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rafecameroninterlude · 8 hours

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okay this is really specific but when i saw that you’re a latina writer i had to request a oneshot with latina!reader who gets approached by rafe in a club bc he’s in love with the way she dances >.< pls end it w smut, i’ll dieee

₊˚⊹ᰔ 𝐥𝐚́𝐛𝐢𝐨𝐬 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐢𝐝𝐨𝐬

pairing: rafe cameron x latina!reader

warnings: rafe is shy until he gets in the bedroom, unprotected sex, soft sex (for the most part), body worship, sorta fast paced ngl

word count: 1.9k

a/n: the way i screamed when i saw this prompt!! pls give me feedback for latina!reader, i’d love to include her in more works!

“you haven’t said a word since we got here, man.” kelce took a seat next to rafe at the bar, ordering a shot he knew he shouldn’t take. “this isn’t really my scene. none of it.” rafe couldn’t stand all the party lasers lighting up the place, let alone the overly loud music that boomed throughout the club. “you haven’t even tried to have fun, look at topper! he’s having the time of his life.” eyes moving past his friend, rafe laughed once he saw topper drunkenly dancing with a group of girls.. you being one of them. he didn’t know what he was fascinated by more; your beauty, or the way that you moved.

“who’s that?” rafe nodded in your direction, his heart skipping a beat when you glanced up at him. “why don’t you find out?” kelce downed his shot, a groan tumbling from his throat. rafe never approached women, mostly because they were already lined up and waiting for him, but with you he felt a sudden urge to get up and get you before anyone else can. just as he was leaving his seat, he watched you roll your hips against one of your girlfriends, his eyes locking with yours as you did so. “fuck.” rafe cursed under his breath, you and your bestie giggling at the flustered look on his face.

it felt like forever before he actually approached you, your friend whispering a ‘buena suerte— good luck.’ to you before sauntering off in topper’s direction. “i hope i’m not interrupting your fun or anything..” rafe didn’t think it was possible for someone to be this beautiful, yet so intimidating at the same time. he felt like he was throwing himself into the lion’s den with the way you were looking at him. “i saw you when i was talking to my friend, and i just had to come over here.” he scratched the back of his neck, the nervous action making you smile.

“you had to?” rafe swallowed thickly, nodding slowly as you got closer to him. “ven, let’s talk.” reaching for his hand, you led him back to your section where it wasn’t so loud. he couldn’t keep his eyes from watching the way your hips swayed when you walked, your perfume intoxicating him more than any bottle of liquor in this club could. “siéntate— sit down.” you patted the spot next to you, draping your legs across his lap. rafe rested his hand on your thigh as if it was second nature to do so. trailing his gaze from your glossy lips to the way your jewelry shined against your skin, he couldn’t choose what looked prettier.

“what’s your name?” you asked him, fingers twirling the ends of your hair as you batted your eyelashes up at the handsome man. “just rafe, nothing special.” he shrugged, a nervous laugh leaving his lips once you started trailing an acrylic nail down his chest. you were fully aware of the effect you had on men, but something about rafe endeared you and turned you on at the same time. “nothing special?” you gasped, “you’re the first rafe i’ve ever met, of course you’re special.” it wasn’t often that rafe received any kind of praise, but if someone told him that a woman as beautiful as yourself would be giving that to him tonight, he wouldn’t believe them.

“yeah?” he felt his chest bloom with pride when you smiled. “and your name?” rafe watched as your eyes flickered down to his lips. “y/n.” damn, even your name was perfect, butterflies fluttering in your tummy when you heard him test it out on his tongue. “y/n.. i like that.” both of you laughed to yourselves, exchanging glances as you two decided to share a drink together. rafe surprised himself when he agreed, surely he’d decline if it was anyone else but he felt like he was lucky just by merely being in your presence.

you conversed for a while, trying your best to break rafe out of his shell, in which you were slowly but surely succeeding. now he couldn’t stop smiling down at you, even going as far as cracking a few jokes that you didn’t have to fake a laugh for. “thank goodness you’re funny, i like someone who knows how to have a good time..” maybe it was because you knew you made him nervous, and that alone made you overconfident, but you couldn’t keep your hands to yourself no matter how hard you tried. rafe studied you for a moment, fingertips tracing the neckline of your top.

“i’ve never met someone like you.” you’ve heard that plenty of times, but coming from rafe it felt more genuine and not a ploy to get you in bed.. even though you wouldn’t deny him if he asked. “someone like me?” you leaned in, nearly stealing his breath away when he felt your nails running across the skin underneath his shirt. “y-yeah, you make me feel things.” the revelation made you pause. truth be told, rafe wasn’t the kind of guy you’d expect to hear that from, let alone reciprocate. “you make me feel things, too.” now it was your turn to lose your breath as he leaned in, his thumb stroking your chin.

the second his lips touched yours, you knew you were done for. he was gentle at first, leading the kiss until you felt his tongue swipe across your bottom lip. you soon rested a hand on the back of his neck as if you could pull him any closer than he already was. “come home with me.” rafe pulled away breathlessly, the urgency in his voice bringing him to his feet. “okay..” you nodded, his hand taking yours. “you don’t want to let your friends know?” he looked around, kelce and topper no where to be found.

“no te preocupes— don’t worry about it, they’ll find me.” you and rafe shared a look, a giddy feeling erupting in your tummy as he lead you out of the club and to his truck. “thank god i don’t live far.” you giggled as you watched him jog around to his side of the truck. the ride back to rafe’s place consisted of sloppy kisses and curses under his breath as you ran your palm across his jean-clad erection. “fuck, you’re killing me right now.” he would look down momentarily at your hand, pursing his lips together to keep any sounds from coming out of his mouth.

finally, he pulled into the driveway of tanneyhill, carrying you bridal style up the stairs as your laugh echoed throughout the empty house. once he got you inside his room, he refused to waste time, tossing you on his bed before you two practically ravaged one another. despite having rafe wrapped around your finger, you were the first one to get naked, rafe’s hands roaming your body as if you weren’t real. “holy shit.” he felt overwhelmed, not knowing what to do or where to start.

“how?” he traced the curves of your hips, trailing kisses from the valley of your breasts to your neck. “how the fuck is someone this perfect?” you shimmered under the soft lighting of his room, courtesy of the body glitter your friend doused you in earlier in the night. you cupped his face, wanting to feel his lips on yours again. you couldn’t help but tug at his shirt, hoping he’d get the hint. rafe took the garment off in one swift movement. while he was over here worshipping your body, you were at a loss for words at the sight of his.

you kept your eyes on him as his jeans and boxers were next to go, your thighs rubbing together when his cock sprang up against his stomach. “i don’t think i could let you leave after this..” he slotted himself between your legs, reaching over to his bedside table for a condom. you stopped him once you saw the foiled square between his fingers. “por favor— please, i want you like this.” rafe nearly cried in relief. tossing the condom to a random corner of his room, both of you let out a shaky breath as he lined himself up with your entrance.

he groaned, your slick cunt hugging his cock. “fuck, you’re soaked.” he took one of your hands, interlocking his fingers with yours as you left kisses across his chest. “f-feels so good..” you whimpered, his arm caging you in to keep your body flush against his. “yeah? you’re so fuckin’ pretty, baby.” rafe’s eyebrows knitted in pleasure, his pubic bone hitting your clit. moving your hips to meet his thrusts, rafe’s eyes rolled back when he felt your walls squeezing around his length.

“oh, dios!” your grip on his bicep tightened, your cries sounding like music to rafe’s ears. “what does that mean?” he looked down, pressing a kiss to the corner of your lips. “i said ‘oh, god.’” your voice came out shaky, a particular stroke of his hips making you moan. “you gonna teach me spanish?” you nodded, pulling your hand away from his to run your fingers through his hair. “want to ride you..” you whispered, pushing at his chest so you could go on top.

rafe would’ve been perfectly fine with you being a pillow princess, but after hearing those words leave your mouth, he thought he’d die if he didn’t see you ride his cock. laying on his back, he guided you on top of his lap, where you sunk down on his length, both of you moaning in unison. “shit.” he hissed, his hands now resting on your ass. you yelped, leaning your weight on his chest as you started slamming your hips down on his. “fuck, rafe,” the man underneath you was mesmerized by everything you did.

the rise and fall of your chest with every breath, the way your tits bounced, your bottom lip being trapped between your teeth, all of it was ingrained in his brain now. rafe laid a palm flat against your stomach, using his thumb to rub your clit in fast circles. “i want you to cum around my cock, let me feel it baby.” you cried out, thighs trembling around his waist as your nails dug crescents into his skin.

this was unlike anything you’ve ever felt before, your head rolling to the side while rafe did everything in his power not to fill you up with his cum. “rafe?” you looked down at him, teetering the edge of pure euphoria. “yes?” his mouth hung open, eyes glued to where your pussy took him in with ease. “want you to cum inside me.” that sentence made his eyes shoot up, cock twitching as he neared his high. “are you sure?” he groaned, wrapping both arms around your waist. you hummed, holding onto his shoulders as he fucked into you from below.

“sí— yes, i want it!” your hair fell from it’s updo, a stray curl falling in your face as both of you came. “ah, shit,” rafe panted, your soft velvety walls squeezing around him, taking him for everything he had. you cried out, hugging him to your chest as you shook in his embrace. eventually, your movements came to a stop, the two of you slowly coming down from your highs. “oh, my god.” you sighed, pressing a kiss to his lips before wrapping your arms around his neck. “are you okay?” he moved your hair out of your face, admiring your post-sex afterglow.

you hummed, giving him a shy smile as you hid in the crook of his neck. “y/n?” rafe ran a soothing hand down your back, “how do you say ‘stay the night.’ in spanish?”

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sundrop-writes · 6 hours

Text

One Moment Per Episode With Dick Grayson

Season One, Episode Two: "Hawk and Dove"

Summary:

Even though Dick denies that he needs your help, you can't let other innocent people - like Hank, Dawn, and Rachel - get caught in the crossfire of his stubbornness and annoyance toward you.

So when you have a vision of Dick fleeing back to some of the only friends he knows, you don't hesitate to chase him. And yes - you make sure to bring coffee this time.

Dick Grayson x Fem!Powered!Reader. Childhood Friends/Exes to Lovers. Emotional Angst and Bantering/Humor. Set during Season 1, Episode 2.

Word Count: 6,000

DC Titans Masterlist | AO3 Link | Series Masterlist

Detailed warnings and author's notes below the cut.

Warnings: the reader uses she/her pronouns - I still want to warn that some people might accuse this character of being an OC/might consider this an OC, but the reader received a great reception in the last chapter, so you guys might like her uniqueness if you read this; as usual with my stories, the majority of pronouns used in the fic are you/yours; and other than clothing style and a scar that informs her backstory, the reader's looks are not described and are left vague (as far as race, body type, hair colour, etc. - those things are not described); the reader character does have powers - the reader character is psychic and can see glimpses of the future in dream-like visions; the reader actually has a vision in this one (and there is more descriptions of her visions in general) (looking back, I wish I would have opened the first chapter on a vision of the apocalypse but oh well); the reader and Dick are 'exes' - their relationship was never official (they never explicitly called each other boyfriend/girlfriend), but they used to have sex often (and they both have feelings for each other that they never openly spoke about), and they are childhood friends, so there is a lot of emotional history there; this fic uses Y/N; this whole chapter (and this whole series, really) involves intense criticism of Dick's character - the Titans version specifically - so if you don't like that and if you don't like the Titans characterization of him, then turn back now; mentions of canon-typical violence; non-graphic descriptions of Dick having an infected wound as a child (speaking to his characterization); mentions of non-canon character deaths - happening in non-canon branching paths in the reader's visions (things that don't come true, but have the opportunity to come true if she doesn't interfere); mentions of gun violence; lots of stereotypical monogamous jealousy going on here - some canon, and some not (not the kind of thing my poly ass typically writes, but it does well with Dick's toxic personality, so I like it) - Hank being jealous of Dick and Dawn's reunion, and Dick trying to evoke jealousy from the reader over his past relationship with Dawn (though I have made it clear in the text that Dick doesn't have feelings for Dawn anymore); Dick accidentally pointing a gun at the reader (because of mistaken identity); this time there is equal pining and horniness between Dick and the reader (mostly because I am a simp for Dick in that navy button down shirt, unf); mentions of Dick's past trauma (the death of his parents) and his PTSD reactions because of it; mentions of Dick and the reader having sex in the past and their sexual desire toward each other and some mild sexual themes, but there is no explicit smut in this chapter (there might be some in future chapters); the reader gets injured in a fight with The Family; mentions of Dawn's canon injuries and subsequent coma; I believe that's it for this part.

A/N: I actually wanna say that this chapter was complete and ready to be edited in my drafts, and because of the comments and feedback I got on the last chapter, I actually went in and made some additions to this chapter. People really seemed to like the banter between Dick and the reader character, and there wasn't much of it in this part, so I made sure to add more of it - because if you guys tell me that you like a certain aspect of a fic, I will play up that aspect in future chapters or in future fics. That is why commenting matters. Writers listen to your detailed feedback and put it into future stories - we aren't just looking for comments to stroke our egos. So if you guys like this chapter and the banter in it, know that you helped shape it from what it originally was!

...

Dick had basically told you to fuck off - he didn’t want to be involved, but he already was.

The events were already set into motion around him, and there was nothing he could do to stop it now. So - rather than turn around and go all the way back home, you had simply gotten a hotel room in Detroit, waiting for him to ask for your help, or waiting for some signal that he would truly need you.

You fell into an easy sleep, and soon - that signal came to you.

…

A rooftop. Two old friends. Tense smiles under a beautifully bright day that didn’t suit them.

“She killed someone?” Dawn nods toward Rachel, who is sitting beside the large dove house that Hank built, looking at the gentle animals in quiet fascination. She feels peaceful in their presence. “She’s just a kid.”

That’s what he wants. He wants everyone to underestimate her.

“Whoever they are, they’ve got people in the department.” Dick replies.

He’s talking about the people who kidnapped her right out from under his nose - the ones who nearly succeeded in making her a ritual sacrifice. Just one of many forces that were coming after her. One of many forces that seek to harm her.

“We needed somewhere safe to regroup.” He adds on. “And think about what I’m gonna do.”

Somewhere safe?

“What about Bruce?” Dawn poses.

Of course Dick wouldn’t go fleeing back to him. Daddy issues. He thinks of Dawn and Hank as his true family. The Titans have always been his true family. Since losing the Circus, it’s the only family that he’s known.

Oh. Somewhere safe. Of course.

Dick visibly shudders at the thought of going back to Bruce. “He’s no good with kids.”

That's an understatement.

“A cop, huh?” Dawn gives him a small grin. “That’s one I never would’ve figured.”

Well, he seeks out order. But he's a stubborn, bull-headed person who demands to be the leader at all times. He’s terrible at following rules that he hasn't made - terrible at falling under someone else's authority. He thinks that being a police officer is bringing forth real justice.

It was never meant to last.

Dick knew this. He doesn’t like admitting his own faults. So, he rushes to change the subject.

“How are you?” He asks Dawn, clearly curious.

It’s almost as though he wants her to say that her life has been notably worse without the Titans. Just like his has been.

It's been too long since he's spoken to her. He loves running without looking back. It’s something that he’s very good at.

“We’re great.” Dawn answers, flashing him a smile. She's insistent on this ‘we' - reminding Dick that she's not alone. She's not a single person anymore. “Hank’s feeling the life a little. Age waits for no man, and all that.”

Of course. This should have been obvious to him, but he’s a little too absorbed in his own problems to consider it.

“How bad?” Dick asks the obvious question.

“Two fractures, three concussions in the last year, and a herniated disc.” Dawn replies honestly.

Dick has been through worse. He acts like it’s nothing, but it’s not. He’s the type of man to attempt to put a band-aid on a bullet wound. While traveling with the Circus, he stepped on a nail once, and tried to hide it from his parents - pulled it out himself and only told them when the wound began to fester and get infected.

Fiercely independent and stubborn, even back then.

“Jesus, Dawn.”

Yet, he acts as though this is surprising. He acts as though this isn’t the norm when you exchange your bodily safety for the safety of others.

“We’re still good out there, Dick.” She presses, sounding as though she is trying to convince herself. They need the team. That’s what’s missing. The downfall of her confidence. “Really good. But one slip-up-”

“You should quit.” Dick declares this firmly, confidently. He always believes his own authority as fact. “You both should.”

Deep down, he knows that both Dawn and Hank will never quit. Like himself, they do not take well to ‘retirement’. They will die doing this job or they will find quieter ways to keep doing good - but they will never rest. Rest feels too selfish.

“That’s the plan.” Dawn replies. It feels like a lie coming out of her mouth, and she smiles around the discomfort of it. “As soon as we take out these gun suppliers he’s obsessed with. One more chance to do some good and then he promised he’s out.”

Suddenly, there was a flash of something else.

Guns. Piles and piles of guns. Dawn being shot in the head from behind. Bright red blood soaking into white hair. A sneak attack while they have their guard down. Hank, overwhelmed by grief, unable to consider his own life as enemies surround him.

He is forcefully pulled off her limp body.

His screams bounce off the concrete walls as he is chained up and tortured.

Things never go according to plan, do they?

Dick gives her a sharp look as he considers the possibilities. Almost as if, due to his paranoia, he too can see the future.

He wants to offer his help, or tell them simply not to go, but Dawn steals the words off his tongue.

“You could help us out.” She remarks brightly.

Yes, he could. He should.

Another flash of similar events.

This ends just as bloody. Similar howls of pain echo through the warehouse. Hank is limping as Dawn supports him, but all three of them are alive. They all make it back to the apartment alive.

Dick is working on his personal definition of justice. It’s not exactly clean. (But it works.)

But still, he hesitates.

“I’m out of the life, Dawn.”

Liar.

Suddenly, Hank appears. He is surprisingly quiet for someone so large.

“The hell are you doin’ here, Dick?” He barks out the name like poison - in a harsh, jutting way that many others have done before him.

Everyone becomes tense. It’s an unwelcome reunion.

“Hank.” Dawn speaks his name curtly - a reminder. Mind your temper.

“I had a situation.” Dick tries to explain himself, being far too vague.

But again, how does one cleanly summarize encountering a young girl with powers like Rachel’s and being so unsure how to handle it? And of course, Dick hates to admit being unsure of himself. He hates to admit needing help. He prefers to phrase things delicately - as though this were a choice, a fun day trip, rather than the desperate fleeing that it truly is.

“Nice little reunion you got goin’ here.” Hank says sarcastically.

“You know it’s not like that.” Dick replies.

He is right, but poor at defending himself against Hank’s flare of jealousy. He is so walled off that he doesn’t dare to admit he doesn’t have eyes for Dawn anymore, even in the slightest. That relationship was nice, but those feelings died out long ago. He simply can’t see her in a romantic light anymore because his heart belongs to someone he believes could never want him in return.

Follies for another time.

“Sure looks like it to me.” Hank grunts in return.

“Hank.” Dawn says his name sharper this time, capturing his attention as he stares at Dick with fire burning in his eyes.

She nods toward Rachel, who is staring at all of them with confusion.

It’s her. She’s the reason why we’re all here. She’s the reason we’re all going to be alive years from now.

“What the fuck?” Hank is confused. Reasonable.

“Can we just go back inside, please?”

Good idea.

…

You woke up in a cold sweat, fumbling around numbly to turn on the lamp of the hotel room that you were staying in. Having your mind widen across the astral plane could be absolutely exhausting.

Of course Dick had gone back to them.

Looks like you were headed to DC.

…

“Dawn, you can’t hit this job. Look at the number of security contractors here-”

“Come on, don’t change the subject.”

Dawn was cut off from speaking any further by a loud thud coming from the front door. Something almost akin to a knock. Hank (who had gone out to pick up some beer) had a key, so - that definitely wasn’t him. Rachel was in the guest room watching Game of Thrones -

Dick and Dawn exchanged a look, both thinking the same thing.

There was someone at the door. Someone unannounced.

And whoever was at the door might be someone looking for Rachel - someone seeking to harm her. In the kind of silent communication that had only been developed over years of working together as a team, Dick gave Dawn a nod and she calmly raised from her chair to go and check on Rachel. And then he grabbed his service pistol, flicking the safety off and cocking it - he swiftly walked to the front door, and while pointing the gun at whoever was outside.

It was a clear warning, and also ready to fire if the person tried barging in. Dick opened the door slowly, and peered into the hallway, his heart beating rapidly in his chest as he waited to see who it was.

You.

It was you.

He let out a sharp breath of relief when the information fully penetrated his brain - the fact that it was you standing there, and not someone intending to do him or Rachel harm. Not an enemy.

You were standing there as innocently as ever, wearing a red dress with a beautiful paisley pattern on it - still sporting those same brown leather boots and that same cozy jacket. Again, you looked so damn beautiful, and it shouldn’t have been comforting, and Dick shouldn’t have been filled with want. You were holding a paper tray full of coffee cups - which you had pressed against your breast for balance, and in the other hand, you had a large brown bag that seemed to be full of pastries from the smell.

“Fuck.” He swore sharply, his arm still holding the gun up stiffly - his body still filled with the conflicting fight or flight response pumping through him, unanswered.

You let out a bright laugh at this, seemingly amused by Dick’s tense aura.

“Your greetings get more pleasant everytime I see you, Dick.” You said, nodding toward the gun that was still extended in your direction.

He let out another tense breath, and forcefully unlocked his forearm then, in order to put the gun down. He put the safety back on and tucked it into the back of his waistband as he opened the door fully to let you inside.

“You really are such a warm and welcoming person.” You added on, sarcasm ripe in your voice.

“You’re an asshole.” Dick replied, still feeling the ache of a fight or flight response tearing through him as he tried to calm down.

He knew that you hadn’t meant to scare him - or maybe you had, seeing as you hadn’t apologized, and seemed to find the whole thing entirely amusing. But at least you weren’t someone that he actually needed to shoot. So that was a plus.

“I am not.” You replied snarkily, stepping past Dick and making your way into the apartment. “I’m nice. You told me that next time I should bring coffee, and I did. That’s the farthest thing from being an asshole.”

“Dick, what’s going on?” Dawn called out, stepping out from the guest room with Rachel hot on her heels.

Realization spread across her features when she saw you placing your goodies on the counter as Dick closed and locked the front door.

“Y/N,” Dawn smiled, walking over to give you a hug after you had set everything down.

You embraced her tightly for a moment before she pulled away with a smile. Dick rolled his eyes at this - still annoyed at your presence. He would never admit it, but he was upset that Dawn was much happier to see you than she had been when he had arrived.

“Another friend?” Rachel asked, hovering at the edge of the kitchen, slightly hesitant of you.

“A good friend.” Dawn confirmed, shining her smile toward Rachel. “Rachel, this is Y/N. Y/N, this is-”

“Rachel. Hi.” You cut off Dawn as she made the introduction, giving a gentle wave toward Rachel while she nodded shyly at you.

“A friend who’s not supposed to be here.” Dick added on gruffly.

“Grumpy grumps don’t get danishes.” You said, holding up the large brown paper bag.

Dick sighed and rolled his eyes, wanting to protest about you distracting from the larger point with pastries - but technically, he had asked you to bring them.

“We’ve got… a medium vanilla latte for Dawn,” You pulled the cup out of the tray, now doling out the coffee orders. It was something that you knew partially from memory, and partially from the omnipotence that came with your powers.

She took it with a quiet ‘thank you’.

“A small black coffee with extra sugar for Rachel.” You offered her the paper cup, and she loosened up on her hesitance toward you, eagerly leaning in to grab it. She smiled at the fact that you knew her preference and didn’t question her for drinking coffee at such a young age.

“Thanks.” She said brightly.

“A large black coffee for grumpy pants.” You said, holding out a cup towards Dick.

When he reached for it, you teasingly swiped it back before you actually gave it to him, and he heaved out another sigh.

“Are you gonna tell me what you’re doing here?” He asked sharply as he popped open the lid on the cup and took a sip.

You decided to ignore him.

“And an Americano for Hank.” You went on speaking about the coffee, rather than answering Dick’s question. “What kind of sociopath drinks watered down espresso anyway?”

“He-” Dawn spoke up, about to tell you that Hank was at the store, not even there to enjoy it while it was still hot. But then, there was the sound of lock and key in the door and it came bursting open.

“Dawn, I got your stupid fru-fru coconut ice cream. I had to go to three different stores for it, and-”

When Hank saw everyone gathered in the kitchen, including the surprising addition of you, he glared as he kicked the door shut behind him.

“Well, isn’t this a real goddamn-”

“A real goddamn summer camp.” You cut him off, literally stealing the words out of his mouth.

“God, I fucking hate it when you do that.” Hank sighed, a visible stiffness running through him - similar to the way Dick looked when you said ominous things. He was creeped out and defensive at the same time.

“Would a pecan cinnamon roll make you feel better?” You posed, pulling a smaller bag out of the bag of pastries and offering it to him.

“You know, you always were my favorite.” He replied, quickly changing his tune as he came to grab the treat from you, a snarky smile spreading across his lips.

Dick reached for the brown bag sitting on the counter to get one of those danishes you had mentioned. You saw this out of the corner of your eye, and you snatched it away from him. You had meant what you said. He tensed up visibly but didn’t argue.

Dawn giggled, pointedly looking between the two of you before she reached into the bag herself - of course, only for you to slide it closer to her.

Dick sighed harshly and tried to move on from the subject. “Now, are you gonna tell me what you’re doing here?”

…

It wasn’t long before Dick sequestered you away, demanding answers. He dragged you into Dawn and Hank’s bathroom, actually. This left Dawn to awkwardly fill the space with Rachel, who was wondering who you were, and was asking more questions as she sensed the tension between you and Dick. Meanwhile, Hank scarfed down his pecan bun without a single care about the circumstances of your visit now that he was fed.

You sat on the edge of the bathtub with your arms crossed, looking at Dick with firm calculation, just like you always did, waiting for him to speak. He shoved his hands in his pockets - something that made his whole stance tense and broad and horribly appealing. It was something that reminded you that he had stayed perfectly fit since you had last seen him - and he had nothing but fine, firm muscles under that shirt.

You forced yourself to focus as he stiffened his jaw and stared right back at you.

“Well?” He scoffed.

“‘Well’ what, Grayson?” You nagged back, knowing fully well what he meant.

He sharply rolled his eyes. That seemed to be a reaction that you invoked from him quite frequently.

“Why the hell did you follow me?” He sighed, his breath too tired to be as fully demanding as he intended.

You wondered when the last time he had slept was. He was someone who wore insomnia strangely well, especially considering that Bruce had driven him to be sleepless since his teen years. It was something that he was accustomed to by now, so he never got the ‘bags under eyes’, ‘half dead’ thing that most other people did when they didn’t sleep. He simply looked like himself.

You hated how much internal destruction and self abuse suited him.

“Who says I followed you?” You replied, your natural instinct toward snark acting up again. “Maybe I just felt like dropping by. Dawn and Hank are my friends, too.”

You almost added on ‘apparently they like me more than they like you, anyway’ - but you didn’t feel the need to kick him so badly when he was already down.

Dick let out a quiet growl, reaching up to firmly pinch the bridge of his nose with his finger and a thumb.

Already, you were wearing his patience thin.

You knew that you couldn’t tell him the truth.

One thing you knew for certain - Dick Grayson was a control freak. It was something that had been carved into him by trauma and fully solidified by years of training with Bruce.

That night, so long ago - having his parents slip out from his grasp when he had been so young, while performing a routine that they were known for courageously doing without a safety net. A routine that they were so certain of and knew so well, having never factored in the act of murderous sabotage that ultimately killed them - it made Dick want to obsessively control every single aspect of his life and everyone else’s around him.

Not only did he want to help those around him avoid danger, but he wanted the people around him to behave exactly how he imagined that they should at all times.

He was constantly on the lookout for frayed ropes - for the unexpected variables that might be the downfall of someone that he loved. He felt that his parents’ death had been his fault, that he hadn’t been diligent enough that night, so he needed to be hypervigilant in every other aspect of his life to keep more people from dying.

It was part of the reason that you bothered him so much. You were always unexpected - always a wild variable that he had to chase down. Whether it was your actions, your words, or your reactions to the things that he did and said - he felt like he could never predictably nail you down, and he absolutely fucking hated it. (It was probably also one of the reasons that he got such a fantastic release from fucking you - but that was a box of emotional issues he was not yet willing to open.)

But - being the control freak that he was - he liked to try and control the outcome of your visions.

Yes, you did see the future in your visions. And yes, the version of that future that you saw could sometimes be changed. It was part of the reason that you tried to interfere to stop bad things. You had seen many things before that had never come true - both good things and terrible things.

But you had warned Dick time and time again that the future is not random. You never saw simple flashes of random possible outcomes and one of those realities might come true. No - you saw people’s intentions. You saw the results of the choices that people make.

If someone intended to commit a murder - you would see death. If they changed their mind - you would see life. If someone interfered to stop that murder - the future could change in a lot of strange ways because of it.

Life is a winding path with a lot of branches to it, and when someone makes a choice, some of those branches die off.

Dick Grayson’s controlling, all mighty, ‘need to interfere’ mindset certainly had a way of changing the future. He constantly felt the need to use the information from your visions to force people into making the ‘right’ choice. But sometimes, on the path we choose to avoid our fate, we run headfirst into it.

You were never going to tell him - but Dick and his controlling nature had gotten people killed before.

You had discovered over time that it was better to simply not tell him things - to hold back information until it was the right time for him to hear it.

“Do you actually enjoy being irritating?” Dick rasped harshly at you. “Or is it just something that you’re good at?”

You shrugged. “Probably both.”

He let out another stiff breath.

“Look, I’m here for Rachel.” You said, trying to correct course. “She’s mourning, she’s confused, her powers are out of control. She needs someone to help guide her. Someone who might be able to show her how to keep her powers under control.”

“O-kay.” Dick said, clearly dubious, not fully convinced. He looked at you with his brows firmly knit, and you felt the need to further convince him.

“Look, I’m not stalking you if you think that’s what it is.” You added on. “I had a vision, I saw you and Dawn on the roof-”

“Okay, okay, I get it now.” Dick smirked sarcastically, crossing his arms firmly over his chest, making his biceps bulge inside of his button down shirt in a way that was far too appealing.

Focus - you reminded yourself. Focus.

“What?” You replied, genuinely confused.

“You don’t like me spending time with Dawn.” He declared, continuing to smirk at you as though it were the most obvious thing in the world.

More than anything, this left you utterly fucking confused.

“What?” You chuckled, repeating the word like a gaping parrot - a nervous, awkward edge in your voice.

You liked Dawn. She was one of your best friends.

And you didn’t give a rat’s ass if Dick and Dawn spent time together. Especially because you knew that Dick coming here was him fleeing to a friend while in crisis, not him looking for a hookup. Especially not while Dawn and Hank were together. Dawn was nothing if not intensely loyal.

And nothing would have happened while Hank was in the apartment. You had never seen Dick and Hank fight - but Hank was just a bit bigger, and because of his upbringing, he had absolutely no qualms about fighting dirty, even when he was fighting a friend. So you knew who you would bet on in that fight.

So - what the hell was Dick talking about?

Even with your strange sense of omnipotence, you couldn’t tell at the time - Dick was baiting you. Hard. He wanted you to flip out, to get jealous.

It was the emotionally stunted thing to do, but he wanted to see some sense that you cared.

At least Hank going full cave-man mode upon seeing Dick meant that he thought what he had with Dawn was precious and worth protecting. It meant that he saw Dick as a threat.

When you continued to stare at Dick with nothing but confusion, gaping like a fish, he flailed, realizing what a terrible move this was. And for some stupid reason, instead of dropping the subject altogether, he dug himself deeper into the hole.

“You know, the thing with me and Dawn is all in the past.” He said, mentally squirming, waiting to see how you would react. “There’s really nothing going on between us.”

“Yeah.” You smoothed your lips into a firm line, completely uncaring about this line of conversation. “Good for you.”

Perhaps mistaking the annoyance in these words as the jealousy that he was so urgently seeking, his tone completely changed then. Like a child throwing a tantrum, he had gotten the negative energy that he wanted from the interaction - so he kept on digging in.

“Okay, you know what?” He snapped. “If you’re not gonna tell me why you’re really here, then I’m just gonna have to assume that you’re bullshitting.”

“Oh, I’m bullshitting?” You replied, resisting the urge to break into a grin.

He had seen solid proof of your powers on many occasions. He had seen you do things that couldn’t be proven by science. So why was he only accusing you of ‘bullshitting’ right now?

“Yes.” He replied stoically. “You didn’t see anything - you don’t actually know anything. You don’t know shit. You’re probably just guessing, and making shit up as you go along and hoping people will believe you.”

“Okay.” You shrugged.

You were unphased by this declaration. You knew by now to trust your visions - even if Dick was revoking that trust. You knew that you had solid information, and if you didn’t follow it, the lives of the people that you loved were at risk.

You guessed that this was just Dick throwing a tantrum because you wouldn’t share that information with him.

Dick ground his teeth. Unconsciously, he was still intensely frustrated that he hadn’t gotten more of a reaction out of you. Whether it was the information that he was looking for - or some greater sense of anger or urgency that he felt when you were around. But he needed something. He needed to know that you still felt something because of him.

You were always so damn calm. Far too calm for his liking.

“You’re just guessing.” He pressed on. “It’s not that hard to know I would come here. You just fucking followed me because-”

“So you’re saying that all the military tactics Bruce taught you never paid off, and you’re intensely predictable when fleeing under pressure?” You chuckled, pointing out the flaws in his own logic.

Dick flinched.

He hated how uncomfortable your words made him. Squirming in that discomfort - he went low.

“And you’re admitting that you’re just a bullshit carnival psychic like your mother was?”

It was a tender wound.

The moment that your face fell - shifting from mild amusement at your own joke to intense pain and hurt - Dick’s insides recoiled with regret.

“Y/N-” He sighed.

“Nope.” You cut him off sharply, shoving past him.

He let you, finally allowing you to escape the tense air of the bathroom so you could go out and properly catch up with Dawn while drinking your coffee.

…

No matter how angry you were with him, you couldn’t let him die.

Even as you laughed and chatted with Dawn, and got to know Rachel a bit, you couldn’t get the flashes of horrifying possible futures out of your mind.

…

Where is Dick Grayson? Where is Dick Grayson? Where is he?

A crazed family singing showtunes. A skipping rope being used as a whip - knives plunging through flesh. Torture. Pain. Screams.

You saw Dick fleeing with Rachel in the night, believing that he had made the right decision to protect her. Believing that he was keeping you, and Dawn and Hank safe. You heard a sharp screech of tires as he was cut off on a dark backroad by an old-fashioned station wagon with wooden paneling. A car crash. Dick flew through the front windshield - and as he bled to death, his last moments were spent hearing Rachel’s cries for help as she was dragged from the car.

Bad decision.

Dick spoke about ‘some job’ that Hank and Dawn were planning and instantly, there were flashes through your mind of Dawn shot in the head, laying on the floor in a pool of her own blood - Hank’s screams of anguish as he was chained and tortured.

They need his help.

Why were you there?

To stop those bad decisions. Hopefully.

You couldn’t explain it all to Dick - you couldn’t play it all out for him so simply. He was a control freak. If you told him all the details, then he would insist on making a choice. He would insist on running the play. And he might make one of those stupid choices. You had to avoid making the same mistake that your mother had. Don’t give those stubborn, powerful men too much information and trust them to use it wisely - because they most likely won’t.

“You should go with them.” You told Dick, your voice curt - the first time that you had acknowledged him in hours.

He seemed shocked by you even looking in his direction, let alone speaking to him after the comment he had made.

“Look, Y/N-”

“I’ll stay with Rachel.” You added on.

When Rachel eagerly agreed to this, it seemed to seal the deal for him.

He acted as though it was his plan all along.

Whatever made him feel better about it.

…

You and Rachel ended up on the rooftop. She gravitated toward the doves - she found them calming, as she told you.

“How do you know Dick?” She asked you, clearly unable to keep down that curiosity that was naturally biting at her.

With the cool night air whipping at your cheeks, you found it easy to be vulnerable with her.

“We grew up together.” You told her.

“You were a part of the Circus?” She asked, giving a small amused grin at the thought.

“Yes.” You confirmed, mirroring her smile. Sometimes the nostalgia was painful, but unlike Dick, you didn’t try to forget it. “My mother was a fortune teller - a psychic. She was considered one of the best. People would come from miles around, or even follow the Circus from place to place just to have their palm read by her.”

Rachel laughed at this, clearly amused.

“So what - she had a big crystal ball, and she would read the lines on your hand to tell you how long you’re gonna live?”

You shrugged.

“Something like that.” You confirmed.

There was a beat of silence. Knowing what Rachel was going through, you felt the need to confess something to her.

“My mother - she died when I was about your age.” You told her, knowing that it was likely something she needed to hear.

It can always be comforting to know that you’re not alone.

Rachel looked at you with large, piercing eyes - heavy grief still dancing there. It was still so fresh. Your heart ached for her.

“What happened?” She asked.

With her powers, you were surprised that she didn’t already know.

But you thought it apt to explain it to her.

“My mother didn’t just do card tricks and read palms.” You said. “She was special. Special like us, special.”

A distinct look of dawning came across Rachel’s features.

“She had powers.” She said softly.

You nodded.

“So, wait - are these kinds of powers… genetic?” She asked eagerly, seeming to perk with interest at this.

Suddenly, a million long-dead questions about a father she had never known overtook her like a tidal wave.

Obviously, her mother had been perfectly normal. Had she gotten her powers from her father? If she found him, would he be able to tell her who she truly was?

“I suppose so.” You answered meekly, hating that you didn’t know for certain. “I hate that I can’t say for sure.”

Rachel’s face fell at this.

Then, something occurred to her.

“How did your mom’s powers kill her?” She asked.

“It - it wasn’t really her powers that killed her.” You began to explain. “It was more… the way she used them.”

Rachel looked at you expectantly, and you continued.

“Before she died… she saw what happened to Dick’s parents in a vision. How they died.” You explained. “She tried to stop it, and the people who were intent on killing them weren’t too happy about it. So they killed her too.”

It was a fate that you were constantly trying to avoid - stumbling into death while trying to save those that you loved. It was one of the reasons that you put up with so much attitude from Dick Grayson. You would much rather have him alive and giving you lip than have him dead because of some mistake that you made.

Rachel looked pensive for a moment - watching the birds as they rested in their large cage.

“Is that why you’re helping us now?” She asked quietly. “You’re trying to keep us from getting killed?”

“I’m doing my best.” You remarked, anxious hope ripe in your voice.

…

Clustering voices. A tense argument.

It was broken up by -

“Hello there.”

The faux sweetness of a dangerous stranger.

Fear shook you. The sound gave you a sense of deja vu. You recognized them from a far off vision.

Before you could warn the others, it broke into a brutal fight.

You used all the training you had, but you were distracted by Dick being thrown off the roof. Something hit you in the head, hard - you heard Dawn cry out for help, and you saw a cluster of blonde hair and limbs as she went flying.

Rachel screamed and reached out for you and you desperately reached back - you were dizzy and blinking heavily and didn’t even remember being knocked down.

“Dawn! Dawn!”

You heard Dick shouting urgently and then you realized in horror that she might be dead.

Dawn.

You were sluggish and felt wetness on the side of your face that must have been blood, but you forcibly peeled yourself off the ground, stumbling toward the sound of Dick’s voice - toward the fire escape. You tripped down a few of the stairs, your blurred eyes only focused on the shape of them - him crouching over her body, blonde hair splayed across the pavement, limp legs.

She’s not dead.

She can’t be.

When you made it to her, you fell to your knees beside her. With the last of her energy, she locked eyes with you.

Fear. Anxiety. Terror. Trust.

She knew that you would help her.

Her eyes drifted closed, and Dick panicked.

“Dawn, Dawn!”

“Be quiet.” You barked at him.

You needed to concentrate.

“You’re telling me to shut up?” He griped back, his fear and panic foaming up through his lips as intense anger directed towards you. “Shouldn’t you have seen this coming? What happened to-?”

“I don’t appreciate the attitude.” You ground out, looking up at him to find nothing but pure fear staring back at you. “Now - Shut. Up.”

You placed your hand gently onto Dawn’s forehead - you concentrated hard, focusing your powers on her. You couldn’t do anything about her physical injuries, but you could preserve the parts of her that mattered the most. You could keep her spirit alive. You could lock her memories away in a safe place so that she would be whole when her body healed.

“What kind of voodoo bullshit is she doing?” Hank huffed out, having just made it down the fire escape himself.

“Be quiet and let her work.” Dick told him, waving a dismissive hand in Hank’s direction.

For once in their lives, both of the men sat in silence, actually deferring to you and following your lead.

They trusted you to do something good for her, rather than doing more harm.

...

A/N: If you want to be tagged in future parts of this, you can sign up for my DC Titans taglist - just let me know that you want to be a part of that taglist by commenting below, and keep in mind that I have taglist rules. Also, I only have a general taglist for DC Titans fics, not a specific taglist for this series because this series updates sporadically and not on a schedule.

Please do not ask me when this fic will be updated - this fic does not have a schedule.

While this is technically part of a 'series', each chapter is meant to be enjoyed on its own. The overarching plot of the series is still that of the original Titans show, and I won't be making any major changes to the canon of the show - I just intend to showcase smaller emotional moments between the reader character and the canon characters. This is something I want to work on casually in the background between working on other things. This fic is not my main focus, and I will not be rushing to update it or complete it.

To me, this fic is a nice slow casual walk through the woods to enjoy the scenery, rather than a marathon with a clearly outlined route and a specific finish line as other series have been for me in the past.

Comments and reblogs are encouraged, and I am thankful for them - but please keep those comments focused on the actual content of the series - it's plot, the characters, their dynamics, even predictions for the plot of future chapters are okay, as long as you are not asking when the fic will be updated. Please do not spam me asking me to update this or asking me when I will update this - because I am not in a rush to do so. I have a lot of ideas for this series that I am excited about, but I want to work on it slowly and casually because I don't want to lose my enthusiasm for it and I know that rushing will take that enthusiasm away.

If you enjoyed this - great, thank you, I am so glad that you do. But if you expect this to be updated weekly like a factory pumping out stuff on a clearly outlined schedule - then you are in the wrong place. If you are expecting constant updates of this fic and you will be disappointed if it doesn't get updated regularly - you should just block me now and pretend you didn't read it.

But if you are a patient person - feel free to read and enjoy my other Titans works while I am working on updates for this (and working on other exciting things). I particularly recommend reading Your First Kiss With Dick Grayson to scratch that emotionally constipated Dick Grayson itch if this fic left you feening. Also, feel free to send me a message telling me what you thought of this fic or other fics in general.

Also - if you can't get Dick Grayson off your mind - my requests are open. And I would really love some requests for shorter fics with Dick, like headcanons or reactions. Otherwise, comments are appreciated and I really hope that you have a great day!

#sundrop writes #dc titans #titans fanfiction #dc titans fanfiction #dick grayson #dick grayson x reader #dick grayson x y/n #dick grayson x female!reader #dick grayson x you #bat boys x reader #dick grayson imagine

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sylladextrous · 1 month

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"okay maybe I AM pretty..." says the most gorgeous girl you've ever seen in your life as she looks into the mirror

#this post is about trans girls yall better not derail #and more specifically about my girlfriend #chloe.txt

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magpie-trinkets · 1 month

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continuing that "maya tries to contact claire" post, i present you the post-Spirit of Justice follow-up

#post that caters to ME specifically #let me first tag #ghost trick spoilers #lost future spoilers #now that that's out of the way. you know who's on that suitcase ;)#also claire is fucked up by time travel shenanigans so it's possible let's just say #also ghost powers grow and change with time sooooo. let's play with canon #layton “i have a dead girlfriend” and yomiel “i had a dead girlfriend” bisexuals #also yes the whole gang traveled to london they're just strolling around #maya had unfinished business and now that she's more powerful she's BACK #this would take place 7-or-so years after lost future/plvspw so layton is in his mid-forties here. i had to look it so correct me if im not #also yes this is a crossover AU i have rotating in my mind i love the source material and layton's and claire whole thing no shade to that #powerful narrative that made me cry #but with aa and gt magic fuckery we have the technology #also about the jail bit. that's a fic i am writing (one sentence every month)#ghost trick #professor layton #ace attorney #my art #ms paint #GOD. that wall of text is surely something

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messiahzzz · 3 months

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while it’s perfectly fine to have your own headcanons that are non-canon compliant — by all means, go wild. recognizing pieces of yourselves in fictional characters can be a very healing and validating experience. this is nonetheless a casual, well-intentioned reminder that gale, in fact, does not have bpd.

bpd is a pervasive pattern of instability affecting interpersonal relationships, self-image, and mood. the disorder is marked by impulsivity beginning in early adulthood and is present in a variety of contexts. a diagnosis requires at least 5 of the following 9 criteria to be met:

Fear of abandonment

Unstable or changing relationships

Unstable self-image; struggles with identity or sense of self

Impulsive or self-damaging behaviors (e.g., excessive spending, unsafe sex, substance abuse, reckless driving, binge eating).

Suicidal behavior or self-injury

Varied or random mood swings

Constant feelings of worthlessness or sadness

Problems with anger, including frequent loss of temper or physical fights

Stress-related paranoia or loss of contact with reality

source: [x]

i highlighted the criteria that do apply to gale in one way or another in a pretty purple.

i personally believe that it’s rather harmful to equate his relationship with mystra with her being “his fp”. she is a deity, his goddess, and the source of his powers, who is in in full control of the magic he wields.

gale: mystra commands all magic. salvation, if such a thing exists, is hers to bestow or withhold.

gale has been effectively groomed and conditioned to serve and revere her at every turn since early childhood. imo this comparison really undermines a lot of crucial points in gale’s story that deal with his overall trauma and abuse. after all, you wouldn’t call shar sh*dowhe*rt’s fp either.

gale doesn’t revile mystra, nor does he commit benevolent deeds solely motivated by the secret hope that she will somehow notice and take him back. when you meet gale in the game he has already fully come to terms with the fact that he has been abandoned by mystra with no hope of reconciliation whatsoever. he also had some very fitting lines in ea regarding this topic that i'm sad haven't been repurposed in the full release in some way.

gale: [the tadpoles] don't know that some things are impossible. they don't know that... they don't know. player: what is impossible about what you're being shown? gale: forgiveness. gale: it is mystra i see. and yet it cannot be her. there was a time when i would have believed - but no longer. gale: suffice it to say she would not bestow upon me the favors promised in these dreams. that is how i know they are delusions.

he has already reached the stage of acceptance. moreover, gale only starts to realize that mystra might have been in the wrong for requesting his death once the tadpole squad & tav speak some sense into him. and even then he doesn’t ever show that his emotions regarding mystra are anywhere along those lines. he is instead rightfully angered that she only saw value in his death, after he had been worshipping her loyally for years.

gale: i worshipped mystra loyally for years, and in that time she granted me the barest sliver of the power i was ready to wield. gale: even with the fate of the world at stake, she had little more to offer me than the means of blowing myself up at a more convenient time. she's done nothing to help us.

gale: you abandoned me in my hour of greatest need. i had no obligation to help you in yours. gale: because you had no right to ask that of me. you cast me out, remember?

gale doesn’t display rapid changes in mood either. he is a character who is generally very composed and has been known to remain nonchalant even in the face of utter horror. tim downie himself even commented on this once. source: [x]

the only instance i can think of is his sudden switch from resigned-to-death to utter-eye-sparkling-enthusiasm once he spots the crown of karsus. apart from crucial story reasons that i won’t touch upon in this post, i’d also like to add that it’s a rather common phenomenon for people who have just barely survived a suicide attempt to suddenly be filled with zeal and unbridled energy. he doesn't display impulsivity without thorough consideration when it comes to its acquisition either. he considers this a golden opportunity and is positively enthusiastic and elated that this might prove an alternative to him ending up in a cloud of netherese smoke. nonetheless, he knows what he is doing. evident in him actually succeeding in ascending in one of his endings.

gale: this is no passing whim, trust me. if i can obtain that crown, it will affect us all. it is not a decision i'll take lightly. gale: it's our future that i'm thinking of - we can't rely on anyone else to do it for us. gale: for now - we've learned all we can.

neither are his relationships that we do know of (namely elminster, tara, and morena) frequently changing. they are marked by years of mutual respect, care, and consistency. there is nothing unstable about them. while it's important to note that his relationship with tav is still in its honeymoon stages during the main game, there is no inclination of any push-and-pull dynamic between them whatsoever.

gale isn’t preoccupied with keeping up some sort of benevolent act in order to win (back) affection — he genuinely IS a good person and he proves this at every turn. moreover, to have a tressym become your familiar you must be of Good alignment.

(taken from tumblr user galedekarios's post.)

there is never a moment where his ideals or alignment suddenly change. in fact, i’d argue that he and wyll are most consistent in this regard when compared to the rest of the companions. gale makes his moral standpoint very clear from the beginning on and also explicitly states that he believes that in order to survive this entire ordeal it would be selfish of him if he wouldn’t be willing to compromise on his morals. this isn’t a sudden bout of ✨muahahaha wizard hubris✨ that he barely contained to hold in before, this is yet another act of selflessness — it is what he’s willing to do for the group and subsequently, the welfare of faerun.

player: i love unsavoury things. don't feel guilty on my account. gale: that's good to know. although i should say i do what i do out of a sense of utility and pragmatism, not a love of the unsavoury. gale: we're up against the greatest threat faerun has ever faced. i don't mind getting my hands dirty if it gives us a better chance of surviving. gale: whatever advantage i can gain for us. i will. and i refuse to feel guilty for it, no matter how much mystra's chidings might echo in my skull.

this is him, once again trying to be useful in whatever way he can. to give them an advantage, a slither of hope against seemingly impossible odds, so they might make it out of this in one piece. gale wouldn’t approve of those actions under normal circumstances, but their predicament is as far from any definition of “normal” as it can get.

gale is no fool, he realizes this is essentially about survival. he knows that he has no option left other than to tolerate, which is why he can be convinced to not immediately depart tav’s company even if they choose to commit atrocities. this is no character flaw of his or him displaying a previously dormant openness for cruelty, this is about recognizing the necessity.

player: you don't stand a chance alone. you're free to go. i dare you. gale: gods damn you - you're right. few things are more powerful than the will to live.

gale: i thought the orb to be the greatest of my sins, but i see now that there are darker depths to which i might yet sink. you may be content to sink into that abyss, but i assure you - i am not.

gale doesn’t lead a split existence. he has a very strong sense of identity. he knows what he wants, what he doesn’t want and he isn’t shy in expressing his boundaries either. which he has especially shown when it comes to his relationship with tav. i originally had intended to touch upon this in another post entirely but: i firmly believe his entire Gale of Waterdeep™ persona is more of a performance than him struggling to find a sense of identity and trying them on for size. it is an intentional decision to separate gale dekarios from the great wizard of waterdeep, to create distance and make sure his family name remains untarnished in case things should ever go sideways.

gale: i agree. and on the plus side, if i get myself into any truly cataclysmic straits during the remainder of our journey, my family name will go untarnished.

there is also a deep-rooted feeling of unworthiness and his firm belief that love and praise are conditional resources that he will only be granted through his talents alone, naturally. presenting himself as gale dekarios, the man, would mean highlighting his shortcomings and very human flaws, while distracting from the aspects of himself that are deemed praiseworthy, the ones that actually matter: his magical prowess.

i personally believe that part of the beauty of gale’s story is him realizing just how “little” it takes for him to be truly content. he gets his happy ending, with someone at his side who truly sees him, understands him and unabashedly commits to him. they worship and adore him in return — and it is well deserved. he isn’t reduced to be constantly and restlessly searching for some unattainable ideal to fill the gaping void within himself. he doesn’t secretly thirst for more power still or believes that in being with tav he is settling for something. instead, he is finally happy to just be. be and be accepted. teaching a class of unruly wizards and coming home to his spouse each day already fulfills him.

gale: that's how i feel with you - content. it's a rather unfamiliar feeling, i must say. not something gale of waterdeep ever craved.

even if he doesn’t pursue a romance with tav, he reaches a realization of “oh, it appears i am not irredeemably flawed and only able to reach true redemption through my own death. what i needed was actually with me all along.” throughout their journey and through his friend's support. i think that’s a very powerful and comforting message. he is very well capable of finding peace within himself.

devnotes: his default state is that he returned to waterdeep and became a professor of illusory magic at his former school, blackstaff academy. general vibe here is that this is a gale who's found peace with himself - he's a great teacher, one his students are mostly in awe of.

to repeat myself: sharing your headcanons is all in good fun, nor should you ever be discouraged from doing so. this is your personal tumblr experience, after all. but i personally think we should be mindful of unintentionally perpetuating negative stereotypes, such as narcissism being a general indicator or being deemed a classic depiction of bpd. i think we can all agree that the continuous longing for acceptance, connection, praise, and approval is something we all have in common deep down, regardless of whatever disorder we may have. [insert victoria justice meme here]

gale may be many things to many people, but he is no entitled narcissist.

#with love. a person diagnosed with bpd <3 #this turned much longer than i originally intended it to be (aka less of a reply and more of a character study)#by now you know that i am incapable of cutting myself short. i’m so sorry #i debated if i should put this in the tag at first #but i personally think that this is a very interesting discussion #also to reiterate: this is by NO MEANS a slight at the original poster #i just thought it more respectful to make my own post instead of invading theirs with my ranting #fandom is all about fun and escapism.#if you interpret characters in a certain way that i personally disagree with that is a-okay #BUT i’m also gonna have my own specific brand of fun by pointing out why you’re wrong (affectionately)#also i quickly want to add that if you're interested in a very accurate and respectful portrayal of bpd: watch crazy ex-girlfriend!!#its on netflix and genuinely such a funny and unapologetically weird show. the writers have really done their homework #bg3 #baldurs gate 3 #gale dekarios #gale of waterdeep #bg3 meta #character analysis #it speaks #long post #suicide mention

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