#if they have time to hear you then they might fight back and if you kill someone in a fight it wouldnt feel /as/ sleazy as sneakin up behin

[littlechivalry]

Robin had gotten a lot of things from becoming platonic soulmates with Steve Harrington. Rides to school, hair care tips, unrelenting trauma, slightly bitchy dating advice that to her eternal chagrin actually worked, and entree into a weird little family that she couldn't imagine living without.

But also... Robin had to listen to sex talk.

It wasn't bad at first, she had actually gleaned a lot of advice from his stories that stood her in good stead with a few select girls. But then on the Family Video bathroom floor Steve had asked if Robin would be okay with him talking about sex with guys.

She said yes one time and now it was her life.

Steve had spent most of their shift moving tapes around the store, shuffling them into different genres based on what he thought they might be about. It was his standard 'I have something to talk about but I don't know if I can say it' behavior.

"Look," she said flatly. "I'm stopping this now. You have five minutes to sum up the problem and then I don't want to hear it anymore."

Steve put the last tape, a copy of St Elmo's Fire, into the Action-Disaster section before coming back to the counter, sharing his head. "I appreciate the thought Robbie but I don't think you're ready for this."

Robin gasped, ready to take full and dramatic umbrage when a Tasmanian Devil made of leather jacket and cheap sterling silver jewelry banged into the store.

"Babe, did you ask her," Eddie asked, grinning madly.

"Not yet," Steve whined and before Robin could gather her thought she felt two sets of eyes settle on her, one steady and concerned and the other sparkling with glee.

Robin stepped back from the counter and held her hands out in front of her. "I don't know what's going on here but no, I will not carry a baby for you two. Get Steve knocked up the old fashioned way if you want kids."

Steve brightened for a moment before pouting, "You wouldn't want to bring a little Buckley-Harrington-Munson into the world? Wow, Robs."

Eddie lunged forward, pushing past Steve to plant his hands on the counter. "We'll come back to that Buckley, but we have a different issue. We need you to be a completely impartial party."

"We really don't," Steve said. "This is not a big deal."

"I disagree," Eddie said. "I happen to think this is a very big deal."

"Well, and--," Steve said. "Isn't 'big' the problem?"

"It's not a problem for me," Eddie said, leering at Steve.

Robin stepped forward and waved her hands between the two guys, interrupting their creepy eye contact. "Okay, fine, tell me what's going on but make it snappy."

Steve hummed but didn't say anything. Eddie grinned and looked from Robin to his boyfriend and back again. He opened his mouth but before he could say anything Steve's hand was pressed half over his face.

"Eddie wants me to try sitting on his face but I'm afraid I'll, like, suffocate him to death." Steve grimaced and pulled his hand away from Eddie before rubbing it roughly on his jeans. "Gross, Eds."

Robin shook her head while they started squabbling. Steve was her best friend and Eddie was a close second. Part of being a best friend was apparently arbitrating their weird sex arguments.

The squabbling had evolved into a slap fight so Robin took the opportunity to examine them. They were the same height but Steve probably had a few pounds on Eddie. Then again Robin knew Eddie was stronger than he looked. Given the way Eddie hadn't stooped smiling since he walked in he definitely didn't seem intimidated by the idea.

Okay.

"Okay," Robin said sharply. "Knock it off. I decided."

The two boys stopped, Steve's arm locked around Eddie's neck while it looked like Eddie was trying to either give Steve a wedgie or just straight up shove his arm down Steve's acid-washed jeans.

It took a few moments for them to separate and put themselves back to rights before they were finally standing in front of her waiting for a verdict.

Robin looked from Steve to Eddie, then back again. She nodded towards Eddie before winking at her best friend. "If he dies, he dies."

"Thank you, Buckley," Eddie crowed, before turning on his heel and heading for the door.

"Where are you going," Steve called out.

Eddie turned back. "I gotta do some stretches, baby," Eddie said, rolling his neck. "I have plans." Eddie blew Steve a kiss before rubbing his hands together and walking out the door.

Robin looked at Steve, his hand still clenched in front of him where he had 'caught' the kiss, a bright red flush on his cheeks.

"I'm gonna marry that man," Steve murmured.

[solvicrafts]

This is a hard truth that a lot of people don't want to hear, that there needs to be a balance between holding men accountable for their behavior, pointing out injustices that they benefit from, and at the same time encouraging them to learn and grow.

And this goes for any group of people, really, but especially so for young men right now.

I was saying this shit back before the 2016 election and really pissed off a lot of people for daring to argue that we should encourage our allies instead of shaming and alienating them.

"Yes, absolutely, people should support our civil rights because it's the right thing to do, but a lot of people genuinely do not know how much of the world is structured to prop them up at the cost of bringing others down."

I'm going to say something possibly really, really controversial here, especially in the wake of THIS election:

Most people are capable of being empathetic, understanding, and logical, but if you are going to engage with them then you have to have the maturity to commit to reaching them.

At one of the places I worked previously, there was this security guard who worked a few nights at the end of the week who was honestly one of my best friends there. He was a well-educated, very devout Christian man around my father's age, and he was black. For context, I am a young Irish-American liberal Hellenic Polytheist.

We actually got along far better with each other than I did with all of the hippie woo neopagan people I knew there, and he with the Christians there. And that's because we were not only both well educated within our belief systems, we were also really good at meeting in the middle and extending social grace and understanding to each other. We found that our core principles were perfectly aligned, we just didn't always arrive to our conclusions in the same exact ways.

When the pandemic hit in 2020, he was reluctant to get vaccinated, and when we talked about it I was the one person who got through to him. And he told me so. He told me outright, after he got vaccinated, that it was my voice that changed his mind.

I did not do that by shaming him over all of the people he might kill if he caught COVID and spread it. I did not do that by attacking his intellect or scientific literacy. I did not do that by threatening his financial security and pointing out that companies are letting people go for not getting vaccinated.

I did it by acknowledging his beliefs and concerns (especially as an older black man, given this country's history), and agreeing that he absolutely has valid reasons to feel the way he does, but by letting him know that my position on this subject was one of caring about his well-being above all else and letting him know when I got vaccinated and where, and how the process went for me.

Look, shaming CAN be effective in some limited scenarios, and I've done that, too. I've shamed quite a few people on public transit for refusing to let disabled elderly people sit. I am very much guilty of telling a woman that her imaginary friend does not need a seat of their own so that a guy who fell over getting on the bus could actually sit the fuck down.

But when it comes to bigger picture social issues, it's so much better to try to reach people and establish dialogue FIRST. And I know that that is asking a lot. For many of us, it goes against our very instincts.

At the local farmer's market last week, I had a man come up to me in a MAGA hat and I was absolutely braced for a fight. Instead, he eagerly showed me pictures on his phone of the garden he was cultivating. He was almost GIDDY about his plants, about the wildflowers and the pollinators and the fruit and the trees. That man was reachable. He was not there to attack me for being a queer woman. He was there to bond over how cool plants are and had no idea what he was really signing up for.

It's so much easier to condemn people broadly as monsters, and I know it feels much more satisfying and rewarding in the moment. I've done it, too. I was downright obnoxious about it when I was younger. But this is not the kind of behavior that leads to long-term societal growth.

The more we cut off and alienate people, the easier it is for them to fall prey to indoctrination. Exposure and social engagement is our biggest weapon against bigotry and THAT is a major reason as to why the Republican party wants to destroy public education.

I have had an immense uphill battle with some of my closest male friends in trying to keep them from falling down the alt-right pipeline. It's been a nearly two decade endeavor in a few cases, but I have seen those men in my life gradually improve and become well-rounded, empathetic, and educated men.

I guess what I'm saying here is, if you have a man (or ANYONE for that matter!) in your life who is showing early warning signs and/or you believe is susceptible to the MAGA movement, please think about what I've said. It's so much harder to approach them from a place of understanding than of anger and I get that, but at the end of the day, one of those is going to be much more effective at changing their viewpoint.

Lastly, if you find yourself in a situation where you are trying to engage with someone who thinks very differently than you do, here are a few tips and some examples:

1. Acknowledge their viewpoint.

"I understand where you're coming from"

"I think I see why you think/feel this way"

Or even just asking, "I don't really understand, can you explain how you arrived to this conclusion/viewpoint/opinion, etc.?"

2. Offer them an olive branch.

"I see what you're saying, and actually, I think you will find that our opinions aren't too different from each other's."

"You have a point about this, and if I could just build off of that, here is where I am coming from."

3. Address their concerns

"Yeah, you're right, our taxes are already way too high, but if we didn't have to raise them at all and could, instead, take a hard look at how they are already being spent?"

"Wolf reintroduction absolutely could be a problem for farmers if it's handled poorly, and you're right that city people don't understand that as intimately as you do, but what if I told you there's a way we could work this out to your benefit, too?"

4. Thank them for listening! (even if they didn't magically change their opinion right away, you never know)

"I'm glad we had this talk, thank you for hearing what I had to say."

5. Reassure them that you listened, too! (even if YOU didn't change your mind)

"I can't say you've changed my mind, but you've given me something to think about."

I couldn't have said it better myself.

[jobean12-blog]

Adventures in Babysitting

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x female reader

Word Count: 2.5K

Summary: You and Bucky are friends and it's clear you both want more but you fight it, scared of your feelings and ruining what you have together. But spending some quality time together can't be such a bad idea...right?

Author's Note: I just needed some fluffiness. So here we are. The little girl in this (niece) is probably around 6ish-7. Thank you all so much for reading! Much love always! ❤️❤️❤️Divider by the lovely @firefly-graphics thanks Daisy! 🥰

Warnigns: soft and sweet fluff, some flirting, tension, teasing, lots of cute.

You order your second drink from the barista and weave through the small line to get back to your table. Most of the staff here know you by name and don’t mind that you spend a few hours of your weekend morning enjoying a drink (or three) and reading.

Settling back into the chair you grab your book and try to find where you left off. The door to the shop opens and cool breeze blows in. Taking your warm cup between your fingers you lift it to your lips, hoping the heat will seep into your bones, when you hear your name.

You blink up to see Bucky standing near the counter and a different kind of warmth rushes through your body. His hair is messy, and he’s dressed in a tee shirt and sweats, as if he’s just been out for a run. Even a little sweaty, he looks better than should be allowed.

He pulls out his wallet to pay and your eyes drop automatically to the way the damp tee shirt clings to his shoulders and dips in at his waist, down to where his hip bones…

The sound of the chair scraping along the floor makes you snap your head up to meet his eyes, blue and clearly amused to have caught you ogling him.

He sits across from you, stretching his arms out on the table, and takes his time doing his own, totally blatant, inspection.

You raise a brow.

“Little chilly for a run, isn’t it?” you say.

He shrugs and takes another sip of his drink.

“Let me guess though, as usual, you’re not cold at all.”

He aims a smile at you, ignoring your teasing remark.

“So,” you start, trying again, “what are you doing here?”

His eyes sparkle and he leans forward to push the book in your hands upward, positioning it so he can see the front cover.

“Lookin’ for you doll,” he says simply before reading the title.

“Enjoying your romance?” he asks after, his smile growing wider.

It’s your turn to shrug and you place your bookmark inside the book and close it.

Under the table he stretches his long legs out in front of him and brackets each of his feet against yours, the sides of your legs touching.

“Well?” he asks again.

“I just started it. The tension is building…you know a slow burn, but I think it has potential.”

He stares at you, relaying so much in his expression: just like us?

“Want to get some dinner later?”

“Actually, I have plans,” you tell him.

His expression falls just the tiniest amount.

“Plans?”

“My brother and Marie have a wedding to go to and I promised I’d watch Samantha.”

“Babysitting!” he states. “Now that sounds fun.”

You give him a look and start to gather your things.

“I need to do a few errands before I head over.”

You stand and hook your bag over your shoulder before pushing the chair in. He stands and reaches forward to untwist the strap.

“Ok.”

You stand there, the obvious question (and tension) hanging between you.

“Do you want to babysit with me?” you ask. “Even though I’m sure you’ll find it totally boring.”

“I’ve hung out with Sam’s kids a lot. They’re fun.”

Your eyes widen slightly, and you watch the smooth line of his throat as he swallows.

“Soooo…you want to come?”

“Why not?”

“You might be bored out of your mind.”

His smile melts your insides.

“Maybe doll, but wouldn’t it be more fun if we’re bored together?”

“Are you sure?” you ask. “There will probably be tea parties, and dolls, and a makeover.”

He follows as you head toward the door and holds it open.

“Thanks,” you say.

He smiles. “I’m sure. It’s nothin’ I can’t handle.”

“Ok, great!”

“So, what time?” he asks.

“Five. And you have to bring pizza and let her do your hair if she asks.”

“You know…and I can’t believe I’m saying this, you’re a great babysitter.”

You wiggle your toes, feet propped up on the coffee table and still drying from the bright pink nail polish Samantha painted on.

Bucky grins at you from across the way where he’s sitting with Sam at a small table, in an even smaller chair, in the middle of what appears to be a very fancy tea party.

His usually soft, floppy hair is spiky now, tied up by bright hair ties in about ten tiny, crazy ponytails.

He leans toward Sam conspiratorially and shoves his thumb in your direction. “I told you she thinks I’m great.”

Sam slides some decorative barrettes into his mess of hair. “And you said cute.”

“You mean you said you’re cute,” you explain, eyeing Bucky. “I never said such a thing.”

“I never said you said it…” Bucky counters and politely thanks Sam when she gives him more tea. “But I know you’re thinking it. Especially right now.”

He throws you a little wink.

Sam smiles at Bucky then at you.

“I think he looks cute!” she says sweetly.

You stand and walk over to them, kissing the top of Sam’s head and without thinking, brushing a finger over a piece of Bucky’s hair that’s come loose.

“Well, you definitely get points for being a good sport.”

You expect him to shoot back with some snarky comment about “points” meaning a blow job or something, but instead he just says, “I’m havin’ fun doll.”

“Do you want more tea?” Sam asks you.

“No thanks baby. It’s getting late and I don’t want to drink anymore. It might keep us up.”

“Well,” she starts with some sass, “I’m not tired.”

She turns back to her dolls and then adds, “and I want to keep playing with Bucky. Don’t you think he’s nice?”

Bucky snickers and you lightly smack the back of his head but before you can answer Sam she continues with another addition to Bucky’s lovely attributes.

“And cute?”                                     

You kneel down beside her, smoothing your hands over her cheeks.

“He is nice,” you say.

“And?”

Her sweet voice once again has some sass.

“And cute,” you add with a roll of your eyes.

Bucky’s eyes light up in triumph and you can’t stop your smile.

“It’s late. Let’s get ready for bed.”

Her lip sticks out and her eyes grow wide.

“But I’m sure Bucky can come back and play again soon. And I’ll bet we can get him to read you a story before bed.”

That seems to placate her for the moment, and she says, “we’re going to watch Moana. He pinky promised.”

You turn to Bucky. “You pinky promised?”

He gives you a heart stopping smile.

“Guess we’re watching some Moana before bed,” you concede.

Sam agrees to pajamas and teeth brushing before the movie. The three of you settle onto the couch, Sam in Bucky’s lap and you, at her insistence, next to them. Right next to them. You’re all three crammed into one corner and she allows him to take out the hair ties and barrettes with little fuss if he promises to wear his Barbie necklace and never take it off. Ever.

Bucky agrees steadfastly and Sam beams up at him, resting her head on his chest and reaching for his hand.

He’s solid and warm at your side, and it takes a few minutes to get her settled, but soon she’s snuggled up and rather pleased with herself.

Her hand looks positively tiny in his and you keep blinking down to it, marveling at how much bigger he is than her and how absolutely soft and gentle he’s being.

You try desperately to pay attention to the movie. You love Moana. But it’s hard to follow along amid the internal crisis you’re having over his holding her hand and snuggling with her. It’s not sexy. Not sexy at all.

Some time later, Bucky’s voice breaks into your thoughts: “I think she’s out doll.”

You look over to meet his eyes, and in the low light flickering from the TV he’s all sharp jawline and lush lips. The ends of his dark lashes glow against the screen.

“Is she asleep?” he asks you.

You blink out of your stupor before you understand what he’s asking and lean forward to check. Sure enough, her eyes are closed, her breaths soft and even.

“Yep, out like a light. Nice work.”

“I do make a pretty good bed,” he smirks. “But I’m sure the two slices of pizza and cookies did most of the work.”

“No really, “you whisper. “This whole night…you’re amazing. You waltz in here with dinner and cookies and your dreamboat smile, all sweet and charming. You made this whole thing easy. Well done Barnes.”

“You think I’m charming?” he says, and grins.

The light from the TV accents the way his face softens then he smiles, and you have to look away.

“Is that all you took out of that whole thing” you ask.

“I also got sweet, dreamboat…easy.”

You laugh, rubbing a hand over your face. “Of course you did.”

Bucky chuckles softly and rearranges Sam on his lap.

“But really, this was fun. “Sam is a real cutie, and you know I love hangin’ out with you.”

You swallow and try to make sense of what you’re feeling, wanting to explain it to him.

A beat of silence passes between you, and he looks over at the TV. You know you’ve been quiet too long when he clears his throat and shifts next to you.

The air between you is crackling with charge and you’re finding it difficult to deal.

He leans in and tilts his head to look at you. You shift forward and he’s so close, close enough that you can feel each breath and count the tiny patches of gray hairs that line his cheek. His eyes drop to your mouth and back up and he’s asking if this is okay, giving you time to close the distance or pull away.

You want to kiss him.

It takes the smallest effort on your part before you feel him, the barest brush of his lips, the slight catch in his breath against your own. He smells like the six chocolate chip cookies he ate after dinner, and your mouth nearly waters, imagining how good he’ll taste.

Without thinking you close your eyes and part your lips and…

Sam makes a small sound in her sleep and says your name.

You and Bucky exhale like you’ve been holding your breath, before he sits back, pushing a hand through his hair.

“Am I an awful person that I would have given her a thousand bucks to sleep for ten more minutes?” he asks.

Your heart is pounding in your chest, and you laugh. “Only ten?”

He stares at you, watching you settle back against the couch. After a few minutes you feel his finger brush absently along your wrist.

You wonder if his fingers itch like yours whenever he’s around, or if he feels the same tug-of-war inside his chest.

Unable to control the nerves firing rapidly inside your brain you make your hand move, keeping your eyes straight ahead and focused on the TV while turning your palm over and twisting your fingers with his.

He tightens his grip.

Sam is softly breathing with her head resting against your shoulder and after only a few moments of hesitation, you feel Bucky do the same.

The weight of him next to you, so strong and warm, feels comfortable and safe, and soon your eyelids droop. You sink farther into the couch and Bucky, falling asleep to the sounds of The Rock singing, “you’re welcome.”

It can’t be too long after when the front door opens. You vaguely hear footsteps and blink several times before you can make out your brother standing in front of you, holding his phone in his outstretched arm.

“What are you…are you taking a picture?” you ask, voice groggy.

“Do you have any idea how cute you two are?” he asks, looking at this phone before turning the screen toward you.

“That’s super-creeptastic bro.”

You feel Bucky stir next to you and he sits up with a start.

“Relax Barnes,” you brother says. “I’m not gonna beat you up for catching you with the babysitter.”

You realize that you and Bucky are still holding hands, and you pull yours away, ignoring the way you can still feel his palm against your own.

“Really creepy,” you say, gently handing over Sam to your brother.

“How was she?” he asks, smoothing her hair.

“An angel, like always. But she might be marrying Bucky. So, there’s that.”

Your brother laughs. “She could do a lot worse,” he says, then motions that he’s going to put her to bed.

You say goodbye and Bucky walks you out to your car. You stand across from each other, pretending that you didn’t just barely kiss and that you weren’t holding hands. Regardless, things feel calm and safe.

It’s dark and you fumble for the door handle, opening the car to set your bag down inside. When you turn, Bucky takes your hand, looking down at the way it fits in his.

“I had a lot of fun doll. Thanks for letting me hang.”

“Are you kidding? This was the best. Thanks for coming.”

It looks like he’s about to ask you something but then thinks better of it and instead leans in to place a kiss to the corner of your mouth.

“Text me when you get home, yeah?”

“Sure,” you answer.

On impulse, you cup his face and stretch to place the lightest kiss on his warm lips.

Stunned, he just stands there, watching as you step back and fight a smile.

His eyebrows slowly rise.

“Doll, you just kissed me.”

“Only a tiny kiss.” You smile up at him and notice the way his eyes flicker to your lips.

He doesn’t move away and instead takes a small step forward, pushing your back against your car door.

Your hand comes up from your side, moving along his chest and around to grab the back of his neck.

“Doll?”

You pull, stretching at the same time and bringing your mouth just a breath away from his.

“Are you…?”

“Just kiss me?” you whisper.

Your fingers tangle in the hair at the back of his neck and you trail kisses along his jaw, soft and hesitant.

His illusion of restraint shatters and he takes your face in both hands and with a groan, presses his lips against yours. He tilts your head, feeling the clench of your hands in his hair, and steps closer, sliding his hands down your back.

He tugs you as close as possible, lining all your softness up with the hard planes of his body.

When he pulls back he’s breathing heavily and he cradles your face in his hands, softly brushing his thumbs over your cheeks.

“Can I…?” he murmurs against your lips.

“Do you want…?” you whisper at the same time.

He smiles and it’s so sincere, crinkling the corners of his eyes and making you swoon.

“Yeah. Yeah I do doll.”

He kisses you again, his lips lingering before he asks, “my place or yours?”

[lets-try-some-writing]

I got the image of the Jack, Miko and Rafael learning to imitate Distressed/terrified Sparkling cries and using them against the decepticons. It’s a very efficient defense mechanism. Every cybertronian who heard them is freaking out because oh primus how is the squishy thing making that noise and I gotta protect it at all costs. The sheer chaos that would ensue as the ‘protect/rescue the sparkling’ programming kicks in full force.

——

The vehicons are clustered at the other end of the room panicking. They don’t know what to do. The human sparklings are looking right at them and making distress noises. The guilt is killing them.

Knockout going “is the car form less alarming?! If I turn into a car will you stop seeing me as the threat?!”

Breakdown is having a breakdown.

Starscream pinned to the wall on the other side of the room having an internal crisis. He doesn’t like this. Make it stop.

Soundwave makes no noise but you can FEEL the sheer distress radiating off of him.

Megatron is frozen. No thoughts, head empty. He’s not moving at all. He doesn’t know how to handle this.

——

The autobots have mixed feelings about this. They’re glad the kids have a way of defending themselves but please don’t do it near them. They’re stressed out enough as it is.

(This might sound kinda dumb but I thought it was kinda funny. Very tired while writing this)

Wait no this is actually brilliant.

The Decepticons never anticipated their long buried parental nature to be used against them. No one did. But they day the human children turned up on the battlefield looking far too confident, every Bot and Con present had the all encompassing feeling that something was terribly wrong. Their suspicions were quickly confirmed when, before the Decepticons could do much of anything to get the relics they were after, Rafael began to wail.

Normally, human screams meant nothing. But there was a certain pitch that sounded so close to a cry of distress from a sparkling that, to warriors who had not heard a sparkling in millennia, it was enough to send them running to help. In this case, the issue was only compounded as the children scattered like mice and started making the same noises. The Decepticons could hardly focus on the Autobots booking it to the relics as they frantically tried to locate the fictitious sparklings calling for aid.

The Vehicons managed to get to Jack, but he just kept looking up at them defiantly. Every time one of the dozen or so Vehicons on the field tried to grab him, blast him, or otherwise hurt him, Jack would chirp like a sparkling and send all of them scurrying back. It wasn't cute to the Vehicons. Having never seen actual sparklings but still having the coding needed to adore them, they looked at Jack and saw a weird frame-walker. They weren't sure what to do about it except try to haul themselves away while also keeping a vague circle around the human male.

Miko on the other hand made it a point to chase after Megatron and Soundwave, screeching like a sparkling about to be shredded. Neither stopped for her, but Megatron completely lost his train of thought every time that screech rang out. He could have been aiming at Optimus with a perfect head shot and he would be unable to fire as Miko's distressed sounds rang out in his audials. He KNEW she wasn't a sparking. His coding wasn't even that strong. But by Primus, hearing her screech was the same as watching a civilian get run over by a bus, repeatedly. Focus was impossible.

Soundwave wasn't much better. He didn't react outwardly, but the slowing of his steps and the way he tried to sidestep Miko gave away his distress. He avoided her like the plague, trying to refocus but being unable to really get far as Miko screamed like a demon. It was a fight against the Unmaker himself to keep Soundwave from bolting over to collect the sparkling who sounded so very upset.

Rafael, for his part, followed Miko's lead and harassed the other three members of High Command most often found out on the field. Breakdown ran screaming the moment Rafael started chirping at him. This was both out of fear of the frame-walker and to escape the inevitable overreaction of his coding. He may or may not have attempted parkour once or twice to get as far away from the smallest of the humans as possible.

Knockout tried to ignore Rafael when the kid chirped up at him, he really really did. But how does one ignore the Cybertronian equivalent of a soaking wet kitten meowing up at you? Simply put: you don't. Knockout gave in and quickly dropped down to try and soothe the non-existent sparkling every. single. time. Rafael pulled his noise trickery. He never fails to panic and attempt to flash colorful things at Rafael to get him to stop. Every Decepticon has since been endlessly disappointed in him.

Starscream, being terrified of things that really shouldn't be there, took the skies the instant the trio began screeching. Nope. Not today Unicron. He'll get the mission done or get the heck out of dodge to avoid coding coming online. He doesn't need empty nest syndrome on top of a crippling case of "I Love Power." He also doesn't need to deal with the horrific mental image of a squishy somehow managing to sound like a sparkling. Nope. Nope. NOPE.

The Autobots are grateful the kids can protect themselves a bit now. But by Primus, they have known NO peace since the kids figured it all out.

[novaursa]

Ember and Iron

- Summary: This was the first time Harwin caught your heart, and from that moment he held onto it forever.

- Paring: targ!reader/Harwin Strong

- Note: @jollydreamertheorist I've managed to find this, enjoy. ☺️ This can be considered prequel to The Secret Flame.

- Rating: Mature 16+

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @alyssa-dayne @oxymakestheworldgoround

The day begins like any other in King's Landing: the sun dips behind heavy clouds, casting a diffused glow over the Red Keep as you wander through the halls. Your sister Rhaenyra had urged you to join her for the day’s lessons, but your curiosity led you to the training yard instead. Something in the air pulls you toward the commotion there, the clash of metal on metal, shouts of encouragement, and laughter filling the space.

From the high stone balcony, you watch the knights sparring below, noting their technique, their footwork, how they seem almost to dance in the dust. Your gaze falls on a towering figure amidst the chaos, his broad shoulders and confident stance setting him apart. Harwin Strong. Known as “Breakbones,” he’s said to be the strongest man in the Seven Kingdoms. You can see why they call him that as he spars with three other men, holding them at bay as if it were a simple exercise.

“Curious?” a voice cuts through your thoughts. Rhaenyra stands beside you, a slight smirk playing on her lips.

“Curious, yes,” you reply, tilting your head. “He’s different.”

Rhaenyra chuckles, her eyes following your line of sight. “Father says he’s built like a bear, but there’s more to him than strength.” Her gaze softens as she watches Harwin, her tone shifting with a hint of intrigue. “He’s brave, and from what I hear, he’s honorable. Perhaps too honorable for court.”

You nod absently, your attention drawn back to Harwin as he laughs, a warm sound that reaches even where you stand. It’s unrestrained, unaffected by the weight of his station or the stares of the gathered crowd.

Unbeknownst to you, his gaze catches on yours just as he fells his last opponent with a practiced blow. He pauses, lifting his head, and his eyes meet yours—a deep, knowing look that sends a rush through you. Harwin wipes a bead of sweat from his brow, then inclines his head in a nod, subtle but unmistakable.

“He’s seen you,” Rhaenyra whispers, amusement sparking in her tone.

“Has he?” you ask, feigning nonchalance, though your heart races.

“Yes,” she replies, a playful grin curling her lips. “And he doesn’t look away.”

Without thinking, you descend the stairs, propelled by an impulse that you can’t quite explain. Rhaenyra trails behind, silent but curious, until you reach the edge of the training yard. You halt, allowing yourself to observe up close as Harwin hands his sword to a nearby squire. He’s closer now, his presence grounding, solid, and he watches you in return with open curiosity.

“Princess,” he greets, voice steady but warm. A faint smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. “Did you enjoy the spectacle?”

“I might have,” you reply, meeting his gaze directly. “But it was not for spectacle alone that I watched.”

Harwin’s brow raises slightly, a glint of interest in his eyes. “Then what held your interest, if I may ask?”

You hesitate, choosing your words carefully. “You fight… as though you’re not in a yard, as though each swing carries meaning. I wanted to see if the tales matched the man.”

A low chuckle escapes him. “And do they?” He crosses his arms, the gesture casual yet somehow charged.

You allow yourself a small smile. “I think they barely capture him.” The words linger in the air between you, weighty and unspoken.

He’s silent for a beat, regarding you carefully, as though trying to unravel a mystery. “And what of the tales of you, my princess?” His voice dips, lower, softer. “They say you bear a resemblance to the late Lady Alyssa, your grandmother. That her spirit runs through your veins.”

“Perhaps,” you answer, feeling the heat rise to your cheeks. “I do not know if I carry her spirit, but I do believe her blood flows in me.” You tilt your head, meeting his gaze boldly. “Do you believe in tales, Ser Harwin?”

“Not often,” he replies, and his voice has taken on a thoughtful, almost reverent quality. “But I know when I see something extraordinary.”

The weight of his words sinks in, and you feel the air around you thicken, laden with an understanding that goes beyond the spoken word. You find yourself studying him as he stands before you, his broad shoulders casting a shadow that almost seems to shield you from the world.

Rhaenyra interrupts the silence, a mischievous smile gracing her face. “Come, Y/N. We have taken enough of Ser Harwin’s time, and Father will want us at supper soon.”

But Harwin’s gaze lingers on you, a silent promise that this meeting is not an end but a beginning. He inclines his head to you, his expression softened by a hint of admiration. “Until we meet again, Princess.”

With that, you turn, following Rhaenyra up the steps, though your mind stays firmly fixed on the knight behind you, a sense of anticipation simmering within.

As you leave, you hear his voice drift through the yard. “If you ever wish to see more than tales, Princess, I’ll be here.” A challenge wrapped in politeness, a promise hidden in a parting phrase. And you know, without a doubt, that you will take him up on it.

The memory of Harwin’s words lingers in your mind for days, haunting you like a half-formed dream. You go about your duties as expected—sitting through council meetings, practicing the needlework you find so tedious, strolling through the gardens with Rhaenyra—but every thought seems to pull you back to that afternoon in the training yard, to the promise in his eyes.

One late afternoon, as the sky begins to darken, you find yourself slipping from your chambers, following instinct rather than duty. The corridors are quiet; the courtiers are in their rooms or in the Great Hall, and there’s a stillness to the air that feels almost enchanted. You make your way down to the training yard, where only the last faint light of day remains.

There, leaning against the fence, his gaze fixed on the horizon, is Harwin. He doesn’t seem surprised to see you—almost as though he had been waiting, as though he somehow knew you’d come.

“Princess,” he greets you, voice soft, almost reverent.

You give a slight nod, looking at him with an ease you hadn’t felt in days. “Ser Harwin. You offered me the chance to see ‘more than tales,’ didn’t you?”

His lips curve into a faint smile, the corners of his eyes crinkling. “I did.” He straightens, taking a step closer, his gaze warm but cautious. “I didn’t expect you to take me up on it so soon.”

You raise a brow. “Do I seem the type to wait?”

He chuckles, the sound low and pleasing, sending a subtle thrill through you. “No,” he admits, “not you.”

He says it like a compliment, like he’s telling you something rare and precious, and you feel a warmth rise to your cheeks. Gathering your courage, you step even closer, the faint scent of the yard’s dust and sweat mingling with the fading light.

“What is it about me that intrigues you, Ser Harwin?” you ask softly, emboldened by the privacy of the yard, by the way he looks at you—as though you’re the only person in the world.

He doesn’t look away, his gaze unwavering. “It’s the fire in you,” he says, voice low and steady. “You carry yourself like a woman who knows her worth. Not many do, even here in the Red Keep.” He pauses, a soft breath escaping him. “You remind me that there’s still some wonder left in the world.”

A quiet falls between you, thick with words unspoken. Your heart races, but there’s something comforting in his presence, something grounding in the way he watches you, every glance a silent vow.

Boldly, you reach for his hand, your fingers brushing over his calloused ones. He doesn’t pull away; instead, he closes his hand around yours, rough and gentle at once. You find yourself studying the way his thumb traces slow circles over your knuckles, the warmth of his skin sending a thrill up your arm.

“This… shouldn’t happen, should it?” you whisper, though there’s no real fear in your voice, only curiosity.

“No,” he agrees, his voice barely a murmur. “But I find I can’t bring myself to stop.” He looks down at you, his gaze intense, his eyes searching yours. “Do you want me to?”

Your fingers tighten around his. “No,” you answer, more certain than you’ve felt in days. “I don’t want you to stop.”

His gaze softens, and for a heartbeat, it feels as though time itself pauses, holding you both in a shared breath. Harwin reaches up, his fingers grazing your cheek, brushing a stray strand of hair back behind your ear. His touch is careful, almost hesitant, as though he’s memorizing every detail, every moment.

“Y/N…” he breathes, your name like a secret between you.

Without thinking, you close the distance, leaning into his touch. He cups your face gently, drawing you nearer, his thumb brushing over your cheek with a tenderness that makes your heart ache. Slowly, he leans in, his forehead pressing softly against yours.

“I can’t give you much,” he whispers, his breath warm against your skin, his voice heavy with a mixture of regret and longing. “Only this, only now. And I don’t know if that’s enough.”

You close your eyes, letting the feel of him, the scent of him, surround you. “It’s enough for me,” you whisper back, your voice barely audible. “I don’t need promises, Harwin. Just… just this.”

And then his lips find yours, a soft, tentative kiss that grows deeper, warmer, until it feels like the world has faded away, leaving only the two of you, wrapped in the quiet intimacy of the moment. His arms come around you, strong and steady, pulling you close, grounding you. You feel safe here, with him, in a way you never have before.

When you finally break apart, he gazes at you, his expression softened by a hint of wonder. “I never thought I’d find myself here, with you,” he admits, almost as though he’s confessing something he hadn’t meant to share.

You smile, reaching up to brush a hand along his jaw. “Life has a strange way of surprising us,” you reply. “But I think, perhaps, this is one of the best surprises.”

He chuckles, leaning into your touch. “If only it could be more.”

For a moment, you’re silent, the weight of courtly duty and family expectations pressing on you both. But you push those thoughts away, focusing instead on the warmth of his hand in yours, the steady rhythm of his breathing.

“Whatever comes next,” you say softly, “we’ll face it. But for now, let’s hold onto this, just as it is.”

He nods, and his fingers lace through yours, holding tightly as though to anchor you both. There, in the dimming light of the yard, you stand together, knowing that, for this moment, you belong entirely to each other.

[slytherinsmuse]

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾ Frayed | Theodore Nott ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

Pairing: Theodore Nott x Fem! Reader

Warnings: smoking, not proofread, characters are 18+, toxicity, violence

Summary: Anst/Fluff | Theo is trapped in a toxic relationship until a breaking point ignites a bond long overdue.

Word count: 6974

author's note: I wrote this after a dream I had the other night. My dreams have been so wild lately.

Sitting at the Slytherin table in the Great Hall, you tried to focus on your breakfast, though your eyes kept drifting to the scene unfolding across from you. Theodore was there, looking as though he’d rather be anywhere else, with his girlfriend firmly planted on his lap, practically wrapped around him. She was all over him, laughing too loud and tossing her hair as if her every move needed an audience.

You felt the familiar pang of irritation as she cut into yet another conversation Theo had been trying to have with Blaise. She leaned in, whispering something into his ear while casting a territorial glance at the others as if daring anyone to interrupt. Theo’s posture was painfully awkward, his shoulders tensed, his gaze dropping to his plate. He gave a few non-committal nods, visibly uncomfortable but too withdrawn to say anything about it. That spark of easygoing confidence you’d always known him for was nowhere to be seen.

Your stomach twisted. This was the same Theo who used to laugh with you at the silliest things, who’d always save a seat beside you at breakfast and swap notes with you during potions. Now, it was like he’d become a stranger. He barely spoke to you anymore, all because his girlfriend had made it clear she didn’t want you, or any other girl, around him.

Across the table, Pansy caught your eye, a look of pure annoyance mirrored on her face. She rolled her eyes, tilting her head toward Theo in silent solidarity. You returned a tight smile, but your grip on your fork tightened. You hated watching this happen—watching Theo become a ghost of himself, isolated even while surrounded by friends.

Just then, he looked up, his gaze meeting yours. A flicker of something softened his features for a brief moment—a hint of the Theo you knew was still there, just beneath the surface. But before either of you could acknowledge it, his girlfriend’s hand was on his jaw, pulling his attention back to her, and the moment was gone.

Blaise’s expression turned sour as he glared at Theo’s girlfriend, his jaw clenching in visible frustration. She had interrupted their conversation just as he’d been getting to the important part, and from the look on his face, he was done holding back his irritation.

He leaned over to Draco, muttering low enough for only him to hear. "How many times has she done this now? Theo might as well be in Azkaban with the way she’s got him trapped."

Draco gave a dry, humourless chuckle, casting a sidelong glance at Theo, who was looking down at his lap, his girlfriend chattering away like nothing was amiss. "It’s getting ridiculous." Draco replied in a whisper. "She won’t let him breathe. Remember last week’s boys’ night? He couldn’t even stay an hour before she was dragging him off."

Blaise nodded, his lips pressed into a tight line. "She’s poison,. he muttered. "And Theo just… lets her. Doesn’t even fight it."

They exchanged a look filled with shared frustration, helpless to watch their friend slowly shrinking under the weight of a relationship that seemed to drain the life out of him. Their annoyance was only half-hidden, and you could see the resentment simmering in both of them, like the beginning of a storm.

Mattheo leaned in, his tone dripping with annoyance as he joined Blaise and Draco’s quiet complaints. "You know what gets me? She just has to be there every single time. Boys’ nights, Quidditch practices—even when we’re just hanging out talking about girls. She practically makes Theo sit in silence while she listens in, like we’re some kind of circus act performing just for her."

Blaise snorted, a bitter edge in his laugh. "It’s maddening. We can’t even relax around him anymore without her hanging on his every move, demanding all his attention like it’s some kind of test."

Draco gave a small, wry nod. "And Merlin forbid we talk about anything she doesn’t approve of. It’s like she’s scared we’re going to lead Theo astray if she’s not there to monitor every conversation."

Mattheo rolled his eyes, casting a glance at Theo, who was currently enduring his girlfriend’s over-the-top attention, looking exhausted and defeated. "She’s sucked all the life out of him." Mattheo muttered, shaking his head. "He doesn’t joke around with us anymore, doesn’t even talk about anything unless she’s ‘approved’ the conversation first."

You could hear the exasperation in Mattheo’s voice, echoing everything you felt yourself. They were right; it was like Theo was a shell of his former self, bound to her by nothing more than her relentless possessiveness. The boys’ irritation was boiling over, their whispers growing just loud enough that you feared she might hear. But they didn’t seem to care anymore.

You did, though, and shot them a pleading look to try and keep the peace. Tensions were already stretched thin, and if something snapped now, you worried it would be impossible to fix. You only hoped Theo could see through it all before everything went too far.

As you glanced over at Theo, the change in him was painfully clear. He looked smaller, somehow. The easy smile he used to flash during breakfast was gone, replaced with a weary, distracted look. He’d gone from being the witty, lively one in your group to barely speaking, keeping his eyes cast down, his shoulders perpetually slumped. It was like watching a light slowly dim.

You took a steadying breath, trying to keep your own frustration from showing. It had become your role, somehow, to hold things together—to keep the peace. If Theo noticed the tension brewing among his friends, he said nothing, perhaps too worn down to add another battle to his day. But with every passing moment, it felt like something had to give.

Yet here you all were, trapped in the stalemate of your seventh year, a tense silence settling over the table as his girlfriend continued to laugh, completely oblivious to the waves of irritation rolling off everyone around her.

Pansy moved seats, sliding onto the bench beside you, her expression a mix of frustration and worry as she leaned in, her voice just a whisper. "Caught him smoking again." she murmured, glancing sideways to make sure Theo’s girlfriend wasn’t listening. "Poor guy’s practically hiding in the shadows just to get a moment to himself."

You sighed, feeling the weight of her words settle over you. It had become all too familiar—Theo sneaking off more frequently, finding solitary corners of the castle to light a cigarette in peace. He’d always been a social smoker, only indulging on rare occasions or during particularly stressful times. But lately, you’d noticed the lingering scent of smoke around him more often, his fingers sometimes stained with ash from hasty, hidden smokes.

"He’s getting worse, isn’t he?" you murmured back, glancing at Theo. He looked pale and worn, a shadow of the friend you’d known since first year. And the worst part? The very person causing his stress was also the one berating him for it.

Pansy nodded, her gaze softening as she watched Theo from across the table. "It’s like a vicious cycle. She’s the reason he’s turning to it, yet she’s the one who’ll tear him apart if she catches him again."

Your heart ached for him, watching the way he seemed to fade a little more every day. He’d once been the friend you could laugh with about anything, the one who always had a clever quip ready or some sarcastic remark that would have everyone cracking up. Now he barely laughed, barely even smiled, constantly stuck in a web of someone else’s making.

As everyone started getting up to head to class, Draco leaned over toward Theo, his voice casual but with a note of genuine invitation. "Oi, Theo, you up for hanging out before the party?"

Theo’s face lit up, a glimpse of his old self emerging as he looked up and started to nod. "Yeah, I—"

But before he could finish, his girlfriend’s hand was already on his arm, her eyes narrowing as she glared at Draco. “Actually, we have plans. So, you can move along, Draco.” she cut in, her tone laced with barely hidden disdain.

The room seemed to hold its breath, Draco’s jaw tightening as he held her gaze. He was clearly trying to keep his temper in check, but his patience was hanging by a thread. With an exasperated sigh, he shot Theo a look that spoke volumes—both an apology and a warning—before reluctantly turning back and leaving the Grand Hall with the group.

Theo slumped back, his expression defeated, all the excitement drained out of him in an instant. He didn’t even bother to argue. You could see the exhaustion etched into his face as he sank lower in his chair, as though he’d expected this outcome all along.

As you walked to D.A.D.A class, you caught Draco’s eye, and he gave a subtle shake of his head, his own frustration mirroring your own. There was a tension in the air that was impossible to ignore, and it was only a matter of time before something would break.

~~~

The usual Friday night Slytherin party was in full swing, the common room lit with a warm, flickering glow as laughter and conversation filled the air. You were all seated in your usual spots on the couches, drinks in hand, enjoying the rare moment of camaraderie that Fridays always promised.

For a while, things felt normal again—comfortable, even. But then, of course, Theo’s girlfriend wedged herself into the group, shifting the entire energy of the evening. The lively conversation dulled as she took over, barely concealing her disdain as she joined in. You could feel the collective irritation settle in, an unspoken understanding among friends that her presence was, as always, unwelcome.

It wasn’t as if the group had a problem with partners joining them; quite the opposite. Each of them had dated at some point, and their significant others were always welcomed with open arms. There was a quiet understanding that relationships brought new energy into their tight-knit circle, and everyone usually made an effort to include them. Some of the best nights had been spent with the laughter of new faces blending seamlessly with their own, adding stories and jokes to the mix without disrupting the balance.

But this girl was different.

She was the first one who seemed determined to force herself in, to overshadow conversations and steal away Theo whenever it suited her. There was no laughter, no blending of energy—just her cutting remarks and possessive glances, her presence casting a shadow over their usual ease. No one could relax when she was around, knowing that any moment of fun or camaraderie could be snuffed out by her biting comments.

It was as if she thrived on control, slipping her influence over Theo like a chain, pulling him away piece by piece from the friends he’d known for years. The group had tried, at first, to welcome her in, to treat her like they would anyone else. But it became painfully clear over time that she wasn’t interested in being part of their lives; she was only interested in controlling Theo’s.

As you looked around at your friends, each of them casting uneasy glances her way, it was obvious that everyone felt it. The tension that lingered whenever she was near, the way the entire room seemed to lose its warmth when she entered. She wasn’t just an outsider. She was the first partner to truly ruin things for them.

Mattheo, who had been rudely interrupted tonight, had less patience than the rest of you. He was midway through a particularly animated story about his latest near-miss with Professor Snape when she interrupted, rolling her eyes and sighing loudly. Mattheo glared at her, barely holding back his annoyance. "Do you mind? Some of us actually want to hear my story."

She scoffed, crossing her arms and leaning back with an air of superiority. "Oh, please. Nobody cares about your stupid stories, Riddle."

A tense silence settled over the group, but Pansy wasted no time in stepping in, her tone sharp. "Actually, everyone but you cares. Maybe if you didn’t make it your mission to ruin every conversation, you’d know that."

Theo shifted uncomfortably, glancing at his girlfriend as if he wanted to step in but was too tired to argue. Meanwhile, you could see the smirk forming on Mattheo’s face, his gaze locked onto her with barely contained satisfaction.

"Yeah." Mattheo added, raising his drink in mock salute. "Cheers to that, Pans. At least some of us know how to have a good time."

His girlfriend flushed, anger flashing in her eyes, but she stayed silent, perhaps finally realizing that the rest of the group had no intention of backing down. It was a rare victory, but it didn’t feel as sweet as it should have—not when Theo was sitting there, staring down at his drink, looking like he was carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders.

Draco let out a frustrated sigh, running a hand through his hair as he leaned back on the couch, grumbling just loud enough for everyone to hear, "Well, that’s one way to ruin a perfectly good night."

The comment was sharper than usual, carrying the unmistakable weight of weeks—months, even—of suppressed irritation. He didn’t bother to look at Theo’s girlfriend, who was already glaring daggers at him, her face reddening as her patience finally snapped.

Turning on Theo, she crossed her arms, her voice icy and accusing. "Are you really just going to sit there and let them disrespect me like this? Unbelievable." She looked around the room as if daring someone to disagree, but no one moved or spoke. It was clear where everyone’s loyalties lay, and that only seemed to inflame her further.

Theo’s shoulders slumped, his expression somewhere between exhaustion and quiet resignation. He opened his mouth, as if to offer a half-hearted defence, but no words came. The effort it would take to argue—yet again—was too much for him tonight.

With a huff, she whipped around, storming away from the couches, her heels clicking loudly against the stone floor as she disappeared through the crowds in the common room.Her exit was followed by a heavy silence as everyone’s gaze shifted to Theo.

He let out a long, weary sigh, the sound carrying the weight of everything he hadn’t been able to say. The group was quiet, each of you trying to process what had just happened, but it was obvious that no one wanted to break the silence. 

Theo ran a hand over his face, looking down at his drink, and muttered, "I… I’m sorry, everyone."

Blaise cleared his throat, attempting a small smile to break the tension. "It’s all good, mate." he said, giving Theo’s shoulder a reassuring squeeze. "Honestly. No harm done." His tone was light, casual, like he was brushing it all off as if it hadn’t mattered at all. Blaise had always been the type to keep the peace when he could, trying to nudge things back toward their usual warmth.

But Mattheo’s face was another story, his jaw clenched tight as he glared at the door through which Theo’s girlfriend had just exited. He shook his head, muttering under his breath, "I’m getting real tired of this." his voice laced with barely controlled anger. His gaze flicked to Theo, and for a second, it looked like he might say something else, but he bit back his words, stewing silently.

The group sat there in uneasy silence, the usual lively atmosphere muted, everyone nursing their own thoughts. Theo’s shoulders stayed slumped, and you could sense the regret and frustration rolling off him in waves.

Just as the quiet began to settle, Pansy’s entire body tensed beside you. Her gaze was fixed on the far side of the room, her eyes wide. Following Pansy’s wide-eyed stare, your gaze landed on the far side of the common room where Theo’s girlfriend had reappeared, but she wasn’t alone.

Your stomach dropped as you saw her pressed up against another student from your house, their faces close, her hands running through his hair as she leaned in, kissing him with a brazen, shameless fervour. She didn’t seem to care who might see them, her actions loud and clear as if she were making a statement for everyone in the room.

A stunned silence fell over the group, each of you frozen in shock and disbelief. Blaise’s hand slipped off Theo’s shoulder as his jaw tightened, his earlier attempt at easing the mood now rendered meaningless. Mattheo muttered something under his breath, his fists clenched so tight his knuckles were white.

But Theo—Theo just stared, his face going pale as he watched her with that other guy, his expression a mixture of hurt and anger, mingled with a strange, hollow acceptance. It was as if he’d suspected something like this all along, yet seeing it unfold was a wound far deeper than anything he could have anticipated.

The tension in the room had reached a breaking point, each of you waiting for someone to say or do something, the air thick with disbelief and fury.

Theo didn’t say a word as he got up, his face blank, and headed toward the exit. You could see the tremor in his hands as he reached into his pocket, likely going for a cigarette to calm his fraying nerves. Without a glance back, he slipped out the door, leaving a heavy tension in his wake.

The second he was gone, you felt something snap inside you. Your fists clenched, and before you knew it, you were on your feet, ignoring the surprised looks from your friends as you made a straight line across the room, heading directly toward her.

She was still laughing with the guy she’d been kissing, completely unbothered, until she caught sight of you storming toward her. Her eyes narrowed, a look of feigned innocence crossing her face as she crossed her arms, almost daring you to confront her.

“What’s your problem?” she sneered, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

“What’s my problem?” you spat, the words tumbling out like fire. “What’s your problem, throwing yourself at some random guy in front of everyone when Theo’s just… just sitting there?” You could barely contain the anger shaking through you. “Do you have any idea what you’re doing to him?”

She rolled her eyes, scoffing. “Oh, please. Like it matters. Theo’s been a miserable bore for months. And who are you to talk to me about what I can or can’t do? Jealous, are we?”

A sharp, bitter laugh escaped you. “Jealous? No. I’m furious. Furious that you’ve taken someone who used to be happy and turned him into whatever you think he should be for your own ego.”

Her eyes flashed with anger. “You don’t know anything about us.”

“Oh, I know enough.” you shot back. “Enough to see you don’t care about him. He deserves better than to be treated like your possession, like some accessory you can throw away the second you get bored.”

The argument escalated, voices rising as the tension boiled over. Each accusation only fueled her anger, and she stepped closer, her voice venomous. “You think you’re so noble, don’t you? Acting like you know what’s best for him. Maybe he’s miserable because you all can’t let go of him.”

The room erupted as you snapped, the anger in you boiling over as you shot back, “You know what? You’re nothing but a manipulative bitch.” The words were barely out of your mouth before her face twisted with rage, and without warning, she shoved you hard, almost knocking you backward.

That was it.

Without a second thought, you lunged forward, colliding with her as the two of you stumbled, grabbing at each other in a flurry of fury. The next moments were a blur of shouts, hands, and the sharp sting of pulled hair and clawing nails as you both fought, neither one willing to back down.

Draco, Blaise, Mattheo, and Pansy were on you in seconds, surrounding the chaos, but looking caught between trying to pull you apart and staying out of the way. Blaise’s eyes widened, flicking between you and the girl as if he couldn’t believe this was actually happening. Draco stepped forward, arms out, calling your name, but the intensity of the fight kept him at bay.

“Bloody hell!” Mattheo shouted, looking between you and Draco, unsure whether to jump in or let you have it out. “Someone pull them off each other!”

Pansy, on the other hand, didn’t hesitate. She moved in closer, her voice sharp and commanding as she tried to grab your arm. “Enough! You’re going to get us all into trouble—stop!”

But the damned bitch was relentless, snarling as she tried to push you away, her eyes alight with rage. “Stay out of our business, you’re nothing to him! Just some desperate hanger-on!”

Fueled by her words, you managed to break free from Pansy’s grasp for a moment, lunging again, but this time, Draco and Mattheo grabbed you by the shoulders, dragging you back as Pansy stepped in between, raising her voice. “Stop it, both of you!”

The door creaked open, and Theo appeared in the doorway, cigarette in hand, eyes wide as he took in the scene unfolding before him. The shock on his face was unmistakable as he realized what had happened, confusion turning to something darker as he looked between you and his girlfriend, who was now dishevelled, panting, and glaring at you with venom in her eyes.

You stood there, chest heaving, adrenaline still surging through you as you tried to regain control. The room was dead silent, everyone too stunned to move, but your gaze was locked on her—bruised, bloodied and dishevelled, glaring up at you with a twisted smirk on her face.

“You think you’re so special, don’t you?” she sneered, her voice dripping with malice. “The only reason why Theo even stays close to you is because he pities you… and your pathetic dead parents.”

The words struck a nerve deep within, unleashing a storm of anger that washed over you like a tidal wave. Before you knew it, you’d pulled out your wand, rage blinding you, the incantation forming on your lips as the words seethed out, “Cruc—”

But before you could finish, a hand clamped over your mouth, silencing the curse in an instant. Theo had rushed behind you, his grip firm yet desperate, his wide eyes filled with panic, fear, and something else—something pleading.

“Enough.” he whispered, his voice barely above a murmur. His hand stayed pressed over your mouth, holding you back, while his other hand gently grasped your wrist, lowering your wand.

You blinked, the anger slowly dissolving into a mess of emotions, the weight of what you’d nearly done settling over you. Theo didn’t move, keeping his steady hold on you.Theo glanced around at the group, his expression a mixture of exhaustion, and protectiveness. Without another word, he took your hand, his grip firm but gentle, and led you out of the common room, past the stunned silence of your friends. Draco, Blaise, Mattheo, and Pansy watched, exchanging concerned looks but staying silent, knowing this was something only Theo could handle.

He guided you through the dimly lit corridor, never loosening his hold on your hand as he made his way to his dorm room. You followed in a daze, your heart still pounding as the adrenaline began to ebb, replaced by a confusing whirl of emotions—anger, shame, relief, all tangled up together.

Once you were inside his dormitory, he shut the door behind you both, locking it with a quick flick of his wand. The room was quiet, a soft glow from the lamps casting a warm light over his belongings, the familiar scent of his cologne faintly lingering in the air. Theo turned to face you, his hand still holding yours as he took a deep breath, his expression softened, though his eyes remained filled with a quiet intensity.

“You… you almost used Crucio.” he murmured, his voice a mix of disbelief and concern. His thumb brushed over your knuckles, grounding you, as he searched your face, trying to make sense of everything that had just happened.

You looked down, feeling a wave of guilt rise up, the weight of what you’d nearly done settling heavily on your shoulders. “I’m sorry.” you whispered, your voice barely audible. “I just… she went too far. She’s hurt you way too much, Theo.”

Theo exhaled, releasing some of the tension in his shoulders, and took a step closer, his gaze softening further. “I know.” he said quietly. “I’ve known for a while now. I just didn’t want to believe it.”

He let go of your hand only to gently cup your face, his thumb brushing softly across your cheek, grounding you, as he whispered, “But you… you can’t let her make you into something you’re not.”

~~~

Theo never officially ended things with his girlfriend. There was no formal breakup, no final argument, but it didn’t matter—everyone could see that it was over. She didn’t come around anymore, didn’t dare try to force her way back into the friend group after the scene you’d caused. The bruises you’d left had faded, but the message had been loud and clear, and it seemed she’d finally accepted it.

You’d earned yourself a month of detention for the fight, and though the professors had given you disappointed looks and stern lectures, none of it fazed you. You took the punishment with a sense of pride, wearing it like a badge of honour. If you had to do it all over again, you would. Theo’s well-being, his freedom, had been worth every second spent scrubbing cauldrons and rewriting parchments under Filch’s glare. You weren’t ashamed for putting her in her place; she’d deserved it and more.

The only lingering regret was that split-second decision to pull your wand, to nearly utter the curse that could have changed everything. That was the one thing that weighed on you, the reminder that, in your anger, you’d almost let her bring out the darkest part of yourself. But Theo had stopped you, pulled you back from the edge. And in the quiet moments of your detentions, it was that thought that lingered, his hand on yours, his voice steadying you when you’d needed it most.

Since then, Theo had been… different. Freer, lighter, as though the weight he’d been carrying had finally lifted. He didn’t say much about what had happened, but he was around you constantly, seeking you out, sitting beside you in classes and at meals, sharing quiet moments without needing to speak.

He never said it directly, but in the way he looked at you, the way he stayed close, it was clear. You’d been there for him when he’d needed it most, and he wasn’t about to forget it.

As the weeks passed, the group’s dynamic began to shift back to normal, the heaviness that had hung over everything finally starting to lift. The familiar laughter and banter returned, the camaraderie that had once been the foundation of your friendship rekindled. It felt like everyone could breathe again, like the unspoken tension had finally evaporated, taking with it the gloom of Theo’s toxic relationship.

The others hadn’t let you off easily, though. Ever since that night, they’d given you a new nickname, a playful jab that seemed to stick—“The Hitman.” Whenever you entered a room, Mattheo or Blaise would grin and say something like, “Look out, the Hitman’s here. Better watch what we say.” Draco would give you a mock salute, pretending to be wary of your next move, and Pansy would pat you on the shoulder, shaking her head with a smile and muttering, “Our very own bodyguard.”

They teased you relentlessly, but you didn’t mind. If anything, it filled you with a quiet pride. You’d earned it, and knowing they’d all be just as protective over you, had the situation been reversed, only strengthened the bond between you all.

Theo, meanwhile, seemed to have thrown himself back into Quidditch with renewed energy. Every practice was more intense, every play sharper. He channelled all his frustration, all the months of suppressed anger, into the pitch, his focus like a laser. Theo was back to being the friend you remembered—driven, concentrated, locked in on his own priorities, and finally unburdened. Watching him fly across the field with that fierce determination, you knew he was ready to leave the past behind.

And as he trained, you couldn’t help but notice the small glances he’d send your way after a particularly successful practice. When he’d make an impressive play, his gaze would drift toward the stands, where he knew you were watching, his grin just a bit wider when he caught your eye. It was as if he was finally himself again—fierce, focused, and free.

~~~

The final match of the season had the entire school buzzing, and you and Pansy stood shoulder to shoulder in the stands, bundled against the brisk wind, your hearts pounding with excitement. The atmosphere was electric, green and silver flags waving wildly in the air, cheers rising like waves as the players took their positions on the field. The Slytherin team was locked in, each player’s gaze fierce, and at the centre of it all was Theo—focused, determined, every bit the player you’d always believed he could be.

From the first whistle, the match was intense, a flurry of movement as players darted back and forth, Quaffles flying, Bludgers smashing through the air. Every play had you and Pansy gasping or shouting, barely able to stay still as the score climbed steadily, each team battling for dominance. Gryffindor’s Chasers were relentless, pressing the Slytherin defence with an intensity that sent chills through the stands.

As Gryffindor advanced toward the goal, weaving past Slytherin players with almost frightening speed, your heart raced. Theo was there, hovering near the posts, watching, waiting. The Gryffindor Chaser drew closer, feinting left before taking a sharp turn to the right, raising his arm to shoot. You held your breath, fingers digging into the railing as the Quaffle hurtled toward the left hoop, aimed with deadly precision.

But Theo was faster. With a sudden, powerful lunge, he darted across the goal, stretching his arm out just in time to deflect the Quaffle. The impact echoed across the pitch, and for a split second, everything was still. Then, the Slytherin section of the stands erupted in cheers, and you and Pansy screamed, jumping up and down, adrenaline surging through you.

“Yes! Did you see that?” Pansy shrieked, grabbing your arm as she laughed in pure exhilaration. “He saved it! He actually saved it!”

Your eyes were locked on Theo, who was grinning, his face flushed with triumph as he exchanged a brief look with Draco, who had already positioned himself higher above the pitch. The save had disrupted Gryffindor’s formation, and in the split second of chaos, Draco seized his chance, his eyes fixed on a flash of gold darting across the field.

“Go, Draco!” you shouted, your voice barely audible over the crowd’s roar. Your hands were clenched, and Pansy was beside herself, both of you leaning so far over the railing that you might as well have been on brooms yourselves.

Draco was a blur as he sped after the Snitch, his eyes narrowed, his entire body angled forward with singular purpose. Gryffindor’s Seeker was close behind him, pushing hard to catch up, but Draco had the lead, his broom slicing through the air as he reached out, his fingers grazing the Snitch’s fluttering wings.

“Come on, come on…” Pansy muttered, clutching your arm as you both watched, barely daring to breathe.

With a final lunge, Draco’s hand closed around the Snitch, raising it triumphantly in the air. The crowd erupted, the Slytherin side a sea of celebration as students cheered, shouted, and hugged. You and Pansy screamed, the exhilaration almost overwhelming, watching as Theo and the other Slytherin players surrounded Draco, lifting him onto their shoulders, their faces bright with victory.

Before you knew it, the entire house was rushing down to the pitch, flooding onto the field in a wave of green and silver. You and Pansy exchanged a breathless look before joining the charge, weaving through the ecstatic crowd, eager to congratulate the team.

The players were already on the ground, grinning, shouting, their faces flushed with victory as they clapped each other on the back. Theo, Blaise, Mattheo, and Draco stood in the middle of it all, surrounded by the crowd, practically lifted off their feet by their housemates’ enthusiasm.

You and Pansy finally pushed through, laughing as you spotted Theo first, his hair messy and his cheeks pink, looking more alive than you’d ever seen him. Without a second thought, you wrapped him in a hug, feeling his arms come around you tightly, the two of you sharing a moment of pure celebration, all the weight of the past weeks forgotten in the euphoria.

“You were amazing, Theo!” you shouted over the noise, pulling back to meet his eyes. His grin was wide and genuine, the happiness in his expression infectious.

“Only because I had the best fans cheering me on.” he replied with a wink, his voice filled with excitement.

Pansy immediately pulled Draco into a hug, shouting something about how he’d almost given her a heart attack with that final dive for the Snitch. Draco laughed, hugging her back before turning to you, and you threw your arms around him, congratulating him on the catch.

One by one, you and Pansy made your way through the group, hugging each of the boys, feeling the thrill of victory in every laugh, every smile. Mattheo picked you up briefly, spinning you around before setting you down, both of you laughing as he ruffled your hair. Blaise gave you a quick hug, still beaming as he clapped Theo on the shoulder, their shared pride shining through.

The air buzzed with joy and triumph as the celebration continued on the field, the Slytherin house united in victory, the players and friends all caught up in the moment, letting the adrenaline and happiness wash over them. This was the kind of memory that would stay with you forever—the kind of joy that felt limitless, boundless, and for a moment, everything was perfect.

As the crowd began to move off the pitch, heading back to the Slytherin common room with laughter and celebration echoing through the night, you felt a gentle tug on your arm. Turning, you found Theo beside you, his hand lingering on your wrist as he subtly pulled you back from the group. His expression was warm, his eyes softened with something quieter than the exhilaration of the victory, and your heart skipped a beat as you slowed to match his pace.

The others drifted ahead, too wrapped up in their own excitement to notice the two of you hanging back. Theo glanced around, making sure no one was watching, before he looked at you with a faint smile.

“I wanted to thank you.” he said, his voice low, barely audible over the lingering noise of celebration. “For everything. Not just for tonight.”

You felt a warmth spread through you as he spoke, his words carrying a weight that went beyond the game, beyond the victory. It was about everything that had happened—the support, the fight, the loyalty you’d shown him through the toughest moments.

“You don’t have to thank me,. you replied softly, smiling up at him. “I’d do it all over again if I had to.”

Theo’s eyes held yours, something unspoken passing between you. Then, without another word, he pulled you into a hug, his arms wrapping around you with a warmth and familiarity that felt like home. You could feel his heartbeat against yours, steady and strong, and for a brief moment, the rest of the world faded away.

As he pulled back, his face close to yours, he hesitated, his gaze flickering to your lips for the briefest of seconds before he looked away, a faint blush creeping into his cheeks. Clearing his throat, he grinned, the moment of vulnerability passing as he nodded toward the path ahead.

For a brief second, a tense, awkward silence settled between you, each of you unsure of what to do, the unspoken tension hanging heavy in the cool night air. You could feel your pulse racing, your heart hammering with the anticipation that had been building for what felt like ages.Theo cleared his throat, looking away for a moment as if to collect himself, but when he glanced back at you, his eyes lingered, conflicted yet intent. As if deciding all at once, he leaned in, his hand reaching up to gently cup your cheek, and before either of you could think twice, his lips brushed softly against yours.

The kiss was brief but electric, a quiet intensity that sent a thrill through you, leaving you breathless. But just as you began to process what was happening, he pulled back, his hand falling to his side as he looked down, his cheeks flushed with a mix of embarrassment and guilt.

“I… I’m sorry.” he stammered, his voice barely above a whisper. “I shouldn’t have— I didn’t mean to—”

You could see the regret in his eyes, the way he seemed to be bracing himself for your reaction, almost ashamed. He looked ready to pull away, to distance himself again. You felt a surge of determination rise within you. You couldn’t let him pull away, not when the moment felt so right. As he started to step back, you reached out, your fingers brushing gently against his hand, grounding him before he could retreat.

Without hesitation, you leaned forward, closing the small distance between you, and kissed him—slowly, deeply, allowing the tension and emotions that had built up to flow freely. This time, there was no awkwardness, no hesitation, only the warmth of his lips against yours, the steady beat of his heart echoing through the touch.

Theo stilled for a moment, his surprise quickly melting into something softer, more certain, as he responded, his hands finding their way to your waist, pulling you closer. The world around you faded, the distant sounds of laughter and celebration from the common room dimming as you both gave in to the kiss, the barriers that had held you apart finally breaking down. The kiss deepened, a magnetic pull drawing you closer until the world outside that moment ceased to exist. Theo’s hands traced a path up your back, sending a warmth through you that made everything else fade. His lips moved with a gentleness, a passion that left you breathless, a release of everything the two of you had held back for so long.

Somehow, amid the intensity, his Quidditch shirt slipped off, discarded in the haze of your closeness. When you finally pulled away, both of you breathless, he paused, his eyes dark with a mixture of affection and amusement as he looked down at the shirt in his hands. Without a word, he lifted it, slipping it gently over your shoulders, letting the familiar, slightly worn fabric settle around you.

The warmth of his hands lingered as he adjusted the shirt on you, his gaze softening as he took in the sight. You looked down, cheeks blazing when you caught a glimpse of his toned chest, the result of years of Quidditch training, each muscle defined and yet somehow perfectly understated. His eyes sparkled as he noticed your blush, a small smile tugging at his lips.

“Come on.” he murmured, his voice soft as he reached for your hand. He squeezed it, grounding you back to the moment, his thumb brushing lightly over your knuckles. With a gentle tug, he pulled you back toward the Slytherin common room, the warmth of his presence steady beside you as the night’s quiet secrets lingered in the air around you.

As you and Theo stepped into the common room, the lively energy of the celebration settled into a curious, knowing silence. Every eye flicked between the two of you—his shirt draped around you, cheeks flushed, Theo’s hair slightly tousled. It didn’t take much for your friends to put the pieces together, but no one dared to say a word, their smiles a mix of amusement and silent approval.

Draco raised an eyebrow, shooting a smirk in Theo’s direction, while Mattheo gave you a subtle thumbs-up, as though finally, after everything, a balance had been restored. Blaise’s grin was unmistakable, though he kept his comments to himself for once, nodding at you in quiet acknowledgment.

Across the room, Pansy caught your eye, her own gaze softened with pride and understanding. She gave you a small, satisfied smile, as if she’d known this was inevitable all along. You returned her glance, feeling the warmth of friendship and relief wash over you, grounding you in the moment.

Without a word, Theo’s hand found yours again, squeezing it gently. In that simple touch, everything felt right, all the struggles and tension finally giving way to a peace you’d both waited so long for. You looked around, surrounded by friends who had stood by you both, and for the first time in months, everything felt exactly as it should be.

And as you settled down into the couch beside Theo, your fingers still intertwined, a quiet contentment settled over the room, the unspoken promise of new beginnings hanging in the air.

Likes, reblogs and comments are always very much appreciated! ♡

© slytherinsmuse. please do not copy, claim, translate or steal any of my works as your own.

[therealcocoshady]

So I was thinking if you’re taking requests maybe a Em x reader where she’s plus size, they’ve been friends for a while and someone makes a comment making fun of her weight or how Em would never be with someone like her & reader overhears Em’s confession/response? In need for a happy ending type of fic.

Kinktober - Day 20 - Size Difference

Kinktober 2024 Masterlist

A/N : thank you for your request ! I think it fights right with the Kinktober Day 20 prompt, which is « Size Difference ». I hope you enjoy it 💕.

CW : Size difference - Plus sized reader - Fluff

The dining room was warm and buzzing with laughter and chatter as the evening settled into its comfortable rhythm. Marshall sat beside you, leaning back with that familiar, laid-back posture, fingers idly tapping the edge of his glass as he listened to some story being told across the table. You felt a flicker of contentment just sitting beside him, enjoying the moment. You loved a good dinner party : great food and good company. It was even better when Marshall was around : his humor and playful remarks were always the cherry on the cake. The two of you had been friends for years, your bond built on banter and that magnetic, unspoken understanding. There was a spark, sure, but you had always kind of danced around it, knowing it was always there, like a half-breath between you. It was playful and fun but, at the end of the day, he was him and you were, well, you. And even though you sometimes thought of how great it might be if the friendship turned into something more, you were simply grateful to be in his presence.

At one point during the dinner, you excused yourself to step outside, needing a breath of fresh air and maybe just a moment alone. As you headed for the balcony, you didn’t realize that your absence would become the focal point of a conversation you’d never intended to overhear. Marshall was taking a sip of his drink when he heard one of his friends, that you had not crossed paths with too often, chuckle, glancing toward the door you had just passed through.

“So, uh, what’s the deal between you and Y/N?” the guy asked, with that tone that conveyed his thought on your friendship, probably deeming unlikely. After all, most people wouldn’t expect one of the most successful rappers to be such good friends with a female, much less one that did not look like a Victoria’s Secret model. Marshall’s brow furrowed at the question. “We’ve been friends for a while. Why?” The guy shrugged, giving a half-smile. “Nothing, man. I’m just surprised. Thought you’d go for, you know…” He motioned vaguely with his hand. “Someone more your…size.”

Marshall’s eyes narrowed, but the guy kept going, oblivious. “Look, she's nice, sure, but I mean— she might get the wrong idea and think there’s something there. And, well, she’s not exactly…. In your league, you know what I’m saying?” A heaviness dropped in your chest. You didn’t mean to overhear a conversation you were obviously not privy to. You could feel your eyes starting to burn. How humiliating. You’d left your seat for a minute and people were making fun of you. Right when you thought you were having a great time. You stayed on the balcony, looking away, pretending not to hear anything, hoping the conversation would end soon, so that you could go back to your seat and pretend that nothing happened. You didn’t see Marshall glance toward the balcony door. “Yeah,” Marshall said, his tone cold, “you’re right.”

You could feel your heart drop. Of course you knew that Marshall was out of your league. Anyone could see that. And you knew he knew it too. But to hear him acknowledge it, as simple as that, it still hurt. You would have hoped he’d at least defend you and say what a great friend you were. You could feel a lump form in your throat, before he continued. “She’s way out of my league.” Marshall’s voice softened as he glanced back toward the balcony door. “She’s the kind of woman who’s smart and hilarious, who’s real and doesn’t fake a damn thing. She’s gorgeous and incredible and—well, you wouldn’t get it. Someone like her?” He paused, letting the words sink in. “She’d never go for someone like me.”

The guy stammered, clearly at a loss for words. “But I mean, what is it that you actually see in her?” Marshall shook his head, a glint of disbelief in his eyes as he looked his friend square in the face. “What do I see in her?” He gave a small laugh. “Everything. I mean, have you seen her?”

You thought you were about to cry from the humiliation, but then you heard Marshall’s voice, steady and honest, filling in every corner of doubt she’d ever had. By the time he finished, your cheeks felt hot. There was a moment of silence and you decided to come back. You took a deep breath, calming your nerves, and approached the table, quietly slipping back into your seat beside him. Marshall glanced over, flashing her that signature, knowing smile, like you were his favorite person to see across the room. The conversation switched to another topic, moving on to some workplace gossip.

Without a word, you reached under the table and found his hand. His fingers stilled for a beat, then curled around yours, his thumb tracing a gentle pattern on your skin, like he’d been waiting for this moment as much as you had. He looked over, and your eyes met, a silent understanding passing between you, deeper than words. “Out of your league, huh?” You whispered, your voice a mixture of teasing and something softer, more serious. He squeezed your hand gently, his demeanor oddly calm though you could see a flicker of anticipation in his eyes. “Way, way out of my league,” he murmured, a slow, genuine smile spreading across his face.

You both focused on the table conversation, but neither of you could actually keep your attention from straying to the connection between your hands, fingers gently toying and tracing each other. Every once in a while, Marshall’s thumb would brush across your knuckles, a delicate and unhurried stroke that sent little shivers up your arm. You bit your lip, suppressing a smile, feeling your cheeks warm under the subtle, unspoken affection radiating from him. At one point, he leaned back casually, still holding your hand beneath the table, and threw in one of his usual sarcastic comments at something one of your friends said. But as he spoke, he lightly drew circles against your palm, his fingers grazing yours with a mix of playfulness and tenderness. It felt like a secret only the two of you shared, a silent language spoken in touch instead of words. You risked a glance at him, your eyes catching his for the briefest moment. He was mid-sentence, but when he saw you look, he shot you a crooked smile, raising one eyebrow in that mischievous way of his. He gave your hand another gentle squeeze, like he was saying, ‘I’ve got you.’

Your friends seemed oblivious, absorbed in their own conversations, while you and Marshall seemed to exist in your own bubble, a world of hidden smiles and quiet gestures. With each minute that passed, your confidence in this unspoken connection grew, and your touches became bolder. His hand slipped down to your wrist, feeling the steady rhythm of your pulse, while you traced your fingertips along the callouses on his, each touch a little thrill that left you wanting more. By dessert, you were leaning in just a little closer, your shoulder brushing his as you exchanged quick, playful whispers and comments about the evening’s conversations. The closeness of him, the warmth of his hand in yours, all made your heart pound in a way that was intoxicating.

Finally, as the evening wound down, people beginning to gather coats and say goodbyes, Marshall gave your hand one last squeeze, holding your gaze in a look that spoke volumes. As you stepped into the elevator, the doors sliding shut, the quiet tension that had been building all night seemed to close in around you. The moment you were alone, it was as though the air became charged, the silence between the two of you suddenly thick with every unspoken word and lingering look you’d shared at the dinner table.

You leaned back against the wall of the elevator, your breath catching as Marshall took a step closer. His gaze roamed over you, clearly taking in the way your dress hugged your curves, accentuating every line, every dip. He looked at you like he couldn’t tear his eyes away if he tried, and your pulse quickened, your body responding to the heat in his stare. He raised a hand, his fingers brushing along your cheek, trailing down to your jaw, gentle but deliberate. His voice was a low, warm rumble, barely above a whisper. “You’re so damn gorgeous, you know that?” You felt your cheeks flush, your lips parting, but before you could say anything, his mouth was on your, soft but insistent. The kiss was slow at first, like he was savoring every second, his hand slipping around to the back of your neck, holding you close as he deepened the kiss.

Your hands found their way to his chest, fingers curling into the fabric of his hoodie as you pulled him closer, letting yourself get lost in the feeling of his mouth against yours, the warmth of his body pressing into you. She could taste the faint hint of Diet Coke on his lips, feel the steady beat of his heart against your fingertips, and it made your head spin. Marshall’s hands slid down, resting on your hips, pulling you against him, his touch possessive yet tender. His lips moved to your jaw, then to your neck, leaving a trail of kisses that made you melt against him, your breath coming quicker with each soft, lingering touch. “You have no idea…” he murmured against your skin, his voice thick with desire. “No idea how beautiful you are.”

His hand traced down your side, following the curve of your waist, fingers exploring every dip and line as though committing you to memory. You arched into him, your own hands roaming up to his shoulders, feeling the strength in him, the tension just beneath the surface. When he looked at you again, his eyes were filled with an intensity that made your knees weak. He brushed a stray strand of hair behind your ear, his thumb grazing your cheek as he leaned in once more, capturing your mouth in another kiss that was deeper, needier. The world outside the elevator ceased to exist; there was only the warmth of his touch, the soft hum of the elevator, and the way he made you feel, like you were the only woman in the world.

[universalzones]

Blaze was left with a rather sour taste in her mouth after that short interaction, though it only showed that Amy was correct about this Abe. Though she still had her options, and perhaps it was time to call in some reinforcements of her own. The feline harnessing some of her power before opening up a portal. The moment she did a large knight that might even make people like Storm look small walked through. They wore heavy armor and a helmet which covered their face. On their right shoulder was a emblem with the seven Sol Emeralds with the red on in the center slightly larger. "Were you, waiting for me to open a portal?"

"Your mother had a vision of you needing aid in the future a week ago and requested I wait at the palace gates on this day." The voice was deep, though still feminine. "How may I be of service your Highness?"

"Of course she did. Even though she is long retired from her role of training me to be guardian she still can't help worry about me." Blaze had taken role while her mother shifted her entire focus on running the Sol Empire as such is their way. Though he mother always had the ability to peek into the future, and this allowed her great advantages. "Give me a moment." The feline would sit on the ground, crossing her legs.

Blaze would begin sensing where everyone was, picking up that Lanolin seemed to be heading towards the west check point with a group while the other went to the east. "Head to the east check point, though don't engage unless The Restoration does or they attack you. I shall guide you while speaking to Lanolin."

"At once you're highness. If they are foolish enough to engage me in battle I'll make them regret it." The knight bowed before rushing off at a rather impressive speed for someone of their size.

Blaze would start guiding the knight as best she could with the limited knowledge of the base, though would also connect to Lanolin mental. "Lanolin, can you hear me? If you can I have requested some aid from my world and have them heading to the opposite check point."

===========================================================

"Well, I've seen those two fight before, at least for a small bit so I don't think they were. It does seem like Surge was simply trying to catch Sonic. Though that is the real question. Why?" Belle nor Lanolin didn't have to wait long as Tails voice came on the intercom and began to try and talk Sonic down. Seemed like this was a moment where the hedgehog was mad which surprised her. The tinkerer never thought he was the type to be angry.

"Then I'll try to calm him down while you keep heading to the check point. With any luck I should be able to rejoin you with Sonic and Surge behind me. Gaia knows we'll need both of them calm and collective to try and get GUN to back off." Belle didn't want any fighting to break out, though if it comes to that having those two work together would be good.

The general nodded his head to the Princess playing the diplomat seemed to suit him. He was absolutely emotionless the entire time even when threatened as subtle or not so subtle by the princess his features barely changed. He seemed to agree to her terms, it was a small victory but perhaps what they needed to keep this conflict from spiraling out of hand.

" Agreeable terms, and i trust your people won't do anything foolish in return... i want to resolve this peacefully as well princess. We both have orders and people to answer to. Let's try to keep a level head despite the tensions. "

He said in a calmer tone as his eyes turned as if someone was speaking to him off screen.

" If you'll excuse me i have to attend to other matters. But i'll keep this line open, for further communications. Don't hesitate to call should you require it... "

The screen blipped and went dark, though the line was open the communication went dark for now. Seemed the Princess was up against quite a skilled soldier, if only in his ability to keep his intentions hidden.

============================================

Lanolin knew it was a risk to involve the giant Wisp, but right now she was looking for advantages. The wisps had been there stalwart allies for awhile now. Her hope was that having such a powerful ally would force GUN to back off or think twice about any sort of hostility. Despite her anger at the situation and GUN as a whole. She didn't want this to blow up into a real fight.

" I know Belle... involving the Wisp has it's risks but we need a solid advantage. Right now if GUN decided to be hostile we'd get over run in seconds... even if sonic and Surge was here... they'd have to focus on the air ships. We need a solid deterrent she's our best shot..."

Though the burst of air nearly toppled her Lanolin was a big girl, and she managed to keep her feet on the ground. She reached down to help Belle back up only to have to jump back to avoid getting run over by surge! She reached out to Belle and pulled her back to her feet. Her eyes locked on the direction the two ran.

" I hope that's not a fight between those two, that's the last thing we need right now... and--- no i think she was chasing Sonic. Best case they are rushing to help someone... worst case they are in middle of a high speed battle against each other. Wish we had..."

She stopped as Miles came over the intercom talking to Sonic? She was confused more then ever. Was there first thoughts utterly backwards? Was Surge trying to Stop Sonic? Then it hit her like a ton of bricks! the reality of the situation turned dark real fast--- Sonic was the one about to attack GUN! because of what happened to Amy!

" He found out about Amy... this is bad, if Sonic starts a War between both sides it could spiral out of hand fast..."

[deadpresidents]

Thanks for being real today.

I get people wanting to be hopeful.

But I can't with "it will be okay" and "we will survive this."

It was not okay for Heather Heyer, Joseph Rosenbaum, Anthony Huber, Joyce Fienberg, Richard Gottfried, Rose Mallinger, Jerry Rabinowitz, Cecil & David Rosenthal, Bernice & Sylvan Simon, Daniel Stein, Melvin Wax, Irving Younger, Andre Anchondo, Jordan Anchondo, Arturo Benavides, Leonardo Campos, Angie Englisbee, Maria Flores, Raul Flores, Guillermo "Memo" Garcia, Jorge Calvillo García, Adolfo Cerros Hernández, Alexander Gerhard Hoffman, David Johnson, Luis Alfonzo Juarez, Maria Eugenia Legarreta Rothe, Maribel (Campos) Loya, Ivan Filiberto Manzano, Elsa Mendoza Marquez, Gloria Irma Márquez, Margie Reckard, Sara Esther Regalado Moriel, Javier Rodriguez, Teresa Sanchez, Juan Velazquez, or any of the other people killed by white supremacists whose actions were aided and abetted by the Trump presidency. These people did not survive. Not to mention all the people who haven't survived COVID, but might have if the Trump administration had taken timely action. Or the women who have died after being refused appropriate medical care because of the rapist and his buddies that Trump appointed decided with some weird pastor in the 1600 said was more important than the lives of actual living, breathing, human beings. Or the school children who would not have been shot to death if we had actual gun control laws in this country, a thing that would have been possible to achieve if Trump had lost in 2016.

Yeah, sure, the majority of us in the United States will probably survive. That's how statistics work. And if that's what somebody needs to hear in order to move forward, then I guess saying such things has a purpose. But it's looking pretty shitty for anybody living in Ukraine and to me, it comes across as disrespectful to the people whose lives have been lost in no small part thanks to what goes down in US elections.

I needed somebody today who would say not only that this is not okay, but this is *really* not okay.

Thanks for being that voice.

Thank you for this. I can't help but write what I feel, even if some of it hasn't been the most optimistic message to send. There is a reality that we need to come to terms with in order to find some way forward. I'm pissed off and I'm disgusted with this country, so I'm going to keep doing what I've been doing because it is therapeutic for me right now and I'm too old to go around punching and kicking people.

I do want to say that I'm also cognizant of the fact that some people just need some time to allow this reality to settle. I certainly don't want to add to the stress or darkness that some of us are feeling right now. There is no denying that this is fucking terrible, but we will regroup and find a way through it. It won't be easy and we're going to have to fight, but I don't want anybody to think that there is genuinely no hope. There's always something that we can do, even if it seems bleak.

If I'm writing something or somebody else is saying something that you're not ready to hear, it's okay to do what you need to do to remain healthy. These posts are going to be here whenever you might feel like reading them. You can and should step away from this if you just need a fucking break. It doesn't mean you're any less ready or willing to fight this battle than anybody else. Even if Trump and the rotten MAGA cult takes control of every lever of power, you can gain a personal victory by not allowing them to completely crush your faith in the future. You can be depressed and despair, but do not give up. Do not give them that power over you. We will find a way. We will get through this. We will figure out what it is that we need to do and who we need to back and how we need to attack, but taking care of your personal health and well-being is more immediately important than the bigger political battle or the next step in the resistance. Take care of yourselves first and we'll still be here and ready to eventually harness this anger and frustration and fucking disgust to defeat the MAGA movement and Trump's Christian nationalist personality cult.

The main thing, though, is that if you're really having a tough time in the immediate future, step away, take some time, go for a walk, read something that has absolutely nothing to do with Donald Trump or American politics (if you need suggestions, I always have book recommendations!), and regroup. Again, we'll get through this, and as goofy and weird and ridiculous as Tumblr can be at times, there's always a community of people on this site willing to listen and help each other when we're struggling. So, if you are having trouble getting to tomorrow, reach out because there are scores of people here who will help get there with you.

[restinslices]

LKBS W/ A Quiet Kid

Finally getting back to requests :D. I put more focus on certain parts so it's not a copy and paste for each brother. Reread The Hunger Games recently so I imagined the kid being similar to Rue in behavior. Here you go @notbojack

He so fucking fine, omfg-

Back to the topic at hand, Tomas wasn’t the only kid his father took in

Shortly before his death, his father brought you home - a 12 year old kid who clung to him like wet tar

How did this come to be? Um, I’m imagining a situation where you were sent to kill his dad but he was like “naur, join us” and you did. Idk gang. It’s 11/6, I’m discombobulated

As we know, his father died. Now, Bi-Han is an asshole but he has limits. He wasn’t just gonna throw you out on the streets

Honestly I think he doesn’t mind how quiet you are

He’s not much of a talker either, so ya’ll just sit by each other

It’s kinda hard for him to understand your situation at first. After all, he’s a trained assassin. He’s been training since the day he could walk. To him, an assassin’s life is normal

Once his father is dead, taking care of you becomes his responsibility. This means that now he really has to be face to face with you during your worst moments

He’s woken up one day to the most awful screaming he’s ever heard. He can hear the strain on the vocal cords. It leads him to your room and he sees you screaming your head off in your sleep

He immediately wakes you up, expecting you to relax. Instead, you try to fight him off and claw yourself away from him. Only after reminding you who he is and a lot of convincing you that you’re safe and at home, you finally relax

You tremble next to him while apologizing profusely and that’s when he realizes something

This is the first time he’s ever heard your voice

I think this is when it'll really hit him how fucked your situation was. He was trained to be an assassin, yeah, but he still had free will

He's not the best at emotions, but I think he'd try for you

I wouldn't expect some long and deep talk about your past, but he'd watch over you more. He becomes very observant and takes note of your triggers

He's still strict, but he doesn't yell at you

I can see you jumping after he accidentally yells at you and he's like "ykw? I just might be the problem-"

Doesn't do it again

You have random spasms because of electrocutions. I can see him trying to find a way to help

He lets you trail behind him like you're his shadow

He absolutely will NOT say your trigger words

He thinks having your skills is something you should keep and improve on, even if they came about in an unpleasant way

You gotta fight for the Lin Kuei but I don't think he's ever like "go kill for me soldier!"

It's more like a... A uhhh "hey! We're going on a field trip! :D"

Idk if he'd ever ask if you'd like to sleep in his bed (he likes his space. "I GOTTA PUT ME FIRST LUCIOUS!") but I can see him being fine sleeping in the same room

Bi-Han and Sektor are your new parents

Overall, I think Bi-Han would be the best when it comes to handling triggers. You don't have to be a 10/10 social person to be helpful. He's just really observant and contrary to popular belief, isn't a complete evil dick head.

Y'all that's literally me next to him

"Aren't you black?" mind your business

Speaking of marriage, Kuai Liang meets you because you're a kid Harumi took in

I can see Harumi trying to introduce the two of you and you are NOT having a good time

He tries to introduce himself to you, but the second he steps close, you take off

He knows some kids are shy but this catches his attention. This ain't just shyness

"WHO THE FUCK FUCKED UP THIS HOUSE LIKE THIS? GOOD GOD!”

Harumi gives him the scoop thankfully

He's glad Harumi found you but damn, he wishes that never happened to you

He continues to try and be nice to you, but you either don’t say anything or take off

He isn’t really sure what to do at this point. Ya’ll are making no progress

This changes when one day he sees you sitting somewhere, scribbling in a book

You jump when you see him, dropping your book. He goes to grab it for you and that’s when he sees the amazing sketches inside

He’s not the type to flip through without permission. He looks at the open page and compliments that

“You like drawing?” *Nods* “These are really good!” *Shakes head* “Hey, I mean it. These are great”

He hands you your book back and you actually smile at him

*Hacker voice* I’m in-

You still stand behind Harumi, but you don’t look as scared of him as you did before

He notices you staring at him a lot, but he doesn’t say anything

Then one day you come up to him, book in hand

Which really surprises him because you never approach him

His mouth drops when you show him the drawings you’ve done of him

Your relationship continues to grow from this. He’s not sure how complimenting you on your artistic skills made you less afraid of him, but he’ll take it

He’s constantly encouraging you to keep being creative

He won’t look through your sketchbook without permission. He likes when you both look at your drawings together

Best believe he’s putting your drawings up like a proud father (if you let him)

I can see him learning basic sign language for you. Otherwise he speaks and you write things down

Ya’ll know that TikTok trend where two people paint portraits of each other? That but with Kuai Liang

His is awful but you put it up in your room anyway. This really squeezes at his heart

If you have other creative hobbies, such as writing, he encourages that too

Reads anything you’ll give him

I don’t think Kuai Liang is an artistic person in the sense that I don’t think he draws or writes in his spare time, but I think he still appreciates art

The father that stepped up

I don’t think he’d ask about your past much either. He doesn’t wanna push you. Whenever you’re ready to share, he’ll be there to listen

The little pieces you do share, he definitely remembers

Overall, I think Kuai Liang would handle the quiet and artistic aspect really well. He’s patient enough to continue trying to make an effort with you. Once you’ve opened up, he doesn’t take it for granted

My favorite white man

Pls make more gifs of him. Omg

I can see Tomas meeting you through a mission

It was supposed to be a simple “kill bad guys” mission but oh shit, there’s a child here

Now how he gets you outta there? Um… he beats your ass :D

Just a lil beating, then he takes you to Liu Kang in hopes that he can fix whatever is going on in your brain

Liu Kang is able to free your mind because god shit, but he says you gotta stay at the academy so he can keep an eye on you

Tomas should’ve been able to let you go, but for some reason he just couldn’t

He asks Liu Kang for updates on you, then eventually he just decides to visit in person

Now, considering Tomas is the one that saved you, and the academy isn’t a torture dungeon, I don’t think you’d be super alarmed when you see him

You just kinda stand there

He introduces himself, then tries to start small conversation and let you know that you’re safe now. You write you responses down on a notepad, which is odd but he’ll take it

“Do you have any family?” [No] “There’s gotta be someone out there missing you right now. You sure you can’t remember where they are?” [They’re dead. All of them]

Do I smell twinsies?!

Tomas knows the pain of losing loved ones and feels sad for you. He shares his story about how he lost his family. He doesn’t expect you to share what happened to yours, but he wants you to know that you’re not alone

This is where your bond starts. Maybe feeling safe in someone because of shared trauma is a bit wonky, but who cares?

He continues visiting you and chats with you. He tells you more about his family when you ask him to

Then comes the reveal

[I’m a bad person] “What? Why would you say that?” [I’ve killed people] “So have I” [I killed my family]

You write this long explanation, explaining that your first mission was to kill your immediate family

He’s shocked for sure, but he doesn’t blame you

He reminds you that you were just a child. Hell, you still are a child! You were also tortured and mind controlled. You didn’t want to do any of the stuff you were forced to do

[I miss them but I don’t think I’m allowed to] “Yes you are”

He couldn’t imagine carrying that much guilt around. Sure, he feels guilty about his family, but he didn’t kill them. He couldn’t imagine having memories of him killing the people he loves, and being forced to live with it

Tomas is very open with you about his own guilt and how he works to move on

It won’t be an easy journey, but he’s never giving up on you

Tomas becomes a friend, a mentor, an older brother (or father) all wrapped in one

When I tell you he’s never going to abandon you, I mean that shit. He’ll be by your side in everything and refuses to leave

He shares tips on grieving and guilt

Once you’re ready, he even takes you to your family’s gravesite

He lets you take all the time you need because he knows how badly you need this

Recovery is never an easy road. Tomas knows this from first hand experience. Doesn’t matter though because Tomas is always gonna be there to lift you up when you fall

Overall, Tomas would handle the guilt aspect the best. He has his own experience when it comes to losing family and guilt, so he’d understand how you feel

I feel like I keep giving Tomas the least amount of words, and that is not on purpose. I just be tired by the time I get to him😭. I still love you pookie

[lilybecca1]

What are your fav personal headcanons about BakuDeku? What are your favorite (canon) moments of BakuDeku? Also, do you have any fav ships (from any fandom) that the dynamics remind you of BKDK? Thanks if you want to answer....

Hi! Omg yes I actually do have one ship that reminds me a lot about bkdk now that I think about it. Haven't even realized the connection before but holy shit

And it's HiroZero from Darling in the Franxx

Cause hear me out guys (MAJOR spoilers). They start out as childhood friends, but then fade apart because of the seperation. One of them ends up totally forgetting about that one defining moment in their childhood (Hiro aka Deku) while the other completely hyperfixates on it to the point of pushing everyone away (Zero Two aka Bakugo). Hiro (Deku) is amazed and in awe about everything that Zero Two (Bakugo) is. Zero Two always tried to fight on her own, because she thinks no one else can keep up with her, and thinks that Hiro is just a fodder stuck by her side just like everyone else, but he proves himself that he is capable again and again, completely changing Zero Two's view of him, and turning her from a cold, distant person who doesn't care about anyone else, into a caring, sensitive person who warmed up towards making friends, and who is completely devoted to Hiro.

Throughout the entire anime, Ichigo(kinda parallel to Ochaco) tried to get Hiro to be less reckless and stop throwing himself into fights, but for Hiro, it's always "Zero Two and the others". No matter how hard Ichigo tries to make him settle back into the life that he had with them, in his eyes, he will always see Zero Two. For them, it's always only each other. The love that they have for each other goes much deeper than what anyone else can comprehend.

And the whole symbolism behind Hiro and Zero Two is the symbol of the doves with one wing. Alone, they cannot survive, but when they're together, they can soar higher than anyone else. Two doves that are incomplete without each other. Two sides of the same coin.

And the ending is what I loved the most. In the end, they become each other, they become the one and the same soul. Their feelings completely become one. They end up floating across space for years and years, time insignificant as long as they're together. Just like bkdk's "Even if we only have one lifetime, together we have an unlimited supply". Because it doesn't matter if they die, as long as they'll remain by the other's side even in the afterlife.

"I had nothing, but you gave me a sense of meaning". Just like how Hiro felt his life was meaningless until Zero Two came along. And these are both quotes from the song "Because you're my hero" aka the song about Izuku's feelings towards Katsuki.

"It was like I was put under a spell. Her two alluring horns, and my first ever look at a naked girl’s body, left me transfixed, unable to take my eyes off of her." The same as how Izuku couldn't take his eyes off of Bakugo, because he was transfixed by his amazingness.

"When we first met, I couldn’t take my eyes off you. You were confident, held your head high, and I found that beautiful." I honestly wouldn't be able to decide if this came from Izuku or Hiro. Izuku always found Bakugo's confidence, the way he always held his head high something that he couldn't take his eyes off of. And he found it beautiful too. You can see it in his eyes, even if he never said it with the same words.

"You and I; alone and lonesome. With the wings that I tore apart with my own hands, it will never be possible again to fly away. The days that I could spend as your wing, the sky that I dreamed we could take to some day. It has all started fading away, far, far away." Which for Bakugo means, "the dream of flying together, of being heroes together that I tore apart with my own hands at the river, it has all started fading far, far away because of what I did"

"If Zero Two can’t smile for me, than I might as well be dead." It's similar to how Deku feels, like when he said he can't imagine a world without Kacchan in it.

"Liar. If that were true, then why is your last page left blank? Don’t fly off on your own. Please, Zero Two, let me stay with you. Together...let’s rewrite that story."" Bakugo knew he would die too when he sacrificed himself, yet he did it anyway, for Izuku, even if deep down all he wanted was to compete with him for the rest of his life. "Nevertheless, my heart is crying with your pain. Can I at least be by your side, even if we cannot understand each other""Together we steal the future and imagine it" quotes from some of the ending songs.

"The distant skies. Beyond time and distance. An overwhelmingly long journey just for the two of us. You're a part of me. I'm a part of you. I'll remember your warmth, along with the memories we've made together. I'll never let you go again!" Never let you go again, just like bkdk's version of I'll never let your hand go ever again. "Won't let that hand slip away anymore. Forever and ever ahead, the two of us together" also a quote from one of the songs.

"I’m always alone, too. Thanks to these horns." And Bakugo used to always be alone because of his anger, which made him seem like a monster.

"Maybe we can't win alone, but the two of us together can!" Just like Bakudeku ✨

Bakudeku IS literally HiroZero, because the love and connection they have is the same, even if their story isn't. Two doves who are meaningless without each other, but they give meaning to eachothers' lives and fly forever together, for the rest of their lives.

All the parallels are FREAKING INSANE

Like them meeting under a cherry blossom tree in their second life

And becoming TWO STARS IN THE SKY, TWIRLING AROUND EACH OTHER LIKE TWIN STARS?

if they were orange and green it would be undeniable

And also the hand holding symbolism between them too, and how first it was Hiro that held out his hand to Zero Two and "saved" her, then in the end, Zero Two held out her hand to him, just like Bakugo in the manga.

Like seriously, the only thing different in their story is that they actually kissed.

And now I actually remember how beautiful I found their story when I watched Darling in the Franxx and I can say the same about Bakudeku. Their story and their connection is just as beautiful too, and it goes way beyond mere human emotions. They are one and they mean more to each other than anything else.

HiroZero is the canon version of BakuDeku

Okay this already turned out pretty long but I'll answer the rest of the questions anyway:

My personal fave headcanons:

Deku being able to tolerate spicy food even better than Bakugo is one of them 😂 like he literally has no pain receptors in his body. He broke his bones over and over again during the tournament and even used his MOUTH. Like you can't tell me he can't tolerate spicy food cause I bet my ahh that he wouldn't even FEEL that

2. My second one is Bakugo being the housewife 😂 like y'all he can cook, he's a clean freak, he orders everyone else around, he'd be so housewife material in the relationship

3. Bakugo always making physical contact with Deku in some way. Like whether it's just a playful shove, or putting his elbow on him, that guy cannot keep his hands off of Deku for even a second

4. Both of them having nightmares and panic attacks after the war about losing each other, and only being comforted by feeling the other's presence

5. Bakugo visiting Izuku every single day at school and sneaking into his classes while the students stare at him like wtf you doing here. Then after a while they're just like Deku-sensei your husband is staring in from outside the window again

6. Katsuki getting jealous over small things even though they're not even dating. Like you went out to eat with Shoto instead of me???! How dare you, this is the worst betrayal of my life

7. Even when they're adults, they know by heart the All Might theme choreography dance they learned when they were kids and Deku always makes Bakugo join him to dance it with him at parties

8. Izuku: How can anyone hate the rain?

Bakugo: Oh God they're tryna drown me in this ho

9. They're crossing the street, car honks:

Bakugo: F*CK YOU D*CKWAD

Midoriya, bowing 20 times: I'm so sorry please forgive his behaviour

10. They don't hang out like their other friends, when they hang out they are just simply quietly doing their own thing, being in the same space but in a comfortable silence, not feeling forced to make conversation. They just quietly enjoy each other's company while they do their own thing

11. Bakugo: is protective and gets easily jealous and makes a big show of it

Deku: is possessive but doesn't get easily jealous (idk if that makes sense lol)

12. Bakugo: gets offended easily and dramatically pouts for some time after but he calms down quickly

Deku: doesn't get hurt or angry easily but once he does actually get into an argument, he avoids Bakugo for days

And favorite canon moments though would probably be:

DvK2, basically the whole fight

Bakugo running to Deku in the hospital

Every single time Deku loses control cause of Bakugo getting hurt

The entire second movie

Deku punching Bakugo (that was kinda satisfying)

River scene (literally the most defining moment)

Swan dive scene (it's literally the base of all the angst that ever existed in every fic, and I love angst so)

Bakugo's apology (not just because of Bakugo apologizing, but Izuku's reaction too. This is one of the biggest scenes where we see just how much he actually means to Izuku)

The entire snowy mountain camping chapter in the novels (it was literally THE turning point in Bakugo's feelings and it wasn't even animated bruh)

Okay if I write any more than that I'll probably end up listing every single bkdk moment in the entire manga so that's enough probably 😂

[sillysybilsden]

To Janus. To Jupiter. To the Roman gods.

🪔

𝐓𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬

I. Introduction

II. Gods

III. Mythology

IV. Calendar

V. Ritual

VI. Epilogue

VII. Resources

🪔

𝐈. 𝐈𝐧𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐝𝐮𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧

Hey there everyone! This is Sybil (fka Clever Crow). As a Roman polytheist, “Roman polytheism is just a carbon-copy of Greek polytheism” is something I hear on a weekly basis. Whether on YouTube, TikTok, Pinterest or, heck, even academic resources, there seems to be a widespread belief that these two religions are identical. Today, I want to focus on this piece of misinformation and try to debunk it by using historical evidence and examples.

Just a small disclaimer: I will be discussing this topic from a hard polytheistic and revivalist point of view. Soft polytheism is absolutely valid, but in this case it might not be of use when highlighting differences between gods.

Also, I want to thank the following people: Cristina, Mystix, @spiritual-entries and @camssecretcave . They made sure that all information provided here is factual and reliable, and I will be forever grateful to them for their help.

🪔

𝐈𝐈. 𝐆𝐨𝐝𝐬

“Are the Greek and Roman pantheons one and the same?” This is the first question we will attempt at answering within this chapter. To do so, we must introduce a very important concept in Roman religion: interpretatio romana. Before that, though, let me provide you with some historical context.

Ever since the founding of Rome in 753 BCE, Romans were exposed to influences from other Italic peoples: Sabines, Etruscans, Volsci and so on. Because of that, we can indeed say that there has never been a 100% “native” Roman religion.

We can nonetheless differentiate two “phases” of Roman polytheism: pre-hellenisation polytheism and post-hellenisation polytheism (“hellenisation” being the process that merged Greek and Roman cultures and religions during the 1st century BCE and the 1st century CE). For simplicity’s sake, in this post we are going to compare the pre-hellenisation version of Roman religion and Hellenism.

Back to interpretatio: what is it? To put it simply, it is the comparison of two different pantheons (which is used to find matches between the gods). It was used so that, when describing other populations’ religions, one could just name a more familiar, local deity instead of fully describing a foreign one (which, obviously, would take much more time). Just imagine being a Roman historian and having to discuss Greek religion: instead of saying “Ares is a god of war, battle and courage”, you could just say “Ares is like our Mars”.

Does that mean that these gods were seen as identical? Absolutely not! Actually, this shows us that Roman gods were a thing long before Greek gods started being adopted in the pantheon (which is the reason why a god like Janus does not have a Greek counterpart).

Sticking with the same example we have used before, we can say that Mars was already Mars before he was equated to Ares. And, because of that, at a closer look, the two are extremely different: while Ares is blood-driven, Mars shows a much calmer nature; contrarily to Ares, Mars has some pretty important ties to royalty (his son being Romulus-Quirinus) and agriculture; while Ares has a relationship with Aphrodite, Mars is married to Nerio; and so on. It is only after hellenisation that these two (as well as all of the other gods) started merging into one single Greco-Roman figure.

As I said before, though, this does not mean that Rome was against syncretism. Quite the contrary, actually: whenever Romans ran into a deity who could be of use to them and did not have a counterpart in their pantheon, they would consider adopting them. This is the reason why Apollo was worshiped by both societies (Romans adopted him in 431 BCE in order to fight a pestilence; his Greek nature never went unacknowledged: for him, ritus graecus was performed).

Fun fact: interpretatio was not only directed to Greece. Roman priests tried to include the prophet Jesus Christ into the Roman pantheon. He was described to them as “a god of love”, so they used interpretatio to connect him to Venus.

🪔

𝐈𝐈𝐈. 𝐌𝐲𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐲

As I said before, during hellenisation Greek and Roman gods started merging. As a consequence, so did their mythologies…

Actually, no, scratch that: except for a few exceptions, Roman gods did not have a mythology to begin with. Mythology that is Roman in origin revolves around men, not deities (and that is the reason why it is also referred to as “mythic history”, as the protagonists are pseudo-historical figures). Myths in Ancient Rome were used as exempla, examples to teach teens and men how they should behave in a virtuous way.

For example, one of the most famous figures from Roman mythology is Lucius Junius Brutus, the founder of the Republic: he was intelligent (he tricked the cruel king Lucius Tarquinius Superbus into sparing his life), loyal (he never deserted the Romans) and strong-willed (he took the matters into his own hands and kicked out of Rome the cruel king), and every Roman had to aspire to be like him.

In Greece, on the other hand, myths had the task of explaining why something happens. Why do we have a colder season and a warmer one? That is because Persephone comes back from and goes to the Underworld. How do we know how to use fire? Prometheus gave it to men. How did the hyacinth, the flower, get its name? It comes from Apollo’s lover Hyacinth. On top of that, Greek mythology revolves a lot more around deities than the Roman one (which is the reason why there is a pretty intricate divine family tree in Hellenism).

With this in mind, we can say that, with hellenisation, the Roman gods received myths and genealogies (as well as iconographies, in some cases) of their own for the first time ever. However, these myths and these genealogies were not altered to better fit the deity.

This is the reason why Nerio, Mars’ original wife, was forgotten in favor of Venus (Aphrodite’s Roman counterpart). This is why Saturn, an extremely benevolent agricultural deity, started being depicted as a cruel entity devouring his children (yes: I am looking at you, Goya). And this is also why Minerva, who used to have nothing to do with Medusa, started to be seen as she-who-cursed-Medusa (now I am looking at you, Ovid).

🪔

𝐈𝐕. 𝐂𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐚𝐫

Calendars were of extreme importance in polytheistic societies. After all, they were deeply intertwined with their religious mentality… which is the reason why we are briefly going to discuss this matter in this blog.

When it comes to Ancient Greece, the calendar we have the most evidence on is the Athenian one (which, because of this, has become the most widely used in modern Hellenic polytheistic communities). It is lunisolar (keep this in mind!). When it comes to Ancient Rome, on the other hand, we have quite some evidence on three different calendars that modern Roman polytheists can choose from: a lunar one, a lunisolar one and a solar one (the latter happens to be the calendar still in use today).

One similarity that needs to be addressed is the one between Noumenia and Kalends (both being a celebration of the first day of the month). In the Roman version, however, we would also have to add Nones and Ides as recurring monthly festivities.

Another similarity that many seem to highlight is the one between Kronia and Saturnalia, two festivities where abundance is celebrated (as well as, respectively, Kronos and Saturn, who later merged) and the Golden Age is remembered. However! Kronia is celebrated during the Summer, roughly during the Summer solstice; Saturnalia is celebrated during Wintertime, roughly during the Winter solstice. It might not seem like a big difference at first, but it is if we consider this: during Kronia, the harvest is celebrated while it is happening, while the mature crops are being collected; during Saturnalia, the harvest that has already happened during the past Summer is celebrated, as well as the one that is to come.

Last but not least, let us highlight a Roman-only peculiarity. Back in Ancient Roman times, every day had a “quality": they could either be faustus or nefastus (as well as a lot more nuances which we will not be taking into account here). They were of great importance on a religious level, as nefastus days could bring bad luck to a practitioner if they were to take big decisions. Something similar also happened with dies religiosi, during which it was forbidden to go to work (or do anything that was not a life-or-death matter).

🪔

𝐕. 𝐑𝐢𝐭𝐮𝐚𝐥

Now that we have discussed the more “theological” matters, such as the nature of the gods, myths and festivities, we can briefly talk about the more practical side of things.

Let us start with an all-time favorite: veiling. Nowadays, a lot of pagans (no matter their path or their gender) veil for a variety of reasons: protection, modesty or devotion. And that is, no doubt, valid. Historically speaking, though, things kind of different. While both in Ancient Greece and Ancient Rome veils were used by women in order to express their modesty, in Italy they were also mandatory whenever performing rituals (for women and men alike).

Another big difference resides in the views of these two societies over divination. When we think of “divination” and “Ancient Greece”, one of the first things that comes to our minds is probably the Oracle of Delphi (and rightly so!). This figure was said to be able to channel the messages of the gods, and they did so by going into a trance-like state.

In Rome, this practice was seen as unreliable (even though, surprisingly, there are a couple of instances where Romans have asked the Oracle for guidance), as the only reliable forms of divination were those that could be performed when completely conscious (augury, haruspicy, etc). Dreams, too, were seen as an untrustworthy form of communication by Romans.

🪔

𝐕𝐈. 𝐄𝐩𝐢𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐮𝐞

There is something we still need to address: if these two cultures, societies, religions were so different, why do so many people believe otherwise?

Well, the answer can be found in 19th century’s anthropological and religious studies. Back then, scholars used to be very fond of the comparative approach (which is a “strategy where characteristics or parts are compared across different research situations to identify differences or similarities”, according to www.sciencedirect.com) and the Indo-European theory.

Too focused on stressing the similarities between Greeks and Romans, intellectuals “forgot” to highlight the differences. Even though nowadays, academically, these hypotheses have been marked as outdated, they are still ever-so widespread.

I hope that this blog will contribute to debunking this piece of misinformation. And I hope that I managed to introduce you, reader, to Roman polytheism… Not just a carbon-copy of Hellenism!

Sybil

🪔

𝐕𝐈𝐈. 𝐑𝐞𝐬𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐜𝐞𝐬

The majority of my knowledge on Greek religion comes from “Archeologia greca” by Enzo Lippolis and Giorgio Rocco and theoi.com, as well as some high school classes dedicated to Hellenic mythology.

The following resources talk specifically about this post's subject:

Roman vs. Greek religion (YouTube)

Greek mythology: A second masterpost (Tumblr)

You can check out my full list of resources on Roman polytheism here.

🪔 Check out this post on Amino as well! 🪔

[compressedrage]

I now present: Chapter 2 of Day One!

I think that might be the fastest I've ever finished a thing? Idk, but I'm pretty proud of myself

They flew for hours. And it was awesome. 

They raced each other in straight lines for miles, before circling back to play-fight in the sky over the bay. They plunged into the water dozens of times, and each time Chosen had to remind himself that he still had to breathe– he could have stayed under there, in the peaceful darkness, forever. 

They flew until their fire sputtered, and then they crashed on a cliff overlooking the water right as the sun went down. 

Chosen could only stare. Or, stare as well as he could considering how bright the sun was. How unfair. 

The sky was painted pink and orange and purple, streaks of clouds overhead casting strange shadows. It was beautiful. 

Chosen looked at his companion. Dark had also been in awe at the sunset, but after a little while had started to absently pull up grass from the ground– flowers too– and burn them in his hands. 

Chosen whacked him lightly on the arm. “Hey.”

Dark startled. The ash blew away in the wind, and he winced. “Whoops. Sorry.” 

It was… quiet. But not silent. The wind rustled the grass and the leaves on the trees, the waves below them crashed against the rocks. 

Quiet, but not silent. Peaceful. 

On the PC it had been so quiet. The virus chest was a void; nothing to see, hear, or touch. Only him. Even when he was allowed out on the desktop there wasn’t much sound. Only the clicks and scrolls of the cursor, the occasional pop-up that he’d have to burn away. 

This was nice. 

The sky had turned blue-black. Up against it was a grid layer of what must have been IP addresses, glowing softly. But among them, glowing just a bit brighter, was a blanket of stars. 

Chosen felt himself smile, and when he looked at Dark he saw that Dark’s eyes had widened, drinking it all in.

When he spoke it was quiet. “What are they?” 

“The glowy dots?” 

“…yeah.” 

Chosen grinned. “Stars.”

“Stars,” Dark repeated. “They’re beautiful.” 

Chosen laid down on his back. The grass had cooled. “Do you know what constellations are?” 

Dark laid down beside him. “No?”

Chosen held up his hands, trying to outline his explanation in the air. “It’s like if you took a group of stars, and used them as points to draw a picture.” He waved a hand over their heads. “I don’t know any of the ones here…”

Dark hummed. After a moment of silence, he spoke again. Even quieter. 

“Thanks.” 

Chosen turned his head. Dark was decidedly not looking at him, instead fixing his gaze on the stars overhead. “For…?”

Dark sighed softly. “For getting me out. Of there.” He gestured up to the IP grid. 

A million responses ran through Chosen’s head. 

You’re welcome.

Of course. 

Thank you for coming with me. 

But none of them felt right. So he simply reached over and gently took Dark’s hand in his. The same hand Dark had reached back to him with. They were both free. 

Dark startled, before relaxing. He squeezed Chosen’s hand. Thank you.

Chosen decided right then and there that Noogai was never going to touch either them ever again. He’d make sure. 

They laid there together, under the blanket of stars, until they both fell asleep. 

[bibioi]

Teach me!

[sakamoto days], taro sakamoto.

— i love aoi, but i love a man whose never felt a woman's touch before even more ♡

contains: nsfw + gender neutral + 2nd pov + dry humping.

no exact dom/sub nor top/bottom roles mentioned but (reader) does take a more leading role! 🦭 first post!! (i'll be like an absent father to my baby account)

Teach me? There's a slight twitch in his fingers as he tilts his head curiously.

An air of innocence fills the room as you softly smile at him - a soft blush filling his ears at that. He's very much aware of what you're suggesting, he's thought of it a few times (here and there, a lot of times).

You glance away from his eyes to reach for his hand. His palm heats up and he feels clammy all over.

"Do you want me to teach you?" You gently repeat your previous question.

What should he do in this situation? He can barely handle kissing you without exploding, how will he react to touching you!?

He wants to do it and so, he nods (very robotically might i add).

You stare back at him expectantly. Your fingers softly caress hand, both comforting him and sending him into a frenzy.

Right. He remembers. Words.

"I want to..." taro swallows thickly, "make you feel g-good..."

A teasing glint appears in your eyes, "you do?"

His breath hitches when you step closer to him, your eyes glancing to his lips. "Mhm."

His eyes flicker to the bed just a couple feet away. Worries eat him alive. What if he isn't good? And if he gets carried away? Will you like it or hate it? Should he have picked a more romantic setting for your honeymoon?

The wind howls knocking against the trembling windows as the hands holding his tighten their grip upon reading him.

"How about we take it slow, hm?" He gives another robotic nod. "We can both feel good."

Both of us?

...

Ah! Taro gasps at the new feelings.

He stares at you as if you were the sun, the stars and the moon. With hearts in his eyes, he struggles to see you through the blur of his tears but he fights through it.

It feels good. Feels so very good.

No one has ever touched him like this, made him feel this way. He's melts when you press your lips to his, pushing your tongue to meet his. You kiss him like it's the end of the world!

He loves it. He lives for it.

Taro tentatively raises his hips to meet yours, the stain (and strain) in his pants grow as a moan leaves your lips at the contact.

He grips onto the sheets for dear life. His entire body felt too, too, too hot. Is he going to pass out?

Help me God. He pants heavily into your lips, struggling to get out a single word.

No, not a god.

Only you can help him now.

"You're doing such a good job, taro." A whimper left his lips at the praise. He pulls away to press wet kisses under your jaw, sucking tenderly.

"Do-do you — hah! feel good..."

"So good!" You whine next to his ear. You hug his body closer, practically leaving no space in between the two of you.

He shivers and squirms as your hands yank at his white locks.

Taro bites his quivering lip, swallowing all his precious noises to hear you better. The panting, gasps, grunts, whimpers.

He's making you feel good.

The bed creaks under the weight of both of you as you order him to go faster. The thought of hurting you scares him, but the overwhelming feeling to please you wins, so, he obeys with a shaky nod.

He buries his head in the crook of your neck. He's making you feel good!!

A cry of pleasure is strangled out of his mouth when your hands pull at his hair, forcing him to face you. He catches your eyes through his tears and flushes a deep, dark red.

"Focus on me, okay?" He nods clumsily, never one to deny your requests.

How adorable ♡

...

[vinnsley]

Hi there!! You cool with a daughter of Iris reader x Leo Valdez where Leo is stressed out about a project so y/n cheers Leo up by turning his project different colors and stuff? Thanks, have a great day!! Here, have a song rec too: Copacabana by Barry Manilow(English version)

Haven't written for pjo before... hoping i'll get leos character right💀🙏

TW/Info: none except FEM [Y/N], short drabble, fluff, max colors and set clothing ig😹

[--------------]

You've been a camper at Camp Half-Blood for awhile now, being a daughter of Iris, fighting wasn't really your strong suite, but you weren't weak either. You could keep yourself alive out there alone for a bit. Atleast.

And it has been a few days since you've seen your boyfriend, Leo, at all recently. You thought he might be at a quest or something, but after seeing Piper still at camp, you made the proud deduction that no quest has started without your knowledge.

So you decided that you'll raid the Hephaestus Cabin when you have the chance tomorrow... you were already laying in your bunk inside your cabin with your siblings already dead asleep, or reading a book to pass the time while they couldn't sleep.

Soon enough, tomorrow rolled around, being woken up by one of your cabinmates for the morning far earlier than normal, just as you requested.

You thought that if you woke up earlier then you might be able to catch Leo going to the workshop or what he called it as... honestly, you had a hard time deciphering what he was saying when he was more excited than a young kid on christmas day seeing their presents under the tree.

You quickly got dressed — Your bright orange camp shirt (Which in all honesty, you hated the color.), your dark blue jeans with your converse — And your short rainbow scarf you usually wore in your hair before putting your hair in a pony tail.

You quickly rush out of your cabin, not even thinking about closing the door as you run trough the camp, to Leo's workshop.

Not long after you find the entrance, it being wide open and you hear some type of... mechanical noises from the inside?

You went closer, peeking inside and spotting your objective — Leo's body peeking out from the inside of Festus as the dragon was resting while he worked.

You walked inside, walking closer as Festus opened it's eyes, now staring at you approaching. Leo not even taking notice of you at all.

"So this is where you've been all this time?" Your voice spoke as Leo almost immedieatly hit his head in Festus' body, before raising his head out of the mechanical dragon with wide eyes as he stared at you.

"Mi amor! I-I didn't expect to see you today!" He said, chuckling nervously as he scratched the back of his neck.

You raised an eyebrow. "I haven't seen you in days, Leo. It made me worry slightly." You responded, before walking closer towards Festus' leg, placing your hands on your hip.

Leo chuckled again. "Sorry. My bad. Was kinda too focused on fixing a part inside Festus." He grunted. "I just can't get it right." He grumbled under his breath and chucked his head back into Festus' back.

"Y'know... a break sounds way better than this."

"What do you mean a break? I need to finish this!

"What you need is a break!" You shot back, scoffing as you leaned your shoulder against Festus as you stared at Leo's lower body poking out from Festus.

But absent-mindedly, as you adjusted your position, you reached your hand and put it on Festus, and suddenly, instead of the goldish yellow color... he became bright rainbow colored.

Leo froze as he saw the change (from the inside? You guessed.) as he quickly wiggled himself out and stood on-top of Festus.

"Woah." He said as he looked across Festus' new look. "You could do that?"

You glanced at Festus' torso and Leo awkwardly. "Uh. I guess. I can change object's colors. Could do this since... forever. Y'know." You shrugged like it wasn't a big deal.

"Since forever? Dude! You never told me!" He said. "You should've told me! My inventions could've been way cooler with a touch of color instead of—" He said before he cut himself off as you raised an eyebrow in response.

"Y'know... Mi Amor... Some of my inventions do need a new paintjob..." He smirked as he slid down from Festus' back, walking over to you and wrapping his arms around your waist. "Please?" He said with a charming smile.

You raised an eyebrow. "This whole charming thing isn't really working when you smell like oil and like you haven't showered in weeks." You point out.

"Well, excuse you, but i am taking showers. Quite frequently to get rid of the smell." He stated with a pout.

You chuckled as you smirked. "I know, i know. I'll also try to color in your inventions, doofus." You respond.

He grinned happily at that, immedieatly pulling you towards the desk that was situated in the room, with a bunch of materials and tools, Leo rummaging around at the mess and gather them on the middle of the desk.

Awhile later, many gadgets, tools even material at this point was different colors than usual. Even Festus was now pink and blue with some white here and there. Both of you were now on the back of Festus, Leo peeking his head out of the poptart look-alike.

"Finally fixed the issue." He said with a soft smile on his face. He seemed more at ease than you ever did before, in all honesty. This whome color-adventure winded him down slightly, but he was happy, it showed. "You really should've told me you can do this... i would've loved to have you here to color my projects." He said, staring at you softly before leaning down and kissing your forehead.

[--------------]

tried my best w this one💔

small extra;

"Yeah, yeah. This may be all fun and games... but i'm pretty winded, Leo." You said.

"So? What's the problem with being tired?" He asked, looking at you as he put another project you colored away.

"I probably can't color everything back..." You revealed.

Leo's eyes went wide, before the two of you looked at Festus. The dragon only snorted out smoke from it's nostrils...in annoyance if you guessed.

"So Festus is staying as a fake poptart?" Questioned Leo.

"...Guess so. You might have to get used to this new version of Festus." You said. "Might take awhile before i could color him back..." You giggled.

[y-rhywbeth2]

Incidentally, if you've ever wanted your Durge to fight like Bhaal for some reason - or would like to have Bhaal hunt them down in person if they resisted him - Bhaal's usual in-person tactics are wandering the area in stealth assassinating a bunch of guards (usually sowing panic, sometimes allowing them to scream leaving the bodies on display or even giving them a slow death so their comrades can watch them die) and then entering open combat with what little is left and then just really casually killing them all.

Knives is good, but killing people with your bare hands is best. Never be ashamed to just fucking punch people.

Bhaal also flat out doesn't care about healing, as you may have seen in the feral ending, and will keep fighting until the physical body collapses. Also gets more aggressive when an opponent manages to land a hit: he kills you, not the other way around.

Furthermore: be unkillable. Just fucking refuse to die no matter how many killing blows your opponents give you until they're literally yelling 'why won't you die??' at you. So ultimately all hitting Bhaal back does is make him murder you harder.

For textual illustrations, I collected some sections of Bhaal's fight/assassin scenes because I could. Also Cyric and his beloved pony:

"There's something beyond the outer curtain," he said, trying to gain Cyric's interest. He removed his scabbard and placed it upon the dusty banquet table. "Or so the watch says." Cyric had little concern for what lurked outside the walls to frighten his men. He decided to change the subject and asked, "How is my pony? That fellow carried me well, considering how hard I rode." "With rest it'll recover - provided someone doesn't kill it first," Dalzhel said, returning to the fireplace. "There are those who grumble that it has eaten better than the men." "It's proven more use!" Cyric snapped. The pony had carried him nearly one hundred and fifty miles over the last three days. A war-horse could not have done better. He considered threatening death to anyone who touched the pony, but rejected the idea. The order would breed resentment, and someone might take up the challenge.

You hear that, Cyric. 'Someone.'

I like to imagine Mask is laughing her head off in this scene, considering she's almost definitely aware of Bhaal lurking in the shadows spying for Myrkul and murdering two guys and listening to this conversation, and she knows exactly what he's going to do having heard that.

Sometimes Bhaal doesn't even kill them. Immediately.

Two of the men were pointedly looking away from the well. Since it still provided water, it was the one item the castle's periodic inhabitants kept in good repair. A moan, low-pitched and feral, issued from the well's depths. Tied to the blood-smeared crossbar was a gray cord that descended into the dark pit. Dalzhel stepped forward and grabbed the cord. Without speaking, he began to pull. An anguished scream rang out deep down the well. Dalzhel allowed the cry tocontinue for several seconds before dropping the cord. "What was that?" Cyric asked, peering into the black depths. "Edan, we think," Dalzhel reported. "He's still alive," Fane added informatively. "Every time we try to pull him up, he screams." Though he had seen many slow deaths, and had caused one or two himself, Cyric's stomach turned as he tried to imagine what had happened at the other end of the rope.

Cyric peered inside. Alrik faced the corner, kneeling in a pool of his own blood. He held his hands cupped in front of his stomach. A barbed, wooden tip protruded from his lower back, suggesting that a stake had been driven through his body. Because of the barbs, the stake could not be removed without dragging Alrik's intestines out with it.

"No!" A high screech followed. It did not fade, even after the man's throat should have gone hoarse. Cyric turned toward the gatehouse, unsure of what he would find. Few humans were capable of the efficient brutality with which Alrik and Edan had been tortured. Still, the thief moved at his best pace. If he appeared frightened of the murderer, his men would no longer be afraid of him - and that was an invitation for mutiny - Dalzhel and Fane followed close behind. By the time they reached the gatehouse, the scream was no longer audible. A dozen men had gathered in the stairwell, standing in a line running up to the second floor. Their torches cast a flickering yellow light on the walls. The men did not even notice Cyric when he arrived, so Fane bellowed, "Out of the way! Stand aside!" When the onlookers made no move to obey, Fane muscled a path up the stairway. Cyric and Dalzhel followed, eventually reaching a doorway. Five men stood inside, staring at a crumpled form in the center of the room. A dark pool was spreading about their feet, and the barest whisper of a croak came from the shape on the floor.

-

Cyric and his lieutenant were thinking along the same lines. During his life, Cyric had known many evil men. Not one was capable of what he had seen tonight. "Have the men gather in groups of six," the thief ordered. "One group in the great hall-" A terrified whinny sounded from outside, interrupting the instructions. "The stable," Dalzhel observed. The men mumbled, but stood still and waited for their orders. Again, the pony whinnied, this time sending chills down Cyric's spine. "We'd better have a look," he said, cringing at the thought of what they would find. The men on the stairs reluctantly started to ward the stable, Cyric and Dalzhel close behind. By the time the hawk-nosed man reached the ground floor, the pony was quiet. As Cyric stepped into the courtyard, a ghostly wail whistled through the castle. Outside the stable, ten men stood with their swords drawn, peering inside and clearly reluctant to enter. Cyric slopped his way across the ward and pushed them aside. Grabbing a torch, he entered the stable, his sword arm aching with the desire to lash out at something. The pony lay dead in its stall, a withered and puckered hole over its heart. The lips of its muzzle were twisted back in horror, and one eye stared directly at Cyric. Dalzhel approached and stood next to his commander. For a moment, he observed in silence, wondering whether or not Cyric was mourning the beast's death. Then he noticed something on the beam over the stall. "Look!" A circle of drops had been drawn in blood. Cyric had little trouble recognizing the Circle of Tears.

This is exactly how I play BG3 from the perspective of areas full of not-yet-hostile enemies:

"Milord, Captain Beresford bids me inform you that two guards are absent from the outer curtain." Deverell frowned then asked, "Is it still raining?" The page nodded. "Aye. The drops are as red as blood and as cold as ice." The boy could not keep his fear from showing itself in his voice. Deverell stopped whispering. "Then tell Beresford to worry no more, and we'll discipline the derelicts come morning. I've no doubt the guards are hiding from the strange weather." [...] The page entered again and approached Lord Deverell. In the room's silence, it was impossible not to hear his whisper. "Milord, Captain Beresford orders me report the absence of three sentries from the inner curtain." "The inner curtain?" Deverell exclaimed. "There, too?"

-

The halfling had no idea what it was that the guards were fighting, but he knew that it had torn through them with frightening speed. [...] The guards knew little more about their opponent than Sneakabout. Orrel had seen something crawl down a dark corner of the inner wall. A moment later, a timid-looking man had stepped out of the shadows and walked nonchalantly to the keep's entrance. Orrel and another guard had stepped out of the foyer to challenge him. He had knocked their halberds aside, then slipped a dagger out of his sleeve and killed them both with a single, long slash. A third guard had yelled an alarm, which had also proven fatal. The stranger had thrown a dagger through the guard's throat, silencing him in midscream. Fitch, the sergeant, had ordered the survivors to retreat inside. He felt foolish for running from a lone attacker, but the smooth efficiency with which the man killed left no doubt that he was no ordinary assassin. Because their assignment was to protect the keep tower, Fitch thought it wisest to retreat and bar the door, then send a man to call for help. His strategy didn't work. The doors were thick and heavy, designed for strength instead of manoeuvrability. As the sergeant and a guard pushed them into place, the stranger stepped out of the foyer. The guard died an instant later, the attacker's fingers wrapped around his larynx. Brandishing his sword, Sergeant Fitch yelled his last order to the men on the stairs. "In Azoun's name, keep him downstairs!"

To Adon's left, the stairs descended in a gentle, clockwise spiral. Five feet down, another torch hung in a sconce, casting its dingy light upon the cold stone steps. Where the stairwell curved out of sight, the shadows of four Cormyrians were retreating up the stairs. Each silhouette held a polearm. Judging from the shadows, it appeared a single man was pursuing them. One of the Cormyrian silhouettes lunged. A flurry of activity followed then a weak chuckle rolled up the stairs. An instant later, a man screamed in agony. The other three guards retreated another step. Their chain-mailed backs were visible to Adon now, but the attacker remained unseen. Adon could not believe a single man pressed so fiercely, but the shadow appeared to be nothing more. [...] A clamor arose outside the tower as word spread that the keep was under attack. The tattoo-headed man turned to listen for an instant then calmly returned his gaze to the two guards in front of him. The stranger stepped forward, slapping their halberds aside as if the weapons were no more than sticks.

He also has stupidly high AC:

The remaining live soldier shifted to the other side of the landing, then raised his sword. The guard was deliberately giving the god an opening so Adon could attack. Heedless of the trap, Bhaal stepped forward, and Adon swung his mace at the avatar's head. The god easily ducked the blow. Before the Cormyrian could slash, however, the Lord of Murder punched him in the abdomen. The man barely retained his balance and stumbled back on the landing [...] The Cormyrian obliged with a vicious overhead slash. Bhaal sidestepped it easily, moving backward toward Midnight's chamber. The magic-user's door flew open. Midnight stood in the entrance to her room, dagger in hand. She had been watching the battle in silence, cursing the loss of her spellbook and waiting for an opportunity to strike. Finally, it had come. She thrust the blade into the avatar's back. Bhaal's eyes widened in surprise. He started to turn, and Adon seized the chance for an easy attack, smashing his mace into the avatar's ribs. The god's knees buckled and he tumbled down the stairs, roaring in a rage. The avatar came to rest six steps down, Midnight's dagger still planted in his back. "Is he dead?" Midnight asked. Bhaal rose and glared at the magic-user, cursing in a language no human could duplicate. Without paying any attention to his wounds, the Lord of Murder jumped for the landing. The Cormyrian yelled and leaped to meet the avatar, blade flashing. Bhaal met the guard in midair, blocking the soldier's swordarm with a bone-crunching blow and simultaneously driving his fingers into the man's throat. The avatar reached the landing with the guard's gasping body in his hands, then dropped the corpse down the stairs without a second thought.

Bhaal lifted a hand and felt the wound. His fingers came away bloody. Without so much as turning around, he kicked backward, catching the cleric in the ribs. Adon flew into his chamber, crashed into his bed, then crumpled to the floor gasping for breath and wondering how he would ever pick himself up.

If you don't have a knife at hand, stabbing them with your own broken wrist bone is fine:

Without warning, Bhaal stopped and spun on his pursuer, jabbing at Cyric with the sharp bone protruding from his severed wrist. The fallen god followed the jab with an open-handed strike from his other hand. [...] Cyric was at Bhaal's back. The thief attacked with a vicious slash he hoped would cleave the avatar down to the breast bone. But Bhaal heard him coming and, easily breaking free of Dalzhel's hold, pivoted out of the way. The God of Assassins caught Cyric's arm, then used the thief's own momentum to throw him ten feet into the brush. As Cyric sailed past, Dalzhel snatched his sword off the ground then plunged the blade into the avatar's rib cage. Bhaal snarled and kicked the Zhentish soldier in the stomach.Dalzhel fell backward and landed with a crash. The Lord of Murder casually plucked Dalzhel's sword from between his ribs and tossed it aside. Then he leaped onto his opponent's prone form, thrusting the splintered stump of his wrist into Dalzhel's throat. Dalzhel screamed once then fell quiet.

Just wholesale beating the living daylights out of an opponent is also good, and I think this might be one of Bhaal's favourite memories (and fyi Cyric did not win the fight between them. Mask did):

Cyric slashed. Bhaal easily dodged, slapping the thief's sword hand aside. Cyric kicked, hoping to keep his attacker away. The avatar blocked the foot, then stepped in close and clipped his opponent's jaw with a fist as hard as stone. Cyric's ears rang and his head swam. He tried to swing his sword, but Bhaal hit him once more. The thief felt his body going limp. The Lord of Murder struck his jaw again, then his stomach, then continued pummeling Cyric until he dropped his weapon and flopped to the ground in a half-conscious heap. While Bhaal battered Cyric, Adon and Kelemvor rushed toward Midnight.