#so i was finally at peace when he used his own position of power to thrown that annoying tree under the bus to clear kao's name 🙏🏿

[ochibrochi]

spontaneous magic manifestation was NOT mentioned in the parenting handbook 😬

I know this isn’t how magic in dc works, but the fact that Damian’s ancestry includes some pretty powerful magic users is… INTERESTING 🤔? Drabble under the cut!

I wanna preface that I'M NOT SAYIN' that Damian should/does have magic powers, but there’s still so much unexplored potential with Damian's character, and the thought that he has a dormant adeptness in magic is somewhat compelling to me. Most importantly it would FREAK! BRUCE! OUT!!!!! What is this, magic puberty 😭??

By DC laws, anyone has the ability to learn magic, but it is also possible to be an innate ability. The Al Ghuls are no strangers to the occult-- Ra's has had increasingly been portrayed as a magic user, and the recent establishment of his mother being a sorceress/witch?? Even Talia dabbled in a bit of magic, I think. There is a catch that their power is suggested to be due to Lazarus exposure, but for arguments sake let's say the Al Ghul lineage is inherently proficient in magic (and Lazarus exposure simply enhances it).

I can't recall "magic" being a part of Damian's training/upbringing (I'm still slowly catching-up on Damian comics so apologies if I miss any canon examples of magic use). Not sure why Talia wouldn't want her little "heir to an ancient assassin empire baby" to learn magic, but it would at least give reason to Damian not knowing about his magic potential, or lack of interest in it.

Through the power of pseudo storytelling, what if Damian's encounter with Mother Soul could have triggered a manifestation of magic that was once dormant; like a pressure cooker waiting to explode with energy when it hasn't been given a safe outlet.

I've yet to read a satisfying arc where Damian truly gets to contemplate his Al Ghul roots outside of "dad is good guy, mum is bad guy". Damian's initial character growth stems from him running away from, and renouncing his association with the League (i.e. "I'm nothing like you, mother and grandfather!").

The most recent thing I've read was Robin (2021), and whilst Damian is much more cordial with his mother, there's still an emotional distance and sense of distrust/resentment (for good reason, even if the context was some cartoonishly evil writing). But there is a silver-lining that they still appear to be fond of each other, in a melancholy kind of way.

Realizing he's "genetically" primed for magic would be especially confronting to Damian. There's no denying his Al Ghul blood, forcing him to confront a facet of himself he can no longer ignore or reject. A family that he likely has to approach for help/guidance.

Damian is put in a position of acknowledging this power could be used for good, to be stronger, to fight crime, balancing it with the implication that what he possesses could be rooted in dark magic (Lazarus enchantment).

If he decides to embrace it, would that be too much of an endorsement of the Al Ghul's dark occultism? Can he separate the two ideas? What if he can't control it? What if he accidentally hurts someone? What if has the ability to save someone where his other skills fall short?

Ideally, I'd love for this hypothetical story to lead into Damian exploring his Al Ghul heritage more intimately, historically, and spiritually (à la RSoB: Year of Redemption adventures). Another little coming-of-age self discovery journey.

I have my own little personal thoughts on what Damian decides to do with his magic powers, but I'd like to leave that open to interpretation... By the end of it I hope that he will at least find some forgiveness over resentment, and a balance between accepting that side of his family a little easier. It is finally a sense of inner peace :)

Any thoughts? Did I get any characterisation wrong? Let's talk over on my DC blog @arkhamochi! I'm currently trying to read all Damian-centric comics until I catch up with the current run. I'm hungry for discussion and analysis!!!!!!

[jjsanguine]

I finally got round to doing all the homework necessary for watching dark blue kiss and it was worth it

Dark Blue Kiss really deserves more credit for the social issues it brought up. Non’s not really the villain of the series; if anything, by what we see of his life, he’s what Pete could have become without his father’s and Kao’s support, love, and influences. Meanwhile, Kao’s entire character arc is a microcosm of queer-related fears coming true: in rapid succession, he’s outed, accused of sexual assault, and barred from his fledgling career as a tutor. The antagonist of PeteKao’s arc is their own society.

Kao’s not just afraid that his mother won’t support him—he’s also afraid that coming out will complicate her career in education as well. He knows her boss is homophobic, and then he sees firsthand how her boss treats his queer son. Ultimately, it’s only because Pete has a privileged place in society and a broad platform on social media that he’s able to share evidence of Kao’s innocence and resurrect Kao’s career. The series ends on a happy note with Kao finally ready and comfortable to live as openly gay, but there’s the quiet, sad reality on the fringes that he would have had a much colder future without someone rich and famous using his social capital for Kao’s benefit.

That’s not even going into SunMork’s whole arc, which I love for different reasons, but still has a strong line of queer experience at its core. I think queer people in general have a difficult time trusting others because we’re constantly on edge. We’re shown Sun’s rocky relationship with his father and Mork’s financial struggles, and neither of them sees each other as open enough to rely on. Sun sees anyone who might take Rain away from him as a threat, and Mork is justifiably frustrated by Sun’s relentless antagonism and only reaching partway to take Mork’s hand.

It’s such a good series, and I do hate that the barrier for entry is so high because I love recommending it to people. It’s not for everyone, I know, but damn is it right up my alley. 💖

[wildsaltair]

Nightmare

Pairing: Maximus Decimus Meridius x reader

Rating: T (hurt/comfort, angst, fluff)

Word Count: 2.3k

Tag List: @enjisbf, @nasatshirts, @empressenchanted

Author’s Note: Up until now I've never posted any Maximus fanfiction because it's always just sort of been something I did for my own enjoyment, but this is one that I don't mind sharing :) @streets-in-paradise inspired me by sharing some Maximus love with me, so this is dedicated to her (and all you other wonderful people who have made Tumblr a place where I can share my passion for this wonderful man)! There's a lot of love poured into this fic, so I hope y'all enjoy it :)

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ 

You are not surprised to learn that Maximus has nightmares. The details of his past are something you can only guess at, though he has alluded to the terrible battles and bloody escapades that haunt his memories. You also know that his refuge in your home is the first peace he has known since he was a child.

But you are not prepared for the sheer forcefulness of his first nightmare. He’s asleep next to you in bed, pale blue moonlight filtering through the window of your room, but you are awakened by his movements in the middle of the night. He’s jerking back and forth, his face twisted in a look of concentration, agony, and terror. You can’t help the fear that rises in your throat at the sight.

He makes a quiet sound in the back of his throat, one hand gripping the sheets tightly enough that his knuckles turn white. Blinking yourself into consciousness, your heart tightens at the sight. Even all these miles and months away from battle, still his past pursues him in dreams.

His next convulsion shakes the bed, and you instinctively reach out to him, hoping to wake him from the nightmare. It proves to be a mistake the second your hand presses onto his shoulder to shake him awake.

His eyes fly open at your touch, but it’s abundantly obvious that he is not awake, still seeing visions of whatever memory he was in a few moments ago. The look in his eyes is one of pure survival instinct, of a desperation that breaks your heart.

A split second later, you’re flat on your back, and the full weight of his body is pinning you down against the bed. You barely have time to register the shock of his swift movement before you realize that you did not wake him up. Blinded by memory, all he can see is his opponent, and the thought drives you to panic and try to wriggle out from under him.

Grinding his teeth, he grips both your wrists in his left hand and restrains them above your head effortlessly, despite your struggling. You call out his name softly, then more loudly, but still he is lost in the nightmare.

You thought you had tasted his strength before, when he’s made love to you and demonstrated how easily he can hold you in whatever position he chooses, but this situation gives you an entirely new perspective of his strength. A second after flipping you over, his right hand is around your throat, his thumb pressing into your jugular with enough force to crush it.

You’ve never been afraid of him once, but in this moment, without a single hint of recognition in his eyes and all his power focused on choking you, you are so terrified you can barely react. You can’t even use your hands to try to push him away.

Knowing that you may only have a few seconds to react, you gasp out his name as loudly as you can, the word immediately drowned out by the pressure on your throat. Your vision is fading to black a moment later, all the feeling in your hands gone from his vise-like grip.

But your strangled cry reaches past the fog of his nightmare somehow. The pressure on your throat releases, and his eyes widen suddenly, letting you know that he’s finally awake and realizing what he has been doing.

You can never forget the look in his eyes at that moment. All the terrifying forcefulness, the single-minded fierceness, the brute strength that made him such a force of nature on the battlefield — it all vanishes in a split second, dissolving into a gaze of such horror and regret that it shatters your heart instantly. You know that from this moment forward, he may never truly trust himself with you again, a thought that devastates you for him.

You can’t move for a moment, still struggling to catch your breath, and the look of horror in his eyes only increases as he pushes himself off you. He seems torn between the need to gather you in his arms and the fear of hurting you as he just did. His lips move, but no sound comes out.

You draw a ragged breath, reaching out one hand toward him desperately. “I’m all right,” is all you can manage. “I’m all right.”

You try to push yourself to a sitting position, but you find that you simply cannot, still so shaken from thinking you were about to be choked to death by the man you love, who you know would rather die than cause you any harm. His hands are trembling wildly when he reaches out to steady you.

“I didn’t know it was you,” he says, his own breathing so erratic that you wonder if he can feel your pain. “I couldn’t see you. I didn’t know it was you.”

He’s repeating himself in absolute shock, his eyes scanning every inch of your face, your neck, your arms to see what damage he’s done to you. His shaking only worsens, but he doesn’t lay a hand on you during his frantic checking over you for injuries, just lets them hover as if he’s afraid to touch you again.

You manage to sit up this time, steadying yourself with a calming breath and trying to give him a relaxed smile. “I know, I know,” you murmur, reaching out to brush your hand over his ruffled hair. He almost recoils at your touch.

“I could have killed you,” he whispers, involuntarily shifting himself to the edge of the bed away from you.

You keep running your hand lightly through his hair, determined to reassure him. “Of course not,” you promise. “You were only dreaming. It was just a dream.”

“It was just a dream,” he echoes, but not in agreement. “A dream of a battle in which I almost died. In which I killed so many men I could never count them.”

You don’t betray a single hint of fear, just scooting forward to close the distance between you. You use both hands now, framing the sides of his face as his eyes search your face desperately.

“I’m perfectly all right,” you assure him with a smile. “See? No harm done at all.”

“You don’t understand,” he insists vehemently, his voice breaking. “I could have killed you. I didn’t know it was you. I only saw my enemy and thought of killing him.”

Seeing how shaken he is, you push forward and clasp your arms around his neck to steady him. He still doesn’t touch you, doesn’t return your embrace. You can feel his whole body quaking in your arms.

“You don’t understand,” he repeats. “You don’t know what I’m capable of.”

“I don’t need to know,” you whisper in his ear, stroking his hair rhythmically in the way he always responds to.

He actually pushes you away this time, his hands gentle on your forearms as he puts space between you again. His eyes are blazing, his face as white as your sheets. “You don’t know,” he murmurs again, dropping his hands. “I could snap your neck with one twitch of my wrist. I could break your wrists, your ribs, your spine as easily as I can hold you down.” He holds his hands up in front of you, eyes wide and haunted. “You have no idea what these hands have done.”

“I don’t care what they’ve done,” you argue, seizing his hands with yours before he can pull them away. This time, though, he doesn’t make a move to pull away, freezing in place while he watches you carefully. Slowly, intentionally, you kiss the backs of both his hands, his knuckles, his fingers, to demonstrate your words. “I know you, and I love you, no matter what you’ve done.”

He shakes his head, though his eyes drift closed at the touch of your lips on the base of his palms. “No,” he half-whispers, “no, no.” Your heart tightens seeing him so tortured, knowing that all this anguish lurks beneath his stoic exterior every day, hiding so you can’t see it. “I should never have risked you like this.”

“You’ve never risked me,” you insist. “You’ve never done anything but protect me.”

“Until tonight,” he counters sharply, his eyes flashing open and fixing on yours with his typical intensity magnified. “It only takes one time. I should never have taken the risk.”

You can read the meaning behind his words — that he thinks he can’t trust himself to sleep next to you. The thought of giving him up, especially for this reason, is utterly unacceptable to you.

“I am not afraid of you,” you tell him firmly. Your words seem to affect him, because the tension in his shoulders lessens fractionally. You kiss his hands again and again, then rest your cheek against the roughened skin that you love so much.

“You should be,” he replies softly, the severity in his voice already decreasing. You can see the waves of exhaustion and sorrow washing over him, and you reach out your arms to enfold him again. This time, he accepts your embrace, folding his arms around your waist gently and resting his forehead in the crook of your neck. His skin is burning hot against yours, his arms still trembling.

“I could never be afraid of you,” you whisper. “I could never be afraid of the man who has protected me and cherished me. You have treated me so gently, so tenderly all these months. Never once has it crossed my mind to be frightened of your strength.” You press a kiss to his shoulder, then the side of his neck. “I take pride in having the heart of a man so strong, so capable. I know you would never hurt me.”

He shifts you in his arms, lifting you slightly to align more easily against his body. You can feel the deep, shuddering breath he draws while he thinks about your words. “I would never mean to hurt you,” he replies, “but in a dream, I cannot tell the difference between memory and reality.”

“I believe you would be able to keep yourself from truly hurting me,” you reassure him, threading your fingers into his hair at the base of his neck. He reacts to your touch with a hand sliding up your back to cradle you closer to his chest.

“And if I could not?” he whispers in response, his lips pressing against the sensitive skin of your neck. “If I should wake and find you dead by my hand?”

You shake your head, feeling tears spring to your eyes. Any fear you felt in the moment while he was holding you down is completely gone, lost in the tender embrace he holds you in now. “I do not believe the gods would allow such a thing to happen. Not to you. Not to us.”

He releases a shaky breath, one that glides across the exposed skin of your neck. He ducks his head to press a kiss to your collarbone, letting his lips linger there in a way that makes you shiver in his arms. “I am honored by your trust.”

You smile in response, dragging your fingertips lightly down his sides, over the deep scar that slices down his ribs. “I could never trust another man on earth as I do you,” you reply. “My only fear is that I may drown in the love I see in your eyes every day.”

He kisses your collarbone again in response, then moves upward slowly, pressing his lips to the soft hollow of your throat, then the underside of your jaw at your pulse point. Lifting you up effortlessly with his hands hooked under your arms, he repositions you so that you’re straddling him.

He then rests his fingertips, feather-light this time, against the sides of your neck. He strokes his fingers over each mark they left, then presses the softest of kisses against each one. Goosebumps break over your skin at the intimacy of his actions, of the wordless apology in every touch.

He lowers his forehead against yours, eyes closed as he breathes you in. “I do not know what blind fortune allowed me to find you,” he murmurs, touching his lips softly against the corner of your mouth, “but I thank them every moment for the gift of holding you like this.”

At your affectionate smile, he finally gives you the ghost of one in return, though his eyes are still haunted. You suspect that he will retain that haunted look for some time, no matter how many reassurances you offer.

As the intensity of the last while calms, he shifts you in his arms again, cradling you gently and laying you back against the pillows. He leans up on one arm, facing you, and you reach up a hand to stroke the side of his face. His expression softens again, giving you a look of utter fondness and devotion that makes your heart melt.

He leans forward slowly, as if asking your permission, and you gladly grant it. His lips touch yours with a gentle brush, then a bit more pressure. His tongue slides across yours in the way that always sends shivers up your spine, and one of his hands reaches up to stroke your hair, the other resting lightly on your waist. He kisses you once, twice, three times, each one more tender than the last, then lets his lips linger against yours for a moment more.

“I love you,” he says softly that you barely hear it, but rather feel it against your mouth.

“I love you,” you return, “more than I can say.”

One last kiss, and he finally lays down beside you, his face mere inches from yours and his arm folded across your waist. He takes his time in going back to sleep, choosing instead to gaze at your profile in the soft moonlight, but sleep finally takes him. And when you finally close your eyes, content to sleep peacefully beside him again, it’s to the sound of his even breathing and the warmth of his protective embrace.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

More of my fanfiction if you're so inclined :)

[fraugwinska]

Hey! Me again!

Could I get an Alastor x Female reader where she tells him she's pregnant, he's so stunned he thinks it a joke until she shows him the positive on the test and it shocks him to the core but after the initial shock he's overjoyed.

My dear jezebel <3 Thank you for being so patient! I took a few liberties from the ask, I really hope you don't mind! After a lot of rewrites and edits - I'm finally happy to share it with you! Thank you for the ask, my dearest! TW:Sickness&death-Light smut-Minors DNI-5.2k words

Autumn had always been your favorite season.

The most colorful of the four; from your bed you could always see various shades of red, orange, green and yellow, all mixed together to create a vibrant, warm impressionistic painting. Just looking at the bright shades outside had always made you smile.

There was also this peaceful ambiance around autumn that you could feel but not quite understand. Something so profound and yet ephemeral in a way.

"Should I close the window before I go?", Alice asked you, a sad smile on her face. Your favorite hospice nurse had spent her last shift before her holiday almost exclusively with you - somehow you both knew there wasn't much time left. The sickness that ate away at your body was unforgiving - you knew it was simply a matter of days now, and even that was generous. Alice must've sensed it, too.

"No, no.", you replied with a warm smile. "Leave it open. The night nurse can close it later."

Alice nodded, said her goodbyes and gave you a kiss on the head before exiting the room, carefully closing the heavy wooden door with a thud of painful finality. Breathing had become painful lately, but despite the sting you inhaled deeply, just to burn the smell of bristle leafs and warm wood into your memory. Right next to the memory of him.

Alastor.

Summoning him hadn't been easy, especially since you were bedridden and almost constantly monitored. Not only did you have to take special care of choosing the right night to be left unsupervised - you had to bribe Alice and make her believe it was her own idea to give you a few hours to be on your own, which you claimed to need desperately. The internet had been your biggest friend in the weeks before, preparing - you had used the time you had at your disposal to research on shady websites and occult forums who to summon, how to do the ritual and, in case he said no, which bargain to offer. And you chose Alastor.

It was the name that spoke to you the most - Unusual. Mature. Vintage. Mysterious. Powerful and yet gentle, in it's own way. 'Mans defender'. 'Avenger'. The more you read about him on dubious servers and obscure wiki's, the more you were sure it should be him. Still able to use your hands back then, in the chosen night you managed to follow all of the instructions perfectly, even while bound to your bed. When the living shadow appeared out of nowhere, twisting and contorting into the shape of a tall, handsome, dapper dressed demon, the tiny handheld radio you had in your hands slid from your weakened grip and your heart skipped a beat. As he stepped nearer, the perceived humanity of his appearance disappeared before your eyes - long, black fingers ending in red talons, small antlers sitting in between fluffy crimson-colored ears, razor-sharp teeth and blood-red irises shining with curiosity. He stopped just a foot away in front of your bed. As he began to talk, to introduce himself - as though being summoned by gravely sick human women were the norm - you stopped him with a raise of your hand, the action draining your already weakened body and mind.

"I know who you are. Alastor, the Radio Demon."

"My reputation precedes me, then!", he chimed, his voice pointed, melodic and so enchantingly and contradictorily full of life. His whole posture, his devious smile and the way his eyes glinted in the dim moonlight made it very clear that he was a dangerous creature, and yet, you felt strangely at ease.

"So, to what do I owe the pleasure of this summoning, my dear?"

You swallowed hard, knowing full well that if you wanted him to accept your deal, you needed to choose your words carefully.

"I... I am dying."

Alastor's grin twitched, but he said nothing, only tilted his head and waited for you to continue, hands folded behind his back.

"I've been sick my whole life, I...", you felt the need to explain, so that your offer wouldn't sound so... well, pitiful.

"Ever since I was born, I have been bound first to my crib, then to a bed, the hospital and now this hospice. I have never been allowed or even able to go to school, or make friends, or just... do things that children ought to do. Even though my life was always going to be short lived."

You could feel tears forming in your eyes, but blinked them away - you didn't want to cry in front of him, you felt pathetic as you were already. "I missed out on every milestone, every first experience a girl should have. First trip to a park, first day at school, first friend, first kiss, first... everything. And I'll miss out on so many more. I just want to have one normal thing, one 'first' before I die. One memory of a real and happy experience. Of something good."

"And what, pray tell, would that be?", he asked, a brow raised, his smile growing wider. He could probably hear the beating of your heart as you took a deep breath. This was it. Now or never.

"I want to lose my virginity."

The silence following your calmly stated confession was so thick that you could cut it with a knife. It took a while for Alastor to say something.

"Oh my, you really don't mince words, do you, darling?"

You shook your head.

"I have no time to waste. Every second counts."

"Believe me, little one, I'm quite... flattered that you'd go through the trouble of a summoning ritual for this... let's call it: venture. But... why me? Aren't there any men up here you would rather be with?"

"Have you looked at me?", you laughed bitterly. "I'm a sick, dying 20-something in a hospice bed. No man would ever so much as touch me. If I'd even get to meet anyone, since I can't get out of this bed anymore without a nurse. I have nothing to offer a partner anymore. No beauty, no future, not even money. I have only my soul. Please."

The last word came out as a whisper. Alastor's eyes glowed red in the growing darkness, his grin ever-present. He seemed to consider it for a moment, the sound of humming static the only sound in the room and you feared he might reject you.

"If I were to agree, would you truly be willing to pay the price for it? Your soul, darling, is a very precious thing. Do you know the implications of it's loss?"

You nodded.

"Yes. You can have it. It's not worth anything anyway."

Alastor stepped forward, his eyes locked with yours. He didn't sit down on the bed, instead he stood right beside you, bending over until his face was just inches from yours, the back of his hand lightly brushing your fringe out of your face. You could feel the heat radiating off his body, the scent of blood and something earthy, like wet soil or moss. He smelled like a forest in autumn.

"It is worth quite a bit, actually. More than you can imagine, I'd wager.", his voice was quiet, almost unfiltered and utterly beautiful. "But I can see you are dead set on it - Pardon the wordplay."

His sharp claw pressed into your skin, eliciting a gasp. He followed the curve of your cheek to your chin, lifting it to better access the side of your neck, just under your jaw. Your skin broke out in goosebumps because for the first time in your life, you felt a touch that was not clinical, not meant to treat you or wastefully bide you more time. This touch was gentle and purposeful. Sensual, maybe. A soft sigh escaped you against your will.

Alastor let out a hum that was not entirely unhappy, before bringing his face dangerously close to yours. You could feel the ends of his fluffy hair tickling your face, the tip of his nose lightly brushing against your skin.

"A happy memory, you say. One satisfying experience in return for your soul. I am certainly not usually known for my kindness, dear.", he muttered against the skin of your cheek, before turning towards your lips. So close. Your heart was beating as loud and as fast as it could, making you dizzy. "But I think we have ourselves a deal."

The golden hour has passed, turning bright orange light into fading blue to black. And the air was turning colder. The memory of that night was the only thing you thought about as you slowly felt death approaching.

The way his lips felt against your mouth, his tongue and the sweet taste he left on your lips that still lingered whenever you ran yours across them, recalling the sensation just once more. He had been gentle, patient, always asking and never assuming or forceful. He made sure you were comfortable before exploring you, careful in the places he touched, mindful in tasting you, praising you for the sounds you made. He allowed you to do your share of exploring, too, and although he wasn't human you found his body still wonderfully, beautifully male, no matter his thin, soft taupe fur and his many, shimmering scars. The memory of the moment when he had finally filled you, tender and slow, was as much sweet pain as it was blissful pleasure, and you found solace in his warmth and the steady, rhythmic pace of him moving inside you as you spilled his name, over and over again until he spent himself inside you, bodies deeply connected. It was hard for you to believe that all of it had been actually true, and not just one big fever dream your dying mind had cooked up to send you off gently when Alice woke you from your sleep later that night, wondering aloud why you didn't turn off the little, handheld radio on the floor that was still playing soft jazz music.

But the little, red and blue marks on your collarbones and the one red-and-black strand of hair you had found on your pillow were telltale signs that everything had been indeed real, and you made sure every detail was etched into your heart, into your body and into your skin. It was, and would remain forever, the happiest moment of your entire life.

'I hope my soul is worth enough...' you thought as the coldness finally embraced you, tears running freely down your cheeks now, but the smile on your face was wide and warm, and the last thing you heard before falling into your final sleep was the gentle hum of a breeze that brought in the smell of earth and rain and leaves.

Alastor had no need for sleep. He usually didn't spend his nights sitting in his favorite chair, motionless, listening to music. He was far too busy, too full of life and plans and energy to sit around and just wait for morning. And yet, there he was, sitting and brooding for the last month, every night, his ears tuned in on the low, static-y noise coming from the old-fashioned radio he was holding. A radio eerily similar to hers.

'How did it come to this?', he wondered for the thousandth time, like a broken record. 'Why did I do it?'

He couldn't fathom the reason for his actions that night, why he had given in to the strange, frivolous request of the frail young woman. Why he had agreed to take her virginity, of all things, in exchange for her soul. Granted, she wasn't the first to offer him that, not by far. But usually, the soul was the last thing a sinner offered, after a great many things of lesser value had been already offered and declined in return. It was, in essence, the most desperate measure, taken only by those who had nothing else to lose.

And yet, she had promised him her soul in the very beginning, treating it not as a valuable bargaining chip, but as an expendable object. A thing without use or worth. He didn't know what had intrigued him so much that night. She had been sickly and fragile, her skin almost translucent in the pale light, and yet there was a spark in her eye. Determination, maybe. Her voice had been strong, if quiet, and her smile, although sad, was still familiarly bright. The way she spoke and her body language had made it clear that she had been not as much afraid of him, despite her frail and vulnerable position, as she had been anxious about his response. She was clearly clever and resolute, despite her lack of personal experience. Otherwise, she wouldn't have been able to follow through the summoning ritual.

"I have nothing to offer a partner anymore. No beauty, no future, no money. O only have my soul. Please."

He couldn't remember a single instance where someone had begged him with the simple word please and he gave into it. And yet, he had accepted her plea - The whole of her soul, in exchange for a meager, single moment of ridiculous passion. The mere thought had repulsed him before: Body on body, blunt thumps of fleshes, debauched obscenities... it was something that had never held his interest. He felt like it was something unrefined and animalistic, something he had always regarded as unnecessary and obsolete. Until then.

Her body had responded so eagerly, so sensitive, so ready to his touches. It had been clear she hadn't lied about her virginity, and yet her eagerness, her fearlessness had surprised him. Acting solely based on instinct and the morals he was brought up with, no real experience of his own himself, he had tried to be as careful and gentle as he could, and somehow, her inexperience had made it... easier. She was not expecting anything in terms of skill, and thus he had to guide her through the process, allowing him to set the pace and giving him ample time to react to her reactions. Sweet gasps, subtle tremors, faint flushes - all of which had told him how she had felt, what had been pleasurable and what had been uncomfortable. He had been able to take his time and make sure she enjoyed herself. It had been fascinating and even... pleasurable for him, too.

Despite the obvious pain, she had kept her eyes open, watching his face intently as they connected. He had felt the warmth and the tension around him, and her little, breathy gasps had been such pleasant sounds that when she had finally found her release, it had triggered his own, foreign as it had been. She had sighed his name in pure bliss, and in that moment he had felt as powerful and as satisfied as the night he had gained his title as Radio Demon.

And when the deed had been done, the girl had smiled so serenely, he was sure he had rarely ever seen anything that could rival her in beauty.

Alastor shifted uncomfortably at that thought, trying to will away the memory and the sensation that the mere thought of her smile invoked.

It had taken a few minutes, but eventually he had collected himself and put his clothes back on. Her eyes had followed him, the spark back in them and even brighter than before, her smile not faltering even when her tired lids had drooped down, slowly lulling her to sleep. Alastor had stood there, in the small, plain hospice room, watching her for a while, a strange feeling in his chest. The deal hadn't been solidified by a handshake, her soul not yet firmly bound to him and the contract void if not officially sealed, but he couldn't bring himself to wake her. Something had stopped him.

The memory of her face, pale and beautiful, smiling so peacefully even in her slumber, made the corners of his lips twitch. She would've made a magnificent addition to his collection of souls. And yet, and yet... He had decided then and there that her soul would find its way to him, eventually. But not through the proposed deal. So, he had left, the exchange unfulfilled, the pact broken, turning on the small radio she had let slip onto the floor just as he heard her caretaker returning to check on her.

'Oh, how the mighty have fallen.', he mused bitterly, a small laugh escaping his lips.

"Alastor?"

Charlie's voice was a mix of concern and curiosity, muffled by the thick, wooden door of his room. She sounded worried, probably wondering why he had excused himself from the hotel's interactions more and more for the past weeks. He was about to ignore her, not in the mood to talk to anyone, especially not her, persistent thing that she was, but when her soft knock followed her call, his smile widened tightly and his eyes flashed red.

"Charlie, dear, I'm afraid I'm not available at the moment.", he called out, his tone a bit sharper than usual.

"Sorry, but...", the princess sounded hesitant, and he could hear her shuffle awkwardly outside. "It's just... There is someone in the lobby, wanting to speak to you. It seems... important."

He got up from his chair with an annoyed sigh and switched off the radio, straightened his clothes and smoothed out his hair and bow tie with one swipe. Whatever business matter was brought forward, Alastor didn't feel like discussing it. The smile he wore was razor sharp and dark, a result of his annoyance and brooding mood, and yet he couldn't bring himself to feign his cheery personality just quite yet. Maybe this mystery visitor would be a suitable punching bag to let off some of that steam.

When Alastor finally opened the door and walked down to the lobby next to a flustered looking Charlie, his breath hitched involuntarily and he froze mid-stride. Charlie stumbled at the sudden lack of motion next to her, the deafening static sound and the chime-like tuning of a radio startling her so much she flinched away from him.

"H-Hey Al!?", she called in shock, "Are you okay?"

He didn't move, didn't even react - his attention was solely focused on the figure standing at the front-desk, who, just a moment ago, had talked to Husker before turning around upon hearing him.

Hell kept her skin white and almost translucent in it's spite, but granted her soft, shimmering silvery fur in it's mercy. Her frame wasn't thin and frail anymore, she looked plush and healthy, soft curves where there had been nothing more than skin and bone before. Keeping almost all of her human features intact, the small, round ears protruding from her hair, the pink-tipped nose and the long and slender tail were definitely characteristics of a dormouse, their ends almost silver and soft-looking. Her eyes were of the same gentle color that he remembered, and when her lips spread into a sad, tender smile his breath was stolen away completely.

It was the same smile. The very one he hadn't been able to purge from his mind, and most likely never would.

"Alastor."

The sound of her voice, quiet and melodic as it had been weeks before, felt like an invisible touch that pulled the air out of him. Not enough to suffocate him, but he was still reeling none the less.

"So you finally succumbed, it seems..."

His usual bravado was absent, his voice lacked it's sharp, jovial tone, sounding more like he was actually talking. Charlie could do little more but watch with widened eyes, seemingly unable to fathom the scene right in front of her.

"What are you talking about, Alastor? How do you know...", the princess spoke carefully and uncertain, her eyes wandering from one demon to another, but she was quickly interrupted, not by him, but by...

"It's a long story better told another time, Miss Charlie.", she said with a genuine smile on her face, still not able to take her eyes off Alastor. She took a few tentative steps towards him, careful, but certain in her movement, a confidence about her that hadn't been there before. Her head tilted in an enigmatic way and she spoke again, this time solely directed at him.

"I'm truly sorry to impose. But I was hoping we could talk... privately."

Alastor nodded mutely, not able to think clearly, before taking a deep breath and straightening his back to tower over her once again. Husk seemed to notice his shift in composure, raising a brow when he passed him by on his way back behind the bar, noticing the strangely satisfied looking smile on Alastor's face that was as unnerving and frightening as always, but with a different tint that even Husk must've trouble placing guessing by the suspicious look that fell over the cat's face.

"Of course, my dear, my office will suffice. If you'll excuse us, Charlotte? We'll be only a short while."

He didn't wait for her response but took his guest by her arm and guided her past an astonished Husk and clearly confused Charlie, leading the girl down the hall and to his office, the air between them thick with something undefinable, and neither of them dared to speak until the heavy mahogany door fell shut, effectively cutting off all outside interference.

Her cheeks were flushed when she stepped closer towards him. The tips of his claws brushed against her fringe, following the curve of her soft ear, across the back of her delicate neck to pluck a strand of her hair, pulling it towards him and running the silky fiber between two fingers and over the pad of his thumb, bringing it to his lips with a deep, pleased inhale.

She looked up at him, her smile shy but hopeful.

"You remember me.", she said with a chuckle, her voice a bit higher, her ears twitching and her tail swaying behind her, showing her emotions all too easily. Alastor nodded, not letting go of her hair just yet.

"How could I not, dear. It's not common for me to leave a contract unsettled, you know."

"I had a feeling that might've been the case, since it took me so long to find you.", she said quietly. "So, my soul..."

"... is still yours, yes."

She wasn't looking at him, directly. Her gaze went over his suit, to his hands and cane, then back to the floor.

"Why?", she asked, a hint of confusion and hurt in her voice, her silken hair slipping from his fingers.

"Why didn't you claim it? You had every right, after all. I offered, you agreed and..."

Alastor didn't speak, couldn't speak. The answer was right on the tip of his tongue, and yet he wasn't sure if he wanted to share it. It felt... strange, and foreign, and not quite comfortable. But it was undeniably true, now - with her in front of him - clearer than any time in the last weeks in his chair, each night, in front of the fireplace.

He wanted her. Not just her soul. Her. So, he settled on silence and a half-truth, instead.

"It wasn't the right time, dear."

Her face turned to him, her eyes searching his. He felt exposed, like her eyes were piercing him.

"And now...?"

"That remains to be seen. Why are you here?", he countered, stepping back to put a more comfortable distance between them.

"I came to see you, because..." She swallowed hard, and Alastor watched her throat, the soft swell of her breasts under her modest blouse, the slight rise of her belly. "When I arrived in hell, I felt... weird. I thought it was because of all the changes, this new body and... generally being here. But it didn't go away, this.... feeling. I made friends with a lovely imp couple, they took me in after I fell. The wife, Millie, took me to a doctor because she got worried when I couldn't stop throwing up..."

Her face grew hot, a flush spreading across her cheeks, her ears folding back against her head.

"Alastor, I'm pregnant."

A loud bang rang through the hallway as Alastor dropped his cane and a deafening feedback noise filled the room. For the first time in what must have been decades, his face betrayed him completely, the smile ripping at the sewn edges as it dropped violently. He felt dizzy and his head was spinning.

"Impossible.", he breathed, the word almost getting stuck in his throat. The very notion was ridiculous, unheard of - clearly that must be a crude joke. Alastor started to laugh, though sounding not as amused and booming as he would've hoped, but more hysterical than anything else.

She stayed silent, looking at him with sad, but serious and almost pleading eyes as the truthfulness of her confession began to sink in and his laughter slowly died. He took a tentative step forward, a million questions running through his head, the sheer amount overwhelming his usually so precise mind.

"So, a month ago, it...", he stopped, feeling the corners of his mouth pull wider.

"...yes. The doctor told me there are only a handful similar cases like this known since hell was created... The circumstances are 'too specific' and it normally takes a vast amount of intimate interactions' between a hellbound sinner and a living, fertile human he said... Seems like you knocked me up with one round, buster." She wrung her hands, her smile forced and unsure. "Listen, Alastor... I know it sounds impossible. I mean, I couldn't believe it at first when he told me so I understand you can't, too... but I don't expect anything, I really don't. I just... I wanted to see you again, and-and you deserve to know, and..."

"Darling, hush.", Alastor interrupted, a sense of clarity taking hold of his chaotic mind. He had never felt a desire for a family, not in his lifetime nor in his death. Partners were liabilities and a distraction, relationships nuisances if they strayed beyond the borders of business or at the very most friendly aquaintances. He had no need for things like these in the past, looking down on people desperate to seek out partners, claiming to be lonely when in truth they were just weak or simply starving for a touch of the 'opposite sex' to make up for their own inadequacy.

Now, faced with the reality of fatherhood in a matter of minutes and the prospect of his life being bound to another - one who, undoubtedly, bore his child, no less - Alastor would be lying if he had claimed a part of him didn't absolutely reel at the prospect. A responsibility greater than his own had just fallen into his lap - a vulnerability he never asked for and certainly didn't expect.

But.

A part of him would come into the world, no matter whether it would look human, or demonic like him, or whatever strange combination of them both: This child would be proof of him. Him, not anyone else. There would be a person dependent on him for guidance and protection, a legacy he would be allowed to leave, a lineage that could one day claim that he, Alastor, had been the founding cause. His legacy. His blood and his seed had created another being against all rules and logic, an offspring, maybe a girl, maybe it would resemble him, or her, or even... his mother.

Despite the incredulity and the sheer panic the revelation brought, the longer he looked at the tiny dormouse in front of him, the more he realized how similar her traits were to his own mother's. Soft, but determined. Sad, but brave. Young but aged.

No, this hadn't been just some fleeting fling - Alastor had to believe in fate, given what she told him. There had been a reason why he didn't seal the deal that night. Why he had agreed to her request so easily. The more Alastor thought about the potential of a shared offspring, along with a loyal partner on his side, about the what-ifs and could-bes, the more appealing and pleasant the future appeared. She was carrying a being he created, one that had his essence – All the more stronger his grin widened, stretching so far it caused his cheeks to ache, but his blooming glee knew no bounds. He saw, to his own surprise, not a weakness or vulnerability.

But his greatest achievement.

With a laugh, this time sincere and booming and loud instead of hysterical, he picked her up on her waist, knocking the air out of her in a gasp, and swung her around several times.

"O-oh! Oh my goodness!", she stuttered, eyes wide and brows furrowed. "Alastor, calm down!"

"Oh, no no no, I simply can't! Dear, do you have any idea what a marvel you have wrought!?", he exclaimed in delight, setting her back down and bringing both hands up to her cheeks. "We've created a magnificent abomination!"

Her head shook as she chuckled, still nervous but with an edge of relief in her voice. "That's certainly one way of saying it. But... are... are you saying that... you are okay with it? That you..."

"What, dear?", he cooed, her big eyes shining hopefully as her ears twitched curiously. His chest swelled with affection, and he gently squeezed her cheeks between his hands.

"Does a daddy on your side scare you, darling?"

"N-No-oh."

The title invoked a peculiar reaction, and he made a mental note to use it again soon enough, as her cheeks flushed in a dusty rose. Alastor felt an unfamiliar and somehow primal pleasure at the sight of it, a surge of happiness in his chest, the warmth of it nearly too much. He pulled her face against his, smothering her with a kiss. He wasn't familiar with such embraces, but she felt like she was specifically molded to fit perfectly into him, her ears flicking with every beat of her racing heart.

There were tears welling in her beautiful eyes, and as he kissed her cheeks and brushed them away with his thumbs. Oh yes, Alastor was filled with a new kind of giddy excitement.

"Come on, dear, let's not waste time to spread the good news!", he exclaimed, unable to reign his euphoric mood, and before she could comment on his actions, he reached out and lifted her over his shoulder in one fluid movement, ignoring her startled squawk. The look of utter bewilderment on her face almost made him break out into more laughter, but he was already out the door, ready to take his child's mother, who was, without a doubt in his mind, bound to him forever with a force much stronger than any deal he could've made, downstairs to tell the news to his fellow friends, who would have no choice but to learn what a truly dangerous deal looked like.

[mattatouilletkachuk]

Can you combine 8 & 9 from your off-season prompt list for John? 😂

An Abrupt Wake Up || John Marino

Prompt: 8. “You snore. Loudly.” & 9. “I don’t understand how I slept so good last night.”

WC: 1k+

A/N: I know I’m a slow writer but I had to post something for John’s birthday!

Summary: Making your relationship official during the hockey season was amazing, however, the off-season sheds some light on some things you didn’t know about your boyfriend previously.

Despite officially dating John for five months, now. You had never actually seen him get a good night's sleep. You spent the night over at his place and he’s slept over at yours so by now you thought that you understood his bedtime routine and weird sleeping idiosyncracies.

You were wrong.

For some reason, it hadn’t occurred to you that John would sleep differently during the off-season than during the regular hockey season. He had always seemed like such a light sleeper. Coming back from a game or a roadie and just passing out and waking up a few hours later still in the same position he fell asleep in. This Summer you had quickly come to realize that he wasn’t getting really sleeping, if he was getting anything it was a power nap.

You had only come to this realization this morning as you watched him sleep and listened to his air horn of a snore. When he invited you to come home with him to Boston this Summer, you thought it would be peaceful and relaxing. There wouldn’t be any nerves because you had already met his family during the season. You couldn’t have predicted that your eyes would be bloodshot and that you’d have bags under your eyes after the first night. It wasn’t your preferred method of staying awake all night because of John, in fact, you’d rather stay awake with John, but that wasn’t the case.

Your eyes shifted over to the clock on the bedside table and you realize that now would usually be the time that you would wake up and get ready for the day. Instead, you wanted to grab earplugs and hide under the thick comforter and sleep until the sun went down but because that wasn’t an option at the moment you decided that John would just have to be awake with you.

There wasn’t much thought put into it before you leaned over the side of the bed and grabbed one of the decorative pillows and came back up and hit him in the face with it. Had you not been so grumpy from your lack of sleep you probably would have felt bad or at the very least chucked the pillow across the room to get rid of the evidence.

With one final deep and guttural snore, John sat upright in a panic, blinking his eyes several times before they finally adjusted and landed on you.

“Did something happen? What’s wrong?” You almost felt bad.

You shrugged your shoulders and adjusted your pillow before you snuggled into it. “It’s time to wake up. You said you wanted to hit the gym early.”

John rubbed his eyes and looked at the clock, similar to the way that you did you few moments ago. As he stretched you used it as an opportunity to steal some of the comforter that he was using.

“I actually feel well-rested,” his voice was deep and heavy and you usually would have pulled him back into bed for some morning fun before he went off to the gym but now you just wanted him to go lift weights or run on a treadmill for a little while while you slept the day away. “I don’t understand how I slept so good last night.“

John’s last few words made you peek your head out from under the blankets and finally take in your boyfriend. His curly hair which you loved so much was a mess and he was rubbing at his eyes. Despite your previous frustration and your current exhaustion, your heartbeat sped up as you looked at him. For the first time in months, he did, honestly, look well-rested and although it was at the cost of your own sleep you still smiled knowing that this Summer you were probably going to see a new side to John. A side that the hockey season had no room for.

No more words were said between the two of you as you fell lightly in and out of sleep and John got ready to go to the gym. It was only after he laced up his shoes and grabbed his gym bag that he came over to give you a kiss goodbye. You smiled softly at the touch but immediately frowned as you remembered something.

“You snore. Loudly.“ It’s quiet and had John not been inches away from your face he probably wouldn’t have heard it but he needed to know. You weren’t about to let him leave and have him be clueless.

“What?” Confusion was written all over his face as he stood up. It wasn’t hurt or anger but you wondered if the confusion was because of your timing or if he really didn’t know he snored. Surely he had to know, an atomic bomb would be quieter than him.

You pulled the covers up to your chin and closed your eyes as you said, “You have got to give a person a warning when you snore that loud. It’s common courtesy. It’s like if you offered me orange juice and I said ‘yes’ but you gave me a glass of orange juice but with pulp.”

When he remained silent you cracked an eye open to look at him. He found it humorous and even while you were close to falling asleep, you were also itching to hit him with a pillow again. “Warning is all I’m asking for because last night I learned that when you aren’t playing hockey you moonlight as Thomas the Train.”

John’s laughter filled the bedroom. It wasn’t just the sleeping that felt different. It was his entire being, he slept harder, laughed louder, and in general seemed lighter. You loved this man but you bit your tongue. It wasn’t the right time for you to confess your feelings. Not right now.

“While I’m out I’ll pick up some noise-canceling headphones or earbuds for you,” he finally says as he leans down again to kiss you softly on the lips.

You give him one last peck before pulling back and smiling up at him with what probably seems like a dreamy expression but you couldn’t care less.

“Okay, I’ll see you later, Johnny.”

“I’ll see you later, baby”

[bellepeppergirl]

Radahn Didn't Want This

I've seen a lot of fan content lately about Radahn and Miquella consensually becoming one another's consort, and while I can somewhat understand how people came to this conclusion, I do not believe it to be accurate. I do not think Radahn wanted to be Miquella's Lord nor Consort.

For starters, I feel as though it would completely go against what Radahn is. He idolizes the past; the eras of Godfrey and Radagon where they fought wars unending in the name of the Erdtree and the Golden Order. He stylizes himself after them, brandishing lions and his red hair to show his connection. I do not believe he would want Miquella's age. Not only would that age be against what Godfrey and Radagon fought for, but it would also likely be an age too peaceful for Radahn.

Secondly, we know Radahn learned gravity magic so that he could fight the stars, holding them in place. Why did he do that? We didn't know, but we are informed that Radahn has to die and this has to be undone so that Ranni can become a god, because freezing the stars also froze fate. I think there's two reasons he did this; to stop Ranni from becoming a god, and to stop himself from becoming Miquella's consort. He knew Miquella wanted him, he knew Miquella had the ability to sway anyone over, so he seized the stars to ensure it couldn't happen. To remedy this, Miquella sent out Malenia and her Cleanrot Knights during the Shattering to defeat Radahn, thus stopping his gravity magic and allowing Miquella's plan to go through. I think this is also why he's still alive after Malenia nuked him; he is absolutely determined to not be Miquella's Lord; to not lose his own control. The determination is what keeps him going despite the fact that his brain is literally rotted away.

Then we have the fact that Miquella is not exactly a stranger to doing things nonconsensually. The entire party in the DLC was brainwashed by him, including Ansbach, who desperately wanted revenge against Miquella. He also took advantage of Mohg and used him to gain access to the Realm of Shadow and revive Radahn. Miquella doesn't believe anything he is doing is wrong. He is permanently a child after all, so he is naive and believes that, regardless of what you want, what he wants is more important because, in his eyes, it's what is right and what is going to fix the world. Miquella throws out various parts of himself, including his love, and I think that this could also imply that he is trying to rid himself of the guilt he feels for taking advantage of people, including Radahn.

We also can have our hearts stolen during the final battle of the DLC and, when this happens, we do the Let Us Go Together emote, which strongly resembles you reaching out for someone's hand as if to marry them, or be their consort. A possible link to the fact that this is what happened to Radahn.

And speaking of the fight, halfway through it, Radahn begins to glow red. This stops, however, when Miquella arrives and climbs atop Radahn's back, beginning the second phase. During this phase, Miquella's placement on Radahn's back and shoulder greatly resembles Serosh's position of Godfrey. Serosh's purpose was to hold Godfrey back; to prevent him from acting as Horah Loux so that he would be more suiting to Marika's goals and desires. I think a similar thing is happening here; Radahn is breaking free and Miquella is taking position upon his back and using his powers of seduction to keep that rage, that desire for freedom and status quo, all contained, lest his plans be foiled.

Radahn doesn't even speak during the fight and I really think that, had he been there of his own volition, he would have at least said something. No, it is only ever Miquella who speaks. Not only during the fight, but also during the cutscene at the end. It is Miquella who makes a vow with Radahn. Never once do we hear Radahn's side or answer, only that Miquella wants him to be his Lord.

In fact, if I remember correctly, the original Japanese text in the description of Promised Consort Radahn's weapons straight up say he doesn't want to be Miquella's Lord. I will say to take this with a grain of salt though, as I played the game in English, do not speak Japanese, and do not remember the source of this information. But, given all that I've said, and how common mistranslations actually are in these games, I am still inclined to believe it.

Radahn does not want to be Miquella's Lord. Radahn wants things to stay the same; he wants the era of the Erdtree to stay because the Erdtree had many enemies and it took many wars and genocides to ensure that it rose to power and stayed in power. Radahn stopped fate, likely in an attempt to keep himself free of Miquella's poisoned words, and his determination to be free of the fate Miquella threw upon him is what kept him alive all those years after the Battle of Aeonia. Miquella doesn't understand Radahn's resistance, nor does he accept it. He believes his end justify any means, no matter who gets hurt or who he has to manipulate, just as Marika did before him.

[thedinanshiral]

Bellanaris.

After witnessing Solas' regrets through his murals in The Veilguard many wondered, what exactly was his relationship with Mythal?

Even the Veilguard members had questions and discussed about it.

Spoilers for everything. Goes with this one too, if you want more of Solas analysis from me.

He followed her without question -or reserving the ones he had- and maybe reconsidered that love in their friendship when her crimes with the evanuris outweighed what Solas could stand, when he asked her to run away with him and she declined, and by the time she listened and tried to stop the others it was sadly too late. When Solas started his rebellion he was already carving his own path away from her, but their love was still present and it was because of that love that he warned her, and that she finally decided to listen. She may have been his dearest friend and he did everything for her. When he writes to Ghilan'nain and says "you would not be the first to sacrifice your morals for love" he was talking about himself, he was referencing his personal experience because that's what he did with Mythal.

I'll be blunt, i don't think they were romantically entagled. It's been mentioned in past games that the ancient elvhen related with each other on different levels that present Thedosians may struggle to comprehend. Now knowing they were originally spirits helps understanding things a bit better; spirits are beings of raw, intense emotions, whatever they feel they do so on a much higher degree, and whatever words they used to communicate it once translated fail to convey their real, full meaning.

I think Solas and Mythal were friends, but friendship for them was felt much strongly. There was love between them but not in the sense we'd imagine it now.

They were not equals, there was an imbalance neither were truly aware of until Solas rebelled and maybe then he started understanding their differences and from there his feelings for her changed, as he changed, his purpose twisted from Wisdom meant to guide in times of war, into a rebel leader fighting in what were supposed to be times of peace. He went from being a friend to becoming the enemy.

The romance with the Inquisitor may have been a last minute addition to the game (I have my doubts, it's too perfect and fits too well with everything to have been improvised) but it makes perfect sense only a female elf Inquisitor can sway him like that..because it's reminiscent of his relationship with Mythal, that past bond coming back to haunt him except this time the roles are a bit reversed: he's the powerful god, she's the simple mortal. But Lavellan is far from being a simple creature and she reminds Solas of all he ever loved and cared about and changes a terrible broken world into something that can be fixed, She turns his despair into hope, the fact she came out in such a way from the same world he broke tells him something may still be saved..

In both instances Solas finds himself in the service of a powerful elven woman in a position of leadership trying to save the world. But with Lavellan there's no protocols, there's no real hierarchy, with Lavellan they're more like equals, they're partners. There's no master and servant, there's people on equal standing fighting together for a common goal.

Lavellan becomes Solas' partner in a way Mythal could not and would never be able to.

Mythal was possibly Solas' first relationship, whatever label you'd like to apply there, a loyal friendship sustained mainly on his one-sided devotion to her that he eventually grew out of. While Lavellan is real, realized love, a relationship that may have started out of necessity, finding mutual respect that turned it into friendship, later developing further into something both wanted and neither could ignore. There's no one-sidedness with Lavellan, there's only mutual desire, this love unlike the past one is overwhelming, requited and wanted. Lavellan makes the first move, she's the one that isn't running away and in fact, in Trespasser and later finally in Veilguard, she shows him she's the one willing to run away with him. She's the one willing to do for him the sacrifices he once made for Mythal, even when she doesn't have to, when there's no ancient bond, mandate or obligation of any kind. Lavellan is willing to be with him out of her own free will and for the love she holds for him.

For roleplaying and replayability it would have been great if Solas could have been romanceable by more Inquisitors, but by his nature and personal history it makes absolute perfect sense that only a female elf could. Now we know he was a spirit and spirits are at their core very simple and fixed creatures, interestingly ironic considering they come from a realm where nothing is fixed. Solas isn't just stuck in his ways, he's a spirit! There's a limit to what he can understand and experience, even if he's a spirit of wisdom and is very knowledgeable, his nature is still limited (as we all are), his focus is singular, and a female elf Inquisitor fits right into that singular focus of his. Making other races romanceable for him would have broken that and it would have taken away from the Thedas pattern and his personal pattern as well.

He left the fade to enter the physical world because an elvhen woman he loved asked him to, and he followed her loyal to a fault until he had to break away from her when she chose an abusive status quo over his desperate cry for freedom and justice.

He destroys the world as a result in a desperate attempt to save it, and wakes up thousands of years later to find one person who shows him something of all he loved lives on and in doing so gives him purpose. Spirits need and crave purpose and Lavellan gives him just that.

He falls in love, something he could have never foreseen, an event completely out of all his calculations, but the pattern is shifting, there's no longer an evident imbalance, he's treated as an equal, even when she learns who he is she still talks to him like he's just the man she loves.

And on his lowest point when he's about to repeat a past mistake and destroy a world trying to save it, he returns to the Fade accompanied by the elvhen woman that loved him back with a devotion he was never shown before. Some may argue they're not equals, because he's Fen'Harel and she's a mortal elf he lied to for the better part of a year, that they're not equals because he always kept that secret from her and maybe took advantage of her affection to get what he wanted. But they are equals in the end in the sense that they feel the same way, and are capable of the same sacrifices for each other, and their respect is mutual in equal measure.

Solas may have been mistaken, but had their circumstances been different you know he would have stayed with her, as he wanted to. Most of his dinan'shiral is fueled by monumental guilt, regret, shame and a hurt sense of duty and that's what prevented him from giving in to his feelings for Lavellan, just as he understood Lavellan wouldn't abandon the Inquisition for him, and wouldn't just let him burn the world without opposition. Because Lavellan also has duties she's devoted too as much as she's devoted to him. They're an unstoppable force and unmovable object clashing against their will and if it weren't for the people around them you know a Lavellan that is on equal standing with Solas would have confronted him, maybe neither would have succeeded, maybe they would have died in each other's arms if it came to it.

But fortunately it didn't have to end that way, and yes, I'm sure Solas knows too well he doesn't deserve her (because she's too good), that she doesn't deserve him (because he's such a mess), but Lavellan has always been there to prove him wrong and he welcomes that with a smile.

I headcanon my Gallia Lavellan would be a spirit of Devotion. Wisdom and Devotion make an odd pair, but she's Devotion all around, mostly for him, their love that endured everything, but she's also devoted to the truth, to their causes, to the people, to Thedas, she's devoted to doing the right thing and to doing it as best as possible; she's devoted to continue learning about the world, protecting those she love, and those who have no one to look after them.

She does all that by following him into the Fade, by becoming the fixed point in his life, his North, his Anchor, to remind him what should be done, not only what must be done, to remind him of what truly matters. She doesn't simply follow him into the Fade out of love for him but out of love for the world, which is another thing they have in common.

Lavellan is truly his match, and Solas is aware of it in a way that makes him more ashamed for everything he's done and feel more undeserving of what is yet to come for him by her side.

I don't think Wisdom turned to Pride, I think Wisdom became Pragmatism in the wars, later turned to Regret for most of his life and through Devotion's love and perseverance he returned to Wisdom with a renewed love for life. Maybe he's become Love now, love for her, love for the world he's protecting, love for his people, and for all that love he decided to sacrifice himself, his own freedom, to spend in eternity with his one true love.

And for once in his very long and troubled life i think this time he made a choice he does not regret.

[redrose10]

Hi, I hope you are well! I really enjoy your work and I always look forward to new pieces 🫶🏻 please may I request a Yoongi ff 13 (soul mates), trope 5 (unrequited love), prompt 34 (so I guess this is the end) and 53 (not the right place, not the right time) please make him mean 😭

If the request is too difficult or weird, please feel free to skip it, thank you 💜

Hi! I hope this is okay!

< Maybe In the Next Life >

Warnings: Swearing, slightly suggestive, very minor mention of the scooter incident, being sold off as a servant

Soulmates, Unrequited Love

#34 “So I guess this is the end.”

#53 “Not the right place, not the right time.”

*******************************************************

Everyone has different goals in life. Some want to be famous, some want to run a successful business, some want to travel the world. Some don’t want any of that and have their own ideas of happiness. The one goal that everyone has in common though, is to find their soulmate or so you thought. It’s the only way to achieve eternal peace once and for all. Otherwise you have to relive your life over and over and over, each time searching for your soulmate and trying to fall in love. But…your soulmate has to also fall in love with you too.

Every time you were reborn and you grew into an adult the memories of all of your past lives would come back to you. You had seen many horrible things over the years. Wars, famines, diseases, and natural disasters all took their toll on you. Every time you remembered all of the family and friends you had lost it broke you down a little bit more each time. It was getting to be too much.

The one person you knew would be a constant in every life was your soulmate because you were destined to find the same person every time until the two of you fell in love with each other.

You can still remember the first time you met him. It was your first life and you were sixteen years old as was he. In a spot of desperation your parents had sold you to his family as a servant. He was a part of a very noble family. His father was the king making him the prince, you never even suspected that he could possibly be your soulmate, but one evening you were tasked with helping him bathe and dress for the annual ball when you saw it. On his chest was a small faint tattoo of a heart. Every time you touched it the ink would darken. Just like the tattoo you had would do the same when he delicately ran his fingers across it. Immediately he rejected you. He scoffed because how could Prince Min Yoongi, the future king, have the soulmate of a lowly servant girl. You spent the rest of that life living as his servant, watching as he brought woman after woman into his palace to run his hands over their tattoos hoping they would darken at his touch even though he knew it was useless, finally he’d resort to just using them as a sexual release instead while you were forced to look on.

The rest of your lives have been filled with much of the same. Eventually running into Yoongi not even needing to check the tattoo any more because you already knew. He was always born into a position of power. Princes, emperors, heirs to fortunes. He always rejected you because you were never good enough. There was that one time you thought he might’ve been falling for you, but he ended up getting a bout of cholera that he unfortunately passed away from, so it didn’t matter any ways. Other than that one time you were always a nobody in his eyes and not worthy of his love.

Even now in the life you were living currently. He was an idol. A kpop superstar. Often deemed a member of the biggest boyband in the world. Wealthy. Powerful. Looked up to by many. And you…you were nothing of that sort.

The thing about soulmates is that you can’t go searching for each other. Everything has to happen organically. So even though you knew of Yoongi and you could’ve gone to a meet & greet or a concert, you had to just let destiny run its course and bring the two of you together.

Which of course it did. You were working in an office building entering numbers into a computer all day. It was one of the most boring jobs you’d ever had but it paid the bills and had good benefits. On your way to work this morning you stopped to grab a coffee but instead of your usual caramel latte you also grabbed an iced americano for your new co worker. You manager had informed you last week that you were going to be getting a new desk partner. They wouldn’t tell you who or why, but when you walked into work with your coffees in hand you found out exactly why.

Yoongi was sitting in the seat next to yours, already typing away at his computer. He was fulfilling his military service as a social service agent and apparently was being moved to your department. You had a feeling it had something to do with a recent incident of his, but you weren’t going to bring that up to find out for sure.

You dropped the coffee down in front of him but before you could even speak he looked up and rolled his eyes.

“Great, this is exactly what I need right now.”, he grumbled.

“Hello to you too.”, you spat back feeling hurt.

The worst part of this whole entire thing was that you had fallen in love with him many many lives ago. His smile always melted your heart. He had beautiful eyes and a deep voice that would give you goosebumps. You always had a thing for the cold heartless guy who still had a soft spot and that fit Yoongi perfectly in every life. Unfortunately he never felt the same about you.

“Y/N…let’s not even waste our time. We know it won’t happen.”

“Yoongi, why can’t you at least try? Please. I’m tired. I’m tired of spending my life looking for you, waiting for us to find each other just for you to immediately shut me down. Give me…give us a chance.”, you begged. You didn’t care that you were sounding desperate.

He ran a hand over his face, “Fine.”

“Here is the address to my place. Be there at 8pm tonight.”, he said handing you a piece of paper.

You accepted it before powering up your computer and getting the day started.

Walking into Yoongi’s place you were in awe of the size, the luxury. Even his door handle looked like it cost more than your rent and you were once again reminded that he was above you.

“I hope you still like kimchi jjigae.”, he said as he led you into the dining room.

“Of course. Sounds great.”

Dinner was going smoothly. The two of you talked, mostly he talked while you listened. His stories were much more interesting and exciting than anything you had to say. But he did ask about your job and and family and friends.

As the night came to an end you knew that you had to talk about things. Yoongi knew too. You could tell from the way that he was avoiding eye contact with you.

“Soo uh are we going to have a second date?”, you chuckled hoping to lighten the mood.

“Date? This wasn’t a date.”

You felt your heart sink.

“Then what was it? Why even ask me to come over.”

“Y/N…”, he grumbled already irritated.

“No Yoongi, why ask me to come over here? Why cook me dinner and ask me about my life? Why make me think you were actually going to give us a chance?”, you were nearing tears at this point. He took another sip of his beer before getting up to walk away from the situation.

Quickly you ran after him until you managed to step in front and stop him, “No Yoongi! You’re not running away from this…from me. Why can’t you just give me a chance? I love you. We’re soulmates. We’re meant to be together.”

He startled you when he through his beer glass in the sink causing it to shatter.

“Fuck Y/N! I’m so sick of hearing about soulmates. Don’t you think maybe if you focused on something other than your soulmate you might actually achieve something in life. Are you content just always being a nobody that no one cares about? Y/N I don’t care if some stupid tattoo makes me your soulmate. I don’t love you. I don’t care about you. I will NEVER marry you. So move on Y/N.”

You watched as his chest moved up and down until the tears blurred your vision too much.

“B-but you’re my soulmate? Who else am I supposed to move on to?”, you whispered.

After having a few minutes to cool down he looked at you with softer eyes.

“Y/N the reason…the reason I asked you here tonight is to tell you that I’m already married.”

Your mouth dropped open, “What?!”

He nodded, “To another idol. We got married privately about a month ago. The news is going to be officially released this weekend so when I found you I decided I should tell you myself before you find out that way.”

It felt like your world was crumbling around you. “Y-you’re married? How? I’m your soulmate. Not her. Not some random woman. Me! Me Yoongi!! The person that’s been chasing after you for centuries.”

You could see the anger return to his face.

“Don’t be so dramatic Y/N. And don’t EVER talk about her like that. I don’t care what some stupid tattoo says. I love her. I love her in ways I will never feel about you. You need to move on Y/N. Find someone that makes you happy in THIS life and stop worrying about future and this soulmate bullshit.”

You stared at the floor in silence while trying to make sense of everything. You could feel him take a step closer to you.

“You know…Namjoon doesn’t believe in this soulmate shit either. Maybe I could introduce you to him if you’d like. I know he’d be good to you.”

“So what? So I guess this is the end?”, you snapped completely ignoring his offer about Namjoon.

He took a deep breath before gently pushing you towards the door., “Yeah it is. It’s just…not the right place, not the right time.“

He handed you your jacket and mentioned something about seeing if he could be transferred again, but you told him not to bother. You were putting in your resignation first thing Monday morning.

“Maybe in the next life.”, he whispered as you walked through the door without sparing him a glance. When you heard the door click shut you dropped to your knees unable to control the wave of emotions that hit you at the realization that once again you were destined to spend eternity searching and pining for the love of your soulmate.

[taggedmemes]

SENTENCE MEME BALDUR'S GATE 3 / PART SIX

leave us in peace and we shall leave you in kind.

cut the crap.

we just want to go home.

enough of this charade.

i'll not play pretend anymore.

you'll soon learn what it means to ally yourself with the likes of this garbage.

i'm free now, and i'm never going back.

fuck them.

felt good letting off a little steam.

if i burn any hotter, i might explode.

don't get too close until i've found a way to calm down.

it's a bit early to be getting into tragic backstories.

let's save the scar-show for later after we've worked up an appetite for tragedy.

in the grand scheme of things, i'm inconsequential [to her].

she favored me like a child favors a captive pet.

it had the makings of a good stage show, but i did not want to be one of the players.

torture, bloodsport? or perhaps just a good old-fashioned walloping?

you owe me nothing.

i could extort you, if that's what you want.

you're teasing me now.

ignorance is alive and well it seems.

don't make me get the wooden spoon.

you'd best have one hells of an apology for me.

if you think your precious little god holds any power here, you're in for a surprise.

do you treat all your guests so poorly?

i don't like busybodies.

you are as thick as they come.

are you telling me you made love to a goddess?

i shared a bed with a goddess and yet i wasn't satisfied.

shall i share the story behind it or would you rather head straight to its sordid finale?

how are you still alive?

we've come this far together and we'll continue on together.

even i am tired of the sound of my own voice.

i'll rip your spine out of your asshole.

i'll use your blood to spice my stew.

i'll keep you alive until i've sucked the marrow from your bones.

killing me is a waste of time.

you bastard, you ruined everything.

this is an interesting way of thanking me.

a slap is all you deserve.

a hag was never going to help you.

they don't help anyone but themselves.

that double-crossing, filthy, lying hag.

focus on the positive.

forgive the aroma.

perhaps that is why i have survived so long where more fearsome peers have not.

your loyalty is admirable but misplaced.

his kind have charm beyond our mortal means to resist.

who'd keep a secret like that from his friends?

you can't trust anyone these days.

even in the middle of nowhere, he can reach me.

why do you insist on exhuming the past?

people think the biggest threat to a vampire is a cleric with a stake.

they're scheming, paranoid, power-hungry beasts.

i am what i must be, says what i must be.

how does it feel to be a devil?

i can't tell if you're being silly or serious.

you have to admire the man's ambition.

i promise i will not betray your trust.

you kept me by your side despite the menace i am.

i learned quick how to stay alive.

to feel invincible again.

this isn't where i thought i'd end up.

maybe when this is all done, you can show me where you came from.

i'm not normally one to begrudge someone their secrets, but..

i'm already blessed to have you at my side.

don't you cut a fine figure.

i am not some lower city coinlad offering you a tumble.

there is nothing so depressing as learning one's true value.

i could use someone with your skills.

they're ravenous predators with fangs like daggers.

it's hardly an irrational fear to harbor.

you've been decent to me, so far.

everyone's got their own fears.

maybe that's what i like about you.

all of this was for nothing.

if you're here to help, get to the fight quickly.

gods, i thought you were one of those beasts.

i'm not chasing after it, if that's what you're thinking.

the little beast's charming once you get accustomed to the smell of rotting flesh.

[queenshelby]

The Basement (Part 4)

Pairing: Dark Cillian Murphy x Reader

Warning: Smut, Dubcon, Somophelia

You were fast asleep when Cillian entered the basement and sat down on the bed next to you with his erection already straining against his briefs.

He parted your legs carefully, admiring your sleeping form. Then, he slid down his boxers, revealing his fully erect cock. He couldn't help but smile as he watched your peaceful expression, your face scrunched up slightly, giving an adorable appearance.

"Alright, little one," he whispered before reaching for the lube beside him.

"I am going to put my cock into that pretty little pussy of yours while you sleep and tomorrow morning, when you wake up, you will be nice and sore, leaking my cum everywhere."

He watched you sleep, enjoying the peace and serenity that radiated from your features.

"You look so peaceful like this," he murmured before lubricating your entrance.

He carefully inserted a finger, marveling at how easily it glided in. With a smirk, he added another finger, exploring your tender folds. Your unconscious body twitched slightly under his touch, but you remained oblivious to his exploration.

"What do you think?" he muttered to himself as he stared at your prone form. "You are so sexy when you are sleeping, but too bad you won't remember this in the morning."

He decided to wait a bit longer, letting the anticipation build.

After all, there was something particularly enticing about violating someone who didn't even recognize the violation. The thrill of watching you stir beneath him, feeling your warm breath against his neck, and knowing that you were completely unaware of what was happening. It was intoxicating.

Slowly, he slid his fingers out, watching the lube ooze onto your thighs. With a grin, he applied more lube to his cock, preparing it for the act. He positioned himself, aiming his cock towards your opening.

He stopped for a moment, watching your unconscious form. He couldn't believe his luck; he would have the opportunity to use you whenever he wanted as you had signed up for this twisted little game.

He teased your entrance with the head of his cock, enjoying the friction as it slid across your sensitive flesh. He felt a surge of power, knowing that you were completely unaware of the act he was about to commit.

"Hmm," he whispered, his erection stiffening even more.

He pressed the head of his cock against your entrance, the pressure increasing.

He could hear your soft snores, creating a symphony of sensuality as he began to push.

He groaned, the sensation of slipping inside you invigorating him.

Your tightness made him pause, savoring the feeling of being surrounded by your warmth, your inner walls squeezing him tightly.

"Fuck," he cursed, his eyes widening at the sight of your naked form below him. "You are still so fucking tight!"

He pulled out slowly, leaving you panting and gasping for air, only to thrust back in with a forceful groan.

"Oh, God, you feel so good," he muttered, the sweat dripping from his brow. 

He kept thrusting in and out, his movements steady and deliberate, each stroke drawing out a slight cry in your dreams. You were stirring but slept nonetheless, unaware of the uninvited guest nestled within you.

Cillian enjoyed every second of his secret escapade, savoring the power he held over you. He had planned this moment since first laying eyes on you, orchestrating every detail to ensure your compliance. His plan had worked seamlessly, and now he was inside you, claiming you.

"Now I am going to fill your hole up with my cum, little one," he murmured, the anticipation of the moment causing his cock to throb. "And then I will be back in an hour and do this all over again!" 

He increased the force of his thrusts, relishing the sensation of your tightness squeezing his cock. He was determined to mark you as his own, imprinting his essence on your body.

"Here it comes," he murmured, his voice trembling with anticipation.

With a final thrust, he released his load deep within you, filling you with his essence.

"Fuck, you belong to me now my little girl," he whispered, his voice hoarse with passion. "Your delicious cunt is mine, and I'm going to use it every chance I get."

Cillian withdrew from you, leaving you feeling empty and vulnerable. You were still asleep, unconscious as his cum leaked out of you, staining the sheets beneath you. Cillian couldn't help but stare at you, his cock still stiff with excitement. He couldn't believe what he had done, but the thrill of it all was addictive.

Cillian leaned down, brushing your hair out of your face and placing a gentle kiss on your lips. You stirred slightly, but your sleeping form remained otherwise unmoving.

Cillian used you a total of five more times that night while you were asleep and by the time you woke up in the morning, your core was aching.

You struggled to move, each shift causing a new wave of pain to radiate from between your legs.

Your pussy was swollen and raw from Cillian's rough handling.

His semen leaked out of you, dribbling down your thighs, providing an indisputable proof of the filthy acts that you had been subjected to the entire night.

As you tried to process the series of events that had unfolded, a wave of shame washed over you.

You couldn't believe that you had allowed Cillian to use you like that, to treat you as nothing more than an object for his selfish pleasure.

But despite the mortification, you couldn't deny the strange sense of satisfaction that accompanied your submission.

When Cillian arrived in the basement however, you were unsure whether you could take anymore. Your body felt like it had been through a meat grinder, every inch screaming for respite.

Cillian noticed your wary state but wasted no time to make you spread your legs for him.

"I am too sore," you whined as he slid two fingers inside you, hurting you in the process.

"Ssh, remember the contract you've signed?" Cillian reminded you, his piercing blue eyes staring into your soul as he manipulated your sore pussy with skilled fingers. "Don't forget what you agreed to, little one. You don't get to say no to me!"

Tears welled up in your eyes as his fingers probed deeper, causing you to wince in pain. You remembered the document you had signed in a fit of pleasure-drunken haze - the one that gave Cillian absolute control over your body for the next two weeks and although you had a safe-word, you were not yet prepared to use it.

"Please...it hurts," you whimpered, in a futile attempt to escape as he unbuckled his pants.

Cillian's eyes glimmered with satisfaction at the sight of your distress, and he grabbed your hips, pulling you closer. "You'll have to get used to it," he said, a cruel smirk playing on his lips as he watched you struggle against his grip.

"No! Please! I can't take it again. Everything hurts down there," you objected, tears welling up in your eyes. Your pussy was raw and tender from the endless hours of abuse, and the thought of Cillian plunging into you again made you sick to your stomach.

"Hold still!" Cillian barked, his patience wearing thin as he wrestled fresh lubricant from the nightstand drawer as you kicked and protested, which is when he finally called for his assistant Mandy to hold you down for him.

When she arrived, she took your arms, pinning them above your head as you struggled against their grip, while Cillian spread your legs, his engorged cock demanding your submission.

"Your sore little pussy is going to take me in, over and over again, until I'm satisfied," Cillian snarled, brutally thrusting into you without warning. You cried out, searing pain ripping through your delicate flesh. 

With every savage thrust, you wondered how much more your body, your mind could bear; where was the limit of your submission, your body begging you to use your safe word, but something held you back.

"Fuck! You feel so good, so Goddamn tight!" Cillian growled through gritted teeth, his hips snapping aggressively against yours, driving his rigid length into your tormented pussy. Each vicious dig of his shaft into you only amplified the violent spasms of pain knifing throughout your lower half.

"I-I can't," you forced out, your voice trembling with unspeakable agony. "It hurts...please, let me rest."

Your objections fell on deaf ears, as Cillian remained relentless in his conquest. 

"Such a good girl, aren't you?" Mandy cooed, maintaining her firm grip on your wrists. "Letting Cillian do whatever he wants to you," she cooed and you couldn't help but feel degraded, violated even. But despite the pain, you found yourself becoming strangely aroused by their raw dominance, your own submissive nature coming to the surface.

"You really did fuck her raw didn't you Cills?" Mandy said, a note of admiration in her voice as she watched Cillian thrust into you mercilessly.

You sobbed pathetically, torn between unbearable pain and surging pleasure.

Cillian sneered, his hips slamming against yours without mercy. You arched back, your soft moans blending with the cacophony of flesh against flesh. His punishing rhythm brought you closer to the brink of orgasm, and you hated yourself for enjoying his rough treatment.

Mandy purred, leaning in to kiss your perspiration-drenched temple, her voice sultry and mocking.

"Naughty girl, you're loving every second of this, aren't you?" she asked and you bit your lip, holding back your cries of ecstasy, crushed between Cillian's fierce possession and Mandy's taunting whispers.

"Of course she does," Cillian groaned, his thrusts growing more insistent, more intense. "She loves every single thing I do to her."

He lowered himself onto you, his mouth finding your breasts. You whimpered as he bit down, drawing a small amount of blood, but you couldn't bring yourself to stop him. His relentless pounding had pushed your body to the breaking point, had forced every coherent thought out of your head.

Cillian lifted his head from your breasts, his lips curling up in a devious smile.

"You're close, aren't you?" he taunted, his piercing blue eyes glinting with satisfaction.

You hesitated, your breath hitching as another wave of pleasure consumed you. "Yes," you whispered, your voice barely above a whisper. You felt ashamed at the admission, embarrassed that you were so willing to submit to his desires.

But despite your reservations, you couldn't deny the mounting pressure building inside you, the sweet release you craved.

"That's too bad because I won't let you cum," he groaned, his hips pistoning relentlessly against yours. Your protests were muffled as he captured your lips in a searing kiss, his tongue delving deep into your mouth.

In spite of his cruel words, you couldn't help but moan, your body arching off the bed as Cillian continued to plow into you mercilessly. You could feel your orgasm building, every nerve ending tingling with anticipation.

But just as you were about to crest the edge, Cillian pulled out, leaving you whimpering with frustration before he released his load all over your body like you were nothing.

He then got up, wiped himself clean, and left the room without a word, leaving utterly humiliated and spent.

To be continued...

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[professor-doc-emeritus]

I love the dichotomy we get between jinshi and the emperor that shows off how the traits that make jinshi a great prince, boss, friend (husband 👀👀👀👀) are the very same traits that will make him a terrible emperor.

His hard working streak that lets him handle his weird assignments with grace and manage the clashing egos of the inner palace is what will get him killed by overwork as emperor since he has no real head for delegation. It took 11 volumes and the intervention of most of his immediate family just to get jinshi to hire a secretary. The emperor always being free to host parties, sleep with the consorts, and bust jinshis balls in-between it all is, much like lakan always being free to annoy maomao, actually a sign of him being god-like at delegation and organizational management.

His lack of ego and willingness to look the fool if it gets the job done is great for avoiding political snafus and getting to the truth of things. It's genuinely the thing that makes all his expeditions to the western capital so wildly successful: he really doesn't gaf about how he's seen by the public, so long as the job gets done and his friends aren't in immediate danger. It's also the exact opposite of what you need from a head of state who's legitimacy is not-insignificantly based on the public perceiving you as an instrument of the will of heaven. The emperor being willing to kill people and their families over slights jinshi (and most sane human beings) would be willing to let slide is cruel and inhuman, but it's also what keeps the populace at large from being able to organize against him and challenge the imperial power.

Jinshis compassionate streak, his urge to save as many people he can and find the best solution for everyone possible, makes him great to work for. He'll give you assignments that match your hyper fixation, work around your crippling social anxiety, give you a post that just-so-happens to involve you staying with the love of your life for a few months. More over, he isn't gonna risk his life and your position over petty ego or greed when he can find a peaceful solution instead. But the hesitation he feels at using people like tools, and his unwillingness to act if it means throwing people under the bus, is what will lead to death and destruction if he's the emperor. Especially in a time of war. The current emperor is willing to ruin lives and crush nations if it reaches a goal, advances an agenda.

Finally, jinshis loyalty, I'd say even more than his looks, is what draws people to him. He loves his toys, can't stand to give them up. It makes him a great romantic figure. But when you're the emperor, and you need to be willing and able to marry someone for political ends, produce as many heirs as possible regardless of who with, and set aside the feelings of those women for your own sake, that loyalty is poison.

Idk, so often in stories with these systems they sorta follow the logic of "if he's a good person he'll be a good leader." I think it's cool to have a series talk about how being a leader involves being EXTREMELY comfortable with being an asshole, for a myriad of reasons, and how someone being pleasant to work for wouldn't make them an effect monarch.

[griffinswitch]

Some headcanons for Griffin, Faragonda and Saladin

I have some headcanons about Saladin, Griffin and Faragonda. All three of them have been "cursed" (not cursed per se, I'm using the word 'curse' as a metaphor for their trauma) during the Company of Light era.

Saladin prides himself in his powerful abilities as a wizard, especially in his strength.

When the time came to face a battle between the Ancestral Witches and their minions during one of the Company of Light’s missions, one of them cursed him to age quickly, which heavily affected his height too, causing him to shrink. It took him a while to adjust to his condition, but despite his curse, he is still able to retain the potency of his magical abilities with some limitations that comes with being cursed, which Valtor in Season 3 insinuates that he is the weakest (obvs he is far from that!) among the three points of magic.

With Faragonda, being able to have better control of her powers is one of the most important things to her. For most part of her childhood up to her early teenage years, she struggled understanding herself and her powers. Growing up from a family of witches and wizards, she was born a witch and because she was unable to control her powers (thanks to the pressure from her parents), despite the help of Griffin when they were younger, she decided to transfer from Cloud Tower to Alfea to become a fairy.

When she switched schools, it had caused a slight rivalry and bitterness between her and Griffin since light magic is the more socially acceptable type of magic. By channeling positive emotions, it has helped her manage and understand her powers better. This also led to an interest in teaching herself convergence at Alfea (which she teaches in the series), particularly converging with dark magic users. With Faragonda's own research in convergence with light and dark magic to fight the forces of evil, she had hoped it would bridge the gap between fairies and witches (especially from Alfea and Cloud Tower), hoped it would bring her and Griffin together like they once were and hoped it would help the Council understand that light and dark can work in unison, and that dark magic users are important to the balance of magic. I'll expand on Faragonda's role, powers and background in my CoL fic later on. Similar to Griffin's own research in my headcanons for her.

Anyway, during Faragonda’s mission to rescue Griffin from the Ancestral Witches' lair in Obsidian, everything was going to plan when Faragonda found herself in a trap set by one of the members from the Wizards of the Black Circle, Yllidith (a character from the comics who we do not see in the show). Long story short, Yllidith plucked Faragonda’s wings in front of Griffin (who was magi-cuffed at the time, also tied to her fate, so she couldn't access her powers as she watched in horror). Hagen and Saladin both came to their rescue and fought off the wizard and other beings of evil. And with all the strength she had left, Faragonda opened a portal and teleported them back to safety despite being severely wounded. Even with the help of her Enchantix fairy dust or any fairy who was at Enchantix level, there had been no cure in growing her fairy wings back.

However, since witches don't need wings to fly, Griffin taught Faragonda to fly with a LOT of trial and error + it had taken Faragonda years to heal from losing her wings. She also had gotten a little better at channeling her negative emotions but she was still better suited as a fairy and was at her best with transmitting positive emotions despite being wingless.

Griffin’s curse is thanks to Valtor for her betrayal during their final encounter with one another. He has cursed her to never know peace. Anything she holds dear somehow gets taken away from her, even momentarily and she's in a constant state of chaos, also most likely from her PTSD from the war(s). (Faragonda helps Griffin cope with and manage her curse, they both do!)

Cloud Tower (CT) is one of the things she holds dear because it is her safe space, not only for herself or the many objects (some rare, dangerous and ancient relics) that is home to it but also for her students who she deeply care for.

The times when CT was invaded by the Trix and with them being related to the Ancestral Witches (AW), you can imagine how triggering it was for her, especially when she’s worked incredibly hard to make sure CT is a school where witches of dark magic can learn how to control their powers for good and help fight evil. She fears that, with the Trix being in control of CT, history might repeat itself and cause an army of dark magic users who uses their powers for evil causing an imbalance in magic.

And let’s not forget when Valtor took control of CT and her students, it had really caused her dearly. He even sent her to prison in her own school, a cruel way to face her punishment for betraying him all those years ago. He had hoped she'd rot in her prison cell for eternity, to be a prisoner of her own mind from her grief and guilt, the same way he did when he was trapped in the Omega Dimension. (Of course, we know what canonically happened in Season 3).

[starmatzz]

uhhh imagine the members teasing hongjoong about his height in wanteez ep but seonghwa obv teases him the most, calling him short and feeling in charge but the tables turn when the recording is over and ykyk👀

umm yes please🙏🏻 i like the way your brain works😈

Small Victories

hongjoong x seonghwa

smut | mdni

1.9k

Seonghwa’s teasing about Hongjoong’s height takes an unexpected turn, shifting the dynamic between them. What starts as playful banter becomes a moment of tension, vulnerability, and quiet understanding.

nsfw tags under

rough sex, pet names, teasing, stimulation, crying, aftercare, degradation, humiliation, power play, dom!hongjoong, sub!seonghwa

Read on ao3

The members were in the middle of a lively Wanteez episode, laughter filling the room as they prepared for the next game. The task was simple: stand in order from tallest to shortest. Everyone eagerly got into position, but when they looked at Hongjoong, the teasing began.

“Look at this, our leader—finally the shortest one!” Wooyoung teased with a grin, nudging Yunho, who was a head taller.

“Yeah, Hongjoong, you’ve officially been dethroned!” Yeosang chimed in, his eyes twinkling with mischief.

The others joined in, laughter rippling through the group. Hongjoong just shook his head, chuckling at their antics, but there was a flicker of something more behind his eyes—something simmering beneath his usual calm demeanor.

And then, Seonghwa, usually reserved, decided to join in. His voice was playful, yet his eyes gleamed with something more mischievous.

“Seems like you’re the shortest one now,” Seonghwa teased, a smirk tugging at his lips as he glanced at Hongjoong. “Guess the rest of us are just taller… by a lot.”

The others chuckled, but the air between Seonghwa and Hongjoong grew heavier. Hongjoong’s smile tightened, his gaze sharp and unwavering as he looked at Seonghwa. The playful tone of Seonghwa’s words hung in the air, and the sudden shift in Hongjoong’s expression didn’t go unnoticed, though the others continued to laugh, oblivious.

Seonghwa felt the intensity of Hongjoong’s stare, but he kept his composure, shrugging casually and pretending like nothing had changed. “What? It’s just a joke,” he said with a carefree tone, though inside, his heart was pounding a little faster.

Throughout the rest of the episode, Hongjoong avoided Seonghwa’s gaze, his eyes lowering whenever Seonghwa looked his way, his expression guarded. But every so often, Seonghwa would catch a glimpse of Hongjoong’s hooded eyes, the sharp intensity behind them almost palpable. Despite the playful atmosphere, a tension lingered between them, unspoken and unresolved.

After the episode ended, the members went their separate ways, retreating to their own apartments to unwind. Seonghwa, feeling the warmth of a long day settle into his bones, slipped into something comfortable. His pajama set was soft, the fabric hugging him just enough to feel cozy as he settled into his favorite chair. The familiar soundtrack of Animal Crossing filled the room as he absentmindedly moved his character around, his mind wandering.

It was just after 10 PM when the peaceful atmosphere was interrupted by a knock on his door. Seonghwa paused, glancing up with a raised brow. His first instinct was to ignore it—maybe one of the others had forgotten something—but then his gaze drifted to the clock, wondering who could possibly need something this late.

He stood up, stretched, and shuffled to the door, still wrapped in the warmth of his pajamas. As he opened it, the figure standing in the doorway caused his heart to skip a beat.

The air felt heavier as the door to Seonghwa’s room creaked open, revealing Hongjoong leaning against the frame, his sharp gaze locked onto Seonghwa.

“Short, huh?” he murmured, his voice low, almost a challenge.

Seonghwa froze mid-motion, his hand hovering over the desk. “What are you talking about?”

Hongjoong stepped inside, the corner of his lips curling into a smirk, his eyes glinting with something dangerous, unreadable. “You called me short earlier. Thought I’d remind you who you’re talking to.”

The room felt smaller as he closed the distance between them, his presence overwhelming. Seonghwa swallowed hard, his pulse quickening under Hongjoong’s intense stare.

The door clicked shut with a soft finality, and Seonghwa’s attention snapped to Hongjoong.

“What's the matter? You looked so confident before.” Hongjoong’s voice was calm, almost too calm, as he turned the lock with deliberate slowness. The faint click echoed in the room, louder than it should have been.

Seonghwa straightened, his expression unreadable, though his eyes betrayed a flicker of unease. “What are you doing?”

Hongjoong leaned back against the door, arms crossed, his smirk growing. “Just making sure we’re not interrupted,” he replied, his tone casual but carrying an edge sharp enough to cut.

He took a step forward, and Seonghwa could feel the shift in the air, tension rolling off Hongjoong in waves. The way his eyes gleamed, dangerous and playful, made it hard to tell if he was teasing—or serious.

“You’ve got something else to say about me, Seonghwa?” Hongjoong asked, tilting his head. “Say it now.”

Seonghwa shook his head, his breath hitching as Hongjoong took another step closer. “I didn’t mean anything by it,” he said, his voice quieter than he intended.

Hongjoong raised an eyebrow, his smirk unfaltering. “Didn’t mean anything, huh?” he echoed, the words dripping with mock disbelief. “Funny how it didn’t sound that way earlier.”

Seonghwa’s gaze darted to the locked door, then back to Hongjoong, who now stood just a foot away. The air between them felt charged, like a storm brewing.

Hongjoong had a playful smile on his face as he teased Seonghwa, his voice dripping with mock disappointment. "Well, well, look who's not so confident now that we're alone," he said, pushing Seonghwa onto the bed gently. There was a twinkle in his eyes as he looked down at him, enjoying the sight of him lying there beneath him.

"On all fours." Hongjoong ordered, his voice firm and leaving no room for argument. 

Seonghwa’s breath hitched as the silence stretched between them, the weight of Hongjoong’s gaze unrelenting. He glanced away, but it did nothing to ease the tension curling in his chest.

“Well?” Hongjoong prompted, his tone sharper now, a quiet command that left no room for argument.

Without a word, Seonghwa turned to his knees, his movements deliberate and slow, testing the reaction. His hands met the mattress next, and before he realized it, he was on all fours, his head slightly bowed.

Hongjoong tilted his head, his smirk widening into something unreadable, both amused and satisfied. “Now we’re getting somewhere,” he murmured, his voice carrying a hint of mockery.

Seonghwa didn’t dare look up, his jaw clenched. The situation felt absurd, and yet, the intensity of Hongjoong’s presence left him without the strength to protest.

Hongjoong crouched slightly to bring his face closer to Seonghwa’s level. “What happened to that sharp tongue of yours?”

Seonghwa swallowed hard, his fingers curling against the blanket. “I… didn’t mean to upset you,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.

Hongjoong chuckled softly, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction. “Didn’t mean to,” he echoed, his tone dripping with playful malice. “Good. Keep that in mind.”

With a swift movement, Hongjoong pulled Seonghwa's pajama pants down. The sudden action made Seonghwa gasp, feeling the cold air brush against his exposed skin. 

"Since I am that short, I don't even need to prepare you, am I right?" he said, voice husky as he unbuckled his belt, kneeling behind Seonghwa. "I bet you won't even feel it."

"Hongjoong—" Seonghwa whined, feeling Hongjoong's hands cup and squeeze his ass. 

"Quiet." Hongjoong ordered, giving the other a sharp slap on his bottom. He watched the skin turn a light shade of pink, smiling in satisfaction. 

"Can I trust you if I ask you not to make a noise?" He leaned closer to Seonghwa's ear, teasingly rubbing his tip up and down Seonghwa's hole. 

Seonghwa's breath hitched in his chest, gripping the blanket under his palms. Not waiting for an answer, Hongjoong covered the other's mouth with one hand as he thrusted into him with one swift move. 

Tears rimmed Seonghwa's eyes as he felt the burn at his entrance, loud screams getting muffled by Hongjoong's hand. The stretch was insane, but he would lie if he said he hadn't experienced this already. 

Hongjoong immediately started to fuck into him, his hips snapping at quick pace. 

"Look at you," he cooed, gripping Seonghwa's shoulder with his right hand, pushing his whole body back against his own roughly. "Making fun of me and my height, yet you are here crying, completely helpless." 

The slapping sounds echoed through the room, and Seonghwa was pretty sure he would be bruised from how tightly was Hongjoong holding him. 

With another sharp thrust, Seonghwa's body fell forward and he buried his face into the pillow. The action earned a chuckle from Hongjoong, who only grabbed his hips with both hands, fingers digging into the soft flesh. 

"Ho-ongjoong.." Seonghwa cried into the pillow, arching his back to allow the younger push deeper, hitting his prostate. 

"Fuck..Hwa.." Hongjoong groaned, pushing his head down into the soft pillow as he continued to snap his hips at an animalistic pace. He felt the tension build up in the pit of his stomach—and by the whimpering sounds of the man under him, he knew he was close too. 

He slapped Seonghwa's ass once again before his hips twitched, the muscles on his thighs tensing up as he came into him. 

The final slap was all Seonghwa needed to cum untouched, making a mess on his blanket with star print on it. 

After catching his breath, Hongjoong pulled out, watching his seed ooze of out Seonghwa's abused hole, dripping on the white sheets. 

"So messy.." he shook his head, turning him around. Despite the tear streaks on Seonghwa's face and his messy hair, Hongjoong only found him more beautiful. The sight of his boyfriend laid out before him, vulnerable and disheveled, sent a surge of affection through him. He leaned down, gently brushing away some of the tangles in Seonghwa's hair and tracing his finger over the tear streaks on his face.

Despite the roughness of his previous actions, Hongjoong couldn't help but soften at the sight of Seonghwa's tear-streaked face. He paused, looking at him with concern, and asked gently, "Did I hurt you?" Leaning closer, he began peppering Seonghwa's face with kisses, his touch becoming gentle and tender. Each kiss was a reassurance, a way of apologizing for any pain he may have caused.

Seonghwa shook his head, holding onto him as his eyes fluttered close. 

"Come on,” he said, his voice softer now, though the command lingered in his tone. “Let’s wash up. You look like you need it.”

He led the way to the bathroom, his presence still commanding even in the quiet of the night.

In the warm light of the bathroom, they moved around each other in comfortable silence, the earlier tension melting away with the sound of running water. Seonghwa splashed his face, stealing glances at Hongjoong as he washed up beside him.

“You’re quiet,” Hongjoong remarked, glancing at him with a faint smirk.

“Just… tired,” Seonghwa muttered, his voice soft but genuine.

Hongjoong chuckled. “Then let’s fix that.”

Once they were done, Hongjoong grabbed a towel and tossed it over Seonghwa’s head, ruffling his hair playfully. Seonghwa protested, swatting him away, but a small smile tugged at his lips.

Back in the room, Seonghwa barely had time to sit before Hongjoong scooped him up with ease, ignoring the surprised yelp.

“Hey!” Seonghwa protested weakly, but Hongjoong only grinned.

“Relax,” Hongjoong murmured, putting him onto the bed and laying him down gently before crawling in beside him. He pulled Seonghwa close, wrapping an arm securely around his waist.

“Better?” Hongjoong asked, his voice low, the edge from earlier completely gone now.

Seonghwa nodded, resting his head against Hongjoong’s chest. “Yeah. Better. And I am sorry for earlier...”

Hongjoong hummed in response, his hand tracing soothing patterns along Seonghwa’s back. "It's fine baby, I know you're a tease." he whispered—never being actually upset about it in the first place. The night settled around them, quiet and warm, the earlier tension replaced by a comforting stillness as they drifted off together.

[thr0wnawayy]

Hello! Been really enjoying your MHA takes especially the aftermath, it had me thinking but what if Hawks and the HC were responsible were for wiping out Izuku's record in the Final War. We know there was people recording Izuku's battle with Tomura but yet people not knowing about Izuku and acting like he is some mysterious legend just didn't sit right with me. But if they knew, OFA was going to disappear and there would be no Symbol of Peace in the short term until Mirio arrived (bleh). Then it would make sense why Hawks and company would delete this stuff for any number of reasons. It would be this weird sort of propaganda where the collective is glorified. While still retaining the status quo until they can find a stronger Symbol because I refuse to take seriously Mirio being number 1 cause his quirk is overrated.

This would help explain why Izuku's role in the war is essentially erased and no one seems to have remembered him despite being the deciding factor, but his depression/guilt means he doesn't care to talk about. It would be overwhelming for Izuku because the propaganda would only assert that his role was meaningless despite it being the contrary. Of course, it doesn't help that nobody does anything to help lift Izuku from his mental problems.

What your saying is absolutely plausible, however there are a few things that conflict with your theory.

No one really knew about OFA in the first place. This is a massive fuck up on Hori's part, as "canonically" only 3 people really know about OFA (5, if you count sheild and Melissa)

The fact is, the general public isn't really aware of what OFA was. To their knowledge Izuku might have been one of AFO's science projects or something of the sort, which could have created problems in trying to reestablish "order".

Thus the Commission thought it best for OFA to just fade into the background and that meant nipping every bud related to it. Including Midoriya.

You see, All Might is covered. He's made a name for himself and even though there was panic after his retirement, he's still one of the only people capable of standing firm. That alone grants him a level of protection and support networks that Midoriya clearly lacks.

The second issue is that the idea of a symbol is so ingrained with All Might (or rather the idea of AM) that OFA is connected to that by proxy.

The Commission needs a hero that doesn't exist anymore, because in a post Liberation War Japan? They can't exist.

Not when people have been exposed to how rotten the current system is underneath and no 'new coat of paint' will ever be enough to change that, no matter how fanciful the lie.

Midoriya by his very nature (and failings) as a hero, cannot become 'the greatest' in this world, because what once passed for the greatest turned out to be a human trafficking piece of shit, who was killed by his victim's own hand.

Izuku's record wasn't so much wiped, as much as he just gave up. He went so went so far off course that he wound up in a worse position than when he started and dragged everyone with him in the process.

The reality is a culture built on "out of sight, out of mind" when it comes to crime. MHA's Japan does this, but far, far worse and that isn't sustainable. Not when you have massive critics like Japan does.

Japan is in a free fall, Toshinori is one of those people, hopefully I'll get around to writing that mini chapter fully.

Hawks doesn't have the brains to lead. As seen in the U.N Meeting, he's a horrible politician (being a child soldier will do that). He's used to taking orders and polishing the boots of whomever is giving them, not sitting down and discussing how they (the nations) can use their power to make the world a better place.

As for the Hero Boards, due to the lack of participation, they fluctuate violently every term due to the smaller voting pool. Mirio's rank is only semi-consistant, with him constantly switching to number one and number three every odd poll showcase.

The portion of the public that still look up to heroes see him as a model person, but not a model hero. As they look for a hero that will never come.

The truth is there cannot be another All Might in the same way there can never be another AFO (Pre Kamio ofc). They were titans of their time, only able to exist because of the circumstances unique to their times.

There's a saying that is often misquoted

"The survival of the fittest"

This is an incomplete version of the phrase, the correct version is: "The survival of the fittest to adapt"

That is what evolution is, an arms race.

There will never truly be another All Might, there may never be another League Of Villains. But it doesn't matter, because some way, somehow.

The pieces will slot into place and then the real fun can begin. So long as their are those who slip through the cracks. So long as the current society stands.

There will always be that child that everyone can see, but choose to ignore.

They can lie to themselves, have them put on a happy face, shunt them to fitting into the current "mold" and then go home and wash their hands of responsibility because "I did my part".

It won't make them any less guilty.

It won't make those children any less adaptable.

[moonlight-tmd]

Hello! I want to ask you about Shattered Glass God Sparkling au.

what is the relationship between Bee and his parents in this version? How does he get to Cybertron? How will his parents react to his situation? On his partners?

If it make you uncomfortable, sorry.

(I'll write that second time, but the first is laging, so yes) (Sorry if It hard to read, English is not mine own language)

Hi! No worries, Tumblr has a tendency to lag when sending asks sometimes.

An AU version of my AU, that's a first. Well, I like to imagine the roles are swapped even for gods; so Unicron is the good guy while Primus is the bad one. Unicron is still energetic as ever but he uses that energy and positivity to make good stuff happen, Primus on the other hand is more of an iron-fist ruler. Bee is a complete opposite of all of them; he's shy, quiet, a coward and a follower.

Now, you would think that means they don't like him- wrong. They love him just as much, in their own wicked ways. They are mesed up but they would do anything to keep their sparkling safe.

Even so it doesn't mean he can't get into arguments with his parents. Primus wanted him to climb the career ladder so he can one day influence Cybertron like he does. Instead Bee became a disappointment by failing and getting thrown into the lowest ranking job ever. To say the least, Bee hasn't answered any of Primus' calls since then.

After the team crashed on earth, he thought he'd finally have some peace to himself but nope- the moment he woke up he got bombarded with questions and concerns from Unicron (since he was on his planet n all). Bee also argued with him to leave him alone, after a while tho they decided to speak again and with Unicron's pushy attitude to know what's wrong Bee told him what happened. Of course Unicron was livid and threw hands with Primus the first chance he got, nonetheless he was there to support his bitty every step of the way.

In the original AU, the gods could manifest an avatar to interact with mortals. In Shattered Glass version, it's nearly impossible for them to do so- Primus has forged the Allspark to manifest a piece of his power in the real world, which also acted as a barrier that unabled any more celestial deities from manifesting there. Unicron is the only one who can somewhat bend that barrier and allow himself to talk to others via electronics. Other than that, their voices are only heard by Bumblebee in his helm.

As much as Unicron was trying to look out for Bee, he had a tendency to get busy/distracted therefore some of his check up visits were very much delayed to the point of it being another check up's date. I would say that in the meantime of that happening, a lot has happened for Bee; when Sentinel came to check up on the group, Bee had a forced talk with Primus. Primus apologised of course but he was still a bit disappointed. Then Decepticons arrived and Bee got in trouble for interacting with them.

The next time Unicron checked up on Bee, the bitty was pissed. Unicron said he'd be there for him and he never was. It took a long while for him to fix that mistake but even then their relations were a bit strained just like with Primus.

As for the relationships;

When Bee was together with Prowl, Unicron tried to warn him about the manipulation but Bee refused to believe it. He regretted being so foolish after he was rescued.

When Unicron learned about Bee being in a love triangle with Shockwave and Blitzwing he was elated to know his bitty is finally getting the overdue love he deserved. He supported them all the way, he miiight have pushed it a little too far with asking for grandlings that one time but he's still happy for Bee, regardless of what they'll plan.

Primus didn't know about anything until after the fact Bee was in a loving relationship. Bee never told him anything about his personal stuff in their rare talks, he didn't want his sire to spoil it all by saying it's not important. He got to accepting their bitlet's situation eventually and he's glad Bee was happy but deep down he still yearns for the plan he originally had for him.

I suppose that's all. I like the idea of them trying to be somewhat good parents but it doesn't go they way they want it half the time. Hope you enjoyed!

And yes, the love triangle is now canon to the AU, cuz why not.

[tobecatherine]

You are home

Part two to Nightmare Comfort.

Part One

Okay ya'll here it finally is, the long awaited part two to my Gale fanfic and as promised it is spicy! So only 18+ please! It ended up way longer than I planned but I hope you'll find it worth the read.

This is def romantic/sappy with very light kink.

TavxGale- First Person

Word Count: 3057

I hope ya'll enjoy!

Ever since you confided in Gale about your nightmares, he has been extra attentive and caring towards you. Every night, he would tell you sweet stories from his imagination or his favorite books, hoping to fill your mind with positive thoughts and banish your worries. He even offered to use magic to help, but you declined. With time and his loving care, you were confident that the nightmares would eventually fade away.

Your new nightly routine was a welcomed change. After dinner and a walk together, you two would snuggle into bed and listen to Gale's soft voice until you drifted off to sleep in his arms. Even though the nightmares still came, they were easier to push away with Gale by your side. Your heart was filled with love and gratitude for the man next to you.

These peaceful nights became the usual routine over time. When Gale returned home from teaching at the academy, he would enthusiastically share stories about his students while helping you prepare dinner. Then, you would eat together, clean up, and set out for your evening stroll as a couple.

The stars shone just as brilliantly tonight as they did on the evening Gale professed his love for you. You couldn't help but wonder if he had cast another enchantment, as the stars weren't always visible above the buildings in town. But when you looked at Gale, you realized that the night sky was its own magic that night.

"I love you," you whisper tenderly, intertwining your fingers with Gale's as your heart flutters. Even after all this time, his touch still had the power to make your heart skip a beat.

"I love you too, my dear," he replies with a smile. "I wouldn't be here without you. I am forever grateful for the days I get to spend by your side. You...changed me."

"I didn't change you. I simply showed you that you are someone worth loving," you say, turning to face him and gazing into his eyes.

As your eyes meet, a soft smile spreads across your face before you lean in to kiss his velvety lips. You can feel him grinning against your own before he wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you closer to him.

As his lips softly brushed against yours, he whispered, “You were right, I never felt like I was enough. But you helped change that.” 

You leaned your foreheads together, standing there in each other's embrace for a moment. His arms securely around your shoulders and yours wrapped tightly around his neck. Taking a deep breath, you let yourself share this intimate space with him, feeling your hearts beating as one as you kissed him again. The kiss deepened as Gale's tongue gently grazed your bottom lip, and you eagerly parted them for him. You wished you could stay locked in this moment forever, kissing him until the end of time.

But reality came crashing in as you became aware of Gale's arousal pressing against your stomach. As tempting as it was to take him between two buildings and have your way with him, that idea was quickly dismissed when a drunk man stumbled out of a nearby building.

"Maybe we should head back earlier tonight," you murmur with a playful lilt in your voice. 

Your lips were still tingling from his kisses, and his flavor lingered on your tongue. Without any words exchanged, you suddenly find yourself being whisked through space and time, ending up in the front room of your home alongside him.

"Do you have a magical teleportation device hidden here?" You quirk an eyebrow at him. 

"You never know when you might need a quick getaway," Gale responds with a mischievous grin.

Gale pulled you close, his lips crashing into yours with an intensity that made your heart race. As your tongues danced and hands roamed, Gale's lips began to trail down your neck. His strong hands moved from your lower back to your hips, then to the back of your thighs as he effortlessly lifted you in his arms. You couldn't help but let out breathy moans as he kissed and nipped at your skin, one hand tangled in his hair and the other holding onto him tightly. Being a bit of a tease, you started grinding against him, causing him to almost lose his balance and lean against a nearby wall. You couldn't help but grin mischievously as you did it again, enjoying the way Gale growled against your skin in response.

The sounds Gale made sent shivers down your spine, igniting a heat that spread to your already quivering core. No one in your life had ever set you on fire the way Gale did. You had past lovers, sure, but Gale was different - Gale was your forever. With a gentle tug of his hair, he pulled back as requested, his dark eyes locked onto yours. In them, you could see the burning desire he had for you, causing a whimper to escape your lips. As your eyes remained locked with his, you bite your bottom lip and let him see all the love, passion, and care you had for him in that moment.

"Please, make love to me," you whisper, nearly begging as both of you pant in anticipation.

"My pleasure," Gale responds with a devilish look before crashing his lips against yours once more.

Gale stepped away from the wall and closed the short distance to your room. He pressed you against the nearest wall, his hips moving slowly against yours. You tried to respond in kind, but he held you firmly, trapping you against the wall. He pulled back slightly to look at you.

"I'm going to show you how much you mean to me, and worship you like you deserve," he said, grinding his hips in circular motions. The heat in his voice sent shivers down your spine.

It was clear that Gale was taking charge tonight, and you eagerly followed his lead as he set you down on your feet, your knees wobbling. He caught you in his arms with a chuckle.

"Already weak in the knees?" he teased before kissing you again.

Together, you and Gale stripped each other of clothing in a frenzy of kisses and caresses. Soon, you were both naked, with Gale hovering over you, his body pressed against yours. You could feel his arousal against your thigh as your hand trailed down to stroke him.

The two of you were lost in a haze of kisses and gentle touches, reveling in the sensations of each other's bodies. As your hand moved up and down Gale's length, his moans echoed in your ears, sending shivers down your spine. With eager fingers, you guided him towards your wet center, but Gale stopped you suddenly. Confused, you looked up at him for an explanation.

“Let’s take our time tonight,” he murmurs against your lips, his hand gripping yours as you move together slowly. “Do you trust me?”

“I trust you with everything,” you reply, breathless as you continue to pleasure him.

Gale suddenly sits up, taking your hands and tenderly kissing each palm before conjuring a rope to tie your wrists to the bedposts. You're surprised by this unexpected turn of events, but Gale simply kisses the tip of your nose and reassures you that tonight is all about you.

With a nod, you relax and let him take control. It's difficult not being able to touch him, run your fingers through his hair or scratch down his back, but tonight is different. Gale has always been an attentive lover, but tonight he takes it to another level. The sensation of goosebumps rising on your skin makes you tingle all over, and you can't wait to see what else he has in store for you.

Gale made sure you were comfortable before sitting up to face you. Watching him gaze at your naked form, you couldn't help but feel a rush of embarrassment and arousal. Though you had seen each other naked many times before, the way his eyes roamed over your body now made you feel like he was trying to etch every inch of you into his memory.

"You are more beautiful than any rare gem or star in the sky. I am beyond lucky to see you as I do," he said, causing you to whimper and turn away slightly, feeling exposed and vulnerable. But Gale's hands began to explore your body, drawing your attention back to him as he hovered above you. "Please don't turn away, my love. To have the vision of your bare form imprinted on my mind is a priceless treasure."

You leaned up to kiss him passionately, feeling the heat from earlier intensify in your core. You never thought words could make you climax, but it felt like they just might have. The thought of being completely under his control sent shivers down your spine, and the heat in your body seemed to pool in your stomach. You bite down on his lip as you finally break away, your neck aching slightly from the angle.

With a mischievous grin, Gale slowly explored your body with his hands and lips. His movements were deliberate, as if he was studying your reactions. You could tell that he paid close attention to your moans, giving you exactly what you wanted and avoiding anything that didn't bring pleasure. Was this what he meant when he said he would worship you? If it was, you were more than happy to accept it.

Every touch from Gale felt electrifying, heating up your entire body by the time he settled between your thighs. His soft lips traced kisses along your inner thigh, occasionally nipping at the supple skin.

"You're already so wet for me," he chuckled before licking a slow line up your folds.

You couldn't help but squirm under Gale's skilled tongue, wanting to feel him closer. When you pressed your hips forward in silent request, he obliged, running his nails lightly along your thighs as his mouth worshiped every inch of your folds. He teased and kissed everywhere except where you desperately wanted him, making you whimper in frustration.

"Gale, please," you pleaded with hazy moans as his touches pushed you closer to the edge.

Gale's hands moved down to spread your lower lips apart with his thumbs, exposing your swollen clit to the cool air of the room. You shuddered as you panted for breath, feeling his tongue work magic on the sensitive bundle of nerves. The way his lips wrapped around the hood of your clit was indescribable, sending waves of pleasure through your body as you braced yourself against the restraints.

"More...please...I'm so close," you begged him without hesitation.

Without a word, Gale leaned in even closer and intensified his efforts. His tongue circled and flicked with increasing speed, driving you wild until you reached another peak of ecstasy. Just when you thought it couldn't get any better, Gale's fingers teased the opening of your core, skillfully brushing against every nerve ending and driving you to the brink of insanity. And when he finally pressed two fingers inside of you, hitting that perfect spot that made you see stars, you couldn't hold back any longer.

As your body tensed and trembled with pleasure, Gale continued to ravish you relentlessly, pushing you into another wave of ecstasy. But just as you were about to reach the ultimate climax, his mouth pulled away and spread your thighs open again. As he slid inside of you, completing the final piece of your union, you felt yourself falling into another blissful release.

You gasped as you felt his erection slowly breach your tight entrance, stretching and filling you with a pleasure that left you breathless. Filling you to the hilt Gale pressed his hips to yours, letting the end of your last climax clench around his cock. The sensation of him filling you as you came was a different kind of bliss in itself. Your hands once again straining against their binds, wanting so badly to touch him. 

As he began to thrust, you could feel yourself clenching around him, drawn deeper into the abyss of pleasure. Your moans turned into cries as he hit the spots that made you go wild. The sensation of him inside you was overwhelming, and you could tell he was enjoying every second of it.

Gale's hand slid up your body, his fingers gently caressing your breast, and then tweaking your nipple just right, sending a shock of pleasure through you. The combination of the sensations was too much, and you knew that you were about to reach the peak of your orgasm once again.

Your body arched violently, your nails digging into the palms of your hands as you reached the peak of pleasure. With a satisfied grin on his face, Gale watched intently, knowing that he had fulfilled all your desires. As your legs trembled and your breaths grew shallow, you were acutely aware of the wetness between your thighs as Gale's arousal continued to throb inside of you.

“Gale… please, finish inside me,” You plead, not wanting to break the intimate connection between you.

Gale thrusts himself deeper inside of you, causing your eyes to roll back in ecstasy. Your legs instinctively wrap around his hips, holding him close as he emptied himself into you. Your tightness squeezes his cock as your lips meld together in a sloppy kiss. A contented sigh escapes your lips as you start to drift off once again. In this moment, lost in pure bliss, you feel nothing but love and adoration for the man who has brought you such immense pleasure.

As you lay there, basking in the afterglow of your passionate encounter, you couldn't help but feel grateful for the connection you shared with Gale. His touch, his voice, his presence—all of it enveloped you in a warmth that was both comforting and exhilarating.

You reached up and gently caressed his face, tracing the lines of his features with your fingertips. He leaned in and kissed your palm, his eyes never leaving your own. There was a depth to his gaze that you couldn't quite put your finger on, but it filled you with a sense of security and trust.

His voice was soft as he asked, "Are you alright? Did I hurt you?"

You smiled and shook your head, lifting your hand to cup his cheek. "No, Gale, you didn't hurt me. You always take care of me."

And I love you, too," he said, his voice filled with sincerity and warmth. In that intimate moment, the world seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of you cocooned in each other's embrace.

As you lay there wrapped in each other's arms, a sense of peace washed over you. It wasn't just about the physical connection you shared but the deep emotional bond that had formed between you and Gale. You knew that whatever challenges life threw your way, as long as you had each other, you could weather any storm.

Feeling a surge of gratitude, you pressed a gentle kiss against Gale's chest, feeling his heartbeat steady beneath your lips. In this quiet space of love and acceptance, you knew that your connection with Gale was something rare and precious.

Gently, Gale released your restraints, allowing your limbs to fall weakly to the side. You felt a wave of exhaustion wash over you but you knew that there would be time for rest later.

As you lay there, basking in the afterglow of your passionate encounter, you couldn't help but feel grateful for the connection you shared with Gale. His touch, his voice, his presence—all of it enveloped you in a warmth that was both comforting and exhilarating.

You reached up and gently caressed his face, tracing the lines of his features with your fingertips. He leaned in and kissed your palm, his eyes never leaving your own. There was a depth to his gaze that you couldn't quite put your finger on, but it filled you with a sense of security and trust.

His voice was soft as he asked, "Are you alright? Did I hurt you?"

You smiled and shook your head, lifting your hand to cup his cheek. "No, Gale, you didn't hurt me. You always take care of me."

As your breathing steadied, Gale pulled out slowly, leaving a warm trail of himself inside you. He reached over and grabbed a soft, fluffy towel, gently dabbing at the evidence of their passion. You watched him, still breathless and glowing with afterglow, feeling a profound connection with him that went beyond mere sex.

He helped you sit up, wrapping his arms around you as you snuggled into his chest. His heartbeat steadied yours, and you knew in that moment that you had found something truly special with Gale. He was more than just a lover—he was a confidant, a protector, a friend.

You turned to him, your eyes brimming with emotion, and whispered, "I love you." The words hung in the air between you, heavy with significance and meaning.

Gale leaned down, kissing you softly on the lips, and then whispered back, "And I love you, too," he said, his voice filled with sincerity and warmth. In that intimate moment, the world seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of you cocooned in each other's embrace.

As you lay there wrapped in each other's arms, a sense of peace washed over you. It wasn't just about the physical connection you shared but the deep emotional bond that had formed between you and Gale. You knew that whatever challenges life threw your way, as long as you had each other, you could weather any storm.

Feeling a surge of gratitude, you pressed a gentle kiss against Gale's chest, feeling his heartbeat steady beneath your lips. In this quiet space of love and acceptance, you knew that your connection with Gale was something rare and precious.

As the soft light of dawn filtered through the window, you closed your eyes, savoring the moment and committing it to memory. In Gale's arms, you found home place where love was infinite and time stood still.

After this night, you never had the nightmares again.