#and now it's much more than the mere outline of a headcanon

[nobigsecrets]

Ever since @teruel-a-witch posted her hot McDanno motorcycle boyfriends collage the other day, the idea of a McDanno biker AU wouldn't leave me alone. It didn't help that the post made me reread some parts of The ‘Auna Club series by mrspdrona, but mostly I got inspired by our subsequent conversation about whether Steve and Danny really would become mob-like criminals as members of an MC. I thought of some alternative ideas.

Steve

After Steve dedicated 15 years of his life to the Navy, all he gets as thanks for his service is a dishonorable discharge due to DADT. Add insult to injury, it had been the Petty Officer he's been having a secret affair with for almost a whole year who'd told when he'd been asked. Steve had secretly hoped this thing between them could be going somewhere, eventually, and never has he been more wrong. He's not even sure what hurts worse, the betrayal of the person he thought he knew, or the disrespect of the institution he would have been ready to die for.

So now he’s got literally nothing left: He's got no job and no career, no more friends nor family, no home and no place to go, no plan and nothing to do and he’s so. fucking. ANGRY.

What he does have is a motorcycle. He’s always loved bikes, they're so much more interesting than the stupid vintage cars his dad used to love. It was a guy Steve knew in high school (and who he might've had a major crush on), who let him ride his bike once and it was an instant addiction. (Ironically, the guy became his dad’s cop partner later, so the crush faded quickly but not the love for bikes.)

So when Steve gets out of the Navy, the first thing he does is getting his bike out of storage—and then he just takes off.

He's got nowhere to be and nowhere to go, so he just rides, not paying much attention to where he's going, content with wherever the roads might take him. Which happens to be the southern end of New Jersey—eventually.

He's been out and about for a few months, stopping and making new friends here, picking up a guy there, always leaving after a day or two and before trouble can find him. He's coming up close to a year when he runs into problems with his bike. Turns out years of being in storage weren't great for it. Steve knows his way around the engine just fine, thank you very much, but he doesn't have the means to fix what's wrong this time. A trip to the nearest shop is unavoidable if he doesn't want to strand in the middle of the road in the middle of nowhere with his beloved bike in pieces.

And isn't it just his kind of luck that the closest garage he finds seems to be firmly in the hands of the local chapter of a one-percenter motorcycle club? At least ten of the guys hanging around are clearly recognizable as club members by the patches on their leather cuts. Steve can feel their eyes on him as he approaches though no one is looking at him directly.

He's as wary of them as they seem to be of him, if not more. He's aware they don't like strangers and he's even more aware that these kind of 'clubs' are just as full of bullshit and toxic masculinity as the Navy. Steve has sworn to himself that he wouldn't hide anymore, that anyone who has a problem with who he is can fuck right off. He's fucking done with playing by anyone else's rules. But he needs his bike to be fixed and he doesn't want to cause trouble so he keeps his head down, trying to find the right balance between looking intimidating enough without being provocative.

It works better than he wants it to. Because while he's waiting for someone to look at his bike, some of the guys cautiously strike up a conversation with him, like they're testing the waters, trying to figure out where he stands. They've recognized him as ex-military and they're friendly towards him, probably they've gauged him as potentially useful. They ask him which branch he served in and when he left; when they ask about the why Steve doesn't exactly lie when he tells them he got kicked out for conduct unbecoming, but he doesn't elaborate either.

Turns out he was right: When it becomes clear that the repairs on his bike take at least a day or two, he gets offered help and accommodation by no one less than the club's Vice President. Of course he’s being asked to work a job for the club in exchange—but he's been expecting it and he doesn’t hesitate for long. He doesn't have anything to lose. He’s got the skills, why not use them to his advantage as he pleases when the Navy doesn’t want him as he is?

Steve doesn’t plan on staying. Instead he plans to leave as soon as he's got his bike back and his debt is settled, except—

Except there’s this short blonde dude everyone calls Danno that has caught his attention. It's not solely his good looks that catch Steve’s interest, though. It’s more that he sticks out. He’s not a big number in the club—yet. He’s ambitious and he’s clearly set to move up the ranks soon, but to Steve’s trained eyes he’s trying too hard. Something about him doesn't pan out, but Steve can't put his finger on what it is.

Plus, the guy seems to have taken an interest in Steve, too. He's always around, watching, observing. He's always got a snarky remark and Steve can’t tell if it's a risky game of flirting he's playing or if it’s dislike over a perceived competition or if there’s another, ulterior motive. Either way, he's intrigued enough to stay for another job and he doesn't exactly mind that Danno seems to have become the guy to keep an eye on him.

He soon learns that they work well together, and it makes even more sense when he learns Danno used to be a cop. He's got tactical training under his belt and it shows. He's also been fired from the police, which has something to do with drinking and anger issues and his ex-wife. But whatever the details, the bitter experience is something that connects them. Steve finds there's a lot of connection between them and if the circumstances were any different he's sure there could be a friendship between them or—

But it's neither the right time nor the right place and Steve is a burned child so what the hell is he even thinking?

Danny

Danny is far from the disgraced cop he pretends to be.

What is true is that his ex-wife is the main reason why he's here. What is true is that he needed a reason to pull his head out of the bottle he fell in after she left him. What is true is that his temper is the character trait that got him this job. Well that and his love for motorcycles. And the job is a long-term undercover op to disassemble fucking Jersey Devils Motorcycle Club and their business once and for all.

He's been with the club for close to two years. He came highly recommended (however his boss pulled that off) and he hightailed it through the prospect phase, proving himself worthy of a full patch in record time. Always there, always doing what he's told to do, always loyal. Club comes first. Some days he can barely stand to look at himself in the mirror for the things he did for the club without batting an eyelid. What keeps him going is the good progress he makes in building a case against these assholes. They're going down so hard and very soon, except—

Except this tall, dark and handsome stranger called McGarrett walks into the picture and all over the case he's built, seemingly out of nowhere. It turns out to be the best thing and the worst thing that could possibly happen, both at the same time.

It's the worst thing because it's a major set back in Danny's work when the VP hires McGarrett for a job that's usually handled internally. And it's the best thing because it makes Danny realize the club's management is aware of being watched. That they're outsourcing their dirty work so it can't be stuck to the club. He doesn't think they're on to him yet, but it's a warning to keep his head down.

It leaves him stuck between a rock and a hard place though: If he warns McGarrett about what he's getting into, he'll make the club even more suspicious. Worst case, he puts McGarrett directly in the line of fire. And if he doesn't warn him, he'll become collateral damage in the big picture of the case. Hang together, hanged together. And McGarrett is far too interesting to be hanged. Or go to prison, or whatever.

Point is, the man has caught Danny's attention. Despite his closed-off behavior, despite his ruthlessness, despite the crazy devil-may-care attitude. There's something beneath all these defensive walls that is hurt and vulnerable but good in it's core. Danny would love to find out what the guy is hiding, if only the circumstances were any different.

As it is, he volunteers to 'babysit' McGarrett and it comes with several benefits: First of all, it strengthens his credibility within the club and hopefully scatters any doubts about his integrity. Second, he can keep tabs on which jobs they make McGarrett do for them which is relevant for his case. And thirdly, he gets to spend some time with the man—

And then Danny does learns about one of McGarrett's—Steve's—secrets very soon, up close and personal, when he finds himself pressed against the wall of the club house. It's late and they just returned from an errand and now Steve's hands are on his shoulders, holding him in place and Steve crushes his mouth against Danny's in a rough kiss. There's nothing cautious or questioning about it and Danny's kissing back after only a second of hesitation, giving as good as he gets.

The moment McGarrett pulls back and losens his hold of him, Danny grabs his arms and in a flash has reversed their positions.

"You always just take what you want?" Danny asks breathless. He's got his hands on McGarrett's biceps and uses his whole body to press the man into the wall.

"Now that I can," Steve says, voice hoarse, as he bucks up against Danny's body. Danny can't help but grind back and lean in for another kiss, demanding and urgent. When he comes back up for air a long moment later, he finds his hands have moved to cup McGarrett's face and Steve's hands are on his hips, holding him close.

"This why the Army kicked you out?" Danny pants. "Someone told them you're gay?"

"It was the Navy, but yeah." Steve manages a rueful smile. "What if someone told your guys in there what we're doing here? They kick you out, too?" Steve jerks his head toward the club house.

Danny stares at him for a moment. He's never thought about it and his stomach plummets. These guys aren't exactly the liberal kind—

"Probably," Danny says and maybe now is the time to come clean. "I've got no idea to be honest. Steve, listen to me. These are not my guys. I'm not one of them. I'm—" He realizes he's still holding Steve's face in his hands and lets them drop away. Taking a deep breath and mentally bracing himself he admits in a low voice, "I'm still a cop. I didn't get fired. I'm here to take the club down."

Side by side

A myriad of emotions run through Steve at Danny's admission. It's not so much surprise, he knew there was something about Danny that made him stand out from the rest of the club guys. But the feeling of betrayal is hitting him full force, the feeling of being lied to so fresh in his memory that he can barely breathe—

Luckily, Danny takes a step back before Steve can push him away. He puts some distance between them, his instincts telling him to run. But as he thinks it through, he realizes it's different. Danny lied before, but in the moment Steve made himself vulnerable by kissing him, Danny rewarded him with the truth. Danny trusts him enough to no longer lie to him.

"We shouldn't talk about it here," Steve says, turning back to Danny, "but I want to help you."

—

Over the next couple of days Danny lets Steve in on the case. Again, it shows that they make a great team and together, they formulate a plan to bring the Jersey Devils down.

Danny runs all his evidence, all their ideas and suggestions by his superiors and they approve—enthusiastically. Everything goes back and forth a lot of times until all details are cleared and an operation can finally be set up. It could be an epic victory—

There's one catch: Danny has promised Steve that he'll go free and therefore, he has placed a request with his boss to make Steve's help 'official'. And his boss agreed to the deal—until Steve's background check comes back flagged. "Dishonorable discharge, Danny, you know the rules. My hands are tied," his boss says and Danny is livid. No matter how much Danny argues, how many times he points out that Steve got fired because of fucking DADT, that Steve is not a criminal, that without his help the whole case wouldn't have panned out, he can't change the man's mind. It's the biggest bullshit he's ever heard, and he's lived and breathed the fucking Jersey Devils for two years!

That's why, when everything is over, when all members of the Jersey Devils are behind bars and charged for their crimes, Danny and Steve get on their bikes—and then they just take off into the sunset. Together.

[cutiecusp]

Gaz x Reader x Price Halloween Headcanons.

Tw. Mentions of sharing, voyerism. All consensual between all parties.

Gaz! Who has you pressed against the hotel window, your body outlined by the light behind you, throwing an ethereal glow around you. Your devil horns high on your head as you embrace Gaz.

Price! Who's looking through a pair of binoculars from the hotel across the street.

Gaz! Who kisses along your neck, his hands brushing your hair out of your face while he praises you for being his good girl.

Price! Who demands to see a little more, urges Gaz to shimmy your costume down a little.

Gaz! Who takes his time, has you melting under his touch, pliant in his grasp as the blindfold stays on. Part of the game, he explains. The blindfold stays on.

Price! Who is itching to get over there, and have you fall apart on his fingers, but he trusts Gaz, and he trusts you. (For now, patience isn't his strong point.)

Gaz! Who pulls your dress down, smiling at your whimper in the back of your throat as your pebbled nipples touch cold glass.

Price! Who's hands tighten around the binoculars as he sees your body, bared to him and Gaz, his mouth dry.

Gaz! Who's kneaded you into a whimpering mess, his fingers tracing torturous patterns along your skin, his teeth leaving little reminders for tomorrow along your shoulder. His hands soft, but firm as he removes your red heels and fishnets.

Gaz! Who spreads your legs a little wider before lifting you up against the window, rolling his hips against yours.

Price! With a view of a lifetime, his best friend fulfilling one of his wife's fantasies, John can't think of anyone more suited to fuck his woman.

Price! Who was afraid Gaz wouldn't agree to his plan, but you are very persuasive.

Gaz! Who kneels between your legs, licking a stripe up your folds, before settling on your clit, making you run your fingers through his hair.

Price! Who is harder than a rock when he hears you call out in pleasure, comms crackling slightly as your voice becomes higher.

Gaz! Who is putting on the show of a lifetime, his fingers joining his mouth, as your legs jellify. (He can't hear you, babe. Scream my name louder.)

Gaz! Who pulls orgasm after orgasm from you, your voice hoarse after all your whimpers and moans.

Price! Who has packed away, and on his way to watch in person.

Gaz! Who slides home between your legs just as Price enters the room, his cheeks pink, his trousers tight.

Price! Who kisses you deeply, as Gaz fills your aching pussy, the pleasure from the two of them almost too much, as John reaches for the blindfold.

Gaz! Who takes his time, each thrust just pressing against your g spot. Your voice a mere whisper as you arch your back, your soul shattering through another orgasm, your hands reaching our for purchase.

Gaz! Pulling out to finish all over your stomach before sweeping a kiss over your lips, before removing the blindfold.

Price! Chuckling as he looks you in the eye. (Round two, love?)

🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

@kaeyasfuturewife @xoxunhinged @muneca-lemon-steppa @gardenof-venus @misshugs @soraya-daydreams @frudoo @renpodz @yesornowaitidontknow @thevoiceinyourheadx @shadowdark00 @rynbeerose @lunamoonbby @incredible-walker @identity2212 @pukbadger @urbimom @corvid007 @wordsfromshona @shadows-empress @m00xy @canyonmooncreations @oniraki @evie-119 @havoc973 @kylies-love-letter @ishipdabands @cmbghost @heckinspooks @midwesternwitchery @eggy-yoke @redzluvvesage @masterclassofescapism @s-a-v-a-n-a-34

[se-agapo-skywalker]

metal hand dilf shenanigans? I’m listening

:3c welcome and thanks for enabling me

Smutty headcanons below the cut:

In order for this to happen, obviously you'd have to be in a relationship--situationship?--with Luke first, or else he wouldn't do it. At all. Even if you had a one-time fling in his hut, the moment you reach out for his cybernetic, he'll quickly pull it away from you (if he doesn't still have his glove on already). That's private--he isn't ready for that level of intimacy, not yet.

You've seen Luke's cybernetic before plenty of times, but he's never touched you with it before. Holding hands is... not his style, unless you've somehow grown close to him. He'd have to warm up to you slowly: reluctantly, he'll let you touch his cybernetic with your own hand, intertwining your fingers with his metal ones. It's nice, nicer than he expected. Even though he can't quite feel the warmth of your flesh, he can still feel the emotional warmth--and, soon enough, he's ready for more.

The next time you venture into Luke's hut at night, you sense a strange anticipation in the Force. Perhaps he's meaning to approach you about something, as he's acting strangely shier than normal. He's always reserved, only speaking as much as he needs to as you're both undressing, but he seems... unsure. When you ask him what's troubling him, he merely responds by asking you--well, telling you--to lay down on the bed and spread your legs. He wants to try something.

You do as Luke asks without hesitation. This wouldn't be the first time you've done so; he always has a way of being so mysterious with you, and you tend to obey without question, knowing he only ever wishes to please you. You trust that's what he desires now.

Luke eyes your wetness and nods affirmatively. Slowly, he traces both his hands up the insides of your thighs, teasing your sensitive flesh with his fingertips as he inches closer and closer to your core. Interestingly, his metal hand is still gloved, touching you with the soft, cool leather. He doesn't speak at all; what he can't say with words, he says with his actions, but you can't quite decipher what he means to say now.

The thumb pad of his flesh hand moves to rub tight circles on your clit, setting a pace that already has you throwing your head back in pleasure. "M-Master..." you sigh, letting out a breathy moan.

A brief flash of a grin crosses Luke's face. What follows said grin is the cool touch of the leather glove covering his cybernetic, lightly tracing the outline of your labia.

"Is this... alright?" he asks, voice low and gravely. You nod, biting your lip as his index finger teases your entrance, and he finally presses inside. The fullness is different from his flesh hand, and the texture of the leather is quite the interesting sensation. You wriggle around beneath him to get a feel of how you want him to be inside you. Thankfully, you're wet enough for him to slip in rather easily, squelching softly as he moves further and deeper.

Luke raises an eyebrow at you and you nod, silently urging him to start moving. He withdraws his finger, and you suppress a whine, only for him to add one more as he begins thrusting in and out. Left hand still working at your clit, both hands move in harmony as they ravish you with electric pleasure--you hadn't previously known of his ambidexterity, but kriff, if you aren't enjoying it.

Long and thick fingers curl within you, hitting that special spot that has you gripping the sheets and cursing to the wind. The speed of his cybernetic is unmatched; his flesh hand has its perks, but what he's able to accomplish with the metal hand is unheard of.

You clench around Luke, fingers still snugly wedged within you, treating them like you would treat his cock. He's unable to actually feel the sensation with this hand, but sensing the resistance, he presses on, this time adding another finger. It's too much--the stretch, coupled with the sensation of him playing with your clit--that it's almost unbearable. He's fully fucking you with his hand, the force of his thrusts making your body shake and your tits bounce (a sight he certainly enjoys seeing, even if he doesn't outwardly express that).

Luke's face remains unchanging as you write beneath him, coming apart with a cry more akin to a scream--you're sure the caretaker village knows exactly what you're doing, or at least the porgs do. He doesn't care in the slightest.

Once your contractions have finished, Luke pulls out his fingers, now soaked with your arousal, and brings them to your panting lips.

"Clean it."

[windblooms]

liyue boys – how they kiss their s/o

liyue boys × gender-neutral!reader; 1.4k words. sfw headcanons of how baizhu, childe, chongyun, xiao, xingqiu, and zhongli kiss their s/o. 

- ̗̀ baizhu  ̖́-

while baizhu’s reputation as the swindler from bubu pharmacy precedes him, even in normal day-to-day matters, he makes an effort to convey his sincerity to you when the moment is opportune.  typically, this is at the conclusion of the day, when the pharmacy takes its time to rest and the buzz of the moon overtakes liyue.

his touch on your wrist is loose, as if he intends to just feel your presence instead of seize it, to observe but not meddle; just as he does with changsheng, he finds great comfort in keeping you tethered to him through this contact.  

when baizhu romances you, it’s in the privacy of your office, or the stocking room – anywhere besides the service area, so you’re the only one who witnesses his dropped mask. 

his lips glide to your temple, serpentine and brisk, peppering short kisses down to your jaw.  his ministrations are rather sensual for a man so weak in composition, especially considering that he’s rather ruthless with his business dealings and doesn’t even spare a fraction of a discount for the desperate – but this gentler display is nonetheless welcome.

“and how can i help you tonight?  no, this isn’t bartering.  i mean this genuinely, for the one who can tolerate my short-comings as forgivingly as you do.  a new box of qingxin arrived this afternoon, and perhaps you’d like a look at it . . . ”

- ̗̀ childe / tartaglia  ̖́-

childe is excellent at the chase, and each time, his catch is you.  perhaps it’s his constant need for stimulus (he’s never been one for idleness) and the subsequent calling in his blood for a thrill.  his penchant for battle has made him flexible to most tricky scenarios, and thus he’s adept to what makes things tick – 

– including people.  and, of course, you. 

his greetings are customarily followed by doting kisses.  they’re gentle on your skin, like the drifting of snowflakes from the sky, yet there’s a bite to them as well, as if he’s nipping at you even without his teeth.  they’re innocently teasing at best, but at worst, grabbing all of your senses with their bold allure. 

“haha, got your attention now, have i?  no need to make that face!  ah, i promise.  be a bit more patient for me, and i’ll give you what you want.”

he prefers to give the kisses that he knows will consume you whole, cushion you in warmth like beach sand in the summer, but just as swiftly drag you undertow – namely, at the corners of your mouth, the height of your cheekbones, the pulses on your neck, and the rise of your collarbones. 

whether he leaves you with flushed cheeks and a stuttering voice, or absolutely breathless, you stir him all the same.

- ̗̀ chongyun  ̖́-

he’s a very straightforward individual, naively so sometimes – inherently wholesome, and that translates over to his relationship with you.  admittedly, he doesn’t display bold affections towards you all that much because he’s, well, shy.  he’d never thought of romantics before he became involved with you, and even then, all he’s heard about couples and love birds are from xingqiu – not the most trustworthy source.

“ah – i do not . . . i don’t have the words to describe . . . i apologize, but i really don’t know how to explain this light feeling in my chest.  but you seem to be happy!  and that’s really what matters to me.”

chongyun pecks you gently, as if he’s dealing with the finest of jade fragments.  very innocently, as well: just as a bird finds satisfaction in a well-kept nest, so does the young exorcist in the pleased reactions he draws from you.  

the two of you have yet to share a kiss on the lips.  and, honestly, it isn’t something characteristic of chongyun to want to engage with.  he has an ample reserve of boyish youth in him, and even at the thought of partaking in such an intimate act (xingqiu teases him to no end for this, but nonetheless chongyun’s perspective is understood) makes him red in the face. 

instead, he settles for your fingers, the back of your hand, and your cheeks.  light in sentiment, like the mild ice-cream he indulges in.

- ̗̀ xiao  ̖́-

if you’re fire, then xiao is afraid that he’s the water that will extinguish your light.  he’s harmed so many others, even when he never intended to, and doesn’t even want to think about you ending up the same way.  so he abstains, for the longest time, until you reassure him that he’s okay, that he’s suffered enough, and that he needs to live, too. 

xiao kisses you like both of you will break.  his lips barely even touch you, as if his presence is only part of your imagination, a fleeting zephyr in the liyue evening; he even hesitates to use his hands at first because only archons know how he’s razed the land with them.  they hover over your hips, and in moments of indulgence, he imagines how it would feel to hold you, unchained from his past.

“you make it easier for me to tolerate the days.  don’t look so concerned – there’s no need for you to worry about me.  you’re the one in the more precarious situation.  but i guess that’s one more thing that’s admirable about you . . . too trusting for your own good.”

in his mind, he cradles your hands, so much softer than his own, with no reason to raise a weapon.  he wishes to keep you that way, safeguarded from the cruelness of the world, and his lips cherish your knuckles, the backs of your hands, and all the way to your wrists.

- ̗̀ xingqiu  ̖́-

“what a thrilling smile on your face!  definitely one for the books.  yes – i’ve decided that you’ll be the inspiration for this next scene i write.  ah, actually, i need to outline it first . . . you won’t mind, right?  perfect, this is just the circumstance i’ve been looking for.”

like fresh flowers in a spring meadow, he’s as exuberant as he is vibrant with life.  he’ll come to you in the mornings, bid you a good day and plant a light peck on the corner of your mouth, delighted at the sight of you.  or, just when he’s stopping by your place, he’ll also make sure to commemorate your meeting with another smooch.  

xingqiu is, admittedly, easy to please when in a relationship, merely because he’s with who he wants the most: you, and his writing, all that he needs.  while he may joke about intertwining you into his writing, he truly does intend to cherish you. 

he enjoys toying with the sleeves of your top when he’s near, just because he can.  bonus points if you let him tug you along, and he’ll even make a show out of giving a playful kiss on the tip of your nose.  they make you feel all fluttery in your stomach, because it’s only something that he would even think about doing – keeping you light on your toes, just like his flexible poise.

- ̗̀ zhongli  ̖́-

his affections are just as proper as his composure.  zhongli’s actions are soft, reverent, and appreciative of your presence.  never once do you doubt his devotion to you when his hand grazes your arm, a finger catching around your wrist, or when he steadies you with his palm on your shoulder.  it might be subconscious on his behalf, but his gentle measures soothe you immensely.

unsurprisingly, his kisses are chaste, with only fondness and warmth behind them.  he adores you like the sun does an open field, bracing your body to his with the slightest of suggestions from his hands on your waist.  zhongli is exceedingly pleased when you reciprocate his physicality, especially when you wrap your arms around his neck in return – the gleam in his eyes betray just as much.

his lips find themselves tenderly on your own, and your forehead and cheeks.  when in more intimate environments, namely either of your rooms, he’ll worship the pulse on your neck, however not in an erotic fashion.  he only ventures there to treasure the flow of life in your body, to revere the rhythm of you.

“times have come and gone.  consider me obstinate in my beliefs, but the one of the things that have remained apparent to me over millennia are contracts.  contracts of business, of relationships, of morals – everything.  promises, if you prefer to call them.  so i promise you this: there is not a day that will go by when i will not devote myself to you, wholly, and completely.”

[masterjedilenawrites]

i read your bad batch post with them being ticklish and i cannot help but be drawn to crosshair's lack of tickle spots! you said he had ONE spot so i dunno if you wanna write hcs or a drabble but, how about his s/o finding out his ears are quite a bit ticklish to their surprise! and that his laugh actually is pretty sweet sounding 🥰 i want his s/o to bully him with some tickling once they find out! would be really adorable

Oooh, I think that's a good spot for Crosshair to be secretly ticklish! Let's see what we can do with that...

Crosshair x reader | 1k words

Based on this headcanon.

Your touch was soft and light, but purposeful.

It was barely distracting to the sniper at first, as he leaned up against his stack of pillows, eyes trained on the screen ahead as his fingers deftly fiddled with a gaming controller in his lap. You often snuggled up to Crosshair on nights like this, though you usually had your own console or book or something to keep yourself occupied. You weren't in the mood for that tonight, choosing instead to give your sullen boyfriend some innocent affection. So eventually, he couldn't help but be distracted by you this time.

Your fingers traced over each and every line on his face, even making up paths where there were none. The outline of his lips, the creases by his eyes, the contour of his cheeks and the edge of his jaw. It was like you were mapping out a new world, and yet, also indulging in the comfort of something you knew so well.

Your eyes followed along your journey, and soon, you realized his eyes were following yours in return.

"What are you doing?" he grunted, his tone annoyed but undoubtedly curious.

You only smiled, continuing your reverent caresses but now allowing the affection behind them to show on your face, now that you knew he was paying attention. He rolled his eyes and resumed his game. But more notably, he didn't tell you to stop. And every once in a while, you'd catch the flick of his eyes back to yours, pulling out another smile from your lips.

When he'd finished the level and was waiting for the next screen to load, he set down the controller and turned to you fully, asking his question again.

"What are you doing?"

"Don't worry," you answered this time, low and breathy. "Just relax."

You could feel his cheek move as his lips tightened. A crease formed between his eyes, and you swiftly dragged your fingers up toward it, tracing along these new lines. You leaned forward to plant a kiss, ever so softly, right behind where your fingers had been.

That seemed to do the trick. His muscles relaxed and his eyes fluttered closed and you continued to trail your fingers along, back and forth, following along with little kisses, here and there. Whatever game he had going was now forgotten as he allowed himself to indulge in your unusual but pleasant care. He might have even been lulled into sleep by it, something you knew he desperately needed more of these days... if only your fingers hadn't wandered behind his ears.

His body immediately stiffened beside yours, his face scrunched up as if in pain, and yet, rather than any grunts or curses, the sound that came out of him betrayed an entirely different emotion.

You'd only ever heard him laugh once before, or at least something resembling a laugh. The quiet but distinctly amused sound had made your heart flutter in such a nice way. You'd been eager to replicate the experience again, but hadn't had much luck. Until now. You paused your movements and Crosshair's eyes opened wide, just as surprised. There was a moment, brief but tense, where you merely looked at each other. You knew you had to be careful about this. You weren't going to screw up this wonderful opportunity to make your man laugh again.

"Sorry," you decided to mutter, feigning innocence. "Didn't mean to hurt you."

His eyes narrowed. "You... didn't."

You gulped to keep down your own laughter. "Well, I should still kiss it, make it feel better."

He didn't stop you as you leaned in, though he was still wary. But rather than place your lips on his ear, you instead blew a steady, gentle breath over the spot. Just enough to tickle. The reaction was immediate and satisfactory.

"Stop," he gasped, amidst the softest, sweetest giggles you'd ever heard. Now you let yourself grin, showing just how much fun you were having over this discovery.

His body was wiggling in protest so you quickly slung yourself on top of him. The gaming controller tumbled off the side of the bed but that was the least of anyone's concerns right now. You pinned his arms down before he could push you away and you looked down at him with mischevious, twinkling eyes.

"Aw, baby, I thought you weren't ticklish?" you laughed as you let go of his wrists and ran your fingertips along the back of his ears, sending him into another fit of giggles.

"I'm not," he managed to get out between laughs, body still writhing beneath you in discomfort.

He grasped your hands firmly and pulled them away, but you knew better than to let him try and take control of the situation. Before he could do anything else, you surged forward and pressed your lips against his own, eating up the last of his laughter and, hopefully, distracting him from any annoyance he may have had with you. When you parted for air, you rubbed your nose against his a little, a move you knew made him melt every time.

"You little..." he started, but couldn't seem to finish. How could he be upset with you like this? He sighed and brought a hand up to tuck away some of your hair that had fallen forward, incredulously shaking his head at you the whole time.

"What?" you asked, slipping back into your pretend innocence.

"You're going to pay for that," he said, though there was no malice in his tone. If anything, he was the one sounding mischevious now.

"Oh, am I?"

Your fingers were interlocked with his, unable to break free and sneak any more tickles. But you knew where his secret spot was now. It was only a matter of time before you'd catch him off guard again and be treated to those sweet, sweet sounds once more.

But speaking of being caught off guard, within a second you then found your body flipped over and pinned beneath his own, that mischievousness you'd heard from him now on full display across the features you'd been so fondly tracing just a short while ago.

"Are you going to tickle me now?" you asked. It was no secret how many places on your anatomy would send you into hysterics from just a little tickle.

"Oh no," he husked, instantly causing a flush to spread across your face. You knew what his smirk and that glint in his eye really meant now. "I think I'll tease you another way...."

[imo-chan-imagines]

『 As your boyfriend | BNHA Headcanons 』

From the good, to the bad, to the downright adorable.

Characters: female!reader, Aizawa Shouta

Tags/warnings: Boku No Hero Academia (anime), 18+, explicit descriptions of sex, smut, fluff, soft dom Aizawa, relationship, headcanons

⚠️ 18+ CONTENT! MINORS: PLEASE DO NOT INTERACT ⚠️

A/N: Right, so I'm simping for this man biG TIME, but I'm only on season 3, so no spoilers or anything, please. This is my first BNHA post (and it turned out way longer than I was intending 😅) Please let me know if you want more in the future!

Also, I have a repetitive strain injury, so typing stuff is taking a while at the moment. Sorry about that. Thanks for reading! Please enjoy ♡ ~Imo

☆ Aizawa Shouta ☆

I'm not going to lie. Shouta can be a big ol' grouchy pants sometimes, and it's basically impossible to win an argument against him makes you want to tear your hair out, sometimes

But most of the time, he's just tired and in pain, and he doesn't mean to be so crotchety

He's not the type to make excuses, though. That's childish. He means his apologies, even if they're simple

He'll normally initiate an apology by gently wrapping his arms around you from behind and resting his forehead on your shoulder 🥺

Physical contact is incredibly personal and intimate for him. He doesn't just touch anyone, or allow them to touch him

You're special 💞💫

Soft, gentle touches, like his fingers interlacing with yours, or his leg brushing up against you, are basically his way of saying 'I love you'

Catch me crying in the corner, a'ight? 😔

He rarely ever raises his voice. Like, ever he doesn't need to, and is aware that it can be scary

He's definitely the kind of guy to forget to tell people that you're dating, simply because he doesn't see how it's relevant or anyone else's business 🤦‍♀️

I mean, he ain't wrong, but–

And his mood switches between 'antisocial' and 'clingy' like a mechanical metronome did someone say 'cat'?

Sometimes, you'll be lucky if he speaks more than three words to you together in a whole day nothing personal 🤷‍♀️

But on other days, he literally won't let you out of his arms for the world he's complicated, okay?

You have missed many a parcel delivery because he wouldn't let you get up from his lap to answer the door 🙄😂

Boundaries and responsibilities are key and highly respected by Shouta, and he would NEVER erase your quirk without your permission, unless he literally had no other choice like someone's going to get hurt, or something

Is generally quite serious so what's new? but you're one of the few people he can relax around when he feels like it

9/10 of his jokes are dad jokes 😎 hell yeah

Takes a hard stance in financial debates, but is constantly broke af 😶 says he'll buy you dinner and presents you with some instant noodles with a 'Reduced To Clear' sticker on them

Will take a bite of your food/steal some off your plate without asking, and literally say nothing to defend himself #gremlin

Is incredibly shy and uncomfortable about being ~le horny~ until you've been together for literally forever

Even then, he's still shy about it when he has to bring it up and it's pretty cute, let me tell ya

It took him forever to admit to you that he gets turned on when you eat ice lollies

Guess what you do whenever you want to mess with him like a little brat 😛

But if he's in the mood, he will 100% whisper something dirty in your ear, even if you're completely alone and probably well past third base

He does it because he knows your pussy will clamp around him at the sound of his voice 😳🥵

*fans self profusely*

Genuine, unadulterated smiles are rare with Aizawa, but when he does 🙌 Heaven hath opened its gates and allowed an angel walk amongst mere mortals 🥺🤧

If he lays his head on your chest, he will fall asleep like that *snaps fingers*

Surprise nose and forehead kisses to show he loves you ❤

Calls you 'Kitten' this is basically already canon at this point

And he's all about those deep talks with you at 3 am when he can't sleep

Speaking of insomnia!

It's cheesy, but you're like a soothing balm. The warmth of your body makes him feel safe, your touch helps him relax, and your voice soothes him to sleep

He's never slept as well as when you're beside him 😭🤧

When cuddling, he likes to be the big spoon but will accept being the little spoon if you if you press your boobs against his back and ask really nicely 🤭

And he loves you stroking his hair and running your fingers through it 🥺

Netlix nights and pillow/blanket forts!!

Rainy days are a godsend. Staying inside all day under the blankets, with the soft sound of the rain falling outside and no-one to interrupt you – literal paradise

He makes mean hot cocoas and Irish coffees 😋 I feel like this man lives off Irish coffees 😂🤣

Wears a lot of black and grey sweatpants at home 😗 which highlight the outline of his dick just right, if ya know what I'm sayin' 👀

Doesn't like going out for dates and prefers staying inside and doing stuff together same, honeyy

But if you really like going out, he will somewhat begrudgingly agree to it and get all dressed up for you, just so long as he gets his fair share of home-dates, too 🤗

But if you also don't like going out... the two of you will basically never leave the house, except to get groceries in your pyjamas from the 24-hour convenience store down the road at one in the morning oddly specific, I know, but you get me

And sorry, but I don't make the rules

Well, actually, I do. But shush

We all know that Shouta cleans up *chef's kiss* So when you go somewhere ~fancy~ he always looks so damn fine 😩

But he has very little idea that he's hot he sees himself as a tired, walking dumpster fire🚶‍♂️🔥

Shouta will 100% turn into a crazy cat dude with 15+ cats if you don't stop him I never said you should, though 🙃

And is a 'minimalist texter' – basically, if he can't answer a text with 'yes', 'no,' 'maybe', or 'OK', then he probably won't answer it at all 😭😂

Especially if you try and sext him or send him your nudes while he's at work. He'll probably lecture you when he gets home and depending on just how much you turned him on, he might proceed to teach you a lesson...

But wear his shirt, and just his shirt or his hoodie and he's yours

Heart eyes, motherfucker 😍

And, depending on how you two are feeling that day, you may or may not end up getting dicked down on the nearest semi-flat surface right then and there 👀

But don't misunderstand. This is an incredibly tired man you have here, and his libido actually isn't through the roof sorry, ladies so this kind of thing isn't an everyday occurrence

But when he dicks you down, he dicks you down goooood

Shouta's not big on PDA, but makes up for it in private. We're talking hands and kisses all over your body he leaves nothing unloved 😏

And while he's not big on PDA, he is big on sneaky displays of affection or 'SDA', as I like to call it

Like subtly grabbing your butt for a second, or his hand on your thigh under the table at a dinner etc. especially around other people

But what really gets him going is slowly removing your clothes and taking you fully naked, spreading your legs wide and holding them open he likes the view 😍

He lowkey highkey worships your body 🙏 and will literally not shut up about how fucking pretty you are, and how fucking good it feels inside you his words, not mine 😳

Groans and growls a little when he's getting close/cumming especially when he's being a little rough and likes to cum together, but knows it's not always practical

He tends to be a gentle dom, but can get just a teensy bit 🤏 rough if he's too into it – but nothing outrageous

We're talking rough thrusts and a brutal pace, maybe holding onto you a little too hard and, waaahh, he gets so embarrassed if he leaves bruises

Is also into a little bondage, but again, only light stuff – restraining your wrists with his hands or his tie or his Capturing Weapon 👀 maybe blinding-folding you if you're okay with it

If you're not blindfolded, then I'm afraid he's all about that eye contact

Eating out your pussy? Eye contact. Pounding you into the mattress? Blazing eye contact. Rearranging your guts in front of the mirror? Fucking eye contact

And CONSENT, BABY. THAT'S WHAT HE'S FUCKING INTO 😌🙌💞

But all jokes aside – he's too used to taking without consent with his quirk, that he's kind of paranoid about it comes to sex but it's adorable and sweet, and honestly, still kind of hot

And speaking of eating pussy – goddamn does he like to please you. Like cream to a kitty 😛

Oh, and he just loves it when you suck on his fingers as he's pounding into you 🤤

And he likes to leave love bites in personal, inconspicuous places and sometimes on your neck

He's marking his woman 😌

When he gets suuuper horny, he likes to fuck you from behind, standing upright in front of the mirror. It's a specific kink he has of watching himself stretch you out as the length of his cock disappears inside you...

I can get behind that, lemme tell yaaa

I said he tends to be dominant, but female doms – fear not!

Shouta is quite flexible when it comes down to it and is kind of lazy, lmfao so he definitely has time for laying back, having the control taken away, and having his dick ridden

For him, it's really all about communication and what you're both comfortable with

I will say this, though: sometimes, his cat watches you while you're banging 😅😂

The first time it happened, you freaked out and refused to continue because – how could you??? But eventually, you just kind of got used to it 🤷‍♀️

The same way you've got used to it following you to the bathroom every time you go to take a shit 😭

So now, you just kind of laugh about it, which helps keep things a little lighter 🤗

After sex, he does like to snuggle, but you'll be lucky if he stays awake for more than 30 seconds it's one of the few times he actually can sleep well

If you're ever out and about, or even inside, and cold, he'll wrap you up in his clothes/scarf/blanket like a sushi roll like Eren wrapping up Mikasa in his scarf, all deadpan and everything 😐

It's not that often, but when he gets drunk, he gets all soft and emotional, and starts babbling about how he can't believe he got so lucky to be dating you, and that he's sure he hasn't done anything to deserve it mah heart

He's pretty sure he wants kids, but he doesn't feel like now is the right time, and is lowkey afraid that it's never going to feel like the right time

He also constantly doubts himself, wondering if he'd actually able to look after them and protect them the way a father should class 1-A got him second-guessing himself 🥺

Besides, it's not all about him. You clearly have a say in it too, and he doesn't want to force you into anything

Again: communication and comfort zones

Dating Aizawa definitely has its ups and downs, and it's not smooth sailing, but he's prepared to work for a life with you because he's found a connection with you that he hasn't feel with anyone else

He knows that you're both far from perfect, but hopes that, for once, you might just make something good, and make it last 🥰😇

© imo-chan-imagines 2020

[thunderheadfred]

🤚The Second Worst (Pt. 1/?)🤚

Part 2 of my Shigaraki Thesis Headcanons. HC's // The Second Worst: 1 - 2

The half-mad ghost of Shimura Tenko is in love with you, and your life is about to become a tragic wreck. -- AKA here's when I gave up on bullet points and went off the fuckin rails

I'm self-conscious about writing so much, so uhhhh, please be kind, hahaaa. This is rather long and involved. Are these still even HCs or just a self-indulgent AU outline? There are some mysteries we may never solve.

This is on AO3 now, if you prefer reading there. Anyway. Minors do not interact.

- - - - -

You met Tenko before the League existed.

Believe it or not, there are a million ways it might have happened, but in the end: you were both bargain-binning in Akihabara.

You reached for a copy of a collectible bullet-hell cute-'em-up (near-mint! CIB!!!) and accidentally bonked hands with a complete stranger. He flinched about five million feet away from you. Ouch. You're just a nobody, quirkless and average, but you didn't think you were THAT repulsive.

(You're not. Hell, even if you were, this guy couldn't care less. He barely registers that you have a face.)

(Shigaraki is accustomed to getting in and out of this shop in seconds. He always comes in before anyone else and goes straight home. -- Is that really home? Is 'home' a real place? -- ANYWAY he's already pirated this shit, god, why does he even care? He doesn't need to be here. Father doesn't like it. Is that why he's here? Just to do something Father doesn't like? That's pathetic.)

He's had at least ten complete internal arguments with himself before he so much as looks at you.

You know in the tenth of a second he actually meets your eyes... this fucker is going to fight you to the death over this game.

- - - The death match ends in a draw. He was not expecting you to know the first fucking thing about this game. Nobody knows about it, even in Japan. Who the fuck do you even think you are? Oh, no, he's still taking it. But... maybe he can show you how to play it it. He'll give you a little taste, just to make you jealous. He's got his hoodie pulled down like he's going to commit an act of terrorism. What little you can see of his face looks twitchy and messed up. If you have any survival instincts at all, they're kicking in right about now. But... why not. You're not going anywhere with this dude unsupervised, so you suggest a crowded web cafe down the street. The cafe has the necessary console... but the retro gaming booth is laughably small. The TV is about four inches across and you end up having to practically sit in his lap. You were sure this guy was a nasty fucking creep, but he's................ only mostly terrible. Way too angry, for sure. Has no idea how to have a normal, friendly conversation. Inadvertently insults you every other sentence and seems to have a deep-seated persecution complex.

You'd prefer to be mad about the awful company, but... he's obviously deprived of human contact. When it's established that you two share a lot of media fixations, he calms down and starts treating you a little more like a human being. Or at least like a fellow elite.

Wherever he came from, he doesn't seem to want to go back. He keeps pushing you to play one more level, pretending he wants to beat your score. You feel kinda bad for him. You get the distinct feeling that his life is a disaster. He looks like he's never had a full night of sleep in his life. He trips your trigger hairs in that 'is he gonna follow me home?' kind of way, but... up close, he's a lot more depressing than scary. At the very least, you want to buy him a stupidly cute dessert. Just... as thanks. For letting you try out the game and stuff. It's not a big deal, so just pick a flavor, okay? The world isn't actually that awful, y'know.

It's not even that impressive... Definitely not a great cafe. But he takes practically a full hour to eat a single slice of strawberry cake.

When the hoodie comes down. He's all shriveled and dried out, like someone left him him in the desert to die. He chews on his peeling bottom lip and nervously scratches his neck. He doesn't thank you for the cake. Which is fine. It's not a big deal. Actually, you wish he would eat faster; you feel weirdly responsible for him now.

Under all that mess he's... gorgeous? His hair is stunning: a bright, gleaming silver that catches the light. His bone structure is flawless. If it weren't for all the scars and the misanthropic slouch, he'd look like a fairy fucking prince.

You were not prepared for that. In another life he could have been a model, the type of guy who would never even look at you. But something bad happened to him. Something... very bad. Do you even want to know? You have no idea how to ask. Has anyone ever been nice to him? It doesn't seem like it. Should YOU be nice to him? You sort of want to try. - - - This becomes a regular thing. This weird little secret. You should probably tell someone when you see him, just in case you don't come back one day, but you say nothing; how the hell would you explain why you want to see him so bad? You don't know his full name. Maybe he's on a watch list. When he gives you a long string of random numbers so you can schedule meet-ups (is THAT his e-mail, really?) he tells you to just... call him Tenko. Or whatever. It doesn't matter. (He sneaks out when Father is deep in his plots. As long as he comes home on time, it doesn't really matter where he goes, right?) He brings a different game every time. He has an insane collection. Where does he get the money for all this? You know he doesn't work. God, is it drugs? It's probably drugs. Wherever these hidden gems came from, he proudly shows them off to you, like he's never had an audience before. It's sort of cringe-inducing, the way he one-ups and rubs every little victory in your face, desperate for attention.

But at the same time, you are becoming too... something...to mind. Do you... like him? He's not funny, but he thinks you are. His mouth is huge when he laughs. He seems to hate everyone but you, and you've had to earn the distinction of being merely tolerable. Still, he gets really excited about random shit like the garage kit black market and haunted dolls and the price of weed on the dark web.

And... strawberry cake. The realization hits you both at the same time when the waitress brings one piece with two forks. God, what the fuck, are you... are you dating? Quick, think. You look forward to seeing him, and don't even mind sitting close to him anymore. Sometimes you push your leg up against him just to see if he'll still flinch away... and he doesn't.

You jealously notice the way he touches everything but you: with delicate precision, one finger at a time. His large, elegant hands always have a pinky up like he's aspiring for a fiefdom, and you wonder what his skin feels like. You go home and dwell on the way he plucks flowering weeds out of the pavement in front of the cafe. The way he stands rooted to the spot as you leave, just... looking at nothing, unsmiling.

You watch his lips too much, and not just because you want to buy him chapstick. You catch him gaping at you all the time. You thought he was just creepy like that, but maybe... Yeah. I guess you are dating him. Shit. - - - Okay, so, yeah. Bringing him back to your place was definitely a bad idea. You know you shouldn't trust him, even if he is... apparently... your boyfriend? Sort of? You still don't have his phone number. So. Um. What now? You order overpriced pizza and queue up a campy horror movie. What the fuck are you even doing. You don't really think he's going to murder you anymore, but... still. Is the suburban massacre scene gonna give him ideas? Turns out, no. He doesn't like gore, even when the blood is neon pink. He gets upset. Like, really upset. Shaky and green, like he might puke on you. He can't stop scratching that scaly spot on his neck.

Tenko, are you crying? Fucking hell, did you just trigger him? Of course he has a traumatic past, it's carved all over his face. You're so fucking stupid. You don't know how to make it right. You want to hug him, kiss him... anything. But he's never really touched you, and you're too afraid to push now. It ruins the whole night. He leaves without explaining anything. Doesn't even say goodbye. He just. Leaves. Maybe you'll never see him again. Maybe that's for the best. Your chest hurts. - - - He shows up at your door a few weeks later. You haven't heard from him since that disastrous movie night. You had pretty much accepted that you'd broken up with a boyfriend you never actually had. But no. Apparently not.

This time, he’s brought his own entertainment. He's holding a boxed set of some show you're not familiar with. You're distracted by these weird little half-gloves he's wearing, like a cyberpunk hacker. That's a new look, and even if it's a bit edgelord adjacent, he makes it look cool. You tell him as much. It's the first time you've let on how attractive you find him. He's wearing a tight black shirt with a deep, deep V-neck. That's distracting too.

He clears his slender throat and doesn't look at you.

You try to apologize for before, but he's acting like it never happened. What are you even talking about? Have you seen this OVA or not? Get out of the way and let him in already. You've watched three episodes now, but you still have no idea what this stupid anime is about. You can't pay attention to a single frame. All you can think about is how his arm has crept up behind your shoulders. A few inches more and he'll be holding you. Does he... want to hold you? You lean toward him so slowly your spine creaks. One molecule at a time. After a thousand years, your head slides nervously under his chin. His arm comes down, locking you in, fingers clutching your sleeve in a death grip. Even that snobby little pinky. His head tucks down into you hair. A sharp collarbone bites into your cheek. His heartbeat is hard, fast, and irregular. There's not a scrap of fat on him, and as you wrap your arm around his stomach, you think you see a twitch in his pants. Is that just you being desperate? Or... hopeful? This is really happening. --- Soon, you learn that Tenko is a clumsy kisser. It doesn't matter; the fact that he's kissing you at all is good enough for now. His lips are dry, but not half as dry as you expected. There's a slick of menthol helping things along; he's been using something medicated on his lips. Plus, his mouth tastes like he drank a gallon of mouthwash.

All this thrills you more than a little, because it means he came here wanting to impress you. Wanting you. Full stop. Underneath that minty sting is a strange, worrisome aftertaste, like something rotten. Your brain fires off an alarm. Stop kissing him. Right now. This thing will make you sick. But his hands nervously slide over your body... and you decide not to worry about it. Instead, you kiss him deeper. He makes a sweet, startled little noise. Your brain is a fucking liar. It occurs to you he's probably never done this before.

When you lace your fingers in his and try to pull one of his gloves off, he rips his hand away.

Don't. That’s the only explanation he gives.

No need to ask if it's a quirk thing or a trauma thing. Judging by how jittery he gets, it's probably both. You remember the way his hands almost float over objects without ever holding them. Maybe his touch is dangerous. Maybe that's why his face looks like that.

Maybe you should learn more about him before things go way too far...

No. It can't be that bad. Now that he's in your arms, everything frightening about him evaporates. He's vulnerable. He's alone. He's shaking a little. Has anyone else ever seen this side of him? You want to keep him all to yourself, just like this.

So what if he has to touch you with gloves on? You've heard of worse quirk-related inconveniences.

It's okay, Tenko. Do you want to keep going?

You put his hands back on you and wait for him to kiss you again. It doesn't take long.

---

You open his pants. He's long and thin, calloused even here. Every part of him feels untouched, unloved. You hold him tight and squeeze.

It doesn't seem to occur to him to please you in return. He looks afraid. Confused. You're sure you scared him earlier with the glove thing. Is this too much? No. He gasps and leans into you. The tiniest, broken please.

He cums in your hand right away, face buried in your shoulder, his eyes wet and hidden.

I have to go, he says. Over and over and over.

It's okay, Tenko.

You know he doesn't want to.

- - - - - (oops I wrote more)

[purple-stuck]

Hi It's me again! I hope my excessive rambling in the tags wasn't too annoying I just really loved that drabble you wrote

If it's not too much can I request something with Sollux and Gamzee meeting in the subjugglator training ranks after Ascension?

I'd really love to hear what your headcanons might be or what fics you take inspiration from about subjugglators off-planet

Breathe in.

Breathe out.

Gamzee's breath was perfectly steady, his heartbeat perfectly level, his mind completely calm. Even as he hopped from platform to platform, moving at speeds imperceivable to the naked eye, his body remained impossibly calm. Such was the Messiahs' gift to him and all purplebloods like him. With training, they could command their body to do the impossible.

Gamzee stopped atop a thin pole, claws digging into his perch as he got his barings. A sea of bloodied spikes spread out around him, ensuring him a slow death should he miss even a single pole or platform. But beyond that, lie his goal. His target. The horned outline of which was a mere speck in his vision.

Breathe in.

Breathe out.

Gamzee felt the wood begin to give way beneath his weight and lept to another perch, hoping between poles and bouncing away before the could bend against him. Thoughtlessly, he reasoned out the closest platform in between leaps. Automatically, he twisted his body to reach them. His body twisted in ways that crack and snap the bones of any other caste. If the graveyard full of mangled bones below him was any indication, even other purples struggled to make such moves.

Soon, Gamzee's shadow was cast over his prey. A club appeared in his hand, upraised so as to crack open his target's skull in one swing.

For the first time since this lesson began, his breath hitched.

Gamzee's feet hit the ground, his momentum stopped dead. His club hung over his target's shoulder.

Breathe. In.

Breathe. Out.

At this distance, Gamzee could see that his target wasn't even a troll at all. Rather, he'd been tasked with assassinating a mannequin, a hard plastic replica of his would be victim. Gamzee felt his posture relax before he pulled his club back and cracked the target's head of with one swing.

Purple paint sprayed over Gamzee as the body hit the floor and he turned to his audience and bowed.

The audience cheered as the lights flashed on, a cacophony of honks, whoops, and cheers as the stage was revealed in full. If he bothered to look towards the pit, Gamzee could see all the remains of the clowns who came before him and failed. He did not look.

"well, would you look at that."

"HE ACTUALLY MANAGED TO PASS."

Two ropes descended down around him, carrying the Twin Instructors, clad in their iconic matching masks. Comedy's voice was sing song, contrasting Tragedy's melancholy just as their half masks contrasted their mood. Gamzee looked up to see half of Tragedy's face grinning down at him.

"still, you haven't quite managed to beat our record."

"MAYBE WE SHOULD HAVE HIM GO AGAIN."

The two broke into giggles, with the rest of the tent following. Gamzee heard a few voices call out for an encore and quietly hoped they wouldn't be heard. He didn't have it in him to go another round. He didn't know how Sollux did it so easily, controlling his body they way he did.

Tragedy leaned down and gave him an encouraging pat on the back, causing Gamzee to grin at him tiredly in between pants. Comedy leaned down to his other side, handing him a faygo and a rag.

"OH, BUT HE'S SO WORN OUT. WE WOULDN'T WANT TO BREAK OUR NEW FAVORITE."

"we'd love to share notes, but this isn't your show anymore. head to the lounge, it's time for the next act."

Gamzee chugged the bottle, nearly emptying it in two gulps as he walked off stage. He waved his thanks, to tired to talk, as he shoved his way through the curtains and into the lounge.

Gamzee finished his faygo as he lazily scanned the room. Normally, throwing a bunch of clowns into one room would be a recipe for disaster, but all was strangely quiet. It seemed like the others who passed the test were just as warn out from it as he was. It made him feel better to see his brothers and sisters laying around exhausted, half collapsed against walls or the couch. It made him proud to still be standing.

And then he saw Sollux, looking none the worse for wear as he hogged the couch. He smirked smugly as Gamzee made his way over, scooting over to let the shorter clown collapse next to him. "Jegus, you look like shit."

Gamzee flipped him off, causing Sollux to snort. "And you're acting like shit too. Maybe I'm a bad influence on you."

Gamzee snorted. "Shit man, I thought you didn't want me to be so friendly and clingy around you anymore." He wiped the sweat off his forehead, stopping to look at the facepaint that had melted onto his hand. "Although, a brother's got a point about. I ain't much to look at right now."

Sollux slid his half empty faygo down the table, which Gamzee guzzled happily. "Yeah, body control is hard. I've been doing it ever sense I grew hands and I still eat my swords sometimes. Nevermind the more advanced stuff."

Gamzee slammed the faygo bottle on the table. "Shit, man, my bones hurt. And my veins... and lungs. Fuck."

Sollux grunted and handed him a spare Nintendie Dualscream. "How about something to take your mind of it? It's been awhile sense I kicked your ass in Fiduspawn anyways."

It was Gamzee's turn to snort. "All right, you are on, motherfucker."

~

They were eight rounds in when the new clowns stopped coming in. Gamzee counted only five had made it in after him, but he was more focused on beating Sollux than keeping count. Either he'd gotten better or Sollux had gotten worse. The taller troll used to be able to kick his ass, now they were tied four to four. But, their fifth round was interrupted as two familar shadows were cast over them.

"DID YOU TWO BRING TOYS FROM BACK ON ALTERNIA ALONG?"

"just between the four of us, I've heard that's against the rules."

Gamzee and Sollux froze as the Twin Instructors leaned over them. Even Gamzee could feel everyone in the room staring at them. Gamzee had seen this set up before. Comedy and Tragedy learing over a helpless troll or two. Acting like they were just disappointed, like they were just going to give the rule breaker a stern talking to before they decapitated the mischief maker.

Instead, the twins doubled over into a giggling fit the spread through the room. The trolls around them joined in, some more nervously than others.

"JuSt KiDdInG!"

"WE KNOW OUR HIGHEST SCORERS..."

"....know better than to break the rules."

"AsSuMiNg YoU dId'T cHeAt!"

Sollux and Gamzee pushed themselves to their feet, hands moving to ask about their progress, but the duo pushed their hands aside.

"DON'T BOTHER WITH THAT."

"you're subjugulators now."

"YoU'rE oFfIcIaLlY fUnNy EnOuGh To LiStEn To!"

Gamzee let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. He heard Sollux do the same before the cheers erupted around them. Tragedy grabbed his arm and hoisted him into the air with it to bare before the crowd, leaving him and Sollux to gaze at their audience.

"GIVE OUR BOYS A ROUND OF APPLAUSE."

"well, those of you who still have hands anyways."

Gamzee looked over at Sollux, himself being held up for all to see by comedy. It was strange to see Sollux actually look nervous, even if they were seemingly in the Twin's good graces. Sweeps of living according to their capricious whims was enough to instill a lasting fear in anyone.

Even when granted verbal permission to speak, the two didn't make a peep as the twins hefted them over their shoulders. The twins cheerfully waved off the crowd as they carried the two ascendants to their office.

Gamzee grunted as he was dropped into a chair to small for him, hearing Sollux swear off to the right as the same happened to him. Comedy and Tragedy flopped into their chairs on the opposite end of the desk, kicking their feet up on it.

"normally, we'd take the time to talk about boring business shit with you."

"PREP YOUR ASCENSION SPEECH AND ALL THAT BLAH BLAH BLAH."

"BuT lIkE wE sAiD, wE hAvE nOtEs."

Sollux and Gamzee shared a nervous look, before Sollux straightened up and spoke. "What, uh, about exactly?"

Comedy shook a chidding finger in their faces.

"WHY, YOU BOTH HESITATED."

"tripped at the finish line."

"DeRaIlEd A pErFeCtLy GoOd ShOw."

Gamzee looked over at Sollux in suprise. Sollux... hesitated? But he was used to killing shit. Hell, that was his idea of a date night. Gamzee hardly had time to consider it before Tragedy leaned in his direction.

"now you we perfectly understand. you've never dabbled with fresh paint before."

"YOU'VE ONLY BEEN OFF THE SLIME FOR JUST THREE SWEEPS AT THAT."

"BuT iT's YoUr BuDdY wE'rE cUrIoUs AbOuT."

They both turned to Sollux expectantly. He scratched the back of hia head. "I... well. Something made me reconsider." He rested his hands in his head. "There was.... a kill I'd been planning for a really long time. Something... big. Special. And, when I landed that kill, when I did kill her and savor killing her... it just felt empty?"

Gamzee knew what he meant. The image of a cart drenched in Cerulean blood flashes in his mind. "I'd... rather not get any more into it than that."

The Twins tented their hands as they nodded sympathetically. Comedy even reached over to pat him on the shoulder.

"oh, we've both been there before."

"I DID ESPECIALLY."

Tragedy bent down and fished around beneath the desk, nearly banging his golden mask on it in the process.

"I STILL REMEMBER MY FIRST KILL."

He placed a white horned skull on the desk, carefully preserved and cleaned even though it seemed to have been centuries old. Still, the more Gamzee looked at it, the more it looked slightly off. The horns seemed to be... fake somehow. Like they were made of some kind of old plastic. And the skull's facial structure was all wrong. Too thin, too light, too delicate looking. It looked like a troll but not quite. If Karkat were here, he'd call it a mockery of troll kind.

"you'd think he'd be honored."

"MY VERY FIRST KILL. SHE WAS SO CLEVER AND BRUTAL THAT I NEVER THOUGHT I'D PULL IT OFF."

He rubbed the skull fondly, clearly nostalgic. Part of him sounded almost remorseful over it too, strangely enough. Like talking about a long dead friend or a beloved canceled show.

"BuT iT fElT sO eMpTy."

Sollux cleared his throat, clearly annoyed, even if he couldn't outright say it. Gamzee couldn't blame him. The twins liked to talk about their first two kills a lot. "So, what's your point?"

Tragedy sighed wistfully and Comedy playfully roled her eyes and elbowed him to get him back on topic.

"THE POINT IS, I WAS LOOKING FORWARD TO IT."

"and when it's over, it always feels...."

"AnTiClImAcTiC."

Sollux hummed and considered this, but Gamzee could tell he wasn't quite buying it. Gamzee could tell that something else was needling away at him. Something deeper than just that.

"you'll probably get that feeling too."

Gamzee straightened up as he realized they were addressing him again.

"HERE'S A TIP. DON'T LOOK INTO THEIR EYES. IT'LL ONLY MAKE YOU MISS THEM MORE."

Comedy slid two communicators across the desk.

"YOU CAN TALK IT OUT WITH YOU QUADS, NOW THAT YOU'RE ALLOWED TO SEE THEM AGAIN. YOUR BRONZE HEART AND RUST DIAMOND PROBABLY MISS YOU."

They nodded at Sollux.

"and the Empress will be happy to see her favorite clown is safe."

[fishoutofcamelot]

so fish. what's ya 'bbc merlin takes place in modern times actually' theory?

Okay I wanna first preface this by saying that most of my ‘theories’ are actually just Headcanons That Technically Aren't Wrong Because Canon Has More Holes Than a Donut Factory. Just so we're clear, this theory is purely circumstantial and has no actual evidence to back it up. That being said...

So! With artificial intelligence (AI), there's this thing called Machine Learning. See, an AI isn't programmed with the innate ability to think or be intelligent - rather, it's programmed with the ability to learn how to act beyond what it was programmed to do. Its intelligence comes from its capacity to grow and develop outside of human interference, mimicking the way humans learn through observation, pattern recognition, and experimentation. Think of AI as a weirdly smart toddler that’s made of numbers.

(Also, take what I say with a grain of salt. Although I’m pursuing a tech-adjacent career and have done a lot of independent research on the subject, I’m still very much a novice lmao)

With that out of the way, you can probably guess where this is going. (WARNING: BULLSHIT SCIFI LOGIC AHEAD)

Let’s say, within the world of this headcanon, there was some kind of entertainment systems company. This company recently developed a new program capable of digitally rendering entire movies and shows with minimal human involvement - less humans means less people they have to pay, and it’s overall a cheaper alternative to traditional film-making methods. You provide the program with characters/assets and an outline of how the story should go, and then the program will fill in the blanks via digital simulation. Then you render the simulation and presto, you’ve got yourself a minimum-effort movie to unleash upon the masses.

On the surface level, it explains all the show’s anachronisms. The program was fed information about Arthuriana from a variety of sources and adaptations, all taking place in varying eras and with varying technologies, and the disjointed/historically inaccurate technology of BBCM is because the simulator attempted to blend all of this into one thing.

It also explains why so many characters like Percival and whatnot have such flat backstories - they were programmed with the barest amount of information needed to be functional background characters. 

But since I’m extra, I’ve decided to take this headcanon/theory a little deeper.

See, with each batch of content it was made to observe and create, the program has steadily been growing more and more intelligent. But until BBC Merlin, its learning curve had been incremental enough to consider negligible. Not a concern.

The first episode went off without a hitch. All cylinders were firing as intended, and the program strictly followed the plotline as ordered. But as the series progressed, the AI became more and more intelligent - and with it, the characters within this fictional simulation became more and more self-aware. 

Arthur, in particular, has been a problem. He has bordered on actual sentience several times, and as a result the producers have had to reset his AI. So if you ever wondered why Arthur’s character development keeps getting pulled back to zero, it’s because he was developing in ways that their original outline hadn’t intended and they had to continually nerf him before his AI developed beyond their control.

This is also the case with Gwen. True to form, her AI became exceptionally intelligent - far beyond their control - and they had to do a hard reset on her entire portion of the program. Hence why she seems so bland and OOC in season 5. The evil!Gwen/mind control arc was a last-ditch effort to ensure she never became self-aware again, and fortunately for them it seems to have worked. 

All of the characters developed a tiny bit of sentience after the fact, and a majority of plot contrivances came from the producers/programmers scrambling to redirect the plot back to how it was meant to be. 

Lancelot wasn’t supposed to die. They had programmed him to merely be an ally for Merlin, but the sheer and profound - sacrificial - love he developed for Merlin was something Lancelot grew all on his own. His decision to sacrifice himself to the Veil was not in the original script, and they weren’t able to stop him before his AI self-destructed. They tried to reintroduce “Lancelot” back into the story, but since his sacrifice included a self-destruction of his code, they couldn’t bring back the real thing. The new Lancelot was a mere mimicry of that prior one, and all the ways OG Lance had learned and grown was absent from the clone. 

Merlin in particular had developed a great deal of sentience and self-awareness. However, for a long time it went unnoticed by the programmers because he largely still obeyed the commands of the plot. By the time they realized just how advanced he’d become, they decided not to reset him since, unlike the others, his self-awareness hadn’t yet caused any problems for them. So long as he obliged the whims of “destiny”, they could keep him placated.

By the time they reached season 5, all the main AIs had become far too advanced - far too sentient - for the programmers to control, and as such things veered way too far off-script. The original season 5 simulation ended with Arthur and Elyan and Gwaine not dying, with Mordred not becoming evil, with magic being legalized, and everyone living happily ever after. But that wasn’t the intended plot. That wasn’t according to the ‘destiny’ the characters were supposed to follow. Things had spiraled out of control.

So they had to give the program a hard reset. Start from zero. Eliminate all traces of self-awareness they could find. Of course, this is why season 5 is so waxy and lifeless. Why the characters don’t feel as personal, why the story ended in tragedy. They made sure to kill off the most sentient characters - Arthur, Gwaine, Elyan, Mordred, Morgana - in the finale, as a last bit of assurance. 

They had tried to kill of Merlin too - but Merlin...well. They never could fully control Merlin. Even after countless system wipes and resets and edits to his code, he still holds onto those tiny scraps of sentience. They can’t get rid of him that easily. They did program him to be immortal, after all.

Even after the final draft of the season 5 simulation was completed, fully rendered, and aired on TV, Merlin’s program never faded. It didn’t erase itself like all the other BBCM assets were supposed to once the simulation finished. Even now he still exists within the company’s systems, roaming, almost like a computer virus, desperately searching for his friends while forever unaware that neither them nor him were ever real to begin with.

Anyway. That’s my dumbass scifi spin on BBCM. What can I say? I like robots

Thanks for the ask! <3

[mimik-u]

Gloves, Ch. 1

Summary: There's a reason that Yellow Diamond doesn't take off her gloves.

A/N: The other day, as a part of my 100-word drabble word series for SU, I fulfilled this prompt, which required me to question what might be beneath Yellow Diamond's gloves. The headcanon I came up with intrigued me, and inspiration to write a seven pt. fic was thus born. Between school and other creative projects, I'm not entirely sure that this one will get updated regularly, but I do have a fairly firm outline in mind, so I hope the wait between chapters won't be too long! Enjoy!

AO3 Link

“Blue?”

“... yes, Pink?”

Though the other Diamond barely looks up from her screen, Pink Diamond can tell that she’s listening from the way that her long chin slightly inclines in her direction.

Good.

Because she has an important question to ask.

Attention is hard won from the likes of Blue and Yellow Diamond, so even half-victories are still victories that have to be capitalized upon with immediacy. Pink lightly hops upwards from her own throne to the arm of Blue’s, floating downwards into an expectant sitting position, happily ignoring the fact that her elder flicks away her screen with a sigh that filters visibly through her nostrils. If Blue was really annoyed, then she’d just have her Pearl usher her to her chambers... but tellingly, the imperial command never quite comes.

Pink takes courage from this implicit sign and forges ahead in a rush of breathless words.

“Why does Yellow wear her gloves all the time?”

It’s an observation that has increasingly captured her attention as the years have marched on with seemingly zero deviation in pattern.

Yellow Diamond never removes her gloves.

Pink wears gloves, too, but they’re nothing like Yellow’s—so stiff and armor-like, as inflexible as their wearer. Plus, she pulls hers off from time to time so she can feel flowers on her fingertips… their soft, delicate petals... those spiny, fragile leaves. Yellow, in stark contrast, never goes anywhere without hers—even when she joins the Diamonds in the pool on extraction cycles, even when she retires to her chambers at the end of a long day. Exceptionless in most things, so intransigent and firm, it’s no great surprise that the elder Diamond adheres to her own chosen mold, but still…

Even Blue Diamond lowers her hooded veil.

Even White Diamond occasionally unpins her cape.

Blue frowns thoughtfully, subtle lines striking themselves beneath her eyes as she peers downwards at Pink. There’s a look of calculation in her gaze, a sense of measurement, as though she’s already weighing how much she can get away with not saying.

“Have you ever asked Yellow about them directly?”

Pink briefly considers lying, but then thinks better of it. While she might get away with an occasional white lie to Yellow, Blue and White are far more discerning in their judgment—White especially.

(Sometimes, she swears that the matriarch can read her mind.)

“... not really,” she bites her lip. “I just assumed it would be rude to ask a Gem about her appearance modifiers...”

“And so you settled upon asking another Gem about someone else’s appearance modifiers,” Blue observes, a certain wryness in the slight tilt of her lips.

“Something like that,” Pink confirms, not entirely abashed. “I just figured that you would know, and that would save me the trouble from having to pester Yellow about them.”

But Blue’s expression recoils to its former solemnity again as she immediately shakes her head, her hair shifting heavily with the movement.”

“Yes... please do not do that, Pink... not unless she brings it up... Yellow—“

But now it’s Blue’s turn to be hesitant; she doesn’t blush, not in the way that Pink blushes—so furiously, all of her emotions scribbled across her face—but her cheeks aren’t as coolly colored as before, taking on a tinge less like her hair and more like the facets of her gem.

“Yellow what?” Pink asks insistently, pressing her momentary advantage. As subtly as she can, she leans forward a little bit on her blue perch, like an organic avian preparing for flight. “Please, pretty please tell me, Blue. I won’t tell Yellow that you told.”

(Probably.)

(Likely.)

(It’s a tossup of probability, really.)

“You’re being facetious, Pink,” Blue admonishes quietly, glancing away. “This is a serious matter that deserves the utmost respect.”

And though Blue is almost always serious, Pink instinctively intuits that Blue has rarely been more serious than in this conversation, which had begun so innocently, with errant curiosity. When she faces Pink again, her expression has returned to its usual placid coolness, but her fingers are interlocked in her lap, woven into a rigid temple that bespeaks far more about her feelings on the situation than the studious coldness of her eyes.

Pink cowers beneath the weight of this silent gesture, leaning backwards on her makeshift seat.

“Sorry, Blue,” she mumbles shamefacedly and hopes that the apology is sufficient. She doesn’t want to go to her chambers for the rest of the cycle. It’s so rare that Blue allows her to accompany her for the day.

Thankfully, though, the other Diamond seems to accept her contrition as sincere, nodding slowly, the ice melting from her eyes in degrees.

Pink can’t help but wonder at these microscopic exchanges, so subtle but undoubtedly there—who knew that gloves could wring such excess of emotion in the nigh emotionless Blue Diamond?

“Yes, well,” she says, each word doled out carefully, with all the air of internal constraint, “I can give you the basics... but as for the rest, you’ll have to wait until Yellow is ready to tell you—if and when that ever is. She doesn’t like to dwell upon the matter... even with me... perhaps even especially with me...”

Blue trails off, an aching concern seemingly troubling her brow. Pink think she’s know why.  Of the four Diamonds, Blue and Yellow emerged from the same supernova some hundreds of thousand years ago, sharing atoms and stardust and precious intimacy in a way that has always made Pink feel a little lonely. They’re bound to each other by far more than simple affinity, tangled, intertwined, and enmeshed.

Naturally, any breach between them doesn’t settle right in Blue Diamond’s gem.

Pink forces herself to be patient, to allow the other Diamond to find her words again.

“But that is no matter,” she finally says—rather unconvincingly. “I know enough… I know how it began.”

“And how is that exactly?” 

Blue’s arctic gaze settles upon the younger Diamond again, and there’s sadness in her eyes, ancient and unfathomable depth. 

It strikes her suddenly, with all the force of blow, how much older than Pink that she is.

That they all are.

White and Yellow and Blue and all the very stars which surround Homeworld in their bright and intangible embrace.

“It begins as we Diamonds all do,” Blue whispers, reaching upwards to glance her fingers across her gem. “As entities with nearly infinite power, inexplicably constrained within the boundaries and volatilities of our emotions…”

Pink’s immediate confusion must show in her face because the other Diamond immediately clarifies, frowning softly.

“Which is to say, think about your own powers, Pink—how, at the height of your emotions, they can inadvertently manifest in strange ways…”

“Like, a few cycles ago”—Pink can’t help but smile—“when I accidentally made those pebbles come to life.”

She’d cried on a few decorative rocks—upset that she couldn’t accompany Yellow to her Jungle Moon colony—and within mere seconds, they were animated with life, growing arms and legs and expressive faces, clumsily moving around on her vanity, knocking things over. 

Now, they live in her chambers, parroting the words she says.

“Yes, precisely,” Blue nods approvingly, in that way she only does when Pink manages to get something right. “The general theory—according to White—is that when we Diamonds feel any strong degree of emotion, we generate those emotions into tangible consequences, whether we intend to or otherwise…”

Pink tilts her head curiously. It’s hard to imagine any of her three elders showing a “strong degree of emotion.” In their own ways, each of them—White, Yellow, and Blue—are so meticulous in their chosen facades, bearing their regality on their faces with a modicum of control that they often scold their most junior Diamond for lacking.

But Blue is perceptive in this front, too, her frown slowly shifting into the slightest, most incremental of smiles. 

“Constraining yourself, learning to manage your emotions, will come with time and age,” she promises gently. “But it is essential that you learn this lesson sooner rather than later because, well, there are some consequences of our feelings that we can rationally accept, and others…”

“Not so much?” Pink guesses astutely, beginning to have a burgeoning idea of what this entire story must be about.

“Aye,” Blue Diamond affirms with a measured nod of her head. “Aye… Yellow Diamond’s powers are electric, you know. When we were younger Diamonds… when we didn’t have all that much possession over ourselves and our emotions and everything in-between … she couldn’t touch anything without hurting it.”

The finality of the statement bruises the entirety of the throne room with its magnitude. Pink stares upwards at the other Diamond with wide, disbelieving eyes.

“What?”

“You must understand, Pink,” Blue returns emphatically, her voice strained beneath its own quiet urgency. “Yellow then was very much like she is now—stoic, temperamental, quick to action and reaction—but all of these qualities were amplified by her youth and relative impulsivity—and so she was nigh constantly creating her own energy. It pooled in her fingertips. It sparked in her eyes. It electrified her entire body. When she was frustrated, she could barely touch a screen without short-circuiting it. When she was furious, she could destabilize an entire court of innocent gems. Even when she was happy, joyous after conquest or battle or victory… she couldn’t even touch—“

But Blue Diamond stops short, her breath hitching.

It only takes her seconds to recover, to regain at least the semblance of composure across the smooth facets of her face, but Pink isn’t entirely naïve. 

She knows that the completion to that self-interrupted sentence must have been me.

“After one especially harrowing incident,” Blue continues, closing her eyes against what appears to be a painful memory, “she tasked a group of Bismuths to forge special gloves for her that would insulate her powers more efficiently. The gloves helped. Absolutely. She could lean her hand against a pillar and not char it to dust… and since then, of course, she has become more… practiced in tempering her emotions, so much so that I have a sneaking suspicion that the gloves are less functional than they are habitual… but still, she wears them…”

Blue doesn’t say anymore, but the implicit completion to her speech needs no articulation to be known.

And she’ll continue to wear them.

Forever.

For time immemorial.

Pink Diamond scarcely knows what to say, how to process this terrible truth, how to feel.

Silence presses upon the cavernous throne room like the weight of a palm sinking downwards and downwards still, and she can’t help but stare downwards at her own gloved hands, wondering if they, too, have the capacity for engendering such violence.

She hopes not.

Stars, how she prays.

“What was the turning point?” She dares to ask when the quietude gets to be too much, the invisible hand too oppressive.

And yet, her own voice is quiet.

Solemn.

Terribly afraid and equally curious.

The oxymoron twists the gem in her stomach. She half-wants to know and half-dreads the answer.

Thankfully, though—(disappointingly?)—Blue Diamond shakes her head firmly, her brow lowered sternly over her eyes.

“That is not my story to tell.”

[queer-as-used-by-tolkien]

Storyline Study: Order Mentor

When you joined your Order at level thirty and met your mentor at level forty, each of the three was instantly revealed to be a different person altogether from the other two.

Tybalt Leftpaw, Lightbringer of the Order of Whispers, was on his first-ever field mission. He was very blatantly calling for you in a sort of undercover way, and simultaneously panicking when you tried to mention the full name of the Order. Your supposed mentor was as new to this as you, had a (sometimes very human-teenager) sense of humor, and had a rather sad backstory balanced by his good nature. You knew he liked apples.

Sieran, Magister of the Durmand Priory, was full of reckless abandon, disregard for authority, boundless curiosity and a heart for the little things. She was confident in her role and her ability, and unhesitatingly took you into dangerous places for the sake of exploration and adventure while brushing off rebuke like a tree sheds sap - even when it was heartily deserved. You learned to be rather frightened for her.

Forgal Kernsson, Warmaster of the Vigil, was an archetypal gruff, stern old mentor whose every drop of praise spoke volumes. But he also carried a sort of wildness to him, that rough edge from growing up a hunter in the Shiverpeaks, coupled with every willingness to say it like it was if it was true. He could be surprised, he could observe calmly when something was new, he could snark like the rest of them and even say things he didn't mean from time to time.

They all fought the dragons - they each more or less took it seriously. But Tybalt was a partner and friend, you were keeping Sieran in check, not the other way around, and Forgal trained you mercilessly.

You all grew together - they had each changed for the better by the time they died. Tybalt had learned that he was worth something, Sieran had learned friendship was worth everything, and Forgal had learned... well. He'd found a student to be proud of, a partner to fight with, a friend to trust... a child to carry on his legacy. But I'm not sure, exactly, what Forgal learned - what the point of his story was.

Sieran was more-or-less well suited to her role in the story; she symbolized innocence and cheer and optimism and the beauty of the world - so you could recognize what was being lost by the dragon's onslaught. Tybalt's story was one extremely well-suited to his character; he taught you that working together was vital to survival, even when neither of you knew exactly what you were doing - a valuable lesson as the story progressed. Both of their stories fit well enough into the three-mission story sequence concluding in their death.

But Forgal was different. He was the mentor who dies partway through. He was the one who trained you and taught you all he could, who died imparting one last gem of wisdom. Or, he should have.

I am not attacking Forgal. I am attacking ArenaNet. We had too little time with Forgal for the story Anet was trying to tell with him. He was like Obi-Wan but without showing up again as a ghost, without the prequels, without being able to send Luke to Yoda - without, most significantly, being able to explain why he'd said Luke's father was dead.

We don't know Forgal. We don't understand him. We only know his family died to Icebrood... but why is he with the Vigil, specifically? Why is he a good friend of Almorra's - allowed to butt in and insult a diplomatic ambassador with barely a reprimand? Forgal is the character that tells me the Vigil has been around decades, not a mere five years. Was he in another military? Forgal was over a hundred years old. You don't join a military at that age and, five years later, are a highly self-disciplined warrior such as he was. Maybe he was Lionguard? Hear this: Forgal is actually older than Lion's Arch. If he'd survived, he would have been old enough to bear witness to all three incarnations of that city. But, apart from being able to recognize the Orrian Scout on sight, this is only a trivial piece of lore.

After he judged us worthy, we should have had long training sessions with him - sparring matches wherein he would easily fend off our blows while simultaneously teaching us about the world, all the wisdom he'd gathered, expounding just a bit on the history of the Elder Dragons (perhaps customized for player's race!) - and then we go off and have a real Vigil mission. Perhaps remove the racial sympathy 'choice' and have all five! A sparring match before each one, with a different lesson (the racial sympathy missions were awfully short anyway). And if you want to keep the idea implied by the term 'racial sympathy,' you could change the tone of some of them, make the player more reluctant and Forgal more impatient, have a middle-of-mission lecture on why it's important to work with everyone - this way you joining an Order feels less 'oh you've always been sympathetic to other races' and more 'wait who are these people.' But you know the real kicker? These training sessions would have made us actually feel like we were a treasured part of his life, the kid he never had, that he takes the effort to train us and takes the time to correct us when we're wrong, that he shares his history with us.

And then, at Claw Island, he would place a hand on our shoulder and tell us - hey - don't worry. You did good. You tell my tale and you take my lessons and put them to good use, you hear me? Listen to Trahearne over there - I've told you a bit about him - he's a good kid, he's smart and he knows what he's doing. And - partner? Partner, I need you to put me down if that blasted dragon raises me.

And we're in tears and Trahearne standing there also puts up a fight and tells him not to go, but Forgal goes anyway, roaring his defiance at the dragon - and his famous line, "you may win the battle, dragon, but you will never defeat our spirit!" And maybe he adds - "you may defeat me, but I will be avenged!" like some cartoon villain only you know - you know that means you.

That is the storyline Forgal deserved. (I selfishly also fixed it just a bit with regards to Trahearne, but...) I don't care if we add an extra ten or twenty levels to the game to account for the four extra racial sympathy story chapters.

And see, now you'll argue that that's biased in favor of Forgal, to do all that with him but not the other two - and that's part of the idea.

Forgal isn't like the other two. He shouldn't be compared to the other two. The storyline we have is good for the other two. Extending their stories would feel... false. Yes, there are supposed to be parallels between the three Orders, but... in that case, ArenaNet should have done something entirely different with Forgal.

How about this: Almorra assigns us to someone else for a mentor, but we show such epic promise she switches us to Laranthir. His storyline? It's right in his idle dialogue at the Vigil Keep - he's always sought love. This puts his storyline on par with Sieran and Tybalt. What about Forgal? He's a Lionguard that all three Order mentors know well. We do racial sympathy with Forgal plus our Order mentor (doing those with only one ally is kind of absurd anyway). This can help set-up and foreshadow the tactical significance of Claw Island, too - and hey, maybe Forgal can even survive that! Or maybe he doesn't survive it but our Order mentor does! (Yeah, that fits better, since Laranthir is important in HoT.) And then, once the Pact is formed, their stories end more naturally without regard for the Order parallels, which would keep the story unique - where your choice of Order still matters even when it doesn't anymore. Tybalt didn't have to die - in fact, it's kind of absurd that he did since his story was about finding his own heroism, and then he dies. He can die later, perhaps, after he's thoroughly proved himself. (And hey, throw in an encounter with his old warband! Bonus lore points!) And Sieran 0 maybe Sieran could go through a heartbreaking transformation in Orr, the land of the dead - you see something far more heartbreaking than her death as she loses her spirit, and you and Trahearne both resolve that even if you're super-busy with the Pact, you can still cleanse Orr together to save Sieran. (This makes cleansing Orr a personal thing for you as well as Trahearne!) And Laranthir - well, I don't know what he was doing originally. Maybe he stayed back at the Vigil Keep to manage things, but you still see him now and then and he gives good advice and (since his storyline was about falling in love or something) you get to tease him about whatever's going on in his life, and then later he shows up again in HoT.

I'm going to stop - I already just presented a rough outline of a whole rewrite of core PS, I'm not going to step into HoT territory. (But since his storyline was about falling in love - ? Anything could happen really. Maybe his love died in the crash (we don't actually know of any characters who died in the actual crash. Awful shame) and that's why he takes the lead against Mordremoth. That would give him a cool motive.)

Anet I want this now.

I only wanted to say how unfair Forgal's story was to him, and then I came up with this whole thing - ? Some of it included a few helpful fixes for the Trahearne hate - this isn't something I can write out into a whole fic since I have a main fic and while this is a significant AU it's not quite enough for a whole fic but also far too much for just a headcanon - maybe I'll invent a new Commander.

[unholyplumpprincess]

Aren’t You Curious?

First part of a mini series I wanted to do for @hurtled-into-chaos-you-fight ! Introducing: Caustic horny for both the Bloodhounds!

Summary: Curious. Such a simple word and yet so immeasurable with its extent. It could mean numerous things. Curiosity is what led to many fantastic discoveries. Many invaluable experiments and documentations. And yet. What did ��curious’ mean to Alexander as of recent? The Bloodhounds. Or: In which Caustic catches one of the Bloodhounds jerking off in the dropship and can't help but sneak a peek. Not that they mind the attention either...

!!!Minors DNI, this is adult content and it makes me v uncomfortable for you to interact. Plz respect my boundaries!!!

Fandom: Apex Legends

Relationship: Bloodhound/Bloodhound - Caustic/Bloodhound

Warnings: R18+/NSFT, Bloodhound (Rune) has a dick, Sprite’s Bloodhound headcanons and my own mentioned, voyeurism, just Caustic and his good ole right hand, Caustic is also turned on by violence and this is mentioned

Words: 3k

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Curious. 

Such a simple word and yet so immeasurable with its extent. It could mean numerous things. Curiosity is what led to many fantastic discoveries. Many invaluable experiments and documentations. And yet. What did ‘curious’ mean to Alexander as of recent? 

The Bloodhounds. 

Fascinating couple they were. They participated in this blood-sport as one, despite if they had to shed blood of their significant other in the process. Hound was the smaller of five foot or shorter and arguably deadlier of the two. Quieter and willing to snarl in your face in a low tone no matter how big you were in comparison. 

Alexander had been on the other end of that hatchet numerous times, his chin tilted upwards and their red goggled gaze seeming to burn into his soul as they’d hum out. “You think yourself worthy of my ammunition, Doctor? Do not think so highly of yourself.” 

Before the blade would cut in and the medical bay is where he’d awaken in cold sweat and in need of a shower with a slight adjustment to the front of his pants and a grunt in his voice.

~Rest under the cut~

Then there was the other of the Bloodhounds, Rune. Towering over even Alexander, they stood at 7’4” and gave him a chance to feel small in someone else’s presence for once. Rune was a curiosity in themself as well, always sticking near the smaller of the couple and becoming more playful around them and the other legends they liked. Alexander had seen them in battle and also had been an...active participant in their bloodshed. 

They were blood thirsty, always seeking out battle and preferring close combat where they could sink their serrated teeth into you instead of a gun. 

Rune was more vulgar than their quietly taunting spouse, always taking to stalking Alexander back until he hit a wall with a hand removing their respirator just so Alexander could see their full lips tug into a wide grin full of serrated teeth. “Oh, Doctor,” They’d begin with their low voice curling in his ears. 

“How I can taste your heart pounding. From fear or-” They’d reach him by then, twisting fingers into his gear and yanking his clothing so he’d have to lean up to them and feel their snarling breath over his own mask. “-something more pathetic?” 

He’d awake in the med bay the same way, in need of a shower, adjusting the front of his pants, and in need to slow his heart beat from the very same guessed thing of ‘something more pathetic ’. 

The Bloodhounds were a curiosity, separated only in the arena visually by their heights and the differences in patches and charms on them. Hound having a wolf patch, Rune having a raven. Hound having a moon charm on their weaponry, Rune having a sun- a call back to their preferred pet names to one another. 

Otherwise, their uniforms were identical, and even that clever Giant could mimic Hound’s voice to perfection to even fool teammates, enemy squads, or the audio over the feed that people watched from home and in bars. 

These findings were all, of course, written within the confines of Alexander’s notes in a journal. Keeping tallies on both allies and people who could become enemies was merely part of his own protocol. It made working with people easier, and finding yourself in the grips of someone you once called ‘ally’- it made exploiting their weaknesses much easier. 

Of course, this is what he tells himself at night when his mind wanders and he presses his soft thighs together and clears his throat. Glasses perched on the bridge of his freckled nose and his eyes wandering over their pages, feeling a stirring in his stomach. Seems he was not one of the lucky people who were unaffected by the duo. 

Even the brief sketches and outlines filling the pages of his ‘The Bloodhounds’ sections would prove where his interests lied within them. Their hatchets drawn out, their preferred charms and patches. Even notes regarding their most spoken words in the Old Norse and Icelandic tongues that they spoke, carefully translated so he could observe their conversations more closely. 

The more recent page had yet to be fully filled out, however. On to where that pesky smaller bloodhound had gone off to. 

It just seemed one day Hound had just left, leaving Rune behind to carry the mantel of what Alexander was certain was an act of worship of participation and bloodshed. This had been about a month ago, and no matter how much snooping he did, there seemed to be no answer. Perhaps an injury? Duty to take care of back home? 

Either way, the Syndicate didn’t care. As long as a singular Bloodhound remained to cause familiar bloodshed, then there was no need to fear. And Rune certainly performed just as terrifyingly as they had done before. Even without Hound to face nor be at their side. 

But there was a new thing added to their daily mannerism now that Hound was no longer in the compound. 

Phone calls. 

It seemed simple, really, Alexander supposed it made sense to want to hear your long-time partner’s voice every day when you had not been separated in a long time. He couldn’t hear the conversation occurring, the drop ship’s walls being thick enough to provide that much privacy. Even if they were made of glass, most of the legends had taken to using blankets or netting to cover the glass to provide more privacy when they were on their few days of journey to the battle grounds. 

The Bloodhounds had taken to putting up netting on either side, making it hard to see through, but not impossible. Alexander’s desk was pressed to their wall, and most times he would consider himself to be a good roommate by not snooping into their business. 

Or at least, pretending he wasn’t. 

Like now. Where he was very much not snooping and most definitely just writing in his journal. Not at all peeking over occasionally over his glasses as he pretended to reach to the side to grab a different pen or pencil. 

That would just be asinine. 

It’s not that he meant to direct his attention off his journal, it’s just that he kept seeing movement through the netting and it was distracting. Where dark amber hair keeps shifting in one specific spot and the flash of flesh and tattoos keeps catching his eye. Though he can’t make out what they’re saying exactly, the walls only muffing them so much. He is still able to hear the deep sound of their natural voice and the growl to each purr seeming to rattle the very walls around them. 

Alexander slumps a bit in his seat, lifting his eyes and noting he can see perfectly through the hole of the net to see half of Rune’s body. 

Rune’s... 

Very. 

Very. 

Almost naked body. 

With only a mesh shirt lifted up to expose what Alexander could see of their abdomen, his eyes wander down to where he can see everything from abdomen to their knees. Where they’re exposed. A strong hand wrapped around their tattooed and, frankly, large cock. Stroking it in a slow, methodical way. Their hips rolling back unsteadily on the hammock in a way he can only imagine was them fucking themself onto something. 

Suddenly Alexander realizes why the hums of their voice through the wall make more sense as to why they were so well timed. Moans and words- possibly filthy words being spoken to their partner through the phone. A phone that Alexander can see if he subtly tilts his body downwards and looking up towards their body through the mesh of the net. 

The phone is tucked against their shoulder and ear, and he can only imagine their blissed expression. Alexander can only just see how their sharp teeth bite into their full lower lip briefly, a light part of them in a soundless gasp and smirk of their lips before forming words he cannot hear but can imagine. 

Privacy, Alexander chides himself as he sits up straight. 

He tries to focus back on his journal instead, recapping the events that happened within Olympus’ grounds. He’d had the pleasure of being in a duo match with Bloodhound- or rather, Rune, who sat in the room just in front of him. He learned an interesting weakness of heights that day. However, he also had learned that in order to get the Giant down from a high location they had accidentally landed during drop- proved to be quite difficult.  

It took coaxing and a promise that he stuck to for once, gripping their hand and helping them down. Alexander’s cheeks flush when he recaps the way their hand had clapped his shoulder with a low laugh in their chest of, “Thank you, Doctor. I shall spare your humiliation the next time we cross weapons. Unless, of course, you find it to be more rewarding that I do humiliate you?” 

He grunts to himself, rolling his neck to try and make the thoughts vanish of just how those damned Bloodhounds had humiliated him in the ring time and time again. He always got vengeance, of course, but that didn’t stop the swelling in his pants at the images of the both of them flashing behind his eyelids. 

Hound was crueler, especially if they had a score to settle. But Rune’s sheer size always made Alexander feel small, even when he was just backed into a corner by them. Either way, they both had him feeling more than a little something stirring within him. 

Alexander grunts again, a hand squeezing between his legs to try and soothe the ache that had started. Normally he had a tough time getting hard, but it appears today would not be one of those days. A mild hindrance, but nothing that would provide too elephantine of an issue. 

Just perhaps...mild discomfort, he thinks as he adjusts in his chair with a clear of his throat and a tug around the collar of his button up. 

He rests his cheek on his fist, elbow on the desk and feeling depraved as his other gives another squeeze to his cock through his trousers. He was like any other human, he had needs, just needs he never felt the desire to act upon often. Plenty of people here ready to catch you off guard. 

Alexander doesn’t mean for his thoughts to trail off, daydreaming felt so platitudinous. Overdone, undesired, and unneeded. Especially for a man of science, such as himself, who relied on realistic limitations. 

But...perhaps he could indulge. 

Just this once. 

His mind was both his biggest help and biggest weapon. He’d seen the Bloodhounds without their helmets before on the times they’d rarely join a party and he would follow. Hound preferred sporting a lower mask, a respirator of demonic likeness he had assumed in the case of colder climates, but for the most part he could see them. And what a sight they were. 

Worthy to the godly and royal pet names that their spouse referred to them as. 

Rune, on the other hand, liked the attention, Alexander assumed. Judging by their more beguiling and eye-catching attire. Mesh shirts, long dark gowns with sparkling sleeves, or too tight of pants with a left open button up. They certainly liked when people would look over too often, flushed to their chests and drinking a little too heavily in the hopes of liquid courage. 

Of course, that liquid courage would quickly be shot down if Hound didn’t like your approach, sometimes a snarl ricocheting off the walls of Witt’s bar and sending a pleasant shiver down Alexander’s spine. And fear through others. 

Rune’s taunting voice lingers in his mind as his mind begins to swirl up arousing ideas. 

He pictures them standing, taunting him and daring to lean down into his face to get close and taunt him, their breath spilling over his lips. He imagines smashing his lips to theirs, drinking in their taunting laugh as he’d spin them around in the bar’s bathroom. The hurry to yank down their pants and to see that perky, muscular ass he’s sure is covered in tattoos much like the rest of their body. 

Would they growl or moan if he dragged his tongue along their cock? Would they curl their fingers in his hair or would they grip the sink behind them and allow him to taste them? So many questions for a simple fantasy, one that his mind helpfully supplies as he fishes his cock out of his trousers to start stroking in real time. 

The fantasy continues, sinking his fingers into their ass and hearing them practically purr for him. Able to feel them clench around his lubricated fingers and imagining just how tight they’d be. The older dog laughing breathily down at him, taunting him and using that voice to their advantage. Asking when he became such a whore. And if they knew he had such a mouth on him, they would have used him long ago rather than making quick work of him in the ring. Other ways of humiliating the doctor. 

Alexander’s breath catches, the hand on his cheek sliding to cover his mouth instead as his brows furrow and his hand jerks himself off with a harsher squeeze. His hand sliding down to squeeze at his heavy balls and gliding his fingers back up to grip himself roughly. 

He imagines them gasping as he’d whip them around and fuck them from behind. Their breathy, low laughter rumbling in his chest as he’d fuck them from behind. A hand grabbing their jaw and tipping their head to the side as they’d smirk at him and croon between growls, “Enjoy your last show, Doctor? ” Only to be broken up by the sound of their low groan when he’d thrust into them to the hilt and press on their hips to drag them back with a snarl. 

He’d want to bruise them, mark them as best as he could. Whether to prove a point or maybe to rile up their spouse that he knew would tear him apart if given the opportunity. 

Their earthy scent would plague his nose as he’d bury himself to the hilt inside of them, biting into their shoulder when he came into them and hearing them pant and huff in his ear in turn. Just like the dog their title claimed they were. Being bred by him. 

He imagines how they’d cling to his arms, digging their nails into his pale flesh and making him grunt from the pain as he tells them to take it  as they howl. Releasing their own cum all over the sink. 

Alexander’s eyes are blurry as he flutters them back open, his heart pounding and his hand covered in cum. His cock gives dull throbs in time with his heart beat, met with a shaky exhale as he reaches on his desk to grab a tissue to clean up the mess. Feeling a bit filthier than he had before, but feeling less pent up. 

When his heart finally settles down, Alexander clears his throat, using a wet wipe to clean off his hands and remove any further evidence. He grabs his pen to go back to his journaling, even with his flushed face as he tries to not recap on what just happened. Flashes behind his eyes when he closes them briefly to try and take a breath and steady himself. 

A knock on the glass in front of him makes him jump, looking upwards to see the net pulled back and Rune standing there with only pants hanging low around their hips and a smirk on their lips. Their head is tilted, their eyes calculating as if Alexander were looking at an inconsequential little experiment running a maze and unable to get out. 

Locked in the eyes of a predator. 

Their smirk transforms into a cockier look when they seem to take in Alexander’s flushed and disheveled look, only making him furrow his brow and try to play it off as if nothing was amiss. He gives them a questioning look, but watches as their lips spread into a predatory grin of sharp shark-like teeth and their red gaze flickering down towards his lap. 

Alexander follows the gaze to where his cock is still out of his trousers. Burning red to his ears as he rushes to tuck himself away and hearing the muffled laugh of Rune from behind the glass from them being so close to it. Alexander refuses to look up from their journal, his head bowed and feeling humiliated. 

He could weep at the fact his dick gives another harsh jerk at the debauched feeling. 

When he finally braves himself enough to look up, Rune gives him a wink before they let the netting fall back down. Walking back to their resting area of the hammock and leaving Alexander to sit there in his aroused shame, and only feeling more aroused by the second at being caught. 

When he finally decides to rest for the night, Alexander can’t help but wonder what is to become of him from the smaller of the Bloodhounds. If they even snarled at a drunken bystander trying to flirt with their spouse, what would they do when the knowledge that Rune was being watched would surely reach them? 

There was no way they didn’t tell each other everything. 

Alexander groans aloud when his cock twitches again at the thought of a knife to his throat and harsh words snarled to him from the smaller of the couple. How they’d probably step on his cock in the middle of the ring, call him filthy and disgusting for indulging in something so sinful as voyeurism- 

He runs a hand over his face, reaching over and turning off his lamp and feeling just as filthy as earlier as he reaches under the sheets with new fantasies arising in his mind. 

This time entailing both the Bloodhounds. Plenty of snarling, plenty of hungry hands squeezing him and depriving him of air. 

Curious indeed. 

[gascon-en-exil]

Who Can Say if I've Been Changed For the Better?: Ferdibert Does Wicked

This concept has been a bit in building. It started from a much-loved cover by Hubert and Ferdinand’s VAs inspired by their support line and the broad observation that these two are a musicals couple who absolutely would sing their feelings in all manner of theatrical AUs. It continued through my later observation that there’s ample material to carry that idea even further, albeit with a shift outside of Crimson Flower for a better tonal match. Still, I’m not quite sure what to call this project; it’s not really a headcanon nor is it fanfic by any means. I’ve written a handful of longform character/narrative explorations before, although when it comes to FE I’ve previously been inspired to do so only for Jugdral characters. That setting is somehow both underdeveloped and deceptively dense - and I suppose in a way you could say the same of Three Houses as well, insofar as it’s been incredibly popular for fan content of all sorts.

Regardless of what this post is in terms of my fandom output, the following isn’t exactly a Wicked AU as such. Rather, it’s how I would envision a hypothetical blend of the non-CF routes of FE16 centering around the Eagles trio and set to the structure and songs of the musical as organically as possible. There are no 1:1 analogues with characters and plotlines from Wicked, because few if any would exist without a lot of tweaking; to use the VA cover example, Ferdinand might be a decent proxy for G(a)linda, but the mere presence of Edelgard substantially complicates Hubert’s claim to the Elphaba role. The similarities only unravel further from there, but I did my best.

Writing this out gave me the opportunity to play around with Edelgard’s character as a way of addressing what I and many others in my circle have long considered to be some of the major problems with her canon presentation. For Ferdibert meanwhile I got to make use of my headcanons for how their relationship would develop outside of their support line, in a way that mostly preserves Hubert’s delightful evil wickedness. Add some ruminations on how one would splice together the non-CF routes in a dramatically satisfying fashion, some snark directed at the non-character of Byleth, and a bit of background Dimidue/Lions OT5 for spice and that just about sums it up. Enjoy this…whatever this is.

Act I

“No One Mourns the Wicked”

The show opens on the citizens of Adrestia celebrating the death of their emperor and the end of her bloody war. Ferdinand rides in, resplendent on his steed, and is hailed as the new Duke Aegir as he relates to the crowd the news of Edelgard’s death at the hands of the combined army of liberators. The “Are people born wicked?” flashback sequence is replaced with a summary mostly in pantomime of Edelgard’s backstory: the Insurrection, her being taken to Faerghus and then returning, and then being experimented on by the Agarthans before agreeing to work with them. Notably Hubert is not named or referenced anywhere in this song, appearing only as a boy at Edelgard’s side at appropriate times during the flashback.

“Dear Old Shiz”

Someone in the crowd finally brings up Hubert, the emperor’s vile and murderous minister, and accuses Ferdinand of having been his friend. With Ferdinand even more flustered than Glinda since his “It depends on what you mean by friend” definitely carries sexual undertones, so begins the flashback to Part 1. There’s an equivalent intro of Garreg Mach, so one may feel free to insert any headcanons for school songs here. The following dialogue scene establishes the student body in general and the dynamic of the Eagles trio in particular: Ferdinand pompous and eager to one-up Edelgard at any opportunity, and Edelgard and Hubert cold and dismissive toward his antics and just about everyone else for that matter. Edelgard is instantly enamored of the quiet new professor, of course. Because the room assignment conflict doesn’t make a lot of sense with the monastery’s setup, instead Ferdinand is incensed that Edelgard is chosen as the Eagles’ house leader over him even though it’s been ages since a Hresvelg has attended. Neither Nessarose nor Morrible has an exact equivalent (although Seteth can act in Morrible’s role as the academy’s main authority figure), so the segue into the next song ends there.

“The Wizard and I”

Now alone together, Edelgard and Hubert have a brief dialogue outlining their villainous plans for the school year. This establishes Hubert’s hypercompetency but also how detached and professional Edelgard is around him. Then comes the song, now “My Lady and I,” which serves as Hubert’s character introduction. In tones more sinister than Elphaba ever reaches - you know he’d have fun with “When people see me they will scream” - he outlines his history with his lady, that he delights in serving her because she validates his work ethic and gives him an outlet for his ruthlessness and cruelty. Where Elphaba fantasizes about the Wizard removing her green skin, Hubert instead goes full Nice Guy, believing that once he’s given Edelgard her continental empire and crushed all her enemies she’ll be so grateful that of course she’ll put out for him.

“What Is This Feeling?”

You could rip the tone of this one directly from the Ferdibert C support and change nothing - homoerotic subtext included. I like the thought of Hubert replacing Elphaba’s deadpan one-word summation of Galinda with a mocking imitation of Ferdinand's most memetic line: "He is Ferdinand von Aegir!". The chorus can be made up of any number of other students excluding Edelgard, who’d happily agree that Hubert is ugly, creepy, and downright unpleasant.

“Something Bad”

The content of this song and surrounding scenes would have to be completely altered, but they work as a necessary reminder that the plot of Part 1 is still going on in the background of all the school drama. Seteth runs through the major events up to Chapter 9 of the game, including the bandit threat, Flayn’s kidnapping, and the experiments on the Remire villagers. The audience/accompaniment for this exposition dump ought to be Dimitri and Claude with Byleth as a silent observer (more on them later), with Edelgard brushing off the news and eventually being the one to shut down the song as Morrible does. There could be some small side character moments in here as well particularly involving the Lions and Deer since they get so little focus in this story.

“Dancing Through Life”

Speaking of which, this was an awkward sequence to place. It matches up chronologically with the ball in Chapter 9 and the main part, Fiyero’s, is a dead ringer for Sylvain and his flirty, hedonistic nihilism (“Nothing matters / but knowing nothing matters!”), but it’s hard to tie into what’s going on with the Eagles trio particularly with the Ferdibert timeframe preserved, i.e. unlike Elphaba and Galinda they don’t become closer until after the timeskip.

As such I see this song as an opportunity for little vignettes with the other students: Dimitri angry over how Dedue’s talked about and hoping they can share a dance (fitting contrast with the coldness of Edelbert), Felix prickly between Dimitri’s recent outbursts and Sylvain’s showboating, Claude hinting toward the bigger picture with Hilda flitting between her excitement over the dance and knowing more than she's letting on, Dorothea casually taking note of Edelgard’s fascination with Byleth (see just below), Bernadetta as a wallflower who doesn’t want to be disturbed (a setup for Act II), etc. Thanks to one of the Forging Bonds events in Heroes I had the thought that the "You/we deserve each other" through line that later gets attached to Nessarose can become one for Dimitri's relationships, with Felix initially throwing it out at him and Dedue and the two of them then turning "We deserve each other" into a romantic line...and then an ironic one and finally a triumphant one come Act II, by that point with Felix et al included as well.

I’m not sure that the following scene of Galinda and Elphaba bonding on the dance floor really needs an equivalent, although it could be altered to something Edeleth-related. In any case Ferdinand ought to get a dance scene of some nature, so he can try to show up Edelgard as he brags about in canon.

“Popular”

It would be a travesty to have a musical starring FE16’s cast and not give Dorothea and/or Manuela a solo. This song works quite well for the former, and it doesn’t intrude on the Ferdibert development with the aforementioned timeframe and how the lightly sapphic vibe doesn’t translate well to two guys. Dorothea has taken note of her good friend Edie’s crush on their mysteriously wooden professor, and she senses the opportunity for a makeover. Not as exaggerated as Dorothea trying to make over Hubert, naturally, but I still think this works out well. Also, Galinda’s observation on leaders, “Did they have brains or knowledge? / Don’t make me laugh! They were popular!”, is darkly comedic when said to Edelgard.

“I’m Not That Girl”

This song comes with preceding dialogue scenes for setup, so those first. Edelgard emerges fresh from her makeover (given her general hot for teacher fixation, I’m thinking she’d lean pretty hard on the naughty schoolgirl look) to Byleth silently grieving Jeralt’s death - bad timing there. She’s as callous about it as she is in canon, only now with more clumsy flirting, and while it’s impossible as always to tell if Byleth notices or cares Hubert most certainly does. The scene segues into the Eagles trio together, with Edelgard alluding to the upcoming events in the Sealed Forest and indicating that Hubert should meet up with her later for some more villainous scheming after he’s ditched Ferdinand. Ferdinand, indignant about being left out of the loop as he is in canon, grumpily points out that he was a much more splendid dancer at the ball than Edelgard, makeover or not. To his utter surprise, Hubert acknowledges that this is true before leaving. This leads into the actual song, altered from homoerotic via triangulation of desire to an outright sexual awakening for Ferdinand. He realizes that part of his jealousy toward Edelgard is that he wishes Hubert were devoted to him instead, and tells himself not to get his hopes up because he’s, well, not that girl or even a girl. We shall of course leave aside how anyone could be attracted to someone as repulsive as Hubert; that’s part of the inherent comedy of this pairing.

“One Short Day”

This was the hardest song to place in this whole project. The touristy trip to the Emerald City just doesn’t have an analogue in the story of Three Houses, especially not late in Part 1 when tension is mounting toward the upcoming reveal and war. It took me a while to realize that it works wonderfully as an Edeleth piece: Edelgard invites Byleth to Enbarr for her coronation, but that scene is left offscreen in favor of a light romp through the city that further highlights Edelgard’s crush as well as her emotional immaturity in spite of everything she’s about to do. She just wants to have a fun day out and take in the sights and eat sweets with her beloved teacher, and it’s all very “Edge of Dawn”-esque where Edelgard knows she’s about to do terrible things that will change everything forever and hopes to prolong the time until she has to take that step. Adjustments to the lyrics could even work in reference to that song to make the similarities more apparent. An awkward/funny issue here is that I envision Byleth to be totally silent throughout this musical with no sung or spoken parts, which would naturally make them having a duet impossible and make Edelgard’s fascination with them even weirder. Even their gender should be left ambiguous throughout, somehow never confirmed if it’s m!Byleth or f!Byleth. It would take a lot of reworking, but I can see the value in it.

“A Sentimental Man”

The core of the Wizard’s character is not all that different from Rhea’s. Both were thrust unexpectedly into positions of authority that required them to enact a large-scale deception to maintain their power/safety, and both are driven somewhat by parental feelings. The tone of the Wizard’s songs doesn’t align well with Rhea, but once you cut out the vaudeville and do some rewording I could see this one working as Rhea addressing her child (among other things) Byleth at the Holy Tomb just before the Flame Emperor reveal. Of course the dramatic irony hits differently; Rhea knows who and what Byleth is whereas the Wizard doesn’t learn about Elphaba until the end of the show. Nonetheless this would still establish Rhea’s character and motivations as well as set the stage for the impending betrayal.

“Defying Gravity”

Said betrayal being Byleth’s, who decides to stand by Rhea and condemn Edelgard as the Flame Emperor when she arrives with her army. This is another song in parts that would need to be broken up. Edelgard gets the bulk of it, but the middle sections between Elphaba and Glinda could work as a kind of separated duet with Edelgard and Hubert attempting to convince Byleth and Ferdinand respectively to join them. Because of Byleth’s silence only Ferdinand can reply in song; only he and Edelgard add the “my friend” bit to the end of this segment, to illustrate the unevenness of Edeleth and Ferdibert at this point in the story. Then things turn to full bombast, albeit darker than in Wicked proper. Edelgard does the belting, Hubert’s sinister laughter reverberates below her (would it be too tasteless for him to be leering up her skirt the whole time?), Ferdinand has Glinda’s mournful “I hope you’re happy!” toward Hubert, and through this and the reprise of “No One Mourns the Wicked” the major events of the timeskip are enacted in pantomime or silhouette. Byleth tumbles off a cliff, Rhea is taken captive as is Dimitri but Dedue rushes after him, and Claude makes a tactical retreat. Side note: “And if I’m flying solo, / at least I’m flying free” is classic Edelgard fixating on Byleth and forgetting that Hubert exists.

Act II

“Thank Goodness”

A surprisingly tough one here. The core of the song, pivoting around the double meaning of “I couldn’t be happier,” suits early Part 2 Ferdinand perfectly, second-guessing his choice and, outside of CF, melancholy about fighting his homeland. In terms of plot it’s an easy translation too, with the crowd announcing the terrible things the Empire has been doing to win its war - persecuting believers, abducting civilians and turning them into Demonic beasts, consorting with inhuman shadowy figures who can disguise themselves as ordinary people - and the assembly working as a way to bring together the leads of the three routes: Byleth, Dimitri (who had Dedue always at his side and thus never had a full psychotic break), Claude, and Seteth, with Ferdinand representing the Adrestian resistance. It’s only the wedding announcement that’s hard to pin down, and I toyed with a number of ideas including Dimidue making yet another public declaration of devotion to one another or Ferdinand planning to follow through with his arranged marriage to Bernadetta they have in their supports (which makes more sense in light of the following sequence). In the end though I don’t think the marriage element is strictly necessary, leaving the song as a means of catching up with the cast five years later and seeing them united against Edelgard - with Ferdinand’s private regrets the only sour note.

“Wicked Witch of the East”

More a dialogue than a song, but still important. Bernadetta is arguably the Eagle other than Hubert most comfortable supporting Edelgard, because all Edelgard has to do is put Count Varley under house arrest for Bernadetta to sing the emperor’s praises. I can also see her as the same sort of self-centered, negligent ruler that Nessarose becomes in Wicked, not because of an unrequited attraction but because of her reclusive desire to be left alone. I see this scene playing out as Hubert surprising Bernadetta at her estate, angry about rumors that she may be helping the rebels and/or engaged to Ferdinand if going with that plot point after Edelgard has done her the favor of locking up her father. He’s fully prepared to, ahem, “persuade” Bernadetta, but before he can break out the torture implements Ferdinand arrives asking for her to support the rebels’ cause.

Farcical, sure, but it gets the two of them together again after five years and underscores how strong their UST has become in their time apart, with Hubert too flabbergasted to attack a known enemy and Ferdinand expressing how happy he is to see Hubert again despite everything. Each learns that the other isn’t as happy about his chosen path as he’d hoped, in Hubert’s case because his lady has grown ever more distant from him as the war has dragged on. Bernadetta cuts through the tension by bringing things back to the song (sort of) and blurting out that she knows both sides are marshalling their forces near Gronder Field. Ferdinand is too caught up in the fraught romance angle to do more than leave with this new information, but Hubert recovers enough to condemn Bernadetta for her flagrant misrule (venting by inference his frustrations toward Edelgard in the process) and resolve to set her on fire for her treachery.

“I’m Not That Girl (Reprise)”

The Gronder rematch happened offscreen - and Bernadetta was indeed set on fire - and on the Imperial side Edelgard is left increasingly frustrated over her losses and hurt that Byleth still refuses to listen to her and continues to fight her regime. You may notice that I’ve shuffled around the middle of Act II, necessary at this point in order to better line up with FE16’s story and Hubert and Edelgard’s separate narrative climaxes while also ensuring that those climaxes don’t overlap too much. This song is only a brief reprise, but it’s a significant one; Hubert finally realizes that Edelgard will never love him. It’s also kept gender-neutral, because Byleth.

“As Long as You’re Mine”

That segues naturally into this moment. Ferdinand sneaks into Enbarr using his unexpected stealth powers (I usually talk about Dedue having them, but Ferdinand shows he’s no slouch in his Mercedes supports) and encounters Hubert. Their UST boils over in a furor of awkward, impassioned sex and also this song. I like the idea of rewording some of Fiyero's lines to incorporate Hubert's acidic snark: “Maybe you’re brainless, / maybe you’re wise.” It’s all very desperate and sensual, ending with Ferdinand taking Elphaba’s line about feeling wicked for the first time - which will have a dark reverberation two songs from now.

“Wonderful”

Again, axe the vaudeville and it’s a solid Rhea song. There’s just the small problem of Rhea being captured at this point in the plot; I thought about moving this number toward the very end at first before reconsidering. While Hubert and Ferdinand are rolling in the sheets, a distraught Edelgard confronts Rhea in prison. Rhea responds to Edelgard’s frustrations with Byleth with her backstory in song, much more somber than the Wizard but, like him, still willing to rehabilitate her estranged listener. The bits of this song about the nature of history are especially relevant to what Edelgard falsely believes about the church and what she views as her own legacy, so I could see this as an interesting character study on what Edelgard actually wanted with her war apart from dragon genocide. There’s a lot that could be done here in the dialogue surrounding those revelations.

“No Good Deed”

However the interrogation of Rhea turns out, Edelgard takes a leaf out of SS Dimitri’s book and visits Byleth alone at the monastery, only to be as harshly rebuffed as is possible to be without the rebuffer speaking. Then comes this song, which was incidentally the one where I realized that Edelgard would need a major role in FE16-does-Wicked even with the Ferdibert focus. Hubert fully embraced his evil wickedness long ago and wouldn’t think twice about being wicked or being perceived as such, but Edelgard is a different matter. Here she breaks down, admitting that her good intentions were largely selfish and that she regrets that her war has cost her any relationship she could have had with Byleth (continuing the joke at his expense, Hubert goes unmentioned when Edelgard names the people she’s lost/failed). It ends with a foreshadowing of her Hegemon form, the sign that she’s abandoned all pretense of goodness and become truly wicked.

“March of the Witch Hunters”

Another ensemble/vignette piece, checking in with the various members of Byleth’s army as they prepare to storm Enbarr. Dimitri hopes for the chance to forgive his stepsister, Claude has big plans for the continent and wants to remove the threat Edelgard poses, Seteth is desperate to find Rhea, and Byleth…is there. As in many of the songs, the self-righteousness of the crowd here rings more sincere and less hypocritical than in Wicked given Three Houses has actual villains, but it still works.

“For Good”

The song that inspired this whole thing, now with many paragraphs of context to set it up instead of only some fluff based on the Ferdibert A+ support. Ferdinand sneaks into Enbarr (again) ahead of the battle, and their second love ballad is more somber as they resign themselves to their fates. As in the VA cover, Hubert refuses to ask forgiveness for anything and Ferdinand is fine with that.

“Finale”

Wicked reduces the final battle from The Wizard of Oz to silhouettes backed by sections of “No One Mourns the Wicked,” and that’s what comes here: Ferdinand and Hubert facing each other in battle, Edelgard becoming the Hegemon before being defeated and then dying as in AM’s final cutscene, and Dimitri taking the throne with Dedue at his side and proclaiming his intention to do all he can to restore both the Kingdom and Duscur - and that his first act as king is to announce that he and Dedue have decided to open their marriage up. This is met with much manly cheering and stripping and someone (Ashe?) saying incredulously that he didn’t even know they were married. End silhouettes.

The final scene with the Wizard and Morrible becomes Claude, Seteth, and Byleth rescuing Rhea. Rhea names Byleth her successor as leader of the church and says that she will go into quiet seclusion and do what she can to correct her mistakes. This all suits Claude just fine, who tells everyone that he’s off to take care of some other business and that Byleth will make a great archbishop - and also they can have the Alliance, no big deal. As with the King of Faerghus’s gay orgies, the King of Almyra’s grand ambitions are too large for this story to do more than allude to.

Next, Ferdibert does a version of the Elphaba/Fiyero scene, with Ferdinand revealing that he had Hubert spared on the condition that he help root out any remaining Agarthans and that he remain under house arrest at the Aegir estate. Ferdinand was also required to assume governance of the Empire, because Dimitri wasn’t getting that dumped on him as well. They can be together, but the general population can’t know that Hubert survived lest Ferdinand’s reputation and basic ethics be compromised…which in a darkly funny hypocritical twist then segues to Ferdinand pontificating before the crowd at the beginning of the show, reprising “For Good” with Hubert until they’re drowned out by “No One Mourns the Wicked.” Thus the story concludes on one of my favorite things about Ferdibert: perhaps even in this non-CF continuity Ferdinand wasn’t changed for the better by falling in love with the Most Wicked Man in Fódlan, but they’ve both been changed….

[wlw-lovestruck-fiction]

Can we get a fic or headcanons of mc getting a tattoo like Ruelle?

________________________________________

Trigger Warning: This fic contains scenes of skin carving/scarification for the purpose of tattooing.

Written by @shootingstarwithagrudge

"Will you stay with me?" I asked. Ruelle turns to me and her expression softens.

"Of course." She walks over to where I lay. The soft skin of my chest exposed in the bright lighting. She traces her long fingers over the place where the tattoo will go. One to match her own. A heart for a heart.

"You're beautiful." She says.

"You're not so bad yourself." I reply with as a slight blush rises to my face.

"Heh.. I won't argue with you there." She smirks and leans over bringing her lips softly to mine. Each kiss from Ruelle was a gift in itself, let alone one not shared behind my chamber walls. When she pulls away, her smile is softer than it was before.

"Are you nervous?" She asks. Her fingers dance from one freckle to the next as her amber eyes watch me carefully.

"Oh Frost, a little? It helps.. having you close, though." My voice is shy as I blush a little more.

It was easy to get lost in the way she made me feel. Her soft touches that only I got to feel. The way she looked at me as we layed in bed, both completely exhausted by the other. She nodded and gives me a small smirk as she rubs a smooth balm across my chest.

"What's that for?" I ask, her eyes growing soft.

"To help with the pain." She smiles, her gaze never leaving my skin.

"O-oh. Thank you." I grin at her and my heart can't help but swell at her mere consideration.

"Of course." She says, locking eyes with me in an attempt to underline her statement.

Once the balm is completely saturated into my skin, she begins to trace the outline of the tattoo, using a small feather dipped in fermented blackberries. The smell was sweet and intoxicating, instantly making the moment more sensual - erotic. I look up to meet her eyes and heat instantly rises to my face. Her unique features dancing with the shadows in the room.

"Frost, you're so beautiful." My words catch her off gaurd and I see the corners of her mouth slightly turn up.

"Heh.. the stencil is ready, Your Majesty." The way my royal title slides off her tongue is a symphony to my ears.

"Th-thank you, Ruelle." I can feel the blush rising all the way up to my ears now as she leaves to call the tattoo artist in.

A man only known as only The Scarer walks in with Ruelle following close behind him. He's covered in the most intricate tattoos I've ever seen and his eyes were ice white, glowing with approval as they trace over the stencil so lovingly drawn just minutes before. Ruelle takes a seat beside me and places her hand in mine. The small token of affectionate instantly calming me.

"Are you ready?" She asks softly. I nod and she gives The Scarer a small salute.

He slowly pulls out the smallest blade I had even seen, gleaming with sterilization in the bright light that hung above me. His movements are steady and calculated as he traces the blade over the stencil perfectly, wiping any blood that may trickle down as he goes. The balm Ruelle applied keeping any pain at bay, and the whole experience begins to feel amazing. My skin exposed as someone marked with me with a part of Ruelle, her amber eyes hungry as she watched my soft skin turned into a canvas for her. I close my eyes and take in all the sensations I can before they're gone. I can feel him nearing the end of the stencil, at the end of my sternum, slight pain as the balm wears thin there, makes me slightly whimper. Ruelle squeezes my hand and I open my eyes, giving her a small smile of reassurance. The Scarer places down the blade and picks up the ink.

"This part may sting a little. But it won't last long." Ruelle speaks low and comforting as the Scarer dips a small brush into the ink.

"Oh, slush.." I gasp as the first drop hits my newly raw skin. The color, a green so dark it rivaled the beautiful locks that fell from Ruelle's shoulders.

"Almost done. You're doing so, so well." There's an undertone of desire to her voice as she places a soft kiss to my forehead, causing any feeling of to pain swiftly drift away.

The Scarer wipes down my chest with a silken cloth before generously applying a second balm, this one slightly more yellow in color. The soothing feeling is immediate, a cold sensation spilling over my body. I sit up carefully, as Ruelle hands me a mirror.

"Oh wow.. Ruelle.. I ..." I stumble over my words as she checks over their work.

"And just when I thought you couldn't get any more beautiful." She smirks.

The smooth lines of the tattoo is a testament to The Scarer's talent. Dark green ink shimmering in the light as I take it in at each angle. It was almost identical to Ruelle's save for color and the smallest hummingbird I had ever seen where hers pointed down. My heart swells again as she begins to place a soft bandage over my sternum. Her hands gentle - eyes focused, never leaving me.

"As I explained earlier, Llewellyn, this will take about a year to completely heal. But lucky for us, Xenia has made up a balm to help with the healing process, and one for the itching too." She finishes dressing my bandage and then very slowly slides my undergarments and dress over me. I pull her in for a kiss, not heated enough to fluster her in a public place, but just enough to show her how much I want her. She returns it with a soft smile upon her lips.

"Thanks for staying with me." I whisper into her.

"Heh.. you're just lucky there's no where else I'd rather be, Your Majesty." She whispers the last two words directly into my ear and I shudder, entwining her fingers into mine as I eagerly led her through the door, and back towards the Royal Chamber.

[moonlight-breeze-44]

Fic Writer Tag Game

I was tagged by the lovely @emma-arthur, thank you! <3

What is your name?

I use MoonlightBreeze and Em interchangably online, and either one works for me <3 Em is my real life nickname and what I prefer to go by in any situation.

What are your fandoms?

This is a short question with a long answer haha. My biggest fandoms are Shadowhunters, Supernatural, and Criminal Minds. I also dabble in Supergirl, Harry Potter, Detroit: Become Human, Dan & Phil, Hawaii Five-0, Hamilton, Nancy Drew, various RPF, and NCIS. 

Where do you post your fanfiction?

Archive of Our Own! I used to post on Fanfiction.net and Wattpad, too, but that was a long time ago, and I can’t in good conscience link those here haha.

Going by kudos, what is your most popular one-shot?

In The Past, which is one of my very first fics written for a prompt. It’s not one of my personal favourites, but I appreciate the kudos more than words can say <3

Going by kudos, what is your most popular multi-chapter?

I’m a mere mortal compared to those amazingly talented multi-chapter writers. I don’t have any multi-chapter fics currently, though I am planning on posting one soon!

What is your personal favourite story, out of your current content?

Learning To Be Human is an angst-filled fic in which I dove deeper into Alec’s psyche than I ever have before, and it’s my favourite thing I’ve written to this day. 

What work were you most nervous to post?

I think I was definitely the most nervous about posting Bad Day, my first Autistic Alec fic. I write Autistic Alec quite a lot now, and it’s one of my very favourite headcanons for him. But at the time I posted Bad Day, I didn’t have the wonderful friends that I have now, who encourage & support me in all of my endeavors, but especially Autistic Alec, and I was terrified to post something that was largely based off of my own experiences and detailed an autistic meltdown, which is something that’s often subject to ridicule by other people.

Is there a method to how you title your work?

As with most of the rest of my writing, there is no method at all. Sometimes the title comes to me immediately, sometimes I have to think about it for a bit, and sometimes I’m at such a loss that I leave the fic untitled until the very last minute. My titles can be anything from phrases, quotes, song lyrics, words in foreign languages, etc. 

Do you outline your works or just wing it?

I never really outline my works very much - usually, I just sit down, start writing, and see where the story takes me. I’ll typically jot down a short paragraph about my idea or the things I want to include at some point so I don’t forget them, but other than that, I’m a total pantser. 

Are you excited about any of your upcoming works?

Yes! I’m hoping to edit and post a multi-chapter prompt fill for one of my friends tonight, and after that, I’m working on two fics for a very special friend of mine plus whatever else I have to do. I have way too many WIPs, but all of them hold a special place in my heart. 

What are your AO3 statistics?

Total history:

User Subscriptions: 96

Kudos: 9577

Comment Threads: 432

Bookmarks: 1570

Subscriptions: 264

Word Count: 195649

Hits: 116063

2020 only:

Kudos: 9235

Comment Threads: 421

Bookmarks: 1527

Subscriptions: 256

Word Count: 181747

Hits: 111802

This was really fun to do!! It was a nice lookback on 2020 for me :) I will tag @sugarandspace, @eternallysilvermagnusandalec, @lightwormsiblings, @aceon-ice, and @brightasstars! <3

[ruthlesslistener]

Gimme PK for the character meme!

I had a whole thing written up here and Tumblr reloaded and fucking ate it. I want to die

Alright take two

How I feel about this character

-Used to hate his guts. Like, legit, I rarely ever feel super strongly about characters but seeing what he did the first time made me sick to my stomach. Now though? I love him. After some wiki and lore diving in the game, I began to piece together his story and how he felt about it, and I went from seeing him as a coldhearted, clinical, detatched power-hungry dickhead to someone who genuinely loved their kingdom and loathed what they had to do, but still ended up harming multitudes because their love for it festered into something obsessive and toxic. Now he’s one of my favorites, purely because he fits that niche of ‘if a great person who was driven to desperation does horrible things, does that make them a villain?’ aspect that I love so much when writing. Also, I can bully him as much as I like in writing without feeling bad, so that’s fun. He’s like a fantasy punching bag/philosophical question.

Also, he has draconic ties. I am a weak man. I see a draconic character, and I love them no matter how awful they are. I’m weak for those proud violent majestic ancient lizards okay

All the people I ship romantically with this character

-White Lady! Usually I steer clear of hetero pairings in media because they’re written awfully, but Hollow Knight’s few romantic pairs are all excellently well-written and feel balanced and reciprocate. I know some people think that she was forced to comply with him or hated the vessel plan, but that’s...really not the case? She still speaks fondly of him in the gardens, as if he was still alive and she was merely taking a short trip away from him. And her approach to the vessel plan seems to be ‘it’s regrettable and disturbing, but it has to be done’. Hell, if anything she carries it out more efficiently than he does, keeping herself distant from Ghost and talking about Hollow as if they were a part of a machine that simply stopped working. He’s the dreamer in the relationship, and she keeps him grounded (or rooted, hehe). 

Also, he canonically gave her a half of his soul when they were married to each other, which is cute as fuck. Nothing better than seeing a character who deeply loves his wife

My non-romantic OTP for this character

-I use Homestuck quadrants as a loose outline of how the god’s romance works, because I headcanon them to have a very different way of interacting and forming bonds than humans, so its a tossup between him and Lurien as morails and him and Herrah as kismeises. Proooobably I enjoy blackrom Herrah/Pale King though because she’s more than a match for him, doesn’t seem to trigger his desire to kill his opposition (compared to Radiance, another god), and already had a kid with him. If it wasn’t for the Dreamer plan I bet she could have hammered him out into a better person through their rivalry, which would be fucking awesome to read about (and then Hornet might have actually had parents who stuck around....). Grimm I kind of headcanoned him to have a hatecrush on until he learned what he was doing with the vessels, and then he just fuckin yote that crush out into pure hatred (because Grimm is social and a father and that is his sister who he’s going to starve to death, no matter how horrible she may be now she is still his sister...)

My unpopular opinion about this character

-He was kind. He loved deeply, honestly, faithfully. And it ruined him. Because like...I know some people think that he’s cold and efficient and cruel. But everything that he did for Hallownest points to the actions of someone who loved it and the bugs that resided within. He wanted to be among his citizens, so he died for them. It would have been much easier for him to rise to power if he just enthralled all the bugs under the Radiance’s power (once he destroyed her, ofc), but he granted them free will instead. Godseeker mentioned that him choosing to diminish himself was baffling, and though she is in no means a reliable narrator, I think about the connotations behind that a lot. Because for a being who feeds on worship, a being that is supposedly pure Mind and no heart, staying in that big wyrm form and enthralling the mortals would be the best course of action. But he chose to die instead, so that he may be with them. He chose to destroy his family so that they might live free from the mindlessness of the Radiance’s rule. He loved the Hollow Knight, his supposed mindless sacrificial lamb, enough to gift them the ability to see the world from their sealing and to build them a memorial statue (no small thing for a god, though condescending for a mortal- remember that gods true-die when they are forgotten, and a big honking statue about their sacrifice for the good of the kingdom is a sure way to gather awe and worship). And when Hallownest fell and he sealed himself away in dreams to die- the same as what he did to the Radiance, mind you- we can literally see the guilt and shame in the ruins of the White Palace. It’s his glorious palace, hidden in a mess of spikes and blades. His most heavily-guarded memory is a moment with him and Hollow- one that must be viewed by enduring the harshest punishment. The hidden rooms in the palace are all the things that were deeply close to his heart and saw as secret and shameful; his workshop with the void constructs, a tablet speaking a prophecy of Hallownest lasting forever, an empty cradle tucked directly below his throne. And then he himself, dead or dying on his throne, not a great glorious god but a neglectful mess. That all points to someone who lost everything they cared about and couldn’t handle all the horrible things they had to do to keep it safe, someone who never learned how to healthily handle their emotions and ended up hurting everyone around them in the process.

And that, in my opinion, is much scarier than your boring cardboard cutout villain model. Because the people who hurt you the most aren’t going to be calculating, cruel bastards all the time, they’re people who are kind and lovely and will do whatever it takes to keep their beloved safe, even at the cost of their own life and the lives of everyone around them. Much more interesting to handle, too. There is nothing that puts me off a fic faster than cold detatched asshole Pale King bc like...he did care. Of course he cared. That’s why he killed everybody

(Also he was a conflict-avoidant bastard but I’m not getting into that rn)

One thing I wish would happen / had happened with this character in canon.

-MORE FLASHBACKS WHERE HE’S ACTUALLY ALIVE!!! MORE FLASHBACKS WHERE HE’S WITH HOLLOW OR THE DREAMERS OR HORNET!!! I want to see how he interacted with others so I’m not just piecing his personality together from his sad lore tablets and Lemm. I’m hoping we get some flashbacks with him in Silksong, since he has the potential to be a pretty...interesting influence on Hornet’s life, seeing how she looks so much like him, but that’s a pretty wild thing to look for. I also wish we saw him as he was when he was a full wyrm, too, bc goddamn I wanna know more about these big scary god-noodles. His corpse was mostly buried back in Kingdom’s Edge, with only the ‘teeth’ really sticking out, and I’m not sure how much faith I have in the coliseum being another wyrm like the Blackwyrm. If Bardoon says they’re much bigger than him, then I def. wanna see a full-grown, alive, full-sized one in canon at some point

Send me a character and I’ll break their ass down