#its about i will love you whether you want me to or not and even if it kills me and beyond the capacity of the narrative to encompass

[starrydali]

hii i got a request for a luke castellan fic🤭

so i thought of it the other day.. what if its during a capture the flag game but reader and luke get carried away with yk.. making out or smth and they get caught !

do what you want with it, i just thought it could be cute😊

Friends With Benefits - Luke Castellan

∘°∘♡∘° Stoppp I love this so much♡

✧˖*°࿐*✧.┊You and Luke have always been close friends, but lately, things have been a little… complicated. You're not quite dating, but you're not just friends either. Stolen kisses here and there, moments where the line between friendship and something more starts to blur. ✧. ┊

The moonlight filtered through the trees, casting dappled patterns on the forest floor. You were supposed to be patrolling—Luke was supposed to be patrolling—but instead, you were backed against the rough bark of a tree, his lips brushing against yours in a way that sent your thoughts spiraling into chaos.

“Luke,” you mumbled between kisses, though you made no effort to stop him. “We’re going to get caught.”

He pulled back slightly, his face so close that his breath warmed your skin. His smirk was maddeningly cocky, the kind that made you simultaneously want to shove him and kiss him again. “Relax,” he said, his voice low and full of amusement. “You worry too much.”

“You don’t worry enough,” you shot back, your hands resting awkwardly on his chest, unsure whether to push him away or pull him closer.

Luke just chuckled, leaning in again, his lips brushing against the corner of your mouth before moving to trail down your jaw. “It’s adorable how you think anyone’s paying attention to us right now.”

You were about to retort when—

“Luke Castellan.”

The sharp voice cut through the quiet of the woods like a blade. Your head snapped toward the source of the sound, and your stomach dropped. Annabeth.

She stood a few feet away, arms crossed and a look of utter disbelief etched on her face. For once, her calculating gaze wasn’t directed at some strategic move in Capture the Flag—it was pinned squarely on the two of you.

“Oh gods,” you muttered under your breath, stepping away from Luke so fast you nearly tripped over a root.

Luke, on the other hand, didn’t seem the least bit fazed. He leaned casually against the tree, his arms crossed over his chest, and gave Annabeth his most infuriating grin. “Hey, Annabeth,” he said, as if she’d just caught him skipping chores and not...well, this.

“‘Hey, Annabeth?’” she repeated, her voice rising slightly. Her eyes flicked between you and Luke, her expression a mix of shock, confusion, and something that looked suspiciously like secondhand embarrassment. “What the hell was that?”

You opened your mouth to explain—or maybe apologize—but no sound came out. Your face was burning so hot you were sure it could rival Apollo’s chariot.

“We were just...uh...” Luke began, his grin widening as he glanced at you.

“Don’t,” Annabeth interrupted, holding up a hand. “Don’t even try to explain.”

Luke shrugged, clearly enjoying himself. “Alright, if you insist.”

“Luke!” you hissed, swatting his arm.

“What?” he said, feigning innocence. “I’m not lying. She told me not to explain.”

Annabeth groaned, pinching the bridge of her nose. “I cannot believe this. You two are supposed to be best friends.”

“We are,” Luke said, the casual tone in his voice almost convincing.

“Best friends don’t...” Annabeth gestured vaguely between the two of you, clearly at a loss for words.

You wanted to sink into the ground and disappear forever. “This isn’t—it’s not—”

“Not what it looked like?” Annabeth supplied, raising an eyebrow.

You nodded furiously, though you weren’t entirely sure what you were agreeing to.

Luke, ever the opportunist, slung an arm around your shoulders, pulling you close enough that you could feel the heat radiating off him. “Come on, Annabeth,” he said, his tone light and teasing. “Can’t two best friends share a kiss now and then without it being a big deal?”

“No!” Annabeth snapped, her face incredulous. “No, they can’t!”

“Well,” Luke said, his smirk practically glowing in the dark, “guess we missed the memo.”

Annabeth threw her hands up in frustration. “You’re both unbelievable.” She turned on her heel and stalked back toward the creek, muttering something about idiocy and never being able to unsee things.

As soon as she was out of earshot, you turned to Luke, your jaw dropping. “What is wrong with you?”

“Nothing,” he said, his expression far too pleased with himself. “That went better than I expected.”

“Better?” you repeated, your voice a mix of disbelief and mortification. “She’s never going to let us live this down.”

“Probably not,” Luke agreed, his grin softening into something almost fond as he looked at you. “But hey, at least now you know what you're dealing with.”

“And what exactly am dealing with?” you asked, narrowing your eyes at him.

Luke’s gaze flicked briefly to your lips before meeting your eyes again. “A best friend who doesn’t play by the rules.”

You rolled your eyes, but the warmth in your chest betrayed you. “You’re insufferable.”

“And yet, here you are,” he teased, leaning in just enough that your noses brushed.

You shoved him lightly, though the smile tugging at your lips was impossible to hide. “Come on,” you said, grabbing his wrist and pulling him in the direction of the creek. “Let’s actually do our job before we get caught again.”

“Whatever you say, best friend,” he said, his laughter echoing through the trees as he followed you.

✧. ┊ Send requests! :)

[hyog-blog]

Fangs of Fortune & Polyamory

I don't think I've ever seen a drama explore polycules or, dare I say, polyamory in such an effortless and non-toxic manner. The show that came closest to this trope, I think, was the Wachowski's Sens8, but it was more about mind-sharing in various sometimes increasingly intimate ways, which is a different angle altogether.

It's incredible to see a show explore actual human (or demon) relationships and different kinds of love within a team of close people who can be considered as a found family. It also touches upon their other relationships and familial bonds in a lighthearted, but respectful tone that discovers and acknowledges those different types of love, and fondness, and affection. I loved it to the point that I actually found it to be a healing experience for me.

We put so many labels on people and our own different types of loves and affections (along with a society still devoured by numerous taboos about same-sex relationships or about having different types of relationships all at once simultaneously). But that's like… we're doing it anyway (if we allow ourselves some exploration). Some people are like soulmates but you do not necessarily have that physical spark with them. Others may be like that toxic magnet that brings out the primal desire, but you wouldn't be able to build a relationship with them even if your life depended on it. While others, still, are more like friends that sometimes turn into lovers (or vice versa). And it's a whole net of interconnectedness. And it's about love more than anything else (in its various forms).

And I love how the show doesn't even draw those lines, so we don't have very definitive couples as actual couples, we just see people sharing different kinds of bonds and sometimes doing romantic things together (and that equation changes all the time, whether it's M/M or F/F or F/M). And those bonds also differ - they can be deep and important, or painful, or loving and hopeful, or brotherly, and isn't that what human relationships are all about? They don't necessarily fit into some formulas of being 'one and only' or 'till death does us apart', and there can be many important people in our lives - each with a different flavor.

I might not have the mental and energetic capacity to support multiple relationships like that, but this show enlightened me at least to the possibility of those different types of loves that can co-exist with each other and not be mutually exclusive. The beauty of Fangs of Fortune is that they actually showed us how all that can work, setting that tight-knit little family of the Demon Hunting Bureau as an example. Of course, there's lots of drama, and doomed narratives, but this undertone has been evident throughout the whole series and it just made me all warm and fuzzy inside (and wanting to write fics not only about couple relationships, but throuple and, if possible, polycule as well :D).

[district4loading]

OMGGGG is there any way your could revive that fic 😭😭 somno fits sana so well and if were to turn this into a full request, can it be fem reader but can use strap hhdhehehehe thank uuuuu

Snooze (WLW)

Twice Sana!Sub x Female Reader!Dom

3K Words

Content Warning: smut, somno, praise, oral, fingering, strap, some fluff at the end

Minors DNI

A/N: Didn't plan on making this a full blown fic but anon asked so they recieved. Apologies that its so short. Enjoy!

Also i'm sorry but doesn't Sana look so pretty?

-

It's sick and twisted but for some reason, you like it.

-

"Sana, thats the weirdest thing I've ever heard you say" You look up from your phone to gauge whether or not the brunette was serious about what she just said.

Sure enough she had those expecting eyes fixated on you "It's not weird! It’s hot" She protests your comment, climbing into your arms like she usually did.

You were on the couch in your living room, scrolling on your phone when Sana came in and made a rather peculiar request. "You want me to fuck you while you're asleep?" She nods with a cute smile on her face and she hums in response "And you don't want me to tell you when I'll do it, or warn you before?"

Sana giggles softly when she sees the look of pure disbelief you give her "Listen you have nothing to be worried about, I want you to do it" She holds your hand in hers "and make sure i'm out cold, I literally want to wake up with your face between my legs"

"I don't know, what if you're not in the mood? Or-"

"Shh" Sana puts her finger over your lips then leans forward, removing them in the same instance to plant a small kiss on your lips "I assure you, I'll be in the mood"

-

So you agreed to it, fulfilling one of your girlfriend's wildest fantasies because you love her and you'll do whatever you can to make sure she's happy. Even if you think it’s a bit odd.

You waited a couple of days so it'll come as a complete shock to her. It's maybe one in the morning and you're more than sure that she's out cold but you think it wouldn't hurt to make sure. So you tap her arm a few times "Sana" you whisper. You take notice of her body and the way it rose, then fell with such gracefulness as she breathes in and out, the slow noise of it filling the silent room.

Then you shift a bit, getting on your knees so you can gently pull the covers off of her. She's wearing what she usually does to bed, a loose tank top and some shorts. You start to feel a bit of a rush as you watch her lay there, asleep with with no knowledge of what's to come.

Maybe it's not so weird after all

You touch her thigh, the soft warmth making you aware of how cold your own hands were and you start to worry that it'll wake her. It takes you a moment but you finally manage to get your hands on the waistband of her shorts. Your fingers loop under her panties too because there's no need for teasing. The only one you'd be teasing is yourself. So you begin to pull the pieces of clothing off, having a bit of a hard time because she's not awake to lift her hips.

Soon enough the garments slip down her legs and past her ankles and you toss them to the side. Your heart begins to race because the tension in the room is thick, like you're doing something you're not supposed to and if she were to wake up and catch you it'll all be over.

This fantasy of hers is something different, something you never thought you'd be into until now when you're faced with the opportunity—and you want nothing more than to touch her right now.

There's a bit of uncertainty in your movements, you reach for her legs and while you're opening them your hands are trembling. Your breathing quickens as you admire the sight of her perfect body before you, highlighted by the moonshine through the bedroom window.

You try your best to shrug off the nerves, then you position yourself between her legs. The moderate moistness isn't something you're used to at all. Usually, by the time you make it down there she's fucking dripping and soaked so bad that it's spread to her thighs.

However, you know it's nothing you can't fix. So you grab her thighs with your hands, refraining from squeezing them like you normally did so she doesn't wake up. Then you stuck your tongue out and flattened it against her cunt. You pause and look up. She's still asleep.

Ever so slightly, you drag your tongue up her slit, making a soft humming noise when the tangy taste attacks your tastebuds. Still no response. So you keep going as you normally would, swirling and flicking your tongue on her clit.

It only takes a few seconds for Sana to shift a bit. She tries to close her legs but you hold her a bit tighter so she doesn't. You pause for a moment, then you continue eating her out like you've been starving for her.

A soft hum escapes her lips and then her hips start squirming. You push your face deeper into her cunt, taking her clit into your mouth to suck. Then she gasps loudly, her head lifting weakly just enough so she can make eye contact with you. "Babe- what are you" Then you witness the exact moment the realization of what's going on hits her and it's priceless. "Oh fuck"

Her voice is rough and tired as she reaches her hands down to tangle your hair in between her fingers. You smile and remove your mouth then you climb over her so you're face to face. Your hand finds it's way to her sopping cunt and you rub slow circles before you connect your lips with hers.

Sana moans into the kiss, reciprocating it with some newfound strength, cause she has to reward you for doing so good. You prod her entrance with your fingers and you slide two digits inside. She breaks the kiss and moans out loud when you curl them "Pleasant surprise?" You question her with a smirk on your face as you pump in and out.

"Yeah" Sana nods frantically, all breathless with her words "I - fuck - I wasn't expecting it tonight" She moans again because you've found that spongy spot that makes her walls squeeze you tighter.

You leave a shorter kiss on her lips again "That was the point wasn't it?" You ask and she only hums, although it comes out sounding like more of a moan. You kiss along her jawline, then down to her neck "Did I do good?"

Sana can only nod her head and close her eyes "So good baby" She keens, her hips bucking into your hand as you fuck her faster and harder with your fingers. She's so wet that you can feel the slippery warmth dripping down your forearm. You think to yourself that this must've really turned her on, the thought of you using her in her sleep.

It's sick and twisted but for some reason, you like it.

She starts babbling incoherent words and you know it’s something she does when she's close. "Gonna cum for me baby?" You ask as her jaw goes slack and her moans go silent. There's only a faint, high pitched, whiny noise coming out of her mouth and she has that look of pure devastation in her eyes, like she’s cumming so hard that she almost can’t handle it.

"Yeah, Yeah, Yeah, Yeah" She mouths the words and then a very audible "Fuck!" and she's cumming all over your fingers. You can feel it inside, the way her walls clench and pulse in an erratic rhythm as her back arches. Her body stutters to a complete stop and then she goes rigid.

It's only a matter of time before... and there she goes, her body relaxes as the pleasureful waves wash over her and her moans turn weak and broken. You kiss her lips softly and she doesn't even try to kiss back "Now how was that?"

"I can't fucking believe... I came so hard" She tiredly runs her fingers through her hair. "I need you to do that more"

"I think I could get used that"

-

Now Sana's definitely got you into this shit. 

By now it's almost been a month since you've had sex and it was really killing you. She's been working a lot, so you refrained from doing anything that could disturb her sleep. You only found yourself watching her at night, touching her cheek, her thighs and really any bare skin she had exposed. She looked so peaceful just laying there, breathing so slowly that you can barely hear it when she inhales.

It's exactly what you're doing right now. Her smooth skin feels so warm and soft on your palm and you don't mean to stare but you just can't take your eyes off of her face. How could someone look so pretty while they're sleeping? It's what you ask yourself every night. 

You really don't intend to slide your palm higher up her leg, but you just can't resist her. Everything about her is almost too addicting. You need her. Need her creaming on your fingers, cumming in your mouth, writhing on your strap. and you need it now.

The sheets are covering her body, so you peel them off and almost immediately you feel that rush in the pit of your stomach. Then the feeling comes back tenfold, like more of a surge when you get an idea.

Maybe you're more sick and twisted than you thought you were because you crawl out of bed slowly and gently so she won't wake up. Then you go into your closet—where you have your toys stashed—and you grab this lavender strap on that you bought just recently. You haven't gotten the chance to try it out with her yet and nows a better time than any. 

You pull off your clothes in the dark room, the sound of the fabric sliding against your skin so loud that you think it might wake her up. It's all in your head and you know it, but you still slow down your hurried movements.

Excitement courses through your veins as you think about how she'll react when she wakes up with your body on top of hers while you're inches deep. That unparalleled look of shock she gets. It has you fumbling with the straps as you try to get it on nice and tight. You crawl back into bed, the dip causing Sana to move just slightly.

She's sleeping like she normally does, on her side with her knees folded. You separate them so they're spread for you and you stop for a moment to see if she'll wake up. She doesn't. So you pull her shorts off, noticing that she isn't wearing any panties tonight. It's something she usually did for comfort reasons though, so you don't see it to mean anything more than that.

Still, it gave you easier access. You shuffle on your knees so you can position yourself between her legs and you reach for the lube on the bedside table. The toy is girthy and she isn't aroused right now so you don't want to hurt her. You coat the toy, and lather it up. Then you put some in your hand and gently you rub it on her cunt. 

Sana hums then she takes in a deep breath and your heart drops because you think you've ruined everything. But then she's back to the way she was and you exhale in relief. 

Now's the time, you guide the head to her entrance and you press it inside. Almost immediately her body has a reaction but it doesn't quite wake her up. An adorable whimper escapes her lips and the way her lips press together almost makes your heart flutter. You push your hips further inside, leaning over to get your body on hers and when you make it to the hilt you put your face in the crook of her neck.

It's around that time that she actually wakes up with a sharp gasp, her upper body trying to rise into you off of pure instinct. "What - Oh fuck... babe" She whines, dragging the four letter pet name out as you begin to move your hips nice and slow, pinning her body to the bed with yours. "Fucking hell - I can't.." She moans and you bite the flesh on her neck, a surge of arousal taking over your body while you rut into her.

"I'm sorry baby, I know you were trying to sleep... but I couldn't help myself" You mutter the needy words into her ear and she almost loses it right then and there. It's the idea that you can't control yourself when she's around you, so much so that you'll even fuck her and use her body while she's peacefully sleeping. In the back of her mind she knows you're only doing this because she asked, but it still has her clenching and dripping.

You kiss her neck and her arms sling around your back "Fuck, fuck, fuck" She chants in that breathless tone like she's struggling to handle everything. Your lips on her skin, your body on her body and most importantly this thick fucking toy stretching her out. You're ruining her.

"You weren't wearing panties darling, you have to forgive me it just seemed so easy, you should've known this would happen" You whisper it into her ear, really playing off of her little fantasy. It's sort of like role-play which is something she's also been into for a while now. 

She gasps again and another choked up sob forces its way out of her throat. Sana is fucking loving this. The way this toy feels, stretching her, rubbing against her walls and hitting all the right spots has her going fucking feral. You know it because she's digging her nails into your back, scratching you so hard it'll leave red marks but you don't mind at all.

Sana's hips buck into yours and you finally bring yourself to pull your head up. Now you're facing her and the look on her face is nothing you've ever seen before. Her eyes are screwed shut and her eyebrows are upturned in the prettiest way ever. You observe her porcelain skin and the mole on her cheek, noticing the sheet of sweat which covers it. "Pl-Please don't fucking stop... don't fucking - Fuck baby it's too much" She pleads.

You only move your hips faster then you bring your hand down and you show her what "too much" actually is when you begin circling her swollen clit. 

"I don't fucking.. I can't - You're so good, so deep in my cunt, so fucking good" She murmurs all the praise in the world, just make sure you know that you're doing a good job. 

"Look at me princess" Your voice is steady and soft when you say it because her pussy is clenching so fucking hard on this toy and you think she might actually be trying to suck it in. Her eyes soon flutter open but they're only squinting "C'mon, let me see those pretty brown eyes" This time you're voice is a bit less steady, more shaky cause this is one hell of a workout.

Like the good girl she is, she opens them wider staring deep into your soul as you fuck her. "So pretty" You mutter, your breath hot against her face and then you lean in to kiss her "Want you to cum on this toy for me"

Sana nods her head when you break the kiss and she's staring at you again, those big beautiful eyes just begging for you to make her cum. She needs it so bad. So you keep going, pressing hard on her clit just the way she likes it and then "Fuck I'm fucking cumming baby, I'm fucking-" She cuts herself off with a loud high pitched squeal.

"There you go" You mumble, watching how her eyes roll to the back of her head as her body arches into yours. "Keep cumming for me, that's my girl" You keep it up and she begins to shudder, taking her bottom lip in between her teeth to bite down harshly. Her eyes eventually do shut and her body sinks back into the bed.

You let yourself lay against Sana's body, feeling the deep and heavy rising and falling of her chest as she catches her breath. "I never expect it" are the first words she sighs with a breathy giggle. Then she wraps her arms around your body, rubbing her hands over the scratch marks to soothe the welted skin "I'm sorry, I got a little carried away"

"I really could care less about that. I'd let you do it over and over again cause it tells me that I fucked you good" You lift your head to look at her. She smiles and you kiss her lips softly again "I love you" you mutter.

Sana can't hide the way she blushes when she says it back "I love you" She whines a bit and you wonder whats wrong "I don't wanna get up"

"Then don't" You mutter

The toy is still buried in her cunt, all the way to the hilt as you two stay like that. She doesn't seem to mind it at all. Sana only hums tiredly in response and the two of you stay like that for a while. It almost feels perfect.

[miwsolovely]

—can you love me (like i love you?)

𝜗𝜚 — in which, red robin likes to shows up at your apartment for an irenic moment from the harsh lines of Gotham. he meets you and you meet him, all of him.

TIM DRAKE x CIVILIAN! GN!READER mild angst. reader pining over tim, vice versa if you squint. 3.8k. — this was so fun — requested

The night air was crisp, carrying the faint scent of rain-soaked asphalt and blooming jasmine from the park nearby. You always found it comforting—an odd juxtaposition of Gotham’s grit and its rare moments of beauty. Tonight, however, it wasn’t the air that brought you solace. It was the quiet creak of boots landing on your fire escape.

You smiled before even turning to look. “You’re late,” You teased, peering over your shoulder at the figure perched outside your window.

“Got caught up,” Red Robin replied, his voice light but tinged with fatigue. He stepped into the room with a practiced ease, his cape swaying slightly as he entered. The mask didn’t hide much—the sharp lines of his jaw, the way his shoulders tensed from the weight of the night’s patrol.

“You okay?” You asked, setting down the tea you’d been preparing next to an additional mug, turning around to face him in the living room, ignoring the pressure of your island on your lower back.

It had become routine by now. After weeks of these impromptu visits, you’d learned his habits: the subtle signs of exhaustion, the occasional wince from a barely hidden injury.

“I’m fine,” He said, though the way he sank into your worn-out armchair betrayed him.

You sighed and let the warmth seep into your palms as you spun around and took a mug from the counter and handed it to him. He took it without argument, the warmth seeming to settle him as he leaned back. “Liar,” You quipped. His nose tensed when he lied.

It had started months ago, the first time he appeared outside your window like some wayward bird. You’d been startled, of course—who wouldn’t be? But he hadn’t come for trouble, just a quiet moment away from the chaos. And somehow, without ever planning to, you became part of his nightly routine.

The first few visits had been awkward. After all, how often does Gotham’s very own Red Robin show up uninvited? But over time, the strangeness faded. He was careful never to overstep, never to ask too many personal questions or reveal too much about himself. Instead, your conversations meandered—books, movies, music, even the weird quirks of Gotham’s neighborhoods.

It wasn’t just him who needed the company. You found yourself looking forward to his visits more than you cared to admit. He was steady, like the ticking of a clock in the background of your life, even if you only ever saw him at night.

Tonight felt different, though. He wasn’t as talkative as usual, his responses short and clipped. You watched him over the rim of your own mug, debating whether to press.

“Long night?” You ventured.

“Something like that,” He replied, staring out the window at the city below. “Some nights are harder than others.”

You hesitated. You didn’t want to pry, but there was a vulnerability in his voice that tugged at you. “Want to talk about it?”

He shook his head, the barest hint of a smile playing on his lips. “You’d make a good therapist.”

“I’m just nosy,” You said lightly, hoping to draw out more of that smile.

And for a moment, it worked. He chuckled softly, the sound like a warm ember in the cold.

“Thanks,” He said after a beat. “For this. For letting me . . . just be here.”

“You say that like you’re intruding.”

“Aren’t I?”

“No,” You said firmly. “You’re not.”

The silence that followed was comfortable, the kind that didn’t need filling. You’d grown used to these quiet stretches, knowing that sometimes words weren’t enough to smooth over the rough edges of the night.

After a while, he stood, setting the empty mug on the counter. “I should get going,” He said, his voice softer now.

“Be safe out there,” You say, facing him on your place on your chair, the words automatic but heartfelt.

He nodded, his gaze lingering on you for a moment longer than usual. Then he was gone, disappearing into the shadows as seamlessly as he’d arrived.

A foggy evening, after his patrol, he arrived later than usual. His uniform was damp, and he looked more worn than you’d ever seen him.

When his eyes met yours, you let out an amused huff, walking to the closet in the hallway to your room, grabbing a beige towel and making your way back to him. “Take a dip in the lake Red?” You teased, handing him the towel as he stepped closer to you.

“Something like that,” He said, echoing the same vague answer he always gave. Even with the mask, you could feel the dam that wanted to implode.

Your brows furrowed.

“You don’t have to do this alone, you know.”

He looked at you sharply, as if the words had hit a nerve. “I’m used to it,” He said after a pause, his voice low and guarded.

“Well, maybe you shouldn’t be.”

The room fell silent again, the tension thick enough to cut.

“I don’t… I can’t risk that,” He said finally. “Letting people in. It’s complicated.”

“Life’s complicated,” Your countered. “But you don’t have to keep everyone at arm’s length. At least not me.”

He stared at you, something unspoken flickering in his eyes. Then, as if breaking under the weight of his own defenses, he said, “I wish it were that simple.”

You didn’t bring it up again, sensing it was a line he wasn’t ready to cross. But the moment lingered, coloring every interaction that followed.

You’d open up to him. Though it wasn’t as reciprocated, you didn’t mind because he listened. Sometimes, when the night was soft, you two would talk about the random things that reminded you of each other, it was your favorite part of when he’d come to your apartment, relaxing in each others presence; it left a sapid taste in your mouth.

You’d talk to him about your life in Gotham University, talked to him about the enigma your heart palpitated for. How his voice made your smile bright and cheeks warm, how it rang though your mind constantly throughout the day, echoing off the walls and finding it’s way back to your heart, the devil that wouldn’t calm down.

You hadn’t realized that underneath the mask, he looked at you with a smile lining his eyes, his own devil pounding in his chest.

When asked if he knew of your feelings, your smiled turned bashful.

“He doesn’t even know my name, Red. I’m just a random with a crush.”

You’re not random, you’re mine. Is what he wanted to say, he wanted you to know who he is. Not the man with the mask — rather the man behind it.

He distanced himself from you at school because he thought that if he didn’t, you’d figure out he’s ‘Boy Wonder’ a bit too easy for his taste. He scares himself every night thinking about what would happen if you find out.

And then one night, he laughed.

Not just the quiet chuckle you’d heard before, but a full, unrestrained laugh that lit up his face. It was over something stupid—a poorly told joke you’d heard from a coworker. But the sound warmed you to your core, and for a moment, it reminded you of your enigma, Tim Drake.

How could someone do that? Look so familiar but unknown at the same time? Your eyes seeing one person, Red Robin: Gotham’s hero. But your heart seeing, hearing, feeling—

“Tim.”

The name left your lips in a whisper, your heart hammering in your chest. You hadn’t meant to say it. You weren’t even sure how you knew, but it was there—like a puzzle piece falling into place.

He froze, his entire body going rigid. “What did you say?”

“Tim,” Quieter this time, you repeated it. “That’s—”

He didn’t answer, but the look in his eyes confirmed it.

“I . . . I didn’t mean to—” You started, but he cut you off.

“How?” he asked, his voice barely more than a whisper.

“I don’t know,” You admitted. “I just . . . knew.”

The silence stretched between you, heavy with the weight of what you’d just revealed.

Red Robin—Tim—he stepped back slightly, his eyes scanning your face as if trying to read the truth there. You could feel the tension in the room, thick and unyielding, and for a moment you thought he might leave. But instead, he sighed, his shoulders slumping as though a great weight had finally pressed him down.

“I’ve been careful,” he said softly. “I’ve spent so long making sure you — no one could ever connect me to . . . to this.”

You didn’t know what to say, the gravity of his words grounding you to the spot. Finally, you managed, “I didn’t mean to—to figure it out! It’s not like I was trying. It just . . .”

He ran a hand through his hair, the motion uncharacteristically unguarded. “I shouldn’t have come here. I shouldn’t have let this go on for so long.”

“Don’t say that,” You pleaded, stepping closer. “I know you think you’re protecting yourself, or me, but you don’t have to do this alone, Tim.”

Hearing his name in your voice seemed to shake something loose in him. He looked at you, really looked at you, and the mask of Red Robin slipped away for just a moment. Beneath it was someone young, someone tired, someone who wanted to believe you. The enigma who became more familiar.

“I don’t know how to stop,” he admitted, his voice breaking slightly. “I don’t know how to turn it off, how to let someone in without putting them in danger.”

You reached out, your hand hovering just above his arm. “You already let me in,” You said quietly. “That’s why you kept—” You stop yourself. “—that’s why you keep coming back.” Your hand connects with the rough material of his suit and you wish you could feel his skin on yours.

He didn’t pull away. For a long moment, the two of you stood there, the sound of rain against the window the only noise in the room.

Finally, he spoke. “You deserve better than this. Better than me.”

You shook your head, your throat tight. “Don’t decide that for me.”

The words seemed to hit him like a blow. He opened his mouth to respond, but no sound came out. Instead, he turned his head, staring at the rain running down the window as though it could give him the answers he sought.

“I’ve thought about it,” You continued, your voice soft but steady. “I’ve thought about what it would mean. What it would mean to care about you —really care about you. Even though it was for Tim at first, there’s more to you and I want to care for you and everything that comes with it. And I’m still here. I’ll always be here Tim.”

That seemed to break him. He sank down onto the edge of the couch behind him, his head in his hands. “You don’t understand what you’re saying. What my life is like. The people I go up against—they wouldn’t hesitate to hurt you to get to me.”

“And you don’t understand what you could mean to me,” You countered. You sit on the floor, right at his feet so you can lock eyes with him even though his domino mask hides them, you can still see the blue of his eyes you admire so much.

“I see the risks, Tim. I see them every night when you walk out that window, not knowing if you’ll come back. But I’m still here because I care about you. And you need to stop deciding what I can handle.”

He looked up at you then, the walls he’d so carefully constructed were crumbling, and you saw the man behind the vigilante.

“I care about you too,” He said finally, his voice barely above a whisper. “More than I should, and — and it scares the hell out of me.”

You rose from sitting criss-cross to your knees, resting your arms on his, you wanted to get impossibly closer, closing the gap between the two of you. “Then let’s be scared together.”

The confession hung in the air, raw and real, and for the first time, neither of you looked away. You didn’t know what the future held, didn’t know if this thing between you could survive the dangers and secrets of his world. But in that moment, none of it mattered.

He reached for your hand, his touch tentative but warm. “This won’t be easy,” He warned you gently.

“I know,” You said, squeezing his hand. “But I’m not going anywhere.”

And for the first time in a long time, he smiled—not the practiced smile of Red Robin, but something softer, something real.

“I don’t deserve you,” He murmured.

“Maybe not,” You teased, a small smile tugging at your lips. “But you’ve got me anyway.”

The two of you stayed like that for a while, the storm outside mirroring the quiet storm of emotions between you. And when he finally left that night, it wasn’t with the usual heaviness of his patrols.

This time, he carried a piece of you with him—and left a piece of himself behind.

©miwsolovely do not plagiarize, copy, or repost my works to other platforms . likes, comments, and reblogs are very appreciated <3

[thewitchandtheassassin]

Everything (Rio Vidal x Reader)

Summary: The flicker of the television was the only light source, the prominent, bold letters lingering on the banner as the reporter spoke.

Missing. Any information. Please come home.

Words: 513

Warnings: I guess dub-con because mind control (sort of?), language, smut, also reader is well over 18. To clarify.

A/N: This was based off a random thing I saw while scrolling through Rio x Reader and y'know, I'm a sucker for topping from the bottom.

-X-

The flicker of the television was the only light source, the prominent, bold letters lingering on the banner as the reporter spoke.

Missing. Any information. Please come home.

The television’s muted but you could see the reporter’s mouth moving, the two people crying on the screen. Begging for any information about their missing daughter while the musty, cheap motel bed squeaked and protested, its rhythmic banging only drowned out of the moans of the woman beneath you.

If only they knew.

“Fuck, harder,” Rio panted below you, sharp nails digging into your shoulder like she was afraid you might deny her. “Don’t you dare stop now.”

Your hips snapped at a desperate, brutal pace, sweat dripping down your spine with every thrust. Her heels pressed against the base of your spine, keeping you trapped—forever in her orbit, buried inside her. The world was a bit hazy and you honestly weren’t sure how long you’d been fucking her like this, but the way she gasped your name—the way she left streaks of crimson across your back—kept you going. Pushing harder and harder, wanting nothing more than to plunge her headfirst into another orgasm.

“Look at that,” she cooed breathlessly, eyes lingering on the television as the news story continued. “I think they miss you, sweetheart.”

A cool hand wrapped around your throat, dragging your attention back to her.

“But you’re happy here, aren’t you? Fucking me. Making me come over and over.” She smirked, something dark and possessive burning up at you. Reminding you of your place, here—with her. “Tell me you want me. You need me. That you’re not going back.”

It was a command but it was also a broken plea; a demand for love, whether given freely or taken by force.

Your head swam, her voice a siren call, forcing you deeper in the endless void of her love—her obsession. It sunk into the deepest recesses of your mind, a brand you couldn’t erase, a scar that would never truly heal.

You were hers and she intended to keep you no matter the cost.

“I’m yours,” you promised, mouth dropping to her throat, leaving a trail of bites that healed almost immediately. “I want you. I need you. I could never leave you.”

In another life, you’d like to think you would’ve fought it. Tried to shove away the twisted, depraved fog in your mind. The one that demanded you not stop until she was satiated. Until she was pleased. That demanded your love and loyalty and obedience. Your devotion and desire.

But this was not that life. You were too weak; too enthralled. Nothing could pull you from her grasp, not even yourself. All you cared about was the flesh beneath your hands and the pretty little sounds she made when you hit the right spot.

That’s what mattered.

Not your parents on the television.

Not that she’d stolen you away, magic sinking into the back of your psyche and demanding absolution.

She was everywhere; everything.

How could you ever want to be anywhere else?

[savi-our]

Anti-Harem with OP Mage MC pt. 3 ft. Horrortale

Its 3 am- This... this is over 3k words.... I'm both cooking and cooked apparently bc this is even longer and more detailed than the last part, I honestly dont know what came over me. The ending is a bit rushed and im posting this half asleep and barely able to make sense of whether or not any of this is actually good but i wanted to post it before going off to sleep - i do hope you enjoy it though, even if by this point im not sure you can call it an anti harem... maybe ill explore that bit more in the next part.... (p.s. i would love love looove to hear you guy's thoughts on what ive cooked up here so please leave a comment if youre inclined to <3)

Part 1 Part 2

It had been a few weeks since the attack on the monster settlement and your work kept you busy. Black and Mutt had both been a welcome new change as far as your experience in monsters went, the three of you seemed to grow closer by the day - sharing the mutual burdens of your job whenever you had any amount of free time. You and Black formed a good professional relationship, often sharing insights on the progress of monster integration into the world outside, and Mutt - albeit avoidant, seemed to develop an interest in watching you whenever he thought you wouldn't notice. He even sometimes visited you whenever his brother had been busy, coming to your office to slump on your couch and waste away his free time, scrolling through his phone and trying not to get caught staring at you while you filed away paperwork.

It was on a particularly early morning that you had arrived at your office, still dazed from your lack of sleep when a new case appeared at your desk. You rarely did personal requests, but this one you could hardly refuse as it had come from one of the joint rulers of the Underground. 

Queen Toriel summoned you, and you listened as she told you her concerns about a particular percentage of her population having an especially difficult time with the integration process. You picked up on the finer details of her request - unspoken words to her plea.

You were aware of the spatial anomaly that had caused the particular brand of chaos that was currently plaguing Monsterkind, a rift that had caused a collision of alternates and pulled them all here. It was a guarded secret among the higher ranking officials, the details shared only to those who were known to be trusted - or to those who were smart enough to see beyond the fragile lie. You were both you supposed, the Archmage themselves requested your insight into the matter, and you offered to consult wherever you could. It didn't surprise you that the Queen turned to you for assistance - involved as you were in the matter.

You agreed to her request, you could hardly refuse considering the high brand on the paperwork, the signature of the Archmage looped in finer print at the corner of the page. You left promptly, assigning a trusted associate of yours to man the office while you were gone, unfortunately the urgency of your task bid no time to waste so you left without notifying the two skeletons that had seemed to be stuck in your orbit as of late, but that was the nature of things when you had such a demanding position.

You were relocated into the depths of the Underground, a rather lavish apartment greeting you in the shadow of the castle of the royal families, but you had little time to waste, the faster you got to work the smoother the integration process would be.

You met with those currently overseeing the progress of the whole thing, a joint department consisting of monsters, humans and mages - social workers, professors, doctors, therapists and volunteers - all with ample experience concerning the more particular quirks that came with joining cultures and assessing risks where there were any. Your status would do you more harm than good here - you realize early on, advised by the royal court to take a more personal approach as you shed down your heavy coats and branded insignias - monsters in the underground were still rather wary of mages, especially ones as infamous as you. You took on the faux position of a well renowned inspector, and set yourself to figuring out what the problem was and how best to solve it.

It was there that you met them, two new yet rather familiar faces that were introduced to you as the spokespersons for the rebuffed population, Twilight and Dusk by name. 

Twilight was large, even by monster standards, a lean silhouette that towered over any others in the room with a set of jagged teeth and a weathered look to his eyes. His appearance however, seemed to be rather misleading. He was friendly, overly so, extending his hand to you in his introduction as he shook yours with a controlled precision, his crooked grin lifted, delighted to meet a new face among the many who were already so familiar over his long stay in the program. He was chatty, friendly even, a social butterfly that delighted in telling you about the many state of affairs that flitted about the establishment. There were some quirks however… every now and again he confused words, voiced idioms that you could hardly make sense of - something about frisbees. He had ticks, nervous habits and moments of sudden cautious anxiety that brought concerns to your mind, there were times where he seemed almost manic, a rattling in his bones as he flitted about the room as if trying to burn off excess magic, trying to keep his hands and mind occupied.

Then there was Dusk. Like his brother he was considerably larger than the average monster. He was bulkier, bigger, an imposing presence in the room that set even your nerves on edge. He seemed dangerous, more than any of the other monsters you've come across, something in your mind whispered caution as you introduced yourself. The best word you could use to describe Dusk was heavy, both literally and metaphorically. He dragged his words as if he practically pulled them from the depths of his mind, his movements were slow, weighed almost by some unforeseen force you could not comprehend, and every now and again he lost focus, a single red eyelight dilated and staring promptly into nothing. His mind was both sharp and slow at the same time, he often shared insights that were surprising in their outside perspective, he commented on things that others had passed by in their expertise - drawing attention to underlying issues that had been overlooked due to the fact that nobody had really thought of them as issues before he made comment. He had a finer eye for detail, but at the same time there were moments where he'd lose his train of thought, a byproduct of his severe head wound no doubt, words forgotten on the tip of his tongue - moments like those seemed frustrate him quite badly, his fingers pulled on his one blank eye socket in quiet irritation. On his better days he'd make offhanded puns that were rather dark in theme - cannibalism seemed to be a favorite of his. On his bad days his voice turned cold, words sharp as his grin pulled on his face almost maniacally, he was tense, guarded like a cornered dog ready to bare teeth.

It had taken you some time to get situated in your new environment, you spent your days meeting with the other monsters who shared similar ailments to both Twilight and Dusk, consulting with the people directly responsible for their integration process and finding correlations between things that worked best and those that didn't work at all. A common pattern in all of those monsters became clear days after your assignment, the heightened cases of sudden anxiety and panic attacks. It was odd to you for some reason, it wouldn't be unnatural for this particular batch of alternates to suffer from such things, considering what you knew they had gone through back in their own reality, but something about it seemed odd.

You investigated your suspicions further, repeatedly meeting monsters and doctors alike, questioning them about the intricacies of their ailments, trying to garner light on the plausible cause for the widespread issue. Twilight seemed eager to help you, he often accompanied you in your search for more information, more knowledge, and his assistance proved quite useful - when you questioned him as to why he seemed so willing to assist you, he responded with an abashed admission - a want to help the monsters who were struggling most finally see the light of day, to taste the fresh air of the outside world, they had been stuck underground for too long. He often stayed with you after hours, organizing papers and research as you delved into the mystery with a hyper focused obsessiveness. You found you always became like this, obsessive over things you could not define or explain, it was that part of you that had helped you rise in power as fast as you had, starved for answers, eager to explore and redefine the things unknown to you- it was almost nostalgic in a way.

 Twilight had a talent for filling blanks in your knowledge, unfamiliar territory as this was he often offered you more insight in the particularities of monster illnesses and behavioral patterns that you were not privy to. You often asked him for clarifications and added depth to your research and he provided them eagerly - either through his own knowledge or systematically organized interviews and research papers that were color coordinated and alphabetized neatly on your desk. He had a knack for organization that one, but you couldn't help but notice how his expression soured whenever he had to bend to lift a particularly heavy box of files off the floor - he tried to hide it, face turned away and the occasional popping of bones concealed by the clear of his throat, but you noticed. You tentatively questioned him about it one late evening, not wishing to pry more than he was comfortable with. He seemed embarrassed by your attentiveness but didn't deny it, hands clasped and pulling on his long fingers in a nervous habit. He revealed to you that the current brand of healing magic and medicine could do very little for his deteriorated state, the effect was not potent enough or so it seemed. The fact didn't sit right with you, and you decided in your mind that you could multitask.

Your research prolonged, and your frustrations grew as the answer to your questions evaded you. You began to spend more time in your office than in your pristine afforded apartment, head buried in books and rushed consultations between experts in the department. Your obsessiveness seemed to grow, and with it your attention to your health lessened, overtaken by a constant hunger for answers. That hunger seemed to replace your baser instincts however, and one particularly busy day the consequences of your declining attention to your physical state seemed to catch up with you.

 You had been on your way to another scheduled meeting with an on site surgeon, carrying a closed file with a hurried pace, you were far too absorbed in your head to notice the shake of your own fingers, or the way the corners of your vision blurred. You were so absorbed in fact, that you didn't even notice the sudden approach of Dusk from the hall across from you. You had ran right into him, nose buried in the plush of his sweater as you had your senses knocked right out of you. The contact didn't even phase him, and he had caught you by the forearm to steady you. You had apologized, noting how it was unlike you to be so distracted in your surroundings. He hadn’t seemed to mind, his large eyelight coming to a soft focus on the point of contact with your arm. 

The force of your run in with him had knocked the file you were carrying onto the ground however, and as you leaned down in your hurry to grab it the world around you spun. You lost your bearings, and your vision turned to black as you fainted, vaguely aware of the pull of someone's arms around you.

You had woken up in one of the medical rooms, an IV in your arm and a growing headache in the corner of your mind. Dusk was there too, hunched in an office chair that was far too small for his hulking frame, you would have laughed - if you hadn't felt like shit at the time that is. Your movement seemed to wake him from his zoning out, and he had leveled you with a look that you couldn't readily discern - something of a mix between worry, scrutiny and confusion. The doctor on hand had walked in to check up on you, cautioning you to pay better attention to your health, you had felt like a child, embarrassed with your own state. Dusk had sat silent next to your bed while you were being discharged, and as you stood to leave with an order to go home and get some rest from the doctor, he stood with you.

The skeleton escorted you home, a silent but unmistakable presence at your side and as you were ready to thank him and say your goodbyes at your door, he had asked you when you had last gotten something to eat - you couldn't give him a straight answer. 

He had pushed his way inside your temporary home then, and you questioned him in your confusion as he opened your fridge to find it mostly empty, he clicked his tongue, a low growling hum from the pit of his ribs as he pushed you down on your couch with a stern order to ‘wait here’

He blinked out of existence then, returning after a while with a greasy bag of food and he urged you to eat, pushing the bag in your lap despite your urge of protests. You complied, silently eating under the watchful eye of his softly dilated gaze.

From then on Dusk began to visit your office on a regular basis, bringing both you and Twilight regular meals and spending his time lounging in one of the bigger chairs available at the time, idly flipping through books. His presence seemed to anchor you, and often he knocked you out of your hyper focused state with a random pun or an offhand comment about the weather. It worked, your urgency had stilled to a healthy normal, mind clearer as both brothers had now taken to paying a keen interest in your physical condition. You still remembered the frantic lecture Twilight had given you after your little trip to the emergency room. He had begun to limit your time in the office after that, setting a healthy time table with a balanced schedule for both rest and work.

The growing connection between the three of you was plain as day, and as days passed you began to find the answers you were so desperately looking for. It was a regular day in the office when you finally solved the mystery - a calm afternoon spent in a comfortable conversation with the brothers over a cup of tea and some snacks Twilight had graciously shared. You had been brainstorming with the brothers, shooting off your theories for plausible causes when Dusk piped in with something that caught your attention. 

You almost dropped the cup of tea you had been idly cradling in your hand. Jumping up to your feet in a newly discovered frenzy, you rifled through a box of files that had been offhandedly pushed to the side, and as you flipped through a particular heavy file about dietary needs it was then that it hit you, something so simple and so overlooked - of course Dusk would have been the one to point it out. Your grin was almost manic in its excitement as the puzzle pieces finally clicked into place, and you turned to the brothers that had gathered behind you in their confusion. You pulled each of them down by their faces, placing a loud smack of your lips on both of their foreheads and watched their faces glow warm as you called them both a genius. You rushed out of the office, missing exchanged looks of embarrassment - eager to share and confirm your discovery.

It was simple really, so easy to miss in all the confusion of the spatial rift and the ongoing process of integration. It was the food that was making the monsters so sick and riddled with anxiety. Coming from a reality here there had been a significant shortage of food - the first response of the healthier populace had been to feed them, feed them as much as they wanted to eat, it was natural really. Except monster food - magical in nature had high levels of energy, too high for a population of monsters that had been previously so deprived of sustenance. It made their magic run rampant, fluctuate in its intensity with high highs and even lower lows. It was the same in humans, eating too much after starving made the patient sick and would effectively do more harm than good. The answer was right there all along, and you cursed yourself at not seeing it sooner.

Things moved quickly after that, you wasted no time to form a plan of order for a change in provisions, something less straining, human food imbued with magical properties was the natural choice. It would take time for the monster's conditions to stabilize, but after a few days on the new program you began seeing positive results. You had reported your success to the royal family and Toriel had once again summoned you for a showing of your solution. If things went as predicted, the rebuffed population would soon show results of steady improvement, they would finally be prime and ready for the further relocation process.

The queen had thanked you for your service and had shown you a rather unexpected act of kindness in doing so, inviting you over to her rooms for a private tea party where you both conversed not like high mage and ruler, but as two troubled souls with the weight of the world on each of your shoulders. It was pleasant, if not a bit awkward on your part, but Toriel seemed to have a knack for making someone feel welcome.

It was a couple of days before your departure that you had invited the skeleton brothers to your apartment for a celebration dinner, you had surprised them with a meal of your own making. Expertly following the guide of their new diet you had imbued it with your own magic, the fact seemed to fluster the brothers for some reason, but they were unwilling to comment as to the reason why. 

The evening trailed off in shared conversation, and as the hour grew late, the mood slightly sombered, it seemed like both Twilight and Dusk had something they had been meaning to confess for a while now, but it had never seemed like the right time. You had a feeling you knew what it was about - they weren't aware of just how much you knew about their past -you had been pretending to be a high ranking inspector after all, a secret as big as alternate realities wouldn't be handed off to someone as low down the hierarchy as that.

It was then that they opened up to you, a cautious whispered admission of their past sins, sins bred out of desperation and grief. In a moment of your own vulnerability you told them you knew, you knew and understood. You reassured them that it didn't change your opinion of them, you shared gentle words of encouragement, soft admissions of your own grief filled memories. 

You would not judge them for their past, because you saw in them a desperate wish for a better life, a fragile hope that they could learn to become monsters capable of loving themselves. 

Perhaps it was wrong, out of all the people in the world it was you who were the greatest threat to their continued existence. You realized you held their fragile future in your scarred hands, and decided to trust in the goodness in their souls.

[genderqueerdykes]

do you ever get tired of ppl asking you essentially the same things/things that have generally the same answers?? like, constantly reinstating the same things only for someone to ask the same question again.. it's something that would frustrate me to no end, so I'm js?? curious what your thoughts are on?? this? /gq very sorry if this comes across as rude at all!!

it doesn't come across as rude!

yes, it gets very exhausting. i get tired of having to type out "butch means queer masculinity" for the 23942390809285th time. that is the ask i get the most for sure, is "can i be butch if i'm xyz" or "do i have to be a lesbian to be butch" and while i'm happy to inform people that butch is a very broad spectrum, you would not believe the amount of asks i get specifically about whether or not people are "allowed" to be butch its. pretty exhausting at times. i know people don't mean any harm but i think that is one of the talking points that comes up most on my blog and its tiring to have to say it over and over and over again

but i will do it if it means helping someone learn! it's exhausting but it doesn't mean i don't want to do it. i appreciate this though, because i can tell that you see me as a person, and not an automated answer dispenser. i appreciate that you're concerned about how i feel. i view this blog as a labor of love. i do it because i'm passionate about teaching people and helping people understand the world around them. i do feel good about what i do at the end of the day. even if i have to answer the same question many, many times. i can't expect people to plumb through my entire blog before they send an ask. i can't expect that every single person has seen all of my posts. it's unrealistic to think that i wouldn't get repeats of that ask

and i do love that i'm one of the people that folks come to right away if they have questions about butchhood! i will say that i am glad that people come to me, because so many people have such a bad take on what it means to be butch. so many people are uninformed. so many people think that butch just means perisex cis woman in a tank top and jeans. i will gladly be here every day to tell people what all being butch can mean and encompass. even if it gets old sometimes, i'm still very happy to be able to educate people on a label that is extremely important to me, on a bone deep level

[aishangotome]

[Clavis] A Love Tailored To You Part 1

Credit to @shatcey for providing the video upload.

Late at night, even in the bustling Kingdom of Lulush, silence fell––

Clavis and I, having just made love, lay facing each other in bed, cooling our flushed bodies in the moonlight streaming through the window.

Emma: Hmm... Clavis, where are you touching?

His long fingers trailed along my thighs, still damp with sweat.

Clavis: Your leg?

Emma: That's not my "leg?"

Before I knew it, his fingers had crept up to the border between my thighs and buttocks, and I swatted his "bad" hand away.

Clavis: A moment ago you showed me such a shy— no, such a lovely sight, and now you're being cold to me.

His hand left my backside, but instead, Clavis snuggled closer, as if seeking affection.

(Oh...)

Our skin, still warm with passion, touched, and a deep ache throbbed within my lower abdomen.

(My body is at its limit, but somewhere in my heart, I want to be loved by Clavis a little more.)

(Lately, the more I'm loved, the more I want... When did I become so greedy?)

Clavis: ..............

Emma: ...? Is something the matter?

Clavis: I was debating whether to tell you this or not... but I shouldn't keep secrets from my beloved fiancée.

Clavis: I think I'll confess honestly.

Clavis squeezed my hand as if making up his mind.

Clavis: ... Actually, there's something I've been worrying about. Will you listen?

(It's rare to see him with such a serious expression. Could it be a really serious problem...?)

Emma: Of course. Please tell me. I'll do anything I can to help.

Clavis: You're truly kind.

Clavis: Well, um... It's hard to say, but...

(I wonder what it is...)

Clavis: I'm having trouble developing a new product for the Lelouch Trap series.

Emma: That's terrible... Huh?

Clavis: Hm?

Emma: Traps, you say?

Clavis: Yes, and?

(...I was worried for nothing...)

Clavis: Haha, don't make such an obviously disappointed face.

Clavis: Besides, it's a more serious problem than you think. For both me and you.

Emma: Come to think of it, something like this happened before...

Emma: Clavis, you were in a slump, and then..., uh...

As I somehow managed to pull out the sunken memory from the depths of my mind, the throbbing in my lower abdomen intensified for some reason.

Clavis: That look on your face... It seems you haven't quite remembered it yet?

Clavis: It's no wonder. You were in a terrible state back then.

Emma: Wasn't it Clavis who was in a terrible state? You were agonizing over it for so long...

(Huh? Was that really all?)

Clavis: Ah, that was a painful experience for me too. After all, I made my beloved Emma furious.

Emma: I wasn't furious, and I wasn't angry about the slump.

Clavis: But it's true that you were displeased.

Emma: Displeased, or rather, a little frustrated, I guess...

Clavis: It's the same thing in that I took the smile away from my beloved fiancée's face.

Clavis: How did I get over the slump back then?

Emma: Um, let me see...

*flashback*

It was shortly after the Kingdom of Lelouch was founded, and the "lovey-dovey sweet life" that Clavis had spoken of began––

(...No doubt about it.)

I had a small errand to run, so I went to the room used as a storeroom. With my hand on the doorknob, I stood motionless, staring at the door.

(It's just a hunch... but I feel like it's been "set.")

(This room isn't that big, and the ceiling is high, making it difficult to set something up above.)

(So, if anything's coming, it'll probably be from the front. In that case...)

I made up my mind and flung the door open with force.

Emma: ...Gah!

The instant I opened the door, I quickly dodged to the side, and a gray object whizzed past my face with tremendous force.

(That was a clay doll cushion...!)

The cushion, which had slammed into the wall behind me, swelled up from the impact, growing to the size of a person, then burst, scattering ribbons and confetti.

Emma: That was close...

I breathed a sigh of relief and stepped into the storeroom, but––

Emma: Eek!

The ribbons that had scattered from the explosion tangled around my feet, and I fell forward.

A second clay doll cushion shot out from somewhere, gently catching me.

(I've been had...)

As I struggled to untie the ribbons from my feet, I heard footsteps approaching.

Clavis appeared, clapping his hands in satisfaction at the sight of me sprawled on the floor at the entrance to the room.

Clavis: I'm surprised. I didn't expect you to dodge the first one.

Emma: Wasn't the second one meant to anticipate that!?

Clavis: No, the second one was meant to further amuse you as you entered the room, pouting...

Clavis: Hmm, you've become quite the trap master yourself, haven't you?

Emma: Hehe, fallen in love with me all over again?

Clavis: Yes. Just how far do you intend to make me indulge you?

(Since we started living together, I feel like I've gotten more and more used to Clavis's traps.)

(Does that mean I've become better at reading what Clavis is thinking than before?)

(It makes me a little happy to have grown as an accomplice.)

I unconsciously covered my loosened lips with my hand.

Clavis looked at me with a solemn expression as I lay there grinning on the clay doll cushion.

Emma: Clavis?

Clavis: No... don't worry about it.

Clavis: I'll always give you pleasure. You can look forward to it.

-

Several days later––

Emma: Whoa, the crackling bubbles are overflowing from the bathroom all the way out here...

Emma: It's a good thing I was suspicious and threw the linen in from outside...

-

Emma: How on earth did the table and chairs rotate along with the carpet?

Emma: If I had stayed seated, I might have been in trouble.

-

Emma: That was close; if I had been a little slower to react, I would have been hanging upside down.

Emma: I wonder how he prepared this mirror that reflects upside down. I couldn't help but stare.

-

Emma: ...Alright!

The moment I opened the window, I swiftly dodged the sticky substance that flew in from outside.

(I haven't fallen for a single trap these past few days!)

(I've truly become a Trap Master... no, perhaps a Clavis Master?)

With a feeling of pure joy and a slight sense of superiority, I smiled at Clavis, who was beside me.

Clavis: ...........

Clavis put his hand to his mouth, pondering for a moment, and––

Clavis: I'm sorry, but I'll stop setting traps for you for a while.

Emma: Eh?

(Just when I was getting the hang of overcoming the traps.)

Clavis: It pains me to do this, but it's for your own good. Forgive me.

(Well, I guess it's a good thing that the townspeople won't be troubled by the traps anymore... right?)

Even as I answered, I felt an indescribable frustration in my chest.

-

Emma: ––So that's what happened.

The next day, I told Cyril, whom I met in the hallway, how Clavis had stopped setting traps.

Cyril: You've finally been freed, congratulations!

Cyril: Let's have a lavish meal tonight. No, let's have a party!

Emma: A party would be a bit much, Clavis would feel sad.

(And, it's true that things will be peaceful, but I also feel a little lonely...)

Just then, a whistling sound came from somewhere.

Emma: Huh?

Cyril: Huh?

.

.

.

.

Part 2

If you’d like to support my translations, feel free to buy me a coffee here! :)

[vir-tanadahl]

fijakslzdx

This post was supposed to be about Mythal as the Big Bad in the next game and her long-overdue reckoning. But because I wasn't clear in the initial post, we’ve ended up debating whether it was Morrigan or the Inquisitor who drank from the Well of Sorrows.

Look—I’m not here to argue about your playthrough. It’s your game, your choices. Personally, it’s always my Inquisitor who drinks from the Well, especially when I’m playing a Lavellan.

But if we’re going to focus on why it might have been Morrigan—fine. I’ll play along. Here are the reasons why I think Morrigan drinking from the Well makes the most sense in terms of canon.

If you agree, awesome. If you don’t, that’s cool too. At the end of the day, I’m just one person on the internet who loves DA. You don’t have to agree with me. Take what sticks, leave what doesn't.

Why it Makes Sense that Morrigan Drank from the Well:

Morrigan was raised and taught by Flemeth to preserve and study ancient elven and arcane knowledge. Realistically, she’s the most prepared to handle the Well of Sorrows—both its consequences and the overwhelming knowledge it grants. Morrigan herself points this out before anyone drinks from the Well, and she reinforces it later if the Inquisitor is the one who drank, noting their struggle to process the voices they now hear.

While Morrigan initially pursued knowledge for her own purposes, her motivations evolved over time—especially if she had Kieran.

Morrigan also reminds us that power isn’t just about raw strength—it comes in many forms, including the power of knowledge. I also don't think Mythal is all knowing. And I also think she wants her vessels to research and learn this information to.

Beyond her expertise, Morrigan is also Flemeth’s daughter and, canonically, Mythal’s successor. As Kieran puts it, she’s the “Inheritor.” When Flemeth died, Morrigan inherited a fragment of Mythal’s essence, solidifying her role as not just a student of ancient knowledge but an agent—or perhaps even a vessel—of Mythal’s will.

Having Morrigan drink from the Well of Sorrows helps consolidate Mythal's power and knowledge within her chosen successor. This ensures that Mythal's influence—and access to the Well's secrets—remains firmly in her control.

Morrigan has spent her entire life immersed in ancient magic and lore. She wouldn’t waste the Well’s knowledge or power but would wield it effectively to advance her own goals—or Mythal’s. And if it was Morrigan who drank from the Well, she’d act on Mythal’s will whether she realized it or not.

We already know that Mythal, through Flemeth and her other hosts, has been playing a long game, manipulating events across centuries. Positioning Morrigan to drink from the Well could be yet another deliberate move in a larger plan—one we’re still piecing together.

(If fact, Mythal says to Morrigan, regardless of who drank from the Well, "You seek to preserve the powers that were, but to what end? It is because I taught you, girl...")

Narratively, Morrigan has always been driven by a desire to defy and escape her mother’s influence. Drinking from the Well adds another layer of complexity to her arc as she grapples with whether she’s acting for herself, her son, or as an unwitting pawn in Mythal's long-term plans.

If the reckoning is tied to Mythal’s vengeance, justice, or restoration, Morrigan makes an ideal vessel to carry out that plan. Her deep connection to Mythal, paired with the Well’s knowledge, puts her in a unique position to act decisively when the moment arrives.

Let’s Talk About Why It Might Not Be the Inquisitor

First things first—let me share my personal opinion as it ties back to my Inquisitor before diving into the reasons why I don’t think it was 'canon' the Inquisitor to be the one who drank from the Well.

- As I mentioned earlier, my Lavellan always drinks from the Well. But honestly? I don’t want my Inquisitor to be deeply tied to whatever fallout comes from that choice in the next game—because it raises the risk of them dying. And I really don’t want that. - No matter if they’re Lavellan, Trevelyan, or any other origin, I’m incredibly attached to my Inquisitor. I want them to have their happy ending, to retire peacefully with their romantic partner and live out their days free from looming cosmic consequences. They’ve earned it. - The whole point of the original post was Mythal being the Big Bad--I don't want my Inquisitor involved in that! If you do, amazing, then leave this whole post behind!

Second things second, here is why I don't objectively think it is the Inquisitor:

- The devs have said too many choices can complicate things, which is why DATV offers only three options. While the Well of Sorrows was originally included, it didn’t make the final cut. What that means for the story remains a mystery. - The devs have noted how hard it is to keep every world state valid. BioWare seems to be narrowing options to maintain a cohesive story—too many branches make that nearly impossible to manage. - The Devs have stated that the Inquisitor's story is over. - We can debate respecting player choices all day, but the reality is, while the devs do their best to honor those decisions, sometimes it’s just not possible. Storytelling and technical limits mean compromises have to be made. - We can debate the game’s timeline and whether the Inquisitor might have escaped the Prison of Regret with Solas (if that’s your world state), but without knowing exactly when the game takes place, it’s kind of a moot point.

Digging into the In-Game Reasoning (Both Stated and Implied) for Why Morrigan Could Be the Choice

If Mythal’s goal is to prepare someone both knowledgeable and strategically positioned for the reckoning, Morrigan is the clear choice. Morrigan has an understanding of the ancient knowledge, political neutrality, and ambition makes her uniquely capable—and driven—to wield the Well’s power effectively. (Sure, we can argue the an Inquisitor can learn everything Morrigan has been studying for the like 10 or so years...)

With her magical expertise, willpower, and cunning, Morrigan wouldn’t be overwhelmed by the Well.

This creates tension—Morrigan might serve Mythal’s plans while believing she acts on her own terms. The Well’s binding isn’t just about knowledge; it’s about enduring its weight. Having spent her life mastering powerful magic, Morrigan is uniquely prepared for this burden.

If Mythal wanted just anyone to drink, she could’ve chosen someone more obedient. Morrigan drinking wasn’t random—it was a deliberate choice aligned with her rare skills and determination.

Flemeth’s death wasn’t just a transfer of power—it was a continuation of intent. Morrigan isn’t merely a vessel; she’s Mythal’s chosen successor in spirit and purpose. Drinking from the Well cements that role, binding her even more deeply to Mythal’s legacy.

The reckoning isn’t just about knowledge—it’s about willpower and agency. Morrigan ensures Mythal’s agent isn’t just capable of wielding the Well’s power but driven enough to act on it.

ANYWAY, I COULD BE COMPLETELY WRONG AND THAT IS OKAY! I LIKE THEORIZING FOR FUN.

UPDATE TO ADD: The story took a turn after David Gaider left in 2016, about a year after Trespasser was released. The devs have mentioned they had to rework parts of the narrative because they felt they couldn’t fully deliver on Gaider’s original vision. This likely means the implications of the Well of Sorrows choice could have shifted too. To what extent? 🤷🏼‍♀️ Who knows.

What if it was actually Morrigan who drank from the Well of Sorrow because if you drink it, "everything you do, whether you know it or not, will be for [Mythal]," according to Solas.

And that fragment of Mythal is in Flemeth. So when Flemeth dies and goes to Morrigan, Morrigan is going to be more primed for accepting Mythal because she drank from the Well of Sorrows.

Because Mythal is still planning her reckoning.

EDIT: this post is focusing on Mythal being the big bad and getting her reckoning in the next game. I personally think she prepped morrigan for this and needs the power from the Well of Sorrows.

[krotiation]

Your tag is keeping on playing in my head. Like - just how much of Tales had Jack spent thinking of his revenge and taking over it all. And how much he actually enjoyed spending time. Could he really look through Rhys' memories or was it just some folders Rhys kept on his Echo Eye. Was he just thinking about how to use him or did he catch himself being actually proud of him and happy to be stuck in this guys head specifically. Grrrrr hologram Jack tell us more

I personally think Jack had some type of attachment to Rhys, even if it wasn’t his intentions like… at all. Sure, getting back on Helios and taking over Rhys body was always the main goal, and whether he came to like Rhys or not wasn’t gonna stop him from going through with his plan, but Jack was almost predisposed to eventually become obsessed with him. Strap in, I’m about to ramble

First of all, I imagine that Rhys reminded him a lot of Angel. Rhys was young, he looked up to Jack almost naively so, but he was snarky and also defied him sometimes which Angel did too. I made a real long post about this a couple months ago but basically, Rhys and Angel share a lot of similarities in how Jack treated them. Jack probably did feel proud over Rhys at times, and thankful that it was Rhys and not some other Hyperion employee with the personality of a napkin. It feels more personal than just “let’s manipulate this kid and take his body”, even if that ultimately was the end goal.  And after Jack was plugged into Helios and found out about what happened to not just Angel but Nisha as well? Not to mention Wilhelm being dead and Timothy leaving for the casino? Rhys was the only one Jack somewhat trusted who wasn’t already dead or long gone

But also, imagine this: you’re quite literally inside someone else’s brain. Everything you see and hear, everywhere you go, everyone you interact with, is through this dweeb with the most questionable fashion sense on Pandora (which says a LOT). No one can see you except for him. You’re dependent on him in every sense of the word. If he pisses you off, you can’t do your usual routine of beating or killing him. You HAVE to get close to (or at the very least, used to) him, something your paranoid ass hasn't allowed yourself to do for years

And honestly, Rhys’ software has bled into Jack as much, if not more, as the Jack AI has bled into Rhys. This is just my personal headcanon but I definitely think some part of Jack felt a little hollow when he left Rhys’ head on Helios, almost like having a tooth ripped out (or… being the tooth that got ripped out). Some part of him expected Rhys to be as dependent on Jack as Jack was on him, which is why he thought Rhys would just mindlessly agree to essentially be his meat puppet. But then he not only rejected him, he tried to leave too. The only one Jack had left, who became such a huge part of his holographic life, physically and emotionally. The only one who hadn’t died, left or abandoned him up until this point, wanted to leave

Jack was back on Helios, back on his throne, and he had everything in his power to regain control of Hyperion. Despite how horrified Rhys was over Jack’s plan, he didn’t have any intentions to kill Jack, and had Rhys been any less important to Jack, he could have let him go or commanded someone else go after him while he focused on getting another employee to give him their body. The only problem was that Jack was attached to Rhys and took this as a betrayal, just like Angel and Moxxi had been close to him until they betrayed him too. So what if Helios paid the price for Jack’s revenge? So what if Jack was going to die killing Rhys? It was too personal to not risk everything for

This is a very complicated way of saying I definitely think Jack cared about Rhys, whether that be because he was emotionally attached or because he was literally inside this guy’s brain and couldn’t help but get attached. Everywhere he looked, there was Rhys and only Rhys. So yeah, he DEFINITELY thought about Rhys a lot. Probably more so than Katagawa did. It’s a special kind of horrific <3

[deadbeandrop]

ah yes, my favorite characters from camp lazlo, how come no one talks about them uhhh (checks notes) slinkman's parents from a family portrait in one episode

they met at slugfest ❤️

[theartthatleavesthemark]

this post probably exists out there somewhere but. you know the book la galatea? the one Flint leaves for Miranda in 2x3? uhh well it was written by Cervantes the man most well known for creating the patron saint of lost causes (don quixote) but that isnt even the most insane part this book was a collection of pastoral poems loosely wedged into a narrative now, what were these poems about you may ask? well, pastoral stories for those of you who do not know are about love specifically they are about overpowering love making people do insane things and many of these stories in this book end either in tragedy or very ambiguously. essentially the love was there but it didnt change the ending. now the frame these tales are set in? well, THAT is the story of two gentleman, one of noble birth named Elicio and one of low birth who is nonetheless quite well-spoken named Erastro (sound familiar?) who are both in love with the same woman (the titular galatea). they agree that their shared love will never interfere with their friendship. now if you, like me, are throwing objects at the walls at this point, wait for the best part: la galatea is UNFINISHED. Cervantes wrote only part 1 and IN DON QUIXOTE there is a scene in which part one is BURNED and a character comments that it will never be any good without a second half. which he never wrote.

[courtney-deserved-better]

telling myself i can't start another tdwt rewrite but dear god do i want to write one focusing on alejandro and courtney in this weird situationship thats a lot more nuanced than just alejandro manipulating courtney and her falling for it. like theyre best friends they dont trust each other theyre the same person they dont know anything about the other one theres a mutual attraction theyre pining for other people theyre codependent they dont care about each other theyre platonic soulmates like i just want to do a deep dive into how messy that relationship couldve been building off of their friendship that exists in my head except the line between romantic and platonic is so fucking blurred they have no idea what they are to the other person

[deoidesign]

I’m a trans man that recently got diagnosed with hyper mobile eds, so now seeing Steve makes me extra happy, because cool disabled ftm rep. Thanks for making the radical dude bro, he’s funky.

same disability (waving hand emoji)

Always extremely fulfilling to know my work makes people happy in some small way, it means a lot. Thank you for sharing with me

[yuridovewing]

i understand the frustration with “i made this gay pairing cis x trans so they can still have biological babies” with no thought to other methods and how ppl assume thats the case when it comes to mothpool aus where mothwing is also the mother of the three, but also…. idk i kinda dont give a shit if someone wants to do that and i dont really think its inherently transphobic as long as its handled with care and respect.

what really concerns me about this debate is how some people are adamant that you cannot portray trans people having biological children in media or youre being disrespectful. and im gonna say as a nonbinary person who doesnt want children for themself- thats kinda fucking weird? like i understand that for some people, theyre trans themselves and theyre speaking from a place of dysphoria, and i absolutely get that, which is why i think the topic should be handled with nuance and diversity in trans characters, but like…. guys. pregnant trans men exist irl. trans women get people pregnant irl. trans ppl’s ability and right to parent and have biological children are being debated irl. we get denied the opportunity to adopt as well.

in a climate like this, are we SURE we want the stance on rewrites and headcanons in the silly cat books to be “if you portray trans characters having children, especially with a gay couple, youre a transphobic freak no matter what!” does it really matter? especially if its being done by a trans person handling the topic with nuance who has a lot of trans characters with varying perspectives?

obviously yes, remember that thats not the only way certain gay couples can have kids, remember that not every trans person is fully comfortable with it and keep that in mind, remember that surrogacy and adoption are also perfectly valid ways to give fan babies- but remember that there are OPTIONS. not that you need to condemn the idea of transgender parents in the first place unless they fit the very specific criteria of “proper transgender representation” and anything that dares deviate from that is proof the op is a transphobic monster (bonus points if theyre a trans creator bc i mostly see trans people getting shit for this and it kinda pisses me off. although idm if cis people do it either as long as theyre handling it with respect)

[seaofreverie]

I knew about the post concert depression but no one told me about the post concert constant feeling of AAAAAAAAAHHH that lasts days and makes everything much more bearable and beautiful and some sort of ethereal type of hope is restored into the world, or maybe it's just the "seeing your favourite band after first thinking that it would never happen and later spending many months waiting for it all the while fearing that it wouldn't happen after all because of circumstances outside my control or feeling like it was too beautiful and wonderful to be true so ofc it wouldn't come true" part of it all