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teeldaa · 3 days ago

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I wanted to rant a little about Wyll , Mizora and Raphael,their prewrite versions and my issue with how Larian wrote devils and cambions in general and some theories :p This has been sitting in my drafts for a while, I got sick and completely forgot about it ...I think i got carried away with my Raphael theories, because of that i wasn't even sure if I wanted to post this or not(warning:a lot of yapping) And sorry in advance for my bad English :p

Wyll and Mizora first thing that bothers me is i see a lot of people saying Larian rewrote Wyll because EA players didn't like him, but that's not true?!I was looking through Larian's interviews, they either said they’ve redone Wyll because it wasn't working for them, they lost a little bit of narrative room for telling all these stories that he had(x) or they weren’t telling his story as well as they could have done(x)so it was Larian's decision and not players feedback. Pre rewrite Wyll: He wasn't related to Ulder Ravengard, he was a descendant of Grand Duke Eltan,the founder and leader of the Flaming Fist.these are the lines that were datamined during ea(source)

Although Duke Eltan founded the flaming fists, his family had to sell their interest to pay off debt... in the release version if Wyll doesn't sign the contract with Mizora and Florrick is still in jail Cordula Eltan confronts him about Ulder(might be an Easter egg)

after getting caught for thieving, Wyll was sent to flaming fists by his father.he pointed out that he wasn't a good fighter and didn't fit in well there and then one day Spike and his fellow goblins attacked the village

this is the part that a lot of people miss,you could only get these lines if you modded the ea to play as origin Wyll(x) when confronting Fezzerk the narrator said these

Your belly crash into memory, Spike was the one who slashed out your eye this one held your head while he did it

The bile rises in your throat, you hate this cockroach, you hate his chief ,You hate…yourself you'd been selfish,lazy,lustful. you'd all but invited goblins to a slaughter

and If you made Wyll torture the prisoner, Spike would say"The Blade always knew how to throw a party!" So I guess Goblins used throwing a party as an excuse to trick Wyll into letting them in!

I think what they were going for with Wyll was... A nobleman who had to meet high expectations put on him by his status and his dad, went through a very traumatic experience(humiliated, injured, witnessed the slaughter of an entire village)and had no way of fighting back! he was in need of rescue and had no one to help him, so he took Mizora's deal and became the blade of frontiers to prevent that from happening to other people?!

I often see it being said EA Wyll was a "fake hero" or a "glory hound" or … which are not true, He was the only companion who prioritized saving the tiefling refugees over finding a cure, was ready to die for them and would have left the party if you sided with Minthara. He wasn't "evil" he just had more flaws... Wyll decided to break his pact after Mizora asked him to pay "a price he wasn't willing to pay", they were arguing then got kidnapped by mind flayers. these lines are from modded Wyll origin(x) said by the narrator:

one moment you'd been bartering with Mizora for freedom. the next whisked away by tentacle monsters

what was it Mizora had said?oh yes- 'over your rotting corpse'

Spike found Mizora's pod and put a collar around her neck that neutralized all her powers, She communicated with Wyll through his eye and promised to free him if he saved her. Before the party got to the goblin camp, drow came and took Mizora to Moonrise tower and apparently they had"big plans"for her I think this version of Mizora was working for her father based on these dialogues(x)

Mizora: Get .Me .Out of here Wyll: and if i don't? Mizora: then my father will. and your eternal soul will be his.

maybe that "big plans"had to do something with her dad?! The lines that implied she and Wyll might had been romantically involved at some point were these:

Wyll: Don't tell me - someone came to you, an object of desire. made you better. More than better Wyll: Same happened to me. Tav: Someone, yes. who was it you saw? Wyll: An old lover. tempting as a trail of rose petals, and just as fragrant.

and for anyone wondering what does she smell like...

Tav: Tell me more about this old flame of yours. Wyll: A giver and taker. without her, id hardly be who i am, for both better and worse

I kinda get why they decided to change their dynamic, but they made it so much worse... what Wyll and Mizora had was a toxic codependent relationship with a power imbalance but the game was taking it more seriously...in his act1 romance scene You could hug him and make him feel safe. the only datamined Wyll/Mizora interaction we had was this! and this version Mizora is way better! She didn't treat Wyll like a "dog" or use weird degrading pet names. i wish they kept her straightforward and no-nonsense attitude, she had so much personality, probably more content and plot relevancy too She was already lawful evil and the game made that very clear, making Mizora treat Wyll in a super dehumanizing way was just unnecessary in my opinion and it didn't do neither of them any favors. the release version Mizora supposed to be a cambion but she's not really written like one. the most important part of cambions lore is that they are outcasts! They grow up very lonely because they are never accepted by either society, Even in the bg3 artbook it is mentioned that they have to be resourceful to survive "as the forsaken of two races"

They're not always evil, they can be neutral or even rarely good(depending on their mother's alignment). I feel like they were doing a way better job with datamined version of Mizora, You could actually see her half human side more. Tying Wyll to Karlach's story was a bad idea… Zariel's characterization feels kinda off(Karlach called her the biggest liar in all the realms??)and Mizora doesn't exactly seem like the type of person who works for her...Zariel is a warmonger obsessed with stopping the Blood War because if the demons win they will conquer the Material Plane and start destroying things, she's more of a“the ends justify the means” type of evil. Zariel is not into politics of hell, i feel like Wyll should have been forced to fight in the blood war just like Karlach because that's the only thing Zariel cares about. and...if Zariel doesn't own Karlach's soul then why does she want her dead?!Shouldn't Mizora order Wyll to capture her alive?so she can take her back to Avernus? i find it kinda odd there's not an option to ask Mizora to remove your tadpole. I think she should be able to that, In that datamined interaction she had this dialogue:

That's an illithid tadpole in your brain, let it fester for long and you'll be birthing a squid from your head hole. You want that thing out? Brush the dust out of your eye and get over here.

And bg3 has a prequel comic called "Mindbreaker"and a devil(an erinyes who served Bel) did remove an absolute tadpole...

Wyll's transformation into a devil confuses me! The dialogues makes it look much more significant than it actually is...it's just horns, i wonder if Larian was originally going for a more drastic change, bg3 concept art Devils have very distinct features... and btw Mizora turning Wyll into a devil should have cure him, ceremorphosis doesn't affect fiends...

I feel like if they didn't tie Wyll's story to Karlach and didn't change his father, they could have kept most of Wyll's previous content like his ea romance scene which was great And it could still work for the current Wyll. Was all that changes really necessary? And they didn't even give Wyll a unique starting outfit when his Keyart Armor was already in the game files and it looks perfect on him.

Mizora's father Just for fun, there was this Harbs Narbs theory(x) that Mizora's father was Levistus(Archdevil of Stygia) Levistus is the Infernal patron of vengeance and betrayal,His followers are called bladereavers.he is an honorable duelist and his favored weapon is a rapier in that video he said that blade of frontiers tag gave Wyll an automatic rapier proficiency and armor of agathys(Levistus tieflings have that spell) ...and the spell" Tomb of Levistus" was datamined Levistus is described as a tall humanoid male with dark hair, a neat goatee and an extremely pale complexion but would be able pass for a human if not for his pointed teeth and coal-black eyes that practically radiated darkness. Mizora concept art also happen to have "extremely pale complexion" "coal-black eyes"and looks more human compared to other devil and cambion designs...

(I really like this design, specially those small blades that are hanging from her dress. I think the outfit she's wearing now in the game was supposed to be for her human disguise and this was for her devil form) I couldn't find anything else about Wyll, But i think he suffered the most from the upper city getting cut. I am very curious about his EA version's father and his role in the main plot...He probably was the main focus of Wyll's quest in act 3(because Mizora was supposed to end Wyll's contract if he freed her from Moonrise) I imagine this version of Mizora could also become a camp follower, She was tortured badly by goblins so it makes sense that she would help us defeat The Absolute...

Probably not a hot take, but I don't think they should have completely rewritten his entire character that late in development(Just to be clear, I like release Wyll and i think Theo Solomon did an incredible job voicing him.I just wish the narrative treated him better) I completely understand why someone would prefer the current version he's a sweet, loyal and brave folk hero but in my opinion he would have been more popular and resonated with more people if they kept his old self. EA Wyll was more charismatic, chaotic and extroverted, He had A LOT of struggles and flaws but he was trying his best to overcome them and that made him more relatable. The difference between EA Wyll and release Wyll to me is like the difference between Batman and Superman, Batman has a way bigger fandom and more films, games, cartoons and...even though Superman is this uncorruptible and aspirational symbol of hope with so many cool super powers. Another thing I like more was how they were doing the warlock/patron dynamic. The relationship was much more personal and complicated and original version of Mizora was superior in every way (I could be wrong, but I always assumed from the way Wyll talked about the powers Mizora was giving him that the whole thing was some kind of allegory for addiction) that's all i had to say about Wyll and Mizora...

Raphael first the stuff they cut

the most important thing that got cut was his deal that he could solve your tadpole issue in exchange of your soul

in this interview Senior Writer Adam Smith said this:

In one situation, for instance, a devil will approach players with a bargain for their soul. That might seem like an offer to immediately reject, but that deal might also help players understand and control the change happening to their character as the result of a magical parasitic infection.

and in this one Swen Vincke said he is a potential solution for the tadpole problem:

even in the first encounter he says "Oh, A mere trifle. How dear is one's soul, Really?" when you ask him what he wants. ...so i guess that means you could have had Raphael as your patron?!

it was datamined that he wanted the artefact (x) not the crown

the person that supposed to be inside the artefact, helping you and not letting you turn was Orpheus, so Raphael wanted him...for some reason!

there is also this List of All Cut Content!apparently Raphael supposed to be a Merchant and soul coins were there for trading with him...

Raphael the Merchant - Originally Raphael was meant to be a fully viable option to remove your tadpole, in fact the "Soul Coin" items that you collect in game where originally meant to be a powerful alternative currency accepted only by Raphael in exchange for possibly retrieving your soul as well as a long list of incredibly powerful artifacts from the House of Hope that would be sold by Raphael himself.

originally Karlach didn't have her Infernal Engine(x)so that's probably true!

in early access If you didn't give Gale magical any artifact, he would make a deal with Raphael(x) Gale would inform you that he no longer needed anything from you, he didn't exactly tell you why but if you passed the wisdom check the narrator would said this :

You flutter through his mind like a bat through the night and you see… fire. You hear laughter. You smell brimstone. mocking words drift back to you.'This is the House of Hope.'

Origin Karlach could have made another deal with Raphael! she had unique datamined dialogues with him and Korilla

there's 4 unused Raphael models(with different hair style)in the game i see people calling them earlier iterations but they are not, they were datamined all together later in the early access along with companions dream lovers in one room(it was called AA room) They could be for some sort of cut content/quest lines?!

Concept art Raphael doesn't have hair so idk maybe these were supposed to be his different human disguises?! Even in this early live stream he had the same devil model with black hair while his human disguise looked like Lord Farquaad...

this was also on that list of cut content

Mol and Raphael - Isn't it odd how Mol will just escape from Raphael on her own and say it was "easy?" Well it turns out that's because they cut whatever the final leg of that quest was meant to be, instead they allow Mol to escape on her own which more or less skips to the end and around the cut content.

there's one Yurgir line!(you can hear his datamined voice lines here)

now, Leave me. I must prepare for my return to hell, Triumphant.

(thanks @doomsbutt for looking that up) apparently it was supposed to trigger as a fallback for when Raphael can't appear! The tag checked for that dialogue says "Sets if the Last Justiciar contract was completed, but Raphael didn't show up" Currently this is not an option in the game, but we could have just tell Yurgir he can be freed by killing the rats!so maybe there was supposed to be an option that got cut ?!

Astarion and Kith'rak Voss asking Raphael for help were added after rewrite

in early access the game locked you in a cutscene when Raphael visited the camp, you couldn't switch character, pickpocket him or see his health bar!also in ea Korilla wasn't spying on the party

in conclusion Astarion quest, Raphael's dialogues with Karlach and Dark Urge + everything in act3 should be new. Raphael probably originaly had A MUCH BIGGER role, He was mentioned in all the larian's earlier interviews and was on all of the promotional stuff... I think they changed him really late in development as well *take with a grain of salt*larian beta tested the game in july 2022 I heard about that version twice, What they both mentioned that had changed was the House of Hope. one of them said even Hope and Haarlep didn't exist in that version*again take with a huge grain of salt, I heard from someone who had heard it from a beta tester in both cases*

the release version (@tellmeallaboutit sorry it took so long...I changed my mind several times while writing this, then forgot about it for a while...) I know it's because of that late rewrite but in my opinion Raphael's writing in Act 3 is not great!(like everything else in act3) He has a really good set up but it just goes nowhere,his deal just sucks...after Yurgir quest i was excepting the contract to be a song or poem, option to negotiate the terms, and consequences...but nope!nothing! And then you can just go and steal your contract?!(pretty sure that's not a thing, since contracts are magic that bonds your soul to a devil not a actual piece of paper)and even if you break the contract, he won't kill/punish you for some reason. First i wanna rant a little about Hope…i think after they decided to cut all of Raphael's original content, they wanted to give the player a reason to kill him so they made her! she is a prisoner who is being tortured to accept Raphael's deal and...that's not how Infernal Contract works, terms become binding when both parties willingly sign the contract, the contract is void if the devil uses force or even threats. this is from Fiendish Codex II :

The same goes for buying slaves...there's a reason why devils go out of their way to corrupt mortals and offer services, why bother making contract if they could just buy people?! that aside my biggest gripe with Hope is she's not representing hope as a concept , she's very brave and strong-willed but kinda pessimistic. literally the first thing she say to you is"you came. such a shame. curiosity killed all the cats it won't be so kind to you"like??!Isn't that the opposite of inspiring hope? i was re watching her cutscenes and majority of her dialogues are quite cynical...i feel like whoever wrote her and HOH quest straight up confused hope with persistence, strong will and determination! IMO Isobel is a MUCH better character to represent the concept! for anyone who says "Why can't Wyll and Karlach stay in the House of Hope"they cant! Hell is very lawful hierarchical place. You can't just stay there, other more powerful devil will absolutely attack and take over HOH right away after Raphael's death. Another thing that really bothered me about Hope's situation is that it doesn't really line up with what Raphael was saying earlier... To make it easier to explain what I mean, i tried to analyze pre-rewrite stuff separately first: *Disclaimer:I'm not talking about current canon of the game This is mostly just my thoughts and speculations as to what his character and story might have been before the rewrite, i know I'm most likely totally wrong* Destroying people's hope was not exactly Raphael's goal, He even gets upset if you agree to take his deal in the first encounter"Oh. That's disappointing.I prefer it when my clients put up a fight…" and"i really am at my magnanimous best when people make an effort" That's why IMO it just doesn't make any sense for him to torture and imprison a person who didn't take his deal right away, Since he explicitly wanted his clients to have hope and go explore all the options they have, because for some reason he was sure they can't find anything and going to fail every single attempt"only to realize victory was never an option" then they themselves come to him and ask/beg him for help and he gets to be their"savior" The thing I find interesting about pre rewrite Raphael that is completely gone in act 3 is his savior complex and how he tried to portray himself as someone who helps people in need. "House of Hope" is a VERY common name for nonprofit organizations that provide treatment, shelter, financial assistance and...(if you google it and pass through bg3 stuff you can find many of them)I don't think the name's a coincidence because of this line"This is the House of Hope, Where the tired come to rest, and the famished come to feed lavishly"he was supposed to be an option to heal your party from the parasite. He also talking about having"boundless compassion" and "infinite mercy" and his the gathering card is called "Fiendish Savior"These are not things I associate with the devils or the hells. He is named after an archangel. Raphael is known in various religions as an angel who does acts of healing. The name Raphael means "It is God who heals", "God Heals", "God, Please Heal" in Christianity "he is the patron saint of travelers, young people, happy meetings, nurses, physicians, sick people and medical workers. He can cure blindness, eye afflictions, nightmares and..." in Islam "he is a beautiful angel who is a master of music, he sings praises to God in a thousand different languages, the breath of which is used to inject life into hosts of angels who add to the songs themselves."

In the final release the name Raphael seems very random for a cambion but if we look at his cut content it makes a lot of sense,He was supposed to be the party's patron who would cure their "eye afflictions" This could be remnants of Mol's original quest, but notice how even her blind eye healed after she took on Raphael's deal. He could also fix Gale's orb and Karlach's "condition", Maybe that's why he was named after the archangel of healing. another thing I've noticed is in his boss fight when you try to hit him with radiant damage he says this:

I don't think a cambion should be able to that, because "Radiant damage doesn't do anything special to demons/devils but they aren't particularly resistant to it either" No creature is immune but aasimar and celestial do have resistance to radiant damage. and there's also angel/devil aesthetic in the HOH decor...

Both of these are definitely Raphael, The devil one is sticking his tongue out, There's a lot of tongue imagery in Raphael's clothing concept art as well. The angel one(?)has some kind of plants around his head same as that one Ascended Fiend design on the HOH floor(The actual design has antlers instead of those)

Speaking of Ascended Fiend, I find it really hard to believe that they made a uniquely detailed model just for a phase of his boss fight that could be missed. There is no cutscene or explanation why he has a third form(i know about that cut"Mephistopheles, hear your son!..."line but I don't think it's canon anymore, and it's definitely not the original reason why this form exists, The design is already on the HOH floor and on his clothing concept art so it was supposed to be something that he already had) It doesn't look like a devil to me...It is designed in a way to draw all your attention to its head...it has 3 animal skulls smashed together(?)and Stag Antlers. Correct me if i'm wrong but i don't think that skull is for a real animal right?! And those stag/deer antlers are the most in you face part of this design, They are also seen in one of Raphael's concept art design and even in Korrilla's outfit on her chest.

This made me wonder what exactly that Ascended Fiend design was even supposed to be(I saw some say it's a pit fiend But it does not look like a pit fiend at all, pit fiend are heavy, have big muscles and gargoylish appearance)And what's with the antlers? Okay, here's my delulu theory: I think the Ascended Fiend's design and Raphael as a character were both inspired by a Wendigo.

"Wendigos are described as having long limbs, long, sharp claws, and teeth, and their eyes are said to be sunken in and glowing red. They are also said to have a long tongue that they use to lick their victim's flesh and can shapeshift into other animal and human forms." "The Wendigo was gaunt to the point of emaciation, its desiccated skin pulled tightly over its bones. With its bones pushing out against its skin, and its eyes pushed back deep into their sockets, the wendigo looked like a gaunt skeleton recently disinterred from the grave.What lips it had were tattered and bloody … Unclean and suffering from suppuration of the flesh, the Wendigo gave off a strange and eerie odor of decay and decomposition, of death and corruption" "The wendigo craves human flesh and is constantly starving for it. The wendigo is known to have its preferences: the sweet fat of children, the soft skin of women, the course muscles of men (especially warriors and hunters) Wendigos are embodiment of gluttony, greed, and excess; never satisfied after killing and consuming one person, they are constantly searching for new victims."They also stalk their preys for a long time and prefer to terrify them before moving in for the kill. the description kinda fits the design right? Notice how Raphael's eyes are sunken into their sockets in his human form. this also explains why there is so many tongue symbolism in his house and concept art...and looking back at Raphael's dialogues again, there's a lot of Food-related proverbs/idioms/phrases (they definitely toned it down in Act 3), some even could possibly indicate that he might have been based on a wendigo"through a nice juicy brain""My last contract here fed me for decades" He also called greed his"favorite virtue" and Shadowheart said this about him"there were no right answer with that devil. He was toying with his food-us""A devil sought us out, Teased us with his help…But he also stared as if we were the banquet, Rather the one on the table."(this is a cut line from ea)

There's this line in act2"I have this picture in my head of you tossing and turning in the middle of the night, thinking strange things, dreaming strange dreams..." In Cree mythology, wendigo can possesses people through their dreams and cause its victims a feeling of insatiable hunger, the desire to eat other humans, and the propensity to commit murder. And these were "urges" from early access:

Nausea twists your stomach, But it's hunger not revulsion, Something inside you clammers for blood, For death and only the the tear of flesh will do.

Amid this flurry of questions you feel something else deep inside you, A hunger, A lust for blood.

Durge is the last addition to the origin characters so ea urges should have been for something else so...idk. i looked up to see if wendigos are a thing in 5e but I could not find a solid answer...(put pin on this, I'll have more to say about Raphael and dreams) Another big thing I feel was really missing and should have been explained in act 3 is Why was Raphael so sure that his clients wouldn’t find anything and always come back to him to matter what...first two act was setting up Raphael as someone who likes to play games that he is sure his clients cant win but there was no such game in act3. I believe the current narrative wants me to think it's all an act or it's just him being overconfident but that doesn't make much sense, He acts as if he has never failed before and has the upper hand and lots of advantages in these situations, He shows his true form right away and never hides the fact that he's evil and even denies you If you accept his offer in the first encounter. To me this is someone who is looking for a challenge. You can see this in the way he dealt with Mol and Yurgir(their act2 voice lines were dataminded in patch 8 of EA, So their deals with Raphael were written before that late rewrite...) In act2 Raphael trapped Yurgir in the Gauntlet of Shar by offering help to Lyrthindor...so Raphael did put Yurgir in a situation where he had no other choice but to accept his deal. I'm having a bit of a issue with this quest... i know they tied Astarion to this quest after the rewrite(this is why there is no deal when Astarion is not in your party) and It was supposed to be an option to free Yurgir(because of that unused line i mentioned earlier, I wonder if we were going to see free Yurgir again in Avernus cut content...)So they have changed this quest at least a little. I feel like Yurgir's soul was not Raphael's number 1 priority, He made a deal with Yurgir. There was always a loophole in that deal, He could have sent someone else to kill Yurgir all this time but he didn't. it seems to me that he's just messing with him? And there's this line "My last contract here fed me for decades"as if he keeps getting profit out of that contract?!i don't think he's getting those dark justiciars souls?So what or who was he feeding on all this time? This should have been the quest that basically established what type of person Raphael is and how he makes deal, But the difference between this deal and what he offered the player is so big that it doesn't seem like they were made by the same person. In Yurgir's case the contract was a song, there was a loophole in it, and Raphael didn't play fair, The "perfumed trickster" in act 3 suddenly is an honest and fair devil who doesn't backstab his clients?

Yurgir himself was soften up a little too much in act3, I liked that he was this evil, ruthless devil who could easily kill you and enjoy it, But had a sense of honor. he was reduced to "uwu little rabbit" in act 3 As if we did not see his bed and this is not the same person who said "I made him watch as i ate his concubines and young, Then i fashioned a codpiece from his skull.""Owe you? Every breath you take from this moment now on is my reward to you. Few walk away from me intact."idk it's just a bit inconsistent for me... And there's Mol! She was presented with a deal from Raphael and then suddenly She got kidnapped after right after that...I don't think it was ever confirmed that Raphael was involved in her kidnapping but "It's only a matter of time before the apple is plucked."and"she still has the unconditional freedom to choose the only option she has left"kinda makes me think he may have known this was going to happen?!He had no way of knowing this was going to happen and I don't think it's even possible for him to be responsible for her kidnapping, But he spoke as if he knew... And then in act 3 you can just find Mol and give her back her contract and that's it... which was pretty anticlimactic. It just feels unfinished and rushed, Probably because they cut off Raphael's content and Mol's original story was connected to that said content?! Maybe I'm just being nitpicky but i feel like Mol should have known Raphael's a devil?! He offered her a deal and smelled like sulfur?Like what kind of deal did he offer her that didn't require revealing his identity? (*take with a grain of salt* It wasn't just Mol, If what i heard from that version that they play tested is true, There were supposed to be more children npcs in HOH and i have a feeling the devil with the silver tongue in Wyll's story who took the farmer's daughter away is also Raphael. This could be a cut storyline?maybe?) There are also these lines that do not make much sense to me"You're the best thing for business since the Second Sundering. Countless sorry souls came running to my door after your work in the grove." "To repay you for the souls sent my way, I offer a taste of the truth."Which souls is he talking about here?Why would "Countless sorry souls"go to Raphael specifically after the grove incident?

after rewrite Those were all the pre-rewrite stuff... Kith'rak Voss scene with Raphael must be new, He was a very different character and was involved on that big "The Creche vs The Cult of the Absolute" fight in Rosymorn Monastery that got cut. Raphael originally wanted the artefact not the the The Crown of Karsus so him want to be ruler of nine hell is probably new?! which is ridiculous If you know anything about hell hierarchy and power scaling(the reason is to enforce law and order(?) as if hell isn't already like that and Asmodeus isn't a primal embodiment of lawful evil) Maybe that's just me but Raphael's writing in general feels very different in act 3, My guess is that they gave him to another writer after rewrite, he seems to have been written by a more skilled and talented writer before that...like if you compare the first meeting with him to his monologue before fighting him, the difference in quality is very much noticeable. Raphael himself went from being very smart, snarky and manipulative to straightforward, blunt and comically unselfaware. I guess the current narrative wants me to just ignore all the earlier stuff?! And i have other nitpicky issues, "Down comes the claw" is supposed to be a reference to Raphael's lullaby in Act 1 but that doesn't make sense,This was what happened between the cat and the mouse, and Raphael was supposed to be the fox watching them. if they player was the mouse, who is this cat that they were brightly smiling at? And why "claws coming down" was a form of "love"? My guess is that the original meaning of that rhyme is something that has been cut. In my opinion, the House Of Hope quest itself was pretty underwhelming with lot of questionable writing decisions and basically was a weaker and less interesting version of hag's lair in act 1. I feel like the writer was much more interested in shocking people or getting a reaction than writing a good story. The last thing that bothers me in act 3, Raphael suddenly out of nowhere became really obsessed with law and order...I mean that's what he says but he never really does anything to show that he cares about those things? His house is a chaotic mess and Neither Hope nor those "Eternal Debtors" should be there. Devils can take someone and torture them without owing their soul ONLY IF those people to come to hell themselves(which wasn't the case with Hope) and I couldn't find anything about those "Debtors" in dnd lore. What is even the purpose of their existence beside shock value? Those who sell their souls to a devil become divine energy for the hells, Lemures or soul coins after they die, All of which are relatively worse outcomes and i think he should have served an archdevil in Avernus(but he doesn't)...All that talk about hell's laws but he lowkey not following any of them... IDK maybe he wasn't originally meant to be lawful evil? In act2 he said this about Mol "She cheated, of course, but that's half her charm"i don't understand how can you find cheating charming if you love law and order so much? and he also said this"After all, if there is one rule I hold dear, it's that one must always give the devil his due." Doesn't this contradict what he's saying in act3? He basically said he doesn't care about any rule beside "giving the devil his due" here... And there's Raphael's magic the gathering card "Fiendish Savior"

MTG cards have 5 colors, each of them has their own meaning and mechanic(you can read about them x,x) Raphael's card is half black half red. Black is color of lack of ethical restraint, Power at any cost , self-interest and ... which still kinda fits his character. Red is "impulsive and emotional. The color of passion, frivolity, and chaos"."Red values freedom above all else. It wants to do what it wants when it wants, and to whom it wants, and nobody can tell it otherwise.""Red believes that life is an adventure and that it would be much more fun if everyone stopped caring about rules, laws, and personal appearances and just spent their time indulging their desires through experience." I think this was made before that late rewrite, because it doesn't really fit him any more.(Wyll card is also red and that's definitely for his EA version) Red doesn't always mean chaotic alignment but character with half red half black card are very often chaotic evil. Unlike devils, Cambions can be other alignments beside lawful evil so maybe they were doing something different?!or maybe he wasn't even a cambion?

(Just a warning, I'm about to over analyze a lot of details in bg3 artbook, early access and prequel comic to guess what they might have planned for Raphael before the rewrite, if that's something you don't really care about you should stop reading...A lot of this is just my theories and speculation about the og storyline) Raphael's design I think just like Wyll and Gale, they didn't give Raphael his actual design and he stuck with his ea placeholder model. His final design is really bland and it looks nothing like his concept art. (i can't post more photo because tumblr's limit but you can see them here) I prefer all of them to what's in the final game right now, all of these designs are very bold, detailed and fancy, which I think fits Raphael's over the top personality better. They all have a black and red color scheme with lots of gold jewelry. There's a lot of nature symbolism(vines,roses, thorns and...), Eyes, Tongues and dragons in there as well. I also really like how Raphael's devil form has unique features and isn't just basic tiefling with wings like the release version. I don't know what this is but apparently it was important enough that has its own section on his page...

Another thing I noticed, Gortash's final outfit is very similar to some of Raphael concept art. Specially that early sketchy design (even that dragon tattoo was originally meant for Raphael) similar symbolism: Eyes, Tongues, skulls and dragons, None of these can be found in other Gortash concepts So idk maybe this is just an unused earlier design for Raphael? (Is it just me or the dragon on Gortash's collar looks a lot like Tiamat? it's literally a dragon with several heads. I don't see how she could be related to either to Gortash or Raphael so i didn't look more into it)

Another thing all of these designs have in common is that they are clearly inspired by Jareth the Goblin King and different customs he wore in 1986 Labyrinth. It reminded me of this tweet from back in ea where one of the dev even compared Raphael to Jareth.

that kinda explains why there were children npcs in HOH in that beta version of the game... I was thinking about this comparison then something suddenly clicked for me, Jareth was a manifestation of Sarah's desires(at the beginning movie in her room you can see a picture of David Bowie with her mother). He was offering Sarah her dreams and was trying to get her to submit to a fantasy...And that's EXACTLY what the original dream visitor from early access was...Which is interesting because when i was reading about Wendigo, That also reminded me a lot of EA dreams and urges(They can shapeshift into different human forms and posses people through their dreams and...) I knew Raphael's original role was to be a solution to our tadpole problem in exchange of our soul and be a Merchant. So I thought he would be an ally against the Absolute, but probably had his own evil agenda and dealing with him had its own consequences(kinda like an evil equivalent of Malady from DOS2)...It never actually occurred to me that the reason he wanted Orpheus and our souls was because he was with the cult...This sent me down a rabbit hole. If you haven't played early access you can watch all the dream sequences here. just by these alone it's obvious that the dream person isn't the tadpole specially in the last dream Where their mask fell off... And I think the Absolute and the Dream Visitor were supposed to be the same person...There was this conversation with Lae'zel:

Tav: Those dreams linger in my memory. Do you think that strange figure will come back? Lae'zel: It is a certainty. I had assumed our parasites served a ghaik Elder. But i believe they serve a greater master still. Tav: The Absolute is this 'master'. I'm sure of it. Lae'zel: Perhaps. 'Absolute' may be a mere pseudonym behind which this master hides. Whatever this voice, Whoever this master, It dominates dreams and unites minds.

Minthara also had this line in EA"The Absolute has spoken to you already, in whispers and dreams, but at Moonrise you will be in her presence." and Absolute's pronounce changed depend on the person you're talking to. EA dream visitor was referred to by two names in the game files: Daisy and Desire. This was datamined about multiplayer(x)

Daisy: can have up to four "Daisy" character in game , one for each avatar, The "default" Daisy is the host. Desire : only one "Desire" in the game.based on the Daisy made by the host.

Some NPCs in game files also were referred to as desire, So they were probably Daisy in disguise. for example one of them was Counsellor Florrick.

I recently watch this(x)Remember i mentioned those 4 unused Raphael models that were in the same room with origin character's dream visitors. Now i know what they are, They aren't for cut content 4 naked models are customizable dream visitors for each 4 avatars and there are 4 Raphael for each of them because Now there are 4 extra Emperor with those customizable Dream guardians in there instead ...(They aren't in the separate room like EA and Origin don't have their own Daisy now so they aren't there)

Looking back at EA footage now, I think the original visit to HOH probably was a dream sequence...unlike the release version Raphael would only come to camp at night after a long rest and when the scene ended the whole party was knocked down (Basically you would wake up from it)

I think that's why he said a "lullaby" would suit the occasion? And if you talked to Shadowheart after the first dream, There was an actual option to tell her that our dream visitor could be "that devil, Raphael"

I didn't even remember this because i usually didn't use the tadpole powers(They were to have severe consequences) and i think you only get this if you met Raphael before you get the first dream...Does anyone know what Shadowheart would say if you pick this option?

There's also this Raphael's cut line:

I have a thousand mistresses, Karlach. Fear and pleasure blend quite well.

(I think it could be a reference to “Just fear me, love me, do as I say…”?! ) "thousand mistresses" is something that is not really physically possible BUT if was the dream visitor, this explains who these people could be. I think every person that was tadpoled had their own Daisy.

The Cult of the Absolute itself has changed quite a bit after rewrite, There was this theme of "Power at a Cost"that is gone. The Absolute was going to offer you "powers" but indulging in those corrupting powers would send you down a dark path and had long-term consequences. "Cultist of the Absolute"MTG card had this in the description "you embrace power at any cost, and if it consumes you, so be it." Now the Emperor is the one who insists that you should use this powers, but consuming tadpoles has no real impact, it just a for a powerup system.

I was re-reading bg3 prequel comic Mindbreaker, I noticed something really interesting. At the end of the first chapter a group of true souls teleported to a library to perform a ritual. Then suddenly they started speaking Infernal while they were standing on something that looks a lot like the marks on Astarion's back...

And then a tadpoled priest of Kelemvor "father Alby" killed the true soul lady that was standing in the middle, using a dagger that looked like Rhapsody(it wasn't a 1 to 1 copy but the design were pretty similar) and after that a portal opened and he was like"now it is revealed to us, my fellow true souls…the glory of the Absolute has no limits!" Okay so who's this ritual is for? (It's definitely not for neither The Dead Three, their chosen nor The Netherbrain), And why is this "ritual" look so similar to devil worshiping?! At the start of chapter 2 the comic described whatever happened there as this:

Divine magic is power imparted by a god upon one of their worshipers, a reward for prayer and good service in the deity's name. But there are other paths to power as well…Dark pacts with strange beings whose magic and influence rival the glory of the divine, even if they are not called gods by those who define such things. woe to any who fall under their sway or drink deep from their corruption.

It implies the Absolute is not a real God, and the description doesn't really fit the Netherbrain neither. The use of those "powers" that the Absolute offered were described as "Dark pacts"

After all that, I looked into whether or not devils even could have dream powers and turns out yeah a certain type of fiend do! There's 3 type of incubus/succubus, EA dream visitor was really similar to the fiendish type who are neither devil nor demon : "Fiendish succubi commonly used their ethereal form to slip through walls to reach a mortal's bedside, and linger there as they slept. Here, they filled their victim's dreams with debauched scenes and whispered of forbidden pleasures, tempting them to indulge in dark desires, appetites, and taboos. The more the succubus did this in their dreams, the more vulnerable their victim became to temptation in the waking world. Eventually, the succubus entered the mortal realm directly, in a pleasing form previously seen only in the dreams, and befriended or seduced their victim, so they could influence them directly and indulge all their desires so they would perform evil deeds of their own free will. When the victim was utterly corrupted, such as by committing three betrayals of thought, word, and deed, their soul was in the grip of the succubus, without need of contract or pledge. For a more virtuous victim, this corruption might take longer, but their downfall was all the more rewarding for the succubus. Finally, the succubus slew their victim with a kiss, and the corrupted soul went down to the Lower Planes as their prize." "Fiendish succubi could become ethereal by slipping into the Ethereal Plane. They could also magically charm a humanoid, in sight up to 30 feet (9.1 meters) away, and make them obey any command they gave them. The victim might resist, especially if made to perform a harmful or suicidal action." It's all very similar to EA dream visitor and that also explains why EA dreams were so seductive but the only thing that doesn't line up is succubus could only have one charmed victim at a time...so i'm not really sure.

Looking back on it now, I think the character who replaced Daisy wasn't the Emperor, It was The Dark Urge(or more precisely Bhaal) What we were resisting in EA dreams was the dream visitor themself, not the urge to kill them. This would happen if you failed that charisma check(I find it weird that some people still insist that original Tav was Durge/a Bhaalspawn even when the writer straight up confirmed that's not true.) My theory is those "urges" were the consequences of using the tadpole powers and not resisting the dream visitor. The character that the emperor replaced was actually Orpheus(Emperor existed even before the rewrite. I'm not sure what his original role was, But his name was datamined back in ea) Orpheus was the person in the artefact that help the party and prevented them from becoming mind flayers, Based on this datamined conversation with Halsin (x)

Halsin: You're aware of the monster inside you. You don't bow to the Absolute, like the true souls do. How is this possible…? Tav: A being called Orpheus is protecting me; Shielding me from the worst of parasite's magic. Halsin: That sounds…novel. But alright, Who is this Orpheus? I'd like to bend the ear of anyone who knows about these things. Tav: I don't know the truth bout him. I'm not sure he even has an ear to bend. Halsin: Hmm. There's so much stock you can place in mysterious friends with unknown agendas...

These were also datamined about Orpheus (x)

in the game files " the cube contains the long imprisoned spirit of a gith general, who wants to fall into our party's hand in effort to eventually break free."

He's forcing Shadowheart to either join the party or get killed by the party - either way the cube will be where it wants to be.

A mysterious character who is trying to survive and break free, who prevents the party from turning into illithid and Shielding them from the Absolute's influence...That's just the Emperor now. Raphael originally wanted the artifact, so there should have been some sort of connection between him and Orpheus. Orpheus from Greek mythology was a poet and musician who descended into the underworld/hells to bring her wife back, So maybe there was something going on that got cut? .............. Small rant about Mephistopheles I feel like they just slapped him in the game last minute... The fact that Mephistopheles had the Crown of Karsus but did not use it does not make any sense. Mephistopheles is a wizard, ruler of Cania and second most powerful devil next to Asmodeus. he was desperately looking for divinity so he could beat Asmodeus and take his place.(Especially considering what happened between him and his cambion son Magadon just for a portion of the god Mask's divinity. he managed to get only a fraction of that )He could have use the crown, Steal Asmodeus' divinity and easily defeat him. "frigid archivist who made a miracle into a museum piece" is not really who Mephistopheles is ,he's very power hungry and his "most damaging issues" are his "rampantly unchecked megalomania and recklessness in the pursuit of power" The chosen stealing the crown from him is weird on itself(IMO None of them were smart or strong enough to pull that off)And then Mephistopheles did not go after them and let them carry out their plan?why?! I even think Raphael being the son of Mephistopheles was something they added later for several reason: Everything that connects Raphael to him was added after the rewrite(Him wanting The Crown of Karsus, Astarion asking about his scars and Haarlep). This makes him way too similar to EA Mizora, She was supposed to have a powerful devil father. Raphael's concept art looks a lot like Yurgir and other devil concepts from Avernus cut content and shouldn't he be blue?!Because I read somewhere that Mephistopheles's red skin is the result of the experiments he did on himself and he was blue before all that?!

Mephistopheles's deal with Cazador and him wanting 7007 random souls is also kinda ooc for him. He is the one archdevil who prefers quality over quantity("He has the advantage of having the lowest quotas of the archdevils but with the limitation of the highest standards")that's why he's in debt to some of the other archdevils like Dispater and Levistus. He also only makes deal with skilled wizards and cunning sages(Cazador doesn't really fit the bill) My theory is Astarion's back scars originally might had something to do with Raphael himself. Cazador's lair in bg3 art book looks different, Notice how the set up for the ascension ritual isn't there(Instead there is a pool of blood?)

if you look at Astarion page on BG3 artbook, it is mentioned that whatever is carved on his back is part of a poem.

Mephistopheles doesn't make contract in poem form. When the set of the MTG cards that included bg3 characters was released, They published this video explaining each card, Brandy camel (community manager at d&d i think)said this about about Raphael:

Later in the same video she said this when discussing Astarion's card:

He's an individual who's kind of been operating in that place between being rising to nobility but hasn't quite made it there yet, So he's kind of under the thumb of Raphael and he's not super happy about it.

So originally i thought this could be a mistake but if Raphael was EA dream visitor, I can see how he could be involved with Astarion. Here's a little summary of Astarion's og storyline(source of datamined stuff here) So there was this chosen of the Absolute "the Butcher",He and Cazador had a rivalry over who get to control the Baldur's Gate graveyard.(You could have sided with either of them) Cazador sent some of his spawns to investigate the cult, We were supposed to meet them in act2. Astarion wanted to ally with a monster hunter named "Spencer" against them, But if we talked to spawns we would learn that "the Butcher" send his apprentice "Ohler" to the graveyard(he was putting tadpole inside the skeleton's head and that made them hostile toward the vampires ) then an ancient and powerful vampire called"the Alluring" killed him. They also mentioned how they were happy with their situation and that Cazador is an okay boss"It is good. You don't age and everyone is afraid of you. Cazador is a bit strict but he makes sure we are fed" So about how Raphael might have been involved, "the Alluring" was called "Desire/Alluring" in the game files so he(?) was EA dream visitor in disguise... That explains why Astarion was the only one who had nightmare about Cazador instead of tempting dreams like the rest of the party. also in ea if you speak on dead on gur and asked him who sent him he would say this :

Astarion : Who sent you… Was it Cazador? Gandrel: No… Maiden Fel… Astarion : Who is Maiden Fel? Gandrel: Reason… Even monsters… Have nightmares…

If hypothetically Raphael was Daisy, this "Maiden Fel"was also probably him too? ................ so here's another delulu theory: (I know it's not very likely, I wasn't even sure to include it) Raphael's name still bothered me, I couldn't help but think there must be a reason why they name a devil after an archangel. So I checked to see if I could find some sort of connection between Raphael and any of d&d deities(since angels associated with gods) i have two guesses. the first one is Beshaba. Beshaba is "chaotic evil deity of accidents, bad luck, misfortune, and random mischief" and her holy symbol is the horns of a stag. She is the twin sister and sworn enemy of Tymora, the goddess of good luck(they are kinda like Shar and Selune) Raphael has this line in act1"They do know how to write them in Cormyr, don't they?" "Tymora was the most famous deity around the country of Cormyr, after she protected their capital, Suzail, during the Time of Troubles. Her efforts prompted a resurgence of her faith throughout the nation." and there's this one fallen temple of Tymora in the city of Tantras literally called the unlucky"House Of Hope"(x) Raphael has these dialogues "One might say you're a paragon of luck. I'll be there when it runs out" "You're out of luck." which didn't happen This is less likely guess because dnd evil deities don't really have angels... my second guess is Lathander. He's the deity with most similarities to Archangel Raphael "Lathander was a deity of creativity, dawn, renewal, birth, athletics, spring, self-perfection, vitality, and youth. He favoured those who dispelled the undead and blessed those who planted new life. Lathander was also the god called upon to bless birth and fertility related ceremonies.""A common symbol associated with Raphael is the color green. This color is often used to represent healing and renewal, which are two of Raphael's primary areas of expertise. The use of green in depictions of Raphael can also be seen as a nod to the natural world, which is often associated with healing and growth.Finally, Raphael is sometimes depicted holding a fish, which is a symbol of abundance and fertility. This symbol is particularly relevant to Raphael's role as a healer, as it represents the idea of restoring balance and vitality to the body." And both Archangel Raphael and Lathander are commonly associated with the Sun. Lathander is also a god of "hope and beginnings", He and his followers"Strive to bring hope to others" that one statue in the House of Hope with a sun behind his head and plants around his neck looks pretty similar to Lathander's statues in the game...

There's more to this if Raphael was the Original dream visitor. Daisy also spoke of "change", "growth" and a "beautiful and glorious renewal" If you look at the art of "Cultist of the Absolute" MTG card, You can see a window on the background that looks a lot like Symbol of Lathander. In the prequel comic there was this panel where one of the protagonist asked the tadpoled true soul"father Alby"what happened to him and why is he doing all of this, he replied"A simple answer to both questions, I have been Awakened" Novices in the Lathanderian faith are also called the Awakened. In original storyline that supposed to happen in Rosymorn Monastery(x) Kith'rak Voss got some kinda information from there that he wanted to tell Vlaakith about! He had this cut dialogue "I will make for the plane-gate. Vlaakith must hear of this!".The Absolutists REALLY didn't want this information to reach Vlaakith. Even Daisy was going to make an appearance because of it, this was datamined:

We need a system for showing daisy and making them talk to the player in the world// Daisy insists that the player shouldn't let Kith'rak Voss escape.

Why is this information obtained from a temple of Lathander be so important to the cult of the Absolute? Avernus was supposed to be playable and Zariel was also an angel under the command of Lathander before her fall. so maybe there was something going on between Raphael and Lathander ?! like i said I know it's not very likely... ............. So that's all i had to say, I tried to look into it more specially stuff that was datamined from patch5 and 8 of Early access(there was A LOT)but i couldn't find much, Most of the stuff from those patches were deleted or unlisted on YouTube... Just remember I’m literally just sharing my opinion, it is not a personal attack on you or your taste :P ok bye.

#bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #wyll #wyll ravengard #bg3 raphael #mizora #bg3 meta #bg3 orpheus #cazador szarr #bg3 cazador #bg3 datamine #bg3 daisy #kith'rak voss #long post #bg3 mizora

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rist-ix · 3 days ago

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This might be weird but bare with me: i saw some fanart of valtor and his mamma bears (I'm sorry), he was freshly made and a child still for some reason (idk if it's canon at this point that he was made in adult form or not buuuut) and so it's shown how they don't like him but at the next panel he wants their makeup so tharma and lysliss give him a makeover and at the end belladonna says i think we'll find a use for that pretty face. What i started thinking was if it's possible they used him as a pr0stitute at some point besides all the torture they put him through. My brain today is fixated on how much trauma or ptsd he could possibly have. Now that i write it i sense how weird this is but what do you think?

My friend my dude my brother in fandom, I am but a humble bacteria and u have given me the juiciest slimiest tastiest agar plate imaginable. Let’s get INTO THIS!

(For the record, this is purely fanon. I think I’ve alluded to this headcanon of mine in fics but I am well aware that I have little to no evidence from canon for these assumptions.)

ABSOLUTELY I think that Valtor was used for getting into royal's beds. Though I do think it would have been more complicated than simply “his moms are whoring him out cause they hate him and they want stuff from people” — and I think there are some FASCINATING implications that has for both Valtor's personality as a whole, and his relationship to sexuality and his own body.

First of all, the reason why I think you are correct is simple: he seems to be universally regarded as attractive in-universe, to the point of having even the Trix fawning over him, and he is consistently seen using charm and flattery to get others to do what he wants. If you wanted to expand on this in a darker and more mature setting, the logical conclusion would be that he'd use his body the same way. And I do think he would do that entirely of his own will by the way, no coercion necessary! Though there most certainly was coercion.

That ties a little bit into my view on the Ancient Coven's relationship to each other in general. While we do see Valtor and the Ancestresses at odds with each other in the finale (culminating in the Witches ‘disinheriting’ him and reverting him to his monster form), the fact that they seem to have worked successfully together for AT LEAST a good few decades implies they could be cordial when necessary. Plus, Valtor somewhat wistfully recalls working under them with Griffin, smirking and content in the flashback, makes me personally believe they were genuinely GOOD at cooperating too, instead of the Witches relying solely on tyranny. Don’t get me wrong: there is no way they were a happy family. I'm thinking more along the lines of them playacting as a very harmonious coven, doting creators and loyal creation, like a game that every one of them is in on — a performance, just for funsies, and because none of them want the outside world to see them as anything but perfectly aligned and ruthlessly efficient. All that while also having a sort of spiteful, vengeful arms race going on internally, with Valtor not-so-secretly trying to find ways to overthrow them, and them waiting for him to lean out of cover too far so they can gleefully, brutally remind him who's in charge.

There's a deep, deep, deeply rooted resentment Valtor seems to have for them, but they are also objectively the same: They both want power, they both want to control the Dimension, they both would do anything to accomplish that goal. So if there was a situation in which having someone charming on the inside would help them, I think both Valtor and the Witches would come to the conclusion that Valtor could do whatever necessary to accomplish that. Be it charm someone, poison someone, or sleep with someone in the hopes they might spill some secrets. I consider all four of them to be pretty pragmatic, I don’t think there would be any conflict or hesitation here — not at first.

Because while Valtor would certainly agree that that’s the best approach, and probably be more than willing to get out of their sight for a while and live it up in some palace or another, I do think it would chafe at him eventually. Whether he's using his body to fight people or seduce them is not all that different, both happens at their behest. He's always painfully aware that he is their tool — but I imagine it does get more pronounced with the latter. Especially over time. Your taste in people or attraction does not matter in combat, but certainly plays a role in sex. While Valtor certainly seems to enjoy putting on a show in combat, that is a power play, whereas having to play a long con, with himself so heavily involved no less, can start to feel humiliating, tiring, more like a loss of agency than a game of wits. I don’t think it’s the seduction itself that would bother him, but the clear knowledge that he's just following his creator's plans here, puppeteered even in this aspect of his life.

The result of that in the present day of the s3 era wouldn’t be sexual trauma per se, I would headcanon. Not in the ptsd sense at least. (Though I bet a good fic could convince me otherwise :D) I remain a firm believer that his trauma is purely about his lack of control over his physical form, and a revulsion towards his original body that borders on dysphoria. The sexual aspect of his utility to them would ADD to that, don’t get me wrong, but it wouldn’t be the main source.

It DOES influence him though.

I'm thinking mainly about Valtor's interactions with the Trix here. On multiple occasions he secretly witnesses how they argue or straight up brawl over who gets to have him. None of them even thinks about who he might have shown the most interest in, they treat this solely as a contest of strength, winner takes all. (I don’t think that’s them being rapey btw just to be clear. I see it speaks more to them being juvenile and deeply unserious about romantic relationships, like dogs chasing cars. They don’t care enough about people beyond the three of them to have any actual experience with romance: Darcy's fling with Riven was discarded INSTANTLY once the three had something better to entertain them — like world domination. If one of them had “won” only to get ignored or rejected, the other two would have laughed her out of the room and then they would have done it all over again the next day.) im getting distracted. What I meant to get to is that Valtor sees them acting like he's a prize to be won… and he does not react at all. The first time he finds it mildly entertaining, the next few times the bit seems to get old for him already. That’s it. He encourages their possessiveness of course! He clearly enjoys being feared, admired, or simply the center of attention, but being treated without regard for his own desires doesn’t really register as an insult to him. AND he's shown to be pretty unperturbed with Darcy getting into his space, and flirting rather aggressively with him.

And while that may seem anticlimactic after all that, I find that FASCINATING. (Not just because Winx Club consistently writes men — powerful men! — the way female characters would be treated in another show. An essay of its own!) A non-reaction is still a reaction, and Valtor's lack of irritation says a lot in my opinion. I think he has little to no real boundaries, at least outside of combat or with people that are allies/useful to him. By that I don’t mean he would reject someone's advances if he didn’t welcome them, but that he wouldn’t really remember that this is a point where people usually DECIDE whether they welcome the advances or not, u know what I mean? I think his entire sense of self is pretty nebulous to himself, and that his own body seems to him more like a commodity than, well, him. Which makes sense, doesn’t it? He is created as one thing, for one purpose, and then given another body, for another purpose. He prefers to be human, reviles the monstrous form, but has no control over which one he is at any given moment — the people who do could change their minds on a whim. It would make sense for him to feel somewhat alienated from his physical form, and therefore have little care for what happens to it. It would take him far longer to know his own reactions, and to realize whether he enjoys something or not.

I feel like I’ve only managed to put like, half of what's in my head into words here. The dysphoria thing alone feels like something that should be dissected on its own, but I’m dead tired and this post is already pretty long. I will say that I’m not 100% consistent in this headcanon, and depending on the fic I use some of this and some of that, but I do think it’s one of my most favorite reads on Valtor as a character. Thank you so much for this ask!!! I hope the answer is close to what you hoped for lol

#asks #winx club #winx valtor #winx meta #I’d be DELIGHTED to hear your take on this though!!! or what effect it would have on his character if the situation was more like u said #with even less agency for Valtor or straight up against his will

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seitmai · 2 days ago

Text

Three paces into the hallway, brown wood floors and white walls, you’re met with a smiling family picture. Only, you’re not in it. Because, it’s not a picture of Pete’s family. Pete doesn’t have a family. Pete Mitchell has a daughter from a one night stand with a married woman.

Uff 😬

The nickname stings you. Your name isn’t Mitchell because your biological father had wanted it to be. It’s Mitchell solely because your mother’s husband knew you weren’t his and would rather die before letting you take his name.

Damn

Your throat is thick with the knowledge that all you knew Maverick to be, is now all that he’ll ever be. An absent father, a fantastic pilot, a lousy cook. A thousand more things that you’ll never know.

To know that you don't know a lot and will never know more is rough...

It’s been almost two years since you even set foot in this house last. If you had known that Maverick was going to be gone this soon… you sit and think to yourself about if you would have maybe visited more. Probably not.

Sometimes being honest to oneself is not easy

He stares down at the pizza between the two of you as he chews through a bite, brows drawn together slightly. He hates thin crust pizza — it’s the worst kind of pizza. But, when you had suggested it, he had agreed with a tight-lipped smile.

Hey, nobody slander thin crust there are far worse kind of pizza ☝🏻

“I’m sorry.” Bradley blurts out. You both look across at each other, equally surprised that he has spoken. “…For what?” You ask quietly, lips tugging into a small frown. “I’m sorry that I’m here and he’s not.” He’s just got to say it. He knows you probably wouldn’t bring it up on your own, but there’s a big elephant in this room. Bradley knows what it’s like to sit in your spot, and not know how to talk about it.

God they are lowkey awkward together and neither of them just knows what to do with themselves 🥴

“We weren’t that close.” You tell him, like that’s supposed to make him feel better. It doesn’t. It’s like a blow to the chest. You’ll never get the opportunity to fix things, because of him.

I feel like this maybe hurts Bradley more than her..

Your teeth press into the inside of your cheek. Maverick hadn’t ever described Bradley as this nervous.

👀

Nothing. A couple of beers and a block of good German cheese.

I mean it could be worse lol🤷🏻‍♀️

“Uh... No, not really.” After a routine training presentation at the very beginning of their attachment, Admiral Simpson had once become so agitated by Maverick that he snapped his own reading glasses in half. Mav got a good laugh out of it, at least.

At that I would have laughed too 🤭

It’s an easy answer, rolling off of your tongue with a shrug of your shoulders and a deflated sigh. “People usually put us in the same boat — if they don’t like him, they don’t like me.”

That's really shitty, especially knowing Mav's reputation 🥴

That’s something that he thinks he can understand. There’s not an instant dislike, but there’s a pity that he finds in the eyes of people who once knew his father.

At that they really share a bit of similar fate

Her boots hit the ground, your lips parting slightly as you realise that she’s headed right for you. Bradley feels your arm tug in his grip and turns his head, taking note of the way you’re trying to shrink behind him. Lynn is a hugger by nature, and she was a good friend of Mav’s for a long time. She means well, but Bradley isn’t going to let her touch you when he can see how unnerved it makes you.

Good thinking Bradley, nothing worse than an unwanted hug by a stranger 🫣

You check back over your shoulder, glancing briefly at the man behind you, who has assumed his best bodyguard impression.

I'm sure he does 🤭

“Miss Mitchell,” The admiral takes his seat on the other side of his desk once again. “I want to first express my deepest condolences. Your father was a good man, and a… extremely skilled pilot.” Bradley almost scoffs. Even now, Cyclone can’t manage to compliment him.

It seems his feeling run deep 😬

“But— he’s dead.” You frown, rendering Cyclone suddenly quiet. “He’s got to be. It’s been a week. No food, no water, sub-zero temperature. What’s the point in looking?” Bradley grits his teeth. He looks across at you, the muscle in his jaw ticking. There’s nothing in your expression, no fear or sadness. Your father deserved more than that. “The point is to bring him home.” He bites from your side, staring straight ahead at Cyclone.

This is rough... I get her questioning the process, it's not something that someone is usually confronted with..

You’re biting at the inside of your cheek so hard that you must be tasting copper, picking at the seam of your jeans and breathing like you’re trying not to cry.

🥺🥺🥺

“I— fuck. I don’t want to be here. I-I— I’m going to have to find a job, and I’ll have to call my mom, and— and my friends, and—“ “Hey,” Bradley mumbles, resisting the instinct to throw his arms around you. His brows draw together as he reaches out and squeezes your bicep, bending his knees so he can catch your eye. “It’s alright. I’ll take care of it.” You know that he’s just trying to be nice, but really, you’re sick of nice. It’s all that Maverick ever was and it left you with no idea of who he really is.

She has every right to be angry, upset and sad even if he really just ries to be nice, this is just not a good situation anyway and with the news of the investigation it just got SO MUCH worse🥴

He nods, closing his mouth, swallowing dryly. Thinking of what he can, feasibly, take off of your plate for you. The idea sparks in him. “You need a job. I can get you a job. Um, your friends, we can call them and bring them down for a weekend?” He squeezes again at your bicep, nodding his way through his plans, trying to will the tears in your eyes not to spill over.

I like that he is thinking practical!

“I don’t want to go back to his house.” It comes out as a whimper, and really just reminds Bradley that you’re in the same position that he was when he was just a little younger than you. It’s a scared kid type of feeling, being all alone in the world. Being in an empty house had made it even worse. He licks his lips and glances towards the skies, watching the sun pass behind a cloud. “You could stay at my place, for a night or two.”

Just a night or two, sure 😏🤭

Ashes, Ashes | One | Bradley Bradshaw x Reader

masterlist | prologue | next chapter

Synopsis: In which Maverick didn’t make it home after the Uranium mission. He’s missing, presumed dead. There are things that have to be done — someone has to take care of the house, the bills.

So, Maverick’s daughter is back in Fightertown for the first time since she was in elementary school. There’s a gaping hole in both of their lives now, and somehow, the world’s supposed to just keep on turning without him.

Warnings: mitchell!reader, no physical descriptors other than the implication that Bradley is taller, no use of YN, age gap (23/33), smut, angst, hurt / comfort, mentions of character death, mourning, military inaccuracies. This entire fic and my blog is an 18+ space, minors do not interact. Do not repost.

…

Crossing the threshold into Maverick’s home doesn’t come naturally to either one of you. This place is something that you had both left behind. Outgrown. It’s solely his. It’s not your home and it has never been, until now. Now, you’re stuck here until things are figured out.

On that fourteen hour drive down to San Diego, you had a lot of time to think. How long is a person supposed to wait for a body to turn up before they go ahead and throw the funeral without it?

Three paces into the hallway, brown wood floors and white walls, you’re met with a smiling family picture. Only, you’re not in it.

Because, it’s not a picture of Pete’s family. Pete doesn’t have a family. Pete Mitchell has a daughter from a one night stand with a married woman.

This picture is of a real family. Hung on the wall opposite the front door is a picture of Nick and Carole Bradshaw holding their infant son. He’s bald and gummy. They’re grinning and showing him off like a prize trophy — so proud of him even though all he did in those days was drool and pee himself.

These days, their infant son is up to more important things. Their infant son grew to an upsettingly grand height and is carrying two of your bags in one hand behind you today.

“C’mon, Mitchell — these are heavy.” Bradley huffs softly from behind you, reminding you that you’re standing stationary and blocking his path.

You shrug your duffel bag closer to your body and turn left. Bradley huffs under the weight of your luggage from behind you, watching you walk your cute butt in completely the wrong direction. “Wait, where are you going?”

Not struggling at all under the weight of your single duffel bag, you turn slowly to face him and frown slightly. “My room.”

You don’t remember Bradley. Not in your own memories, anyway. You know he was around, you’ve seen him in pictures but the image in your head doesn’t match. Not quite right. Like puzzle pieces bent and forced together.

He’s taller than he looked at his high school graduation, which sits pictured and framed above Mav’s mantle. Older, but that’s to be expected. Up close, he looks more like his mother than his father. A slight bump in his nose and scars, nicely healed, but jagged and raised nonetheless dusted his cheek and his throat.

Even with all those differences, there’s a familiarity to him that makes this all feel a little bit less suffocating.

Bradley’s brows draw together. He gives a small nod in the direction of the spare room. “That’s… I usually stayed in that room.”

“Oh.” You hum. With Bradley being ten years your senior, the room was his long before it was yours. With him growing up so close by, it was probably his much more frequently than it was yours. It’s not like you kept anything here anyway. It’s just a guest room that you would occupy every now and again.

There’s a brief quiet between you.

“I just figured you could take the big room. ‘Til you get settled. I’ll go home once your car is fixed, if that’s what you want.” Bradley adds on. That sad little look on your face is killing him.

The big room. The loft room upstairs. You’re pretty sure that you’ve never even been upstairs in this house.

“You’re staying too?”

Oh. Yeah. He hadn’t addressed that point yet. Truthfully, he hadn’t even been planning to stay. He hasn’t even packed an overnight bag. But, from the second that you stepped out of the car and looked up at the house with that look on your face, he hadn’t even considered leaving you here alone.

“Just ‘til we get your car fixed,” He offers with a small shrug. “I’ll be here to run you around until then.”

Like he’s doing this for your sake. Natasha has her own life to get back to and Bradley can’t stand the thought of going back to his apartment alone.

“Okay,” You agree, turning to peer down the hall towards the spare room. It’s nothing special — it really never felt like yours. “Alright, I’ll take Pete’s room.”

Pete. You call Maverick ‘Pete’ now.

Bradley just nods, shifting the weight of your bags and nodding for you to head for the stairs. All the floors in this house are tan oak. The entryway is now herringbone. With the help of a friend, Pete had done the entire thing himself.

Of course, as you walk silently across it, neither one of you would know that. Neither one of you was speaking to him last May, which was why he had needed a project in the first place.

Natasha’s outside on the phone. Bradley’s footsteps thud on the wood of the stairs behind you, following you up. You stop at the top, leaving just enough room for Bradley to stand there behind you.

The door to Maverick’s room is open. His bed is made. There’s a book thrown on top of it, the spine cracked and used, the pages yellow from years out in the sun.

“No way is he still trying to fucking finish War and Peace.” Bradley steps around you with your bags in his hands and heads straight for the book. Pete started this book before Bradley finished elementary school. Bradley twists and looks back at you. “He always gets bored and stops reading, then forgets his page and starts again.”

Another slow nod. One foot in front of the other, your shoes along the tan oak floors. Your fingers trail the white walls. Maverick wouldn’t have minded. This place was always messy before. It’s not now.

This house is vacant and quiet, but it’s far from empty. It’s filled to the brim, practically pulling apart at the seams with everything that Maverick was and planned to be. He was finishing War and Peace — he made it to chapter 253 this time; further than he had ever made it before.

Four days of knowing, a fourteen hour drive down here, and it’s a book that stings like a cold slap to the face, reminding you of why exactly it is that you’re here.

Fire burns behind your eyes, blistering and stinging as Bradley sets your bags on the floor with a soft thud.

He turns with his attention completely on the book, his fingers extending towards the peeling cover of the paperback. His fingers curl around its weathered pages and he lifts it tenderly, examining the front at first.

It’s too early to start this process bawling your eyes out, and you refuse to let Russian Literature be your downfall, again. That thick feeling sits in your throat like a stack of weights as you sit down on the end of Maverick’s bed. The mattress is soft, taking your weight without a squeak of complaint. Maybe he finally listened to you and got a bed that wasn’t so harsh on his back.

“I’ll change the sheets and stuff, then I’ll get out of your hair for a bit.”

Lifting your head, you blink at him. He has already started to pull back the comforter and strip the bottom sheet from the bed, awkwardly forcing you onto your feet again.

Mobile once more, you turn slowly to take in your surroundings. This is Maverick’s room. It’s his house, you were prepared for that much — but this is his room. The last thing you want is to be alone in it all night.

“Oh. Sure,” You nod, setting into motion to help take the sheets off. You watch him instead of what you’re doing.

He’s so methodical about it, like none of this phases him at all. But then, you’ve not seen how he has been for the past few days. “I was thinking of just ordering food tonight, since I’m kinda tired — and Pete never had groceries. Would you want… to maybe join?”

“Sure.” Bradley nods, tugging the pillows out of the cases. He glances up to you with a strictly polite, neutral smile. Quiet settles between the two of you until the bed is just a bare mattress and uncovered pillows.

There’s a moment of total stillness between the two of you. Your gaze flickers up, meeting his, and the realization settles between the two of you. Maverick’s favourite cologne was a French thing that some woman in the eighties had liked. Citrus in the shade of cypress wood. The scent fills the room like he’s standing between the two of you.

Bradley glances down at the white sheets in his hands. The snowy white peaks of those mountains, Maverick’s aircraft spiralling into them, engulfed in flames. In a sick way, Bradley hopes that he didn’t manage to eject. At least then, it would have been instant. Maverick wouldn’t have felt anything.

You watch his adam’s apple bob in his throat from the other side of the bed. The last you had heard, Mav and Bradley weren’t on speaking terms. You wonder if this is as weird for him as it is for you.

“I’ll put these in the washer. You can… unpack, or whatever.” He decides finally, already taking one step backwards, headed for the door. You stand there, blinking at him. Even with those steeped, broad shoulders, he makes it through the doorframe unscathed before he turns to check where he’s going.

He probably knows this house inside and out, just like he knew your dad. Once.

When it comes to wracking your brain and trying to remember Bradley Bradshaw, you can’t ever come up with anything. Maybe a glimpse, here and there. A blue t-shirt with green stripes. His school backpack accidentally left in the backseat of Maverick’s convertible beside your shoddily installed car seat.

Truthfully, your experience with Bradley Bradshaw is limited. He’s just as real to you as any of the other guys in the stories you grew up hearing about. Your very own Peter Pan is downstairs right now, trying to figure out Maverick’s ancient washing machine, just so that he doesn’t have to stand up here and stare across at you.

He can’t hide from you forever, though. Evening comes, and so does hunger.

Natasha has gone home. It’s just the two of you. Sitting in this unchanged, all too familiar kitchen. You’re barely unpacked. You set up a couple of things in Maverick’s bathroom, but it doesn’t feel right to be in the big room upstairs. That wasn’t ever your space to claim.

You chew absentmindedly at the bite you had taken. The TV in the living room is off. The record player is coated in a layer of thin dust already. It’s dead quiet. The kitchen light is dim above your heads.

There’s a chip in the corner of the table on Bradley’s side. It’s there because Bradley was running through this kitchen when he was four years old and had tripped and knocked his front tooth out right here. His thumb trails the tiny mark, wondering how his teeth had ever been that small.

Wondering why you aren’t angry with him, too.

Maverick had picked him up that day, turned him around and held Bradley while he cried, stemming the blood and quickly introducing the concept of the tooth fairy. He had done all that he could, and Bradley still found a way to resent him for what had happened to his own father.

Bradley hasn’t ever done a thing for you. Except maybe pay for this pizza. And here you are, calm as can be.

The sauce base feels tangy and coppery, and the cheese makes him want to puke. He sets the slice down on his plate and wipes his hands on the paper towel beside him.

Finally, he lifts his head and looks at you. Your hair is up now, tucked out of your way after an afternoon of manual labour upstairs. You’re wearing a stretched out old t-shirt. Bradley assumes you got it from a boyfriend.

Really, he doesn’t think you look that much like your old man. He would really have to search for the resemblance. But, briefly, when you offer him a polite smile across the table, he knows that you’re Mav’s kid.

“I’m sorry.” Bradley blurts out. You both look across at each other, equally surprised that he has spoken.

“…For what?” You ask quietly, lips tugging into a small frown.

“I’m sorry that I’m here and he’s not.” He’s just got to say it. He knows you probably wouldn’t bring it up on your own, but there’s a big elephant in this room. Bradley knows what it’s like to sit in your spot, and not know how to talk about it.

It’s his fault that Maverick didn’t make it home.

You stop chewing. That last bite sits in your mouth, doughy and dry all of a sudden. You stare across at him, awkwardly making yourself swallow down the last of your bite of pizza and picking up the paper towel to wipe at your mouth.

But, he knows what it’s like to be told how to grieve. He just dips his head and nods awkwardly. “Right.”

“I got a call from an admiral the other day,” You pick up the slice of pizza and pick at its toppings. There’s no one here now to tell you not to play with your food. Mav never really cared anyway. Bradley watches you, unhungry. “Invited me down to Miramar. He said he was a friend of Mav’s and that he could talk me through… this whole thing. How it works.” You explain with a shrug.

Bradley rubs a hand over the neatly trimmed hair above his lip. It feels like he has swallowed a golf ball, sitting here like it’s normal to be discussing the measures.

He knows how it works. It won’t be as simple as it was with his own father. At least Maverick had afforded him something to bury. For you, there’s nothing.

“I’ll have to be there around eleven.”

“Sure,” Bradley nods, scratching at the back of his neck. His legs tingle with stiffness. Clearing his throat, he shifts in the little wooden chair and stretches, knocking his foot into yours under the table. “Oh. Sorry. I’m sorry.”

Your teeth press into the inside of your cheek. Maverick hadn’t ever described Bradley as this nervous.

“It’s fine.” You hum, pushing back in your chair and standing up from the table. “Well, I’ve been up since like… four, so I might just hit the hay.”

“Sure.” Bradley breathes out, hands braced on his thighs, eyes focussed on that tiny chip in the corner of the table. “Yeah. Goodnight.”

The downstairs bedroom seemed bigger when he was a kid. The twin-sized bunks on the carrier feel bigger than the wooden-framed bed that Maverick put in here. Bradley’s shoulder is practically hanging off the side, and the old frame creaks with each movement he makes.

It’s not like he would be sleeping much anyway. When he closes his eyes, the only thing he can see is the fireball Maverick’s plane had turned into as it fell.

Bradley’s hunched over the coffee pot by the time that you wake up. He hears you coming down the stairs and straightens up like he wasn’t three seconds from throwing the stupid thing at the wall, clearing his throat and turning around.

It occurs to him that he should have put a shirt on. This isn’t his place. It’s yours, now, he guesses — either way, he hadn’t considered making you uncomfortable. He folds his arms over his naked torso as you stroll into the kitchen, hair mussed and rubbing at your eyes.

You’re wearing big socks and the same big t-shirt you had worn to eat the pizza last night. He can’t tell if you’re wearing shorts or not.

“Morning,” He offers up, making you lift your gaze from busily tapping at your phone. Your gaze lands squarely on his navel — more so, how low his shorts sit on his hips and the way a soft trail of brown hair ventures from there to his bellybutton.

Blinking, you find his face.

“Coffee machine’s broken, we can stop somewhere on the way to base if you like.” He leans down a little bit, like an awkward teenager shrinking away from a family picture. You lock your gaze on his, trying not to glance back down at his muscles.

“Oh. That’s not broken — if you hit it hard enough, it’ll work.” You head right for him, fuzzy socks padding across the floor so softly that it really does startle him when you grab the copy of War and Peace that now sits on the kitchen counter, and slam the book right into the side of the coffee machine.

He whips around as the machine whirs to life. You set the book back down gently, and look up at him. He sets his jaw, brows knitted together, searching your face.

Maverick never taught Bradley anything like that. In fact — Bradley always, always was taught the opposite. You never take the easy way out; if something’s worth fixing, then you fix it right.

Then you, you on the other hand, beat the thing with the heaviest book you can find? He just doesn’t get it.

“Well. Thanks.” He guesses, turning his bemused expression back to the brewing coffee.

He hadn’t been expecting you to do that. Doesn’t take a genius to figure that out, given the way he’s still glaring at the machine. That coffee pot is older than you are, and Mav never taught him that trick?

“So this guy, the one who called me,” You skim your fingers along the cool granite countertop, just to have something to do, “He was the guy calling the shots up there?”

Bradley blinks. He doesn’t know how much you know about the way all of this works. He knew everything there is to know long before he ever enlisted, but that was because he wanted to know.

“Um,” Bradley grabs his mug and takes a step back for you to get yourself one. “He was our mission command so, kind of. He gives orders — but, y’know, everything happens fast, it’s… it’s hard to call the shots from back on the boat.”

“Did he like Mav much?” You ask, head tucked inside the fridge door as you scan for anything to make your coffee a little less black. Nothing. A couple of beers and a block of good German cheese. You swing it shut with a resigned sigh, wondering if you’ll be here long enough to need groceries.

The thought flashes across your mind — what’ll happen to this place when you leave it behind?

“Great.” Agitation creeps into your tone as you curl your fingers around a plain white coffee mug. All of his kitchenware is plain white.

“What?” Bradley tilts his head, trying to catch a glimpse at the look on your face, stuck between whether you’re sad or pissed off.

It’s an easy answer, rolling off of your tongue with a shrug of your shoulders and a deflated sigh. “People usually put us in the same boat — if they don’t like him, they don’t like me.”

That’s something that he thinks he can understand. There’s not an instant dislike, but there’s a pity that he finds in the eyes of people who once knew his father.

He screws his mouth up, shaking his head and reaching for you without thought. His palm claps against your shoulder, platonic and soothing, but the first time he has touched you nonetheless. “I’ll be there. He won’t say a thing.”

Glancing upward, while his palm lingers on your shoulder, your eyes flit across his features. He doesn’t know quite what you’re searching for, or whether you find it. His fingers squeeze softly against your skin before the touch is gone all together.

You drink your coffees in parallel, both subtly miserable in your silence but comfortable in it anyway. It’s difficult to prepare for a meeting like this — you don’t have a clue of what to expect.

Bradley wears black jeans and boots with a plain white t-shirt, which convinces you not to wear the more formal dress you had thought you’d have to wear. You slip into his passenger seat in a skirt and Mary Janes.

He drives a loud, blue vintage Bronco. It sparkles inside and out, and makes your dusty old car look even worse.

Bradley settles behind the wheel to the sound of chilled seventies music, the radio turned low. He drives with three fingers curled around the bottom of the wheel and the other hand resting absently on the stick shift.

Even though he seems calm enough behind the wheel, you watch him chew at the inside of his cheek for the duration of the drive. Gears tick away inside his head. His knee only stops bouncing nervously when it’s time to press his foot against the pedal.

He’s not as good at pretending as he thinks he is; you silently appreciate that he tries, either way.

Bradley, truthfully, spends the entire drive thinking about the last time he was face to face with Admiral Simpson. ‘Son, I’m doing this for you.’ He had sworn, face sullen, uttering the exact same words Pete Mitchell once had when delivering the words that had torn Bradley from him the first time.

Only, Admiral Simpson wasn’t pulling Bradley’s papers — he was just putting him on a month long bereavement leave. His protests had fallen on deaf ears once again, as they had fifteen years ago. He’s now a week into that leave, but it feels like longer.

It turns out that when you cut sleep from the equation, everything feels a lot longer. In his own apartment, his routine has been getting up at 2am after hours of tossing and turning, going for a run all the way down to the docks, coming back and showering, then waiting for the sun to rise.

Last night, he’d been awake in that creaky old twin bed, struck by the realisation that if he spent all night tossing and turning — one, he might actually break the old bed frame, and two, the squeaking of it would definitely keep you up.

All it had taken was the focus of trying to sit still for so long to finally knock him out. It was the best that he’d slept since the mission.

He kind of hopes that it’ll take him a while to figure out something to do with your car; at least that way he’ll be able to sleep at night.

“You ready?” His voice startles you from your daydream, the engine cutting out with a jingle of the keys as he stretches forwards in his seat to shove them into his pocket. “We’re headed just over there.”

“Yeah, let’s get this over with.” You’re stepping down and swinging the heavy door shut before you’re taking your next breath, leaving him to catch up to you.

His long strides have him at your side before long, reaching ahead of you to pull open the glass door to the post headquarters.

This process has already been easier with him at your side. He’d coolly handed over his service ID and greeted the guard at the gate by name, and he stops you from turning sharply down the wrong hallway with a soft bump of his shoulder against yours.

He catches your forearm as you try to blow right past the front desk, his grip loose but firm.

“Rooster.” The woman behind the desk stands up sharply, looking sharp in her service khakis, her entire face creased with a deep worry. She’s older, maybe around Mav’s age. “I heard, I’m so sorry.”

Rooster loosens his hold on your forearm, his lips flattening into a line. He stands up straight, his interaction with the woman nothing if not totally polite. His thumb trails across the bend of your wrist as he nods his head towards you.

“Thank you,” He says softly, seemingly unaware of the way you’ve stiffened in the presence of this woman. “We’re, uh… we’re just here to see Cyclone, Lynn.”

Her warm, brown eyes whip towards you, widening. Recognition floods her features as she pieces together who you must be.

Lynn is a hugger by nature, and she was a good friend of Mav’s for a long time. She means well, but Bradley isn’t going to let her touch you when he can see how unnerved it makes you.

“We’re a little late. I’ll catch you at the O-Bar this weekend?” His fingers uncurl from your forearm and his palm falls flat between your shoulder blades, giving you a gentle nudge and silent permission to avoid her hug.

The woman stops and there’s another polite, departing exchange between the two of them while you continue down the hall.

Bradley catches up to you as you rap your knuckles against the doorframe, fingers trembling when they come to settle back against your thighs.

“Miss Mitchell.” A chair scrapes along the tiled floor, Cyclone’s signature rumbling voice carrying out into the hallway. His boots tap across the ground, his face creased with sincerity and his hand outstretched when he notices Bradley standing behind you. “Bradley Bradshaw.”

You check back over your shoulder, glancing briefly at the man behind you, who has assumed his best bodyguard impression.

Standing tall, his uniform crisp and his greying black hair combed neatly, Admiral Beau Simpson slips his palm into yours and shakes your hand curtly. The sunlight catches on his shining name badge, his face heavy with lines and sharp angles.

Letting your hand go, he then reaches to your right to shake Bradley’s. Bradley’s chest bumps your back as he leans into the handshake.

You step away from him, angling yourself closer to the doorframe. “He just gave me a ride here. Is it okay if he comes in?” You answer.

“Of course,” Cyclone is far more polite to you than he has ever been to Bradley. “Anything you need. Please, take a seat.”

It feels a little bit wrong standing before his boss in jeans, and sitting before him. Everything about this feels a little bit wrong. Bradley rests his chin against his fist.

You sit in the chair beside him, shoving your trembling hands under your thighs, straightening up and trying to look as brave as you can.

It shouldn’t be this stranger sitting beside you in this meeting — your mother should have come with you.

Bradley almost scoffs. Even now, Cyclone can’t manage to compliment him.

“We are forever grateful for his service, and the sacrifices he made on behalf of our country. I understand that this is an extremely difficult time, and I’d just like to say that I’m going to personally make sure that this process is as easy as it can possibly be.”

You blink at him. Jet engines rumble on outside of the window. People bustle on outside of the closed office door.

Cyclone glances towards Bradley.

“When a man is lost in action, our resolve is to initiate a search and rescue effort as soon as possible,” The admiral explains, leaving out the part where that search and rescue effort had been delayed by seventy-two hours after Mav disappeared. “We’ve been working tirelessly, and our efforts to locate your father are ongoing.”

Your brows knit together.

“But— he’s dead.” You frown, rendering Cyclone suddenly quiet. “He’s got to be. It’s been a week. No food, no water, sub-zero temperature. What’s the point in looking?”

Bradley grits his teeth. He looks across at you, the muscle in his jaw ticking. There’s nothing in your expression, no fear or sadness. Your father deserved more than that.

“The point is to bring him home.” He bites from your side, staring straight ahead at Cyclone.

You shoot him a look. When it’s clear that you aren’t going to say anything else, Cyclone clears his throat to continue.

“Miss Mitchell, we do have to prepare ourselves for the other outcome. If recovery efforts are unsuccessful, in two weeks time, he will be listed as formally ‘Missing in Action’. If that’s the case, we will honor him with a memorial service and all of his service records and personal effects

are delivered to you.”

You drag your teeth across your bottom lip, swallowing hard and giving a small nod of your head.

“Okay. Two weeks?”

“This is going to be a longer process,” Cyclone warns you. He’d heard that you had come down specially for this, and he doesn’t want to mislead you about the time frame. “The recovery mission, if unsuccessful, will be suspended in two weeks’ time. After that, we’d like you to be local for the investigation.”

“Investigation?”

“Of ourselves. To ensure that the Navy had performed its due diligence, that kind of thing… I’d expect us to be here for a good few months.” He explains.

After that, it’s like Bradley can see a switch flip for you.

You’re biting at the inside of your cheek so hard that you must be tasting copper, picking at the seam of your jeans and breathing like you’re trying not to cry.

He’s still confused when he’s all but chasing you across the parking lot, listening to you try to control your breathing.

“Hey, hey, hey,” He tries, approaching you cautiously as you crowd yourself against the passenger side of his car. “It’s alright. We’ll get through it, it’s just a couple of months.”

“I— fuck. I don’t want to be here. I-I— I’m going to have to find a job, and I’ll have to call my mom, and— and my friends, and—“

“Hey,” Bradley mumbles, resisting the instinct to throw his arms around you. His brows draw together as he reaches out and squeezes your bicep, bending his knees so he can catch your eye. “It’s alright. I’ll take care of it.”

You know that he’s just trying to be nice, but really, you’re sick of nice. It’s all that Maverick ever was and it left you with no idea of who he really is. “Of what? There’s so much that I have to—“

He nods, closing his mouth, swallowing dryly. Thinking of what he can, feasibly, take off of your plate for you. The idea sparks in him.

“You need a job. I can get you a job. Um, your friends, we can call them and bring them down for a weekend?” He squeezes again at your bicep, nodding his way through his plans, trying to will the tears in your eyes not to spill over.

You sniff, turning your gaze towards the ground. The lump in your throat burns and bobs as you try to swallow it away.

Mav really is never coming back.

He licks his lips and glances towards the skies, watching the sun pass behind a cloud.

“You could stay at my place, for a night or two.”

…

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fireheartedpup · 3 months ago

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Fun thing about vampire media is I get to see my name slightly more often

#i don't put it here because i don't want family finding me #but it's most commonly mistaken for veronica and is the name of an english queen

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iniziare · 2 months ago

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Tag drop: Aventurine.

#aventurine. [ mr. cavalier gambler: uptight. overcautious. inferiority complex. you've won so much but you're still so afraid of losing. ]#aventurine: ic. [ they see only the straight flush. they don't know the other hand below the table clutching your chips for dear life. ]#aventurine: inquiries. [ time to make a move my friend. say goodbye before you shuffle off. it's… best to die without regrets. ]#aventurine: countenance. [ now go. and pick the clothes that you like. then choose your desired identity and use them well. ]#aventurine: introspection. [ “sleep is the rehearsal of death”? why does life slumber? because we are not ready for the final rest. ]#aventurine: meta. [ the road less traveled is less traveled for a reason. but you've never gone in any other direction. ]#aventurine: little notes. [ you will keep winning; having never lost before. but why you? why... must it be you? ]#aventurine: wishes. [ even if the chance of winning is close to zero. well... you can't win if you don't play; right? ]#aventurine: etc. [ the chance… no matter how small: the potential is what you hang onto. that is what justifies the gamble. ]#aventurine: ipc. [ … i'll give you that and much more than that. the ipc will give you whatever you want. even what you don't want. ]#aventurine: trio. [ three cornerstones who for a measly penacony... offered their everything. you're more united than the family. ]#aventurine: astral express. [ friends: the game has commenced and you cannot choose to decline… nor do you have grounds to. ]#aventurine: fate. [ if the dice of fate are always weighted then that is our destiny. why then... do we struggle against it? ]#aventurine: past. [ our paths will cross again beneath kakava's shimmering auroras. farewell: kakavasha. ]#aventurine: luck. [ he's only drunk on the moment that makes his very life quiver. hell is only one decision away from heaven. ]#aventurine: topaz. [ i never expected the beautiful and kind-hearted director topaz to resort to distorting concepts like that. ]#aventurine: topaz. [ but since i survived i realized: wherever you go that's where i'll follow; nobody's promised tomorrow. ] immobiliter.#aventurine: jade. [ it's often used as a counterfeit for jade. but it looks like jade… can be substituted for aventurine too. ]#aventurine: veritas ratio. [ unfortunately for him; i make for a more competent conversationalist than the other dimwits around here. ]#aventurine: black swan. [ nothing remains hidden from you… does it? i will find my place in the web of your schemes; memokeeper. ]#aventurine: sunday. [ is this what the harmony represents? is it built upon constraint and coercion? ]#aventurine: acheron. [ only by casting aside reason does one truly gamble. “emanator” — I know you'll match my wager. ]#aventurine: v. youth. [ but the sun could not kill me and the quicksand sent me back to the embrace of the guild and the ipc. ]#aventurine: v. penacony. [ i seem that way because i am nervous. maybe you can help. what do you say; put our palms together a last time? ]#aventurine: v. future. [ the once falling die has at last landed on its earthly rest. quietly… peacefully: it at last landed. ]#tag drop #[ ... i wanted to add in a tag for robin. but i think that may have to come personalized. ]#[ /rubs hands together. lets see if any of these are broken. ]#aventurine: robin. [ so she sings; but does she dance? ] avaere.#[ okay i changed my mind-- there's a robin tag. ]

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dailymanners · 2 days ago

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@that-bloody-linguist

That is really concise and to the point, and that attitude sounds very hauntingly familiar to what I see here.

I am very grateful that I never saw teens purposefully coughing in the face of old people, but I did see a similar attitude of "How DARE you tell me what to do even if it's for the benefit of everyone around me!"

When I worked retail over the mask mandate days about half my customers would flip me off, cuss me out, scream at me, or even try to reach over the counter and harm me when I asked them to put on a mask. Pretty often I see Icelandic teens and young adults do things like, intentionally throw their trash on the ground when they're only a meter or two away from the nearest trash can and smugly strut away from their empty soda can now just sitting on the ground. It's this idea of "How DARE someone tell me where I can and can't dispose of my trash, how DARE someone tell me where and how I can cough." It's this obsession with being ungovernable and nobody getting a say in their actions or behaviors, even when their actions or behaviors are directly harming someone else.

I've had Icelanders tell me it's unavoidable to see this kind of behavior here because they believe this obsession with being ungovernable (even to the point of harming others) is grafted right onto their DNA, because the Norse people who left Norway to settle Iceland were people who wanted to live independently without being ruled or governed by the king of Norway.

For what it's worth, I don't believe in that. I don't think "self centered jerk" can be found in anyone's DNA. I think it has more to do with the fact that Iceland has been a rural agrarian society, where people lived in small isolated family farms, for most of Iceland's history. So, for most of the country's history people rarely, if ever, were interacting with anyone outside of their small close knit communities. Urban areas where people actually have to see and interact with strangers on a regular basis is a fairly new phenomenon to Iceland, so this idea of "maybe you should be considerate of other people, yes even if you don't know them" is a fairly new concept to Iceland. Some are more resistant to this than others.

An obsession with independence is also a major part of the Icelandic identity. The first and only Icelandic novel to receive a Nobel prize is "Sjálfstætt fólk" (Independent People) by Halldór Laxness. The central theme of the novel is criticizing the Icelandic cultural obsession with independence, and the main protagonist of the novel is portrayed as a very cruel, selfish man for his obsessive pursuit of total independence. But it's also very interesting to note that the Icelandic word for independent, sjálfstætt, would more literally translate to "self standing" in English, and I think it really is more accurate to many Icelander's concept of independence to have "self" right in the word.

For important nuance, of course a major reason independence is so important to the Icelandic cultural identity is the centuries long struggle for independence from Danish rule. It is right, healthy, and just to want to be free from tyranny, from unjust rules, from being controlled and manipulated by others.

However, in many western cultures, you can find this hyper-obsession with independence and being ungovernable to the point of being actively destructive and harmful to the people around you, when the obsession of being ungovernable is self obsession, me me me self self self. However, We Live In A Society.

For anyone interested in the theme of obsession with independence and being ungovernable -> obsession with self -> cruelty and malice I do recommend reading Independent People by Halldor Laxness. That book won a Nobel prize for a reason.

I do try to avoid grumbling about rude/inconsiderate people as much as I can on this blog because I want to keep the tone of the blog positive and helpful rather than "grumpy person nagging you to behave better while always griping and being grumpy about people being rude". It's also why I try to balance my posts between "do this kind thing that's nice and considerate" and "avoid this inconsiderate behavior" instead of just having it all the latter so I'm not the nagging and complaining blog.

Nevertheless, I am human, and I make this post for the hopes of discussion and feedback as much as it is me griping about this.

I thought COVID would make people more conscious about covering their mouth when they cough or sneeze in public + respecting other people's person space bubbles more. Somehow, the opposite seems to have happened? I don't know if it's just where I live, but I feel like people have somehow gotten *worse* about open mouth coughing and sneezing in public and invading other people's personal space. How?? Why??

I also feel like I don't see parents / guardians / caretakers teaching their kids to cover their mouth when they cough or sneeze anymore. I understand you can't expect a baby or a young toddler to cover their mouth. But a kid as old as 6, 7, 8+ should be able to. Now it's a daily thing whether I'm in public or visiting friends/family with kids that I see their little ones who are in primary school open mouth coughing and sneezing right at other people while their parent / guardian just stares at them with a blank expression and doesn't react.

Of course, this is 100% the adult's fault for not enforcing this behavior, I'm not trying to hate on kids for not getting proper guidance from the adults in their life. And of course kids mirror the behavior they see in adults, and if the adults around them are open mouth coughing and sneezing of course they'll mimic that. I just think it's disappointing that this has somehow gotten worse instead of better after enduring an airborne pandemic spread by coughing.

Anyway, I don't know if it's just me or just the area that I live in, but does anyone else feel like people have somehow gotten worse about covering their mouth when they cough or sneeze + teaching kids to do the same?

#aaaand here's an essay on my biggest gripe with Icelandic society that nobody asked for #long post

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schizowitchic · 2 months ago

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also like i partially found out i might be intersex because i was looking at trans stuff and there was like "(however many) months on t and finally seeing some bottom growth" and like pictures of t-dicks and i was like.... um.... that's kind of just what my clit looks like anyways. so i was like "hey google give me a quick rundown on this" and learned what clitoromegaly was and then i was like. hm. intersex resources. and it's like a sign? symptom? side-effect? of certain intersex conditions

#i mean like pcos runs in the mums side of my family but i dont have all the symptoms of that #i do also have like. more hair?? than the average afab person #like dark hair on my stomach and chest and back #and my face. whats disappointing about the face hair is that it isnt enough to be able to grow a beard #so i cant even fuck with gender that way #tagging as nsft just because of like genital mention #genital mention #nsft #shoutout to transmascs on t who show their t-dicks on the internet it was really helpful #also i dont know how to describe it but like. my natural face shape is kind of masculine??#like it would be plausible for a cis amab perisex man to have my face without looking feminine #if you get what im saying??#if it sounds like im reinforcing sex or gender essentialism please say i am struggling to find words #unshoutout to the boys in primary school who made fun of me for having hair under my arms and starting a whole decade of insecurity-#-about having hair on my body lmao #for the record i dont think certain face shapes are indicative of gender and all im just going by like. patterns?? in afab vs. amab faces #also not that i think afab vs. amab is the entire categorisation of human sex characteristics but um. working with what vocab i have here #i think what also really kicked it off. was relating to a fair few experiences intersex people have socially #particularly intersex ppl who were afab and faced a lot of pressure to make their bodies conform to feminine beauty standards #and it was like.... oh lol.... my mum did that to me!!#it comes from her own internalised shit bc she has pcos (idk if she identifies as intersex even tho she could if she wanted) but still.#dont project that onto a 10 yr old lmao. she keeps buying me hair removal products #ALSO floored by an experience i have. in which apparently half my friends dont feel pressure to shave their legs #because the hair on their legs is like. light and thin and barely visible and i was like?? huh??#what do you MEAN your legs don't look like your brothers/fathers if you dont shave??#im starting to think they dont shave their arms. their arms might just naturally not have a load of hair #i dont shave my arms though. cannot be bothered with that and also like. why would i do that #also you know that like. happy trail i think its called?? on “men's” stomachs??#yeah i have that naturally yeah thats right im naturally sexy #if you cant tell i am putting “girls” “mens” “boys” “womens” etc. in quotes to indicate that is just the normal society way of saying it

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hexastitchimera · 5 months ago

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Genuine observation, no sass and no disrespect, but being someone who is chronically OFFline & an active volunteer/activist for over a decade, and seeing what people say is "crucial discourse" online is... Quite the trip, honestly.

#vee vibrates #I understand that some things are more important to others than they are to me but.#I really need people to understand that sometimes you're better off volunteering at a shelter of ANY kind if you want to commit real change.#Online advocacy is crucial but man am I worried as hell for the kids that don't seem to understand that offline is even moreso.#And being disabled + queer myself I know that it can (and often is) a safety and accessibility issue but zoouniverse.org exists.#That website where you solve history and math quizzes to give rice to impovrished families is online.#Just. Anything that puts this aggressive “”advocacy“” to rest. Ego will be the death of us and we don't need anymore of it.#And if anybody reads this and finds themselves getting upset ask yourself this: Why does this upset me? Do I see myself in this?#Because you'd know that I am speaking out of genuine desperation when I say all of this.#I am not any better than any online activist just because I do a lot of work offline.#I am just so fucking tired of seeing people misdirect their rightful frustrations and fall further prey to the elites' divisive desires.#Is it so much to ask of you all to finally be angry at those who truly make our lives miserable? Or are we just going to keep playing cop?#At the end of the day it's your choice. I cannot force you. However you will grow old one day and look back. Remember that.#I for one don't want to have any regrets about any time I wasted on bigots and trolls and people who have already decided on their opinions.#I want to look back and be grateful for the opportunity to help so many people as many helped me in my direst times of need.#I think that's the difference here. A lot of online folk didn't go through the poverty & severe abuse & bigotry I faced since I was born.#I went through hell and came out kinder in the end because I was at the end of the proverbial whip myself at several points before 16.#But trauma doesn't make you compassionate. You choose to be. And I choose to never repeat the cycle.#The day I do is the day I've lost both my mind and my spirit. I will never repeat my family's & abusers' horrific mistakes.#I will be kinder to a world that needs kindness now more than ever. Even if I scream my throat out forever doing so.#I don't need a voice to be heard.#Anyways sorry. I woke up on the desparate side of the bed. Thank you to all who fight the good fight.#Despite everything I've said I have so much more faith and hope now more than ever. We will prevail.#And thank you if you read all of these tags?? Safety love and solidarity to you you're the MVP. ;_; 💜

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weirdly-specific-but-ok · 9 months ago

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Heylo my maggotsies... I'm sorry to do this but I have a thing that I really, really need to do (thank you Ash for helping me realise that) but I'm terrified to. so well. I'm going to make one of the posts (Neil reblogged me a couple of days ago so I feel pretty safe making one now since he only lurks by once in two weeks so this is as good a time as it gets to make a post and not expect many notes, yes I'm an overthinker and I'm actually scared of this getting notes).

Sigh. Here goes.

...I'm scared of even typing it.

Nope okay I can do this let's go.

If this post gets 1k notes, I'll look up jobs in design and film making that don't need a college degree.

2k notes, I'll sign up for an Alliance Francaise course so I can have another language on my CV, and I'll find a course that teaches me how to use design software.

5k, I'll look up distance learning alternatives, because just talking about physical college yesterday made me spend the whole morning and afternoon today in and out of nightmares screaming. Fuck.

10k, I'll tell my mum that I can't do the offline college. She's been talking to me about it, but I've been dodging because I'm not well-off and I really need to be earning and idk how to do that without college and I feel so guilty.

15k, I'll officially back out from the college (does that count as dropping out, if it hasn't begun? maybe half. i am a college and a half dropout, my 11th grade self would hate me and my 10th grade self would refuse to believe it).

I don't know what I'll do then. I don't know how to live as trans here in India, I don't know how to earn enough to be able to help my family, I don't know what I'm good at and I'm so fucking terrified. But. I spoke to @random-doctor-on-the-internet last night (I love you Ash you're such a fucking amazing human) and they made me realise that well maybe landing in a hospital with steroids to relieve an allergy attack because of exam stress isn't normal and so.

Well. Here I am. I know I can't do it, but I'm scared to risk everything, it's just not something people do here, dropping out. But also (TW s**cide statistics mentioned below the cut)... And so I've just. Got to do it, got to save myself and say no to college (cue say no to school, kids joke). Somehow be brave enough. And yeah.

To quote a financial express article: "In an alarming situation, a total of 7,62,648 suicides were reported in India between 2018 to 2022, Of this student suicides account for 7.6% at 59,239". Maybe if more people did say fuck you to the system here, that wouldn't be the case. That number could have been 59,240 (aside from everyone who wasn't counted and hushed up), that could have been me, and I don't want to put myself in that situation again. You know? Yeah.

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all4yoi · 3 months ago

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𝒥ust a bet﹕hyung line

𝑒nhypen x fem!reader ︎︎⚹︎ cw: angst, no fluff (yet), reader is mostly viewed as a loser and nerd, lowercase intended, kinda went overboard with hoon's, reader gets called a bitch once, not proofread!

sypnosis﹕after a few months of dating, you find out you were just a bet.

part two !

★ LEE HEESEUNG (wc 0.3k)

you and lee heeseung has been dating for a total of five months, and throughout those months you can confidently say that you were the happiest. he was the perfect boyfriend, his family loved you and so did yours.

today, heeseung promised he would take you on a date after his basketball practice despite your protests on how he should be resting instead. you wouldn't have agreed if it weren't for the fact that he had shot you with his pleading big doe eyes that never fails to make you agree on whatever he asks for.

so here you were, making your way towards the gymnasium with your bag hanging on your left shoulder. the lack of dribbling and smacking basketball noise from behind the closed doors told you that their practice was done.

entering quietly out of habit, you were about to approach your boyfriend when you overheard his teammates talking to him.

"don't tell me you're still with her?" asked one of boys, an amused smile on his face. heeseung only raised a brow.

"what? you won the bet, you can dump her now. you're ruining our image you know? plus she's a total nerd and loser, you're much better with someone like yunhee." and with only just a few words, you felt your world crashing down.

right, who would date someone like you? you always found it weird, that heeseung just approached you one day in your biology class with the cheekiest smile on his face. the fact that he wouldn't leave you alone until you've agreed to go on a date with him. it all made sense now, why the popular basketball captain suddenly gained interest on the school's "biggest nerd."

"speaking of.." another guy spoke, nodding towards you with a cheeky smile. heeseung turned around only to be met with your glassy eyes.

you didn't move, wanting to hear him defend you. wanting to tell his teammates that you weren't a bet and he actually liked you throughout the months you two have been dating.

his silence said everything and with that you turned away and ran out of the gym.

"shit." he muttered, running after you.

★ PARK JONGSEONG (wc 0.3k)

"i'll pick you up later, okay?" your boyfriend of almost a year said softly through the phone. you've been dating jay since the first week of your first year in uni, others found your relationship weird. maybe because back in high school, jay never and refused to even spare you a glance. he was an asshole who looked at you as if you were the epitome of disgusting.

but the past is in the past now, right?

"okay baby, see you." you reply and put your phone down on your table, knowing that he's usually the one who ends the call.

you go back to the papers scattered on your table. the silence in your room was disturbed by sudden noises in your phone, turning to look, you see that jay hasn't ended the call.

picking your phone up with a smile, you were about to call out for him but a voice stopped you.

"i can't believe you've gone this far dude." you recognized the slightly muffled voice, it was a friend of jongseong's.

"what do you mean?" your boyfriend grumbled. the audio was muffled, you figured he was moving and the phone was in his pocket.

"you're still dating her!" the voice exclaimed, as if amused. "seriously, i didn't think you'd take that bet seriously. fine you win, i'll clean your car for a month. but you've gotta cut it out, you're starting to disgust me." the boy laughed.

before you could hear what your boyfriend would say, you ended the call. your hand was trembling and tears were falling from your eyes unconsciously.

were all those months just a joke to him? were your feelings really worth a free car wash for just a month? were you that unworthy?

jay was an asshole back in high school, you thought he changed. turns out he didn't, you felt like a fool for falling for his antics.

★ SIM JAEYUN (wc 0.3k)

if someone would be asked who you were, they'd all say the same thing. a loner, pathetic loser, and a nobody with a pretty face.

because what was a pretty face if you had no friends and a social life?

you almost believed you would die alone, you were too socially awkward to make friends. so when sim jaeyun, the transferee, approached you with a warm smile and a hand outstretched for a shake, you were beyond shocked.

your relationship went from being block mates, friends, then next thing you knew you two were dating. at first you were reluctant to enter a relationship, scared that it would ruin your friendship, but he insisted you both tried. that was three months ago.

you didn't have any friends, but atleast you had jake.

jake who smiles at you as if you had carved the stars in your hands. jake who would never forget to bring your coffee every morning. he was everything you ever needed. he was it for you, you only hoped he felt the same towards you.

walking through the hallway of the school, you stopped infront of your locker only to be met with a sticky note on it.

HOW LONG CAN JAKE LAST WITH LOSER L/N?

A WEEK : 卌 - 卌 - 卌 - 卌 - III

FIVE MONTHS : 卌 - I

A YEAR : II

Furrowing your brows, you stare at the note as your breathing grew heavy. It was obvious that the paper was old, it had folds and it was only stuck on your locker with a washi tape.

"what are you doing l/n? go on, cast your vote." a mocking voice said from beside you followed by a bunch of laughter. "personally, i thought he'd last a day. i guess i'll vote for five months then." then the hand went and tallied on the five months category.

"what's going on here?" upon hearing your boyfriend's voice, you fled away immediately, not wanting to face him. everytime something good happens in your life, it's always ripped away from you. jake was just like them, you were just a toy for their own entertainment.

★ PARK SUNGHOON (wc 0.5k)

"i'm sorry baby, i really am busy with practice tomorrow." your boyfriend, sunghoon, says in genuine sorry. it was the fifth time you have asked him to meet your parents, who also by the way was so desperate to meet the boy you've been dating for seven months now.

every time you ask him, he's always busy. either with practice, a project, a family matter, or whatever excuse he can come up with. but you always brush it off, knowing he means well and he really is busy as he's an athlete student.

"i'll meet them next week, okay? i promise." that's also the same thing he says everytime too, and once again, you only nod in response.

you and sunghoon met in a physics class. he was clutching his head with a frown on his face as he desperately tried to understand what the professor was going on about.

you remember clearly the way he approached you in the library, a physics book on his left hand as his right scratched his nape. "can.. i noticed- uh, can you help me with this topic?"

that was where your relationship started. you tutored him and helped him improve his grade. when he got an A on the finals, he kissed you on the lips in glee. he was taken aback by his own actions but nevertheless asked you out after.

"i love you," he whispers, pressing a kiss on your temple. "let me get something from my room." you hum in response as he takes his arm that was previously wrapped around you before going up to his room.

you can't help but notice the way his phone was blowing up from beside you.

you weren't the type to snoop around other people's phones, especially your boyfriend. it just felt wrong, you trusted him fully. but the way it kept ringing with text notifications, you just couldn't help it.

looking back to the stairs, you note he isn't back and there was still rummaging noises from his room.

taking his phone, you enter his passcode and read the messages from one of his group chats.

JONGSU

lol don't tell me she asked again.. em ba rrah sing

DAEHYUN

hahah when is she gonna take a hint?? 💀

JOON

you gonna blame her? hoon's been at it for months lmao

DAEHYUN

i actually can't believe he went that far, wasn't it only supposed to be for a month? 🗿

JONGSU

a week actually, but ig that bitch y/n was so easy. yk hoon likes to get his ego fed 💀💀

putting the phone down, you exhaled in disbelief. you took your bag from the floor and threw it over your shoulder and went to the door of his apartment to put your shoes back on.

"baby?" sunghoon emerged from the stairs, looking at you curiously. "you're going already?" he asked, extending an arm towards you but you slapped it away. the tears on your eyes shocking him.

"hey, hey what's wrong?" he tried again but his hand was yet again slapped away.

"i don't want to see you ever again." was the last words you uttered to him (shakily) before leaving his apartment.

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nightingale-prompts · 3 months ago

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Danny adopts himself

It's a common joke in Gotham that Bruce Wayne will adopt any black-haired and blue-eyed traumatized boy he finds. So much so that even he leans into it. But he was completely shocked when Damian confronts him about having a new brother that he did not want.

Bruce could barely get a word in when the rest of the family arrived upset that they weren't told about getting another sibling after Damian texted the family group chat (for once).

Damian had encountered a boy around Drake's age moving stuff into what was an empty room. The room was now furnished top to bottom with glowing green lights, tapestries of stars, random artifacts, several telescopes, and model rockets.

He knew the moment he saw the black hair and blue eyes that his father had taken in another ward.

Apparently Bruce was the last the know about his new "son" who was currently rearranging furniture and asking to help Alfred with dinner.

Said dinner was an uncomfortable as Bruce was grilled by his kids on his addiction to adoption. Simultaneously they tried to get to know the new addition to the family.

It was easy to see that Damian didn't like Danny but it was equally easy to see that Danny could cow the boy like a border collie on a lamb. When Damian thew a dagger the teen caught it with one hand as it passed his face and then slid it across the table back to Damian.

"Try again. " Danny said "And this time don't aim to miss on purpose. If you want me dead you need to do better."

Damian put the knife away and huffed.

Tim and Danny hit it off almost instantly. The way they were able to bounce their thoughts back and forth made Tim believe that he found an equal.

Danny was able to understand Cassie immediately with just look in eachothers eyes like he was reading her mind but not in a creepy way.

Jason of course noticed the strange energy in the air around the kid. It was soothing. Like lavender wafting in the air. Well lavender for everyone else for him it was like opium. His eyes felt heavy like he had eaten a handful of poppy seeds. At the same time he felt full, like he had eating a full meal after starving for a week.

Whatever it is Damian was feeling it too. The demon looked even more his age as he rubbed his eyes and yawned. The crease in his brow gone.

Duke on the other hand was more on edge as his eyes flickered towards Danny before looking away. He had something he wanted to ask about the glowing boy but since no one can see it or just isn't saying anything he will keep quiet for now.

Next was Barbara who teased the new kid.

"So how do you like your new family? Ready to be the new robin?" She asked.

"Im robin." Damian mumbled groggily.

The others were waiting for Damian to finally fall asleep and glared at one another in a challenge to be the one to pick up Damian and put him to bed. Dick was winning.

Speaking of Dick, as expected he was off the wall excited to learn more about his new little brother. He wanted the full story as to why Bruce took him in. He could almost certainly guess it was because of a tragic situation and Dick was already ready to handle it as the greatest big brother ever and he wasn't sharing the title no matter what Barbara said. Even if she was Stephanie's favorite.

Bruce cleared his throat and the table went silent. "So, Danny. Where exactly did you come from? Why are you here? And how did you know who I am?"

Everyone went white. Did they all just risk their identities believing that Danny was a new Robin? Why didn't Bruce say something? Not even a signal for the protocol they would use.

Danny frowned looking a bit hurt.

"What do you mean, Bruce? You said you owed me. You said you'd give me anything I wanted if saved your son. I even helped you get back home when you got lost in time." Danny huffed feeling betrayed.

The table went silent.

Bruce made a few calculations in his brain before something must have come to mind. "I lost my memory for a bit so I need a bit of proof."

Danny placed a batarang on the table. The batarang had an engraving on it in a code that only Bruce knew.

"You told me to show this to Alfred when I came. We had a deal, Bruce. You promised me whatever I wanted." Danny huffed clearly insulted.

Just like Danny had said the code was the one Bruce had made. However this code wasn't a promise to grant a favor but to welcome someone new to the family. Past Bruce must have had plans to take the boy in but told Danny something else to lure him here.

Bruce recognized that everyone was right and he has a problem now that he's looking at it like this.

#dp x dc prompt #dc x dp prompt #dpxdc #dc x dp #danny phantom #danny fenton #batman #damian wayne #bruce wayne #jason todd #nightwing #red hood #duke thomas #tim drake #red robin

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ccsainzleclerc5516 · 5 months ago

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Snuggles On The Couch

Pairing: Lando Norris x reader

Warnings: smut

When Lando has a weekend off from racing he tries to come home to England from time to time and visit his family. Of course, since he doesn't want to spend a second away from you, he always asks you to go with him, and you always agree because you like spending time with his family. You get along well, you have a lot of topics to talk about and it's never boring in their company.

It was the same this weekend. You spent the whole day hanging out outside in the yard of the Norris family home. The whole family was together, and Lando was hovering around you all the time making sure you weren't bored, and besides it comes naturally to him that he has to be near you all the time and have physical contact with you.

When evening came you had dinner together after which Lando's sisters went out with their friends and his mom and dad greeted you and went upstairs wanting to give you some privacy down in the living room.

Feeling a little exhausted from the day, you stretched and yawned loudly before your head hit the pillow on the couch in front of the TV.

"You feeling tired?" Lando asked coming from the kitchen towards you.

"A bit, yeah" You yawn again.

"It's barely 9 p.m. baby, do you wanna go to sleep already?" He asks sitting down on the couch and putting your legs over his lap. "Thought we could watch a movie before bed?

"Yeah, sure, why not. I can't promise that I'll see the end of the movie awake though" You smile sleepily.

While you were looking for a movie on netflix, Lando settled comfortably sideways behind you, wrapping his arm around your waist and pulling you closer to his chest. He started kissing your neck tickling you and making you giggle.

"Lan, you're distracting me"

"I missed you today" He says nuzzling his nose against your shoulder.

"You missed me? We've been literally together all day."

"Yeah, but" He sighs. "you didn't pay much attention to me and I had to share you with others. I want you to myself now."

You turn your head to look at him rolling your eyes and laughing. He takes the chance to kiss your lips running his tongue over your bottom lip, but you don't let him in. Instead you break the kiss and focus your attention to finding the movie to watch.

Lando wasn't really interested in watching the movie at all. He actually suggested the movie just to try to keep you awake a little longer to get what he wanted. His lips were attached to your neck as his hands slowly began to roam your body, sliding them under your shirt and squeezing your breasts over your bra.

"Lan..stop it" You half whispered half moaned squirming a little.

"Just keep looking for the movie" He murmured against your skin grinding himself against your ass.

You could clearly feel how hard he was as he squeezed your hip and pulled your ass into his crotch. You squeezed your thighs clenching around nothing as he tried to slip his hand in between them.

"Lando, no. We're in the living room, there's no chance" You resisted taking his wrist and trying to move it away.

"C'mon, baby. Let me touch you, please." He whines quietly forcing your thighs apart. "Can't you feel what you're doing to me?"

"I'm too tired and there's no way we're having sex on your parent's couch"

"You don't have to do anything. You just lay here and find a movie and I'll do all the work, yeah? Just let me feel your pussy please.." He groaned biting your shoulder.

Your common sense told you no, but your body responded differently to his touches. Especially when he kissed you just below the ear and rubbed your pussy over your tights. Your lips instantly parted and eyes closed as you took his wrist, but didn't stop him.

"How come you're so wet if you don't want it, baby? Hm? I feel it through those tights of yours" He murmured continuing to work his fingers over your clothed clit while his other hand gently grabbed your neck.

You couldn't bring yourself to say anything nor to open your eyes. You just hoped he wouldn't stop what he was doing.

"I'm gonna fuck you right here, right now, nice and gentle, yeah?"

You nodded and that was all it took for him to pull your tights down just below your ass and free his cock from his now already too tight pants and boxers.

"Soaking wet" He groaned playing with your pussy. He collected your wetness with his fingertips rubbing it over the tip of his cock. "You ready for me, darling?"

You answered his question by arching your back for him letting him put his tip on your entrance. He teased your hole a little before pushing himself in and burying his head into the crook of your neck to quietly groan into it. You whimpered at the feeling of his cock filling you. Before he started thrusting, he put his hand on your hip to rock you back and forth on his hard cock.

"Been thinking about this all day, fuck baby" He grunted starting to move in and out of you slowly.

"What if someone walks in here?" You worried, but the feeling was too good to stop.

"I don't care, I'll just keep fucking you until we both finish" Tingles ran through your body at his words and you let out a louder moan than you intended. His other hand immediately went up to cover your mouth. "Quiet, love, quiet"

He was fucking you deep and slow keeping your mouth covered with his hand and leaving wet kisses over your skin.

"You like how I'm fucking you, hm?" He whispered in your ear.

"Faster, Lan please" You quietly cried out.

"You need it faster, baby? I'll give you faster" He said lifting up your leg and increasing his pace. His eyes followed your movements as your hand slid down to your clit quickly rubbing it in circles. His eyes rolled in his head at the sight. "Oh fuck..Are you getting close?" He asked hoping that you were because he knew he couldn't last much longer.

"Yes, Lan, uh-yes"

"Me too. I just wanna come for you, baby"

He kept thrusting in you and soon you could feel him twitching inside. You knew he was about to come as his breath started quivering.

"I'm gonna cum inside so we don't make a mess, yeah?" He barely managed to say. You moaned squeezing your thighs together and clenching around his cock. It send both of you over the edge as the familiar feeling of pleasure coursed through your body.

"Oh fuck, yes, yes baby come all over my cock" He pressed you against his chest burying his head into your neck once again until both of your rode out your orgasms.

He pulled your chin with his fingers to face him and you smiled flushing avoiding his eyes.

"What? Why are you so shy all of a sudden?" He chuckled.

"Because..this was so wrong" You sighed shaking your head.

"It was, that's why you came so hard, baby"

#lando norris smut #lando norris fluff #lando x reader #lando norris x you #lando norris #lando norris imagine #f1 fanfic #f1 fic #f1 #f1 smut #f1 one shot #f1 imagine #f1 blurb #f1 fluff #f1 x reader

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hedgehog-moss · 2 months ago

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I've said goodbye to half of my greenhouse goldfish! And the other half will follow later. I started out with goldfish when my aquaponics system was new as they are quite resilient to variations in pH, etc, but I decided it was time to move on to edible fish (carp.) I feel like carp have a bad reputation (as food) but my mum used to fish & cook them when I was little and I liked them—I'll have to ask her to teach me how she prepared them...

To thank my goldfish for their good work fertilising my greenhouse plants, I wanted to find a nice place for them to retire. Here's their new home :)

One of my distant neighbours has this artificial pond where he used to have goldfish but their population got decimated by a gluttonous otter. I hope *my* fish will be smart and agile enough to escape her, and if not, well... the otter's family has to eat...

The process of finding a new home for my fish went as follows: 1. Find an old lady, for example Mrs L. at the library, who likes to talk about people's lives and minor problems 2. Tell her in passing that I have goldfish I'd like to donate 3. Wait a few days, then go buy groceries.

The cashier told me "Oh hey, Mrs L. told me to tell you she knows someone who knows someone who wants your fish. She gave me a piece of paper with his phone number"

4. Success.

I called this person, and it turned out to be the farmer I often buy hay from, who told me all about his problematic otter and said he'd like to repopulate his pond. I offered to bring him my fish, and then proceeded to procrastinate for several weeks. I realised this week that I was going to see this neighbour again soon (when he comes to deliver my hay) and it would be embarrassing if I still hadn't made good on my promise to deliver fish, so I finally set to work catching 15 goldfish.

It took so long. I think the reason I procrastinated is because my subconscious knew catching them would be a pain. They are so quick and nimble! And unlike otters I am not designed for this. There was one barracuda of a goldfish that I particularly wanted to catch, but she was too smart for me. She feinted and hid behind the filter and sacrificed fellow goldfish by pushing them into my net instead of her, it was very dramatic and eventually I had to give up on catching her.

(I even tried to use a large piece of chicken netting on top of my fish net, but of course it was very light and floated at the surface. I considered tying little rocks to it so it'd sink, and then realised I had single-handedly (re)invented bottom trawling. But I don't want to be a bottom trawler, it sounds like an insult. I'll have to try and catch my monster goldfish some other time when she least expects it.)

On my way to my neighbour's farm, I ran into a cow roadblock. Normally I would have pushed the cows aside, removed the rope across the road then put it back behind me after crossing the cowblock��but the cow in charge looked grouchy to me.

I made a détour.

Then, because the universe really didn't want me to deliver my goldfish, I ran into a goose patrol when I reached my neighbour's farm. I now know how Odysseus felt when Poseidon kept throwing sea monsters and other obstacles at him to prevent him from reaching his destination.

I dispatched Pandolf to parley with them and he looked very unenthused by his mission.

Fortunately, the geese were in a good mood and politely escorted us to the pond.

Goodbye, friends! Remember, there's a snake in this Eden. An adorable, web-footed, fish-eating snake.

Most of the fish dispersed quickly, but I thought it was so cute how these two leisurely swam away together...

And so I went and bought new fish for my greenhouse tanks. I'm going to miss the goldfish! They're cheerful to look at and I liked sitting by the tank and watching them go about their day. My new fish are better camouflaged and will be harder to observe. But it was fun watching their first introduction to goldfish society :)

#crawling along

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onmyyan · 2 months ago

Note

hi again i'm the Anon who asked if you take commisions only or requests as well. I love your writing style<3

Soo could you write about Batmom reader, where reader took care of bruce's children as her own. But then bruce gets a mistress, reader still stays becuz of the kids but when everyone started to become cold to her and insult her ' X (mistress) is better mom then you ever were' she leaves gonthem. Then everyone realises she (mistress) was just after their money. They go to batmom's room to apologize only to find it empty. They try to find her everywhere but couldn't. And finally when they do, reader rejects them since she was having the time of her life without responsibilty but gets kiddnapped by the batfam?

Honestly i wanted to commision but i'm flat broke and i'm too busy studying to work and on top of that i don't have my own phone (i use my dad's old laptop) soo yeah... I hope you consider this.

A/N: Loooove this request thank you for sending it in <3 fem reader yandere themes lmk if you want a part two

The (L/n)'s were a wealthy and prominent family in Gotham, right up there with the Wayne's when it came to power over the city, the two families were in business together which is why when Bruce Wayne personal attorney came to you with a marriage proposal, you weren't surprised.

A marriage of convenience. You thought you knew what this would entitle, you knew this wasn't out of love, that this was required of you, it had nothing to do with what you actually wanted, but you were dutiful and signed, inking your name on the paper felt like a deal with the devil.

Bruce hadn't bothered to officially meet you until the day of the wedding, it was beautiful and well done but lacking any form of love of affection, CEOs and other rich folk you didn't recognize filled the pews, the ring felt cold when he slipped it on, his vows perfectly rehearsed, and not an ounce of warmth in his eyes, you knew that night you should have annulled the marriage, but something made you hold on, something your mother had said to you as the makeup artist turned you into the visage of a bride.

"You'll learn to love each other, your father and I did after all." And she wasn't lying, your parents married for convenience as well but had grown to love one another, so maybe you could do the same?

A year after the nuptials Dick Grayson is thrust into your life. Haley's circus was famous in Gotham for its incredible death defying shows, but on this night death would walk the stage, taking with them Dick Grayson's parents in a horrible display, You and Bruce had consoled the boy for only a moment before Bruce was talking to the officers, he'd decided Dick was coming home with you, of course without asking your opinion, but it didn't matter, you felt such pity and grief for the boy, it made perfect sense to you, he was shut down for the first few months, he called you by your name and you had no problem with it, making it clear you never wanted to try and replace his mother, the ice between you two melted one day, one kind word at a time, he couldn't help but confide in you about school or his friends, because you were more emotionally there than Bruce was.

Like the night you caught him sneaking out, a packed bag in hand and the keys to one of Bruce's many cars in his hand. Instead of yelling for Bruce or Alfred you simply smiled at him, "you should take the audi, it's the safest car here."

"..You're not going to try and stop me?"

You shake your head no, still offering that kind smile.

"You know yourself best Dick, if you're unhappy here I won't stop you from finding your peace." He took a moment before tossing you the keys and reluctantly making his way back inside.

You find out about Batman because of Dick. He'd come home with some nasty bruises and it wouldn't take long to put two and two together. Them both being missing at the same time, Dick started to pull away from you, one night, after hours of trying to get to sleep in a bed much to big for one body, your legs decided a walk was necessary, the halls were dark and quiet, giving the manor an eerie air, quietly you walked the long hallways intending on stopping by the library, as you turned the corner you seen Dick in a hidden elevator, the doors just slamming shut as your eyes tried to register what was there. Seconds after the doors close a wall appears, as if nothing was ever there. It's not long after that you see a brief news clip of the caped crusader and his new sidekick, because the longer you stared at the screen, the more familiar they began to look, that dead tight lipped scowl on Batman's face, it was one you'd had the pleasure of looking at for the past few years.

That night you confronted Bruce, he seemed surprised you'd figured it out, but he didn't deny it. Simply saying, "It's late (Y/n), get some sleep."

You nearly divorced him then and there for endangering a child the way he was, but after a moment of thought, you realized Dick would need a real parent around so you stayed, making Bruce swear to be careful.

Jason comes next and he takes to you a lot faster than Dick. He craved the warmth you offered, you two had inside jokes and a closer relationship than him and Bruce, but that all changes the day he dies. You're broken, a ghost haunting the manor with your presence, and Bruce is no comfort throwing himself into the Batman role, you begin to hate him a little with this particular betrayal.

Tim was another hard egg to crack but you were desperate after Jason's death, so you took his verbal lashings with a smile, were always there to offer a helping hand with any of his projects despite the help never being accepted. Tims wound from losing his father is too raw, he takes a lot of his anger out on you. And you weathered the storm with a soft, warm smile.

Damian hated you, from the moment he arrives, which is bitter enough as is because it meant Bruce was unfaithful, he's spitting out insults and comparing you to his 'perfect' mother.

Things weren't great in your life, but one day they started getting noticably worse. Dick no longer responded to your check in texts, Jason (now reanimated which was a heart attack in and of itself) saw you as the enemy, you didn't leave Bruce after what happened to him, so in his eyes you betrayed him, Tim ignored your existence as best as he could, and Damian? He'd started staring at you with this smug look on his face, like he knew something you didn't.

Bruce had all but ran from you, he didn't sleep in your shared room anymore, he barely spoke to you at breakfast, if it wasn't for the cameras he wouldn't touch you.

And it's all because of a woman named Rachel.

Apparently Bruce had introduced this woman to the family, bringing her around when you weren't, slowly replacing you, it was no wonder they started to pull back.

Alfred is the only reason you find out, having enough of the blatant disrespect, he calls you to come home early one day saying it's a dire matter. Of course you comply, and walk in on a discomforting sight. The whole family was gathered at the dining room table, plus a woman you'd never seen before, she sat close to Bruce, toying with his hand intimately. Her green eyes lock with yours and the smile she gives you forms a pit in your stomach.

There's silence before Bruce stands up, he walks over calmly, "Can we take this in the other room." But it wasn't phrased as a question.

"No" you licked your lips, a nervous habit from your youth. Bruce seemed taken back by your sudden backbone. He nods silently.

"I want her gone Bruce. I am your wife. You will show me that semblance of respect."

"I- of course." You don't wait for the words to settle instead, you calmly walk to your room, face unreadable.

Locking the door behind you, your body slides against the frame, a silent sob wracks your frame, your hands covering your mouth, you wouldn't give them the satisfaction of hearing your cries.

The next morning you wake up to breakfast in bed, a generic yet elegant spread of food lay on a tray in the empty spot Bruce used to stay. The man himself sitting in the chair beside the bed, staring at you with that practiced smile he used to appease people.

"Good morning."

"What's this?" You sat up straight, sleep evaporating from your form as you took in the threat before you.

"An apology. I never meant for yesterday to happen."

"What a comfort that is." Your piercing (e/c) eyes stare at him blankly, unreadable. "How long."

"A year." You scoff pushing the breakfast away from you like it was poisonous. "But its not what you think, Rachel is a childhood friend, a year ago our relationship, evolved into what it is now, but I was never intending to go behind your back."

"Ah of course, your intentions were pure." The words dripped venom, grabbing your robe you quickly dress before standing and walking to the door, "Thank you for the wonderful talk Bruce, really your people skills are top notch." Your hands gesture to the door. He leaves without a word.

The rest of the day is as usual, Bruce avoids you like the plague, the rest of the family acted as if you weren't there. Which made leaving all too easy.

Your lawyers had the divorce papers ready and hour after you called them, signing them felt like the first act of self love you'd done in years. Slipping them into Bruce's study you took the time to analyze the room you never entered.

It matched Bruce that's for sure, pictures of every single person in the family. All except for you.

Walking out the door, wrapped in your ankle length black faux fur coat, the garment whipped in the wind, the designer sunglasses on your face hid your eyes from the world, hair in a slicked back bun, your heels echoed against the pavement, a sleek black car was waiting for you, you look back at the house that had caused you so much misery then got in the back of the car, never looking back.

Life goes on for about a week, your absence goes unnoticed, that is before Rachel is trying and failing to blackmail Bruce out of a billion dollars, she'd collected evidence he was cheating on you with her and presented it to Bruce with a grin, it was only as he went through the pictures of himself and Rachel, did he notice the yellow envelope with his name written on the front.

Hey puts the heartbreaking matter of Rachel's betrayal on the back burner, Bruce opened the envelope and felt his heart completely stop at the word divorce written in bold lettering across the top, your signature was already there, waiting for his to join it.

Ignoring Rachel completely now he turns in his chair, turning the paper over and over as if it would magically change. But it remained the same. Alfred knocking on the door of his study broke him from his trance. "Master Wayne, miss Rachel." He says the latter's name with no warmth. "Escort Rachel to her car Alfred."

"Bruce have you heard a word I've said? I'm serious I'll go to Gotham daily right now if you don't -"

"Now Alfred."

That was all it took for the screaming woman to be firmly escorted off the premises. Bruce all but ran to your room, he didn't bother knocking, and despite knowing in his heart you were already gone, he couldn't help but check anyway.

Your room was empty and cold, he couldn't believe the date he'd read on the divorce papers, it was dated a week ago, meaning you'd been gone for a week and he hadn't noticed. No one had.

That is until Bruce remembers there's someone in the house nothing gets by.

"How long have you known she was gone Alfred?" He asks leaning on his knuckles the divorce papers stared back at him taunting him. "Since the moment she left." The older man replied simply his hands behind his back. "Why didn't you tell me immediately?" Bruce felt himself tense, "Because you've hurt that woman enough Bruce. She deserves at least this." He gestures to the daunting divorce paperwork before turning to leave Bruce with his thoughts.

The news of Rachel's betrayal shook the manor each member feeling violated by their trust being broken. But it was nothing compared to their reaction once they finally realized you were gone.

"That was rough." Jason says after watching Rachel being dragged out of the manor, he blew air out of his cheeks arms crossed over his chest, he looked towards the hallway that lead to your room, you had to have heard that he thought to himself.

Dick sighs through his nose, "Someone should check on (y/n), Rachel was screaming so loud she definitely heard that." No one volunteers so Dick rolls his eyes and heads towards your room.

He lifts his hands to knock but noticed the door was open, pushing it further he's met with a baren room, his brow furrowed in confusion before he makes his way to Bruce's study. "Hey B, have you seen (y/n)? Her room is like weirdly empty."

Dick found his Father where Alfred left him, leaning over the divorce papers silently a storm in his eyes.

As he steps closer and reads the paperwork Bruce was staring so intently at, his heart stopped.

"Holy shit- are those real?"

"Yes." Bruce finally spoke his voice horse. There was a moment of silence before Dick left the room practically running down the stairs to alert the others.

"(Y/n) left Bruce." He said still processing the information, "No fuckin' way." Jason says pushing himself off the counter he leaned on. "Her room is empty and he has the papers, she's gone."

Each member of the family had different reactions to this information.

Dick tries calling you only to be met with a disconnected number, his heart hammering in his chest, he wasn't as close to you as when he was younger sure, but you were a constant in his life, always had been, a pillar of support, and suddenly you weren't. It felt like the floor had gotten pulled out from under him.

Jason curses under his breath, his mind working a mile a minute, he had barely spoken to you since his Resurrection, something he deeply regretted as the information of your leaving sinks in like a brick thrown into a river.

Tim, ever calculating is trying to figure out where you went, you were a figurehead in his life, someone that was literally never not there, sure he wasn't close to you in the slightest but that doesn't mean he wants anything to happen to you, someone as quiet and soft as you on your own in Gotham? It didn't sit well with him. Not one bit.

Damian didn't know what he was feeling at the news, he supposed he should feel nothing, after all you were nothing to him, but there was this nagging feeling in his chest that he couldn't quite place. And he hated it. How dare you leave and upset his fragile ecosystem?

Meanwhile in the Bahamas, far from Gotham and the neglectful family you'd left behind, you sat lounging on a private beach, a knitted hammock cradles your body, a designer baby pink bikini covers you, a matching sunhat protects your face from the hot sun, you can't wipe the smile from your face, humming a tune from your childhood you barely flinch when someone takes the seat besides your hammock.

"Do I want to know how you found me?" You ask, eyes still closed as you bask in the warmth. You knew only one person had the sources to find you on your own island, and despite how much you resent the man, even his presence can't ruin your shine in this moment.

"You're my wife (Y/n), I'll always know where you are." Bruce speaks softly as if trying not to startle you. "Former wife." You correct cracking an eye open, a small smirk curling on your lips.

"Not until I sign those papers- which I never will."

"huh, I thought you'd be thrilled." You muse to yourself before folding your tanning mirror and setting it aside, you take off your Louis Vuitton sunglasses, blinking your pretty (e/c) eyes up at him, "Figured you and your little Twinkie would have tied the knot by now." You laugh softly, the sound, unfamiliar to Bruce, sent warm shivers down his spine, it causes his lips to quirk up in a small grin.

"She's gone."

"Well, I don't care."

There's a beat of silence before he's offering you his hand. "Will you walk with me? I know I don't deserve it."

You sigh before getting up, ignoring his hand, you nod your head reluctantly, "Well? Hurry up I've got dinner at six."

His smile remains as he begins leading you along the shoreline. It's relatively quiet between you two as you walk side by side, a peace between you both you hadn't ever felt. "The manor isn't the same without you." He breaks the silence, "I sincerely doubt that." You laugh at the very notion. "It's true- it's colder, quieter, I want you to come home."

"That was never my home, you made that abundantly clear."

He winces as if your words cut him, "I know I haven't been a good man to you, I know I've failed you time and time again but I..I looked at those divorce papers and my heart stopped." He admits running a hand through his hair.

"You can't leave me."

"I can't?." You scoff, your movement halting, "I'm a grown woman- I'm taking responsibility for my own happiness, you can't stop me."

"I wasn't asking." He says softly, his hands in his pockets, he had this fond look on his face, like he was staring at you for the first time, in a whole new light. "You can't make me." You say, brows furrowed, "You belong back home, you're supposed to be with me, till death do us part, remember?" He steps forward making you step back, your eyes wide, hands shaking, you back into a wide chest, spinning to face Dick, who's grinning at you, he's in his Nightwing costume, he gives you a small wave of his hand, you scrunch your face in confusion, "What the hell-" your thought is cut off by a small pinch in your neck, the needle in Bruce's hand is empty in seconds, he's cradling your stumbling form, holding you tightly, "Don't worry - I'll fix this."

Your sleeping body is gently carried to the batplane, Bruce holding you close to his chest as Dick pilots the plane, he whispers promises into your hair, rocking you against him as he swears on his life to make things right, weather you liked it or not.

#yananswers #anon submission #yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x y/n #yandere dc imagine #yandere dc x reader #yandere batfam x reader #yandere batfamily x reader #yandere batfamily #yandere bruce wayne x reader #yandere jason todd x reader #yandere dick grayson x reader #yandere tim drake x reader #yandere damian wayne x reader

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gloomwitchwrites · 3 months ago

Note

secret baby trope with tf141? 😌😌

Anon! OH. MY. GOOOOOD. I love this. I love this. I love this. Secret baby? Yes, please. I adore this trope. I bow down to you for requesting this. I don't know who you are but I wish that I did. I can absolutely get behind a secret baby trope. I actually read a book recently that was a bit like that and I enjoyed it so so much.

I had an absolute blast putting this one together. Seriously. You totally indulged me here. Thank you!!

For the masterlist and how to submit your own request, click HERE

Task Force 141 x Female Reader

Content & Warnings (per the warnings MDNI): swearing, suggestive themes, stalking, possessive behavior, second chances, pregnancy / unplanned pregnancy, parenthood, reunions, light angst

Word Count: 2.3k

ao3 // taglist // main masterlist // imagines & what if masterlist

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

Kyle relaxes further into the couch. The air around him is slightly smoky.

He brings his vape to his lips and takes a hit. The action is calming, and that’s exactly what he wants. Kyle is rotting, and it feels fucking good.

Between missions, Kyle is always somewhere, but right not there is no reason for him to do anything. He can relax. He can watch reality television, eat himself to sickness, and wank off until his wrist hurts.

It’s bloody fucking brilliant.

Kyle isn’t attached. He has no kids. The only responsibility required of him is the one he has to himself. Which is why he’s splayed out on the couch in nothing but grey sweatpants and his vape. The television is on, and the volume is low. It’s mostly for background noise. Kyle isn’t really paying attention to it.

With a vape in one hand and his phone in the other, Kyle scrolls through his contacts. There are all the usual people there, but there are also a slew of general acquaintances and a long list of people he’s had it off with but never took anything further.

He pauses at one name, and old memories resurface.

They just happen upon him. Kyle doesn’t drag them up from the depths. They linger there, and Kyle remembers all the fun he had with you.

You were just a small fling. A few lengthy but deliciously good fucks that tops most of the sex he’s ever had in his life. There have been times since he last saw you—over a year now—that Kyle has thought about what could have been.

You were sweet. A potential partner. But Kyle didn’t follow through. He would regret it, but things can’t be taken back. There is no turning back the clock to change what has already occurred.

Kyle’s thumb hovers above the screen.

He shouldn’t. He really fucking shouldn’t.

But he does. Because why not?

Switching over apps, Kyle starts scrolling social media. He doesn’t usually give a shit about what’s happening in people’s lives, but he is curious about you. What are you up to? What are you doing? If you’re not attached, maybe he could call you up, rekindle what was once there.

You don’t have him blocked on anything—thank fuck—and Kyle delves into your socials, exploring your life. At first, the small infant in your arms is nothing to him, but then the tiny human keeps reappearing, and Kyle pauses.

Kyle scrolls a bit more. And stops.

Just three—no—four months ago, there are a slew of friends and family congratulating you on the birth of your son.

Your…son.

Kyle thinks back. Does the math in his head.

“Fuck,” he mutters, sitting up, gaze glued on the screen.

He scrolls back, studying every photo where your son is featured. Kyle’s heart slams in his chest. The features Kyle sees are features he sees every time he looks in the mirror.

“Fucking hell,” groans Kyle, the phone nearly slipping from his hands as he slumps back against the couch.

Why didn’t you say anything? Why didn’t you contact him?

The very thought of you not reaching out doesn’t sit well with him. It sits heavy in his stomach.

“Fuck,” says Kyle, switching over to his contacts.

He finds Simon’s number and taps the call button.

It rings on the other end, and Kyle doesn’t think that he’ll answer. But he does.

“Kyle,” comes Simon’s gruff voice.

Kyle sighs. “I need you to track someone down for me.”

John Price

John doesn’t like cutting off contact with people.

He likes to keep in touch, even if it’s just an acquaintance. But things happen, like a fucked phone with no way to retrieve contacts, and the only people he’s able to retrieve are those he sees on a regular basis.

Your number is gone. And John has no way to get it back.

Legally that is. He could try and find you in the system. What information he has is minimal, but then again, the two of you only had a one-night stand. He’s prone to it since he’s never in one place. Always moving around.

John would like to settle down one day, but his work is his life, and it just doesn’t seem possible to have a family and be consistent with them when he’s constantly called away.

He chews it over while sitting in his office. It’s late, and there isn’t anyone else here but him. Late nights like this are calming to him—a time to process away from the events of the day. John has your first name, where you might live, and a general idea of what your number is. But he isn’t certain, and it’s hardly enough to go on.

Sighing, deciding he’d rather find you than not, John turns on his computer. It takes a while to get the classified systems he has access to. No one tracks what he does on here, and no one will think twice if they do happen to look. John runs lots of names and faces through this system.

John waits. Ponders. Enters in different spellings and every possible clue to try and seek you out. With every new search, John begins to lose hope. He might be completely fucked. Completely at a loss.

If this doesn’t work, he might not ever see you again. And for some goddamn reason, that bothers him.

He tries one last time, expecting nothing, only for his heart to drop into his stomach,

“There you are,” he murmurs, leaning forward, gaze sweeping over your passport photo.

Grabbing a piece of paper, John jots down your phone number and current address. He also notes your top place of employment. You might not be there anymore, but that isn’t an issue. He has enough.

John shuts off his computer and grabs his coat. He’ll try to reach out first by phone and go from there.

“You have the wrong number, bud.”

The man’s southern drawl irks John. “You sure?”

“Yeah I’m fucking sure. Quit calling.”

John frowns as the line goes dead. The number on file isn’t recent.

“Fuck,” mutters John, running his hand through his hair.

This is getting him nowhere. The only other option is showing up at your home or place of employment, but he can’t do that unless he’s on scheduled leave. That’s months away.

And each month is fucking agony.

When John finally makes it to your front door, nervousness sets in. This is completely fucking weird. Who the fuck shows up at someone’s door months after a one-night stand? Him apparently.

But fuck it. He’s here.

Either he does this and things go great, or things go to shit and he doesn’t need to worry about it anymore.

John takes a deep breath, and then pounds on the door. He takes a step back, hands in his pockets as he waits. There is a stretch of silence, and then he hears it—the turn of a deadbolt.

The door swings open, and there you are, just as beautiful from when he first saw you. At first, your brow scrunches in confusion, and then your eyes widen.

“John,” you breathe.

He smiles, and then his gaze drops as your hand moves away from the doorknob to land on your stomach. Your belly is round. Protruding. You’re—oh shit.

“Is that—”

“Yours?”

Fuck.

John glances up into your eyes and swallows.

You shift on your feet, one hand resting against the doorframe.

“It is,” you confirm.

Simon "Ghost" Riley

Simon shouldn’t. Really—it’s fucked up. Wrong.

But he does it anyway because there is no fucking way he’s letting you go even if he has to watch from afar.

He’s done a lot of things he isn’t proud of, and losing you is near the top of the list. Not that he blames you for breaking it off. You had every right. Simon is always gone. Always away. And he rarely thought of you when he came home.

Communication can be a difficult thing for him. He knows this, and yet he couldn’t make an effort to do better with you. It wounds him. It does. Like a sharp blade to the gut.

But that is secondary now. Simon has dismissed it.

Sure, you’re not truly his now, but you’ll come back to him. He’ll make sure of it.

In the dark, Simon watches. Before him is a slew of screens and all of them show different angles of your home. Simon also has your phone tapped, and in another window, he can lurk through your messages and emails.

It’s where he first learned you were pregnant.

You know, and haven’t told him. Haven’t reached out in the slightest. Simon has to see all the results and tests come back via your email. He has to log into your medical portal to access specific things which is goddamn frustrating but he needs to know.

You are fucking pregnant. With his child.

It’s growing in your belly.

Even through the camera feed, Simon can see the swell of your stomach. He wants to be there, to stand beside you, and rest his hand against it. He wants to feel his son kick. Because you are carrying his son in your belly. Simon saw the results.

It’s fucking painful watching you like this.

He’s stayed away for a bit. Not engaging.

But you’ve broken it off before, and came back eventually.

Simon just needs an in again. All he has to do is figure it out, and then he can put away these fucking screens and surveillance. He can be by your side and be there when you give birth.

Leaning back in his chair, Simon observes every screen, his palm rubbing against his thigh as he considered his options.

He has to play this right.

He has to.

John "Soap" MacTavish

“Do you think you’ll ever find your woman again?”

Johnny grins behind his pint glass. “If she’s here,” he replies.

The beer is perfectly cold and goes down easily. It’s refreshing since it’s so bloody hot outside.

Johnny didn’t think he’d ever come back to the little seaside town. He came between missions—a way to relax and get away for a bit. With only a few hundred residents, it seemed like the perfect place. What he didn’t expect was to meet a woman that upended his fatigue and made him glow a little brighter.

He learned your name while exploring a local pub. You were a pretty thing. Caught Johnny’s eye immediately. With several beers fueling him, Johnny struck up a conversation, and you were receptive to his charm—melting like butter over fresh toast.

That evening, the two of you jumped from pub to pub, having a bloody good time. It was fucking magical. Afterward, the two of you ventured back to Johnny’s hotel room. But the two of you didn’t have sex. It wasn’t until the next morning that Johnny actually fucked you.

Johnny had presented himself, you slid right into his arms. The hotel bed was well-used. There wasn’t a moment after that Johnny didn’t have his dick inside you. He kept you full and screaming his name for an entire fucking week.

But when that week was up, the two of you parted ways. You gave Johnny your number, and for a couple months, you were consistent in your texts and phone calls. Then it all changed, and you began to contact him less frequently.

Eventually, you didn’t talk to Johnny at all.

He was hurt at first. He tried to reach out. But Johnny didn’t hear a thing—and he left you to it. Maybe someone else arrived into your life. Johnny can respect that even if he doesn’t exactly like it.

It sucked then. And it still pains him a bit now. Johnny liked you when you left—and if he’s being entirely honest with himself—he still fucking likes you.

Maybe you’ll be here. Maybe you won’t.

Kyle is with him this time. A guy’s trip. Price isn’t one for vacations, and Simon has his own shit going on.

“We could try that pub again,” suggests Kyle. “See if she’s there.”

Johnny shrugs. “Maybe.”

“Did she live here?” asks Kyle.

Johnny nods. “Aye. Sure did.”

Kyle bobs his head. “We’ll find her.”

The two of them sit outside a small pub. The air is laced with salt from the ocean, and the sun is out, shining bright. It’s hot, but it’s a beautiful fucking day.

Johnny hums in agreement, bringing his pint glass back to his lips. For a moment, Johnny glances away from Kyle, looking out across the road where people walk along the pavement. He frowns.

Is that?

No. Can’t be.

His focus becomes a tunnel, and all he can see is the woman across the road. It’s you. There is no doubt. He knows that body, that hair and smile. You haven’t changed all that much. Not really.

There is another woman with you—a friend that Johnny met briefly before you and him went off on your own.

But that isn’t what has Johnny’s attention.

You’ve turned, and Johnny can see a swell to your stomach. Your hand cradles it affectionately.

“What is it?” asks Kyle, but his voice is distant.

“That’s her,” murmurs Johnny, his pint glass lowering back to the table.

You don’t see him. You’re chatting with your friend, features animated. The curve in your stomach is fairly large, and a deep twisting in his stomach arises, moving toward his throat.

“Oh fuck,” says Johnny as Kyle shifts to look in the direction Johnny is staring.

“Is that?”

“It fucking is.”

“She’s fucking pregnant.”

Johnny swallows. “Aye.”

He doesn’t want to admit it, but it’s likely the fucking truth. The baby is probably his. No wonder you stopped talking to him. Maybe you thought it best to cut off contact when you found out.

But that doesn’t sit right with him either. If you had told him, Johnny could have been there for you sooner—not finding out like this.

You throw your head back and laugh, playfully hitting your friend’s arm as she says something funny. When you wipe at your face, clearing tears, your gaze shifts, and all the humor leaves your face.

You’re staring right at Johnny.

And he’s staring back.

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