#To be clear there is nothing wrong with it

[rosieofcorona]

Mythal, Solas, and Lavellan (An Analysis)

Please be aware that this post contains spoilers for Dragon Age: The Veilguard, so now is the time to click away until you have finished the game. All opinions shared here are just opinions, and are not intended to be presented as fact. 💕

So, this is sort of an abridged version of what could be (and may someday be) a more in-depth analysis, but I just want to offer a different perspective on the Mythal vs. Lavellan discourse when it comes to Solas’ love and loyalty. I've included a lot of supporting evidence from the game, and wanted to share some of it for your consideration: I want to start in the Lighthouse, for the folks who are upset that we didn't see Lavellan amongst Solas' memories. I think this is for the best, all things considered. The regrets we see in the Lighthouse are all of Mythal– taking a form for her, letting her mold him, doing things he thought were “monstrous” at her request, however well (or ill) intentioned. To me, Solas regrets Mythal nearly as a whole. He loved her, certainly, but I think it’s very apparent that he wants more than anything to close that chapter of his life and move on, which he cannot do without confronting the mistakes of his past. From my view, it’s an excellent sign, actually, that Lavellan is not among the great regrets of his life. He says to Rook that he regrets being selfish with her– but he “cherishes” his closeness with, and his love for Lavellan “more than [his] victories.” The same cannot be said of anything on those walls in the Lighthouse.

That same closeness with Mythal– regardless of whether it was romantic, platonic, familial– hurt him, over and over. Everything he did in service of that love, he regrets. He does not cherish it, at least not in the same way. I think I would’ve been offended, frankly, if Lavellan had been on those walls beside her.

Moreover, he acknowledges Lavellan’s goodness, and doesn’t really do that for Mythal, at least not here. Yes, in Trespasser, he said that Mythal was the best of the Evanuris, but we know it’s a low bar to clear. Does that mean she was evil? Not necessarily. But he also says to Rook that all the Evanuris “were monsters, in their own ways,” and moments later tells them, by contrast, that Lavellan “is a good woman.”

I don’t think it’s his love for Mythal (or even his loyalty to her) that keeps him away from Lavellan, either. He cannot in good conscience give himself what he wants most without first fixing what he broke. He doesn’t want to bring down the Veil anymore, not really. He even acknowledges the Dalish as "our people," to an elven Rook (Lavellan's influence?), and says it was a "privilege" to help them again. He says in the final confrontation that he is compelled to bring down the Veil at this point because otherwise, he has failed and wronged and harmed people for nothing– Lavellan among them. He says, more or less, that he has to see it through, has to bring back “the world [Mythal] wanted,” or else all the suffering he’s imposed has been in vain. That reads to me as a sunk cost fallacy more than an act of great loyalty. 

If we’re talking about what Solas wanted, by comparison, we see it in his codex letter to Lavellan– he says, outright, “I could have…even put my plans aside, and simply stayed with you as Solas…which is what I wanted.” His desires do not match Mythal’s, and in fact are the opposite. But again, how can he allow himself to have his own way when he does not yet feel he has righted his wrongs? 

Here we wade into murkier waters (as this could be a more personal interpretation than what was actually intended), but I think it’s fascinating that in Solas’ memory of manifestation, he tells Mythal, “I will always follow where you go.” I think this may be his original regret. I think he wishes he would’ve followed his heart (both in the moral sense, and later, the vhenan sense), rather than pledging himself to another being that “broke him,” as Mythal herself admits to doing.

And speaking of vhenan, my final note: Mythal is never anything but Mythal, to Solas. Even when she calls him “love" in his memories, he does not reciprocate. He refers to her as nothing besides her name. Lavellan is always given the title of Vhenan. He has not called her Inquisitor since before Trespasser, and even then it was because he was trying to create distance, to avoid hurting her further. But ultimately she is his heart, and he wants to follow her, and Mythal is the only thing stopping him– not because he is holding onto her, but because she is in his way.

[mlyscha]

↳ DRESS TO IMPRESS? ⭑

𝓼ynopsis. in which you convince your boyfriend to play dress to impress with you, will they slay the runway? 𝓹airing. enha!member x female!reader 𝓰enre. fluff, crack, trendy. 𝔀arnings. curse words, not proofread, riki is that annoying player and almost all the members are bad at this game ㅠㅠ, english is not my 1st language. 𝔀𝓬. 1k+ 𝓶asterlist.

♡ 𝓪melie's 𝓷ote: oh gosh i had so much fun writing this, especially because i am addicted to this game lol anyway, do you guys have any headcanon request? i am curious...

― 𝓱eeseung: gets upset but doesn't quit playing.

you might be wondering why heeseung changed his mood like that, and that's because placing on the podium in dress to impress is hard ― for him. in the beginning, and sometimes unfair. when you told him you wanted to play with him ― your boyfriend was feeling very happy and giddy, creating his account the same second, not knowing how he would feel a few rounds later...

"BRO?! HOW DID SHE PLACED?!" he screamed after standing up from bed while his hands rested against his head, indignant. "LOOK AT ME, I LOOK MUCH PRETTIER!" and heeseung turned his ipad screen at you after laying back on his stomach on bed. "hee, baby... your skin is literally blue, that's not what coquette means..." you replied. "nonsense, even my fit is better! and you placed second you can't say shit! i am not playing this game anymore." he argued, throwing his ipad away from him. "don't quit, continue playing with me," you pouted, waiting for a new round to start. "i'm sorry, baby, but this game is absolutely dog shi- a new round has begun?" when the sound of a new round starting echoed, his mind seemed to have changed. "... yeah?" "okay, maybe one more round won't hurt..."

― 𝓳ongseong: gets into arguments with 8 year olds.

jongseong is a good, caring, handsome and mature boyfriend, however, immatureness possesses him when playing dress to impress. just to clear things up you had asked him to play the game with you before, so nothing was new to him ― neither to you: hearing him raging about a girl talking shit about his fashion sense. i can't forget to mention that he takes this game very serious ― especially when his girlfriend has an awesome ranking.

"look at me, i look so good," "yeah... you do..." you couldn't ignore how terribly your boyfriend's makeup was done. "give me five stars, okay?" "'kay..." "baby, if this girl tells me i look terrible one more time i'll do something really bad." "babe-" " 'you look ugly'...?" he read the chat. open his microphone: "SHUT UP, YOUR FIT LOOKS LIKE A TRASH BAG AND A PIECE OF SHIT JUST HAD A BABY," "JAY! she's a kid!" "and i am eating with this outfit- tha-that's how you guys say right? eat and all...?" "yes, you ate that outfit up babe."

― 𝓳aeyun: you have to be patient.

don't get me wrong, jaeyun is good at games, however, not in this one specifically. it took him about two days just to learn how to walk on roblox's games and how to jump, etc. imagine when you introduced this fashion game which you have time to dress yourself up, oh boy, he was confused. if learning the basics from controlling your avatar on roblox took him days, it took jaeyun a week to understand how to put on items, take them off, where you choose your hair and face... well, it was a pain, but he was able to get through it and play it almost normally.

"babe, why you're skin is grey?" "i didn't know where to change it," shrugs then tries to pose. "oh my god, babe, i showed you where a minute ago!" "okay, chill...! where do i pose though?" "oh my god, jaeyun..."

― 𝓼unghoon: has lots of difficulties but doesn't give up.

sunghoon is like a mix of heeseung and jake, which means he gets addicted, angry but can't stop playing and still has to be handled with patience and love. with that being said, be prepared to hear a bunch of questions and him leaving and then joining your server a few many times. also! can't forget that sunghoon is still a english learner, so the themes might be misunderstood by him sometimes heh... (ᵕ—ᴗ—)

"y/n~" he whines. "i'm done with this game!" leaves "babe, the theme was baggy and you literally dresses up as a trash bag..." "baggy means... bag? what did i do wrong?" "baggy is a style, not a trash bag," "should've told me earlier, y/n!" "hoonie-" "now everyone on the server thinks i am stupid! let's change server, join me now."

― 𝓼unoo: is the one who places first.

sunoo is undeniably the best dressed on the game among the members, usually winning against you. he has almost all the poses, knows how to layer and is always creative, even reaching top model before you.

"baby, can we play dress to impress together? i'm so close to reach top model." "yeah, su- WAIT! TOP MODEL?!" ― ooohhh, i might have forgotten to mention... sunoo plays dress to impress without you sometimes. "baby, just join me 'kay?" "sunshine, explain me how'd you reach top model before me? i play more than you do," "uh... i surely play more than you do, but okay," "wait, wha-" "babyyyy just join my server, i want you to celebrate this with me, alright?" "okay..." your heart softened when you realised he wanted you to be part of his reaching. "can we duo?" you asked. "we can, but just once; i would much rather vote you five (5) stars."

― 𝓳ungwon: jungwon.exe stopped working.

jungwon is like jake and oh gosh why i feel like every single one of them is a bit like him?!?! anyway, jungwon would be more than happy to join you, but has already told you that his skills might not really show up in this dressing game ― discreetly admitting that he doesn't know how to play it. he actually heard about the game because the other members seem to enjoy it. still, it's just not his cup of tea. however, since you were so excited about him playing with you, sigh, he might make this sacrifice ― in which he slowly gets very excited as well.

"wonnie, baby, why are you posing? you have to dress up before the times is up!" you warned him after spotting him on the game. "huh? it doesn't make sense, we have to dress up? where?" "there, baby," you gently took the ipad out of his hands and guided him to the changing booth. "oh... but is too far away from my spawn and why do i walk slower than that girl?" "because she bought a walk faster pack, now dress up wonnie, hurry up...!" "i want to buy that, how do i buy her pack?" "jungwon, dress up now, you have literally one minute." you spoke between your teeth. "okay, okay... y/n, where do i get the items though?" "jungwon..."

― 𝓻iki: it's that annoying giggly kid who doesn't follow the theme.

if you ever played dress to impress you probably came across to one of those annoying players who never follows the theme, with that, you might refuse to believe riki is this type of player; but trust me, he surely is. and why? because he doesn't take the game that seriously, doing whatever he wants and trolling people ― making them believe he's gonna gift them vip or one of the other packs.

"RIKI? HOW'D YOU PLACED FIRST?" "i'm just too good, i guess," your boyfriend shrugged, but you couldn't believe him. "you're lying." "are you saying i am not good at this game?" "..." "y/n," he would call you after suddenly bursting out of laughter. "what?" your annoyed tone of voice echoed and it sounded like his favourite music to his ears. "wanna know how i placed first?" riki looks up at you, hiding just half of his face with his ipad. "mhm..." you hummed, confirming. "i tricked a few girls saying that i would gift them vip if they voted me five (5) stars," he giggled, knowing you were about to get angry at him. "RIKI! you can't do that, imagine if that was me..." you pouted. "oh, yeah? i should've done worse then." "RIKI!" "OKAY! SORRY, enough of riki now, okay? i am baby, not riki..."

© 𝓪𝐦𝐞𝐥𝐢𝓮, 𝗺𝗹𝘆𝘀𝗰𝗵𝗮 𝗌𝓽𝓾𝖽𝗂𝗈𝓼. ⋆

[my-castles-crumbling]

prank - Jegulus Microfic - @into-the-jeggyverse - word count: 497

It's dark. The room James has been shoved into is small, and he can sense another person in the cramped space. Silently, he curses Sirius and everyone he loves, because for an extremely smart person, this prank is decidedly uncreative and inconvenient. But this is what James gets for letting Sirius take the fall for their prank last week so he could still go to Quidditch practice.

"Who's there?" he sighs, resigned to the fact that he's stuck there for a bit.

"Potter?"

"Regulus?"

There's a scoff. "Of course he'd lock me in here with you."

And James is a bit put off by that, because what's wrong with him in particular? "What's wrong with me?" he asks, frowning.

"You annoy me," Regulus retorts simply.

Rolling his eyes, James snorts. It makes him uncomfortable, to know how much Regulus dislikes him. It's been even more obvious than usual lately, and he hates it. "Probably why he put us both in here. Did you piss him off?"

There's silence, but it speaks volumes.

"Well. He's mad at me, too. Figures," James sighs.

They stand awkwardly for a moment before a thought pops into James's mind, so ridiculous that he laughs out loud.

"What, Potter?" Regulus asks, voice dripping with annoyance.

"Nothing! Nothing, it's just....wouldn't he be pissed if he came here to let us out and found the whole thing had backfired," James chuckles, knowing he's probably just making Regulus more angry, but picturing his friend's face.

Regulus makes a noise of confusion. "Backfired?"

"You know...like he finds us...dunno, snogging, or something!" James says it because it's a silly idea. Because it would never happen. Because he doesn't think before he speaks.

But as he does, the air suddenly thickens and Regulus doesn't laugh.

And then, time completely standing still, a cool hand touches his shoulder. "What if he did?" Regulus asks, his voice full of an emotion James cannot place.

"Well," James clears his throat, his brain suddenly foggy. "He'd...he'd be really...confused, I guess. He'd..."

"Hmmm....we'd turn the tables on him," Regulus murmurs, and James can feel breath fanning over his cheek.

But honestly, Sirius is now the furthest thing from James's mind. He's decidedly distracted. "Yeah..." he mumbles. "it'd be..."

Lips claim his, and his world completely tilts on it's axis. He's completely consumed by the way Regulus kisses him- with passion fiery enough to light the dark room they're trapped in. He chokes out between kisses, "-t-thought you hated me."

"I do. I think. Maybe," Regulus hisses into his mouth.

He stops thinking. Presses the other boy against the wall and loses all track of time. Hands and lips roam and his mind melts to the feeling of Regulus, the sounds of the younger boy groaning in his mouth.

Until the door opens, causing light to spill into the room.

"WHAT THE BLOODY FUCK?" Sirius cries, seeing the two of them intertwined.

But James doesn't even care. "Hey, Pads," he says, giving a shit-eating grin.

[midnightrodeo1968]

There's lots of criticism and analysis of that the Dems "did wrong." It's all beside the point: it's very clear the voters wanted this.

So the above list is correct: if you voted for tRUmp or 3rd party, it's on you. If you didn't vote, it's on you. I think we're about to enter a time of nightmare, repression, and violence against anyone who is not a white man. I pray I am wrong! I pray that they're as incompetent as they were last time! I pray that we don't have another pandemic, because next time the death toll will be worse.

But all of it is on you - the unnecessary suffering, the higher maternal deaths, the higher infant mortality, the violence, the coming inflation (you ain't seen nothing yet), the food shortages (the dairy industry will collapse without immigrant labor), the higher taxes for everyone but the rich, the crisis in heath care and especially long-term care for *your parents and grandparents*....

And finally, and worst of all: just four years of this nonsense may tip the planet over into crisis. That's in all of us, but losing the last chance to fix it is on you.

<Sigh>. There's more, lots more. But it is all predictable. Don't say you weren't warned - you just weren't paying attention. Fer crying out loud, even the generals spoke out, at the end!

Again - I pray I am wrong and being an alarmist! I'll feel foolish, but relieved. I don't wish any of this on anyone, but I think it's coming. And whatever comes - that's on you.

To the men who voted for Donald Trump today:

When your girlfriend gets pregnant, and you’re not ready to become a father, and you’re forced into a position that cripples you emotionally, financially and irreversibly, remember: you did this.

When your sister’s pregnancy turns out to be ectopic, and she can’t get the life-saving medical care she needs and dies a completely pointless, preventable death, remember: you did this.

When your 12-year-old daughter is raped by her soccer coach — after he’s legally allowed to strip off her pants and peep at her genitals, because the existence of trans kids terrifies you — and she steals your shotgun and kills herself in your garage, remember, first and foremost: you did this.

Hundreds of thousands of people are going to die because of the decision you made today.

You did that.

[pickingupmymercedes]

Kiss me - Lewis Hamilton (NSFW)

Part of 1K Jukebox Event

song: Kiss me - Cassie

pairing: Lewis Hamilton x Reader!

genre: smut (it's a cute one though)

wordcount: +4k (got carried away, ops)

As always, I'm open for feedback, come say hi!

EXPLICIT CONTENT UNDER THE CUT, -18 DO NOT INTERACT

______________________________________________________________

“Looking all sweet, but let’s be real, he’s the type to f** Y/n so hard she’s left feeling her cervix as a souvenir of their night.”

His fans had always been in fine form, but after those pics were released from his event? Oh, they were in rare form.

One tweet caught my eye, and I had to bite my lip to keep from cackling out loud. There he was, looking like an angel on earth, his smile all soft and innocent—yet the caption was nothing short of outrageous.

I nearly snorted, and, of course, it got his attention.

“Something funny?” Lewis asked, his gaze shifting over, already curious.

He looked so blissfully unaware of the chaotic energy his fans had just injected into my life. “What’re you reading?”

“Oh, nothing. Just, you know, your fans thirsting” I said, holding my phone up so he could see. His eyebrows lifted slightly as he read, and when he got to the cervix part, that smirk I knew all too well spread across his face.

Great. Here it comes.

“They’re not exactly wrong” he said with that smooth, I’m-definitely-trouble smile. “Didn’t you just say a few days ago that your gyno might get worried one day?”

My eyes practically rolled back. “I cannot believe you’re bringing that up.”

He shrugged, unbothered, stretching his arm across the back of the couch, his fingers grazing my shoulder. “Why? Because it’s true?”

I tried to brush it off, laughing, but I realized his fingers were already on my jaw, gently tilting my face up to his. I gave him a mock-innocent look, like I wasn’t just laughing at his, exceptionally creative fans.

“I’m just saying, they’re funny. Doesn’t mean I actually think it’s accurate.”

“Uh-huh.” He leaned in close, his eyes locked on mine, dark and serious. “You sure about that?”

God, his gaze was enough to make my stomach flip. But I wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction of that.

“Well…” I trailed off, clearing my throat as casually as I could manage.

Big mistake. Because in a flash, I saw that competitive spark in his eyes, the one that always meant I was about to lose any game I tried to start with him.

“Oh, is that a challenge?” he asked, voice dropping into that deep, rumbling tone that never failed to get my pulse racing.

“Only if you’re up for it” I shot back, praying he couldn’t tell I was already half a goner from just that look.

He chuckled, low and smooth, and that was all the warning I got before his mouth was on mine, shutting me up mid-sentence. His lips moving with just the right amount of heat that my snarky attitude was gone.

I forgot the stupid tweet, the fans, the whole internet, because now there was only the feeling of his hands on my neck, his chest pressed against mine.

When he finally pulled back, I could barely breathe, and he had the nerve to smirk at me. “Still think they’re exaggerating?” he murmured, his fingers tracing along my jaw.

I wanted to come up with some snappy reply, some sarcastic retort, but I could barely think straight with him this close. All I managed was a slightly shaky, “Maybe a little.”

“Guess I’ll have to remind you thoroughly, then.” He grinned, and before I knew it, he had scooped me up from the couch like I weighed nothing, carrying me down the hall to our bedroom.

One kiss after another, he was laying down a trail of heat I couldn’t even pretend to resist, my hands already tugging at his shirt, which somehow found its way to the floor.

Okay, fine I thought, somewhere in the haze of it all. Maybe the fans do have a point.

I barely had a second to catch my breath before he was on me again. And I mean on me.

I was melting into the bed, feeling the weight of him, the warmth, like every nerve in my body was suddenly awake and waiting. He brushed my hair away from my face, his eyes tracing over me like he was memorizing every detail.

How on earth did I get this lucky?

And, of course, Lewis wasn’t exactly making it easy for any train of thought to be coherent.

He lifted the hem of my shirt slowly, so slowly that I almost wanted to roll my eyes.

Tease. But the moment his lips touched my stomach, any trace of sass in me just evaporated. His kisses were gentle, lazy almost, like he had all the time in the world to just savor me.

“Oh, you’re enjoying yourself,” I managed, the words barely a breath as his mouth moved lower, leaving goosebumps.

He grinned against my skin, and I felt his lips curl into that playful smile that always made my heart flip. “I think you’re enjoying this just as much.”

He was right, of course, but I’d be damned if I admitted it right away. I was still catching up to how he was going to prove the tweet right, but first he was teasing the hell out of me.

He moved up again, his face inches from mine, and my breath hitched when he took his time kissing me like he was reading the most interesting book in the world, page by page.

Each kiss felt like he was imprinting something into my skin, and honestly, it was a little maddening. Here he was, practically worshiping every inch of me with a patience that I could barely handle.

“I thought you liked it rough” I murmured, trying to sound unaffected, which was absolutely pointless given the way my heart was pounding.

“Oh, I do,” he whispered back, his eyes holding mine. “But I love it when I get to take my time with you.”

He was impossibly close now, and his voice went straight to my bones.

I should have had some witty reply ready, some sarcastic little retort that I’d normally throw out just to keep things light. But he wasn’t giving me an inch to think, his fingers tracing a line down my sides, his lips skimming my collarbone, and I was losing more and more the fight to keep myself together.

My head tipped back when his hands made their way to my hips, his grip just firm enough to keep me in place, and his lips found their way to my chest.

You’re taking forever on purpose, aren’t you, Hamilton?

Each kiss, each touch, felt like he was making some kind of unspoken point. He wanted me to know, to feel just how deep this went for him. And God, he knew exactly what he was doing.

By the time his mouth reached my nipple, the last ounce of my composure was long gone. My back arched on instinct, and I was biting back a moan that would have only encouraged him more.

His fingers moved over my curves like he was memorizing the way I fit under his hands, and then he pulled back for a moment, his gaze flicking up to mine, dark and unreadable. “You really think I’m just like switch, don’t you?” he asked, his voice a low rumble that made my breath catch.

All I could manage was a nod that didn’t make sense. My heart was in my throat, and every inch of me was burning under his touch.

He smirked, as if that was all the answer he needed, and then he dipped back down, his mouth reclaiming my skin. “I’ll show you both sides” he murmured, pressing a soft kiss over my heart. “Rough when I want, and sweet when I have the chance. Or both when you let me.”

And I could barely manage to get out a word between breaths. “You’re... infuriating.”

He chuckled against my skin, his breath hot and maddening. “And yet, you’re not telling me to stop.”

His lips found my other nipple, and he took his time, making sure that my head was spinning by the time he came back up, his hand tracing along my waist, each touch making my skin feel like it was on fire.

The world outside this room could have disappeared, and I wouldn’t have noticed. Right now, there was only him— taking his time, making sure I knew I was the only person who’d got to see him like this.

I was far too wrapped up in him, every look and every touch setting me on fire.

And then he slid his hand down my stomach, his palm pressing firmly against my covered pussy, the heat of it sinking through me.

His fingers toyed at the edge of my lace panties, his touch so light it was driving me insane.

“Lew, come on,” I half-groaned, half-laughed, trying to keep some control over the situation—or at least pretending to. His smirk told me he knew exactly how close I was to giving up that control entirely.

“Oh, I’m coming on,” he murmured, his fingers slipping down to cup me through the lace. The heat of his touch was enough to make me arch against him, and I hated that he knew exactly what kind of power he had over me.

That smug grin of his? Absolutely infuriating. And totally deserved.

He gave a soft laugh when my body responded, and I could practically feel his smirk against my neck. “That easy, huh?”

“Shut up and keep going” I said, trying to keep some shred of dignity.

He knew what he was doing, his fingers tracing torturously slow circles, not enough to relieve the ache but more than enough to drive me out of my mind.

“Patience, love,” he whispered, lifting his head to give me that classic, cocky look. “I promised you both.”

If I’d had the ability to roll my eyes, I would have. But instead, I reached up, grabbing his face, desperate for the feel of his lips against mine.

He grinned, then kissed me deeply, one hand still pressed firmly against me, his fingers finally slipping under the edge of the lace, grazing over my skin.

Then his fingers brushed my folds, just barely, and I bit down on his lower lip, unable to stop myself.

He let out a low growl in response, which only made me grin, even as my heart pounded like crazy.

“Impatient, are we?” he teased, pulling back just enough to look at me, his eyes flashing with that mischief that was already wrecking me.

I let out a breathless chuckle. “Cut the tease…”

He shook his head, amused, his fingers slipping under the lace fully now, and I felt myself buck against him.

Each slow, teasing stroke on my clit was enough to make me nearly forget my own name.

I was so losing this game.

“Soaked already,” he murmured, his voice a delicious mix of satisfaction and amusement.

I would have made a comeback, I swear, but his fingers were tracing over me in a way that was completely short-circuiting my brain. Every time I thought I’d gotten a grip, he found a new spot, a new way to make me squirm.

“Oh, is that a smile?” he asked, catching my expression and leaning down to press a kiss to my cheek. “Thought you wanted me to hurry up?”

I rolled my eyes absentmindedly, even though I could barely muster the energy. “Hurry up, slow down, whatever. Just don’t stop.”

He laughed softly, and before I could say another word, he moved down, positioning himself between my legs, his mouth hovering so close I could feel his breath. His fingers traced up and down, building a maddening, delicious tension, and every nerve in me was screaming for him to finally close that distance.

“Lew, please” I managed, breathless and desperate.

He gave me one last teasing grin, holding my gaze as he started, his lips and hands working together to arch me off the bed. And with every nerve in my body alight, I realized there was no witty comeback that could save me now.

I was utterly, completely lost in him.

Dizzy with need, every nerve in my body tuned to him, but Lewis? He was taking his sweet time, equal parts infuriating and intoxicating.

He was enjoying every single second, holding me on this edge that had me biting back moans, trying to keep at least a shred of dignity.

Like that was even possible with him right now.

His hand slid down, curling around the edge of my panties to tug them aside. But of course, he just looked at me, a devilish smirk in place.

“So impatient tonight,” he murmured, brushing his fingers lightly over me, like he hadn’t just spent the last however-many minutes driving me insane. “Isn’t this what you asked for?”

If I had any ounce of wit left in me, it was dissolving fast. “I didn’t think you’d take ‘slow’ this slow” I shot back, my voice breathlessness and sass all mixed into one, making his grin grow wider.

“Maybe I just like seeing you worked up” he said, his thumb pressing firmly against my clit.

The jolt it sent through me was enough to make my legs tense, but he just chuckled, watching the effect he had on me like he was studying art. “I need to live up to the hype, don’t I?”

His teasing was making it so hard to keep any semblance of control.

I reached for him, wrapping my hand around the base of him, only to have him still my wrist, that devilish grin back. “Oh no, love. Tonight, you’re just going to feel me. That’s your only job.”

Somehow, his words alone were making my pulse race. “Alright, Mr. Control Freak.” I managed, half-laughing, half-breathless.

He raised an eyebrow. “Oh, we’re back to the name-calling?”

Before I could respond, he lined his cock, pressing just enough to make me gasp, his hands gripping my thighs as he held me firmly in place.

He was still smiling as he began, his thrusts slow and measured, like he had all the time in the world and zero plans to speed things up.

I was doing everything I could not to lose it completely, but he was making it hard.

Impossible actually.

Every single, agonizingly slow stroke was designed to drive me out of my mind. And he knew it.

He looked down at me, his gaze intense, but there was that barely-there flicker in his eyes. And I saw it. The effort it was taking him to keep his control.

He was fightingit, I could tell, like he was determined to make a point.

“You good?” he asked, voice soft but full of that teasing edge, his thrusts hitting a spot that made my vision blur.

“Yeah” I managed, my voice little more than a breathless mess. “Totally good.”

Not desperate at all. Nope. Not even a little.

But he was still watching me with that knowing grin, his fingers tightening on my thighs as he slowly picked up the pace, his breaths becoming heavier, more labored.

“You’re squirming,” he pointed out, his voice strained with his own restraint. “Think I’ll be able to keep this pace with you moving like that?”

Even in the middle of the haze, I couldn’t help but give him a smirk. “Keep up, then.”

Bold statement—especially given that he was currently holding every ounce of control over me.

And before I could even blink, he lifted my legs, shifting them up onto his shoulders, and suddenly every single thrust hit exactly where it needed to. A slow, perfect shockwave that had me gasping and clinging to the sheets.

“Like that?” His voice was a low growl, his control slipping as his movements gained just a bit more force, each one slow and all-consuming.

I could barely form a coherent thought, let alone answer as his gaze was fixed on mine. Like he was waiting, daring me to say something else, but every word dissolved before it could even reach my lips.

And just when I thought I couldn’t take any more, he finally let go of that tight, controlled pace, his movements still slow but just a little rougher, his hands gripping my waist as he watched every reaction he pulled from me.

“That’s it, love,” he murmured, his voice labored. “Let me see you.”

Every nerve in me was on fire and somewhere in the haze, I was sure I could feel my heart racing out of my chest. He leaned down, his mouth capturing mine, and with every kiss it was like he was branding himself into me.

I couldn’t stop the sounds leaving my lips, my breath coming in sharp gasps, and he finally let out a groan, his control slipping just enough that I could feel him speeding up, his breath hot against my skin.

“Lew—” I breathed, my voice breaking, unable to stop myself from moving in time with him, my body fully surrendered to the way he was moving against me.

His name was the only coherent word left in my vocabulary, and when he finally lowered my legs, letting them rest on either side of him, he pressed his forehead to mine, his breath warm and steady.

“You feel that?” he whispered, his voice full of intensity, his hand coming up to cup my face as he slowed down just in time to let me ride the waves of my release.

And gosh did I rode that orgasm.

I felt every inch of him, the way he was holding himself steady, giving me that same tender, relentless energy.

As my breath started to steady, he brushed his thumb across my cheek, waiting for me to open my eyes.

And when I did, he was watching me with that same teddy bear smile, soft and proud, like he knew exactly what he’d just done, and like he wouldn’t have had it any other way.

I couldn’t help but let out a soft laugh, the warmth of his gaze wrapping around me. “You good?” he asked, and even though his words were casual, there was something in his eyes that told me he wanted to hear it.

“I think we’ve definitely moved past good.” I echoed, giving him a half-smirk, half-laugh.

I could still feel the remnants of my orgasm pulsing through me, my body soft and spent, but there was something about the way Lewis was still hovering over me, breath shallow, eyes still full of heat, that had me pulling him closer.

The intensity of his earlier movements had me completely lost in him, and now that he was slowing down, I felt that familiar pull to take care of him, to return some of the devotion he'd given me.

His forehead rested against mine, his breath warm against my skin as his movements grew slower and more deliberate.

He hadn’t come yet, and I knew it was because he was doing everything in his power to give me space to come down, to keep from being too rough and just savoring this moment.

His body pressed against mine, his hips moving in slow, circular strokes, dragging against me in a way that had me shivering beneath him.

“I’m good Lew, really” I whispered, trying to catch my breath, and he hummed softly in acknowledgment, his lips brushing across mine before he pulled back just enough to look me in the eyes.

“Yeah?” he asked, voice husky with desire but with that hit of concern, as though he was double-checking, even though I could feel how much he was struggling to keep it slow.

“I’m more than good” I said, my voice a little shaky, but my nails running up his back, pulling him even closer to me. “You don’t have to worry about me.”

I could feel him smile, a small, satisfied curve of his lips. His hands cupped my face as he kissed me gently, deepening the kiss as he started to move again, each thrust slow, almost measured, like he was trying to memorize every part of me.

I could feel every inch of him inside me again, the drag of his pelvis against me driving me wilder even being gentler than before.

It was almost like he was whispering his love in every thrust, and I felt every part of me melt under him, my own hands roaming down to find his back, his sides, holding onto him.

Because I could never let go.

I was so fucked up in the love I had for this man. So fucked up in the way he could turn me inside out, leaving me breathless one moment, and then so tender and gentle the next.

He wasn’t rough now. He wasn’t hurried.

“You’re close” I whispered against his lips, my voice low but teasing, loving the way he was fighting not to lose it. His grip on my sides tightened as he groaned softly, his eyes closing as he concentrated on the slow roll of his hips.

“I’m trying to hold on” he murmured back, his voice strained. “Trying not to rush it… but, damn, baby…”

I smiled softly, my hands gently cupping his face as I kissed him again, slow and tender, wanting to give him everything he needed in this moment.

My own body was still buzzing with the aftermath of my orgasm, and I loved how it felt to be so connected to him. He was still taking his time, even though I could hear his breath faltering with every pass of his hips.

“Let go, Lew” I whispered softly, pulling him down to me, pressing my lips against his ear. “I’m right here”

That seemed to do it. I felt the tension in his body snap as he gave in, and the way his movements became almost desperate but still held that deep, slow rhythm.

His moans were louder now, growing more guttural, and I felt him lose himself in me, in the way he was finally letting go, filling me with a warmth that had me gasping for air.

I could hear his breath hitching as he tried to push himself just a little bit further, the way his body trembled with the effort of holding it together. But it didn’t matter anymore.

I pulled him closer, my hands clutching his shoulders as I whispered more sweet nothings, my lips brushing his skin in a way that had him falling.

When he came, it was slow, labored and deep. His whole body shuddering as he let out a low groan, and I was right there with him, kissing him through it, holding him close as he filled me.

His face was next to mine, his breath hot on my skin, and I couldn’t help but smile at the sound of his ragged moans. There was nothing more intimate than hearing him like this, his pleasure all tangled with mine.

As his body finally slowed, he pulled back slightly, his chest rising and falling rapidly, his features filled with that boyish happiness.

He gave me a soft smile, still trying to catch his breath. “You good?” he asked, the same question he always asked, but this time it was a little lighter, a little less intense.

I couldn’t help but laugh softly, my fingers tracing the lines of his jaw. “Are you?”

He grinned, his eyes still a little unfocused. “Yeah… just, give me a minute”

I ran my hand gently along his chest, still reeling from the sensation of him inside me, but not losing the opportunity to tease him lightly. “Gotta give it to you, for an old guy, you really work it well”

Lewis raised an eyebrow, looking down at me, clearly amused. “Oh, is that how we’re doing this now?”

I grinned up at him, my body still buzzing from the aftermath. “I’m just giving credit where credit’s due. You might be getting up there in age, but you’ve still got it.”

He chuckled, finally pulling away, both of us wincing at the feeling of emptiness.

He grabbed some tissues from the nightstand and as he cleaned my thighs up, I couldn’t help but notice the change in how he looked at me, from that goofy, tender smile to a wicked grin.

He hesitated for a moment before stating “Definitely left a souvenir”

I looked down, feeling the sensitive heat between my legs, and shot him a cheeky smile. “You got a little too carried away with your ‘old guy’ moves.”

He raised an eyebrow, giving me a knowing look. “If you’re still that sassy I’m sure I can find other ways to shut you up.”

I laughed, the sound full of affection and humor. “That tweet’s gonna stick with me, isn’t it?”

But despite the banter, I couldn’t help but feel that warmth again in the pit of my stomach, that quiet love I had for him—the way he could be so tender, so gentle, but also rough when I needed it.

As he kept on cleaning me up, I raised an eyebrow, the corners of my lips twitching into a mischievous grin. "Oh, and just so you know," I started, letting my voice drop into a teasing tone, "I liked the tweet. Just to make sure people know I agree."

His eyes widened in mock disbelief. “You did not,” he said, his voice dripping with amusement as he leaned back to look at me more intently, trying to gauge if I was joking.

I couldn’t help but smile even wider, the truth hanging between us like an unspoken dare.

He stared at me for a moment, processing the full impact of what I’d just confessed. And then, with a wicked grin, he leaned down and kissed me hard, his lips claiming mine in a way that told me I’d just earned another round in return.

Well, looks like liking that tweet would be the least of my worries.

When he finally pulled away, both of us breathless, I smirked up at him, savoring the moment.

“You know,” I said with a little chuckle, “You might just get me to start a fan club for you.”

He raised an eyebrow, his grin spreading. "Oh yeah? What’s it gonna be called? 'I love Lewis Hamilton'?"

I shook my head with a dramatic sigh. "Nah, that’s already taken, probably. Maybe something like, ‘I’d let Lewis Hamilton leave me raw any day,’” I shrugged nonchalantly, as if it were the most normal thing to say.

His eyes flickered with amusement and his lips curled into a knowing smirk. Without another word, he pulled me toward him, kissing me deeply again, his arms wrapping around me like a vice.

I guess if he’s gonna keep me like this, I might just have to start the fan club for real.

But then again, who’s the real fan here?

______________________________________________________________

TAGLIST - @saturnssunflower @xoscar03 @chocolatediplomatdreamerzonk @itsmrshamilton @vicurious28

@0710khj @thecubanator2 @neilakk @bigratbitchsworld @adriswrld

@fearfam69691 @cmleitora @goldenroutledge @timmychalametsstuff @jpgnsf

@priopp123 @strqirlhrts @hmmmmm-01 @bisexual-babygirl-mj @bebesobrielo

@hiireadstuff @f1-football-fiend

If you’d like to be added to my taglist you can leave a comment or send me a dm/ask.

[lovegalor333]

˖ ᡣ𐭩 ⊹ ࣪ ౨ৎ˚₊✧˚ · .

you’re gonna be ok (paige x reader)

summary: you’re going through a tough time and have pushed paige away but she finally realises something is wrong

content warnings: talks of depression and ed behaviours/language

requested by: @melpthatsme ����

Your girlfriend was getting suspicious and rightly so. You had just given her another lame excuse as to why you couldn’t have dinner with her tonight. That was the third time this week.

At first it was ‘too much homework’, then a ‘headache’ and now it was your ‘period’. All lies.

As you lay curled up in your bed, all lights turned off, you sobbed silent tears until your pillow was saturated. You felt guilty lying to Paige but you couldn’t go out, especially not to eat.

You wasn’t entirely sure why Paige even wanted to be seen in public with you anyway, why she was with you at all actually. Paige was beautiful. Like the most beautifully perfect woman there ever was. Her eyes shone bright at all times and whether her hair was pulled into a tight ponytail or left natural and loose, framing her face, it looked immaculate. She was intelligent and athletic, maintaining an almost perfect GPA while simultaneously leading her team in back to back wins. Paige was everything and you, you were nothing.

You hated everything about yourself and you were usually good at hiding it. Painting on a fake smile and laughing when others laughed, mirroring your friends actions to make it seem like everything was just fine but it was getting harder to hide. You were drinking and smoking just to get respite from your thoughts. You were dragging yourself to gatherings just to count down the minutes until you could leave and be alone in your room where you could finally let your guard down.

You were proud at how long you had gone keeping this to yourself but it was almost impossible now. You didn’t want to talk. You didn’t want to leave the apartment. You didn’t want to eat. You didn’t want to see anyone. In fact, you didn’t want to see yourself. You had even gone as far to cover every mirror in your room just to avoid the reflection that made you sick to your stomach.

You felt like you had cried a river this past week but the tears wouldn’t stop, you thought there would be nothing left to give but you were a never ending pit of sadness.

You hear shuffling and muffled voices coming from your living room, your roommates must be home. You thanked yourself for keeping your lights off and closed your eyes so if they came into your room, they’d think you were sleeping.

A few seconds past before you heard a light knock at your door. You ignored it. Pressing yourself further into your mattress, wishing it would swallow you whole. Then came the click of the handle being turned and the door squeaking open.

You kept your body as still as possible, holding your breath in hopes that whoever was disturbing you would think twice but that doesn’t happen. Instead your bedroom light is flicked on and your door is closed with force, practically slammed.

“Why did you lie to me?” You recognise Paiges voice immediately and it’s a mixture of pissed off but also upset and you know it’s your fault.

“What?” You say, even though you heard her loud and clear.

“I know you’re not on your period. Our cycles are synced. They have been for months. Why did you lie?” Paige asks again and you feel so stupid for making such a rookie error.

Paige was right. Your cycles were synced, it happened often with women and girls that spent a lot of time together, so when you were on your period, she was too. She had caught you out in your lie.

“I don’t know.” You mummble into your duvet, still curled up tightly.

“You’ve blown me off three times this week. You barely answer my calls and texts, it’s like I have to force you to see me and now you’re lying to me and you can’t even be bothered to tell me why?” Paige rants and even though you still haven’t looked at her you can tell she’s pacing your room.

“I don’t understand what’s going on. I thought we were good but maybe not.” She says and you physically feel your heart brake at her words but you can’t bring yourself to say anything other than, “Maybe.”

“What?” She asks confused even though she was the one who said it first, “Y/N, can you at least fucking look at me?” She snapped and you know thats the least you owe her so you slowly roll yourself around so you’re no longer facing the wall and push yourself up into a sitting position but you can’t bring yourself to lift your eyes from your lap.

“I wanted to take you for dinner, spend some time with you. Just be with you and I thought you would have wanted the same but instead you’re in bed!” Paige continued and you just took her onslaught of words, you didn’t have the energy to argue or even defend yourself.

“I’m sorry.” You muttered, picking at the already raw skin around your nails.

“Will you just look at me? Do you want to break-” You finally look at Paige and she stops mid-sentence, “Have you been crying?”

You ignore her question because your heart is racing and more tears are threatening to fall at what she was about to ask, “Finish what you were about to say.” You whisper but she doesn’t need to, you knew what she was going to say. She was going to ask if you wanted to break up.

“What’s the matter? What happened? Why were you crying?” Paige asks all at once, any annoyance in her tone has been replaced with concern and her facial expression shifted from dark and frowning to soft and doe eyed.

“I wasn’t.” You lie, “Finish what you were about to say.”

“Yes you were. Your eyes are red and puffy, your skin is blotchy,” She walks towards you, “and your pillows wet. Why were you crying?”

“You want to break up.” You answer your own question.

“No. No, I don’t. But I don’t understand what’s going on with you, I thought maybe you did.” She says honestly sitting on the edge of your bed.

“I don’t.”

“Why were you crying baby? Tell me what’s on your mind.” She says placing a hand on your leg.

“I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“It’s too much Paige. My mind is too much, it’s too dark. You don’t deserve that.” You begin to cry again and it quickly turns into sobs.

“Hey, baby, come here.” She whispered, pulling you into her chest and onto her lap, she wrapped her arms around your body and held you close, “You’re scaring me.” She admits, “Tell me what’s going on my love. I want to help you.”

“You deserve more than this Paige.” You choke out in between sobs, you’re hyperventilating now, your body shaking in your girlfriends arms but she continues to hold you tight and close.

“But I want you. I love you.” She pulls away from you slightly so she can look you in your eyes and she holds your face tenderly, a hand on each cheek, “You’re all I want, my beautiful girl.”

“Don’t say that.” You weep, jumping out of her lap.

“Don’t say what?”

“Don’t say I’m beautiful. Don’t say any of it. It’s not true.” You cross your arms over yourself wishing you could shrink down into the smallest dimensions and eventually disappear.

“Baby, what are you saying? What’s going on?” She reaches out for you but you pull away not wanting to be touched.

Paige properly looks around your room for the first time and you watch as she notices everything and you see the cogs turning in her head as her eyes fall to your mirror, covered by a sweater. She sees the paper taped to your wall with your weight written on it followed by the harshest of words that you thought about yourself. She sees the empty alcohol bottles on your dresser and the half smoked blunt on your bedside table. And when she finally looks at you, in your oversized clothes, arms wrapped tightly around yourself, her eyes were glossy and her forehead creased as she fought back tears of her own.

“I don’t know what’s going on in your head, but I do know that I do love you and you are beautiful and I’ll tell you that everyday until you believe it.” She says as a tear slips down her cheek.

Paige walks over to you, taking you by your hands first and kissing both of them. She pulls on the sleeves of your sweater and you reluctantly let her pull it over your head so your just standing there in your bra. You close your eyes not wanting to see her reaction to your body, the thought of it made you sick. You felt her lips press to your stomach and she peppered kisses up your torso, “My beautiful baby.” She mumbled against your skin as she continued to kiss over your chest and onto your neck.

She took you to your bed, laying you down and she hooked her fingers into the waistband of your joggers, pulling them off, exposing your legs. You wanted to grab the sheet and cover yourself up but her mouth met your thigh and she pecked it gently, moving over the the other, “So perfect.” She breathed, the tips of her fingers trailing down your legs.

You lay on your bed, eyes closed, tears streaming out and you feel Paige hover above you, “Look at me baby.” She says softly, wiping the tears that soaked your cheeks. You flutter your eyes open and look up at Paige who’s looking down at you, eyes filled with nothing but love and care. “Please don’t shut me out. I’m here for you. Anything you need me to do, I’ll do it. I just want you to be OK. I need you to be OK. You’re everything to me.” She says, blue eyes locked on yours.

“Can you just hold me tonight?” You sniffle. “Of course.”

Paige lays on your bed, pulling you into her arms, she presses her lips to your head before her fingers find your hair and she runs through it gently, “You’re gonna be OK.” She whispers comfortingly. “You promise?”

“I promise.”

˖ ᡣ𐭩 ⊹ ࣪ ౨ৎ˚₊✧˚ · .

a/n: i wrote this so tired so forgive any mistakes 😭 already want to write a part 2 🥺🥺

[guppybibi]

Simon is a stealthy man, obviously—it's required for his job. Though the fact isn't quite true when it comes to proposals. You could clearly tell what he had in store for you the moment he coincidentally didn't have any work to do when the weather was just right and when he suggested that it was the perfect time of year to propose relax and go on vacation to anywhere you'd like.

Of course, you play along obliviously and decide to go to a tropical place that you've been eyeing for a while now. Simon wasn't complaining about your choice either, a chance to watch the sunset together and see you in a cute swimsuit? Sign him up!

So he books you two a tropical getaway, and insists that you should use his card to go shopping for a nice little dress, yeah? What's your ring size too, love? For future reference..nothing else.

~

The trip so far has been nothing but perfect, the plane surprisingly had enough leg space so Simon was comfortable the whole time. No turbulence either, it was like God was on Simon's side this time.

When you two arrive at your destination, the fresh breeze gladly greets you and the sun's heat is making beads of sweat form on your forehead already. It seemed like the heat had the same effect on Simon as well, although he was sweating more profusely than you for some reason..He'd never tell but he was insanely nervous right now, it felt like his guts were being turned inside out over and over again.

Everything does go smoothly, you two arrive at the hotel he reserved, quickly changing into your swimsuits since you couldn't wait to go out there and take a stroll around the beach. Maybe collect some seashells as a souvenir, build sandcastles or get a tan, do whatever you want, princess. Simon's going to be right beside you the whole time, glaring sharp daggers at anyone who even dares to look at you in the wrong way. Was it too much and completely unnecessary? Maybe, but you could never be too safe in these times. Creeps were always everywhere, casually walking around in broad daylight, hidden in plain sight.

Every single thing you wanted to do or get, was done and bought. You had to say, you were pretty surprised when Simon wasn't making any sarcastic comments about how he wasn't a money dispenser. Not even batting an eye when you got something from a clear tourist scam, weird. But hey, you're really in no place to complain here. Plus, money comes back, but the memories you and Simon will make here won't.

~

Hand in hand, step by step, you and Simon walk by the shore, your eyes full of adoration as you tried tracing the glow of the sun's light on Simon's face. You couldn't tell what was more breathtaking, the landscape or the man in front of you? The sun was bound to set soon, though it never really rests, you couldn't even imagine being the sun, working nonstop with no breaks is a big no no.

Quite ironic since in Simon's eyes, you were technically his sun. You were the center of his world, everything was peaceful when he was around you. Unlike when he's in the military, it always feels like he's out of orbit.

He has to do it, his heart can't contain it anymore. He has to propose, he's going to propose. Right here, right now. It was the perfect moment, the sunset peering, maybe a few folks watching but Simon couldn't give a damn about them. This was about you.

"Love," he calls out, stuffing his hand into his pocket to get the ring box. You snap back to reality, tilting your head in acknowledgement. You were taken aback by the sight of him kneeling on one knee, holding out a box with a shiny ring inside that you were barely able to hear the words, "Will you marry me?".

Without hesitation, you scream out "Yes!" at the top of your lungs, leaving Simon chuckling, still not getting up. "Wait up, luv. I prepared a message for you, mind if I tell you it first?" You were still jumping around the place, looking like you were about to bounce off to outer space. Once you manage to collect your excitement, you nodded, preparing yourself to hear Simon's message to you.

It was all about how you were the light of his life, all of that. It was short and sweet, not unnecessarily long but truly from the heart.

It's safe to say that the both of you went home from that trip with a big grin on your faces.

[geschiedenisish]

Just to add my worthless opinion to the better version of Twitter,

As a lot of people have already argued. We must focus on a kind of freedom. Gender freedom, race freedom, sexual freedom.

Being a fellow white male, at first, I was a bit hesitant about the concept of "safe spaces". Why do you need a safe space? Well, you don't. Because most places nowadays, or, well, Discord servers and urban bars, are 'safe spaces' which just means they don't allow bigotry. That's not a safe space, that's the norm. Like "smoke free areas", NO, that's just most areas!

I hate the term safe space, because it gives the wrong idea, at least to priviledged people. I understand it started as a literal safe space, but safe spaces should be the rule by now, not the exception. That's what I mean. We need to focus on a better future, not a bad past.

I wanna make very, very, very clear priviledged people have no idea how priviledged they are, and pointing out their priviledge will usually only draw them further to right. I'm as woke as they come, and I even took multiple years to fully become aware of my priviledge. So don't even think about convincing the christians or incels they;re "gonna met you halfway". That ain't happening!

This is very hard to hear for the left crowd, but it's the truth. If you wanna get rights, you gotta present them as not a threat to priviledged people. You get Columbus, we get IPD, you get your hate Discord servers, but we don't allow bigotry here.

Most people will switch to the second thing, but people won't resist as long as you allow the first thing to still happen. This is hard to hear, because the left has this dualistic worldview where allow Straight Pride is signing a deal with the Devil. But cancel culture ain't really working either mate!

If you stop looking at everyone as a bigot, stop presuming priviledged people will change their minds if you tell them about your struggles. Start looking at what IS actually causing change in the world, small scale positive examples such as more green in urban areas or safe spaces that just become popular cause they're wholesome. THEN you'll actually accomplish something.

Because unless you have weapons like, cough cough, the alt-right. You can moan on Twitter, but nothing is gonna happen!

I couldn't have said it better myself.

[moonselune]

Based off events happening to me today:

Tav feeling super anxious for no reason and spiralling and they don't know why and their partner trying to help?

Please

Aw bless, i know this was sent a while ago but I hope things are okay xox

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Karlach:

The night was still, the kind of deep silence that should have felt soothing, wrapped in Karlach’s warmth and the safety of her arms. But tonight, the silence pressed on you, heavy and smothering, like a dark tide rising in your chest. Karlach had already drifted off beside you, one arm draped protectively across you as if even in sleep she wanted to keep you close, shield you.

You tried to breathe through it, tried to focus on the feeling of her arm, the softness of her skin against yours. But each inhale grew tighter, your chest clenching, until it felt like your lungs were refusing to open. Heart pounding, you clenched the sheets in your fists, trembling, as the world around you blurred and closed in, warping until you couldn’t tell up from down, awake from dreaming.

The sound of your labored breaths must have pulled Karlach from her sleep, because her eyes fluttered open, hazy with sleep until they landed on you and filled with immediate concern.

“Hey…hey, babe, what’s going on?” she asked, her voice low and soothing, though you could hear the edge of worry she tried to mask. Her hand, warm and steady, came up to your cheek, thumb brushing along your skin. “You’re shaking, love—talk to me. What’s wrong?”

You tried to speak, to respond with something reassuring, anything that would tell her you were fine, but the words wouldn’t come. The walls felt like they were closing in, your vision tunneling, and you couldn’t look away from Karlach, from her face. She was here, with you, yet you felt like you were slipping away.

Karlach’s brows knitted together, her own chest tightening with helplessness. She’d faced countless enemies, survived the hellscape of Avernus, and yet here—watching you crumble in front of her—she didn’t know what to do. Her hand moved to clasp yours, fingers intertwining tightly as though she could anchor you back to reality.

“Listen to me,” she said, her voice firmer now, taking on the same tone she’d use in battle, one she knew you trusted. “Breathe with me, okay? Just…try to match my breath. In and out. You’ve got this.”

You tried, focusing on her, on the gentle rhythm of her breathing, but it felt like you were trapped in a storm, and the calm Karlach offered was just out of reach. She watched you, distress clear in her expression as she realized her words weren’t getting through, and the soft crackle of her engine, the familiar hum, only made the quiet around you seem louder.

“Dammit,” she whispered, voice wavering. “I’m here, alright? Whatever’s got you like this, I’m right here.” She pulled you closer, wrapping her arms tightly around you, burying her face into your hair as if she could absorb some of the weight pressing down on you. “You’re safe. I swear it. Nothing’s going to hurt you. Not if I’m here.”

Her presence, so solid and unyielding, cut through the fear just enough to let you take a shuddering breath, her warmth seeping into you like sunlight breaking through storm clouds. Her fingers traced comforting circles against your back, and she murmured soft, nonsensical reassurances, the kind of quiet comforts she’d never shared with anyone before you.

“You don’t have to talk,” she whispered, though the waver in her voice told you she desperately wished she knew what was happening in your mind. “Just…squeeze my hand, okay? Let me know you’re still here with me.”

With a shaky breath, you did, your fingers trembling but firm enough as you held onto her. Her eyes softened, filling with relief as she gave your hand a gentle squeeze in return.

“You’re not alone in this,” she continued, her voice barely above a murmur. “Whatever’s in your head… I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere.”

Her words, grounding and soothing, began to penetrate through the fog of your mind, the relentless weight lifting bit by bit. Karlach pressed her forehead against yours, her breath warm against your face as she matched her breathing to yours, syncing your uneven gasps with her steady inhales. Each breath felt a little easier, her warmth and steady presence like an anchor pulling you back from the depths.

Minutes passed, and gradually, the panic ebbed, the tightness in your chest loosening as you took in her scent, the comfort of her closeness. She stayed with you, patient and unwavering, until you felt the storm inside finally begin to calm.

When you looked up at her, her eyes were full of worry, tinged with guilt as though she could’ve done more.

“Are you…feeling any better?” she asked, brushing a hand through your hair, voice gentle. You nodded, squeezing her hand as you gave her a shaky smile, trying to reassure her.

“Thank you, Karlach,” you whispered, your voice still unsteady. “I…don’t know what I’d do without you.”

She smiled, though there was a vulnerability in her gaze, the depth of her worry for you still lingering. “You don’t have to know,” she said softly, pulling you close again. “Because I’m always going to be here.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Minthara:

The anxiety came on suddenly, like a wave crashing over you, quick and relentless, stealing the air from your lungs. Your thoughts spun out of control, a tangled mess of doubts, worries, and fears, each one feeding off the last, building into something you couldn’t escape. You felt trapped inside your own head, barely aware of your surroundings, your breaths coming in shallow, uneven gasps. Your hands shook as you gripped the edge of the table, fighting to anchor yourself to something solid.

Minthara had been beside you moments before, going over plans for the night’s camp watch, her calm, steely focus grounding in its own way. But as she turned back to you, her face changed. The sharpness in her gaze softened ever so slightly, concern bleeding through the cracks of her usual impassive mask.

“What is wrong?” Her voice was low, steady—meant to command, to cut through confusion. But the tone only made your pulse race faster, your mind recoiling from the idea of appearing weak before her.

“Nothing,” you managed to choke out, but it was obvious you were lying, and she wasn’t one to suffer dishonesty lightly.

“Don’t lie to me,” she bit out, but you could tell her voice was more uncertain than sharp. She reached out a hand, her fingers hesitant, as if she wasn’t quite sure what to do with the display of vulnerability before her. Minthara was a force, a warrior who understood battlefields, strategy, survival. But this—the swirling, choking darkness you felt—wasn’t something she could simply attack head-on, and that realization seemed to unsettle her.

She watched as you struggled to control your breathing, her lips pressed into a thin line.

“Speak to me,” she said again, more insistently this time, almost as if ordering you to snap out of it.

You could barely hear her over the racing thoughts in your head, each more overwhelming than the last. Anxiety had taken root deep inside you, and no amount of her demanding tone or even her solid presence could shake it loose.

“I—I can’t,” you managed, voice barely more than a whisper.

Minthara’s frustration grew, her eyes narrowing as she crossed her arms. She shifted her weight from one foot to the other, her gaze flickering around the room as though looking for something tangible she could fight, something she could fix. But there was nothing there, nothing to direct her fury at.

“This… fear,” she said finally, the word tasting foreign and strange in her mouth. “I don’t understand it. It has no shape, no sense. You’re strong; why can’t you just… dismiss it?” Her tone was more questioning than chastising, but you still flinched, the ache of not being understood cutting deeper.

“I don’t know,” you muttered, closing your eyes, trying to block out her piercing gaze. The words you wanted to say fell short, each attempt at an explanation slipping through your fingers. “It’s not that simple, Minthara. I can’t just will it away.”

For a moment, she stood there, silent, wrestling with her own irritation and helplessness. Her fists clenched at her sides, jaw tense. Then, with a frustrated sigh, she closed the distance between you, placing her hands on your shoulders in a grip that was firm, grounding.

“Look at me,” she ordered, and you forced yourself to meet her gaze, even as your mind continued to spin. “You are here. Right here, with me.” Her voice softened, but just barely, a rough edge of vulnerability breaking through. “There is no battle now, no foe to fight—only this moment.”

The warmth of her hands, the solidity of her presence, pulled you back, anchoring you even as you felt yourself slipping away. Her eyes held yours with a determination that cut through some of the fog, her grip on you a reminder that you weren’t alone.

“Focus on my voice, on my touch,” she murmured, her brow furrowing in concentration as she struggled to find the right words. “Breathe with me.”

You tried, inhaling deeply to match the steady rise and fall of her own breathing. The rhythm was grounding, a tether pulling you back toward something real, something outside of the chaos in your head.

“Minthara… I’m sorry,” you whispered, guilt flooding in as the worst of the panic ebbed, leaving exhaustion in its place. “I didn’t mean to… drag you into this.”

She huffed, shaking her head as her grip tightened ever so slightly.

“I don’t need your apologies,” she replied, her tone gruff but with a warmth hidden beneath. “Just… tell me how to help you next time. If there is a way.”

You nodded, her words a balm against the ache in your chest. “This… was enough.”

She scoffed lightly, but her lips softened into the barest hint of a smile. “Good.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Lae'zel:

The world around you feels tight, claustrophobic, like it's closing in with each passing moment. Every sound is sharp, too loud, and every breath feels short, strained, as though you're inhaling smoke. You try to ground yourself, to focus on something—anything—but the rush of thoughts is relentless, tangling together, louder, and louder, until—

"Vlakith's eyes, what is wrong with you?"

Lae'zel's voice breaks through the noise, her tone sharp with annoyance, and though it's a familiar sound, it only heightens the chaos in your mind. You glance up at her, barely able to meet her gaze, your hands gripping the edges of your cloak tightly, knuckles white. Your vision swims, and there's something vulnerable, exposed, in your look that catches her off-guard. She crosses her arms, brow furrowing deeply.

"What has brought you to this pathetic state?" she demands, though her tone carries a slight edge of uncertainty. Lae'zel isn't used to this, to seeing you so unsteady. Her impatience seems almost protective, like she's annoyed that she can't simply strike down whatever is plaguing you.

You open your mouth to respond, but no words come. Your throat feels constricted, tight, and suddenly, your chest aches, like you're being crushed from the inside. Your heart races, and it’s hard to keep your breathing steady. Each attempt to explain feels pointless, small words incapable of conveying the tangle inside you.

"Lae'zel, I—" you start, but your voice cracks, and you feel a pang of embarrassment. You look away, frustration mingling with the turmoil inside, and that only makes everything worse.

Lae'zel huffs, her usual directness faltering. You see the familiar tension in her jaw, the slight narrowing of her eyes as she looks at you with something close to confusion, maybe even worry.

"Are you injured? Poisoned?" she asks, her gaze flickering over you as though searching for some sign of physical harm. "Speak, or have you lost your tongue as well?"

Your breaths come quicker, shallower, and Lae'zel's frustration intensifies. She reaches out, her hand hovering over your shoulder, fingers twitching with restrained force. She’s trying to understand, trying to solve this the way she would a problem on the battlefield, yet it's clear she has no idea what to do.

"Lae'zel," you manage, voice barely a whisper. "I—I can't—" The words crumble into silence, and you turn away, feeling an overwhelming need to escape, to be anywhere but here.

But she doesn’t let you. Instead, she steps in front of you, her figure imposing, her expression a mix of irritation and something else, something softer that she would never acknowledge out loud.

"Cease this nonsense," she orders, her tone still sharp. "You are stronger than this. Why are you allowing yourself to be reduced to a trembling wretch?"

You can see her impatience clashing with her own helplessness, the unease in her gaze as she watches you struggle. She wants to fix it, to fight it, but anxiety isn’t an enemy she can face with her blade.

"Lae'zel, I don’t… I don’t know what to do," you finally admit, feeling the words rush out in a painful confession. "Everything feels like—like it’s too much. I can't… I can’t stop it."

Her expression softens, if only slightly, as she processes your words. Her hand hesitantly comes to rest on your shoulder, her grip firm, grounding. She sighs, exasperated, but there’s a trace of something else, a rare tenderness lurking beneath her frustration.

"This… weakness of yours," she mutters, her gaze piercing but not unkind, "it will not conquer you. You are stronger than this."

You swallow, looking down, but her hand tightens on your shoulder, commanding your attention.

"I do not know how to battle something that lives only in your mind," she admits, voice low, almost reluctant. "But I will not let it claim you."

The honesty in her words, the sincerity that she rarely shares, cuts through the haze. She doesn’t know what to say, doesn’t know how to help, but she’s here, and she’s not backing away.

"Look at me," she says, her voice softer, less an order and more a plea. "You are not alone, do you hear me? You are… mine." She pauses, the weight of that admission hanging in the air, her hand moving to clasp the back of your neck, fingers steadying.

You nod, taking a shaky breath, feeling some of the tension ease under her touch. Her hand remains firm, anchoring you, and though her expression remains stern, there’s a glimmer of understanding in her eyes.

"If this… feeling attempts to overtake you again," she says, struggling with the words, "know that I am here. And I will not let you fall."

Her words, her strength, they begin to ground you, to steady the spiraling thoughts. It’s not perfect, and she’s still as impatient and brash as ever, but in her own way, she’s offering you solace.

"Thank you," you manage, voice trembling but genuine. Lae'zel huffs, her hand leaving your shoulder with an awkward pat.

"Yes, well, see that you regain your senses soon," she mutters, though her eyes linger on yours, holding a warmth that belies her gruffness.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Shadowheart:

The evening had started peacefully, with you and Shadowheart sharing a quiet moment by the fire, watching embers flicker against the backdrop of the starlit sky. Shadows from the flames danced across her face, lending her beauty a mysterious, ethereal quality. She was curled against you, her head on your shoulder, fingers intertwined with yours, her touch warm and steady. But somewhere in the calm, a ripple of unease began to grow, small and sharp, turning slowly into a twisting, thorny mass of thoughts in your chest.

At first, you tried to ignore it, keeping your breath steady, your hand still wrapped around hers. But the familiar pressure started to mount, your heart drumming an erratic rhythm in your chest, thoughts racing faster than you could tether them. Each breath seemed to get shorter, constricted, your mind and body spiraling in sync.

Shadowheart noticed the change, her fingers stilling in yours as she looked up at you.

“Are you all right?” she asked, her voice soft, but laced with growing concern.

You tried to nod, tried to answer her, but words lodged themselves in your throat, and a stifling silence stretched out instead. The familiar symptoms crept over you—sweat beading on your forehead, heart hammering, mind racing in a flurry of worst-case scenarios and creeping fears you couldn’t explain. You closed your eyes, trying to drown out the overwhelming rush of it all.

“Hey… look at me.” Shadowheart’s voice was a steady anchor, but even that felt distant, unreachable. She tightened her hold on your hand, shifting to face you fully, her expression growing more worried by the second. “You’re not all right, are you?”

There was a helplessness in her gaze, a deep, worried line creasing her forehead. Shadowheart was no stranger to combat, to wounds and battle scars—but this was different. She couldn’t simply fight off whatever was holding you hostage.

“Tell me what’s wrong,” she whispered, squeezing your hand, her other hand reaching to cup your cheek. “Please, tell me how to help you.”

The words barely registered. Your mind was racing too fast, filled with an overwhelming wave of dread and nameless anxieties that seemed to suffocate you from within. Your breath grew shallower, panic clawing at the edges of your awareness. You felt untethered, as though you were floating far from your own body, lost in a sea of dread.

“I… I don’t…” you stammered, struggling to find something, anything to ground yourself.

Shadowheart’s eyes widened, and her hand on your cheek grew firmer, more determined.

“I’m right here,” she murmured, her voice laced with a fierce, protective tone. “Look at me. Just focus on me. Forget everything else.”

But focus seemed impossible, your thoughts spiraling faster and faster, like being caught in a current you couldn’t swim against. You clutched at her hand like a lifeline, but even that felt like it was slipping away, your mind lost in a haze of fear and helplessness.

Shadowheart’s breath hitched, her distress evident.

“I don’t know how to help, but I’m not leaving you,” she whispered, her voice laced with a tremor of frustration—at herself, at this intangible enemy pulling you away from her. “Please, just… keep holding onto me. Try to breathe with me, okay?”

She brought her forehead to rest against yours, closing her eyes, and began to breathe in slow, measured counts, her breaths steady, an anchor in the chaos. She kept her hand on your cheek, her fingers tracing gentle circles against your skin, grounding you in the feeling of her warmth, the solid reality of her presence.

For a long time, you remained caught in the grip of panic, but Shadowheart didn’t waver. She continued to hold you, her voice a constant murmur of reassurance.

“I’m here. I’m not going anywhere. You’re safe,” she repeated softly, her thumb brushing gently across your cheek. And slowly, so slowly, you began to feel the weight lifting, your breaths aligning with hers, each inhale and exhale pulling you a little closer to the present.

When your breathing finally slowed, the panic ebbing to a dull throb, you opened your eyes, meeting her gaze. Her face was etched with relief and lingering worry, her own breaths still steady but shallow, as if she had been holding them alongside you.

“There you are,” she whispered, a faint smile touching her lips. Her fingers lingered on your cheek, her thumb brushing softly across your skin. “I didn’t know how to help, but… I’m glad you stayed with me.”

You managed a nod, exhausted but grateful, letting her presence soothe you as the last remnants of fear melted away. She leaned forward, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to your forehead, and the weight of her love and care filled the hollow spaces where panic had once dwelled.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Jaheira:

The night was still, the crackling of the campfire softened by a light breeze, but it was doing nothing to calm the spiraling chaos in your mind. Your chest was tight, and your breaths came shallow and quick, as if you couldn’t pull in enough air, couldn’t hold enough of it to ground yourself. Panic wrapped its relentless grip around you, twisting with each racing thought. Everything felt unbearably close, as though the walls of the night itself were pressing in on you.

Jaheira had been sitting beside you by the fire, recounting stories of her travels, her words lulling you to a quiet peace until the wave had started to take over. She turned to you, her face creasing with worry as she noticed the change, her warm expression shifting to one of sharp concern.

“Are you alright?” she asked, her tone soft, hands reaching toward yours.

You tried to nod, tried to ground yourself in her gaze, but the pressure in your chest only grew tighter. The world felt unreal, and no matter how much you fought it, your mind kept spiraling—thoughts blending together, fears and memories piling up until everything was a tangled mess of what-ifs and impossible scenarios.

Jaheira’s eyes widened, realizing something was deeply wrong. Her hands, usually so steady and controlled, trembled as she gently cupped your face.

“Look at me,” she urged, her voice gentle but laced with urgency. “Breathe, alright? Slow breaths. Focus on my voice.”

Her hands were warm, grounding in a way, but even her touch couldn’t completely pull you back. Every fiber of you was fighting to calm down, to ease the storm in your mind, but each attempt felt like trying to grasp smoke. The panic felt endless, and you could see the worry deepen in Jaheira’s eyes as you struggled to respond.

“I… I don’t know what to do,” she murmured, her voice breaking slightly as she glanced around as if seeking an answer in the shadows of the trees. “Please, just… breathe with me, alright? We’ll get through this.”

Her distress tugged at you, piercing through the haze just enough to make you feel guilty for causing her pain, but even that seemed to add to the spiral. You shook your head, squeezing your eyes shut, trying to fight back the rising tide of panic, but it was no use. The tighter you tried to hold on, the harder it was to breathe, and soon you were gasping, fingers digging into the ground as if holding on to something solid could somehow anchor you.

Jaheira shifted closer, wrapping her arms around you, pulling you tightly against her.

“Please, love, come back to me,” she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. “I’m here. You’re safe. Just stay with me.”

There was a desperation in her tone that broke through, her words pressing into the heart of the storm inside you. She was grounding herself in trying to ground you, holding you with a fierce tenderness, her arms strong and unyielding, as if her very presence could keep the panic from consuming you whole. Her fingers gently traced patterns across your back, her breath steady and even as she held you close.

“You’re safe,” she repeated, each word soft and deliberate. “I know it feels overwhelming, but it will pass. Just focus on my voice. I’m right here.”

Little by little, her words began to take root, the pressure loosening in your chest as you leaned into her touch. She kept whispering softly, her words a steady thread that you latched onto, pulling yourself out of the spiral, inch by inch.

After a few minutes, the panic began to ebb, replaced by a heavy exhaustion. Jaheira’s hands never left you, her touch constant and reassuring, her fingers tracing gentle circles on your back as she pressed a soft kiss to the top of your head.

When you finally looked up, her face was tear-streaked, her expression full of relief and love.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, voice raw and shaky. Jaheira shook her head, a faint, tearful smile breaking through as she held you tighter.

“You have nothing to apologize for,” she replied, her tone full of quiet conviction. “I’d face a thousand battles for you… I’ll face this one too. I don’t care how hard it is, how lost you feel. I’ll be here, every time.”

Her words sank in, a warmth settling in the hollow ache that the panic had left behind. You buried your face against her shoulder, letting her words, her presence, become your anchor.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Gale:

It started as a low tremor in your chest—a tiny thread of worry that, on most days, might pass unnoticed. But tonight, under the quiet candlelight and warmth of Gale’s study, it begins to unfurl, insidious, growing with every heartbeat until you’re barely breathing, barely aware of anything but the constriction in your chest, the overwhelming feeling that something is very wrong.

The book in your hands slips to the floor with a soft thud, but it sounds like a thunderclap to your frayed nerves. You clutch the edge of the armrest, struggling for air, unable to quite ground yourself in the room, in the moment.

“Hey… Are you alright?” Gale’s voice breaks through, sounding far off despite his closeness. You can hear the alarm creeping into his tone, and when he moves closer, kneeling beside you, his hands hover uncertainly in the air as though he’s afraid to touch you, unsure of what might help. "Talk to me. What's wrong?"

You want to answer, to say anything, but the words knot up in your throat. Each inhale feels like it could be your last, shallow and jagged, and all you can do is try to gasp for air that never seems to fully come.

Panic flickers in Gale's eyes, an emotion so rarely seen in him. He reaches out, gently brushing his fingers over your shoulder, and then, with more urgency, taking your hand in his.

“It’s okay,” he murmurs, even though he’s clearly just as frightened. “I’m here. I’ve got you.”

You look at him, his face swimming in your vision, distorted by the intensity of your anxiety. A silent tear slips down your cheek, and the sight of it seems to make him crumble. Gale has seen you in battle, in moments of joy and sorrow, but this—this paralyzing, quiet fear—is something entirely new.

“I don’t know what to do, love,” he whispers, voice trembling as he brushes your hair back, his thumb grazing your cheek, catching another tear as it falls. “Just… tell me how to help.”

“I—” Your voice catches, barely a whisper, almost inaudible. “I don’t… I can’t…”

“I’m here,” he repeats, his words soft but determined. “You don’t have to go through this alone.” His hands find yours again, holding them firmly as though his touch alone might be enough to anchor you, to pull you back from the edge.

As the minutes pass, Gale settles beside you on the floor, crossing his legs, staying as close as he can without overwhelming you. His gaze doesn’t waver, fixed on you with a quiet intensity, like he’s willing his calmness to wash over you, to lend you even a sliver of the steadiness that you desperately need.

"Try to breathe with me, alright?" he says after a moment, keeping his voice steady and low, a soft, warm undertone that you can just barely latch onto. "One breath at a time. In, and then out. I’ll do it with you."

You try to focus on him, on the cadence of his words, the slow rhythm of his breathing as he inhales deeply and then lets it out in a slow, measured release. In and out. Over and over. And gradually, your breaths begin to mirror his, hesitant at first but then finding a shaky kind of sync.

Minutes pass in silence, with Gale whispering quiet reassurances, his fingers tracing soothing circles along the back of your hand. He stays close, his presence a grounding force, his warmth beginning to break through the fog.

When the weight in your chest finally begins to ease, your breaths evening out, Gale’s face softens, relief flashing in his eyes as he catches your gaze.

“You’re alright,” he murmurs, leaning in closer. “We’re alright.”

You nod, swallowing back a fresh wave of emotion, this time not from fear but from the tenderness in his voice, the unwavering patience in his gaze.

Gale raises a hand to cup your face, his thumb stroking your cheek, his own eyes glassy with tears of shared relief. "I was… so afraid," he admits, voice thick. "I’ve never seen you like this. I didn’t know if I was doing the right thing."

“You did… just right,” you whisper, the words rough but sincere. You lean into his touch, finding solace in the warmth of his palm against your cheek.

He smiles softly, and the tension in his shoulders melts, replaced by an aching tenderness. “Anytime you need, I’ll be here,” he says. “For as long as you want me.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Astarion:

The night air was heavy, pressing in as you sat by the dying embers of the campfire, your chest tight and breaths shallow. You weren’t even sure when the panic had crept in, only that it was there now, spreading like wildfire. The familiar, suffocating weight of anxiety had taken root, pushing thoughts out of control and magnifying every minor fear into something insurmountable.

Astarion was the first to notice, his usual playful smirk replaced by a look of deepening concern. He took a step closer, his sharp eyes studying you as if searching for some sign he could decipher. You could tell he was trying to mask his worry, but his brow was furrowed, and his hands fidgeted by his sides.

"Love?" he asked, his voice soft but laced with tension. "What's happening? What’s… what’s wrong?"

You tried to respond, but your throat felt closed, as if something tangible were lodged there, blocking any words from escaping. Your mind was awash with racing thoughts, each one louder and more pressing than the last, spiraling faster and faster until you felt lost in the noise.

Astarion reached out, hesitating as though unsure of what to do or how to help, his hand hovering before finally resting lightly on your shoulder. "Hey… Look at me, please. Whatever this is, you’re not alone. I’m here."

But you couldn’t meet his gaze, your eyes fixed downward, hands gripping your knees in a desperate attempt to steady yourself. The fear clawed at you, telling you things would never be alright, that you’d be forever trapped in this choking panic. You could feel Astarion’s fingers tighten, his voice growing sharper with unease.

“I… I don’t know what to do,” he murmured, more to himself than to you. You heard him curse under his breath, the usual mask of bravado slipping away to reveal a vulnerability he rarely showed. He seemed almost frantic, as if desperately trying to piece together what was happening.

A moment later, he lowered himself beside you, his voice gentler, softer. “Listen. Please, listen to me, alright? You don’t have to say anything, but… I need you to hear me.”

You gave a small, involuntary nod, still struggling to focus on anything outside the panic raging inside you. Astarion took a shaky breath, reaching out to take your hand in his. His grip was uncharacteristically warm, steadying, the weight of it something solid to anchor you to the present.

“This feeling, whatever it is… it won’t last forever,” he said, his tone steadying, as if willing it to be true. “I know it doesn’t feel that way right now, but just… try to breathe with me, alright? One breath at a time.”

His voice was calm, even if his expression was anything but. You could see the worry etched in his face, the faint tremor in his hand that betrayed his own anxiety. But he kept speaking, his voice low and unwavering, grounding you with each word.

“Just follow my breath. In… and out,” he whispered, inhaling deeply, exhaling slowly, his eyes never leaving yours. “I’ve spent years in the dark, chained to my own mind, and… and I don’t know how to take away your pain. I want to. But for now… let me be here.”

His words cut through the fog of your mind, just enough to remind you that you weren’t alone. His hand squeezed yours, the slight pressure a reminder of his presence, steady and constant. Gradually, painfully, you tried to match his breaths, focusing on the sound of his voice, the feeling of his hand in yours.

Astarion’s fingers brushed over your knuckles, his touch delicate as if you were something fragile he feared might break. “Whatever darkness you’re feeling, I’ll stay right here. I swear it. And when you’re ready, I’ll help you put the pieces back together.”

The sincerity in his voice was a balm, easing the sharp edges of panic that had gripped you. It was strange, seeing him so unguarded, so openly vulnerable. He stayed by your side, his hand never leaving yours, his presence a lifeline through the worst of the storm. For once, he wasn’t hiding behind humor or bravado; he was simply there, raw and real, with you in your fear.

Slowly, your breaths evened, the crushing weight in your chest loosening just enough for you to draw in a full breath. Astarion noticed immediately, a glimmer of relief softening his expression. His thumb traced slow, soothing circles on the back of your hand, his voice a quiet murmur.

“There you are,” he whispered, a faint smile playing at the corners of his mouth. “One breath at a time. And I’ll be here, through all of it.”

You managed a small, grateful smile, squeezing his hand in return. For once, words felt unnecessary. Just the quiet presence of him beside you, his unwavering loyalty, was enough. And as the remnants of fear finally ebbed away, you leaned into him, letting yourself be held, comforted by the knowledge that, with him, you were never alone.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Wyll:

The first sign is a subtle tremor in your hands, just barely visible, but enough that you feel the prickle of dread in the pit of your stomach. You can’t seem to get a full breath in, your chest tight and shallow as though your lungs are pressing up against a wall. You try to steady yourself, forcing a long inhale and focusing on the quiet rhythm of the camp around you—the distant crackle of the fire, the murmur of voices.

But it doesn’t help. The edges of your vision start to blur, and your thoughts are racing, slipping through your grip like sand.

Wyll is the first to notice, his keen eyes catching the slight shake in your hands, the way your gaze is unfocused. He’s by your side in an instant, worry written in every line of his face as he crouches down, his hand hovering near your shoulder, hesitant.

“Hey, love… Are you all right?” His voice is soft, careful, but it only makes your anxiety spike higher.

You try to speak, to reassure him that you’re fine, that it’s nothing, but the words stick in your throat, tangled and heavy. The more you try to grasp at them, the more they slip away, leaving you fumbling in silence, feeling the wave of panic rise higher and higher.

Wyll’s face changes, his brows knitting together as he takes in the silence, the unsteady breath you’re forcing through clenched teeth.

“Okay, all right…” he murmurs, more to himself than to you, his fingers reaching out tentatively to rest on your arm. “I’m here. Whatever’s going on, I’m right here.”

You’re barely able to nod, the gesture feeling stiff and unnatural, your muscles locked in tension. A small part of you wants to pull away, to hide this unraveling from him, but you can’t move, trapped in a fog of your own spiraling thoughts.

Wyll swallows, clearly unsettled, but he doesn’t pull away. His hand is warm and steady against your arm, grounding even as your mind spins further out of control. He leans closer, voice steady but laced with a faint tremor. “Tell me what you need. Anything, I’ll do it. Just… tell me how to help.”

But you can’t; the words are gone, buried beneath the weight of your anxiety, the way it presses against your chest like a vice. You’re lost in a spiral, every thought louder and more overwhelming than the last, each one feeding into the next in a relentless loop.

You close your eyes, shaking your head slightly, as if that might shake loose the panic.

Wyll’s hand tightens, his grip firm and reassuring even in his own uncertainty. He takes a slow, measured breath, almost as if he’s trying to model it for you, trying to lead you into his rhythm.

“I… I don’t know if this’ll help,” he says, his voice low and soft. “But I’m here. I’m not going anywhere. You’re safe with me.”

He inches closer, one hand tentatively reaching for yours, his thumb tracing gentle circles over your knuckles. The steady warmth of his touch breaks through the fog just enough to let you catch a hint of reality, a reminder of something outside the panic. You try to focus on it, letting the sensation ground you.

Your breath is still shallow, your thoughts still racing, but Wyll doesn’t falter. He keeps his hand over yours, murmuring soft reassurances, his voice steady and calm even as his own anxiety edges into his expression.

Slowly, the crushing pressure in your chest begins to lessen, the loop of thoughts beginning to lose its hold. You focus on Wyll’s touch, his thumb tracing patterns over your hand, the way he murmurs softly, keeping his words gentle and unobtrusive, as though he’s trying not to startle you.

“I’m right here,” he says again, and this time, you’re able to feel it—his presence, solid and unwavering, cutting through the haze. “I’ll be right here until you’re ready. No rush.”

Bit by bit, you begin to anchor yourself to his words, letting them replace the racing thoughts. The fog clears slowly, your breathing evening out as you match the rhythm of his. Finally, you open your eyes to see him watching you, his gaze soft with worry and relief.

He lets out a small, shaky breath, a hand lifting to gently brush your hair back, his fingers lingering as though to remind you he’s still there.

“You don’t ever have to go through that alone,” he murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper, filled with quiet determination. “I’m here, for whatever you need. Always.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Halsin:

The evening had begun with a rare stillness, a gentle calm woven through the golden light filtering into the small clearing you and Halsin had found to spend time together. He was humming as he tended to a fire, casting a glance your way every so often, a warm, gentle smile playing on his lips. But tonight, something felt off in your chest, a faint unease that had begun as a nagging, restless energy, yet had quietly grown until you couldn’t ignore it anymore.

Without warning, that unease blossomed into something sharper and more consuming. Your thoughts tangled and twisted, each one splintering into two, then four, until your mind felt like a mass of fraying threads. Your breaths became short and shallow, each one catching at the back of your throat. The forest around you blurred, the steady shapes of trees and flowers dissolving into a rush of shadowed green, and Halsin’s humming, usually so soothing, only seemed to crowd your senses further.

“Are you alright?” His voice, deep and familiar, brought you back just enough to make you realize that your hands were trembling. He was watching you with concern, his warm brow furrowing as he took a step closer.

You tried to answer, but your voice caught, nothing more than a thin rasp. Panic welled up, the edges of your vision growing dim as every part of you wanted to escape, to run from this terrible feeling clawing through your chest.

“My heart,” he said, more softly, kneeling beside you, his hand reaching for yours, but stopping just before it touched. “Something’s wrong. Please, just breathe with me.”

It was so Halsin, so typically him to stay calm and grounded. But you could only manage a tight, frantic shake of your head as the feeling kept surging, as if it were swallowing you whole. His face fell, an unusual worry clouding his eyes.

“How can I help? Tell me what to do, and I’ll do it,” he pleaded softly, his voice straining with his own rising concern.

You could feel his helplessness, the confusion behind his eyes. You wanted to reach out, to tell him it would pass, that you’d be fine, but the words slipped away. The worry on his face only sharpened your own distress, a dull ache forming in your chest.

He leaned back, taking a deep breath as if grounding himself for the both of you. Gently, he moved to sit closer, keeping his posture open, his eyes gentle yet alert.

“I’m here,” he murmured, voice low and steady. “I’m not leaving.”

The world still felt like it was closing in, but something about his words, his sheer presence, gave you a fragile tether to cling to. You focused on his voice, letting the deep, familiar cadence of it wash over you. Slowly, achingly, your breathing began to match his, pulling in slower, steadier breaths.

“I don’t know what this is like for you,” he continued softly, watching you intently, his voice even as if he didn’t want to disrupt the rhythm you were building. “But I want to understand. I want to help. You don’t have to hide it, not with me.”

You felt the tremor in his words, the sheer sincerity. The weight of them, the softness, eased the tightness in your chest. You closed your eyes, focusing on his presence, his warmth beside you, the smell of the earth and pine that always seemed to linger around him.

After a few more breaths, you managed to reach out, fingers brushing against his hand. He stilled, his eyes searching yours, and then his fingers wrapped carefully around yours. The warmth of his hand grounded you, gave you something real to hold onto.

“You’re safe here,” he said gently. “Whatever you’re feeling, whatever it is—there’s no need to run from it. Not with me here. We can face it together.”

The gentle reassurance was enough to anchor you, enough to let the pounding in your chest ebb just a little. You squeezed his hand, and his answering squeeze felt like a lifeline.

Slowly, he guided you, taking steady breaths in time with yours, whispering soft encouragements and gentle reassurances until the world around you began to settle, and the vice in your chest loosened. The rush of sensations gradually dulled, leaving only Halsin’s presence beside you, solid and comforting, his thumb brushing over your hand in gentle, soothing circles.

When you finally managed to meet his gaze, the worry in his eyes had softened into an expression of deep, unyielding care. He reached up with his free hand, brushing a strand of hair from your face, his touch tender and grounding.

“I am here for you, always,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “Whatever you need. If there’s anything I can do… I will.”

With a weak, grateful smile, you nodded, feeling the warmth of his hand against yours, and finally, the world felt a little safer, a little more steady, simply because he was by your side.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

oof bit of a heavy one, but I hope you guys enjoyed it! - Seluney xox

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

[harunayuuka2060]

*Note: I've decided to rewrite Twst Unseen with the main character now named Yuuzora.*

Yuuzora's father: I received a request from the Ministry of Education. They would like you to observe Night Raven College.

Yuuzora: ...

Yuuzora: What is it this time?

Her father: Nothing specific. They just want to ensure the school is running properly.

Yuuzora: ...

Her father: ...

Her father: It is not urgent. You’ll just need to report anything you deem necessary.

Yuuzora: ...

Yuuzora: I'll be on my way. *leaves the room*

Her father: ...

Her father: *glances at his late wife's portrait*

Her father: Your daughter is a bit stubborn. *smiles bitterly*

Yuuzora: *looking at the students, lets out a sigh of frustration, muttering under her breath* They're like faceless figures...

Crowley: Yuuzora?

Yuuzora: !!!

Crowley: It's a pleasure to meet you. I'm the headmage of the renowned Night Raven College. *smiles*

Yuuzora: ...

Yuuzora: It's nice to meet you, sir.

Crowley: I’m good friends with your father, so when he requested to enroll you here, I was truly delighted!

Yuuzora: How much did he pay you?

Crowley: *clears throat*

Crowley: He'd warned me that you're straightforward, but not this straightforward.

Yuuzora: I figured you wouldn't accept me so easily since I wasn't chosen by the Dark Mirror and it's already halfway through the school year.

Crowley: ...

Crowley: I've always been known for my kindness.

Yuuzora: ...

Kalim: You're our new dorm member?! *grins* Welcome to Scarabia!

Yuuzora: ...

Yuuzora: *confused frown*

Kalim: Hm? What's wrong?

Yuuzora: ...

Yuuzora: I think I'm in the wrong place.

Kalim: Nope! Your dorm is Scarabia. Right, Jamil?

Jamil: Yes. We're expecting you.

Yuuzora: ...

Yuuzora: Great.

[danikamariewrites]

Take Me With You

Bat boys x reader

Note: I didn’t really know how to end this but this is another Cassian centric one oops

Warnings: angst-ish

“Please, please, please, please!” You cry as you squeeze Cassian’s midsection. You weren’t squeezing hard, just a more aggressive hug. And you weren’t going to give up until you got a yes from your mates.

You just found out from the twins that Cass and Rhys will be going to Windhaven for a few days. Azriel had just left for the Mother knows where this morning and that means you would be home alone. You don’t mind being home alone but when your mates leaving is so sudden it gives some anxiety.

Cassian lets out a deep sigh, rubbing his face angrily. “Y/n, we’ve talked about this. Coming with us to Windhaven isn’t a good idea, sweetheart.” You let out a loud groan. Looking at Rhys with pleading eyes he meets you with his own sympathetic look.

“Please Rhys? Azzy just left, now you guys are going to leave me too?” If you should’ve snuggled up to anyone first it was Rhys. Cassian is the strict one and so rarely caves to your begging. Rhys and Azriel on the other hand, those two have no back bone when it comes to you and your precious doe eyes.

Cassian gives Rhys a look that screams don’t you dare. Rhys lets out a sigh, slumping back in his chair. “Cassian and I will talk about it, ok?” You nod against Cassian’s chest. Unwrapping yourself from him you leave Rhys’s office and wait patiently in the sitting room for their decision.

Your mind drifts to Azriel as you wait. He had you all to himself last night, making love to you softly, just taking each other in before he left for the next month.

Azriel held you all night whispering how much he loves you and he’ll miss you and your other mates. You had shed a few tears when Azriel kissed you goodbye that morning. You didn’t want to let go of him.

But you did. Watching them fly off to danger never gets easier. Especially Azriel.

Forty-five minutes later Rhys calls you back to his office. You rush back upstairs, ready for the decision your mates made.

Cassian is sitting rigid in the chair across from Rhys. His jaw clenched as if he’s biting his tongue. You approach slowly, taking a seat next to Cassian, trying not to look at him.

Rhys clears his throat to break the tension. “We,” he emphasizes, “have decided you can come with us. It’ll be a week long trip, we’re leaving in the morning after breakfast so make sure you’re packed.” Rhys says with a small smile on his face.

You grin looking between the pair. “Thank you,” as you turn to Cassian he gets up and leaves. The door to his own office down the hall closes lightly. You deflate in your chair wondering why he’s so angry.

Rhys lets out a tired sigh. “Don’t worry about him, darling. He’s just mad because I overruled him.” He smirks and goes back to the document laying in front of him.

As you head back to the sitting room you can’t help but feel dismissed by your mates. Something about Rhys’s decision just not sitting right with you.

You know Rhys didn’t mean anything by what he said about “overruling” Cassian. You could tell they had an argument. And the last thing you wanted to do was cause tension between Rhys and Cass when they’re about to go to Windhaven.

Turning around you head back upstairs, lightly knocking on Cassian’s door. Entering slowly, he doesn’t take his eyes off of the paper he’s scribbling on.

Clearing your throat you whisper his name. Cassian’s head shoots up, making uneasy eye contact with you. “What’s wrong?” You shake your head. “Nothing. I just wanted to talk.” You cross your arms looking away from your mate, uncomfortable by his borderline hostility.

Cassian relaxes into his high back chair to ease the tension between the two of you. “What’s wrong,” his tone was gentle. You look down at your feet, pushing at the carpet with the toe of your shoe. “If you don’t want me to go to Windhaven I’ll stay home.” You say solemnly. You expected Cassian to breathe a sigh of relief, not be silent.

Looking up at your mate you’re met with a frown pulling at his lips. “Come here, love.” You go to stand between his legs, Cassian’s hands hold yours to his chest. “It’s not that I don’t want you to go. More than anything I want you to be with Rhys and I. But I also want you safe, and I feel like it’s not safe for you there. I’m on edge whenever we go anywhere dangerous and it—I just,” he cuts himself off with a deep breath.

Slipping a hand from his grasp you tangle your fingers in his dark strands. “I didn't think this was going to be so stressful for you, Cass.” You place a soft kiss on his forehead. “I’m sorry.”

Cassian’s eyes take on a hard look, “Don’t. You do not need to apologize for how I’m feeling. If anything we should be the ones saying sorry. It’s not fair to shut you out while Rhys and I make decisions like that.” Cassian stands to fully embrace you. “Please come with us. I can’t leave you knowing how upset you’ll be, especially alone.”

You hug him tighter. “Only if you’re sure.”

“Of course I am,” Cassian kisses the top of your head.

You look up at him, batting your eyelashes at him. “I love you.” Cassian gently cups your face, placing a soft kiss on your lips. “I love you more.”

[valenteal]

Okay I actually really hate this take I’m sorry. Anakin was not possessive or selfish and that’s not what the Jedi taught him.

The way I think of it is that Jedi pursue inner peace by disconnecting themselves emotionally from situations, they feel empathy in a very detached way. That’s what having no attachments means. It’s in the word. The Jedi are Detached from reality as it is perceived by humans.

The Force gives Jedi a glimpse of what it is to be a 4th dimensional entity with consciousness no trapped in a single moment in time. So to a certain extent they don’t actually perceive time linearly and thus do not feel they’ve lost something because it still exists in the past.

So now that we’ve established that yes Jedi are detached from the present let’s move onto the more problematic statement about selfishness and possessiveness.

It is not selfish to want unconditional love. That’s basic human nature. Anakin, a person who clearly suffers from borderline personality disorder which comes with symptoms such as fear of abandonment, an unstable view of the self, devaluing or overvaluing relationships to the point placing of one’s self-worth entirely in another person’s hands, and more, literally needs unconditional love and support. And he developed this disorder in large part because of the Jedi order and the way they treated him. He was simultaneously considered the “chosen one” and considered a burden or a problem. He had to change everything about the way he thought to fit the prescribed mold of what a Jedi should be, and he was held to higher standards because of his perceived “chosen one” status and people were disappointed when he failed to meet them. I know from experience how truly awful it is to be told “i know you can do better” in a disappointed voice when you’re honestly trying your best.

And that’s not even touching on how in Phantom Menace he created strong bonds with both Qui-Gon and Padmé only to have both of the ripped away right after he’d left behind everything he knew and loved. After the movie he was around nothing familiar or comfortable. He didn’t know Obi-Wan and he knew that Obi-Wan hadn’t actually wanted him as an apprentice or even in the Jedi order. So he was surrounded by a bunch of people who all thought he didn’t belong and only let him stay because of a dead man’s wishes. He was NINE and being told that everything he ever learned was wrong and backwards and leads to being evil and that he needs to be perfect for anyone else to think he belonged because even the smallest mistake would just confirm their preconceived beliefs about him.

And that’s not even mention Sidious’s manipulation. Anakin never would have become anything like Vader without Sidious leading him.

Also! There is a difference between possessive and protective! Anakin is protective! He has lost so much he’s clinging desperately to what he has! He wants to protect the one good thing in his life. He doesn’t try to control Padmé, they actually have a very healthy relationship, it’s the situation that’s toxic. Anakin doesn’t view Padmé as a possession, I don’t know why anyone would think that. Oh wait the Clovis arcs. Right. Those exist and other people actually consider them canon. That’s a whole ‘nother rant about writing that I’m not going to get into here. But let’s make this one thing clear, Clone Wars Anakin and movie Anakin are 2 totally different characters psychologically because of the awful reception of the prequel trilogy when it came out.

"no attachments" in SW literally just means "don't be selfish and possessive". that's it. that's all there is. doesn't mean jedi can't have friends and loved ones. they can. just. don't be possessive and selfish about it. don't murder thousands of people in an effort to save one.

[urdreamydoodles]

hi hi! I love your writing and was wondering about what you’d think everyone’s reaction to a drunk us. Maybe we went drinking together and were a lightweight or something (idk 🥲) anyways thank youuuuu!!!

X-Men x Drunk!Reader (Part.1)

How they deal with their drunk s/o (Part.1)

A night out with your partner quickly turns wild as your tipsy self unleashes a little chaos around.

Characters: Logan Howlett, Remy LeBeau, Kurt Wagner, Scott Summers, Jean Grey, Ororo Munroe, Rogue, Erik Lehnsherr, Charles Xavier, Bobby Drake, Wanda Maximoff, Pietro Maximoff, Emma Frost, Raven Darkhölme & Laura Kinney

I was extremely inspired by this prompt, thank you <3

Logan Howlett aka. Wolverine

- Logan is absolutely used to handling chaos, but nothing quite prepares him for the brand of trouble you unleash when tipsy. When you’re several drinks in and decide it’s a good idea to start a spontaneous dance battle with some random patrons, Logan just sighs and crosses his arms, watching with a mix of amusement and exasperation. He’s tempted to pull you away but can’t deny how much he’s enjoying the show.

- He’s mostly unfazed when you start taking your "battle" a bit too far, challenging one particularly large guy to a dance-off. Logan leans against the bar with a smirk, ready to step in if things get out of hand. He figures you can handle yourself, but if anyone so much as looks at you the wrong way, he’s already prepared to make his presence known.

- When you stumble over to him, grinning like you’ve just won a gold medal, he can't help but chuckle, pulling you close and whispering, “You’re a handful, y’know that?” But it’s clear he’s enjoying this different side of you, especially when you insist on dragging him onto the dance floor despite his protests. Logan grumbles but lets you lead, his usual stoicism softening just for you.

- It’s when you try to order “a round for everyone” on his tab that Logan decides enough is enough. He firmly wraps an arm around your waist and steers you away from the bar, muttering about how he’s “not made of money” as you laugh and lean into him. He’s torn between scolding you and letting out a laugh of his own.

- On the walk home, you ramble about the night, sharing exaggerated stories and embellishments that make Logan roll his eyes but secretly cherish every word. Despite his gruff exterior, he listens to every detail, finding the way you see the world endlessly entertaining and a perfect counterbalance to his own guarded nature.

- By the time you’re back, Logan’s more than happy to tuck you in, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face. You’re finally starting to settle, mumbling something about how much fun you had with him. He just smiles, placing a soft kiss on your forehead. “You’re trouble,” he murmurs, though you can hear the affection in his voice. He wouldn’t have it any other way.

Remy LeBeau aka. Gambit

- Remy absolutely thrives on chaos, and he’s more than ready to encourage it the moment he sees you’ve had a few drinks. When you suddenly decide it’s a great idea to “borrow” someone’s hat and start spinning it around like a magician, Remy’s right there, egging you on with a wicked grin and suggesting even wilder antics. “Go on, chérie, show ‘em what you got.”

- He’s delighted when you turn to him with that mischievous sparkle in your eye, pulling him into your impromptu show. You two quickly become the center of attention as he plays along, letting you use his trench coat for added flair while he flourishes a deck of cards with his signature charm, drawing oohs and ahhs from the crowd.

- When you start loudly declaring that Remy’s “the best-looking man in the room,” he just smirks and pulls you close, whispering, “Tell me somethin’ I don’t know, ma belle.” You can tell he’s absolutely eating up every bit of attention, and he makes sure to dip you dramatically on the dance floor, laughing along with you.

- Things escalate when you decide to start a card game with some nearby strangers, with Remy’s deck, of course. You might be a little hazy on the rules, but he’s having too much fun watching you bluff your way through. The two of you make a formidable (if slightly unorthodox) team, charming everyone at the table with your combined wit and unpredictability.

- Remy makes sure to keep you steady when you start wobbling a bit, an arm always draped around your shoulders as he guides you from one bit of chaos to the next. He’s vigilant without being obvious, letting you have your fun while ensuring no one gets too handsy or tries to take advantage of your state.

- When the night winds down, he insists on carrying you back if you’re stumbling, laughing when you protest that you can walk just fine. Once home, he lays you on the bed with exaggerated gentleness, grinning down at you with that signature smirk of his. “Ma belle, you certainly know how t’ keep things interestin’,” he whispers before placing a soft kiss on your hand. For Remy, nights like this with you are what make life exciting.

Kurt Wagner aka. Nightcrawler

- Kurt is simultaneously amused and a bit alarmed when he realizes you’re tipsy. He’s not used to you being so bold, so when you start loudly complimenting him and declaring him “the handsomest guy in the room,” his cheeks turn a dark shade of blue. He tries to calm you down, but you’re too busy grabbing his hand and dragging him toward the dance floor.

- At first, Kurt’s hesitant to join you, worried that his appearance might draw stares. But you’re so unbothered and so full of joy that he can’t help but relax, letting you lead him. His movements are clumsy but endearing, and he laughs along with you, his tail swishing in rhythm as he finally lets go of his worries, at least for tonight.

- When you start insisting on “showing everyone his bamf trick,” Kurt chuckles nervously, trying to talk you out of it. But you’re persistent, so he finally gives in, teleporting the two of you across the room in a puff of smoke. Your delighted laughter is infectious, and he starts teleporting you both to random spots around the club, filling the room with giggles and gasps from onlookers.

- Eventually, you try to climb up on a table to make an “important announcement,” and Kurt quickly teleports you back down before you can get too carried away. He’s laughing as he steadies you, but there’s a hint of worry in his eyes. “Mein liebe, maybe we should stick to safer activities, ja?” he teases, holding your hands firmly in his.

- As the night goes on, Kurt never strays far from your side. He’s a mixture of amused, charmed, and just a little bit flustered by your antics, but he’s also keenly aware of the attention you’re drawing. When anyone tries to get a little too close, he’ll bamf in between you and them, a protective look on his face as he politely but firmly keeps them at bay.

- Once you’re back home, he’s the sweetest caretaker, making sure you’re comfortable and tucking you in with a gentle smile. He holds your hand as you drift off, murmuring softly in German about how lucky he is to have someone as vibrant and fearless as you in his life. Even in your chaotic moments, Kurt’s love for you only grows stronger.

Scott Summers aka. Cyclops

- Scott is a bit hesitant when he notices you’ve had a few too many drinks, but he’s dedicated to making sure you’re safe and enjoying yourself. When you start insisting on trying to wear his visor and “see the world through his eyes,” he’s both flustered and exasperated, gently guiding your hands away with a laugh. “Trust me, you wouldn’t want that,” he says, trying to keep a straight face as you pout.

- You surprise him by dragging him onto the dance floor, and Scott, ever the responsible one, initially tries to decline. But seeing you so excited and insistent, he finally gives in. He might be awkward at first, but he quickly adjusts to your rhythm, even pulling you close and twirling you in an attempt to match your enthusiasm.

- When you declare loudly to a few nearby patrons that Scott Summers is “the best and most handsome leader,” he can’t help but blush. He’s clearly flattered and a bit embarrassed by the attention, but he just nods, smiling shyly, as you shower him with compliments. He feels oddly proud of your open affection, even if he’s a little overwhelmed by it.

- Scott keeps a close eye on you throughout the night, gently steering you away from any potential trouble or prying eyes. When someone bumps into you, causing you to stumble, he’s right there to steady you, one hand firmly on your waist. He’s the picture of a protective boyfriend, subtly keeping others at bay while still letting you enjoy yourself.

- When you start to get a little too loud and insist on “making a toast to the greatest mutant leader ever,” Scott decides it’s probably time to get you home. He chuckles softly, catching your hand and guiding you out of the club, all the while listening to your increasingly dramatic proclamations of love and admiration. He’s touched by it all, even if he won’t admit it.

- Back home, Scott helps you settle in, making sure you’re comfortable and well-hydrated. He sits by your side, holding your hand as you drowsily tell him how much you love him. Scott just smiles, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. “I love you too, even when you’re a handful,” he murmurs, content to stay by your side until you fall asleep.

Jean Grey aka. Marvel Girl / Phoenix

- Jean is equal parts entertained and concerned when she realizes you’re tipsy. She’s usually the responsible one, but she can’t help but laugh when you start slurring your words and calling her your “favorite telepathic goddess.” Jean blushes, clearly flattered by your adoration, and gently shushes you, though she’s clearly enjoying every second of it.

- When you start dancing wildly, Jean initially tries to calm you down, worried about drawing attention. But seeing the joy in your eyes, she eventually lets her guard down and joins you, holding your hands and spinning you around as you laugh. She’s surprisingly graceful and a fantastic dancer, easily matching your energy and guiding you through the moves.

- At one point, you insist that you and Jean “show off your telepathic connection” to the crowd. Jean laughs, gently steering you away from the idea. Instead, she subtly uses her powers to make sure you don’t stumble, mentally guiding you to stay upright and steady. Her subtle help goes unnoticed by you, but she’s just relieved to see you having fun.

- Jean finds herself laughing even more when you start a friendly debate with a nearby stranger about the “genius” of her red hair. She can’t believe how fiercely you’re defending her beauty, even as you insist it’s a “scientific fact” that she’s the most gorgeous woman in the room. Jean’s cheeks flush, and she wraps an arm around your waist, whispering, “You’re adorable, you know that?”

- When you start to get tired, Jean’s the perfect caretaker, gently guiding you out of the bustling club. She makes sure you’re cozy, even grabbing her own jacket to drape over your shoulders. She keeps a hand on you the entire way home, reassuring you and quietly laughing at your sleepy, affectionate murmurs.

- Once back, Jean gets you settled on the couch, brushing stray hair out of your face with the softest smile. You reach for her hand, mumbling something about how lucky you are to have her. She blushes, leaning down to press a soft kiss to your forehead. “I’m the lucky one,” she whispers, more to herself than to you, as she sits by your side until you drift off.

Ororo Munroe aka. Storm

- Ororo is incredibly amused when she realizes you’re tipsy; she’s rarely seen this side of you, and she finds it adorable. When you start calling her your “queen of the skies” and insisting she “make it rain just for fun,” she laughs and gently pats your cheek, reminding you that some powers are best kept for emergencies.

- You grab her hand and pull her onto the dance floor, much to her surprise. Ororo might be a graceful and poised leader, but she has a playful side too. She lets you lead, laughing as you spin her around, her silver hair flowing around her as she dances with surprising ease. It’s a rare sight, and you can tell she’s having fun, loosening up just for you.

- When you start loudly telling everyone nearby that “Ororo is the most powerful woman in the world,” she tries to shush you, laughing softly. She’s both flattered and slightly embarrassed by the attention, but she allows you to bask in her presence. She’ll gently tease you for your enthusiasm, a fond look in her eyes as she watches you defend her honor.

- Ororo’s always watching out for you, subtly guiding you away from any potential trouble. If you start to stumble or look a little too wobbly, she’s right there to steady you, her hand on your shoulder and a calm smile on her face. She finds a certain joy in taking care of you, grateful for this softer side of your relationship.

- At one point, you try to “command the winds” like her, playfully imitating her powers. Ororo laughs, incredibly entertained by your antics. She doesn’t mind the teasing, and she even indulges you by summoning a soft breeze that ruffles your hair, making you gasp in delight. “See? The winds listen to you too,” she jokes with a wink.

- When you’re finally ready to head home, Ororo makes sure you’re comfortable, holding your hand and gently brushing your cheek as you murmur about how amazing she is. She chuckles softly, telling you stories of her adventures to help you relax. Once home, she tucks you in with a gentle kiss on your forehead, whispering, “Sleep well, my love,” as she watches over you, content and deeply in love.

Anna Marie aka. Rogue

- Rogue is equal parts amused and nervous as she watches you go from a few drinks to a bit too tipsy. You start telling her she’s “the prettiest southern belle ever,” and she can’t help but blush and laugh, giving you a playful shove. But there’s a touch of worry in her eyes—she’s protective and feels a need to make sure you’re okay.

- When you try to dance with her, Rogue hesitates, but your enthusiasm is contagious. She ends up joining you, making sure to keep her gloved hands carefully in place. She’s gentle but full of energy, matching your moves while constantly keeping an eye on you to make sure you don’t trip over your own feet. Her laughter is light and warm, and she looks almost carefree.

- You start raving about how amazing Rogue is, telling random people nearby how she’s “a hero who can’t even touch people, but still manages to save the world.” She gets a bit flustered and shy, trying to hush you with a soft “sugar, that’s enough,” but the pride in her eyes is unmistakable. No one’s ever praised her like that before, and it means a lot.

- When someone accidentally bumps into you, and you look about ready to start a tipsy argument, Rogue steps in with a charming Southern drawl and defuses the situation. She’s got a sweet, calming presence when she wants to, and she manages to steer you away with ease, laughing about it afterward while holding your arm gently.

- Rogue knows when you’re reaching your limit and insists on taking you home, using a soft but firm tone to make sure you listen. She doesn’t want anything bad to happen to you, and seeing you a bit out of it brings out her nurturing side. “Alright, sugar, let’s get ya back before you do somethin’ we’ll both regret,” she says, guiding you with a patient smile.

- Once home, she sits with you, listening as you tell her how much you love her and appreciate her strength. Rogue’s heart swells with emotion, and she gently brushes a gloved hand along your cheek. “You’re somethin’ special, darlin’,” she murmurs, her voice warm and full of affection, staying with you until you’re sound asleep.

Erik Lehnsherr aka. Magneto

- Erik is a bit bemused but mostly wary when he notices you’re getting tipsy. He’s used to maintaining control in every situation, and your loosened inhibitions make him a bit nervous. But when you start complimenting his intelligence and calling him “the smartest, most powerful man in the room,” he lets a rare smile slip, finding your praise amusing.

- You start dragging him around, pointing at various metallic objects in the bar and insisting he show off his powers. He rolls his eyes at first, but he eventually indulges you by making a few small metallic items hover, just to see the joy on your face. Erik isn’t one to perform tricks, but he finds himself unable to say no to you.

- When you loudly declare that “Magneto is the future of mutantkind,” he tries to quiet you, but he’s clearly flattered by your support. He’s a man who’s used to admiration but doesn’t often receive it so openly. There’s a softness in his eyes as he places a firm hand on your shoulder, guiding you back to your seat with a chuckle.

- Erik stays close to you, watching with an amused smile as you stumble through conversations and rant about how incredible he is. He’s fiercely protective, stepping in if anyone so much as looks at you the wrong way. He’s calm, composed, and carries an air of authority that subtly warns others not to mess with you.

- At one point, you try to mimic his deep, imposing voice, quoting some of his more famous speeches. He’s visibly amused, and even a bit impressed at how well you remember his words. Erik finds your respect for his ideals endearing, and he places a gentle hand on your back, chuckling as he listens to your tipsy impression.

- When it’s time to leave, he’s entirely in control, guiding you out with a strong arm around your shoulders. Once home, Erik sits with you, listening as you share your adoration for him. He’s not the most openly affectionate man, but he reaches out, gently squeezing your hand as he says, “Your loyalty is a rare gift, and I don’t take it lightly.” He stays by your side, quietly protective, until you’re resting peacefully.

Charles Xavier aka. Professor X

- Charles is endlessly patient as you start to get a little tipsy, a gentle smile on his face as you go from poised to adorably unfiltered. When you begin praising his brilliance and calling him “the kindest genius in the world,” he chuckles, incredibly touched. “Flattery will get you everywhere,” he teases, his eyes warm with affection.

- You insist that he shows off his powers, and Charles tries to decline, but your insistence eventually makes him give in. He subtly uses his telepathy to give you an image of your favorite place, a soothing mental picture that instantly makes you smile. He finds joy in seeing you happy, and he uses his powers in the gentlest, most comforting way.

- Charles is protective and attentive, ensuring you’re comfortable and not getting yourself into any trouble. When you loudly declare your love for him in front of others, he’s both embarrassed and deeply moved, his cheeks flushing slightly. “You’re quite the charmer tonight,” he whispers, his voice filled with warmth as he gently holds your hand.

- When someone tries to join your conversation, and you’re too tipsy to notice their intentions, Charles politely but firmly steps in, his calm authority enough to send them on their way. He might be gentle, but he can be firm when needed, and he’s especially vigilant when it comes to keeping you safe.

- You start telling Charles that he’s the greatest leader mutantkind could ever ask for, and he’s genuinely humbled, listening with a fond smile as you praise his wisdom and kindness. He doesn’t always let himself accept such compliments, but coming from you, they mean the world to him, and he quietly thanks you with a soft, appreciative kiss on your hand.

- When it’s time to leave, he makes sure you’re steady, guiding you with gentle hands and a reassuring presence. Back home, he helps you get comfortable, listening as you continue to express your admiration for him. Charles smiles, stroking your hand and murmuring, “I’m grateful for your support more than you know.” He stays by your side, his calm and comforting presence grounding you until you drift off to sleep.

Bobby Drake aka. Iceman

- Bobby finds your drunken antics both hilarious and endearing. As the night progresses, you start comparing him to a “walking snow cone” and insisting that he make ice sculptures for you on demand. Bobby, always up for a bit of fun, humors you by creating little ice animals in the palm of his hand, laughing as your eyes light up in delight.

- When you slip on an ice patch he accidentally created, Bobby quickly catches you, apologizing profusely while chuckling. You start calling him your “snow prince” and playfully berate him for “making the world slippery.” He just grins, his hold on you steady, clearly enjoying your tipsy declarations and the way you cling to him.

- You insist on taking selfies with him, urging him to freeze up cute little props for the photos. Bobby goes all out, conjuring up ice hats, snowflake glasses, and even a tiny ice crown for you. By the end, your phone is full of adorable photos of the two of you laughing and posing together.

- When you go off on a tangent, telling the bartender and anyone nearby how incredible Bobby is, he gets a bit bashful but loves every second. Bobby has always loved being the center of attention, but hearing you proudly gush about him has him smiling like a fool. He playfully nudges you, saying, “Keep it coming, babe; I don’t hear this enough!”

- When you get a bit too warm in the crowded room, Bobby uses his powers to create a gentle, cool breeze just for you. You giggle and thank him, calling him your “personal A/C,” and he chuckles, wrapping his arm around you and playfully cooling you down whenever you request it.

- By the end of the night, Bobby is happily holding you up, guiding you home with an arm around your shoulders. He listens as you continue to talk about how wonderful he is, and he just grins, giving you a quick, frosty kiss on the forehead. “You’re pretty amazing yourself,” he says, staying with you until you’re safely tucked in and fast asleep.

Wanda Maximoff aka. The Scarlet Witch

- Wanda is amused by how talkative and unfiltered you get when you’re drunk. She’s often quiet and reserved herself, so seeing you let loose makes her smile. You start rambling about how “beautiful and powerful” she is, and she blushes, trying to brush it off, but your sincerity warms her heart.

- When you ask her to use her powers to make things “magical,” Wanda gently warns you, not wanting to attract too much attention. But when she sees the hopeful look in your eyes, she can’t resist. With a subtle flick of her fingers, she makes tiny red sparks dance in the air around you, creating a little “magic show” that leaves you giggling with joy.

- At one point, you try to mimic her iconic hand gestures, waving your hands around dramatically as if casting a spell. Wanda laughs softly, guiding your hands in the proper motions. “Like this, darling,” she murmurs, her fingers intertwined with yours as she playfully shows you her “magic moves.”

- When someone bumps into you a bit too roughly, Wanda steps forward, a protective fire in her eyes. Though she doesn’t escalate the situation, there’s a warning in her gaze that makes the person quickly apologize. She holds you close, whispering, “You’re safe with me,” her voice soothing and reassuring.

- As the night goes on, you keep insisting that Wanda is “the most powerful and amazing person ever,” and she laughs, flattered by your drunken praise. “You might be a little biased,” she teases, but there’s a soft blush on her cheeks, and you can tell she’s deeply touched by your admiration.

- When it’s time to go home, Wanda wraps an arm around you, using a bit of her magic to guide you gently so you don’t stumble. Once you’re home, she stays with you, listening as you continue to talk about how much you adore her. She strokes your hair and whispers, “You mean the world to me too,” staying by your side until you drift off into a peaceful sleep.

Pietro Maximoff aka. Quicksilver

- Pietro finds your drunken state absolutely hilarious, especially when you start trying to mimic his super-speed by running around. He quickly catches you each time, his laughter filling the air as he playfully warns you that “You’re not quite fast enough, babe!”

- You start challenging him to races, even though you know he’ll win. Pietro humors you, letting you “win” a couple of times, but eventually, he zips past you with a playful smirk. “Better luck next time!” he teases, only to scoop you up and spin you around when you pout about losing.

- When you get tired, Pietro is immediately by your side, lifting you into his arms without a second thought. You giggle and tell him he’s “better than a rollercoaster,” and he laughs, racing around just to hear your delighted squeals. He loves seeing you happy and will do anything to keep you smiling.

- When someone looks at you a bit too long for Pietro’s liking, he’s instantly protective, wrapping an arm around your shoulders and making it very clear that you’re his. He glares at the person until they look away, then turns back to you with a soft smile, his fingers brushing your cheek affectionately.

- You start bragging to strangers about Pietro’s speed, telling them he’s “the fastest guy in the world,” and Pietro just laughs, loving how proud you are of him. “Keep it up, and I’ll have to show off even more,” he says, giving you a cheeky wink as he zips around the room, just to impress you.

- By the end of the night, he’s carrying you home, his arms strong and steady around you as he runs. You cling to him, your arms wrapped around his neck, and he smiles, whispering, “I’ve got you, always.” Once you’re home, Pietro stays by your side, listening as you drift off, mumbling about how much you love him. He kisses your forehead, whispering, “Love you too, my slowpoke.”

Emma Frost aka. The White Queen

- Emma finds your drunken state absolutely fascinating, especially when you become more playful and bold. Normally calm and reserved, you start teasing her about her “icy” demeanor, and she’s amused, a rare smirk on her face as she listens to you try to “crack” her tough exterior. She’s secretly charmed by your confidence.

- When you dramatically declare that she’s “the most beautiful woman in the world,” Emma rolls her eyes with a soft laugh but secretly enjoys every word. She’s used to compliments, but something about hearing them from you, even in your tipsy state, makes her feel genuinely adored. She’ll brush a hand over your cheek, murmuring, “Careful with those compliments, darling—you’re liable to spoil me.”

- As the night progresses, you start showing off for her, attempting overly elaborate gestures and winking clumsily. Emma finds your efforts hilarious but still looks at you with genuine affection. Her fingers brush yours, and she lets herself be a bit softer with you, impressed by your uninhibited side.

- When someone gives you a bit too much attention, Emma is instantly protective. She’ll stand close to you, radiating that commanding aura, and make it clear that you’re taken. She’ll give you a subtle nod, as if to say, “Don’t worry—I’ve got you,” and her calm confidence reassures you instantly.

- You get a little bolder as the night goes on, playfully daring her to dance or try something “un-Emma-like.” Amused and intrigued, she might indulge you, swaying slightly to the music or even placing your hand in hers for a private moment. She’ll laugh, saying, “You’re lucky I’m in a generous mood tonight,” though you can tell she’s enjoying herself.

- When it’s time to leave, Emma makes sure you’re steady, her arm around your waist as she guides you to the car. She’ll whisper little reassurances, telling you how much she appreciates this rare, open side of you. Once home, she’ll help you settle in, her voice soft and reassuring, reminding you that she’s there for you completely.

Raven Darkhölme aka. Mystique

- Mystique is both amused and intrigued by your drunken state. Normally guarded, you become surprisingly talkative, telling her all sorts of stories. She listens with a raised eyebrow, smirking at your candidness. “So, this is what I miss when you’re sober?” she’ll tease, clearly enjoying this rare glimpse into your unfiltered thoughts.

- You keep reaching out to touch her, fascinated by her blue skin and how it shifts under your fingers. Mystique finds this endearing, gently teasing you but allowing you to trace her features. She’s rarely this vulnerable, but your innocent curiosity brings out a softer side, and she even leans into your touch.

- When you start rambling about how “amazing” and “mysterious” she is, Mystique just chuckles, a rare, genuine smile crossing her face. Normally, she brushes off praise, but hearing it from you makes her feel appreciated in a way she’s not used to. She might even mutter, “Careful, or I’ll start believing you.”

- As the night goes on, you get into a bit of mischief together, with Mystique indulging your chaotic ideas. She’ll shift into different forms to amuse you, and you giggle every time she surprises you with a new face. Her laughter is warm and genuine, her guard completely down as she shares these fun moments with you.

- If anyone even looks at you the wrong way, Mystique’s protective instincts kick in. She’ll throw a deadly glare their way, making it very clear that you’re off-limits. Her fierce loyalty to you is both comforting and thrilling, and you find yourself feeling safe and cherished in her presence.

- When it’s time to go, she keeps an arm around you, guiding you back with quiet reassurances. She murmurs little words of comfort, her voice softer than usual, and even hums a low melody to keep you calm. Once home, she stays by your side, brushing your hair back and promising, “I’m here, always.”

Laura Kinney aka. X-23 / Wolverine

- Laura is a bit confused by your drunken antics, as she’s not exactly used to seeing you so uninhibited. She watches with curiosity and maybe a little amusement as you sway around, stumbling slightly. Laura finds herself oddly charmed by this side of you, even if she’s unsure how to respond at first.

- You keep reaching out to hold her hand or touch her arm, and though Laura is usually reserved, she lets you. Your affection surprises her, but she’s not one to pull away, especially with you. When you look up at her with that tipsy grin, she can’t help the tiny smile that breaks through her usual stoic expression.

- When you start playfully teasing her, calling her “your fierce protector” and joking about her serious demeanor, Laura is both amused and a bit flustered. She’s never had someone look at her like you do, with so much warmth and admiration, and your words mean more to her than she’ll let on.

- As the night goes on, Laura gets a bit protective. If you start wandering or leaning too close to others, she’ll gently pull you back, her grip steady but careful. “Stay close,” she’ll murmur, her voice soft but firm, a little blush on her cheeks as she realizes just how much she likes keeping you safe.

- You keep talking about how “amazing” she is, going on and on about her strength, courage, and loyalty. Laura is taken aback, not used to hearing such open admiration, but she listens quietly, her heart swelling with pride. She doesn’t say much, but her hand stays in yours, squeezing gently whenever you look her way.

- By the end of the night, she’s helping you home, a quiet but steady presence by your side. Laura makes sure you’re comfortable, brushing hair from your face as you drift off. Before leaving, she murmurs, “I’ll always keep you safe,” her voice barely a whisper. She stays nearby, her protective instincts on high, ensuring you’re well cared for as you sleep.

[suzukiblu]

Day five of “obligatory sugar baby Kon” behind the cut. tw: implications of past grooming/abuse and the inherent problems in someone who was in that situation trying to flirt with someone actually age-appropriate. ( everyone's having fun! so much sugary, fluffy, definitely-not-emotionally-fraught fun!! 🙃 ) prev: (( chrono || non-chrono ))

“That’s not–I told you that you didn’t have to do anything like that,” he says stiffly. “That that’s not a–condition of any of this.” 

“I–yeah, I know,” Kon says, frowning a little deeper and looking–uncertain, now. Mostly just around the eyes, Tim can’t help noticing. Mostly just around where opaque sunglasses wouldn’t show any tells. “You said. I just–I thought–” 

“It’s just–not something you have to do,” Tim says, because Kon doesn’t look like he knows how to find the end of whatever sentence he’s trying to say and he needs to say something, he knows. He just–he thought they’d had this conversation, and that Kon had laughed at him because he’d thought he was being stupid to feel like he had to say it, not . . . 

Is that why Kon had laughed, or did he laugh because he thought Tim was lying to him about something he didn’t think he needed lied to about, or . . . ? 

“I know,” Kon says, biting his lip for a moment. “Like–I wanna, like . . . do this. Like, I don’t think you’re, you know–trying to be an asshole about it or anything.” 

Tim hears “this”, and wonders if Kon means he wants to act like the way he was just acting, or if Kon just means he wants to date him, and thinks this has to be part of that. It’s not . . . clear, maybe. He’s not even sure how to ask Kon that, or if Kon would even understand the question if he did. 

He’s pretty damn sure that “trying to be an asshole” is a translation of something way worse, though. 

“I don’t know what that means,” he says, mostly to buy himself time to figure out what he should be saying. “You want to do–what, exactly?” 

“Whatever you want,” Kon says, and Tim feels nauseous. 

“No you don’t,” he says, inane and useless. 

“I do,” Kon says, shifting his posture into something too-deliberate and too-practiced and just not normal to see on another teenager, and Tim has a flashed moment of intense awareness of just how not-prepared for whatever’s about to come out of Kon’s mouth that he actually–“You can just–tell me what to do, if I’m doing it wrong. Or just do whatever you want. I’ll like it. Promise.” 

There is literally no possible way that Kon could know that, part of Tim thinks, but the rest of him is thinking okay so who EXACTLY gave Kon the impression that he should be saying things like this to someone he barely knows, and how do I most effectively destroy their credit and job prospects and also every single thing they’ve ever loved?

And on top of that, who the hell taught Kon that saying things like that isn’t, like–way too much way too fast, if nothing else? Because again, he has some lives to maybe destroy a little. Like–just a bit. 

Because it’s definitely, definitely something Kon got taught. It’s just–it’s way too obvious, that all this is something he got taught. 

“Why do you think I’d do that?” Tim asks, and Kon–hesitates, a little, a flash of embarrassed self-consciousness crossing the backs of his eyes again. 

“I–it’s just–” Kon attempts, half-fumbling whatever he’s trying to say, and then more or less babbles out an awkward, stuttered explanation of: “I mean technically this is already, like, our fourth date, counting the coffee place and all, and I just–like, you're–you said you didn't wanna do all this stuff for me just ‘cuz I saved your life. I thought that meant . . . I thought you meant . . .” 

He trails off, looking a little helpless and a lot more embarrassed, and Tim feels like an asshole and an idiot and ten steps closer to going supervillain and burning down the world. Or the reality. Or the multiverse.

Just–anywhere that made Kon have to be embarrassed about this. 

“That I only wanted to sleep with you?” he asks, trying not to let his voice get too tight. “I told you, that’s not–” 

“Ithoughtyoumeantyoulikedme,” Kon blurts in a rush, jerking his head to the side to look away and also looking just shy of humiliated.

[airyairyaucontraire]

After continuing to read a bit about this (because who doesn't need a distraction this evening?) I think the real answer may be that corn mazes planned and grown as a maze from the beginning originated in 1993 (with "Cornelius the Cobasaurus" at Lebanon Valley College in Pennsylvania). I can find lots of articles online about the ensuing boom in custom-designed corn mazes, all repeating much the same information, but not much other than that tiny paragraph from 1989 to attest to their existence earlier on. This 2023 article by "Big Chuck" D'Imperio of upstate New York, however, says:

I remember when I was a kid in the 1950s and 1960s that a corn maze was just a couple of rows cleared out in a farmers cornfield.  Don't get me wrong, they were fun when you were 8 or ten years old.  But, brother, they are nothing like the corn mazes of today!

So at least we have Big Chuck's word for it: small, simple corn mazes that were not the main purpose of the field existed in the 1950s and 60s, predating the economic shifts OP highlights by decades.

corn mazes were invented WHEN???

[cuubism]

Idk if you are still taking prompts, but: After their first meeting, while Hob still thinks it is a joke, he escorts Dream out. It is only when Dream returns to the Dreaming that he realizes his ruby has been stolen by Hob. Thus begins a game of cat and mouse through the ages, and Hob keeps slipping through his Endless fingers.

oh dear, this was from last year. fun though! could be the basis for a much longer fic. i love thief hob

-

Hob knows better than to gloat openly about his winnings, but he can't help tossing the ruby a few times in his hand as he walks, admiring it. Such a stunning gem, he's never seen its like but in paintings of kings, and even those are rare enough. Invaluable. And the strange lord had just had it about his neck, for all to see.

Hob shakes his head, tucking the ruby away in his tunic. Money can't buy common sense, it seems.

He finds his horse in the stable and leads it outside, stepping into the stirrup and swinging up into the saddle. After a find like this, best to disappear. Easy as the ruby had been to snatch, that strange young lord will doubtless come back looking for it, once he notices it's gone.

Night is falling by the time Hob reaches the treeline. He hasn't been followed--the path behind him has been empty for hours, and the trees show nothing but birdsong as he steers his horse into the darkness. Hob knows this route well, and by the time the moon is high above, he's navigated to a familiar clearing, untacked his horse, and sat back against a tree for some rest.

He can't help but look at the strange ruby one more time before going to sleep. It glows unnaturally in the moonlight, a blue-white reflection on a background of venous red. He tilts it back and forth in his palm, studying the cut. Who, exactly, is going to buy this from him, he can't yet say. But it'll pay his way for years once he finds them.

Hob kisses the ruby's cool surface, then tucks it away in his tunic again, chain wrapped around his fingers for safekeeping. He quickly falls asleep.

-

The moon is still high when Hob wakes, startling back to awareness against the trunk of the tree. He scrubs a hand over his eyes, looking around, disoriented. Strange, it's like it's been only moments since he fell asleep--

His horse is gone. So's his pack. And for that matter, the clearing is smaller, closer, darker than he remembers--

Heart pounding, he scrambles in his tunic to find--

"I imagine you are looking for this," says a low voice, and from the darkness emerges the wine-red glint of the ruby. Following it is the dark shape of the lord Hob had robbed in the tavern, only he's-- he's--

He's horrible. His eyes glow white in the dark, his hair waves in a strange wind, and everything about him is sharp and wrong, like an uneasy nightmare Hob might have in the wee hours, consequences coming back for him.

"Look," he says, holding up his hands in self-defense. Shit, his sword's gone from his belt, too. "S'really your fault for swanning about with that thing, innit? 's bandit country, m'lord."

"Is it?" He... doesn't seem angry. He's smiling. Oh, it's a terrible smile, but nevertheless. "How foolish of me, then. To expect to maintain ownership of my belongings."

"Like I said, thieves about," Hob says. "Got to be careful, now." Really, what did he expect Hob to do? Let someone else get the score?

The strange lord sits down on the grass across from Hob, still with those glowing eyes and that terrible smile playing about his lips. "And what, Robert Gadling, ought I to do, having caught one of these thieves?"

And the thing is. Authority doesn't work very well on Hob. One of his 'flaws' most like to get him killed, 'cuz Authority didn't tend to care whether it worked on you or not. Hob's been hauled before the magistrate for theft before and no matter that he knew he'd be lucky to get away with his life he could never quite bite his tongue. Always a smart mouth, his mum used to say.

It's no different with this lord. Hob's hardly about to bow his head and apologize. He remembers the smirk on the other man's face at his challenge in the tavern. Pretty little thing to be talking big words about punishing thieves.

"Dunno," he says, tracking his gaze over the soft lines of the man's dark robe, his fine neck and narrow shoulders. The longer Hob looks, the less frightening he seems, though there is still something of the otherworld about him. God's teeth, if Hob's brought the ire of the fey about him... "What would you like to do?"

And the strange creature laughs. Just a chuckle, but nevertheless. "I could make you spend your next one hundred years paying a thief's price over and over again in the Dreaming, as penance for taking my ruby," he says. "Should I do that, Hob? Cut off your hands, and again and again as you regrow them?"

"If you did you wouldn't get to see what they can do for you," Hob says. Hell, Hob'll do it even without threat of punishment. He's a pretty little lord, for certain, even if he is fey.

The lord chuckles again, and closes his fist around the ruby, stealing its light. Without the reflection, his eyes seem even wilder. "Hm. Perhaps not this time. I am too curious to waste your next century in sleeping punishment." He takes Hob's face in one hand, holding his chin in sharp fingers. "Be wary what your hands touch in the Waking World, Hob Gadling. Not all creatures will find your insolence humorous enough to wish to be merciful."

He lets go, and Hob falls backward through the tree at his back, falls into darkness--

And wakes in sunlight, his pack beside him, his sword at his side, his horse grazing a few feet away.

Heart pounding, he shoves his hand into his tunic, though he already knows what he'll find.

Or what he won't find. The ruby, gone into the darkness, into dreams, with his strange, fey lord.

Hob shivers.

Well. He'll certainly have to meet him again in 1489, now. Not to retake the ruby--that hardly matters in the end.

But answers to all the mysteries it's brought: those Hob would gladly steal.