#but he’s not perceptive enough to think of it on his own - which is the problem

[silkysoftie]

𝐧𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐨𝐮𝐬

shouto todoroki x female reader

summary: when his sweet girlfriend is nervous to meet his family, shouto decides to help take the edge off.

↳ warnings: 18+, nsfw, college au, established relationship, pet names, praise, tears, fingering, exhibitionism (aged up characters)

beta reader: @themellowminx

a/n: sorry this took so long! i meant for this to come out sooner, but i fell into a writing slump :( sho is a bit difficult to write so i hope i was able to do his character justice! enjoy <3

Little white puffs of snow floated slowly through the still evening air as Shouto quietly led you down the sidewalk to his family home, his palm warm in yours.

Winter had come at last, the days shortening, and the temperatures dropping. You’d met Shouto Todoroki in the spring. The fields of flowers he’d once stopped to pick from for you now hid away under a thick blanket of snow. After the first snowfall of the year, Shouto had quickly decided winter was your best season, captivated by how you seemed to glow amongst the vast whiteness. Though he’d never mention it, he quite liked the dusting of red that covered your cheeks and nose in the icy air. He couldn’t help the little grin that tugged his lips at the sight of you, bundled up in a pink, fluffy scarf, hair windswept and frosty. You just looked so cozy.

Seeing as the two of you had been dating for some time now, Shouto thought it appropriate for you to finally meet his family. Rei, his mother, was delighted by the idea and invited you to dinner without hesitation, anxious to meet the girl Shouto always mentioned in his letters. Thus, the very next Friday you were at the Todoroki’s doorstep, shaking like a leaf.

What if they didn’t like you? After all, you’d always felt Shouto was way out of your league. For goodness’ sake, the man was built like a Greek god, all sharp angels and smooth muscles. When you’d passed by him on the way out of the lecture hall, his distinctive dual-toned locks catching your eye, you’d had to do a double take, astonished to share a class with someone so unfairly handsome. And to think, he’d noticed you of all people. You’d never been particularly insecure, but next to the campus heartthrob, you just couldn’t compare.

“Hello! Welcome in,” Rei opened the front door, her words soft and gentle, but filled with excitement. Your trembling seemed to worsen at the mere sight of her.

Shouto lightly squeezed your hand in reassurance before ushering you in. After greeting her son, Rei turned to you.

“I’m so pleased to meet you, Y/N. Shouto has told me so much about you,” Rei smiled at you warmly, a slight lift at the corner of her lips. Suddenly, you were struck by how closely Shouto resembled her. They had the same, soft shape to their face, straight nose, and long, sweeping eyelashes. Not to mention the way in which they observed the world around them, quietly, but perceptively. She was almost as unreasonably beautiful as her son. Maybe God did have favorites after all…

“Hel-” your voice wobbled embarrassingly thanks to your nerves. Shouto’s shoulders raised almost imperceptibly, his lips pressing into a thin line in attempt to smother a laugh. Yep, ok, time to go home and dwell on this for the rest of your life.

Clearing your throat, you tried again, “Hello, it’s very nice to meet you. Thank you for inviting me over.”

Rei’s smile widened, just enough that a flash of brilliant, white teeth peaked through. Beside you, Shouto swelled with pride, a little smile of his own making its way onto his face at his mother’s reaction to you.

“I also, um, brought you this,” Rei watched with interest as you fished around in your purse in search of something. After a moment you pulled out a small, ornate box, decorated with a delicate bow.

Shouto’s mother took it from you carefully, her movements graceful and slow. After opening the little box, a quiet gasp left her.

“It’s mochi from my hometown…” you wrung your hands together nervously, hopeful she’d like the gift since you’d picked it without knowing much about her tastes, “I know it’s not quite the holidays, but I thought you might like to taste it.”

“My goodness, this is very kind of you,” Rei murmured, her grey eyes examining the little desserts and their descriptions intently.

After a moment, she turned her thoughtful gaze back to you, “Thank you very much, Y/N.”

Shouto had a hard time schooling his features into their usual, serious expression when his mother was so obviously pleased. Rei was a rather reserved woman, a trait she’d passed on to him. And like him, she kept a tight hold on her emotions, her countenance always very carefully calculated. To anyone else, Rei might seem as cold as ice, but her son knew better.

She liked you, Shouto could tell.

Just as you were about to respond, a young woman burst into the hall, running over to where the three of you still stood in the genkan.

“I’m so sorry! I was brewing tea and didn’t hear you come in!” the words tumbled out of the woman in a rush, her glasses slipping down her nose in her haste.

“Y/N,” Shouto said in that temptingly deep voice of his, “this is my sister, Fuyumi.”

“It’s so nice to finally meet you, Shouto mentions you and your cooking often,” you bowed slightly, a shy smile tugging at your lips. It was nice to finally put a face to the name. You wondered briefly if all the Todoroki children looked so incredibly alike. Shouto and Fuyumi shared, not only, their mother’s elegant bone structure, but also their coloring. Fuyumi’s white hair was dotted with the same shock of red that split Shouto’s evenly down the middle. Only their eyes set them apart, Shouto boasting both Rei’s deep, stormy grey and Enji’s electric blue.

Fuyumi beamed at your indirect compliment while Shouto’s eyebrows furrowed somewhat. You guessed he might be embarrassed that you would mention his comments about his sister’s cooking, seeing as he was a rather poor one himself.

“Please come in,” Rei urged you, “We set up the kotatsu today in anticipation of your arrival.”

Shouto helped you shrug out of your winter coat, his long fingers brushing lightly against your neck as he unfurled your scarf, sending a lick of fire down your spine. After dawning your house slippers, the two of you made your way through his family home, stopping every now and then to marvel at the beautiful, traditional, Japanese architecture.

Before long, the four of you were seated comfortably under a brightly colored kotatsu, sipping hot, green tea and chatting. As the tea slowly warmed you from the inside out, the heater worked to thaw your frozen limbs. More than once you had to stop yourself from letting out a sigh of relief, thankful to be out of the cold.

Unable to part from you for long, Shouto pressed himself firmly against your side, his hands fidgeting with his teacup as though he didn’t quite know what to do with them. The feeling of his thick, muscled thigh rubbing up against yours under the quilt did nothing to help calm your nerves. You made a point to focus on the conversation at hand, rather than the heat from his body seeping into yours.

“Natsuo will be joining us later, he has to work late this evening,” Fuyumi mentioned as she fiddled with the teapot, pouring another round for everyone, “and Touya is out doing who knows what.”

“Probably burning down an elementary school,” Shouto mumbled, more to himself than anyone. You hastily brought your teacup to your lips in attempt to hide your snicker. You’d heard all about Shouto’s oldest brother and his rebellious ways, leading you to believe that his comment was more plausible than not.

After regaining your composure you curiously asked, “And what about your dad?”

A somber silence settled over the table at the mention of Enji Todoroki. Your cheeks burned hot with embarrassment. Clearly you’d touched on a sore subject. Whatever good first impression you’d managed to make was likely now squashed. Good going.

“Our father is a politician,” Fuyumi explained quietly, “He’s almost never home… always at one meeting or another.”

Sensing your distress, Shouto huffed loudly, drawing attention to himself.

“That’s fine, more soba for me.”

Was that.. a joke?

A surprised giggle escaped Fuyumi as Rei’s eyebrows shot up, the two effectively distracted from your earlier blunder. You glanced up at the man next to you, all the love and affection you’d ever felt for him bubbling up in your chest. His heterochromatic eyes found yours, the smallest of smiles on his face. God, he was just so good… so good to you.

Mood officially lightened, the conversation carried on as if nothing had happened.

“So, Shouto, how are you doing in school?” Rei questioned.

“I am doing well. Y/N and I study together for our shared classes. I find her presence very helpful,” Shouto responded easily.

Overwhelmed with adoration for your boyfriend, you were unable to focus, a goofy grin pulling at your lips as you stared at your teacup, replaying his kind gesture over and over in your mind.

“Y/N?”

It was only when Shouto’s elbow lightly nudged yours that you realized Rei had asked you a question. Your hands flew to your face, flushed in shame.

“S-sorry, what was that?”

It was as though all of your earlier nerves rushed right back into your body, fingers trembling against the smooth, ceramic cup.

“I only asked if you were enjoying school,” Rei smiled encouragingly, her eyes crinkling at the corners.

“Oh! Yes, very much. My classes are all very interesting, but I have to admit, I enjoy the ones with your son the most.”

A little smirk tugged at the corner of Shouto’s mouth, clearly pleased with your answer.

“I’m very glad to hear it,” Rei laughed a bit, “As much as I’d love to keep chatting, Fuyumi and I have to get dinner started.”

You floundered as she got up to leave, not wanting to seem impolite, “Is there anything I can do to help?”

“Thanks for offering, but you’re our guest. We’ll take care of it. Like Shouto has told you, I’m an amazing cook!” Fuyumi puffed her chest out in pride, a brilliant smile on her face. Shouto merely grimaced, deflating a little in his seat.

The two left for the kitchen, leaving you and your boyfriend to your own devices.

“Ugh…”

You folded over, forehead smacking against the top of the kotatsu table. Shouto chuckled quietly, one of his large palms coming up to rub at your back.

“They probably hate me,” you whined, words muffled by the wood.

You heard a sigh escape your boyfriend followed by his smooth voice, “They do not hate you. In fact… I think they quite like you.”

The speed at which you were back up and staring at him was almost comical, Shouto’s mouth quirking up at the red mark on your forehead.

“Really?”

“Really.”

Releasing a breath you didn’t know you were holding, you considered his words. Could they really like you? You’d fumbled and stuttered your way through the entire conversation, for crying out loud! Not to mention the slip up regarding his father; you shuddered at the mere memory.

You knew that Shouto, of all people, would never lie to you and if the genuine look on his face was anything to go by, he didn’t plan on breaking that streak of honesty anytime soon, but…

“Ah.. I don’t know! I’m not very good with meeting new people. What if I mess everything up?!” your hands found your cheeks once more, scrubbing anxiously at the flushed skin.

Shouto caught your hands in his, squeezing tightly in an attempt to calm you, “You are not going to mess anything up.”

But his actions had the opposite effect, his warm touch sending shivers up your arms and worry bubbling up inside your chest. Here he was, always so incredibly good and kind, and you were just… well, you were just you! Plain, old you!

“Oh, I am! I’m going to mess everything up and they’ll hate me forever! And then you’ll dump me and we’ll never get married and we’ll never have babies, and-“

Shouto’s lips were suddenly on yours, hot and demanding. Coincidentally, all thoughts seemed to fly right out of your brain, leaving only buzzing excitement in their wake. Your surprise allowed him to slip his tongue inside without much effort, his mouth working expertly over yours.

To put it simply, Shouto kissed you silly.

When the two of you came up for air, panting slightly, he reassured you, “Love, they like you. I know they like you. I am not going anywhere and we can have all the babies you want. You’re overthinking.”

You stared at his lips, a little dazed from the unexpected kiss. Blinking a bit to clear your head, it took a moment for his words to register, but when they did, you frowned, “I know, I just… Ugh! I can’t help it!”

His warm hand slid under your chin, tilting your face to meet his unwavering gaze.

“Then let me help.”

It was a simple—well, it was more of a command than a question—but it had your mind short circuiting all the same.

“Please?” Shouto tilted his head in question, his innocent expression a stark contrast to the implications of his words, “Will you let me help you, my love?”

“Yes,” you breathed out, unable to resist him when his eyes were burning holes into yours with such an intensity it turned your bones to jelly.

His lips stretched into a lopsided grin before he dove back in, hungrily capturing your mouth with his once more. While you were distracted, one of his hands snaked its way under the kotatsu quilt, finding the soft, little space of flesh above your tall, knitted socks and giving it a light squeeze. A squeak of surprise escaped you, but Shouto swallowed it down, fingers tracing a familiar path up your leg. A path you recognized all too well.

It took all your strength—both mentally and physically—to pull away from his addictive taste, “Sho... what are you doing?”

He eyed you curiously, looking as though the answer were the most obvious thing in the world, “Helping.”

You gaped at him, a furious blush staining your cheeks. He couldn’t be serious. For goodness’ sake, Rei and Fuyumi were just in the next room over!

“W-what? I thought we were just gonna kiss! What about your f-family?!” you managed to stutter out, incredulous.

Shouto shrugged, eyes flickering to the hallway and back, “Can you be quiet?”

You nearly choked. Here and now, Shouto Todoroki was going to kill you. They’d find your lifeless body in his family home and wonder what could have happened. Your ghost would float above them, cries for justice falling on deaf ears. And your boyfriend would stand there, knowing he was the cause behind the mysterious heart failure.

“What?!” you cried, but Shouto was unfazed, carrying on as if you hadn’t spoken.

“I think you can,” he murmured thoughtfully, fingers drumming against the inside of your thigh.

This behavior was so incredibly unlike him, that you were at a loss for words, your mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water, “B-but, but-”

“Shh,” he hushed you, thumb rubbing soothing circles into your skin, “stop worrying and let me take care of you.”

All complaints died on your tongue when he leaned in close, his warm breath prickling your skin as his broad shoulders once again filled your vision. Your heart lurched when his fingers trailed up your thigh, teasing their way up under your skirt. A squeal caught in your throat, your panties sticking uncomfortably to your core. Was he really going to do this right now?! But when his mouth moved forward to capture your own, locking you in another passionate kiss, your thoughts quieted, a happy, little hum escaping you thanks to his skillful tongue.

It seemed this was the response Shouto had been waiting for, because the second you accepted his lips, his deft fingers found your panties, tracing lightly along the hem. He paused a moment, perhaps surprised your lack of safety shorts, but recovered quickly, a single finger hooking under the band. You tried to pull away from him, to remind him of his family in the next room, but he was undeterred, kissing away your protests.

Ever so slowly, his fingers inched under the fabric, resting against your heated skin. You chased after his lips when he pulled away from you, his chest heaving and eyes half-lidded behind his bangs. He was so utterly beautiful that it nearly took your breath away, arousal licking at your core. The air between you had grown warm, whether from the heat of the kotatsu or the moment, you didn’t know.

Shouto looked to you for permission one last time, a single, white eyebrow raised and an unspoken question dancing in his irises. All you could do was nod, so thoroughly bewitched by his beauty.

In an instant, his hand was on you, right where you needed it most. Gone were the fleeting touches and gentle caresses, having been replaced by desire and desperation.

Your boyfriend waisted no time in sliding his fingers up your folds, his eyes gleaming with interest when they came away covered in slick. Shouto’s tongue darted out to lick at his lips, his breath coming a bit quicker thanks to the discovery. He was getting worked up embarrassingly fast, pants already feeling a little tighter.

After a bit of light petting, he finally slid one, long finger inside your sopping entrance, his pace torturously slow and hitting all the right spots. You held back a whine, lip caught between your teeth and your gaze flicking between him and the hallway. A low rumble came from deep in Shouto’s chest, displeased by your divided attention.

In attempt to win you over, he leaned forward, lips grazing along your neck, finger still pumping in and out of you steadily. That seemed to do the trick, your posture finally relaxing and your eyes falling shut. Shouto inwardly celebrated, glad to have finally calmed you.

As he nipped and kissed his way down the column of your throat, his hand picked up the pace, finger thrusting into you a bit faster. The muscles in your thighs tensed and twitched, making him smile against your skin before sitting up, anxious to watch your pleasured expression twist with each careful drag of his digit against your clenching walls.

Hiking your skirt up for better access, Shouto added a second finger without warning, the loud squelch of your wetness making heat rise to your cheeks. An involuntary moan ripped from your throat, prompting him to slap a hand over your mouth.

You both froze, waiting for Rei or Fuyumi to come storming in at any moment, but that moment never came.

“I know it feels good, but you have to stay quiet for me, alright?”

You nodded obediently, whimpers muffled by his large palm. As arousal dripped from your pussy, your knees fell open of their own accord, making space for his hand to slot against you, cupping your heat. Letting your head loll back, you gazed up at Shouto, glittery, little tears brimming in the corners of your glassy, unfocused eyes. It was a precious sight, one that was practically begging for his affection.

Leaning down to place a gentle kiss against the back of his own palm was the best he could offer, knowing your voice would betray you should he let you free. A pathetic whine tumbled from you, desperately wishing it was his lips on yours instead.

“You’re doing so well, love,” he reassured, “I know you want me to kiss you right now, but we can’t risk someone hearing those sweet noises of yours. Just hold on for a little longer, ok? Do you think you can do that for me, sweetheart?”

Surely this man would be the death of you.

Your nails clawed at the arm that held you, eyes rolling back when his fingers found that special spot deep inside of you. It felt as though you were on fire, skin burning underneath his touch. All reservations and embarrassment faded away, blinding you to anything other than the rhythmic tempo of his ministrations. Chasing the high that continued to elude you, your hips rolled, grinding down into his palm.

Sensing your impending orgasm, Shouto’s hand lightly pushed against you, urging you down to the floor carefully. Crawling over you, he resumed his brutal pace, finger fucking you as though there were no tomorrow.

You were so damn close. Just when you thought you couldn’t handle anymore, his thumb found your clit, circling the sensitive bud delicately. He just looked so devilishly handsome hovering above you, sharp eyes watching you closely, fascinated by the way your body squirmed.

“Think you can cum for me? I know you need to,” Shouto cooed, thumb and fingers working in tandem to bring you to the very edge.

Your legs quivered, hips jerking up uncontrollably with each press against your clit. Frustrated tears finally slid down your hot cheeks, unable to keep them at bay any longer.

“Pretty girl,” he whispered, a blush of his own settling at the top of his cheekbones, in awe of how angelic you looked underneath him.

His words were your undoing.

Shouto quickly replaced his hand with his mouth in hopes of suppressing your cries. A strangled sound left you, climax tearing through your body with unexpected force. But your loving boyfriend kissed you through it, thumbing away the tears that trickled down your face.

Just when you were beginning to catch your breath, mind still reeling from such an overwhelming orgasm, a knock at the door cut through the silence.

Startled, you sat up abruptly, accidentally knocking your forehead against Shouto’s, “Ack!”

Shouto hissed through his teeth, gingerly rubbing at the welt that was beginning to form when a loud voice rang out from the genkan, “Hey, it’s me, Natsuo! You guys left the door unlocked!”

You and Shouto shared a panicked glance before scrambling to tidy yourselves. Quick as lightning, you adjusted your skirt and rolled your knitted socks back up your thighs.

Rei’s gentle voice answered from the kitchen, “Hi, honey! Dinner is almost ready, Fuyumi and I will be right out!”

While the two of you adopted your former positions under the kotatsu, Shouto reached out and ran a hand through your mussed hair, carefully brushing through the tangles.

“Thanks…” you huffed out, winded from more than just the rush to look presentable.

But before your boyfriend could respond, Natsuo was striding into the living room, briefcase in hand and hair tousled from the winter weather. He plopped down onto the floor across from you, groaning appreciatively as he stretched his stiff legs out under the quilt, basking in the warmth of the heater.

Once he’d settled in, he bowed his head at you politely, “I’m so sorry I’m late. You must be Y/N. I’m Shouto’s older brother, Natsuo.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” you choked out, cheeks ablaze as the reality of your risky behavior set in.

Next to you, Shouto sat straight as an arrow, shoulders squared and spine ridgid. He wore a pained expression, though if Natsuo noticed, he didn’t care to mention it.

Suddenly, Rei made her way back into the living room, Fuyumi following closely behind, their arms burdened by many plates and trays of gorgeously prepared food. They’d gone all out, making sure to include all the traditional favorites, the love and care they put into the meal evident. Once everything was laid out on the kotasu table, the two sat down, admiring their handy work.

Conversation flowed easily, Rei asking Natsuo about his day at work and how the office profits were doing. Fuyumi got to work dishing out appetizers, occasionally piping in here and there.

After awhile, Rei’s observant gaze turned on you. You couldn’t help but flinch under her watchful eye, a nervous smile dancing on your lips.

“Y/N, dear, you look flushed. Are you feverish?” Rei’s eyebrows furrowed with concern, the look of an anxious mother staining her elegant features.

You glanced at Shouto, who appeared to be rather uncomfortable with his erection straining against his pants, thankfully hidden by the thick quilt. He merely stared back, a promising look in his eye.

“Maybe I caught a cold on the walk over?”

“Don’t worry, I will take care of you,” were, of course, the next words out of Shouto’s mouth.

tags:

[randomfoggytiger]

Mulder's Alien Baby Baby Trauma In-Depth (Part XVII): Two Steps Forward, and Going Down Swinging

In the wake of feeling professionally replaced (and betrayed), Mulder continues to commandeer the Galpex-Orpheus oil rig... that is, until Doggett begins to assert his own dominance, too.

In other words: how does their dynamic change, now that Agent Doggett is head of the files?

SHIFTING HIERARCHIES

We left off with Agent Mulder making Agent Doggett jump through hoops to prove himself-- antics which have, by degrees, whittled away the patience Doggett kept doling out for his partner's wayward partner.

Now, however: enough is enough.

"Agent Mulder! Don't walk away when I'm talking to you!” Doggett demands, roaring up behind the aforementioned man (who is studiously ignoring every word he’s saying.) Patience thoroughly thinned, his voice-- while controlled-- projects across the oil rig: the days of biting his tongue are over. “Like it or not I've been assigned this case-- one call to the Deputy Director and you’re canned for insubordination.”

Instead of addressing his claims, Mulder deflects, “How are you going to call when the radio’s broken?”

“Hey, don’t push me, Agent Mulder.”

Mulder pulls up short, turns, and faces Doggett coolly. “You won’t do it.”

“You think?”

“We're both in the same boat, Agent Doggett. We're just paddling in different directions.” Which is an admission, albeit late and smugly given, of Mulder’s feelings and reservations: Doggett’s not a bad man, nor a simple cog in the machine. He is, however, allowing himself to be used as such-- Mulder believes-- which is a danger in and of itself. But instead of communicating this directly, he characteristically dodges a straight answer-- a behavior Mulder is forced to overcome (forced to grow up from, in a way) halfway through Vienen.

Fed up with uncooperative grabs for leadership, Doggett lays down the law. “No, we’re not going in different directions here-- we’re going in one direction. My direction.” 

Snapping his head in a faint nod, Mulder’s mouth drops open slightly as he considers how to challenge this new angle. Despite feeling affronted, a tinge more respect floats to the surface: he can't help respecting someone who confronts him honestly, in spite (or because of) all his difficult, sanctimonious, cryptid approaches and critiques-- trust through transparency, essentially (which is also how he can easily be manipulated, be it from Phoebe Green or Alex Krycek or Diana Fowley or Karin Berquist or etc.) 

Following Doggett’s authoritative footsteps, Mulder raises his voice across the sparse, accumulated distance. Nasally and matter-of-fact, he argues, “I don't think Kersh expects you to come back empty-handed on this one. Since you have already told me about what you think about this case in so many words, I don't see you coming back with anything that's gonna protect anybody's business interests.” 

Thoroughly riled, Doggett stops and slowly turns, slightly grimacing with contempt. “Wow, you really got me pegged. Anything that doesn't fit in my narrow field of vision might as well not exist, is that right Agent Mulder?” 

Mulder stares, then slightly nods and gulps-- pegged, and a little impressed at Doggett's combined insight and complete self-control. An accusation of this nature would have made him or Scully blaze up, but not his replacement. Agent Doggett, then, isn’t as soft-bellied as he'd supposed... which shouldn't be too surprising, given the man's penchant for taking undeserved punches and still saving lives days later (post here.)

Although Mulder doesn’t deny the accusation, he doesn’t need to: his faulty perception has been revealed. The past has already justified his replacement: Doggett, for all his practical, probable skepticism, still encouraged Scully to take leaps of faith in their cases-- he’d studied Mulder’s methods, notated its success, and trusted to that process, to the work, in Mulder's absence. The exiled x-file agent doesn’t know this, of course-- his former partner hasn’t told him about her new partner’s recruitment, or about Doggett’s journey towards a form of belief, or about Doggett’s steadfastness and loyalty. And why hasn't Scully told him about everything? Because Mulder didn’t want to hear it; and, resurrections and PTSD and abruptions aside, perhaps she wasn’t ready to get into a larger conversation over issues that would resolve themselves in a few weeks (via her maternity leave), especially in light of their recent reconnection. This is, of course, speculation built off of Mulder's hinted one-liner (previous post here), but it fits quite well with what we’re given in Alone. 

Besides, Mulder previously glimpsed Doggett's floundering struggle with, but not complete rejection of, the unknown (post here)-- a truth he'd set aside in wounded pride (post here.)

“So why is this man Taylor lying?” Doggett asks, seeing that he’s nailed Mulder’s motives and proven himself again in some small measure. “You do know he's lying, don’t you?”

Bobbing his head and licking his lips in agreement, Mulder drops the cynicism and gives John Doggett an honest, upfront answer: “I think he knows the truth about what happened. And he may not be the only one.”

The other agent, however, is not charmed by this admission-- too little, too late; too many bits and pieces that add up to a mercurial, paranoid loon. 

“I never would have believed it, these stories about you”-- gives away Agent Doggett’s position, as well. Up to this point, he’d borne Mulder’s antics with the graceful assumption that there was ‘more than meets the eye’. Agent Mulder was the crazy man burrowed away in the basement, yes; but the extent of his conspiracy theories for something as simple as turf wars over an oil rig-- Doggett assumes-- frustrates, baffles, and disappoints. 

Eyebrows pumping-- guard shooting right back up-- Mulder prods, “Really-- what stories are those?”

“That you can find a conspiracy at a church picnic.”

Again, nodding; again, reasserting dominance; again, changing his opinion, Mulder concludes, “What church?” before he walks ahead, leaving Doggett’s consternation in the dust.  

GOING DOWN SWINGING

Here we reach the first marker for Mulder’s resignation decision, and the boldest on-screen nudge, thus far, of his impending fatherhood-- which we all know at this point is criminal, particularly so because David Duchovny would have loved to flesh out the more personal aspects of his character’s challenges and changes. But I digress.  

Scully calls the oil rig with salient and pressing information; and before she’s either disconnected or connected through to Doggett, Mulder intercepts the comms. 

“Well I’m sorry, Agent Doggett’s gone fishing. Can I take a message please?” He slides into the chair, lips gleefully glued to the microphone-- tickled to talk to Scully.

“Mulder?” she questions-- not tickled to find him there. Big consequences-- huge-- if this gets out. 

“I was just in the neighborhood.” 

“Mulder, you can’t just flout orders like this. It’s not like old times-- Kersh isn’t going to tolerate this.” 

“Kersh doesn’t need to know.”

“Mulder….” 

It’s like old times: Mulder sneaking off to the sea somewhere, unable to let the evidence get away yet unwilling to take Scully down with him (ex. Tooms, Triangle, etc.) And like old times, he knows he can completely trust her: “You need me out here, Scully, you know that better than anyone.”

But a neat little twist happens (the second for Mulder in a span of hours): Scully agrees with him, openly-- “I hate to say, as of this morning, I’d have to agree”-- so openly that he immediately realizes she’s been sneaking around, too.

“Who’s flouting orders-- you found something, didn’t you, in that victim’s body? The virus?” 

It’s a delightful little punch of character work, a reminder to the audience that Scully has grown since Mulder’s abduction-- that she is willing to take leaps separate from her partner (old and new) in order to follow her own instincts. In this case, conducting Simon de la Cruz’s autopsy instead of shipping the body back wholesale to Mexico, weaseling around top-down commands in order to do so. Mulder takes this in stride, without comment: it's just enough like "old times"-- as he mentioned in the previous post-- that he can lose track of the differences in his post-abduction reality.

“Yes, I did; and it’s dead, Mulder.” 

“Dead? What killed it?” Puzzled, sucked into another mystery, he swipes at his nose, churning through variables. 

“Possibly radiation.”

“But that’s not possible--”

“I know,” Scully cuts in, not wanting to waste a precious second. “And this could be an isolated event, but that he’s infected at all means that everybody out there could be at risk. And that means you and Agent Doggett.” 

She stresses 'you', here, but the original purpose of her call was to back up Doggett-- an excellent carry-over from Medusa, and a neat little foreshadowing of the guilt complex she will battle in Alone. Even so, she, again, stresses 'you' because Mulder's unaccounted for presence has thrown a wrench in her subterfuge.

“We got to quarantine this rig,” Mulder decides. 

“No, Mulder-- you need to get off the rig.”

His face shifts, tongue lapping his lips as Scully offers up a faulty alternative.

“Have Agent Doggett give the order. We can quarantine you and the crew when we get back there.” 

“Scully, if these men are infected, the last place we want them is onshore where they can infect other people. You’re sitting on the answer right there, Scully. The body: you can find the virus, you can find what knocks it out, you can find what kills it.” 

Uncomfortably, she shifts, eyes clouding over, voice strained. “And what if I can’t?”-- the old undertow that steals her confidence from time to time, the one she battled in his absence (i.e. Patience, Badlaa, etc.), rears its ugly head.

And this, this is the moment Mulder realizes the costs of his position: tilting his head, he contemplates the possibility of his death, troubled--

--then freezes, looking up at the sky as he remembers his child. 

“When he, uh,” Mulder begins, closing his eyes and wincing over his words, “when he gets old enough, tell the kid I went down swinging.” His tone is no longer evocative, insistent, or charged… in fact, his voice has dropped a few decibels and sounds someplace close to defeated. 

In the fervor of saving the world, chasing the truth, hounding after the "Them" that continually puppet and destroy the lives of others, he forgot about the one person who can’t take care of itself, who utterly and wholly relies on him (and Scully.) In Three Words, Mulder knew the baby was his (posts here and here) but was too consumed with staying afloat to fully embrace the child, let alone the responsibility of having someone else rely on him. He was afraid, moreover, to drag Scully and the baby down with him. In Empedocles, he and his partner had a talk off-screen (post here) that prepared him for the next step: a present at the apartment, a hand on her belly, a commitment to the child in the form of a Mulder family heirloom. And now he’s here, commitment is staring him in the face. As Mulder feared in Three Words, he is letting Scully and the baby down. The only recourse left (is to solve the case, save the day, and get home in one piece. 

But what about next time? Who can he rely on to save the world in his stead? It’s a question Mulder has to confront and come to terms with-- and one he does (or attempts to do) in Vienen’s final scene.

Scully immediately heaves a sigh at his words-- refusing, absolutely refusing to engage with this hypothetical-- and orders him, “Let me talk to Agent Doggett.” Whenever Mulder gives up, it’s usual for Scully to step up to the plate and drag him to reason… however, it’s new that she asks for someone else in his stead. Is she replacing him, considering his opinion less than or his tactics faulty? No: she is simply doing everything she can to make sure the father of her child makes it off that rig. 

Her partner, meanwhile, resents that Doggett’s advice would be worth her attention. “Agent Doggett’s not here right now.”

“Yes, I am,” barks Doggett, a frowning, sturdy figure in the doorway. When he demands, “Who’s on the radio?” Mulder brushes him off-- plopping the headphones down, flailing his arms, and stalking out of the room-- without disconnecting the channel.

It’s likely, perhaps, that Doggett could have talked to Agent Scully if he hadn’t followed Mulder out, incensed again. So, did one agent storm and shrug off the other, on purpose, to draw the bull away with a flag?

BATTLE PLANS

“Who you talkin’ to?” Doggett insists, escalating to a sharp, “Hey!” when he isn’t answered. 

“That was Agent Scully.”

“What’d she say?”

Mulder keeps walking, facing away as they head into a sheet of steam. “She said it was lucky that I’m out here.”  

“No, you’re lucky I’m lettin’ you stay.” Stressed, wired, and at his limit, Doggett reroutes his voice from its taut, wounded note to a hushed, firm one. “You got information important to this investigation, then I better well know about it. I’m in charge out here, Agent Mulder.” 

Again, Mulder responds to that transparently commanding appeal, turning around and looking his compatriot directly in the eye. 

“Alright, then go ahead and take charge. Only you might not like what it means in this case. What you’re going to have to do with that information you’re so anxious to have.”

And, while the dialogue and marked lack of a response isn’t… the best writing, the challenge is clear: here’s your shot, prove me wrong. 

Agent Doggett, sensing that challenge, is ill at ease; but he takes up the gauntlet, regardless, and leads the lock-down debriefing on the rig. Mulder hangs back, respecting his position-- approving, silently; and when Doggett walks over later, he invites him along without second thought to locate one of the missing crewmen. 

It’s the barest whiff of camaraderie, but both men seem to have struck a bargain for another test drive. 

Fresh off of quarantine orders, replacement agent wants answers: “So, what are you hoping to find, Agent Mulder? Honestly?” 

As they talk shop, Mulder finally begins to share theories-- or shadows of theories, opening up the more Doggett takes his answers in stride. It’s the same method Agent Doggett used on newly un-parterned Scully, one that seems to work well on both Spookys.

Still, all they’re working off of is hunches; and Doggett isn’t too keen on building an investigation solely around guesswork-- particularly when it's Mulder's guesswork; and even more particularly when it shuts down an oil rig involved in a dicey American and Mexican territory dispute. 

“You know? I quarantine a whole oil rig without any evidence to support what you’re saying-- not one thing-- but you still have yet to give me a straight answer as to what you think is going on out here. If these men are hiding something, if they’re protecting something, what is it?” 

“I don’t know yet,” Mulder confesses.

“And when you do, let me know-- 'cause I’ve got to get on the radio to justify this action.” Mirroring their walkabout before, Doggett switches up positions by taking the lead.

And like before, Mulder takes up pursuit-- but this time, he hangs back a second, struggling internally. This time, he has to confront an uncomfortable truth: if he's going to work with Doggett, he's going to have to trust him a bit more-- a precursor to that leap of faith. This time, Mulder must acknowledge that two are still better than one, even if the other half of the team is not someone he cares to confide in-- even if he, himself, is technically no longer part of the team.

What would mucking up the potential of the case through reticence prove? And truthfully, that wasn't (and isn't) his goal, regardless-- but he still needs to communicate this; and to communicate this, Mulder has to stop clinging to a bruised ego and admit to his own shortcomings, baring the fragility of his theories to the new X-Files head for assessment and judgment. In short, he must be vulnerable.

“Agent Doggett,” he calls out, “I didn’t come out here just to bust you. I’m telling you, I’ve seen this substance. I’ve seen how it can take over a man’s body. This crew could be infected and not even know it. They may have no idea they’re being controlled.” 

Giving him a processing, though still skeptical look, Doggett leans over, swipes some oil on his finger, and purses his lips as he prods, “This? This is what you’re saying is going to take over my body?”

Mulder jostles his head, annoyed and uncomfortable. 

“Well,” Doggett continues, “when’s it going to kick in?” 

Mouth clenched, the oil expert shakes his head stiffly. “That’s not how it works,” he insists softly. “It body jumps from man-to-man; and I’m not sure that it’s in all oil.” 

Turning sarcastic at Mulder’s uncertainty, Agent Doggett adds, “Well, that’s a relief, because only ninety percent of the planet is dependent on the stuff.” 

This statement snaps the disparate pieces together; and Mulder's face hardens in realization: the representative of Galpex oil lied. 

“What, he’s infected, too?” Doggett snips; but his asides and warnings-- “You’re reaching, Agent Mulder”-- are lost in the other's madcap rambling. Finally, he turns to leave, only stopping with restraint as Mulder calls after him.

“Agent Doggett! What, wh-what, what if that’s why this man is hiding-- Diego Garza-- because he knows what they’re up to; and he knows what they’re up to because he’s the only one who’s not infected with this alien virus?” 

“Alright, he knows,” Doggett concedes, willing to play along. “Why doesn’t he just come down and tell us?” 

And suddenly, without warning, an alarm blares out across the rig. Doggett takes off, but it’s Mulder who passes him up and arrives at their destination first. 

The radio room is on fire.

CONCLUSION

And there we have it-- progress has been made.

Now: into the inferno.

Thanks for reading~

Enjoy!

[glamfellens]

astarion: its always a pleasure to see you sauntering over 😏

aeres:

[starbuck]

oh right, i was gonna say this, about my lovers:

the reason i want their marriage to fail is because i know that he would never eat her out. that’s the entire reason. i feel like an ideal situation would be that they stay married, but she also has a live-in girlfriend who treats her right. this will not happen, but i can dream.

additionally, in the other case, i KNOW that he gives her at least eight orgasms every night, so i’m not mad about it.

[ocdhuacheng]

What is going on in ur little dog brain pochita…….

[darabeatha]

These are his cacao beans

[poobit]

i have many thoughts on how Mouthwashing handles the themes of abuse and the symbolism around it especially as a survivor ... im not gnna hold back so -

first of all i think since its clear the point Jimmy is dismissive of Anya´s personhood and his perception is warped towards what he does as a Captain rather than what he does as a man, it makes sense she doesnt get her own labyrinth or such , i cant argue around that because its realistic he´s so male focused he cant even bother to truly think about what he did to her, i would love it if Wrong Organ decides to do a side story vignette of her own perspective and view in the future if the game proves its successful enough for side content like that.

Assault is something usually not handled with subtlety in games, i think what struck me the most was how real the dialogue of her coping and suicidal ideations and how Curly responded to it felt , the dancing around the subject, the deflection, the "whats next" of the ever impending consequence of pregnancy, how Anya pleads for help from the person she trusts but nonetheless a man unequipped and too emotionally attached to the abuser to be able to confront him, its so real, Curly´s lack of initiative is something Jimmy fully takes advantage of the moment things dont go his way, he turns everyone against him even as a helpless body on a bed because he needed to be in control of the situation, thats what abusers do.

A more sensationalistic game would have easily played Anya´s helplessness and assault for shock for sure, because it would be easy, she is the archetypical victim trope, shes modeled in Wendy Torrance likeness from The Shining, shes meek and unsure of herself and Jimmy shoots her down from the very beginning to make her feel unqualified and cornered, but the furthest the games goes is making Jimmy terror towards the pregnancy and the baby as a boogeyman that crawls and tramples over him. No sights of bleeding legs or her crying or screaming and much less present objectification of her body (which is something that i always think the horror genre has such a struggle not grabbing onto, sexuality is mostly always played up in assault stories especially if the victim is an adult woman), she remains a fully clothed figure and maintains the agency to her own demise, away from Jimmy and beside Curly, which is tragic and obviously still a symptom of horror´s proclivity to back female characters into corners of self inflicted punishment, but the alternative would have been that sooner or later, Jimmy would have killed her.

Its clear to me that the game used Curly´s state as a way to put a barrier between Jimmy and Anya, we dont objectify Anya, but we objectify Curly, Anya doesnt just feel pained and unable to handle Curly´s medication because shes in a sensitive state, her comments about his noises and such draws a line between her trauma and her perception of things as Her fault, she cant handle hearing his struggles and cries trying to swallow a pill because it reminds her of her own helplessness, so she leaves the task to Jimmy, someone who has no qualms in forcing someone down, the emphasis of every treatment as a repetitive process and the sound design is all very poignant and for me, a great way to handle assault as a metaphor, Curly did not consent to being in this position, it is very much still Jimmy´s fault and the fact that Jimmy is basically keeping him alive against his will even to the last moment of the game says everything, Jimmy doesnt love Curly the same way he doesnt love Anya.

The horses are not lost on me, i think horses as animals are often seen as "viril" symbols, strong and often volatile, they can be often hard to mount but when one does the rider and animal are seen as this one all powerful entity, like centaurs, which also carry symbolism of assaulters mind you, so while maybe not intentional on the dev´s part i think it still points to the Horse as a symbol still important in the game, the only spoken audio lines of dialog come from the Pony Express mascot Polle itself, and they are the first to actually confront Jimmy´s self centered line of thought and over-focusing on Curly, if the Tulpar is akin to a beast of a burden then Jimmy beat the dead horse way long ago.

All in this to say that Mouthwashing was a really good experience and i really hope the dev team is interested on expanding a bit more on it because i trust their vision.

[cevansbrat0007]

The Anatomy of an Orgasm

Summary: You make the mistake of faking an orgasm while in bed with Ari...

Warnings: Light Angst, Mature Themes, Ari Being A Menace, Smut, Oral Sex (fem rec), Fake Orgasms, Stubborn Reader, Hurt Feelings, Cursing, Minors DNI

A/N: Prompt courtesy of @writer84. Takes place early in Ari and Bird's relationship. Part of my Sweet Renegade Series. Semi-proofread, not beta'd. All mistakes are my own. Likes, comments, and reblogs are always appreciated. Thanks for reading!

When you think back to the early days of your relationship, one thing that always surprises you is just how perceptive this man could be sometimes – especially when it came to you. Even now, that man continues to watch you like a hawk, taking in your every movement. 

And listening to your every word.

You know it’s because he’s trying to anticipate your needs. Every day he wakes up, Ari Levinson strives to be the man you need him to be. Your safety and security are of paramount importance to him. He’s the type of man to take on your worries as his own. The type of man to help you master your fears. Over time he’s become more than just your champion. He’s also your biggest cheerleader. 

Which is why there’s this expectation that now exists between the two of you – one forged by trust, as well as honest and open communication. And while this is something that seems to come easy to your bounty hunter, sometimes it proves to be a little more challenging for you. 

It’s hard not to bottle everything up. It’s natural for you to simply stuff things down and wait until everything exploded later.

Because up until this point, you’d never had someone with whom you could share the weight of your world – even though Ari continues to show you that nothing is too much for his broad shoulders to carry. 

Tonight you’re lying in bed on your back, your legs draped over Ari’s muscled shoulders. His handsome face is currently buried between your thighs while he makes a meal out of your pussy. Your spine arches when you feel him suck your swollen clit between his lips, applying just pressure to have your eyes rolling back in your head. 

Or at least it would…if you could get yourself to relax enough to actually enjoy it.

“Taste so good, baby.” Your man rasps once he releases you, taking a moment to press a hot, open-mouthed kiss along the curve of your inner thigh.

“Uh huh.” You mumble, throwing your arm over your eyes as he gets back to his dessert. 

Ari nuzzles your dripping cunt with the tip of his nose, growling when he’s rewarded with a soft whine from you. And you can’t stop your hips from bucking when he slowly spears two thick fingers inside you, pumping them in and out in time with his wicked tongue. 

Any other time you would’ve been well on your way to your second orgasm, if not coasting along to your third. But every time you try to give over the pleasure, your traitorous mind keeps deciding to wander...

Sales at the bookstore were down this month. And the latest series, featuring a brand new, up-and-coming author, hadn’t performed anywhere near as well as you’d initially thought it would. Which was surprising to say the least – especially since the woman had spent the last month being featured on virtually every single morning daytime talk show that promised her an audience. 

And then there was all the shit you had on backorder. Items that were effectively stuck in limbo until the day they finally arrived on your doorstep. Hopefully sometime before next year.

You remind yourself to moan when Ari picks up his pace, your hips writhing beneath him as you try to hide the fact you’re becoming increasingly distracted. But try as you might, the disconnect between your mind and your body only continues to grow. 

A sharp cry escapes your throat when you feel his fingers curl, delicately stroking that special place inside you that normally made sparks dance behind your eyes. 

“That’s it, little Bird.” Ari grunts, his eager tongue lashing against your clit. “Be a good girl and cum for me. Wanna taste it.”

Yeah, there was no way you were gonna get there tonight. Not like this. 

“Give it to me, baby.” He orders again. “Right fuckin’ now.” 

At a loss for what else to do, you bear down, desperately clenching around him in what you hope is a believable performance. “Oh god, Beast!” You repeat the action again and again, making sure to accompany it with several breathy little sighs.

“Wow.” You breathe once Ari finally releases his grip on your hips. Now that you’re free, you quickly scoot away and begin searching for your discarded panties, which wasn’t typical behavior for you. You were more the type that preferred to bask in bliss.

But not tonight. Because you’d just faked an orgasm with this gorgeous man.

Right now you felt sweaty and awkward, and you needed space to breathe. You refuse to even look in Ari’s direction as you hastily begin to redress, lest he see right through you. 

"That was great." You mumble lamely.

“What are you–where are you goin’?” A pang of guilt hits you when you note the confusion in his tone. 

“Huh?” You slip his t-shirt over your head. He wouldn’t mind that you were leaving him half-naked, since he was wearing his boxer briefs. “I’m just gonna…go clean up. Maybe work off some of this excess energy.”

That last sentence has you inwardly face palming. What a stupid thing to say to a man like Ari Levinson. 

“Hey, come back here a second…” You watch out of the corner of your eye as he sits up in bed. At times like this you were reminded that the man in your bed was also a detective, which meant he came equipped with a sixth sense for bullshit. 

Mainly yours.

“Stay here and relax.” You tell him, making your way towards the door. “I just…know I won’t be able to sleep knowing I left behind a sink full of dirty dishes.” 

“C’mere first.”

Shaking your head, you head for the stairs. At that moment, even the underlying authority in his voice wasn’t enough to make you obey. You always seemed to find a sense of calm when you cleaned. Fingers crossed that it worked tonight.

You’re gifted with a whopping ten minutes to yourself before you hear your man lumbering down the stairs. Rinsing a plate under hot water, you hope that he’s only stopping in for a glass of water and not because he wants to talk. 

Grimacing, you move on to the next soiled piece of dishware, scrubbing vigorously. Your back remains turned, just as it had upstairs. Perhaps if you avoided eye contact he would simply grab his beverage and go on his merry way. 

“Bird.” 

Your beloved pet name rumbles from somewhere deep in his chest. However, you refuse to look at him, seemingly content to focus on the task at hand. 

“Clean glasses are in the cupboard.” 

“Hey.“ You startle when you feel two large, warm hands settle on your hips, followed by the soft skim of lips along the curve of your ear. “Stop.” 

“But I’m not done.” You mumble, blinking back tears for some stupid reason you can’t quite name. “Everything needs to be dried and put away. I haven’t swept or wiped anything down. And it’s been a couple days since I mopped.”

“Baby, your kitchen is always spotless. Now I’m askin’ you to dry your hands and come talk to me.”

“I’m not sure we have anything to talk about.” You hedge, wishing he’d just leave you be – even as you dutifully move to do as he requests.

“Yeah?” Ari gives you a comforting squeeze, willing you to relax against his bare chest. “Well, you could start by explainin’ just what what the hell happened back in bed.”

“Nothing happened.”

“My entire goddamned point.” Comes his gruff response. “That wasn’t you back there, baby.”

“Not sure I know what you’re talking about.” Squirming out of his embrace, you attempt to put some distance between you and him using your kitchen island as a buffer.

Ari sighs, tipping back his head to briefly stare at the ceiling. His big body remains tense as he struggles to get you to open up and tell him the truth. “Was I too rough with you? Are you…are you sore?”

That familiar pang of guilt returns full-force now, because of course your sweet Beast would be the kind of man to blame himself for the issues you’d experienced in the bedroom. It was just who he was. 

“No.” You swiftly respond before wrapping your arms around your middle. “I’m sorry I left so abruptly. I–I was focused on the kitchen. But I swear I’ll make it up to you.” And now you feel even worse for having abandoned him with a hard-on.

“Why are you fuckin’ lying to me?”

“I-I’m not.”

Your teeth begin to worry your bottom lip as you watch his demeanor change. His clouded blue eyes narrow as his nostrils flare, followed by that signature tick in his jaw. 

“Tell me you didn’t just fake it with me earlier. Look my in the eyes and fuckin’ tell me you gave something real back in that bed and I’ll leave it alone.”

You immediately avert your gaze. Because you honestly didn’t have it in your heart to keep lying to this man. He deserved better. And frankly, so did you. 

“Eyes on me, Bird.” He orders, demanding your full attention. “Open up that pretty mouth and start talkin’.” Sometimes this man had the patience of a saint. 

“I’m sorry.” You finally admit, wincing as the words come pouring out. “You weren’t supposed to–” You clamp your mouth shut and force yourself to pivot. “I didn’t think you’d be able to tell.”

Ari is quiet for a moment as confusion and disappointment radiate from his much larger form. 

“Why’d you do it?” 

“I’m sorry.” Unsure of what to do with all your nervous energy, you remove the tie from your hair to run your fingers through your curls. “I–I’ve never done it before. And I shouldn’t have done it tonight. I…” You glance down at your bare toes, wishing that the ground would simply open up and swallow you whole where you stood.

“Eyes.” Ari demands, making you jump slightly. “Damn it, baby. We’re gonna have a hell of a time making this shit work if you go mute every time there’s an issue.”

“It has nothing to do with you!” You manage to stop yourself just short of screaming. “I already said I was sorry, okay? Like, what more do you want from me?”

“And I want you to tell me when you suddenly decided to fake your pleasure with me!” He snarls, his brawny arms crossing his chest. “You claim you’ve never done it before. So what the hell made tonight so special?”

Yeah, he was fucking pissed. And what’s worse is that he had every reason to be. Because you’d hurt him. 

“Unless you’re lying to me. Again.” He continues when you refuse to answer. 

“I’m not.” You sniffle, dragging a weary hand across your face. “What you and I have – swear to God, Beast – it’s amazing. Explosive. Sometimes it feels like it’s too much to handle.” When all you receive is a grunt for your trouble, you take that as permission to keep going. 

“And tonight was no exception, it’s just…” You pause long enough to steady your breathing. “It felt like my body and my brain were totally disconnected. And no matter how hard I tried to relax and let myself feel good, I just couldn’t.”

Ari continues to stare you down as that tick in his jaw continues to work overtime.

“I’ve faked it before, with the others. Th–they didn’t know.” Neither Mason, nor the only other man you’d ever been with had seemed to notice whenever you’d been less than honest with them in bed.

“So you didn't think that I'd know. Jesus Christ.” He hisses, bracing himself on the edge of the counter. “Well, I hate to break it to you, sweetheart, but I ain’t them.” He levels you with a hard look. “I know you, know your body. I’ve memorized what you look like when you cum, the little noises you make, the way your gorgeous body bends and your pretty toes curl.”

Your eyes flutter closed as he speaks, which is why you fail to notice when he begins to round the corner – like a predator stalking his prey.

“I know what you taste like on my tongue. Know what it feels like to have that greedy pussy gush around me while your heels dig into my back. Even when you tap out, you best be sure that she always wants more.”

When you open your eyes it’s to see Ari looming over you. But you’re not intimidated, because deep down you know he would never hurt you, even though you’d just hurt him. However, you’re surprised when he reaches up to cup your face with both hands.

“I know these things…” Your bounty hunter rasps, his voice sounding almost hoarse. “Because I know you. I know my woman.” A lone tear falls, slowly gliding its way down your check before Ari dashes it away with his thumb.

“It wasn’t you, Beast.” You rush to reassure him, even as you move to bury your face in the wall of his sculpted chest. “I’ve just been so worried about the store – it’s been a slow month. And I’m still waiting on an order from two months ago. And tonight it was like no matter how much I tried to forget and refocus…I just couldn’t.”

“Hmph.” He grunts, but not before pressing a gentle kiss to the top of your head. “Why do you think I’m always on your stubborn little ass to talk to me?”

“I know.” Your words come out muffled. 

“If you’re not in the mood, or there’s too much going on in the beautiful brain, I want you to fuckin’ talk to me about it.” Without warning, he lifts you with impressive ease to set you on the counter. 

“I know.” Another tear escapes, but Ari is quick to wipe it away. “But I don’t want to disappoint you.”

“Disappoint me how?” He scoffs, briefly resting his forehead against your own.

“If you want sex and I don’t or I can’t, then –” 

“Then I’ll handle that shit like a man.” Ari swiftly interrupts. “Baby, it’s like you breathe in my general direction and I’m fuckin’ hard. But if the moment’s not working for you, either because you’re tired or you got worries, I want you to fuckin’ talk to me. Don’t fake an orgasm to try and soothe my ego.”

Wordlessly you nod as you go to wrap your arms around his neck, drawing him closer. You feel yourself relax when he pulls you into his warm embrace. It was the first time you’d been able to do so all evening. 

“It won’t happen again. Just…please don’t leave tonight.” Your voice sounds so small and fragile it takes you by surprise. 

“Aw, I ain’t goin’ anywhere, pretty Bird.” One of his hands begins to rub soothing circles along your lower back. Later, you would learn that that thought had never even crossed his mind. “Consider this water under a fuckin’ bridge.” 

You continue holding each other for a while longer, content to bask in the comforting silence. If there was never any doubt as to why you were coming to care so deeply for this man, those thoughts had all been dashed tonight.

In fact, if you weren’t careful, you just might be tempted to fall in love with this man. 

“C’mon back upstairs.” Ari murmurs a little while later, but not before capturing your lips with a gentle kiss. “Let’s get you into a shower, I’ll even help you wash your hair.” 

At his urging, you'd shown him how to do a quick co-wash a couple weeks ago, and now he was hooked. Not that you were complaining.

“Okay.” You nod, unable to stop yourself from melting.

“Tomorrow, we’ll talk about the shop. Maybe brainstorm some ideas about how to fix things, or at least cushion the blow.” Again you nod, feeling more at peace with the world than you had the last several days. 

Reaching for your hand, you lace your fingers through his and allow yourself to be led back up the stairs, leaving the dishes and the rest of your chores undone. You had more important things to see to, right now. 

And, perhaps, a little more apologizing to do.

END

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[parfaitblogs]

daylight ❀ s. reid x reader

in which communicating with your boyfriend is scary, and spencer reid can't stand to see you cry.

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader genre: comfort/fluff! tags: reader avoids her issues... for a little bit. that's kind of it. it's just fluffy and simple! word count: 1.5k a/n: something short & sweet because i thought it was cute and i write the most when i'm procrastinating assignments... um… inspired by a conversation sam willow and i were having a few nights ago🫂 reminder that pretty girls cry when they’re confronting somebody!!

Spencer Reid was not oblivious to all things in the world. In fact, he was rather perceptive compared to most people. Psychology degree and human behaviour-based job aside, he noticed things. 

A lot of it was good. He knew exactly how to wake you up on mornings he started earlier than you. How to keep you half-asleep enough to allow you your return to sleep, but also awake enough to ensure you'd remember him kissing you goodbye (there had been an argument a few months ago about it — you thought he had left without a word). He knew your go-to Thai order from the restaurant down the street, and he knew which pair of wooden chopsticks your favourite were to pull out of his kitchen drawers. 

He was also observant enough to know something was wrong. 

He was back from a case. A long one, that had worn him down enough that he felt like a pile of creaking bones when he re-entered his apartment earlier that afternoon. You had returned from your own job an hour after that, and despite the initial excitement that came from your boyfriend being back in the state again, you were a bundle of nerves. 

And he knew that.

You were on his couch, legs across his lap and back up against the arm, his hands resting comfortable in the dip between your two knees. There was a quiet episode of New Girl playing on the television (you had convinced him to watch it after he had sat you through every Star Trek movie), but your thoughts were anywhere but the sitcom you had been using to entertain yourself as of recent. 

"You've been awfully quiet," Spencer said, piercing the less than comfortable air settled around you two. 

"Sorry," you answered, tearing your gaze from the screen to look at him, meeting a worried expression you had somewhat expected. 

Hands ran up and down your legs, erupting goosebumps along the skin. "Is something wrong?" 

"No," you immediately shook your head and forced a smile onto your face. "Nothing's wrong."

He furrowed his eyebrows, lips parting in that confused look he always had on his face when he was thinking, and he stared at you for a few seconds longer, before, "Yes there is."

Profilers. "Seriously, Spence. There isn't. I'm just kind of tired tonight."

"I am as well," he said, hands stilling on your legs rather abruptly. "I was in Idaho for a week. I'm also exhausted. And usually my girlfriend is a little touchier and more talkative than this when I come home. So I'm assuming something's wrong."

"You're assuming incorrectly, then," your shoulders shrugged.

He said your name chidingly, and it was at that tone of voice that you retracted your legs from his lap, instead tucking your feet beneath yourself, gaze dropping to the couch cushion. 

"I just missed you," you told him, a slight stretch of the truth. 

"I missed you too," he said, and your shoulders softened. "But that's not all it is."

You blinked, before you fell silent, shaking your head instead. 

"Talk to me. What's happened?" his voice was achingly soft, your heart shattering in your chest to the point you wanted to take back every thought you'd had over the past week and burn them to ashes. They didn't mean much now in front of him. Not when he was reminding you of how kind he was. 

"You barely talked to me," you said, hands dropping to your lap, and you fidgeted with them under his gaze. "I never knew what was going on. You didn't call once, except for when you landed."

"I was really busy, honey," he answered, and you could hear the frown in his voice. "If I had time to do anything other than the case and sleep, you know I'd have talked to you more." 

"I know," your voice shook, and you could feel your emotions overriding your brain. As usual. So, you kept your head down. "But I would've liked you to tell me that, at least."

You heard him sigh, and curiosity got the best of you as you lifted your gaze, inspecting to see if he was sighing out of irritation or not. He wasn't — just exhaustion — and that made you feel a little better.

"I know for next time then," he said, and he met your eyes, which had watered since the last time he looked at you. Which wasn't very long ago, and so he was drawing his eyebrows together, again, confusedly. "What's that? What's wrong?"

On instinct he leaned forwards, and you let him shift his body closer to yours, hands coming up on either side of your neck. You sniffled, trying to suck the tears threatening to fall back into your eye sockets. 

"I can't communicate," you mumbled, quietly, a tear escaping and dripping down to the lower half of your cheek. 

"You communicated pretty well just then, angel," he said, voice soft as he caught the remainder of the tear and swiped it away with his thumb. 

"Yeah but—but now I'm crying," you moaned, pathetically, more tears slipping down your face. His lips twitched — though not in humour, you noted — as he adjusted his hands to your jaw, thumbs continuing to wipe falling tears. 

"Yeah. That's okay," he answered. "You've got a flood of hormones going through you right now, and so your body reacts to it in the best way it sees fit. In your case, it's tears."

"I hate it," you mumbled, and this time he did laugh a little, nodding his head. 

"I know," he said. "Are you feeling embarrassed about communicating with me?"

"I guess," you replied. "I don't know. I think I just..." you trailed off as your voice disappeared, breath beginning to hyperventilate acutely. "I—I just feel kind of sil—silly."

You cursed each sob that broke up your speech, and yet his gaze and focus on you never once wavered. In fact, his touch seemingly had grown softer, and the concern in his eyes had only grown. 

"You aren't silly," he said, once he was sure you weren't going to continue speaking. "If me not talking to you for a week upset you, I'd say that's pretty reasonable."

"I don't know..."

"Want a secret?" he asked, fingers poking into your cheeks enough for you to crack a small smile. You only nodded your head in response, chest still jolting with each sharp intake of breath. "I have to physically restrain myself from calling you every hour on a normal day."

"You're lying," you mumbled, and his smile only widened, a bashful laugh leaving his lips. 

"No, honestly. I have so much I want to talk to you about during the day, and I need to remind myself that you're busy and at work too."

A few uncontrollable tears dripped down your face, and your gaze dropped to the top of his shirt, though the smile never left your face. "I don't believe you."

"I wish you would, but that's okay," he said, evidently seeing right through your defying statement — you believed him a little.

His forefinger and thumb caught your chin, and he tilted your head back up so his eyes could meet your glassy ones. 

"I'm sorry," you murmured, before he could get a word in.

"For what?"

"Crying."

"Do you take in anything I say to you?" he chastised, though the smile on his face eliminated any fear of him being genuinely irritated, and so your shoulders simply shrugged. 

"Sometimes," you said, and his eyebrows shot up. 

"Sometimes?" he repeated back to you, and you had to bite your lip to keep the amused expression off your face. He was smiling back at you, before his face settled into something more serious, as he continued, "I don't mind you crying, angel. It breaks my heart to see it, but I'm not sitting here and judging you for it. You know that, right?"

"Yeah."

"Good," he finalised with a short nod, and you sniffled with a nod of your own. 

"I mean, technically, crying is good," you said, tongue poking between your teeth as you forced back a smile. 

"Yeah? Why's that?" 

"Releases endorphins and oxytocin."

He huffed a single laugh through his nose, nodding his head. "Yes. It does."

"I know things," you grinned. 

"You do," he agreed with a nod. "My smart girl."

"Yeah. Don't ever forget it."

"I could never," he replied, and a comfortable silence enveloped your two bodies, your heart fluttering in your chest. 

"Can you tell me about Idaho?" you finally asked him.

"You really want to know?" 

You nodded your head, and he sighed, but complied regardless. And you eventually found your head in his lap, staring up at him as one hand danced gently over the skin of your slightly exposed stomach, the other entangled in your hair, brushing through it. 

And he told you about the case he had been away on — it became glaringly obvious behind why he hadn't called or messaged you at all — and consequently eased any other remaining worries behind it.

And it dried your tears up.

your reblogs and replies are always appreciated ♡

[mac-tirs]

the usage of different types of english in elden ring

most human/tarnished NPCs we meet, like rogier, ansbach, and nepheli, use late modern english:

"a sorcerer, as you might have guessed. i'm looking for a little something, here in the castle. when i'm not hotfooting it from the troops, that is." - rogier, first meeting "general radahn. a pleasure to see you, after all this time. but those remains do not belong to you." - ansbach, upon summon for PCR

but older demigods like messmer, ranni, and morgott use early modern english:

"thou'rt tarnished, it seemeth. mother, wouldst thou truly lordship sanction, in one so bereft of light? yet… my purpose standeth unchanged." - messmer, pre-battle cutscene "thou needst not indulge them unduly, but they too wish to appraise thy worth. it hath been a passing long time since a newcomer entered my service, after all." - ranni, after agreeing to serve her

then there are the younger demigods, like miquella, malenia, and potentially melina, who use a later variant of modern english, similar to the tarnished NPCs we speak to:

"if we honour our part of the vow, promise me you'll be my consort. i'll make the world a gentler place." - miquella, post-PCR cutscene "the scarlet bloom flowers once more. you will witness true horror. now, rot!" - malenia, phase 2 transition cutscene

finally, the hornsent NPCs like the hornsent, hornsent grandam, and the hornsent spirits such as the one outside the whipping hut, who use late middle english similar to the english found in shakespeare's sonnets:

"fie, another? ... then, as that woman would surely say, we are in our purposes well aligned. but understand. your kind are not forgiven. the erdtree is my people's enemy. by marika long betray'd, set aflame." - hornsent, first meeting "all your resentment lingers yet... the raw stuff from which i shall surely forge a curse. upon the dastard messmer's head. upon marika's children each and all." - scorched ruins hornsent spirit

i find it interesting how different the usage of english is in the game, and i feel that it can be a hint on how to properly date an individual's occupation in the lands between/land of shadow. the hornsent, being a people much older than many in the lands between, use the most archaic version of english, while the tarnished and younger demigods use a form of english more closely related to our own in the current period. older demigods (and marika herself, as heard from melina's recounts of marika's spoken echoes) use a form of english more closely related to the period of transition from middle english to early modern english.

additionally, another interesting thing to me: mohg is almost certainly nearly the same age as morgott (since they're referred to as twins), yet he speaks a little differently compared to morgott:

"tarnished, thou'rt but a fool." - morgott, post-battle dialogue "dearest miquella. you must abide alone a while." - mohg, pre-battle cutscene

this makes me wonder if it's possible that, assuming that miquella's verbiage is indicative of his younger age in comparison to the older demigods (aka the demigods born before the marika/radagon union), miquella's charm altered mohg's perception enough to also alter his manner of speaking and carrying himself in some way. if his pursuit of finery (dressing in embroidered robes and handling himself with poise, juxtaposing his bestial growls and strength) was mainly done in an effort to fit into miquella's ideal of a consort. of course, mohg could just be as vain as he seems to be all on his own accord, but i find that it's interesting to entertain the idea that even his current state of being was due to miquella's charm.

i'd love to hear what others think about this. i'm not very learned when it comes to english (it's not really my first language), but i find this all very cool to think about.

[scarletdreamers]

Still not over the fact that these are some of the most important and intimate lines from the show, yet everyone ignores them like they don't exist:

In the series itself (the final cut), these lines said by Alana and Hannibal while they are dining with Will are delivered a bit differently. In the final take they go like this:

A: ''They love and kill what they love.''

H: ''Then they eat what they love. It's a paradox.''

A: ''Freddie thinks the two of you are a paradox.''

After having said this, Alana suspiciously eyes both Hannibal and Will. Almost as if she knows there's something between them, but she can't figure out what it is. These lines are so important because they give an outsider point of view of Hannibal and Will's relationship. It shows that, at this point in the story, certain characters knew things they weren't supposed to know.

It also adds to their perception of the dynamic between Will and Hannibal. The dangerous pair they make, the desire to kill and even eat each other shows how unconventional and insane their bond is. How, not only tragic, but thrilling and strong whatever they have is. There's always a sense of underlying desires. Sensual danger that even the other characters can feel. They know something isn't right, and Alana's/Freddies take on their bond as a 'paradox' isn't even that far from the truth. It's actually really interesting to think of the feelings Hannibal and Will have for each other during that time in the story that way.

They really do make a very complicated paradox, knowing that they will betray each other, hurt each other, maybe even want to kill each other, but love each other anyway. That they love each other enough to want to ''eat'' each other ('they eat what they love') as a sense of fulfilment they might never reach. Not as long as they stay alive in a situation in which it's quite impossible for them to be together.

After that, we have the scene where they have dinner with just the two of them and 'prepare' Freddie, including this gorgeous shot:

A simple scene where they cook together. Hannibal hands Will a cooking knife (originally a product to use to prepare food, a deadly weapon given the right reason), which is an indirect throwback to the conversation they had with Alana. They merge love, death and eating in this scene. Hannibal's trust when he hands Will the knife. The blade pointed towards himself indicates betrayal and a violent shared history between them, depicted by the way the knife's tip is pointing at Hannibal's pink-ish red and raw scar. This scene is romantic, because Hannibal literally shows Will that he ''trusts him with his life'' by doing this.

Will is also hesitant about accepting the knife at first. His thumb hovers above it before he completely wraps his hand around the handle. He mistrusts himself with something as important and valuable as Hannibal's life, because he abused it before (his numerous attempts to kill or have Hannibal killed). He finally takes it, knowing and accepting that he doesn't want to kill Hannibal anymore for the sake of killing him. When he's given the choice, he wants Hannibal to run, to be free, maybe to join him eventually. He takes Hannibal's dangerous yet delicate life into his hands, that's when he chose Hannibal's side, despite everything he did to make Hannibal think otherwise.

In the dinner scene with Alana she also points out that she thinks they might not be the killers individually, but together. Holding a weapon at the same time for a few seconds too long proves her point. Their sharing of the knife without hurting one another means they are working together when it comes to violence and death. It's a sign of Will's corruption. A reflection of his true self in the silver of the blade. A mirror of violence and his own darkest urges.

Will and Hannibal are a paradox like a knife is a paradox. It nurtures, is used to prepare food which gives life, and is usually a friend, until it's used against you and suddenly becomes deadly. Their love is a double edged knife, being able to cause harm and grant help at the same time. It makes you wonder, do Hannibal and Will desire to kill each other because of their love, or rather in spite of it?

Anyway, I love Naka-Choko because of the insane tension throughout the whole episode. Had to share why I think that this quote is such a heavy yet romantic giveaway of their mutual feelings and bond, it's a shame it's so incredibly overlooked just like a few other really good lines in the show.

[nottragic-stilltoothsome]

Everything I found in Szarr's palace, for all your fanfiction-writting needs. I haven't found any other post like this one, so i hope i m not copying anyone. Posting it here, because editing the official wiki feels intimidating. Feel welcome to add anything I missed.

Astarion's siblings (the other spawn):

Petras - one of the two you meet in the Flophouse.

Dalyria - the other one from the two you meet in the flophouse. Her diary can be found in the "guest room". Before Cazador turned her, she was a doctor, a "Physician General to the Parliament of Baldur's Gate". She thinks vampirism is a disease and plans on curing herself of it by drinking blood of someone young and healthy - other spawn's daughter, Victoria.

Leon Onufrio - before Cazador turned him, Leon was a sorcerer. He is the one whose daughter's (Victoria's) body is found, cursed, in the room where with the Kozakuran dictionary.

Leon put a protective counter-curse on her, to discourage other spawns from attacking her. Despite his efforts, Dalyria bit her, hoping it'd cure her vampirism. Needless to say, it didn't and Victoria died @easterlingwanderer found out that if you use "speak with the dead" on the body, it turns out that it was a random urchin and Leon did get Victoria out of the city on time. After removing the curse inflicting you with necrotic demage, you can loot a letter of her body from her father instructing Victoria to read said dictionary, so she can freely move around the castle.

In the favoured spawn room, you can learn that Leon was the one usualy occupying it (along with his daughter). His diary reveals that he put extra effort to be Cazador's best hunter, so he can keep Victoria away from others and that he came up with a plan with Figaro to disguise and sneak Victoria out of the palace.

He also notes that he doesnt like the way Violet looks at Victoria and Cazador's wicked smile, when Leon asked him what his master was planning to do with his daughter.

Violet - you can find her Diary in the Dormitory of Spawn. She notes that she put garlic in Yousen bed as a prank.

Aurelia - a tiefling

Yousen - @neophytepagan noticed he is a gnome

Other:

The chamberlain of Cazador was Antwun Dufay. In his diary, which can be found under his bed in his room after a successful passive perception check, it says that he had a lover Lurianna (a werewolf, who can be found dead by walking through fake north wall of chamberlain's office, or through another fake wall in Chamberlain's private room). He knew about Cazador's Black Mass enough to fake his death in order to avoid the threat of taking Astarion's place. Unfortunately for him, it seems he confused the actual death potion and fake death potion, and really died. His lover drank the other potion, which melted her guts. The actual fake-death elixir can be found in his desk, which puts the player in 10-turn coma. He ordered the elixir from Bonecloaks', where he also ordered most of the things the palace needed to function (like bloodstain remover, candles and food for "guests").

Godey - Cazador's right hand. Astarion says that while Cazador was the master of the palace, the kennels (the room where the spawn d be tortured, when they did something Cazador didnt approve of) was the domain of Godey. Godey tortured the spawn when Cazador didnt feel like it. Cazador trusted Godey with the key to the sealed ballroom for the duration of the ritual.

Through the palace, fanatic-servants cleaning the palace: Syrin - human, Greenfern - wood half-elf, Vilhelm - human, Varderola - also human. All of them are servants, who Astarion said are devoted to Cazador and came to the palace of their own will, beggining Cazador to turn them into vampires. Vilhelm is most noteable, as you can talk to him and he asks Astarion why isn't he downstairs, that he is late and the ballroom is already locked. If pressed, he informs that Godey has a key and that the Cazador is going to punish Astarion for missing the ritual (and from his expression, he seems to quite like the thought).

Chamberlain Dufay wrote a blooddonnors ledger, instructing the Spawn to favourite the lower class as prey, as too many missing patriars may drow too much attention.

The language Cazador uses is Kozakuran, from a distant land of Kara-Tur. Astarion notes that they were strictly forbidden from learning it. From Cazador's Journal you can learn that Astarion was not an unreliable narrator when he said Cazador liked torturing him the most: Cazador paid the most attention to him in the journal.

In the favoured spawn room, there is a ledger with the list of spawns who have been favoured (its only Leon and one time Violet).

Amanita Szarr - on her 13th birthsday, invited by her Uncle Cazador. She was invited to the ballroom. She became a vampire, but was not happy about it. She rejected her family name Szarr and named herself Lady Incognita. She claims she stays in the attic and writes stories. One of the books written by her can be found on Cazador's desk.

Mrel Alkam - vampire mastress from Athkatla that Cazador wrote a letter to.

[factsilike]

As hilarious as it is to read about WWX initially being unable to perceive his own attraction to Lwj as anything other than the typical reactions of a woman, I wish more people would realise that it was not due to obliviousness, but rather because of compulsory heterosexuality and him simply not being aware such things existed. The time period he grew up in speaks for itself, as well as his unsafe (because the Jiang household was anything but secure) environment.

It was funny when it was treated as a crack idea, but it's frustrating when it's treated as a canon trait of his, when it's not. This guy is highly intelligent, both emotionally and intellectually, and the conclusions he came to regarding his own feelings as well as Lwj's were based on the information he had at the time. I see people point it out most in that scene at the start of the novel where Lwj gets drunk and points to WWX saying 'Mine."

But I can't believe how obtuse those same people are when they don't realise that while it's obvious to the reader (because duh they're reading a danmei novel about romance between the two main leads, and they let themselves be blinded by their own perceptions) that he's referring to WWX, to him it's not. Because what was he supposed to think? When all Lwj had ever been towards him was tolerant at best, and outright hostile at worst, and with his previous cold behaviour, was WWX really supposed to think, oh he must mean for me to be his! Because that would have made no sense at that part of the story. It was only logical for him to try to find a rational explanation, and the only one WWX could come to was that LWJ was referring to his sword, because obviously WWX wasn't going to take him seriously even if he had confessed, he would have only thought that he was drunk rambling or something. He didn't have any reason to believe him at that point.

It's not until the rest of the events of his second life progress and give WWX many opportunities and chances to reflect on his own feelings and Lwj's (changed and more affectionate) behaviour, does he start to think, could it be that I like him? Because WWX is no idiot; he realises his own feelings for Lwj pretty early on. And he catches onto Lwj's love for him too! Which is what the whole getting drunk at the inn thing before Guanyin Temple was about; he was scared to find out whether or not Lwj's love for him was platonic or not. (Which is a valid thing literally every person who has ever had a crush can relate to; worrying over whether the person of your affections feels the same or not. And it's difficult enough navigating these things in heterosexual relationships, let alone same-sex ones)

I think the way MXTX wrote WWX's journey of discovering his sexuality as well as his budding love for Lwj is beautiful and deserves more praise and recognition, rather than just glossed over as tee hee 'obliviousness'.

[wilteddreamsofbaldursgate]

I’m a fierce believer and defender of Smooth Brain Astarion (affectionate).

I love that, if left to his own devices, he ends up dead in a ditch. I love that this pasty menace of an elf is a walking disaster. I love that his brain produces one coherent thought per day, only to have it backfire on him later on. I love that his first choice in freedom is to unapologetically be the worst version of himself. Because it makes sense. 

That’s what abuse and trauma do to your brain—they fuck with it. 

And in Astarion’s defence, the man didn’t have to use his brain for nearly 200 years—it’s probably the very thing that kept him as alive as he can be; to survive 200 years of pure shit. 

And what use is his brain when his days and nights are dictated by someone else for as long as he can remember? When he has no say in what clothes he wears. When he doesn’t get to choose what or when to eat. When his body and mind aren’t his own, distorted by torture and hunger and self-loathing, forced to obey his vampiric master. Why use his brain when his survival depends exclusively on his abuser’s whims? 

Astarion could’ve come up with the most brilliant plan possible to escape Cazador or save a mark from their doom, but he never stood a chance of succeeding—which doesn’t mean that he didn’t get punished for trying (or even thinking about it) anyway.

Existing under Cazador was a game he couldn’t win, so why bother playing? 

And it’s only by chance that Astarion’s autonomy is returned to him literally overnight. It’s only natural that he’s overwhelmed by his newfound freedom. How is he expected to make sound decisions when he can’t even recall a time when he could do and say as he pleased? 

Of course Astarion is a walking disaster when he finds himself on that beach after the Nautiloid crash—and he’s fully aware of that! That’s why it’s so crucial for him to get on the player’s/other companion’s good side.

He’s self-aware enough to be so insecure about himself that he would rather trust a stranger’s capabilities than his own. 

Being a catastrophe of a person is part of Astarion’s character journey. Not only does he have to reclaim his personhood, he has to learn how to depend on his own brain again and I think that's such a painfully beautiful, important message Baldur’s Gate 3 sends. 

Because healing isn’t pretty. Nor is it easy.

You’re not alright the moment you’re free of whatever horrors you had to live through—and that’s ok! There’s time and room for you to adjust. 

And the moment Astarion feels more or less safe within his new environment, when he’s fed and treated like a person worthy of respect and consideration, his insights, skills and perception are crucial assets to the group.

Astarion knows his art and literature, and although his little remarks are unhinged at times, he's genuinely witty. Even his objections are, considering the circumstances, absolutely legitimate.

Personally, I love seeing Smooth Brain Astarion become more and more secure in his judgement the more Tav/other companions trust and support him.

Astarion is smart, his brain’s just been stewed for nearly 200 years.

[nightingale-prompts]

Batboy is back baby!

First | Previous | Next

(Back to the regularly scheduled idiots)

Life was not quite back to normal. Danny's lack of wings meant he didn't hang from the ceiling anymore. He also started eating less, he wasn't as much of a fiend for fruits anymore. The white fur collar he had started shedding until there was only a thin layer left.

Danny slept most of the day only moving to new spots occasionally. He would choose the most inconvenient spots as well. Like the roof.

One such day Danny was sleeping soundly in the midday sun when a portal opened behind him. A hand grabbed Danny by the ankle back onto the Ghost Zone. He only managed a single yelp before he was face to face with Clockwork.

"What part of come back do you not understand?" He scolded holding the boy in the palm of his hand.

Danny rolled over in the icy blue hand and sighed. He didn't bother looking up at "Kronos" in his titan form. He knew that it meant that his mentor was in a very bad mood.

"Now look at you. You have bearly staved off going into stasis. You are not fully formed yet young man and can't survive in the physical realm without an energy source. What have you been feeding on other than your own energy reserves?!" He lectured before another voice cut in.

"Go easy on him my love. Let me." Nocturne soothed taking Danny into his hands.

Danny was thankful for a moment before realizing that Nocturne's head was that of a ram which meant he was also mad.

Its very easy to read the emotions of god-level entities. The more imposing and non-humanoid the worse they feel.

"Daniel...what did I tell you to do late time we spoke?" Nocturne's red eyes narrowed, and his horizontal pupils shrank.

Danny knew this was a trap.

"Speak boy." Nocturne ordered.

"To return-"

"To return to the realms!" Nocturne bleated "And yet you stubbornly remained. Now look, you are practically wilting away! You are still a millennia too young to be this reckless. I should ban you from the physical realm. Putting you in a dream bubble for a century would teach you a lesson."

Danny knew that this was a bluff. Nocturne was a huge softie and never went through with a punishment. Clockwork on the other hand never made false promises.

" No, my Lamb. We shouldn't. Not yet at least." Clockwork sighed "For now we should concern ourselves with helping him recover."

Danny sighed with relief as the Titans let him go for now.

He had to leave a note for Dick that he would be at his homeworld for a few days. Clockwork also left a note to assure Dick that Danny was in good hands and is also being grounded.

Recovery by ghost standards was similar to humans.

Ambient ectoplasm could heal with enough time but it's by no means fast. It would take years for Danny to get back to his old self. When Danny first came back after being torn open the recovery was painfully slow without proper care. If Clockwork hadn't stepped in then Danny would still be in that state.

The first step is food. Despite what you'd think ghosts eat. They all have to eat something to survive, but they all just have their favorite foods.

Nocturne was a desire eater.

Clockwork by nature ate everything

Danny himself is a fear eater.

Fear eaters are the most common among ghosts.

But these are abstract foods.

Physical foods also exist. Ghosts cultivate foods of their own.

Danny's favorites are a bowl of Ice Scream with Ambrosia chunks, neck-tarine lemonade, the devil's eggs, and candied meal worms.

It sure beats eating honeyed dates, bread, and cheese with Clockwork and Nocturne. But a growing ghost has to eat alter food to grow in power.

So Danny can only eat offerings until further notice.

Clockwork also sent Danny to do tasks and training.

"You need to steel your mind. Your perception of yourself is too flimsy. The more you believe yourself to be small or a child the more your body becomes so. The more negative emotions you direct at yourself the worst you will appear." Clockwork droned on and on showing Danny complex diagrams about how to properly use his powers.

The time ghost had been firm about not teaching Danny any new abilities until he got this down.

Danny was not enthusiastic. He bearly made it though the first lecture on this.

"Give him a break. How about letting me show him some examples?" Nocturne said entering the room with a tray of tea. "Come with me. We'll go to the menagerie."

For the next few days, Danny was given a crash course on biology and mental conditioning. He practiced changing his form as quickly as possible and accurately copying. Nocturne was strict but fair. Nocturne was actually one of the best when it came to shifting.

On the last day, Danny hugged his mentors goodbye for now. Clockwork made sure to fasten a talisman around Danny's neck that would keep them in contact and help Danny control his power better so he didn't lose too much energy. Nocturne handed Danny a bag of golden Ambrosia for the road.

And like that, Danny was back home. Recharged and ready.

****

Dick tried not to be worried about Danny. He understood that since he wasn't entirely human he had to recover differently. But you can't blame him for feeling anxious.

Going missing once was problem enough.

When he returned to the apartment the first thing to greet him when he opened the door was something fuzzy flying at his face.

That fuzzy thing was a squeaking sliver bat that had somehow go in the house.

Dick peeled it off his face as the bat gleefully chirped at him.

"How did you get in little guy? Did Damian hide you in here?" Dick said as the Bat climbed up his suit.

Suddenly a heavy weight pressed down on him as the albino bat turned into Danny. Dick toppled to the floor.

"Dad!! Look! I finally did it! I flew!" Danny said leaning over Dick and smiling from ear to ear. His blue eyes flashed green.

Dick was stunned silent as he took in the last few seconds.

Did Danny call him dad?

[pomefioredove]

Hello! I saw your requests were open and wanted to put one in. Can I request Silver, Azul, and Vil with a reader who likes them but feels like they can't confess bc they're scared to form any more attachments to the people in twisted wonderland bc they think they have to return to their world and can't stay? Idk if that makes sense but yeah 😅

Ty in advance and have a nice day :)

of course!!! hehe. ended up writing this a little sappier than my usual headcanons

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ wordless confession

type of post: headcanons characters: azul, vil, silver additional info: romantic, reader is gender neutral, reader is yuu, long

Azul is pretty perceptive. it doesn't take a lot for him to guess that you have feelings for him, unbelievable as it is (to him, at least)... and he also had Jade ask you a few questions in a totally normal and non-threatening manner. he's also guessed that you're holding back because of your... well, unfortunate situation. you're smart, like him, enough to know that it's more trouble than it's worth. unfortunate as it is, staying away from each other proves to be harder than you thought (with no help from the tweels, who love the drama and think that Azul desperately "needs some bitches"- in Floyd's words, not mine). bumping into each other turns to awkward conversation, which turns to time spent together, which ends with your pinky fingers linked together on dates that you both insist are only meetings

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

it was Vil who fell first, but he didn't really know it. to him, you were simply good friends, better than he'd ever had, and he wanted to hold onto that for as long as he could. you were always fated to leave him; he knew this. and so he wouldn't let himself believe he was in love until you started shying away, avoiding him to avoid your own feelings. those few weeks were some of the hardest, but they made him realize that he was losing you whether he confessed or not. he didn't want to live thinking about what could have been, rather than what was. he'll always have his career, his fans, his friends and family, but there's only one you, and only one chance he has to make your time together special

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

Silver thought that keeping himself busy would keep his thoughts off of you. he'd thought he was dreaming it at first. that, perhaps, he'd dozed off mid-conversation and only dreamt of you, shying away, fidgeting with your hands, avoiding eye contact. but when Lilia starts asking about you, and Sebek starts making noises of disgust when you're together, he realizes he'd been more awake than usual. it's not difficult to guess that you're withholding yourself because of your... background, and, at first, Silver wants to respect your wish and remain friends. it's not as simple as that, though, and after Lilia encourages him to pursue you anyway (human lives are so very short, after all), he does just that