person, even a role model for the younger ones. They'll think you have a lot of good things in the future with your future spouse. You'll have a wonderful future ahead of you together. There might be times that you need some time alone, but you still manage to socialize. Your future spouse's friends will see you as someone who's very friendly and charming. You charm a lot of people. You're also very smart for them and you know a lot of things. You have a wide knowledge when it comes to information, especially social issues and/or anything related to business. I feel like some of your future spouse's friends will even come to you for some advice because they see you as a really matured person who can handle everything. They look up to you and they think you're such a lover person. It's like you care for everyone and you take good care of everyone as much as you can, especially the ones who need it. 01:10 on the clock. Do I need to say more? They'll like you sooo much. I'm happy for you, Pile 2!

PILE 3

Hello, Pile 3! I feel like your future spouse's friends will think of you as someone who's very competitive and likes to argue about anything. You're quite stubborn in their eyes and they don't want to be in a conflict with you ever. They know they'll never win against you and you'll defend yourself and stand on your stance at all times. You always find your way around things and despite their admiration for this trait of yours, they also get annoyed by it. It's quite too much for them because it reaches to the point that you upset or hurt them without realizing it, whether intentionally or unintentionally, though it's mostly the latter part. You're good at communicating but you reallh have the tendency to be stubborn. If something doesn't make sense to you, you want them to make it make sense. Otherwise, you'll set it aside and forget about it later. You have this trait that you want honesty and the truth all the time. You want justice for everything. If someone does you dirty, you'll make sure that they'll pay. And your future spouse's friends see and know that, which is why they do their best not to upset you in any way. They don't want to be in a conflict with you because you have the tendency to be in a conflict with people and this is something you're not scared of. Your future spouse's friends also see you as someone witty but at the same time, has the tendency to be impulsive most of the time. You tend to let your emotions lead and control you, not the other way around. Your future spouse's friends like you, but not on a deeper level.

It's feels so good to be back! I haven't done any readings for a while because I got reallyyyy busy. But anyway, I hope this reading helps! If you like it, feel free to check my paid readings.

[mx-heinous]

De-Aged Bruce Shenanigans

-----------------------------

Dick: Look, you're probably really confused right now, but we need to ask a couple of questions

Bruce, who thinks he's being kidnapped: I'll talk, but ONLY if I have my lawyer with me

*A little while later after, Bruce is attempting to escape with Two-Face*

-----------------------------

*after Bruce stole the Batmobile and snuck out*

Dick: Care to explain why you–

Bruce: First of all, I'm not obligated to tell you anything. Second, this is my car.

Dick: The Batmobile is Batman's car, and right now, you're not Batman. At most, you're a Batboy.

Bruce: Also, I wasn't unsupervised. I had Ace with me. Frankly, I trust his judgement more than yours, so go worry about yourself

Dick: *sighs* And now we know why Alfred is balding. I should get him a gift basket.

-----------------------------

Jason: Little shit, WHERE TF DID YOU GO?!

Alfred: Language, Master Jason.

Tim: How did you even lose him?!

Jason: Let's look in the east wing. Jesus Christ, why is this place so huge.

*after they leave*

Alfred: Are you ready to come outside and socialize now, Master Bruce?

Bruce, who was inside the walls the entire time: No, 10 more minutes.

-----------------------------

Bruce, to Damian: I shouldn't have brought you into this world. Damn me for not wearing a condom

(He meant, "Damn, I have a kid, and I haven't made Gotham a better place for them yet," but of course, this is Bruce, and there's a reason he mostly gives monosyllabic responses)

-----------------------------

Bruce: I'm bored

Tim: What do you wanna do?

Bruce: Let's play my favorite game, "Lobotomy"

-----------------------------

*Batkid opens a cabinet*

Bruce, curled up inside: Do you mind? I'm watching "Gray Ghost"

-----------------------------

Bruce: So... you basically decided to become Robin Hood?

Oliver: I thought the de-aging made you lose your memories? How'd you know?

Bruce: I have eyes, Oliver. Also, you're the only person I know who's ridiculous enough to grow that facial hair and think it actually looks good

-----------------------------

Alfred, waking up in the middle of the night:

Bruce, crawling on the ceiling like some sort of demon and was watching him sleep: I threw up

-----------------------------

Jason, kicking in the door: WHY DID I JUST HEAR THAT THE JOKER WAS SHOT IN THE DICK?!

[reidsgfbf]

under pressure || s. reid

description : in which reader forgets their weighted blanket, but spencer is more than happy to be their substitute

word count : 791 words!

notes : gn! reader, implied neurodivergent! reader, morgan gets bullied

Something you had always struggled with at work was understimulation. You never allowed yourself to stim, mostly for fear of judgement, but also because you feared it wasn’t professional for a seasoned BAU agent to stim in front of your coworkers.

Today was not that much different. After a quick bathroom break to stim happily now that you and the team were on the jet back to Quantico after a gruelling case in Denver, Colorado, you had returned to your spot on the sofa, rummaging through your go-bag to try and find your weighted blanket, only to remember you’d foolishly left it at home in your haste to get to the jet on time for the briefing after Hotch had called you about the case.

A little sigh escaped you. Luckily, most of the team were too preoccupied to hear your dismay; Hotch and Rossi sleeping, JJ and Emily playing snap on the games table, Morgan listening to his MP3 player and Spencer reading. It was him who heard your noise of consternation, and he looked up from his book. Upon seeing your perturbed expression, he closed it and inched out of his seat, approaching you.

“Are… you okay?” he asked, slightly nervously.

“I’m fine.” You told him, but it was clear he didn’t believe you.

Spencer raised a brow. “If you were fine, you wouldn’t have sighed like that. Now answer my question. Are you okay?”

Another sigh escaped you. “I forgot to pack my weighted blanket.” you admitted awkwardly. “I’m feeling really badly understimulated and I need some deep pressure.”

Spencer paused. “Deep pressure?” he repeated, momentarily dumbfounded before a bashful flush painted his cheeks pink. “Uh, would you like me to be your substitute?” he offered timidly.

You paused. Spencer Reid? Offering to be your weighted blanket? The opportunity was way too good to pass up.

“Yes.” you nodded in confirmation, moving to lie down on the sofa, and beckoning Spencer closer. He hesitantly did so, before pausing.

“Are you sure?” he asked, just to confirm. You rolled your eyes good-naturedly, but a small grin tugged at your lips.

“Just crush me, Dr. Reid.” you replied, so he gingerly laid on top of you. “Put more of your weight on me.” you ordered and he hesitated.

“I don’t want to hurt you.” Spencer protested shyly.

“Put your weight on me!” you laughed, and he did so after another moment’s hesitation, sensing that you really did need it. You relaxed under him as you felt his weight on you, a blissful smile on your face.

You murmured your gratitude, and promptly fell asleep under Spencer, who smiled in astonishment at how fast you’d succumbed to the Sandman. Though, admittedly, his eyes were getting heavy too… and your soft and slow breathing was lulling him to sleep… Surely you wouldn’t mind if he took a quick cat nap, would you? With that decided, he fell asleep too, his snoring mingling with yours.

Unbeknownst to the two of you sleeping beauties, the rest of the team had noticed what was going on, and even Hotch and Rossi had woken up. Morgan grinned.

“Oh, babygirl is going to flip if she doesn’t get any evidence of the two lovebirds snuggling.” he laughed, taking out his phone to take a picture, Emily following suit.

JJ rolled her eyes. “Leave them alone.” she scolded the two, with no real heat, as she too took out her phone and snapped a few pictures of you and Spencer slumbering together.

“Let them be.” Hotch, ever the hypocrite, added, as he also snapped a picture that may or may not eventually become his wallpaper for the next month.

It wasn’t until the plane was due to land that someone woke you and Spencer up, shaking your shoulders.

“Come on kids, the jet’s gonna land.” Rossi announced. Spencer blinked blearily as he slowly woke up, before jolting up and straddling you when he realised what position he’d woken up in. You did so too, accidentally smacking your forehead against Spencer’s making the both of you groan and hold a hand against your injured brows.

Morgan snorted. “You two really are made for each other. You’re both as graceful as baby deer on ice.” You and Spencer glared at the bald man, who raised his hands up in surrender.

“Shut it, baldilocks.” you grumbled tiredly and Spencer snickered, causing Morgan to fake a gasp of faux indignance.

“Agent.” Hotch scolded you, though there was a grin on his face.

“Sorry Morgan, for pointing out your shiny bald head.” you apologised half-heartedly, making the rest of the team laugh at Morgan’s affronted splutters. A little smile appeared on your face. Who knew forgetting your weighted blanket would lead to this?

[rafeandonlyrafe]

tracked

words: 1.5k

warnings: stalker!rafe but hes so cute and sweet about it hehe, fluffy, brief drinking, slut shaming (not by rafe), protective!rafe

rafe whips out his phone the second it beeps, the familiar chime that has kelce and topper rolling their eyes.

“dude, come on. if it's some dumb mobile game, we won't judge you.” topper says, wanting to know what draws rafe to his phone every so often, interrupting whatever it is they're doing to check it, staring intensely and hiding it away from their view.

“yeah man, i once spent $40 on candy crush, no judgement.” kelce says, and even rafe looks up to give him an incredulous look.

“it's nothing.” rafe hums, shoving his phone back into his pocket.

“well, it's your stroke then man.” topper gestures down at the golf ball at rafes feet.

“yeah, yeah.” rafe nods, mind still elsewhere.

--

“funny seeing you here, y/n.” rafe says with a grin, his arm swinging around your shoulder and tugging you into his side.

“oh my god, how do we keep ending up at the same places?” you laugh, stepping away from your friends that all look at you with a mix of jealousy and confusion, unsure why you can't see that rafe is so obviously into you.

“well, i was craving something sweet.” rafe places a hand on his chest as he looks at you. “and i guess i found it.”

“so whatcha gonna order?” you ask, aware that the line is moving fast.

“chocolate cone, and you?” rafe already knows he's going to insist on paying for whatever it is you want from the ice cream shop.

“um…” you tap your finger against your lips, rafes eyes staying on your mouth as you reply. “sprinkles flurry.”

“just sprinkles?” rafe raises his eyebrows.

“yup.” you nod, popping the p.

“damn, i really have found something sweet.”

--

“shit, shit, shit!” you squeal, looking at the deflated tire that you certainly can't drive on.

you groan as you pull your phone out of your pocket, not sure if you should call a tow truck at this hour of night or just a friend to pick you up.

before you can decide, your phone rings, your heart fluttering with relief when you see it's rafe.

“hey.” you answer quickly. 

“hey.” you can hear the smile on rafes face. “just had a feeling i should check on you. everything okay?”

“actually my car just got a flat out on old stoney road. is there any way you can come pick me up?”

you can instantly hear rafe shift and the jingle of keys. “im on my way, stay in your car.”

you do as rafe says, staying on the phone with him until he arrives, allowing him to pull you into a hug.

“ill call a tow in the morning, okay?” rafes hand gently moves up and down your back as he leads you towards his truck.

“mkay.” you say thankfully, climbing into the passenger side. you look at rafe as he rounds the truck and gets into the driver's seat. “how do you always know when i need you?”

“i guess you could say sixth sense.” rafe says with a soft smile.

--

rafe watches the blue dot move on his phone, watching it turn down streets and get closer and closer to his house.

rafe closes the app and shoves his phone in his pocket once he's sure.

he quickly tidies up his room, just in case he manages to get you into his bed.

rafe manages to hurry downstairs and open the door before you even knock, your eyebrows raising in surprise.

“hi rafe!” you say quickly.

“what's up darling?” he questions, leaning casually against the doorframe.

“well-” you clear your throat. “you always check on me, and i figured i should do the same for you.” you shrug.

“oh, how sweet.” rafe steps back so you can walk into tanneyhill, shutting the door behind you and making sure to lock it now that he has precious you inside.

rafes eyes are unashamedly on your ass as you walk further into the house. one day he'll make his move, but he's too into the chase.

--

“so how do you know tina?” you ask, taking a sip of your strawberry margarita. you thought you would hate a blind date, but the man sitting across from you actually isn't too bad so far.

“im friends with her brother.” joshua explains, leaning back in his chair and taking an aggressive gulp of his beer.

“ahh, leroy.” you frown slightly at this. you've never been a fan of tinas family, considering her the only true good one out of the bunch.

you try not to let it affect you for the rest of the date, even though the thought is at the back of your mind during every awkward silence.

“well i had a really good time.” you tell him, heading towards your car, purposely only having one drink along with your food so you could drive yourself home from the restaurant.

“i did too, darling.” the word coming from joshuas mouth makes your nose crinkle up, realizing how you only like it when rafe says it to you.

“ill text you.” you take a step away, but joshua follows.

“don't you wanna keep the good time going?”

“oh, um…” you shake your head no. “it's not that i don't like you, but i don't do that on a first date.”

“really?” joshua hums. “i figured you'd be a slut like tina.”

“excuse-” you can't even finish your sentence before you feel his chest pressing into your back. his scent envelops you and you don't even have to turn around to know who has come to your rescue yet again.

“you can go now.” rafe simply says before placing his hands on your shoulders, guiding you towards his truck.

“shit.” you take a deep breath as you climb into his passenger side. “thank god you're always here to save me.”

“mhm.” rafe starts up his truck, it's not even a discussion on whether or not he's taking you home.

“how do you always know?” you question.

“don't worry about it.” rafe says, reaching over to pat your thigh.

--

“rafe.” you hum out, stepping into the shade and leaving your friends behind to tan on the front of the large boat.

“what's up?” he sits up quickly, having been watching you the entire time, loving your new bikini that shows off even more skin.

“i found this weird app on my phone.” you open up the device and hand it to him. “you're good with this stuff so.” you shrug, explaining why you're coming to him.

last time you had an issue with your screen brightness randomly turning up and down, and rafe fixed it for you.

“hm, just leave it.” rafe says, trying to keep his voice casual despite his nerves skyrocketing.

“are you sure?” you question. “it looks a little suspicious…”

“it's not, babe.” rafe throws your phone down, needing to find something to immediately distract you, knowing how your mind could spiral. 

he whips his shirt off so he's in just his swim trunks. “wanna swim?”

--

location services are no longer transmitting. please redownload application. now showing last location.

“shit!” rafe groans. he honestly can't think of a worse notification to wake up to as he rushes out of bed, getting ready as quickly as he possibly can to jump into his truck.

rafe knocks on tinas door. he swears if her brother or joshua opens it he's going to freak out, his heart already pounding thinking about what you could be doing in there.

“rafe?” you question, surprised when he quickly tugs you into a tight hug.

“god, im glad you're alright.” rafe sighs deeply, eyes flickering up to see tina watching the two of you in the doorway.

“what happened?” you question, pulling away to look at rafe, placing your hand on his cheek to bring his eyes back down to you.

“i-” rafe begins to explain himself when tina interrupts.

“i told you that app was sending your location. now we know who was on the other end.”

you take a step back from rafe, your mind slowly putting the pieces together.

“baby, i can explain-” rafe looks like he's ready to drop to his knees and beg, but you instantly know that's not necessary.

“you could have just asked.” you say with a small chuckle as rafe looks at you in confusion.

“you could have just asked.” you say again. “for my location. i would have given it to you without you having to be all sneaky.”

“im so sorry, i never should have done it without your permission.” rafe says as tina quietly slips away, realizing this isn't something she needs to be watching.

“i forgive you for all the times you saved me.” 

“so um… we're good?” rafe asks.

“not quite.” rafe is ready to apologize a million times over when you place your hands on his shoulders and push up to your tiptoes to press a kiss to his lips.

it takes rafe a second to realize what is happening, and then his arms are around you, depending the kiss as he holds you tight to your body.

“now we're good.” you giggle as you pull away. 

sfw taglist: @winterrrnight @bejeweledreverie @ladyinbl00d @ethanthequeefqueen @drewsephrry

[charlieleclerc16]

A game of UNO*

Summary: Charles and Y/N play a game of strip UNO. The rules are of course made up by Charles himself.

Pairing: bestfriend!Charles x reader

Word count: 4K

Warnings: No actual smut, as in P in V. Just a LOT of tension and ofc sexual topics such as stripping, making out, boners etc.

A/N:  I guess I am now writing for Charles too. This story is originally posted on my other blog, so if it's familiar.. That's why lol. Also, funfact, I actually played a game of UNO with myself to get these cards to be accurate haha

Like they say; as we mature, the relationship matures with us. And so does the friendship between Y/N and Charles. The countless weekends going out to pubs are now spent mostly in the comfort of their own homes playing board games and watching movies. Of course, they liked to go out and drink, and God they still drink quite a lot. But they don’t care for loud music and sweaty people all around them.

Nearly every weekend, when there are no races, they come together and spend time like they always do. Downing a few bottles of white, munching on a delicious charcuterie platter, and just enjoying each other’s company. Today was like no other. Charles perched down in the corner of the comfy sofa and Y/N is getting the glasses ready for the delicious liquid.  

“Can we watch The Notebook tonight?” Y/N said as she walked into her living room with two wine glasses and the bottle of white she had been craving all day. Charles simply chuckles and gives her a judgemental look. “What?” She asks him.

“Haven’t we seen that movie like a billion times already?” He laughs. Secretly Charles is a sucker for a good romance movie and Y/N is all too familiar with his preferences. When they were both still in their teen years and just met in school, Y/N had never seen The Notebook before and Charles insisted she needed to see it.

“I mean yes, but you know I love this movie.” Y/N states, remote control in her hand to turn on the movie with a smirk on her face. She lets out a sneaky giggle, getting all comfy against his body stretched out on the sofa. Charles’ strong arm wraps around her body so naturally. His delicious scent immediately relaxing her. 

* * * Halfway through the movie, Charles gets bored. Each of them are two glasses of wine in and Charles is just ready for some action. He lifts his body off of the sofa making Y/N whine at the loss of contact. He makes his way to her board game stash. His feet drag across the floor and his hips sway from left to right, dancing his way to the cabinet. She laughs at him, the dork.

“What are you doing?” She questions, he is so cute dancing around your living room with his glass in his hand. 

“I am done watching that movie, again. I wanna play a game.” He says with a mischievous smirk across his face. The little twinkle in his eyes tells her he really is up to no good. He opens the top drawer of the board game cabinet and pushes around some of the stuff in there. 

“Ah! There it is.” Charles chuckles. He turns around holding the pack of UNO in his right hand. He brings it back over to the coffee table and opens up the little box as he sits down on the floor. 

“You don’t want to watch a movie we’ve seen a billion times yet you do want to play a game we have played a billion times?” She questions Charles, although she has a feeling that there’s a catch. The look on his face tells her he is not about to propose a simple game of UNO.

“See, you got that wrong baby.” The smirk on his face is only growing bigger and bigger. “There's a twist.” The scared look on Y/N’s face is priceless to Charles. She grabs the remote control to press pause, putting all her attention on the man in front of her.

“How about we add some spicy rules to the game?” The room falls silent aside from the heavy breathing escaping her lips. 

“What do you mean, Charles?” She whispers.

“I think you know exactly what I mean.” He says as he starts shuffling the cards. “Okay so, since it’s just the two of us, we shouldn’t’ make too many additions. How about every time you can match a numbered card or wild card with the most recently played card, the other person has to take off one clothing item.” His gaze never leaves her eyes. He starts dealing the cards as if he expects her to just go along with his plan. “Let’s also say for every +2 played, the other person also has to take off one item instead of drawing two cards.” And that’s how the rules are played out.

“I don’t know, Charles.” She says looking down at the cards as she picks them up in her hand one by one. Her first card is a yellow 1. She looks at the second card before she adds it to her hand, a red reverse card. The third card she picks up has her widening her eyes, a yellow +2. She picks up the rest of the cards and she joins Charles on the floor beside the coffee table. She has already decided to play along. 

“What if this ruins our friendship?” She asks.

“Then we’ll stop being friends.” Charles chuckles, lust covering his eyes.

“We can’t stop being friends just because of a game of UNO, dummy.” 

“What if afterwards, you don’t want to be friends because you want to be more than that.” The flirty smirk on his face is weakening her entire body. Fuck. She’s had the longest crush on the man in front of her. Her whole body is yearning to be close to him. Of course, she wants to be way more than that.

“This would have to be the most seductive game of UNO for that to happen.” She tries to shrug off the nerves in her body. Not really doing a great job at just that.

“Shut up and play your first card.”

Charles flips over the top card of the deck. A green 1 lying flat on the table. She takes a look at the cards in her hand. There’s no green so she decides on a yellow 1. She places down the card and a hissing sound coming from Charles’ lips pulls her attention to his eyes. The look on his face looks like pure mischief. His long fingers drag through his cards. He pinches one of them in between his thumb and pointer finger with a big smirk on his lips. God, he looks so kissable. 

She takes a big chug from her glass. Charles slams down his card, showing the yellow 1 matching your card perfectly. 

“I would’ve never guessed I’d be getting you out of your clothes so quickly.” His voice was low and husky. Her wine glass barely touches the table before she brings it back to her lips for another chug making Charles chuckle at her nerves. 

She thinks for a second before she hooks her fingers on the welt of her right sock. Her knees press into her chest and she takes both socks off, one by one. 

“Hold on, this isn’t fair. You’re wearing more clothes than I am.” Charles states as she see his brain calculating. They’re both wearing socks, jeans and a T-shirt. But Charles refers to what’s underneath that. Suddenly she feel thankful for deciding on wearing a bra today, because that’s not a given for every day.

“Well, I guess that’s just my advantage of being forced to strip for you.” She shrugs.

“I did not force you.” He pouts making her giggle. She looks at the table to check back in with the card that’s last been played before diving back into her cards. She can’t help but let the slightest smirk appear on her lips before she plays the yellow +2 in her hands. 

“Fuck.” Charles laughed. “Off with the socks we go.” He continues as he takes both of them off in a swift motion. He adds them to where her socks are piled up together. 

Charles looks in his cards. There is a red +2 in his hand which he could just play right now but he decides to keep that one in his hand for a little longer. Instead, he pulls out a yellow 5.

Y/N sighs, feeling relieved that she doesn’t have to get rid of any more clothes right now. The anxious yet thrilling feeling is riling her up. She have never felt any excitement like this before. Charles and Y/N have been friends since forever and she has had the biggest crush on him for nearly as long. Her eyes always lingered a bit too long when they went to swimming together and he was in just his swimming trunks. Or the goosebumps his touch left on her skin as his fingers danced along her arm as a small sign of affection. Friendly affection, but it still made her feel all sorts of ways.

Both of them play a couple of cards before Charles has a big smirk plastered across his face again. Uh oh. His fingers stride along his cards again before he picks one. He places a red 7 on top of your blue 7. 

“Wouldn’t it be fun if your seven was blue too?” He says as he scooches a bit closer, their legs now touching. 

“Stooop, you make me nervous.” She blushes.

“Don’t be. It’s just me.” Charles reassures her and wraps his empty hand around her ankle. His thumb moves in soft strokes up and down. She knows he tries to calm her down but every stroke of his thumb is sent straight to her clit. 

Y/N plays a red reverse card. Allowing her to play another card since it’s a two-player game of UNO. She’s all out of red so she draws a card, a red 4. She places it down and look back up to Charles who still has his hand on her ankle. 

“Isn’t that fortunate?” Charles teases. 

“Just from you saying that, I know there’s nothing fortunate about it for me.” She mumbles as she frightens the next card that he will put on the table. 

Charles has a twinkle in his eyes looking at the card in his hand. The red +2 is going to get rid of her first clothing item that’ll actually reveal some skin. Charles too had been pining over her for years. He started loving her in a bit more than just a friendly kind of way around the age of 16. Now 10 years later, nothing had changed. Both of them had been dating people, trying to distract themselves from the massive crushes on each other. But at the end of the day, they always came back to each other.

He finally places his card down, an excited look on his face. But she quickly takes her green +2 and smack it down on the table.

“Hah!” She yelps. “That makes two items for you to be gone!” 

“Nah-ah, baby. Haven’t you read the rules before?” He states. “We both have to get rid of one item.” Charles smirks. Mr know it all, why does he know all rules of UNO? Probably because they have played it so many times.

“+2 plus +2 equals drawing four cards. Simple.” She argues but Charles already pulled out the rules from the box. He reads out the bit about how when your opponent plays a +2 card, you have to draw two cards and afterwards may continue your turn. Y/N is kind of sad that Charles isn’t going to get rid of both his jeans AND t-shirt.

Charles takes hold of the hem of his shirt with both his arms crossed before he drags the fabric over his head. In the meantime, she stands up to unbutton her jeans. She gets distracted by the beautiful sight in front of her. His abs are gorgeously on display his toned skin is like a piece of art. Charles had always been hot. But the more he started driving, the more he started working out. And damn did it do wonders for his body. 

“What are you doing?” Charles asks as he throws his shirt on top of both of their socks. He softly chuckles at her eyes staring down at his torso. 

“Ehm, sorry. I was taking off my jeans.” She states, causing Charles to groan. He shakes his head in a disapproving way. “What?” She asks him.

“Should’ve just taken off your shirt like I did.” He mumbles before he picks up his cards from the table. His eyes go from the discard pile on the table to the cards in his hand. There are no more green cards in his hand so he draws a card. Luckily it’s a green one so he places it on the pile. 

“Hmpf, nah. I’ll keep my shirt on for a bit longer.” She mumbles softly. Being shirtless always makes her feel so exposed. Her insecurities would peak without a shirt so she’d rather keep it on for as long as possible. Charles notices how she tries to hide herself. His hand finds its place back on her ankle and slowly travels up to her calf, stroking up and down.

“You have no idea how god damn beautiful you are, do you?” He reassures and she tries to shrug it off.

Both of them have a few cards left in hand but none of them are useful. They draw a few cards, and some of them are played immediately. Y/N look at her cards and forges a plan. With a smirk on her face, she plays a wild card allowing her to change the active colour to blue. But she has instant regret when she sees a smirk on Charles’ face that’s even wider than her own. 

His fingers pick a card from his hand but before he places it down he tugs it back and picks up another one to play. A simple blue 9 lays down on the table. But the twinkle in his eyes never left.

She sighs and take a big sip of wine to empty her glass. She places her cards down on the table and gets up to grab the bottle of wine in the fridge.

“Cute undies.” Charles coos since her shirt doesn’t reach past her bum. 

She comes back with the cold bottle and fills up both of their glasses, emptying the second bottle of the evening. The glasses are a bit full but who cares? She places the bottle down on the coffee table and sits back in her spot.

The plan she made a few minutes ago still works, she plays a blue reverse card allowing her to take another turn since it’s just the two of them playing. Next, she plays a blue skip card to grant her another turn. And last up she plays a plain blue 6. During all three of these cards, the smirk on Charles’ face grew back more comprehensive and she just knows what is coming. 

The blue +2 that hits the table was expected, and is followed by a shout of UNO!

“Fuck.” She mumbles and takes a gulp from her glass. “Fine.” She continues before she grabs the hem of her shirt. She drags it out, trying to hold off for as long as possible. But the anticipation is turning Charles on even more. Of course, he has seen her in a bikini before, but this is different. This feels different.

Her shirt is added to the growing pile in front of the sofa. Charles notices how she feels a bit uncomfortable. Her eyes avoid his and she is unsure where to actually look. His hand reaches out for her and slides from her upper arm all the way down to her hand. He holds onto it for a little while, squeezing ever so softly.

“You really are the prettiest woman I’ve ever seen.” He reassures her by giving her the exact confidence boost she needed. 

After Y/N plays her second to last card, Charles is able to finish the game by playing his very last card. Leaving him in his jeans and boxers and her in just her bra and panties. 

“Let’s go for another round.” She states and already starts collecting all cards to shuffle them. Charles chuckles at her newly gained confidence. He is so ready to play a second round. 

She deals the cards, places the deck back on the table, and flip over the top card of the deck. A yellow 4 is laying on the table. 

“Since I won last round, you may start this one." 

She places down a green 4 on top of the yellow one on the table. A simple but steady start, she thinks. 

“Oh shit.” Charles says and places down the green 4 he already had in his hand, ready to play. “I’m so sorry, baby. You don’t have to…” He adds, suddenly getting nervous at the realization he is finally going to see her topless after years of wondering and imagining what she’d look like underneath.

“The game’s the game.” She states and lets her hand travel to her back to unclasp her bra. Charles gulped, feeling more nervous than he ever had before in his life. His heart was pounding as he looked into her eyes and saw the unmistakable desire there. He had no idea what she is thinking but he is fascinated by her daringness.

He watches as she pushes the straps of her bra off of her shoulders and drops the garment to the ground. She lets out a deep sigh of pleasure as her breasts become the focus of his attention, and the look in his eyes tells her he wants her just as much as she wants him.

She feels incredibly sexy and alluring. For a brief moment, their eyes meet. She feels a strange and wonderful stirring in her stomach. Her cheeks flush, and she quickly looks away. At that moment, she just knows that she is in trouble.

Without saying anything, she swiftly moves on with the game by placing down her green 8. Charles can’t seem to keep his eyes away from her for too long, giving her an enormous confidence boost. 

Both of them place down a few more cards before she places down her Wild Draw 4 card and change the colour to blue. Charles draws his four cards and takes a good look at his cards. He’s having a hard time focusing on the game with the gorgeous sight in front of him. 

He places down two cards in one go, a blue skip causing him to have a second turn, and a blue 5. 

She places down her blue 8 and shout UNO! Charles looks through his cards again to find any card that may cause her to not finish the game. A Wild Draw 4, a +2, anything at all. But all he has is a blue 2.

“Oh my god, Charles. What are the odds.” She chuckles. 

“What do you mean?” 

She places down a blue 2 on top of his. She’s been waiting for this moment ever since he took his shirt off. Her thoughts have been flooded with the idea of him naked in front of her. It’s all she’s been thinking about for the past years. 

“Fuck. You win the game and I have to take off my jeans?” He laughs. Without another word, he gets up, unbuttons his jeans and zips down his fly. His thumbs hook into the waistband of his jeans to pull them down painfully slow. A soft sign, nearly a moan is heard when his bulge is released from his tight pants. Ever since she had to get rid of her shirt Charles’ cock started hardening beneath him. 

She gasps at the view in front of her. She makes it her mission to get him out of his boxers as soon as possible. The lust in her eyes is inevitable, not knowing where to look. His eyes? His hands, where he is pushing down his jeans? Or his bulge, which is honestly where she just wants to keep looking at.

Tension is rising and she can’t wait for him to add the last bit of his clothes to the growing pile. His jeans finally drop to the floor and he lifts his right foot trying to step out. His ankle gets stuck and she reaches out instinctively to hold the jeans down, helping him get out. She allows him to step out before she adds the denim to the pile of clothes. 

Charles sits back down close to her. Both their legs touch again but now there is no fabric in between holding back the skin to skin contact. She looks down at where her legs touch and look back up to him.

“Hi.” He says with a soft smile across his lips. God those lips, they have never looked more kissable. Or is it just her mind playing games? Her thoughts are all over the place. All she wants is to just push him over, straddle him and kiss him. Everywhere. 

“Hey.” She chuckles before a nervous laugh is heard from Charles’ side. Her eyes drop down to his boxers. He chose to wear navy blue Calvin Klein’s this morning and she is so thankful for his choice. The dark fabric accentuates his skin perfectly. An outline visible around his growing member. 

“Eyes up here, baby.” He snorted as if he isn’t having the hardest time keeping his own eyes away from her tits. 

“Sorry.” She whispers before Charles holds out his hand for her to grab. His thumb dances on the back of your hand. Both of them are quiet for a little bit as they soak up each other. 

After what feels forever but actually are only 1,5 minutes, Y/N speaks up.

“Charles? What are we doing?” She questions him, still holding onto him as she looks their connected hands. 

“Hmm, I don’t know actually.” He replies. His free hand reaches with his forefinger for her chin and pushes her face up so she’d have to look in his eyes. “All I know is that I want you. So, fucking, bad.”

Her eyes light up. She can’t believe he really admitted what he just said and without a second thought she gives in to her desire of just a few minutes ago. 

Y/N lets go of Charles’ hand and pushes him onto the floor by his shoulders. Simultaneously she climbs on top of him, causing a muted “oh” to fall from his lips. He is surprised by her actions and honestly, so is she. His hands grab her by her hips as she sits down on his stomach, avoiding contact with his aching cock. 

Their lips finally connect. Ten long years are coming together in this sweet and lustful kiss. Charles’ right hand travels up and down her side as his left nestles into her hair. The two of them sink into the living room floor, both desperate for the connection they have been longing for. 

His opens his mouth and gently sucks Y/N’s lip between his. He lets go after a few seconds and licks softly over her bottom lip. Her heart races as her spine arches under his touch causing him to naturally pull her closer. She opens her mouth to allow her tongue to join his, going back and forth. 

She moans with pleasure and their tongues intertwine even more vigorously, entangling with one another in a desperate search for more pleasure. Each movement they make is somehow more tantalizing than the last. Their hands exploring each other's body with a deep hunger for more.

Y/N wishes this moment would last forever. She is scared of what might happens next, what if this is just a heat of the moment kind of kiss and they really can’t go back to being just friends. Or maybe that is exactly what Charles meant with his ‘Then we’ll just stop being friends’. 

Charles’ hand roams down her back. He moans a bit louder when he finally touches her bum. She feels a firm squeeze on her left cheek, ripping a moan from her throat. Y/N bucks her hips instinctively at the sweet tingles in her core.

Their lips part for a second and she presses her forehead against his. Both of them are a panting mess, feeling completely out of this world. With Charles’ hand still squeezing her bottom he speaks up.

“How about we take this to the bedroom, baby?” He whispers.

[solarmorrigan]

See, just because Steve lets Eddie and the kids play D&D at his house now doesn't mean he's really interested in the game, just the same as even though El and Max sometimes tag along, they're really there to hang out, not play. They each bring their own things to do, and one night El brings a ball of yarn and a shiny little metal hook and a vaguely rectangular yarn-thing that she focuses very hard on while the boys shout in the background.

Steve has no idea what she's doing; he'd say she's knitting, except he's almost certain that involves some kind of sticks, not a hook. But since he's not really doing anything himself, he sits down next to her and asks what she's up to.

"Joyce has been teaching me how to crochet. She says it will help with my hand-eye coordination." El holds up her project with a proud smile. "I am starting with a scarf."

It's not the world's most attractive scarf, but it's not like Steve could do better. He's still not entirely sure what crocheting is, to be perfectly honest. "Is that different from knitting?" he asks.

El nods gravely. "It is," she says, and takes to showing him how she loops the yarn over the hook and pulls it through the stitches in her scarf and adds a few more inches to the row she's working on.

When Steve's attention doesn't completely wane during her demonstration, she pulls a second ball of yarn out of her bag and presents it to Steve.

"Oh, I don't–" Steve tries to demur, but El is determined, and Steve has seen entire dimensions pale in the face of her determination.

This is how he finds himself crocheting a little chain of stitches with just his fingers, the same way Joyce had apparently started El off. El beams at him and returns to her own project, occasionally checking on his progress. The chain is a few feet long by the time everyone needs to be driven home, and Steve decides it actually hadn't been a bad way to pass the time. Kind of relaxing.

The next time everyone is over, El sits down with her scarf, and after a short while, Steve sits down next to her. He compliments how much longer the scarf has gotten (and it does seem like the shape has evened out a bit as she's been going along). She smiles and pulls another ball of yarn out of her bag. This time, she has an extra hook and seems intent on showing Steve what to do with it.

Almost involuntarily, Steve's attention flashes to the group clustered around the table, hesitating to take the yarn from El, and she frowns.

"Joyce says these types of skills are important for everyone to have," El says firmly, and, well– Steve's not really going to argue.

He learns how to crochet a chain with the hook. It feels odd in his hands at first—the shape too small, the metal a little too slick, the yarn not wrapping naturally around his fingers the way it does El's—but he gets the hang of it. When El is pleased with his progress, she shows him the stitch she's been using: a simple single crochet. It's tougher than it looks, and Steve understands immediately why El's scarf is so uneven; neither of them have ever done anything like this before.

Still, he doesn't hate it.

In fact, he really kind of enjoys it.

He enjoys it enough that he asks El to show him more the next time she's over. She's still new herself and is really only working with pretty much the same couple of stitches, but she proudly teaches him what she knows, and Steve picks it up as fast as she's able to lay it down.

Steve goes out and buys his own supplies, no longer content with mooching off of El's. He hadn't realized there were so many different kinds of yarn, and resigns himself to awkwardly asking one of the craft store employees what type might be best for beginners.

The employee—a woman about his mother’s age with a much warmer smile and far less judgement in her eyes—explains with great enthusiasm what all those different types of yarn might be used for, and how the size of the hook affects the outcome of the project, and shows him so many different pattern books his head spins. He realizes that she probably upsells him on a lot of shit, but he leaves with a few different sizes of hooks, some new yarn, and more excitement for a hobby than he's felt probably since high school.

El and Robin are the only ones who know about his new hobby, of course. It's not really that he's ashamed to tell the others, he just knows how teenage boys work and he's not keen on giving a bunch of fifteen-year-olds another reason to bully him. Maybe in a few months. In the meantime, he crochets at home while he's listening to the radio or watching TV, and he crochets at work during down times. Robin finds his newfound hobby morbidly fascinating, but vehemently denies any and all offers to teach her.

("I will find a way to damage myself with that hook and I think we both know that," she says. "It's just kind of wild to see you with a grandma hobby."

Steve threatens to tell El she called it that, and Robin shortly finds a new label for it.)

Fall rolls around and the air acquires a chill sometime in mid-October. Steve's been making practice scarves for a little while now (largely because he really only knows how to make rectangles at this point, but he doesn’t have the attention span for a whole blanket just yet), and he even considers wearing his least heinous attempt despite the fact he's never really wanted for good winter clothes. Then he notices Eddie.

Most of their little group has begun dressing appropriately for the weather, but Eddie doesn't do much more than add a pair of fingerless black gloves and maybe a heavier leather jacket to his ensemble. Steve's not even sure it's because he can't afford it – he's pretty sure it's because Eddie is committed to his aesthetic. Nancy had tried to force an extra scarf on him one day after a little cold snap, when they'd woken to frost on the ground (the scarf is blue, patterned with white snowflakes; it's actually Mike’s, but Mike is also refusing to wear it and Steve suspects Nancy doesn’t want to hold it, but also doesn’t want to get in trouble for letting Mike lose it), but Eddie had declined, insisting it doesn't match his vibe.

Steve can respect this. He himself has a certain aesthetic going on. However, he can also see that Eddie is definitely cold, and that just won't do.

He picks through the scarves and other various wooly things he's accumulated so far, but decides none of them would suit Eddie and, besides that, none of them are really warm enough. If he's going to make Eddie a scarf, it ought to be a good one.

So Steve sucks it up and heads into Melvald's one day when he knows Joyce will be on shift, hoping she won't be too busy for a quick chat.

When he catches her, Steve explains that El had shown him the basics of crocheting but that his ambitions have outgrown his skills and maybe if she isn't too busy sometime, Joyce would be willing to show him a little more?

Joyce, because she’s a saint, says she would be delighted, and invites Steve to come over on their next shared day off.

When he gets there, she tries to ask him who he's making the scarf for, and the best he manages is, "...someone."

Joyce bites down on a smile. "Someone?"

"It's a surprise," Steve finally declares.

"For everyone?"

"Yes."

Joyce bravely manages to not laugh at Steve and instead asks him what kind of scarf he thinks Someone would like.

Steve decides that it needs to be thick, but it should also be soft. It should also be textured, because Ed– because Someone really likes fiddling with things. He can't get too ambitious with colors or patterns, but he decides that black and grey stripes will be perfectly suitable.

(He doesn't kid himself into thinking that by the time their brainstorming session is over, Joyce hasn't figured out exactly who he's talking about, but she's kind enough not to say it out loud.)

Steve's always been good with repetition and patterns—it's probably one of the reasons he’d found crocheting so relaxing in the first place—and he picks up the new stitches with ease under Joyce's deft instruction. She sends him home with the practice piece he'd made with some of her scrap yarn, and after a quick stopover at the craft store on his way home (he briefly gets stuck between shades of grey, but eventually decides on the silvery one over the steely one), he's ready to begin.

He expects making the scarf to be tougher, but once he gets into the rhythm of it, he sails right through. It takes him less than a week (albeit devoting a few solid hours to it every day, possibly more on his days off) to end up with what is, if he may say so himself, a pretty fine scarf.

The challenge comes in actually giving it to Eddie.

Christmas would be an excellent excuse for presenting it to him, except that's a little over a month away, and Steve doesn't want Eddie to go cold until then. Instead, he takes to keeping the scarf in his glove compartment just in case the perfect occasion for giving Eddie a scarf arises.

And much to Steve's surprise, one actually does.

It's right after the first real snow, and Steve has insisted on driving to pick Eddie up so they can hang out (Steve has nightmares about Eddie's driving when road conditions are optimal, never mind when the roads may be icy). He can see Eddie shivering under his jacket, blowing warm air into his cupped hands (Steve wonders if he could learn how to crochet gloves at some point, too. Ones with full fingers), so he ever-so-casually gestures to the glove box and tells Eddie, "Hey, if you're cold, I've got an extra scarf in there."

He's possibly not as casual as he hopes he is (or maybe Eddie just sees through him, like he always seems to), because Eddie gives him a look. "You do, huh?"

"Yep."

Steve concentrates very hard on the road in order to avoid Eddie's eyes. It doesn't stop him from hearing the little laugh Eddie lets out before popping open the glove compartment.

"Oh," Eddie says quietly as he pulls the scarf out, likely having been expecting another castoff piece of outerwear. "This is... actually really nice."

For a moment, Steve can't help but glance over to see the way Eddie is fingering the crocheted ridges of the scarf, running a thumb over the bright silver stripes picked out of the black, and he immediately looks back up at the road.

"Yeah. You should– you can, uh. Keep it. If you want," he says, and wonders what happened to the days when he was smooth.

"No, man, this is, like, for real nice. I couldn't take this," Eddie says, though he's still holding the scarf in his lap.

Steve draws a breath in. "I mean, I was kind of hoping you would, since it's for you."

"Seriously?"

They have unfortunately arrived at Steve's house at this point, and there will be no avoiding the conversation now.

"Yeah," Steve says. "I, uh. Made it for you. So you should take it. Don't let my hard work go to waste, yeah?"

"You're shitting me," Eddie unfolds the scarf and holds it up in delighted scrutiny. "You made this?"

(Distantly, Steve appreciates that the emphasis isn't on "you made this?" Like Eddie doesn't immediately doubt he's capable, only that he's holding a handmade item at all.)

"Yeah. No big deal." Steve shrugs.

"You made this for me." Eddie looks at Steve, and it sounds like that had been meant as a question, though it comes out in flat uncertainty.

"Yeah. Just noticed you were cold, but you won't wear anything that doesn't match your aesthetic," Steve tries to tease, wiggling his fingers at Eddie's outfit, but Eddie doesn't say anything in return.

He doesn't say anything for just long enough that Steve gets insecure all over again, reaching hesitantly for the scarf.

"But, I mean, if that's weird, or whatever, you don't have to-"

"Nope. Fuck off, I'm wearing this forever." Eddie loops the scarf quickly around his neck and squeezes the ends in his hands. "Jesus, this is soft."

Steve grins. "I'm not sure it'll last forever, but I can make you another after than one wears out."

"You'd better," Eddie says, and he's grinning too. "So, what, you knit?"

Steve points a very serious finger into Eddie's face. "Crochet. There's a difference," he says sternly.

Then, because he can't help it, he bops the end of Eddie's nose before getting out of the car, leaving Eddie to scramble out behind him, laughing and calling him a dork as he goes.

(The kids, incidentally, don't tease Steve nearly as much as he'd thought they would when they find out.

This is possibly because they're more mature than he gave them credit for, but more likely it’s because El is standing beside him and daring them to say anything unfavorable about their shared hobby.

Mostly they just let it slide, though Dustin demands to know why Eddie got a scarf and he didn't. Then Lucas wants one, too, because Mike and Max have already received various bits of outerwear from El, and he's not about to be left out. And then Robin, of course, will want to know why Steve hasn’t made her anything, once she finds out that he’s making things for the kids.

Steve resigns himself to a busy winter spent under a pile of yarn.

It's not really a hardship.)

[Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Epilogue | Ao3]

[kirain]

Sigh....Galemancers really love to move the goal post when it comes to the grooming accusations huh? You found out Gale was a fully grown MAN when Mystra slept with him so now you have to say, "Well then he was emotionally groomed and the power dynamic is too vast." Mystra is a neutral good goddess because she's Midnight, who was a neutral good human. She hates that her magic has to be used for good and evil. Ao makes her share it evenly but she'd rather not. She would never do anything to hurt Gale. The writers of the game even confirmed she's not a groomer. People like you also downplay the point of Gale's entire story arc, which is he should've listened to Mystra! The whole point of his personal quest is he needs to learn to humble himself and listen to his goddess! He has no one to blame for his downfall but himself.

There's no "post" to move, anon. The game and lore give us all the context we need. Grooming doesn't only apply to children, and people have proven right and left that Mystra is terrible at relationships. She's petty and abusive when she isn't obeyed by her partners, and that's been the case with all of her iterations. Even the narrator describes her as a "jealous goddess" when you visit her shrine. Plus, your information is wrong on many accounts; the most pertinent being that the Mystra of BG3/5E isn't technically Midnight. Cyric and Shar killed her, reducing her to her godly essence (lore-wise that means she died). The current Mystra is an amalgamation of the vestiges of Mystryl, Mystra, and Midnight, as told in the novel Elminster Enraged.

Now, this is about to get complicated, as it always does with Mystra, so from here on out I'll be referring to Mystra #1 as Mystryl, Mystra #2 as Mystra #2, Mystra #3 as Midnight, and Mystra #4 as 5E Mystra. Alright, let's get started.

Elminster had to reform the fallen goddess by giving her fragments of all three iterations of Mystra. Since all three iterations are combined, our current 5E Mystra embodies the good, the bad, the beautiful, and the ugly. There's even a conversation with The Simbul (one of the Seven Sisters and a Chosen of Mystra) where the newly reformed 5E Mystra speaks of Elminster as her "longest lover". This puzzles The Simbul because that was something of the old Mystra (Mystra #2), not Midnight. The new 5E Mystra replies that she has become a combination of the memories of Mystryl, Mystra #2, and Midnight. This is all in chapter 25-30 of Elminster Enraged. I know it's confusing, but in short: 5E Mystra is not Midnight anymore, and the leading mind is clearly that of Mystra #2, hence her extremely poor judgement—a recurring theme with her character.

Mystryl and Mystra #2 were originally lawful neutral. The alignment changed to neutral good when Midnight took up the mantle, because Midnight herself was a neutral good person. But now it seems 5E Mystra is true neutral, because you are right, anon; Ao won't allow her to do whatever she wants. Midnight tried and was forbidden. 5E Mystra absolutely does not have the same level of humanity or kindness as Midnight, and that may be because Mystryl had no human consciousness and Mystra #2 was a mess.

Regardless of her alignment, she must embody her domain by Ao's decree, which means she needs to spread magic across all Realmspace. Since she has to maintain the balance, she approaches good, neutral, and evil mages with potential opportunities. This isn't a criticism (that's just how godhood works), but rather proof that Mystra is absolutely capable of good and bad. I don't want to hear any more of this "she's a precious little bean and Gale's victim" nonsense. Even if she wants to be, she's not. As Kikitakite said in their post, she's done some fucked up things.

Whether or not the writers intended to make Mystra a groomer, that's exactly what they did. Sometimes writers don't realise they've written an abusive character until they're criticised. Take writer of The Notebook, Nicholas Sparks, for example. He didn't realise he'd written Noah to be an abusive piece of shit until Ryan Gosling pointed it out himself. Gosling has gone on record many times to say he hates Noah, and experts have labeled him an unrealistic and emotionally abusive/manipulative character. The same can be said for Stephenie Meyer, who wrote some of the most celebrated toxic relationships in recent media—with a dash of borderline pedophilia on the side. Therapists have weighed in extensively to tell people that Bella and Edward's relationship isn't healthy and shouldn't be emulated in real life. Indeed, perhaps the best thing to come out of the entire franchise is Robert Pattinson's hatred of Edward and the series as a whole. Jacob's actor, Taylor Lautner, even argued with Meyer's on set because of how weird the "imprinting" segment was and he didn't want to come off as predatory. Meyer argued it was "romantic". 😕

Even if you don't agree Gale was groomed, Mystra is flagrantly responsible for his insecurities and she never should've put her hands on him. The power dynamic is too vast, and even god Gale (conceited as he is) realises it by the end. He only stays in a relationship with Tav if they allow him to ascend them alongside him as his equal. He recognises that anything else would be unhealthy and unacceptable. Also, I researched high and low regarding your claim, but none of the devs have dispelled the idea that Mystra is a groomer. In fact, the most I could find was one dev simply saying, "To Gale it was love, but he didn't know any better." If anything, that only confirms he was confused and didn't know what to do. Their "relationship" was a stunningly horrible idea from the start and that's not on Gale, it's on the literal cosmic being who initiated it.

Moreover, Gale was very likely 17 when Mystra revealed herself to him. This perfectly fits into the 5E Forgotten Realms timeline. If so, no, he absolutely wasn't a grown man. He was a teenager. Mystra may not have slept with him until he was in his 20's, but that still makes it a disgusting teacher-turned-lover situation. Gale even tells us he was "young" when she took him into her fold, and he was only eight years old when Elminster started their lessons. Remember, Elminster is Mystra's biggest apologist. He would've taught Gale to revere her, which means there was almost never a point in his life when Mystra wasn't the main focus. You can tell by the way he speaks about her in Act 1. He's in awe, he's excited, he's proud she chose him. That does something to a child. Something irreversible. If anything, Elminster is complicit in what happened. I've said this before, but he couldn't even be bothered to visit Gale himself. He sent a simulacrum.

As for your accusation that I'm "downplaying" Gale's story arc—you're damn right I am, because the writers made me! Most D&D players I know aren't very happy with how Mystra is portrayed in the game, and that's probably because even they know she isn't presented in a very flattering light. If you really think about it, it's obvious what the writers were going for, but they failed. For example, you said Gale should've listened to Mystra, right? Well, in Act 1 he admits his ambition was his undoing, blames himself for his downfall, and by Act 2 he's literally ready to off himself for her. In fact, he's the only one who sees her ultimatum as justified. Every other companion says she's being cruel and unreasonable. If Gale actually blows himself up at the end of Act 2, the results are catastrophic. The brain is destroyed, yes, but the tadpoles, free of the Absolute's control, complete their transformation and infect/enslave the entire Sword Coast. Anon. She. Is. Stupid. Even the Narrator is like, "You wanna ... you wanna try that again?"

The entirety of Act 2 is Gale learning he shouldn't listen to Mystra. And then she has the audacity to lecture him in Act 3? If he'd listened, it would've been the end of everything. Maybe if Mystra was as infallible as she pretends to be, she would've put her three brains together and came up with a better, less vindictive plan. Because make no mistake, she wanted Gale to blow up in Act 2, which is ridiculous. I know this is an uncomfortable topic for some people, but gods aren't perfect, especially in fiction. They're flawed. They're selfish. Some of them are straight up assholes. The real irony of Gale's arc isn't that he has no one to blame but himself, it's that Mystra should blame herself. At no point does she even consider if she's being unreasonable or unfair. There's no self reflection whatsoever. And the writers expect me to think Gale's full of himself? I wonder where he got it.

Probably from his teacher. ✋🎤