#You're Clearly Well-Read and Intelligent

[quasi-normalcy]

So obviously, the most obnoxious and useless sort of science fiction criticism is provided by angry dumb guys screaming into microphones about things being "woke"; but I also get annoyed by the people who insist on applying a sort of "roman-á-clé" reading, where everything in the story is merely a disguised stand-in for some real-world human political issue. Like, yes, obviously, sf is used for social and political commentary a lot of the time; but it's *also* used to just kind of play around on the frontiers of possibility. And it frankly seems kind of demeaning to the genre to pretend that its alien, its bizarre, and its inhuman features are necessarily just stand-ins for some mundane, real-world concept. Like, yes, clearly The War of the Worlds is about colonialism; but it's also about alien life; it's also about evolution and ecology; and it's also about "Wouldn't it be fucked up if THIS happened!?" And all of these are irreducible from the genre. Is your robot autistic? Well, maybe you can read it that way. Maybe it's a sincere attempt to imagine a nonhuman mechanical intelligence. Maybe it's both. Sometimes, you write a story strictly for "Wouldn't it be fucked-up if..." purposes and it ends up shedding a whole new light on the human condition; in fact, I think that, if you're taking your concept seriously, it should do this by default. But you have to take the bizarre on its own terms or you might as well be reading realism.

[raekensluver]

glasses of desire

description: walking into the office and seeing your boyfriend spencer reid in his glasses for the first time ends in a night you both will never forget.

pairing: boyfriend!spencer reid x fem!!reader

contains: 18+, Minors DNI, unprotected sex, p in v, spencer with his glasses!!, reader and spencer flirting relentlessly, reader is feral.

song rec: 505 by arctic monkeys- "when you look at me like that, my darlin', what did you expect?"

w.c: 4.2k

an: first time writing smut?? thanks to all of the other smut writers' work i have read over the years to help me actually put this into words. this post is my official declaration of my love for spencer's glasses. also, pretend that it isn't always raining in my fics....i just love the rain.

the rain had stopped just as you stepped out of the car, leaving the sidewalks glistening with a fresh coat of water. you took a deep breath, filling your lungs with the sweet, clean scent that always followed a storm. it was a new day, a new chance to prove yourself. the bau building loomed ahead, a stark contrast to the serene quiet of the morning. you had been preparing for this moment for what felt like an eternity, and now it was finally here. the glass doors whispered open, inviting you into the bustling hub of the fbi's most elite team.

your heart raced as you stepped inside, the echo of your heels on the linoleum floor announcing your arrival. the hum of conversation and the click of keyboards grew louder as you approached the open area where the agents' desks were situated. you searched the sea of faces, looking for the one that would make your pulse quicken. and there he was, spencer reid, your boyfriend of a couple of whirlwind months. his eyes were focused on the documents in front of him, his brow furrowed in concentration. the sight of him in his element made your stomach flutter.

but something was different about him today. he was wearing glasses. it wasn't a dramatic change, but it was enough to make your legs feel a bit weaker. you had never seen him with glasses on before, and the intellectual aura they poured only served to amplify his already irresistible charm. you couldn't help the smile that spread across your face as you took in the sight of him, his brown eyes peeking over the black frames, making him look both scholarly and incredibly sexy.

your stride grew more purposeful as you approached his desk, your confidence brimming. you knew that glasses were a simple accessory, but on spencer, they were a declaration of his intelligence. you felt your own heart rate spike as you took in the way they sat on the bridge of his nose, the way they slightly magnified his eyes, making them seem even more intense than usual. it was as if the universe had conspired to make him more attractive just for you.

as you reached him, you leaned over his desk, placing your hands on either side of the keyboard and invading his personal space. "well, if it isn't dr. reid," you teased, your voice a low purr. he looked up, surprised by your sudden proximity, and you noticed the flicker of excitement in his gaze when he saw her. he was used to your flirting, but today it was more intense, more playful. "i see you're dressed to kill," you added, your eyes lingering on the glasses.

spencer blinked a few times, his cheeks flushing slightly. "just trying to see the bad guys more clearly," he quipped, trying to play it cool. but you could tell he was enjoying the attention. you leaned closer, your breath tickling his ear. "they're working for me," you murmured, before straightening up and giving him a wink. the other agents in the room had noticed the exchange, casting curious glances their way, but you didn't seem to care. the tension between you two was palpable, a silent dance of desire that had become a familiar routine.

his eyes followed you as you made your way to your own desk, the glasses perched on the edge of his nose as he watched. the rest of the team greeted you with nods and smiles, but you could feel his gaze like a warm hand on the small of your back. the nonchalance in his posture was a facade, a clever trick he played to hide the excitement bubbling beneath the surface.

once settled in your chair, you couldn't resist glancing over at him every few minutes. the way the light reflected off the lenses, the way they occasionally slipped down his nose only to be pushed back up with the tip of his finger. it was a small gesture, but it was oddly endearing. you felt your resolve to keep things professional wavering, but the thrill of the chase was too tantalizing to resist.

you decided to play it cool, burying yourself in paperwork and pretending not to notice the sly smiles that passed between the other agents. they knew about your relationship, of course, but the sight of you two flirting so openly was still a novelty. it didn't take long before the curiosity got the better of you. you stood up, stretching your legs, and made your way over to the coffee machine. as you poured yourself a cup, you felt his gaze on you. you turned and met his eyes, raising an eyebrow in question.

spencer's cheeks turned a deeper shade of red as he pretended to focus on his work. you knew you had him. the idea of you being attracted to his glasses was clearly flattering him, making him feel more confident than usual. it was a power dynamic you hadn't quite explored in your relationship, but one that seemed to be working in your favor today.

you sat back down at your desk, your eyes occasionally flicking back to him. every time you caught his gaze, he'd look away, only to find it drifting back to you moments later. it was a silent game of cat and mouse, and you were both enjoying the thrill of it. his shyness was adorable, a stark contrast to the fierce intellect that you knew lay behind those spectacles.

you bit your lip, trying to suppress a grin. his shyness was so endearing, it made you want to tease him even more. but you had a job to do, a place to prove yourself. so, you turned your attention to the stack of files that awaited you, but not before shooting him one more sultry glance over your shoulder.

the day passed in a blur of briefings and casework, but every so often, you'd catch spencer stealing glances at you. it was as if the glasses had unlocked a new side of him, one that was more open to your flirtations. every time he did, you'd reward him with a coy smile or a flutter of your eyelashes, keeping the tension simmering.

during a brief lull, you found yourself standing beside him, both of you pouring over a map of the city. "you know," you whispered, your voice a caress against his ear, "i've been thinking about taking you out for dinner tonight. someplace quiet where we can talk about…work."

spencer's hand paused over the map, his eyes widening slightly. "work?" he repeated, his voice a tad too high. you nodded, your smile wicked. "among other things," you added, your finger tracing a line along the edge of the frame. "like how much these glasses are turning me on."

his eyes darted around the room, making sure no one was listening in. "you're terrible," he murmured, but his mouth twitched upwards. "but also, yes. dinner sounds great."

you stepped back, giving him space, but the air between you remained charged. the rest of the day was a delicious dance of anticipation, every shared look and accidental brush of your hands sending a jolt of electricity through your body. you could feel the chemistry building, like a storm brewing on the horizon, ready to unleash its full force.

as the clock ticked closer to the end of your shift, you couldn't wait any longer. you leaned over his desk again, your hand brushing against his arm. "spencer," you said, your voice low and sultry, "i think it's time we called it a day." his eyes snapped to yours, the heat in them unmistakable. "i have a feeling tonight's going to be…enlightening," you added with a wink.

his gaze lingered on your lips before he nodded, standing up. "let's go," he said, his voice a whisper. the two of you gathered your things and made your way out of the bau, the tension between you thick enough to cut with a knife. the rain had returned, lightly misting the windows of the car as you drove to the restaurant. the soft patter against the glass created a cozy atmosphere inside, the perfect backdrop for your date.

dinner was a delicate dance of conversation and flirtation, your eyes never leaving his for long. every bite of food, every sip of wine, felt like a sensual invitation. you found yourself leaning in closer, your knees brushing under the table, as you discussed the intricacies of the latest case. spencer's eyes never left yours, his mind clearly racing with thoughts that had nothing to do with serial killers and crime scenes.

as the evening progressed, the conversation grew more personal. you shared stories from your past, the kind you had been saving for a moment just like this. stories that made him laugh, stories that made him lean in closer, his hand brushing yours as he listened intently. it was as if the glasses had given you a peek into a more vulnerable side of him, one that was eager to connect on a deeper level.

you noticed his eyes lingering on your lips as you spoke, and the urge to kiss him was almost overwhelming. the chemistry between you was palpable, a living, breathing entity that filled the small space of the restaurant booth. the air grew heavier with every shared smile, every meaningful glance.

dinner was delicious, but the real feast was the anticipation that simmered between you. the tension was so intense it was almost tangible, like a third person at the table. every touch, every shared laugh, only added fuel to the fire. by the time dessert arrived, you could hardly stand it anymore.

you leaned in closer, your voice dropping to a whisper. "spencer, can we get out of here?" you asked, your eyes pleading. he nodded, his own eyes dark with desire. the two of you paid the bill and practically sprinted to the car, the rain a gentle serenade to your escalating passion.

once inside, you didn't bother with the small talk. you reached over and cupped his cheek, pulling his face towards yours. your lips met in a fiery kiss, one that spoke of months of pent-up desire and the promise of what was to come. the rain grew heavier outside, the rhythm matching the beating of your hearts.

spencer's hand found the back of your neck, his fingers tangling in your hair as he deepened the kiss. his glasses fogged slightly, but he didn't seem to care. if anything, it only added to the intensity of the moment. you could feel the heat radiating from his body, the way he leaned into you, eager to get closer.

you pulled away, both of you breathless. "we should go," you murmured, your voice thick with need. he nodded, his eyes never leaving yours. the drive to your apartment was a blur of desire, the windshield wipers slapping against the rain in a rhythm that matched the pounding of your heart.

once inside, you didn't waste any time. you led him to the bedroom, the heat between you growing with every step. you took his glasses off, setting them gently on the nightstand. the action was almost ceremonial, as if removing them was the final barrier between you and the passion you had been holding back all day.

his eyes searched yours, questioning and hopeful. you leaned in, your breath hot against his skin. "i've wanted to do this all day," you whispered, your voice barely audible over the sound of the rain. you kissed him again, this time slower, more deliberate. your hands roamed over his body, exploring every inch of him like you were learning him for the first time.

his hands followed suit, gently tracing the curves of your waist and hips, his touch setting your skin on fire. the fabric of your clothes felt like a prison, keeping you from feeling his warmth. you stepped back, breaking the kiss. "i need you," you said, your voice a hoarse whisper. without a word, spencer reached for the zipper at the back of your dress, his trembling hands a testament to his own desire.

the dress fell to the floor in a pool of fabric, revealing the matching lingerie you had chosen with him in mind. his eyes widened, taking in the sight of you. you stepped closer, placing your hands on his chest. "are you sure you're ready for this?" you asked, a playful smile dancing on your lips.

spencer swallowed hard, his eyes never leaving yours. "more than ready," he murmured, his voice a low growl. you reached up and kissed him again, your hands sliding up to his neck, his glasses once again forgotten. the rain outside had turned into a thunderstorm, the rumble of thunder echoing the passion building within the four walls of your apartment.

you led him to the bed, the anticipation in the air so thick it was almost suffocating. the lightning outside cast a strobe-like glow, illuminating your entwined bodies in brief, electric flashes. spencer's hands roamed over your skin, his touch gentle yet firm, as if he was afraid you'd disappear if he didn't hold on tight enough. you moaned into his mouth, the sound lost in the symphony of the storm.

his kisses grew more urgent, his teeth grazing your bottom lip as he pulled you closer. your hands fumbled with the buttons of his shirt, desperate to feel the warmth of his skin against yours. the fabric fell away, revealing the taut muscles that lay beneath, a testament to his dedication to his work and his mind. you traced the lines of his chest with your fingertips, memorizing every inch of him.

his hands found the hooks of your bra, deftly releasing them with the precision of a locksmith. the fabric fell away, revealing your breasts to the cool air of the room. he groaned, his eyes raking over you with a hunger that made you feel like the most beautiful woman in the world. his mouth followed the path of your hands, kissing and nipping as he went.

you slid your own hands down to his belt, the leather whispering against the fabric of his pants as you unbuckled it. your heart raced as you lowered the zipper, his arousal pressing against the material. you pushed the pants down his hips, revealing his boxers, which did little to hide his desire for you. you stepped back, taking in the sight of him.

spencer's eyes never left yours, his chest rising and falling with each ragged breath. the thunder outside seemed to sync with the beating of your hearts, a natural crescendo to the passionate moment unfolding between you. you reached for him, your hands shaking slightly as you slid his boxers down, freeing him. the sight of him made your knees wobble, but you remained steadfast, eager to explore this newfound territory.

his eyes closed for a brief moment, his head falling back as you wrapped your hand around him. his skin was hot and smooth, a testament to the fire burning between you. you began to stroke him gently, feeling him pulse in your hand. he let out a low groan, his hips jerking forward. "you're so beautiful," he murmured, his voice strained with need. you felt a surge of power, knowing that you had this effect on him.

his hands found their way to your hips, his thumbs stroking the sensitive skin just above the band of your panties. you gasped, your eyes fluttering shut as he pulled you closer, your bodies now aligned. the rain outside had become a cacophony, the sound of the drops hitting the windowpane in a frenzied rhythm that only served to heighten the tension in the room.

his mouth traveled down your neck, leaving a trail of kisses that made you shiver. you could feel his breath, hot and moist, against your skin as he moved lower. your hands found his shoulders, gripping tightly as he kissed along your collarbone. the anticipation was almost too much, a sweet torture that had you begging for release.

his fingers found the waistband of your panties, sliding them down your legs with a gentle tug. you stepped out of them, leaving you both fully exposed to each other. the lightning flashed again, casting an eerie glow across the room, highlighting the intensity of the moment. you straddled him, his length pressing against your core. he reached up, cupping your breasts, his thumbs teasing your nipples into hard peaks.

you moaned, the sound mingling with the storm outside. "spencer," you breathed, your eyes searching his for any sign of hesitation. but all you found was a mirror of your own desire. he looked up at you, his expression a mix of awe and lust. "i want you," you whispered, positioning yourself over him.

his eyes never left yours as you slowly lowered yourself onto him, the feel of him filling you up sending waves of pleasure through your body. you gasped as he entered you, the sensation of being so completely connected to him making you feel alive in a way you hadn't in months. the thunder rumbled in the distance, the sound muffled by the pounding of your hearts.

his hands found your hips, guiding you as you began to move. the rhythm was slow at first, a gentle rocking that grew more urgent with every stroke. the lightning outside painted your bodies in stark relief, the shadows playing across your skin like a lover's caress. you leaned forward, your breasts brushing against his chest as you kissed him, your tongues dancing together.

spencer's breath hitched as you picked up the pace, his grip tightening on your hips. the storm outside was a cacophony of sound, the thunder a bass line to the symphony of your passion. the rain pounded against the windows, each drop a drumbeat that matched the rhythm of your bodies. your moans grew louder, mingling with the sounds of the tempest.

his thumbs found your clit, teasing it in a way that made your eyes roll back in your head. the pleasure was almost too much to bear, a sweet agony that had you gasping for breath. you leaned into the sensation, your hips grinding against his hand as he stroked you in time with your movements. the room was a whirlwind of sensation, the smell of rain and desire heavy in the air.

the storm outside seemed to crescendo with your passion, the thunder a thunderous applause to the intimate show unfolding between you. your nails dug into his shoulders as you felt yourself getting closer to the edge, your body tightening around him. "spencer," you moaned, his name a prayer on your lips.

his eyes remained locked on yours, the intensity of his gaze sending shivers down your spine. "i'm right here," he assured you, his voice a gentle rumble that seemed to resonate in every part of your being. you leaned down, capturing his mouth in a kiss that was both fierce and tender. the lightning flashed, casting a strobe effect over your intertwined bodies, a visual representation of the electricity that crackled between you.

his hands moved to your waist, helping to guide your movements as you rode him. every thrust sent bolts of pleasure shooting through your body, making it harder to hold back the orgasm that was building within you. the rain was a soothing lullaby, the perfect backdrop to the symphony of passion playing out in the bedroom.

you felt your climax approaching, the tension in your body coiling tighter with each stroke. your breathing grew ragged, matching the erratic beat of the storm outside. spencer's eyes never left yours, the love and desire in them making you feel seen in a way you hadn't felt in a long time. "i'm going to come," you warned him, your voice a breathless whisper.

his own eyes darkened with lust as he nodded, his hips pushing up to meet your movements. "me too," he managed to say, his voice strained. you could feel him swell inside of you, his arms tensing as he approached his peak.

you leaned back, bracing yourself on his chest, watching the play of emotions across his face. the way his eyes squeezed shut and his jaw clenched, the way his breath caught in his throat. it was a sight you would never grow tired of, one that fueled your own desire. your hips moved faster, chasing the release that was so close you could almost taste it.

spencer's hands slid up your body, his fingers digging into your skin as he felt himself get closer. "yes," he breathed, his voice a harsh whisper. "yes, like that." you bit your lip, the sensation of his body beneath yours, his every response to your touch, pushing you closer to the precipice.

you leaned back in, your breasts brushing against his chest, the sensation sending sparks through your body. "spencer," you moaned, his name a prayer on your lips. "i'm…i'm almost there." his eyes snapped open, the intensity in them making your heart race. "me too," he said, his voice strained.

his hips bucked upwards, meeting your own movements with an urgency that told you he was close as well. the storm outside seemed to peak with your passion, the thunder a crescendo to the symphony of moans and gasps filling the room. the lightning flashed, painting your sweat-slicked bodies in stark contrasts of light and shadow.

his thumbs circled your clit, the pressure building until you couldn't hold back anymore. you threw your head back, crying out his name as the orgasm crashed over you. the world around you faded to white-hot pleasure, your body trembling uncontrollably as wave after wave of ecstasy washed over you. spencer's own release followed quickly, his body tensing beneath you as he came with a shout that was lost in the cacophony of the storm.

you collapsed onto him, both of you panting and spent. the rain continued to fall outside, the sound a gentle reminder of the tumultuous passion that had just taken place. your heart hammered in your chest, the aftershocks of pleasure still pulsing through your body.

spencer wrapped his arms around you, holding you tightly as if afraid to let you go. "wow," he murmured, his voice filled with wonder. "that was…" but he trailed off, unable to find the words. you giggled, pressing a kiss to his neck. "yeah," you agreed, your voice muffled against his skin. "that was something."

you lay there for a few moments, listening to the storm outside and the steady beat of his heart beneath you. the warmth of his body was a comfort, a stark contrast to the coolness of the rain-soaked world beyond the windows. the room was bathed in the soft glow of the bedside lamp, casting a warm, intimate light over the two of you.

you pulled back slightly, looking into his eyes. they were still glazed with passion, but a hint of uncertainty had crept in. "are you okay?" you asked, stroking his cheek. he nodded, a small smile playing on his lips. "more than okay," he replied, his voice still a little hoarse from your earlier passion. "i just…i didn't expect it to be like that."

you leaned down to kiss him softly, tasting the salt on his skin. "neither did i," you admitted. "but i wouldn't change a single second of it." spencer's arms tightened around you, his thumbs tracing lazy circles on your back. "me neither," he murmured. the storm outside had begun to die down, the rain now a gentle patter against the windows.

the moment was peaceful, a stark contrast to the passion that had just consumed you both. you felt a sense of belonging, of rightness, that you hadn't felt in a long time. it was as if the universe had conspired to bring you to this exact moment, with him.

spencer brushed a strand of hair from your face, his touch tender and loving. "i love you," he said, his voice raw with emotion. you looked up at him, your eyes shining with unshed tears. "i love you too," you whispered back, the words feeling both inadequate and incredibly powerful.

his lips found yours again, the kiss gentle and reassuring. it was as if he was promising to be there, no matter what the future held for you both. the storm outside had become a gentle lullaby, the rain a comforting white noise that washed away the tension of the day.

you pulled away slightly, a smile playing on your lips. "you know," you began, your voice still a little shaky from the aftermath of your passion, "i think i'm going to enjoy seeing you in glasses a lot more often." spencer chuckled, a warm sound that rumbled through his chest. "i'll keep that in mind," he said, his eyes sparkling with mischief.

his fingers traced the curve of your hip, his touch feather-light and reverent. the room was still, the storm outside a distant memory. you could feel the warmth of his body, the steady beat of his heart beneath you. "i've never felt like this before," he admitted, his voice a soft whisper. "me neither," you said, your heart swelling with love for this complex, brilliant man.

you pulled the covers over you both, snuggling closer into his embrace. the bed was a cocoon of warmth and comfort, the perfect sanctuary from the chaos of the world outside. his hand found yours, his fingers lacing through yours in a silent promise. you closed your eyes, feeling more content than you had in a long time.

[redflagshipwriter]

ANOTHER UNDEAD FENTON

Inspiration came from this post by @stars-obsession-pit !

Word count: 1479

Masterpost of Archive Down Fics here.

(I wrote three dp x dc fics based off of prompts I've seen in the last day for reading while the site is getting maintenance. )

There was a high, shrill scream in the Fenton lab.

Maddie bolted for the stairs, abandoning her coffee without a thought. She flung herself down to see Jack bent over a body in front of the portal.

“Is this person a threat?” Maddie prepared to defend her husband, but the body didn't move.

Jack looked up at her. “No, I was just surprised! I think he's hurt, Mads.”

Her bleeding heart husband. She crossed the room and rolled their intruder over to see it was a kid, maybe Danny's age. In his sleep, he had a sweet, soft face. His face and throat were covered in faint scars.

Well. That was one of hers, now. No getting around it. That was a teenage boy on her floor who has obviously been the victim of violence.

“Well, shit,” Maddie said companionably. She blew out air between her teeth. “Dear, would you put clean sheets on in Jazz's room?”

They were running out of space, between the clones and the past evil alternate future children.

Jack saluted her, shouted an affirmation , and bounded away.

Maddie took a moment to wonder if her children would be an infinitely expanding collection and if so, if it would be better to move into Vlad's castle than to build the home addition they had planned for.

She gathered the teenager up in her arms despite him being her size, and laid him out on an exam table. She started checking his vitals.

A hand shot out and grabbed her by the wrist.

“Good morning, sweetheart,” Maddie said. She redirected her hand to smooth hair behind his ear. He blearily followed the movement, just as obviously intelligent as he was obviously compromised. She didn't know if it was a concussion or drugs or what, but this boy was not well. “It's Friday June 29th, and you're in Amity Park, Illinois. I'm Madeleine Fenton and you're at my house because you fell through a portal. Is there someone I should call for you?”

He stared at her. She could see the moment he decided not to speak to her.

That situation didn't change much all day. The kid walked himself up to bed and peered around at Jazz's old posters. He seemed to want to be alone, but Maddie caught him watching Dani and Dan playing catch in the yard. She made eye contact with him over her book and then looked back at her shrieking kids. Dan was doing flips on the trampoline and launching his sister in the air, catching and tossing her back up in the nick of time between flips.

Their new boy closed his curtains.

“I was thinking about Dante,” Jack said, bringing out a pitcher of iced tea. “Or, how about Jasper! Eh? Eh? You know, like Jazz-per?” Jack belly laughed.

“He probably has his own name,” Maddie said calmly. She'd estimated him at 16 or so, anyway. But whatever. If he wasn't going to give them a name, they did eventually need something to call him. And they needed to sort out accommodation fast, before Jazz got back from her college tour trip.

“Let's go with Jasper until he gives us his real name.” There were enough Ds in her home, honestly.

She lured Jasper out of his room for lunch. He sat at the kitchen table and watched them all warily. He only ate what they ate.

Danny arrived mid-meal. “Mom! Dad!” There was a whumpf as he probably threw himself onto the sofa. “We wanna go to Elmerton, that ok?”

“You should take your brother with you,” Maddie called back. “He needs clothes.”

“What?” Danny clearly pried himself up and came into the kitchen. Maddie silently offered to make him a plate. “No, I ate at Tuck's. Dan, what'd you do to your clothes?”

“Nothing, you pathetic worm,” said Dan, who really was a sensitive boy. “I am not the topic of discussion, you blithering fool.” He jerked a finger at Jasper. “New one.”

Danny stared.

Jasper looked uncomfortable. He gave a sort of hello nod.

“He's, uh, he's not-”

“Not a clone or alternate future version of you, nope,” Maddie agreed. “Though he did come out of the portal. We wondered if he might be a ghost, but it didn't seem necessary to ask.”

Jasper full body flinched at the word “ghost”, but he looked confused.

Danny squinted at his new bother who, it must be said, did look a bit like a Fenton already. “Not a ghost,” he said after a long pause. “But a little undead. Not sure what kind. But yeah, you're walking dead, buddy.” He clapped Jasper on the shoulder.

“You'll fit right in!” Jack cheered. “Dan is half dead! So is Danno! And so is Dani here! And-”

“Thank you, Jack,” Maddie cut him off. “It might be a sensitive subject, don't you think?”

“Nah,” said Danny, stealing food out of the pan despite saying he wasn't hungry. “We aren't that sensitive. Like-” he looked at Jasper and explained: “I got electrocuted to death in the lab two years ago. Dan is from an alternate future where everyone he loved died, so then he killed everyone else on earth. And Dani is a science experiment baby.”

“It's true,” Dani said solemnly. “I'm a work of science.”

“You make me sound so uncool,” Dan complained, stabbing at his spaghetti.

Jasper laughed for the first time. He himself seemed surprised by the sound. It was hoarse but there was promise there.

When the boys were off at the mall in Elmerton with Sam and Tucker, Maddie called up Vlad.

“You want to come here?”

“I’ve got more kids than I have rooms in my house,” she said wryly. “So if the offer is still open…”

“Yes, of course it is,” he assured her. “But- most of the little ones are still in the Ghost Zone, correct?”

“They're not big enough to leave yet,” Maddie agreed. “Which is why I need to be near a portal.” The ghostlings were staying with the LunchLady and Box Ghost, but they needed to be able to be in touch. “But no, I've got another one.”

Glass shattered in the background. “Another- what happened to Daniel this time?”

Maddie laughed at how flustered her old college friend got. “Nothing to do with Danny, actually, this one fell out of the portal. He's some level of partly dead, but we don't think he's a ghost at all.”

Left unsaid was that they needed to do a lot of research to figure out what other possibilities there were. If they could get into contact with Danny's GP, he might be able to get them on the right track.

“Well.” Vlad took a moment to rally. “When will the family be arriving?”

Two months later, all the kids were pretty settled in.

Jasper had never shared a name, but he was happy to let them call him Jay. He was a phenomenal big brother to Dani. He wrestled with Dan. He bullied Danny into doing his homework. It had been something of an administrative nightmare to get Jaspen enrolled in school, but Vlad had pulled off whatever magic trick he'd done for Dani (applied a lot of money to the problem, Maddie supposed) and Jay had settled in very well.

“Your debut in society,” Maddie hummed, making a point of straightening Jay’s tie. He was growing already, she was sure of it! He was going to wind up as tall as Jack.

“I've been to parties before, Mom,” Jay drawled, and then flushed a dark red that meant he didn't want to be asked questions. Maddie tweaked his nose instead of answering.

“But this is the first one where Vlad's introducing you to his business friends!” She said, already dressed up for a fun night. Vlad had flown them all in on his private jet for the day.

“Queen is a family man as well,” Vlad had said the night before, aiming for calculating and coming off soft. “It will put him off his guard or perhaps make him sick with envy that I have brought a higher quality child than he could ever manage to produce.”

They arrived together, Maddie on Jack's arm, keeping her flock of kids within eyesight as Vlad led the pack. She had a perfect view of Oliver Queen seeing them arrive, the smile dropping off his face, and him choking on his drink. He did look very silly, Maddie had to admit.

“Inept,” Vlad hissed, very pleased. “The fool can't even drink. His company will be mine-” he looked at Danny for some reason. Vlad faltered at whatever be saw. “....Through legitimate business practices, such as buying a majority of stocks,” Vlad weakly finished.

Maddie slapped him on the back. “Go get him, tiger.”

[moonfireshadow]

Rewatched Saltburn and I'm obsessed with Farleigh and Oliver's tutoring scene. The essay specifically. For those who don't remember: Oliver did his homework and all his assignments and genuinely gave a well thought out essay for their summer assignments. Farleigh shows up hungover and late and didn't even read the books. But the teacher immediately loves Farleigh and is chatting him up with an interest he barely tried to show Oliver. Even after Oliver gives his presentation and shows that he's clearly a much better student than Farleigh. Obviously this is the real start of their rivalry. But it's also such a beautiful look into their characters and how they mirror eachother. Farleigh understands Oliver's essay, I believe. But like the teacher he's bored by it. The knowledge and work is there, but the presentation of it is boring and strange. Academic and correct, but lacking the appeal to the audience. (Which, can we talk about the fact Farleigh was genuinely listening at all? The teacher zoned out and switched channels, but Farleigh was interested and paying enough attention to know the exact number of times Oliver used the word "thus" in his essay. They respect each other truly even if they despise eachother at this point, and refuse to acknowledge the grudging respect.) So Farleigh does what he does best, he gloats over Oliver. He picks apart the style of the essay and it's presentation rather than addressing the central argument or topic. This delights the teacher and frustrates Oliver who is like, "so you're going to critique the style of my essay rather than it's substance? Seems a bit lazy" and that's the core component of these two characters.

Farleigh is ALL about presentation. He knows how fragile his pedistal is placed up and in view for everyone to see. He's a charity project, just like every other rando of the month. Sure he has some familiar connection, and that's given him a leg up in this world. But it's still shakey at best. He always has to give the correct performance, say the right words, keep his audience on HIS side. Unless he wants to get knocked down with the rest of the common rabal that he knows he's belongs with, but can't stand the idea of. So yes, of course he picks apart the one thing he knows Oliver is failing at. He takes his one advantage over Oliver and uses it mercilessly to both entertain and secure his audience on his side. (I wonder if the positions had been different some how, if Farleigh would have had anything to say about the substance of the essay itself. He was paying attention to it, did he want to have a real academic conversation? Did he possibly want to try and connect to Oliver in that way? A real and non performative way with someone who's so similar to him?)

As for Oliver, obviously his character is intelligent. He does the readings. He does the research. He puts the time and effort in to *learn* in the way Farleigh never does. And it must infuriate him that his essay is so easily pushed to the side for a cheep critique that doesn't even address the central argument of his essay. Of course he would hate Farleigh from the start for that. It's such a quick negation of all that Oliver has to offer and give just because it's not wrapped up in a pretty bow. And that's just his character. The substance is there, the intelligence is there. But it's not enough. It will never be enough. Because Oliver doesn't know how to translate it to his audience in a way they'll care about. He learns and tries to mimic, but it always falls short because he just can't seem to figure out the way to blend in and present himself so seamlessly as Farleigh.

And that's why they're such perfect mirrors of each other. They're both intelligent and clever. But they've found different ways of getting what they want and proving themselves. Farleigh is the face and the presentation, Oliver is the substance and body. In another world imagine what these two could have done and been if they hadn't been pitted against each other for the same prize. And the fact Oliver definitely deliberately shoved Farleigh out at the perfect time so he wouldn't get hurt and killed? Oliver and Farleigh respect and admire the other. But their tragedy is they can never be on the same page or team because the world they're in says there is only room for one. And they'd both do anything to get that title.

[idiotmf]

Moving into a house infested by shadow demons

I may have this recent obsession with my newest creation for random blurbs I write, but... hear me out while I dump random information on you that you didn't ask for... (also NSFW, minors scram)

Shadow demons are beings made of, well, shadows. They can hide in yours or manifest as anything they want, shape-shifters if you will.

Since they are beings made of shadows, they cannot catch light, therefore they are a little hard to make out, often appearing more as a silhouette but they do have very distinctive, glowing eyes.

Very original, I know.

Now... They infest houses, apartments or just general areas. They're typically regarded as low level demons, as they are bound to the area they infest, feeding off of human emotions; specifically strong emotions like fear, hopelessness and, most importantly, lust.

I currently have two shadow demons that I adore writing about and they are... Well, I feel like they would hate each other.

× Aryllus

Aryllus is a sweetheart. He isn't interested in feeding off of emotions. He finds life fascinating, he loves spending his endless time reading, observing the animals and humans outside this old brick cottage that he can't leave.

He's very blunt and emotionally not the most intelligent but he makes up for it with his academic intellect. He's been trapped here for a century, maybe two. He doesn't know. Time is of no concept to demons, after all.

He's also shy at first. He doesn't want to be discovered by humans. He dislikes being treated like a pest or an inconvenience, so he would rather starve for all eternity than be viewed as a monster.

When you do discover him, and you don't seem afraid of him, he rejoices. He's patient and gentle in every interaction, thinking he has no morals as a demon but very clearly being a kind entity.

But... be careful, even if a shadow demon's primary food is emotions, Aryllus will probably steal your sandwich. And then try to eat the plastic it came in. (-_-')

And then there is...

× Oryllion

Oryllion is heartless, manipulative and possessive. His only interest lies in breaking the inhabitants of his infested house, making them his mindless little toys for his insatiable hunger.

His preferred method is keeping you in a constant state of arousal by any means necessary. You're working on something? Too bad, he's eating you out/ sucking you off under the table. You want to leave? No, he's tying you up with his tendrils and attaching little suckers to your nipples until you scream in agony and pleasure.

He's dominant and degrading, never once uttering your name. You're merely his pet or his toy. His eyes, while nothing more than glowing white orbs, show disgust with you. Even while he shapes his body into the most incomprehensible shape, writhing with obscene appendages and a sheer endless amount of limbs just to force you to orgasm for his next feast, he clearly looks down on you. Humiliation is a part of the fun for him.

But... As much as he wishes, even Oryllion can't fuck everyone into submission. Occasionally, families will move into his domain, much to his dismay.

But hey, at least he gets to traumatize children with his SFW Eldritch horror shapes for a quick snack.

[luveline]

could i request teacher!reader with hotch? like maybe she’s jacks teacher

thank you for your request! fem!reader, 1.2k

You're a teacher: you're always tired. Overworked, underpaid, everybody knows how it goes. And maybe you've let yourself go because you don't have any real material hopes for the future beyond getting Macy Danish to read at a first grade level, but how were you supposed to know that Jack Hotchner's father would be so overwhelmingly attractive? It's not fair. 

He's handsome though older than you'd been expecting, but that isn't the cut and dry of it. When he comes in, it's alone, in a well-fitted suit. He's tall and remarkably dark-eyed, shaking your hand without trying to impose any authority, as some of the fathers tend to do, and when you call him Mr. Hotchner, he says, "Aaron, please," but continues to call you Ms. L/N.

"Aaron," you say, pulling your skirt under your thighs as you sit down. You're dressed in nice clothes for the parent-teacher conferences, but you could've covered your sleeplessness better. "Jack is the nicest boy in class. He's actually my loveliest kid. Um…" You search through your notes for the preliminary assessment of Jack. "Sorry, two seconds." 

"Take your time. I know what it's like to dig through a mountain of paperwork every day." 

"Jack mentioned you work in the government, he calls you a special agent," you say, smiling. "You get the bad guys." 

"I am a special agent. Supervisory." Aaron is conscientious enough to pretend he doesn't notice your surprise. "I'm chief of the behavioural analysis unit." 

You can't even begin to guess what that entails. "Oh," you say breathlessly. 

"I understand that it sounds fantastical." 

"It sounds impressive," you say, floundering to correct yourself. Behavioural analysis? It must be obvious to him how nervous he's making you, then, and when you realise that, you get worse. "I'm so sorry about this. I should be more organised. I usually am." 

"That's alright. Take your time." 

Does he always speak that way? His voice is like fucking silk? Is he messing with you?

You yank the notes you made for Jack from the pile and flatten them across the desk. "Okay, sorry. Like I was saying, Jack is really the nicest kid, him and his friend Molly. They're both lovely, and teachers shouldn't have favourites, please don't tell the other parents, but they're my favourites." You smile at him quickly and return your eyes to the paper. The words swim in front of your eyes. "Jack can read better than you could ever hope for a first grader, he's immensely intelligent for his age group. He's patient. He'll explain anything to anyone if they ask him too, and he does it well." 

"I'm glad to hear that," he says, again so softly. 

You pick up one of your skinny biros to have something to fidget with. He's a very good looking man, but you're a good teacher. You can focus on what to say. Some parents need good things only. Some need reassurement that they're doing a good job. Aaron is harder to read, but you know what he needs, too. 

"He can be lonely," you say, looking him in the eye. "I don't think that that's down to any fault. I'm sure you know better than I do why he might feel that way." You know about his mom's passing over a year ago. You've seen grief in children too many times. "He… I understand if this isn't okay with you, but he eats lunch with me sometimes. I encourage him to sit with his peers, of course, but I think he runs out of energy pretty quickly." 

Aaron nods thoughtfully. His brows quirk into a furrow that you're afraid is directed at you. 

"I don't think he necessarily has trouble connecting with his friends." 

"What do you think?" 

"I think something awful happened to your family, and Jack will feel it for the rest of his life, but that it won't stop him from being great. It already isn't. And… he clearly has a father who loves him and who he admires. You're his second favourite topic." 

"What's his first?" he asks. 

"He's really into Fruity Fridays," you say with a laugh. "I bring in fruits you don't get often in America. Someone would've had to sign a form." 

"No, I remember signing it. He likes that?" His smile is golden. "I can't get him to try new things." 

"He had all the leftover gold kiwi last week." You rub your lips together. Time is ticking. You have nearly thirty parents to see tonight, but talking to Mr. Hotchner has been so normal. He's a regular person in a sea of inattentive helicopter narcissists. It's a relief and a half to meet him and know a kid as gentle as Jack is in good hands. "Mr. Hotchner, I have to tell you, I'm really relieved to meet you." 

"Aaron," he corrects.

Your tone drops too low. "Aaron." 

"I'm more than relieved," he says. "I knew that this year would be harder for him. I didn't know… I'm grateful to you, for being so kind with him." 

You look down at your notes, flushed from head to toe despite your airy skirt. Crossing your legs, you shake your head. "It's my job." 

"To let him take up the only break you get all day?" he asks. 

"It's not like that. Jack doesn't bother me." You fold your notes in half. "I can see his role model measures up." 

"I could say the same thing." 

The next time you see Jack, bright and early Monday mooring shepherded by his aunt Jessica, he's very happy to see you. You offer him a hug and pat his back when he wraps his arms around your hips. "Hello, Jack. Was your dad pleased with your drawings?"

Jack smiles at you. "I have a note for you." 

"You do? Can I see? Where is it, honey?" 

Jack takes off his backpack and pulls out the note and a tupperware container. "Oh, wow, did you make treats for the class? Jack, that's so nice!" 

"No. Dad said those are for you. He said you should have nice for nice, or something," Jack informs you. 

"You'll share with me, though? I can't eat them all by myself," you whisper. 

He nods with enthusiasm and runs off to put his backpack in his cubby and his coat on the hook. You look down at the cookies and note, which is actually an envelope. 

You open it with your thumbnail. The writing is Aaron's usual tight cursive.

Dear Miss L/N, 

I hoped to thank you again in person, but work makes that hard. I appreciate everything you do for Jack. There are teachers who work, and there are teachers who go above and beyond. I can feel confident anywhere in the country knowing Jack is being taught by the latter. 

Gratefully yours, 

Aaron Hotchner. 

P.S. Please don't feed Jack too many cookies. They're not for him. 

You keep the letter even if it's lame to do so. When is the next parent teacher conference, anyways?

[ivystoryweaver]

Your Father's Rival!Leto Atreides x F!virgin!reader

NSFW MDNI. Reader is of age, obviously! AU in the sense that there is no mention of Lady Jessica or Paul Atreides. Also, Leto may be OOC here. Not beta'd. More content/warnings below the cut. 1.3k words

content: seduction, nipple play, allusions to oral - f. rec., allusions to fingering, p in v, unprotected sex, creampie, breeding kink, duplicitous behavior, but everything is consensual

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Your father's rival!Leto Atreides

...who invites your family to Caladan for "peace talks", but secretly hatches his plan

Rival!Leto, who welcomes your begrudging father, throwing a magnificent ball in your family's honor

whose gaze lingers on you - your father's only heir, nearly twenty years younger than Leto himself...

and conveniently unmarried.

Rival!Leto, who requests the honor of a first dance with you. His dark eyes devour yours as his gloved hands pull you a little closer than is formal.

whose stern countenance dissolves when eyes crinkle as he grants you a brilliant smile

whose smooth, tenor voice tickles your ear as he compliments your dancing, subtly hinting at how your body moves in perfect time with his

whose gaze lingers on your lips before dipping down to the low scooped neck of your gown

Rival!Leto, who lets everyone know to treat your family like royalty - to be sure you don't miss a single dance, so that you will eventually need to step outside for some air...

who conveniently stumbles upon you under the stars, in the lush gardens of Castle Caladan and manages to remark how you are more beautiful, if possible, bathed in moonglow

Rival!Leto, who notices your breath hitch when he nears, who asks permission to escort you on a tour of the garden, granting him the opportunity to take you by the arm.

who finds you delightful, really: intelligent - well-read and opinionated. Sparkling conversation distracts him, for a brief while, from his primary goal.

Rival!Leto, who plans to seduce you, and breed you.

You're young and beautiful, and a virgin - the cherished prize of his one and only rival.

Rival!Leto, who will snatch his enemy’s most precious possession from his grasp - to steal your youth, your body and above all, your love.

Not to harm you. In fact, he's already growing quite fond of you.

Rival!Leto, who bids you goodnight, as an upstanding Duke would do, who keeps your honor in tact, while his plan begins to unfold.

who notices you stealing glances across the breakfast table, smiling to himself at the impression he's clearly already made.

who finds you again in the gardens later that evening - who walks and talks with you, luring you into a comforting trust...but doesn't realize he is being lured as well.

Rival!Leto, who carries on for days, so innocently, that he's almost forgotten the duplicity of his original plan...

who finds himself meaning it when he folds you into his arms and kisses you breathless underneath the stars, his body responding with fervor as you wind your fingers through his thick curls and tug him closer to you.

who lures you the next night, and the next, until your walks in the garden turn into the collision of your mouths, the tangle of tongues, the sharing of breath, kissing and panting and touching, bolder each evening.

unlacing the front of your dress while kissing you deeply before trailing his lips down your throat, fingers brushing your collarbone.

stepping over the line of propriety, cupping your breast in his palm, stoking a fire of lust inside you. His lips caress the curve of your mound as hot breath fans across your stiff peaks.

Your father's rival, who takes your nipple into his mouth and gently sucks, pulling a breathy moan from your throat...

who greedily sucks and fondles away your innocence, his cock stirring and twitching at the sounds of your evident desire.

Rival!Leto, who has you half naked in the garden - a scandal just waiting to be uncovered - but the sound of his name on your lips won't allow him to slow, or stop.

who tells you that he's never seen anything more beautiful in all the known universe, and asks you to come to his bed tonight.

Your father's rival, who assures you his staff is discreet, and your secret is safe...

who thrills as you enter his bedchamber in the dark of night, very obviously bathed and perfumed to please him

who unleashes his fervent desire now that you are alone, unlacing your gown - his strong fingers laying claim to your soft flesh as his hungry mouth seeks out yours.

Your father's rival, who draws previously unknown desires from the core of you, making you bloom with raw want and drip with lust, soaking his beard

whose lips bring you to heaven itself as he sucks and fingers away your innocence, coaxing you into womanhood with delicious gasps and moans and sweet little begs that make him hard and ready to take your body completely

who slips inside the wet core of you, hissing as you snugly fit and grip his cock, whimpers and sighs of how full you feel tickling his ear.

His name on your lips as he starts to move - as the sting of intrusion eases into a fullness and completeness unlike anything you could have imagined.

Your father's treasure, naked and panting and scandalously writhing beneath his bitter rival, filled with his thick length, giving your maidenhood away to the enemy - to a man who has promised you nothing

Rival!Leto who presses his strong hand to your abdomen, murmuring your name. "Let me fill you up, dove. You can have a piece of me I've given no woman before this night."

"Yes, Leto," you repeat over and over. "Fill me...I'm yours."

Your father's rival, who intends to fill your belly with his heir, and now realizes, as your thighs fall apart - with each deep thrust - how quickly and how hard he comes inside you. How he fell apart so easily in the soft heat of your body. How he relishes this task he’s taken upon himself, almost feeling as if he is corrupting you.

who holds you close to his chest, like he owns you, your bodies still joined, kissing you possessively

Who can't seem to usher you back to your rooms, even to keep your scandalous secret. Who gently wipes you clean and folds you against his naked, sated body, assuring you to give into your exhaustion and rest - feeling a secret thrill that he’s winning your trust, as you sleep soundly

Who wakes to your beautiful face in dawn's light, stares into your eyes and kisses you deeply, certain you are falling in love with him

He swallows hard, realizing…something is happening to him.

Rival!Leto who finds his thoughts on you constantly throughout the day, who can't keep his eyes from devouring you when you enter a room.

Who desperately seeks a moment alone with you, to beckon you back to his bed. "I must have you again," he murmurs against your cheek in a darkened alcove.

He gathers you into his arms when you come to him that night and takes you to bed.

And the next night, and the next. Each night, telling you how he wants to fill you - his body climaxing at your eager acceptance

Who fucks you slow and deep one night, hand on your belly, hard and ready to burst as you beg him to fill you up - who finally utters his plan aloud. "I want you to carry my heir. I want my child to grow inside you."

You assume this is practically a marriage proposal. "Oh Leto..." you coo, coming apart in his arms. "I would love to be your wife."

He should tell you the truth. That he planned to breed you. To trap you on Caladan, to win your heart, and take your father's only treasure away from him.

But he sees an out - he can simply propose and all will be well

Rival!Leto, who didn't plan to actually fall in love with you

Who realizes, he's trapped himself. He loves you too much to lie anymore. So he confesses.

You don't seem upset with him, or even shocked. You simply kiss him deeply, coaxing him to hardness before joining your body with his once more.

Your father's rival, who has fallen in love with you, who wants to marry you, who will share children with you.

Your mission is accomplished. Your father will be proud.

And it cost you nothing. Because you accidentally fell in love with him too

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Miscellaneous Characters Masterlist

Main Masterlist

[recitedemise]

Gale can't explain it. All his life, he's known the feeling, however, of being some vase on a pedestal in some upper-class auction. He's endured appraisals of all sorts, discerned for his quality with but a critical glance. That said, their considering gaze is not some weight that's foreign, but the nature of their study and the smile on their face-- Somehow, he feels less like an artefact and more like a meal. Again, danger chills his spine, a crack-crack sparkle all a tickle of lightning. He's aware of their study, sharp and dagger-like as it traces his veins, and he knows in his gut that they realize he's different. His tongue so usually loose feels utterly tied.

Still, people aren't so honest with their wanting conclusions. Evidently, the horrors of the Underdark must have picked at their manners. Old and lame where they're spry and daunting... Calmly, Gale adopts a knitted brow and a very polite grin. "I'll be sure to keep that in mind," he manages, pride a little bit wounded. "That said, if ever I meet such a straggler, they will be warned at once. It's reassuring to know that friends would walk among us even this far down. Serendipity certainly works in mysterious ways."

Is that so? This friend's sharpened fang does not escape him.

Funny. As dangerous as they seem, their smart-mouthed wizard yet boasts his daring. It adds a charm, he at least hopes, to be met with some spirit where gloom so persists. In a way, they're stuck in a game of a viper and a mouse where the mouse in question carries the threat of the plague. Excitement. They continue studying books as Gale waits for the strike. "From the sounds of it, I've about as much love for messes as you do," he begins. "Though from what I gather, you're not exactly lacking in your share of them. If you're aware of Sovereign Glut, then you're doubtlessly in knowledge of the Myconid's predicaments. My journeying here today is toward the relieving of those predicaments in question. On top of our matter with Glut, I've come for Nere."

Yes. Of course, he, too, has come to cure his myriad of ailments, but be it in writhing tadpole or flesh-eating orb, that's not yet a truth that Gale will give. Regardless, it certainly doesn't stop them from endeavoring to learn it. With a thundering clatter, their journal clamors shut. The window they play with giggles brightly like their eyes. Again, a cold wash of terror pricks his skin.

Gale feels terribly stripped of his robes and every pretense. Eyes widening, the wizard's hold on his staff momentarily falters. "I—" Weakly, the flutter of his heartbeat goes ice-cold. He doesn't know how to answer, all a mouse once more within the squeeze of a snake. He can laugh it off, he supposes, and comically offer 'aren't we all,' but somehow, that doesn't fit the script that they're fashioning together. Besides, they are far too smarty to fall for it. Left with no choice, Gale knows his silence would prove too telling. He closes his mouth, the sussur bloom playing with the purple in his blood. He glows just a twinge, parts amethyst and tourmaline and lavender jade. Ironically, he fits so beautifully in this hell with its gemstones, and perhaps that's all the reason how they knew so readily. Gale's like home. And they, a resident, would know death anywhere. "Conversation must seem rather redundant to you. Clearly," Gale hedges, "having lived in the Underdark, there isn't a manner of shadow you can't see through. It must strike you as exhausting being made to sift through my engaging monologues, but as I wrest with your customs, I ask only for your patience. Revealing to you my soul with rapport is more my currency."

He is dying. He hates to say it, but it's clear that he is. To think that his greatest, foulest truth has been read with a glance... Hasten yourselves. His party -- when will you return?

"Had I my way about it, I'd be perfectly content never crossing paths with your 'friends' again. Believe me, while I hardly mean any offense, I don't take pleasure tarrying here longer than I have to." His mouth thins. "You say you enjoy your puzzles. As it turns out, so do I. To study Gale of Waterdeep is to allow him to study you, and I must warn you: I am thorough."

the death rattle of all manner of beasts keened at their ears in the interim; a catalogue they sift through in the lull of their own personable silence. something thorny, spindly, like spider's limbs probing. it was a curious descent of purple coiling down the apple of his cheek that plunged elegantly down. they knew death and the dying well, for their catalogue included the shuddering breath of men, too. a touch of fatigue at the eyes and the light flex of fingers. . . something was terribly wrong with the man that sat before them just on the fringe of where the faint glow of sussur illuminated their hand and arm. traipsing between the blue and vanta-black there was a flicker of eyeshine about their vague bipedal shape. the dream of something stalking one to the grave.

and just like so it ebbed away again. personable. such was the demeanor of an apeth; the tapestries of the dark draped about them like silk. there was the gleam of a lop-sided smile to precede them, a charming snaggle-tooth of a single too-long-incisor. "you know. there's something to be said about the straggler of a pack. old, lame, sick. i'd be careful here." the petal fell away from their calloused fingertips, both arms set at a cross behind them as they half-turned away, to waltz comfortably toward another set of shelves for passing inspection.

"sovereign glut. i knew it's circle too. since i was knee-high." a dusty old tome pulled from the upper most with a rock of their boots from heel to toe. mismatched eyes peered down as they dusted it's cover. "there are duergar parasites, kicking up a fuss, making a mess of things." they licked their bare thumb. the crisp sound of pages turning followed along the whisper of their boots gliding over stone. an apex waltz in and out of his direct field of vision.

they melted away; the creak of leather bounding at the left. they stood adjacent the wizard at a distance, lips pursed with vague interest at the column of the book they'd snatched. "mm. figure i could drop by the emporium in the city if i get a real taste for readin' what's worth readin'." snap! the book shut, set aside so that the gilded claws of their gauntlet could tap against glass pane. skittering about like centipede's legs. "haha. hey, you're pretty funny." a brow lofted up, tugging at the corner of yet more gold flecks of a piercing there. "respectable? t'ut. dunno about all that." tap-tap of a clawed index to their chin, head rolling with the motion of a head-tilt. "you got a lot goin' on. still putting the puzzle pieces together."

all that languid movement, serpentine, came to it's conclusion: standing before him with the slow unfurling of yet another smile. "you're dying, aren't you?" oluwande tilted their chin up, to stare down the slant of their nose past serrated edges of bone piercing whittled away from the ribs of cambion conquests. it all coalesced in the eyes. gateways as it were; the peculiarity of the shock of pale-blue of their left presented itself as unnerving. it's difficult to meet their gaze proper because of it, by the juxtaposition of the earthy brown of the other. they seemed to see him as he presently was and yet still beyond. below the figure of a fork-tongued drow there was the touch of something beyond. the smell of a crypt, or, the slaughterhouse of a hag's den steeped.

"it's none of my business of course. none of this really is. . . but you? your little friends? you've been making your fair share of messes. and i thought i'd ask, real nice, that you keep off from killin' anymore of my friends. the hookhorrors mind their territory. and you been stompin' all over it."

[katakaluptastrophy]

I want to continue pushing my 'Magnus Quinn wasn't actually a terrible swordfighter' agenda.

Obviously, he wasn't on the same level as professional duelists Babs or Pro, or soldiers Marta or Jean. He was a guy who did some kind of fencing in high school and then picked it up again in his 30s, presumably with some degree of seriousness.

When Gideon joins the other cavaliers in the training room, Magnus and Jean are sparring. He jokes about how badly Jean is beating him, but he must have some degree of competence for aspiring soldier Jean to find him worth training with. Babs then mocks him for getting beaten by a teenager and Magnus jokes, describes himself as "absolutely no good", and praises Jean's abilities...before giving Babs such a death glare he gets obviously embarrassed.

It's worth bearing in mind that there's some degree of tension between the Third and the Fifth. Babs will have know Magnus since he was small and has almost certainly seen him fight before. But the Fifth, their relationship, and the relative freedom that Magnus has to not be a perfect fighter (because his necromancer values him as a human being) is clearly something that rankles the Third. In TUG, when Ianthe talks about Babs, she explicitly references Abigail and Magnus. And what's interesting is that she makes a comparison not just between Abigail's husband-with-a-sword and her perfect tool to be moulded and used, but also to Corona's aspirations to swordcraft:

IANTHE (Playing a card) She’s not here, so let me be fully honest, Sextus: my sister is not a swordswoman. She loves to wear big boots and wave a sword around, and she looks wonderful doing it, but her actual competence … well, put it this way: she’d lose to Magnus Quinn.

PALAMEDES Magnus Quinn was a cavalier primary.

IANTHE No, I mean Magnus Quinn now.

There's...a lot...to unpack here: the comparison of Corona to the husband-cavalier is intriguing in and of itself on a psychosexual level, as is the contradiction between Ianthe and Corona's own versions of Corona's competence. But Palamedes' response is also interesting, suggesting that Magnus was up to an acceptable standard for a cavalier, which Ianthe's joking response seems to back up.

So Babs' rudeness towards Magnus and Jean may have a lot to do with the internal dynamics of his own necromancer-cavalier relationship and not necessarily be an accurate reflection of Magnus' abilities.

Likewise, Judith's comment in the Cohort Intelligence Files that the Fifth is 'undoubtedly chagrined" to have "schoolboy fighter" Magnus representing them had to be read against the fact that we know from the Sermon on Necromancers and Cavaliers by Second House stooge M. Bias that the Cohort has a very low opinion of unranked "social cavaliers". And Judith Deuteros may have her own reasons for being disdainful of a cavalier who is so...cavalier...about his intimate relationship with his adept.

Magnus' own self-deprecating comment on his ability is:

"I didn’t get to be cavalier primary due to being the best with a rapier. I’m cavalier primary only because my adept is also my wife. I suppose you could say that I—ha, ha—cavalier primarried!”

But again, there's a difference between becoming cavalier primary because you're the best sword fighter and getting up to a vaguely competent level once you've become cavalier primary (guys in their 30s with high powered jobs tend to be scarily into their hobbies...) He is definitely the worst cavalier there (or would be, if Pro were actually alive), but on a general standard he probably isn't as terrible as people like to joke.

Another important bit of context here is that all of his comments about his own ability occur in the context of Corona trying to get him to fight Gideon. The shy, silent 18 year old from the cult planet whose practice of cavaliership is generally acknowledged to mostly consist of carrying buckets of bones.

She gets paired with Magnus because they assume she's not going to be much of a fighter and Magnus - neither a professional duelist nor a soldier - would therefore be the fairest opponent. Magnus is clearly uncomfortable. And Gideon is certainly Intimidating. But when you consider that most of his previous interactions with her have been trying to coax her out of her shell and clearly feeling rather sorry for her, his comments take on a bit of a different tone.

Does Magnus worry Corona has dragged along this poor kid out of interest or curiosity, and that she's going to be humiliated and never want to interact with them again? As Corona says “Come—Gideon the Ninth, right?—why don’t you try Sir Magnus instead? Don’t believe him when he says he’s rubbish. The Fifth House is meant to turn out very fine cavaliers," Magnus is politely dissembling, telling exactly the sort of jokes that would appeal to a teenager.

As everyone else mocks or is intrigued by Gideon's knuckle-knives, Magnus is trying to look her in the eye through her sunglasses, bewildered that she doesn't know to take off her robes or glasses to fight and then...suddenly realising that she is dead serious and perhaps he has dramatically underestimated her.

After his defeat, we hear him saying to Jean "I'm not quite that out of form, am I?". Gideon's abilities were totally unexpected: she severely tests a top duelist like Babs, and Magnus is surprised to be beaten in three moves. That suggests he's been holding his own rather more comprehensively in previous sparring.

And while he certainly wasn't up to Gideon's standard, he may have managed to draw his sword before Cytherea took him out...

[oraclemoontarot]

which k-pop idols match your vibe? 𓂃⊹ pac tarot reading

from left to right, top to bottom -> pile 1, pile 2, pile 3, pile 4

paid readings

•┈┈┈••✦ ♡ ✦••┈┈┈•

pile 1 𓂃⊹ ִֶָ

cards pulled: three of swords, six of wands, star, strength, empress, six of swords, king of pentacles, queen of wands, ten of wands

can I just say, I love your vibe so much?? you are someone who is successful, strong, and optimistic no matter your struggles, challenges, or any heartbreak in which you have or do go through. you are someone who looks to the future with optimism and hope in which things will get better, there is this inner strength to you that is so empowering and inspirational to others. some may even wonder how you are able to have such a strong heart and mind despite what may lay in your path.

your energy is mixed with that of the empress and the king of pentacles. there is this grace, femininity, beauty, and love to you, yet there is also a grounded humbleness, security, maturity and wisdom. paired with something enamouring and eye-catching - it's a confidence that is fun, sociable, caring, and nurturing. you bring good vibes with you everywhere to the point it's contagious and people love and long for your company.

you don't let the past hold you back, you don't let it define you, it is simply what built your character, but it did not chain you or keep you from achieving what you want and that is truly a wonderful thing.

idols which give me your vibe: tbh the first idol who came to mind was iu simply because of her life experiences yet, despite all that, she still remains someone positive and dedicated. other idols include ─ renjun, taehyung, hwasa, taeyong, baekhyun, lisa, ningning

pile 2 𓂃⊹ ִֶָ

cards pulled: moon, seven of cups, three of swords, two of cups, ace of cups, emperor, ace of pentacles, ten of cups, seven of pentacles

honestly, I was confused at first. it may be that you are someone who lives in their head a lot, maybe you daydream or envision how your life might be/go, there are a lot of fantasies, thoughts, dreams, feelings, it might be overwhelming or confusing. It may also be past feelings/experiences taking root in your mind, yet there is so much love and sensitivity to you. you feel things deeply and it may stem from your empathetic nature in which you may not often let show. Yet, because of this empathy, you are patient. you carefully and meticulously plan out your goals and take your time building the necessary steps to reach them, but this patience also surrounds those close to you.

you are like a protector and a mentor ─ someone who wants to be reliable and a strong pillar for others. you may want to provide as well, for your loved ones. Because of this, you may be good at making money or managing your finances. For you, what brings you true happiness and the feeling of contentment, is being close with your family and loved ones, making a house a home, and simply bringing people together.

idols which give me your vibe: you give me true leader energy, someone who may burry their worries but wants to be there for others and are extremely unselfish. therefore, idols that remind me of you are ─ suho, a mix of mark lee and taeyong, irene, hongjoong, bangchan

pile 3 𓂃⊹ ִֶָ

cards pulled: emperor, lovers, king of swords, tower, queen of pentacles, nine of pentacles, fool, ace of swords, death

you are someone who protects and takes care of your loved ones without hesitation. you are strong and a great communicator, there's never awkward silences, misunderstandings, or moments in which you're unable to clearly express your thoughts. there is this intelligence to you, and yet a nurturing side, it reminds me of tough love and from a good place. you are grounded and humble, stable and mature.

you are someone who embraces change, constantly shifting, you may be an air sign? you are constantly growing and through all your achievements, you feel a sense of gratitude and you appreciate the rewards you reaped through your hard work and efforts. the reason as to why you may embrace change is because it feels like it may be your first life, or that's the impression people get when they think of you. you have this excitement, energy, and wonder in your eyes - always ready to experience something new, to get out of the house and interact with people. you may even have a sense of love and excitement when it comes to interacting with others, especially if the communication is challenging, fun, deep, and meaningful. you may even love to debate certain topics.

idols which give me your vibe: as I was writing this, I kept looking up at the photo for this pile, and you really do remind me of haechan, to a T. other idols include: chuu, baekhyun, jake, beomgyu, taehyung, eric from tbz, johnny, dahyun, chaeryeong

pile 4 𓂃⊹ ִֶָ

cards pulled: three of wands, knight of swords, six of swords, nine of pentacles, ten of wands, page of cups, king of wands, page of wands, temperance

you are someone who previously let your past, your heart, and mind hold you back, but you have a newfound determination and drive and are taking the steps to move past that, if you haven't started already. it's as though you have said, 'enough is enough', and pulled yourself out of that void in search of creating something you know you would be proud of. you are grateful for those experiences, even if they initially might have hurt you or kept you in that mindset, because you know it has made you come out stronger and more eager to achieve your greatest wishes. you may also feel like it made you a far more interesting and multi-dimensional person.

Yet despite this eagerness, there's this childlike, sweet, and romantic side to you, kind of like a hopeless romantic, but in a cute and beautiful way. no matter how your experiences affected you, you still have so much love and light to give to this world, I feel so calm and happy while doing this reading for you, you are genuinely a one of a kind person, someone the world could do better having more of.

This sweetness also brings forth this passionate, energetic, enthusiastic and fun character. you enjoy the simplicities of life, you may even be a sentimental person with a lot of balance and empathy to you. you know when to take things seriously and when to simply have fun. there is this maturity to you that juxtaposes with your playfulness, and I think that with you embracing your silliness, your creativity, and your romantic nature without fear of judgment, is the most mature thing anyone can do ─ simply choosing to be your authentic self when everyone is like a mirror image of each other.

idols which give me your vibe: jaemin, jacob, jisung from nct, soul, hoshi, yeosang, taeyong, chenle, wooyoung, jisoo, lee know ─ just noticed a lot of these are infps lmaoo

[abiatackerman]

Sass War: Levi VS Y/N

⚠️Warnings:Suggestive sexual talks⚠️

The environment of Levi's office is clean and silent as you smile stupidly, sitting in front of Levi. He's working on his paperwork, as you rest your elbows on his table and you chin on your palms. You keep smiling without any reason, just looking at him, watching him working as you both remain silent.

He's so hot... So handsome!

Your smile widens.

"Why the stupid smile?"

Levi can feel your eyes on him, he can practically sense the smile on your face without looking at you himself. He keeps his gaze focused on his papers as he continues reading, his expression remaining indifferent as he tries not to give in to the urge to look over at your grinning face.

"No slacking, my beloved captain."

You say, smiling.

"Do your work. And it's not my fault, you invited me here. I would have loved to gossip with the brats instead of sitting in your office."

He raises an eyebrow at your reply before finally looking up from his papers, his grey eyes taking in your amused expression and the smile on your face.

"Tch. No way in hell I'm letting you gossip with those brats. That’d just make you more of an idiot than you already are."

"That kid, Armin is more intelligent than you. Not everyone is dumb, Levi."

Levi snorts at your remark.

"He may read damn books, and also he may be more intelligent than I am..."

He pauses for a moment, his lips tugging into a smirk as he leans back into his chair.

"But I bet he can't get you to make those pretty noises I get you to make at night, can he?"

You look at him with shock and disbelief.

"I never thought you were capable of saying something like that."

Levi leans forward across his desk, resting his arms on the surface of the table as he continues to smirk at you.

"Tch. Don't look so surprised. Even I can get filthy with my words if I want to."

He reaches out, his hand gently lifting your chin so you are forced to maintain eye contact with him.

"You always use filthy words... It's not unusual."

You say, resting your chin on his palm.

"I'm just surprised that you're talking about something sexual. That's odd. You're one of the most sexually frustrated guys I've ever seen."

A huff of amusement escapes Levi's lips as he moves his thumb to gently rub against your chin where you are resting it against his palm.

"Maybe I'm feeling a bit more confident today."

He pauses for a moment, his expression growing far more dark and sultry in that instant.

"Or maybe I'm just getting tired of holding myself back with you, Doll."

You chuckle.

"Holding yourself back? I don't think so. You practically whimper every time you thrust into me. Like a grumpy kitten."

You say, smiling cheekily as Levi narrows his eyes slightly. He doesn't like how easily you seem to rile him up and get him flustered.

"That's because you know exactly what to do, you little brat..."

He mutters, clearly trying to regain his stoic composure. Although his attempt is far from successful.

"Don't you feel ashamed of fucking a little brat then?"

Levi lets out an aggravated huff, his grey eyes narrowing further as he scowls at you. His hand that is still holding your chin in his grip tightened slightly.

"You're not a brat and you know it. Quit teasing me."

"Then quit calling me brat. You know you'll never win against me with words."

He scoffs at your smug reply, his frustration growing more as you continue to make those smug comments of yours. His mind is starting to grow clouded with thoughts of pinning you down to his desk and wiping that smirk right off your face.

"You're a pain in my ass."

"Well, about that... Stand up."

You say as you stand up. You pull his hand too. Levi raises an eyebrow slightly but doesn't question you or protest as he gets to his feet. You smile widely and slap his ass hard.

"Yeah, now I am a pain in your ass."

A small grunt involuntarily escapes Levi as you slap his ass, the sudden harsh impact catching him slightly off guard. He glares at you for a moment afterwards, his expression a mixture of annoyance at being caught off guard. His hands reach out, grabbing your wrists and he pins you against his desk.

"You're lucky I have a soft spot for your ass or else I'd have you in trouble right now, Doll."

"I know. Only I can beat you."

You say, smiling as you nuzzle in his neck.

"Also I bet that didn't hurt. At least not you."

He shifts, moving his knee to forcibly spread your legs apart, his body pressing against yours and trapping you between him and his desk. He releases one of your wrists, his fingers gently grasping your chin as he tilts your head back, forcing you to look at him.

"Nothing you do hurts me. But that attitude might get you a bit of punishment…."

"I love to annoy you."

You say as you sit on his desk comfortably and play with his ear, pulling them softly.

"And I love it more that you let me annoy you. I love you."

You say as you pull him closer by his ear and start to shower his face with kisses. Levi's expression remains stoic and indifferent. His body, on the other hand, betrays him in how he reacts to your teasing. He starts to blush lightly.

"Damn brat... Stop being so sweet, I'm trying to be annoyed with you and you make it impossible!"

"I'm not releasing you."

You say as you wrap your arms around his neck and your legs around his waist, practically clinging to him. Levi just wraps his arms around your waist in reply. He can't help but smile softly, enjoying the way you clung to him like a little koala. Yet, he continues to maintain his usual, grumpy demeanor.

"You're like a damn Koala, doll"

"Your koala."

You say, giggling and Levi can't suppress his smile. His heart warms at the sound. He tightens his arms around you, holding you close as he leans in and nuzzles his face into your neck, breathing in deeply.

"Damn right you are. My brat. My Y/N. My Doll. My love...."

[birdofmay]

What's the difference between nonverbal and nonspeaking?

I have posts about nonverbal autism, but none about the single topic "What's the difference between nonverbal and nonspeaking?" So this will be a handy linked blog entry for my pinned post.

All summed up: There is no real difference, it's a matter of preference. Please ask us what term we prefer and respect that choice. It's a sensitive topic because there has been a lot of discourse around it ☝🏼

Alright. First things first: Nonverbal is a medical term not exclusively for autism. In the medical field, "nonverbal" simply means that your speech is extremely impaired or fully absent. Yes, there are many meanings of "nonverbal", but this is what doctors mean. Did you know that there's nonverbal cerebral palsy too? (External link)

But let's focus on autism. Autistics who can't speak are said to have "nonverbal autism".

Discourse #1 - the mind is intact

There are many reasons why some autistics never learn to speak. One reason can be non-acquired apraxia (i.e. not due to a stroke, TBI, Alzheimer's, etc.), which leads to limited motor control. If it affects the mouth and throat only, individuals "know what they want to say", but their mouth doesn't cooperate. They either struggle to get words out clearly/don't get anything out at all, or their mouth seems to have "a mind of its own" - they say things they didn't want to say. If apraxia affects the whole body, this goes for actions too. Either they can't make their body do what they want to do (e.g. they want to point at a ball but their arm won't move) or their body does things they didn't want to do (e.g. they want to point at the ball but instead their finger points at the floor).

As you can imagine, this situation is really unfortunate when a therapist wants to test your intelligence. You can't get words out, so they ask you to show them what a triangle is. You know what a triangle is, but your body does its own thing. You point at the circle instead of the triangle, and your therapist concludes that you don't understand simple instructions. They assume intellectual disability. You're misunderstood all your life and everyone thinks that you can't learn to communicate, that you don't understand language. You're frustrated.

Luckily, at some point some people realised that these autistics CAN learn to communicate and in fact are very capable and understand language just fine. That was when apraxic autistics talked about this misunderstanding online. They talked about how they were mistreated and underestimated, that people should always "presume competence". They coined a new term for themselves: "Nonspeaking". In their opinion, "nonverbal" doesn't describe their experience and makes it sound like they can't learn to read or write. "My mind is intact, I can make intelligent choices about my life!" (External link)

Sounds good? Well, it may be surprising to know that most of us on Tumblr who can't speak either don't mind being called "nonverbal" or actively prefer nonverbal over nonspeaking. How can that be?

Discourse #2 - the mind isn't always intact

There are other reasons why some autistics never learn how to speak. Most of the time, in contrast to "nonspeaking self-advocates", we do struggle to understand language and our mind is not "intact". We have language disorders, brain damage, slow processing speed, often ID. The latter is why most of us aren't on any social media. My ability to communicate isn't average for us, it's an exception!

When the "say nonspeaking" wave reached Tumblr, I think at first most of us who are on social media liked that idea. We spread awareness about how terminology is a preference thing, that "nonspeaking" is about overcoming years of mistreatment and about empowerment. That some of us think that "nonverbal" sounds like we can't communicate and can't understand language, when that's not true. But, as I said, most autistics who never learned how to speak aren't online and therefore can't participate in this discourse. "Nonspeaking self-advocates", on the other hand, are on social media and love to participate. But they are a minority among those who can't speak.

The result? At some point it got a little ableist. The mindset "We are intelligent and understand language" turned into "You guys with ID and language disorders make us look bad" and THAT turned into speaking over and ignoring us. Or harassing even. "You have to call yourself nonspeaking, otherwise you're a bad person!" and so on. We responded "No, you say you're intelligent and your mind is intact. Good for you, but ours isn't. You erase our existence and we don't relate to your experience. We don't identify with your word." It was worse on other platforms, at some point the term "nonspeaking supremacist" was coined similar to "aspie supremacist".

Discourse #3 - free interpretation of a term that's NOT loosely defined??!

And last year, a really strange thing happened: Speaking autistics somehow mixed up the "To me personally, nonverbal sounds like I can't learn to communicate and don't understand language at all" and incorrectly informed others "So there's a difference between nonverbal and nonspeaking. Nonspeaking means that you can't speak and nonverbal means that you also can't communicate in other ways".

They took it as a fact and informed us that we "by definition" actually are nonspeaking because we can communicate via text. 🤦🏻‍♀️

I repeat: Most of us who can't speak aren't on social media. So this misinformation again spread everywhere because we weren't enough, we weren't loud enough. We can't ever be loud enough because, exactly: Most of us aren't on social media.

Now we weren't harassed by fellow nonverbal/nonspeaking autistics, nope, NOW suddenly speaking autistics from ALL over the world tried to inform us that we shouldn't call ourselves nonverbal - NOT aware that by now "nonspeaking" got a slightly ableist connotation in the process 😵

Here's an example of how wild things were last year...

And that's not enough: Suddenly everyone assumed that autistics who can't speak due to apraxia MUST call themselves nonspeaking because that's where the movement started. No, even apraxic autistics sometimes prefer "nonverbal", and they have every right to do so!

As things are now...

So, that's why most of us on Tumblr prefer nonverbal. Oh, and by the way:

Whenever someone isn't aware of this and makes a "To me, nonverbal means..." post, all I think is "Oh, not again, please not again", and I see this war flashback meme in my mind's eye 😅

Every "To me, nonverbal means..." post that ends with "And that's why I prefer nonspeaking" has the potential to get loud and start this harassment and misinformation all over.

Every new post that tries to define nonverbal and nonspeaking could start this all over again.

Because nonspeaking supremacists are very very loud. And speaking autistics are usually very very uninformed about us. And most nonverbal/nonspeaking autistics aren't on any social media.

[kirain]

Please don't get me wrong, I like gale well enough, but he turns me off because I get the impression that he wouldn't care much about what I have to say. He's so intelligent and wise and he clearly has years and years of education and study under his belt. So what on earth could I even talk to him about without boring him to death? Because honestly, I like to talk, like, a lot. I'm just as passionate about stuff but not nearly as knowledgeable and I fucking hate that look on people's face when they're blithely listening to stuff that bored them? Im not knowledgeable enough to have anything to offer him

This is ironically how Gale feels about himself. He feels like he has absolutely nothing to offer anyone, which is why he went after the orb in the first place. He felt inadequate for a goddess, and he feels inadequate for Tav. The idea that Tav is attracted to him genuinely shocks him, too, because from his standpoint ... who could possibly love him? He's just a guy who screws everything up. That's why he's so elated when Tav shares their feelings with him.

He knows magic, but he doesn't know the world. He's clueless in certain areas. Despite being so knowledgeable and passionate about magic, he wants to know Tav. He doesn't care how intelligent or unintelligent you are, he only cares that you're a good person. I haven't finished his romance yet, but I've made some pretty silly decisions (like licking a dead spider) and he's still sticking by me. His desire for Tav isn't transactional at all. In fact, he'd probably find your question "what on earth could I even talk to him about without boring him to death" perplexing. The answer is anything! Gale's passion is learning and sharing knowledge, and if you talk to him about a subject he's already well versed in, he won't shut you down, he'll just match your enthusiasm. I'm playing as a wizard, and every time I've spoken to him about the Weave or books or anything my character knows as a result of her background, he gets excited, not bored.

Moreover, Gale's hobbies mainly consist of reading. That's it. He likes to sit on his balcony and read. I'm sure many people would consider that boring, and he knows it. That's why he gets agitated when you first meet him. He blatantly tells you his hobbies and everything he loves; reading, writing poetry, his cat, so when you ask him to elaborate or say "tell me the real you" he gets a bit defensive. He dodges the question about his past and anything regarding the orb, but he was also being 100% honest about who he is. He does love reading, he does write poetry, he does worship his cat, but that's all he really has going for him and he knows it's not substantial. At least not from his perspective. He's insecure.

Mystra was his entire life. He was secluded from childhood by a groomer and only had Tara and tutors on the side. Then he lived alone in his tower for over a year, fearing death, regretting his mistakes, and reevaluating his life. Companionship is literally the best thing you can offer Gale, because it's the only thing he truly wants. Even just a simple friendship means the world to him. Anything else you bring to the table is an absolute bonus. Don't forget, when you reach his maximum affinity he responds to your queries with, "Always a delight to speak with you."

[shenanigans-and-imagines]

(astarion / acebard!tav)

Astarion never received any gifts before - and if he did, he forgot - but he would have loved for the first giver to be his lover, although they seemed pretty occupied with Gale and an object that suspiciously looked like a present.

(not native in english. so sorry if the wording is clusmy in some parts, i wan't sure how to write this xD)

A/N: I made a few adjustments, but I think I know what you're getting at. Hopefully it still works. Also, this turned out way more than five sentences because I have no self control.

Astarion x AsexualBard!Tav Masterlist

Word Count: 921

Astarion couldn't remember the last time he received a gift. The idea of being gifted anything was down right laughable. Nobody truly gave anything without expecting something in return. Some way, some how a price would be paid. He didn't need that hanging over his head, along with everything else. So why did seeing you hand Gale a wrapped parcel sting so much?

He watched as the wizard pulled apart the paper, his brows furrowed with curiosity clearing into a bright smile.

"Oh this is perfect!" he exclaimed. "How did you get it?"

"Do you really want to know?" you challenged, grinning yourself.

Gale opened his mouth as if to say something, but stopped himself with a guilty look. "Perhaps it's best I say thank you and leave it at that."

"What do you know, intelligent and wise," you teased. "Just make sure to pace yourself. Don't read it all in one night."

"I've made a point never to make promises I can't keep."

You laughed, giving Gale a light squeeze on the arm before turning in Astarion's direction.

He schooled his features into a casual expression, trying and failing to ignore the burning in his chest. Admittedly the fond look in your eyes did quell the fires, at least a little.

"Successful day?" he asked.

"More or less," you said, taking a seat beside him. "We've got a map. No way to read it just yet, but it's a start."

Astarion humphed, nodding in Gale's direction. "And that?"

"Just some petty thief," you explained. "Gale expressed an interest in it last time we were in town. Couldn't for the life of me explain why, but the bookseller refused to sell. Terrible way to run a business if you ask me."

This was normally when he would laugh or at least grant you an approving smile. Truly, he did love your casual relationship thievery, but it only made him more frustrated. He'd almost preferred you'd paid for it. If you had, he could dismiss the whole thing as a simple errand and not something more.

You frowned slightly, clearly taking notice of his mood.

"Alright, what's got you pouting?"

"I'm not pouting," he said, indignantly. "I'm brooding. There's a difference."

"My apologizes," you said, dryly. "What's got you brooding, oh mysterious one?"

He narrowed his eyes at you, his lips pressing into a hard line.

"I'm just surprised you would go so out of your way for a book. It's not as if you'd be able to understand it anyway."

A flash of hurt struck across your face, but you pushed it down in a way that made him sick to his stomach. What in the hells was wrong with him?

"Well, it's a good thing it wasn't for me then," you said, stiffly. "Now are you done being childish or are you actually going to tell me what's going on?"

Astarion tried to maintain eye contact in some vain attempt to hold onto his pride, but it was no use. He ducked his head down, his hands clenching and unclenching at his sides.

"I...I don't see why you think Gale is worth the effort is all," he admitted. "It's just a stupid book. It's not as if it's useful to the rest of us. So...why bother?"

He chanced a glance in your direction. You just stared at him, your lips slightly parted as you took him in.

"Astarion, are you jealous?" you finally asked.

"No," he said, a little too quickly, even to his ears.

"So what else would you call being upset over the fact I stole something specifically for Gale and not you?"

"I'm not upset," Astarion objected. "I'm just..."

"Brooding?"

He very much wanted to say something devastating in that moment, that would shut you up and let him walk away from this with some kind of dignity; but, he couldn't think of a damned thing.

"Fine, I'm jealous," he spat. "Happy?"

"Not really."

He closed his eyes, letting out a short sigh. He deserved that.

"I'm sorry," he said, softly. "You're right, it's...petty and I shouldn't have said that to you. Gods know if it were anyone else I would have torn their throat out."

He looked to you then, hoping you would see the honest truth in his words.

"I wish I was better at this. I know you care about me and I don't need you to commit robbery to prove it. Although, I wouldn't be opposed to it."

To his relief, a small crack of a smile turned at the corner of your mouth.

"I'll keep that in mind," you said, some of the teasing coming back into your voice.

"Does that mean I'm forgiven?" he asked.

"Only if you mean it."

He didn't have an answer for that. At least, not right away.

With deliberate care, he slipped his hand into yours, raising it to his lips.

He watched as your eyes widened in surprise, only to soften as he pressed a gentle kiss to your fingers. His eyes never strayed from yours. He needed you to see him too.

"I mean it," he said.

A true smile came to your lips, as you nodded. "Then you are forgiven."

He returned your smile, feeling a lightness in his chest only you seemed to grant him.

Perhaps he was wrong in his assessment. He had been given many gifts since meeting you. You practically showered him with them every single day, and damn him for taking any of them for granted.

[writingescapades]

Book Worm, Avid Learner Reader

A\N: You're a bookworm and avid learner. How does your fishy deal with that?

Sorry for any typos, grammar or syntax mistakes. I had a long day and am super tired.

Rafayel enjoys reading, but he does not have a regular habit. Imagine his surprise when he found out just how much you enjoy reading.

His exasperated look when, upon opening your kitchen cabinets, he’s faced with stacks of books, one on top of another, ready to come falling down with one wrong move. Of course, you know how to get books in and out without an avalanche occurring. He laughs when he sees the one cabinet you did dedicate to actual food.

Likes to accompany you when you acquire new books. Whether it’s from the library or a store, Rafayel likes to see what new interests have captured your attention. Sometimes he’ll comment or provide a recommendation, but really, he’s excited to see what new thoughts emerge from your reads

Does not buy you books just because you enjoy them. Reading is another form of art. There are books you enjoy and books you won’t, and he doesn’t want to provide you with books you’d dislike. He also doesn’t want to burn you with the chore of reading something just because someone gave it to you. So he tends to leave you to your literary world. But he’s watching. If he notices your preference for a specific author or topic, you might just find a little surprise awaiting you on after a long day.

LOVES having you read to him while he paints. He enjoys hearing your voice as white noise, and pays attention to what you’re reading. If you stop reading to reflect on a passage or ask him his thoughts, he’s quick to respond. A lot of laughter occurs in these moments, but so do a lot of deep conversations that leave both your souls satisfied. Sometimes what you’re reading to him or your conversations end up appearing somewhere in his paintings.

Sometimes, when he’s experiencing an artistic block. He closes his eyes and asks you to read to him. Using your voice and his mind as a guide, he lets his inhibitions go and just paints.

Has done a photography series called “Dating a Reader” where it’s just candid shots of you reading a book on different days. The passage of time as the books gets read. The notes and tabs you keep. The light in your eyes as you jabber on about something in the book, and the final picture, his most favourite. When you finish your book, your head turned towards him, finally giving him attention, all the while, an arm outstretched towards the next book.

Rafayel is impressed by intelligence. So when he sees that you are a walking encyclopedia, he’s hooked. He loved pointing to any random object and just asking you what you know about it. He especially loves it when your reading provides you information on art. It makes it easier for him to communicate what he verbally cannot express. You’re not shallow with your observations and questions like the people who attend his art shows. There is a genuine curiosity that he cannot help but feed. It makes him feel truly seen by you, truly remembered. Also just loves it when you go off on tangents or provide well thought out answers to questions from people who are clearly trying to put you down. Has a very “that’s my spouse” moment, even though you’re not married. Not yet.

Reading makes one develop a love for learning, and you’re no exception. Rafayel doesn’t attempt to match your learning drive, but he does challenge you. Always prompting you to think of things in a different light or plays the devil’s advocate to present an alternative view. You know it’s his way of showing he cares about your passions. His way of showing that they are not just things about you or something he has to put up with, but rather something he wants you to continually develop alongside your relationship.

Despite this, he still becomes reserved and hesitant when it comes to Lemurians. He knows your curious. Dying, even to see his Lemurian form and experience the ocean from his eyes. But he can’t open that world to you just yet. In thanks for your patience, he indirectly feeds your knowledge by showing you what humans have misunderstood about Lemurians. Hoping, that your intelligence and curiosity will drive you to figuring things out on your own; and half scared of what you might do once you place the final piece.

While he might grumble and whine about you giving your books more attention then him, Rafayel would NEVER make you choose between him and your books. He knows it’s a package deal, much like how his erratic lifestyle and shadowy sides where sides of him you openly accepted. Though you live apart, he still has a library ready to be filled by you. He kind of hopes it might tempt you to move in because how can you say no to your own library?

[kiwi-on-ice]

Kinktober 2024 day 25: Pet Play with Moira

Fem reader, NSFW 18+

Also contains dom!moira, pussy slaps, fingering

With a rough tug of the leash, you hiss as you're pulled back to your previous position of kneeling at the desk of your lover.

"Pet, how many times have I told you. Sit. Still."

You huff softly, but don't dare speak. After all, you know pets shouldn't. But despite your need to follow Moira's rules, you can't help feeling bored. She's been working on her new experiment plan for ages, and you were starting to feel restless.

And she knew it. She knew that putting the cute collar on, a soft pink with a gem in the middle the same colour as her hair, would send you automatically into a more pliable headspace. The cute cat ears she'd found had simply been a cute addition.

Those ears have a slight bell on them, and the dainty sound rings out when you lower you head a little. But it doesn't stop Moira from reacting to your small huff, slapping your cheek lightly.

"And cut that attitude out. I thought you were going to behave."

You let out a soft whine, your version of an apology, before resting your cheek back on her leg. After a few moments, you hear her typing again, so you sneak a look up at her, at your mistress.

And you immediately regret it. Your neglected cunt practically throbs as you see her working, her sharp features focused on the screen in front of her. She'd put reading glasses on, the frames making her look more intelligent, more powerful as her eyes scan the document she's typing. You wish you could be touching her right now, but you sink your claws into your own thighs to restrain yourself.

Instead you rub your cheek against the material of her trousers, sighing softly as your eyes flutter closed. But the longer you stay down there, the more desperate you become. Eventually to all gets to be too much, so you subtly shift and grind on her show, the tip of it providing a stimulation to your clit that has you biting your lip.

And you almost get away with it, but Moira is just too perceptive, too observant. So with a yank of your leash, you nearly topple over. "You really are a bad girl, aren't you? I thought I had a well behaved kitten in my care, but you're acting like a spoilt bitch."

You whimper at her harsh words, looking down ashamedly before her long fingers tangle in your hair. In a display of mock comfort, she massages your scalp, feeling you almost purr beneath her touch.

"Bend over the desk beside me."

Scrambling up to obey her, you arch your back as you bend, and she hums before feeling your ass with her hand, not even bothering to get up from her chair.

"Count." she remarks, and you nod and brace for the spanking you think you're about to receive. But Moira is never one to be predictable.

She delivers a sharp slap to your clothed pussy, not as hard as she would on your ass, but still enough for a whine to be ripped out from your throat.

"I believe I said to count, kitten." she says with a smirk, as you quickly do what she said.

She strikes twice more in quick succession, and your thighs shake at the pleasurable sting. To soothe you, she rubs small circles over your clothed clit. Immediately you moan gently, finally getting some attention on your needy bud.

But she strikes again, and you mutter a quick "four" before she grins wolfishly.

"One more my darling, and then no more speaking." she demands, before delivering the final smack.

After you practically yelp 'five', she grins and pulls down your now soaked panties. The delicate material feels lovely on her callous fingertips; she always adores when you wear such dainty garments, to really solidify your place as her pretty pet.

She presses a finger inside of your cunt, feeling your drenched walls immediately clench around her digit like a lifeline. You moan softly, clearly needing more but trying your hardest to remain still and pliant.

"Fuck yourself on my fingers pet."

With a soft noise, you start to rock forwards and backwards, feeling her press a second finger inside to make the sensation more pleasurable for you. With each movement, the bell on your cat ears rings gently, emphasising the salacious nature of your actions.

"Fuck..." you mumble softly, before she tuts and shakes her head.

"Kittens don't speak." she taunts, and you whine again as an apology. The shaky tremor of your noise makes her smile, document forgotten for now as she aims to please her needy pet in the way she knows you deserve.