#but I am using some of my own experiences to flesh her out. That's all I'm trying to do | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

fernandopiastri28 · 9 months ago

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high for this ~ oscar piastri

Notes:

i am officially finished with holidays and back to school :/ so im going to be posting a lot less but i do have a few works just rotting in my drafts so i'll probably just be changing the names of characters and posting them. (not proof read so i apologise if there's any mistakes)

warnings: smut, weed, drug use, mdni

Oscar mindlessly lays sprawled out on his bed, his muscles aching from the gym earlier in the day. He tenderly rubs his hamstring, trying to nurse it back to not being too sore for his match tomorrow.

He has some music playing as quietly as possible, a pulsing tune of some heavy rap. It’s not really to his taste, but he’s bored with his own playlists at the moment. His phone is near the foot of his outstretched left leg, while his right leg is tucked up towards his torso, his knee pointing high towards the ceiling. Both hands are hard at work around his right leg, his fingers pressing into the tough flesh.

He feels a buzz travel through his left foot as his nails dig into his skin. He makes a note to cut them. He hears the buzz too, this time over the sound of the music. He sits up awkwardly, wincing at the strain on his leg. Using his left hand, he picks up his phone and checks the two new messages he’s received.

It’s Talia, unsurprisingly. She should be asleep, though, she promised him she’d start working on fixing her sleep schedule. He clicks the notifications, squinting to see the messages with the medical white lights flashing in his eyes in comparison to the darkened room.

tals🧡: you up?

tals🧡: do u wanna come over

Oscar shifts around in his bed so his back is pressed against a stack of pillows. He brings his hand away from his hamstring, ignoring the dull shoot of pain that runs up his leg once it loses his attention.

They don’t do a lot of sneaking over to each other's houses, simply because they can see enough of one another during school days, so it isn’t anything essential. They get in all the kissing, cuddling, and make outs they want to during the day, so if she’s suggesting this, it means sex.

Not necessarily just sex, anything within the umbrella of sexual activity. Oscar shifts his hips, trying to decide what he wants to do. They live pretty far from each other, meaning for him to sneak over, it's a 25-minute walk each way since he can’t just take the family car. It’s late—nearing midnight—and he’s sore. On the other hand, he’s horny.

And at Talia’s house, she doesn’t live with her parents. She lives with two of her close friends, skipped out on the college experience after her first year. Oscar didn’t get that luxury, much like his older sisters. Both of them lived at home for uni. But while she’s off now in France, he’s still a third year university student. Since her family won’t even be there, they don’t have to worry about being sneaky or quiet.

Oscar: Yeah. See you soon

He unplugs his phone and slips his feet into the pair of slides that are sitting at the foot of his bed. He opens his wardrobe, grazing his fingers over the line up of shirts that rest there. He grabs a graphic white t-shirt, wrestling it on. He cracks open his door, walking past his sister’s and the guest room, both vacant. His parents are on the level upstairs, so they can’t hear any disturbance he’s making.

He settles for catching the bus instead, unwilling to walk up to an hour. He sits down in a row of empty seats, ducking his head down and popping an earbud in. There’s a scarce number of other people on the bus, two girls sitting close together, their heads spinning drunkenly. An old man, greying hair and a newspaper in his callused hands.

tals🧡: come thru window. sammy will bark otherwise.

Oscar replies with the hard thought out reply of a thumbs up before re-pocketing his phone, staring mindlessly out of the window at the dark surroundings that whip by.

Oscar gets off at his stop 10 minutes later, and he’s the last person on the bus by that point. He approaches Talia’s house, not even bothering to go through the front door- Sammy would bark and wake the whole house up. He clicks open the gate, dragging it out only just enough to slip in. He walks across the side of the house, tapping on her bedroom window once he gets to it. He presses a hand to his pocket, making sure the pack of condoms he grabbed are still there.

The curtains swish open and Talia’s standing there, fiddling to get the window open. Once it's open, he feels a rush of cold air hitting him, accompanied by the smell of something almost like diesel. “Hey,” He grins as she leans down.

She narrowly avoids the kiss he’s going for, giving him one on the corner of his mouth. “Sorry- god, it’s dark,” Her shadow rubs her eyes, reaching out a hand to help him in.

Climbing in through the window isn’t a difficult task- just slightly uncomfortable. His crotch rubs against the window pane as he brings his second leg over into her room. Talia wraps her arms around his waist as soon as he’s inside. “Hi, Oscccc,” She looks up at him, her teeth gleaming white.

Just as Oscar is about to reply, the petrol smell hits him even harder. He crinkles his nose, confused as to what it is. “Tals, what the hell have you been smoking in here?,” He laughs, his hands grabbing at her ass to get her to wrap her legs around his waist. His voice is thick with sarcasm, Talia is the furthest thing from a druggy possible.

“Weed,” She rubs her lips into his shoulder, mouthing at the fabric of her shirt. Her mouth is dry, barely wetting the cloth. Oscar’s eyebrows knit, tensing in confusion. “Got a joint, was bored,” She mumbles.

He doesn’t believe what he’s hearing. At the same time, it’s late- his mind is cloudy anyways. He looks past her, at her bed where there’s a metal tin and a joint laying on top of it. Explains the smell then. “Fuck Talia,” He lets out a deep breath, “Maddie and Amber can definitely smell it,” He groans.

Talia laughs, her voice thick and loopy. “Nah, they cleared out tonight so I could do this.” She pulls away from the embrace, tugging him after her by his shirt. She falls back against the bed, her eyes clearly red rimmed from the dim lighting over her bed. “Cmonnn Opie, wanna get stoned with you,”

It’s so strange to see her like this, but he’d be lying if he said it wasn’t hot. It’s so unexpected, such a pleasant surprise from his usually wound up and rule following girlfriend. Oscar’s resistance weakens, the sight of her laying there- a goofy grin plastered across her voice is enough to make the strong man give in.

He hovers over her on the bed, a knee on either side of her hips and a hand on either side of her head. “You’re insane,” His mouth meets red, puffy lips for a kiss. She’s hungry for it, bringing her hands up to his hair to tug him down.

“More,” Talia begs, her voice breathy. Her pupils are huge and there's a spacey look in her eyes. Oscar teases her, shaking his head as he slightly resists kissing her any further than little pecks.

“I want a drag,” He whispers, reaching over her to where the blunt is precariously resting. He places it in between his lips, the bitter taste already seeping into his mouth. “Light it up,” He murmurs around the lump in his mouth.

Her mouth and ears feel as if they’ve been packed with cotton, his voice is far away and just barely a noise. “You don’t know how to,” She giggles weakly, her fingers pinching the fabric of his shirt that hangs down onto her.

Oscar gets off of her, sitting against the head of her bed. His legs are spread, his body slumped down comfortably. “Teach me,” He pats the space in front of his lap, his eyes looking up through his lashes. Talia’s mind is foggy with weed, lust, and need. She’s willing to do anything.

“Take this,” she pushes a plastic water bottle into one of his hands, already unscrewed and partially drunk. “You’re gonna cough a lot- the water will help with that,” she explains, leaning forward with her hands propped up on his quads, pushing the hem of his shorts higher up.

She reaches over to where the bottle had been and her fingers feel numb as they wrap around the lighter. “You feel good?” She asks as he twists the joint around between his lips. He doesn’t quite know how to answer, it feels like a question for after he’s actually smoked it. He nods regardless, tensing his leg muscles under her hands.

“I’m gonna light it, okay?” Another question from her. Her voice is becoming harder to understand, the true effects of the weed settling into her. It’s bizarre to him, this whole situation. “And you just try to inhale as much as possible,” She waits for a nod of competency from him before continuing. “Don’t let it just rest in your throat- it’ll burn. If you can’t do a lot, just do it in small bits,”

Oscar’s hand snakes behind her, resting on the small of her back. “Ready,” He mumbles awkwardly. She clicks down on the lighter and a flame flickers, wavering just below his nose.

“Don’t stress it,” She can see how his eyebrows are still furrowed and his nails are digging into the fabric of her shirt. It’s almost euphoric at first, then it’s hell. Heat fills his mouth and he’s coughing and wheezing. He did exhale- probably too much.

He feels Talia’s hands all over him, her coldness contrasting against the warmth throbbing through himself. She takes the spliff from his mouth, sucking down on it herself. Oscar watches her hazily, his bottom lip tucked under teeth.

“How long have you been doin’ this?” The words feel as if they’re not coming from him. Jesus, surely he’s not baked already. He feels the heavy weight of the joint being pushed between his lips again, his question seemingly going unanswered.

He takes it, breathing it in again. He doesn’t let it rest in his throat, he focuses on the inhale. He doesn’t cough as much this time, but he still guzzles down what’s left in the bottle.

They spend a few minutes alternating the spliff, blowing air into eachothers faces. The room reeks of weed and it’s boiling hot. He wipes the back of his neck with his hand, a line of sweat gathering there. She twists the hem of his shirt between her index and thumb, pulling it up slightly. She doesn’t need to ask- he takes it off for her.

“I started when I first moved here,” She finally answers his question from earlier, dragging a thumb down his cheek, rubbing the back of his jawline. “I think one of Mads’ friends gave her a bunch because she was moving- couldn’t take ‘em. Us three smoked them one night, it was fun,” She mumbles. It means she’s only been doing it for about 3 years now.

He tilts his head, resting it against a pillow. She presses the pad of her thumb into his bottom lip that he’s unconsciously pouting out- asking for either another drag or a kiss. “Wanted to introduce you,” Her lips turn into a smirk, her eyes half-lidded.

“And why’s that?” He teases, his other hand moving down to her ass. Talia looks to the side behind him, a knowing look on her face. She pulls herself into his lap, effectively straddling him.

“I wanted to get high,” She states plainly, “and when I’m high- I’m horny. Wanted to be like that with you,” Her eyes are bright and her cheeky are rosy. Oscar kisses her cheek, experimenting with how his mouth is getting drier and more uncomfortable. Once he feels some moisture returning, he kisses further along her jaw.

She has the spliff in her mouth which forces him away from her mouth. He focuses on her jaw and neck, suckling near her collarbone. She moans, tugging his hair and effectively his head back up. She places the joint in his mouth again and pulls on the pillow behind him. He tilts his head enough for her to move it out of the way, leaving him laying down almost completely flat.

He watches dazily as she pulls her top off, leaving her in a lacy white bra. He reaches out, his fingers barely feeling her flesh. He knows he’s touching her, she’s making noises to confirm it. “ More , more , fuck ,” She’s begging, her voice so desperate. Oscar wishes he wasn’t so fucking spacey right now so he could see how wanton she was over him.

He tips his head forward, looking past where smoke is burning into his eyes. He’s apparently not just touching her bra, he’s touching her fully exposed breast. He hasn’t realised up until this point that he’s actually hard.

“Can I shotgun you?” She asks, her fingers snaking over his nipples. He whimpers at the touch and his mouth drops open around the blunt. He knows he’s out of it, but he’s consciously thinking enough to know that shotgunning is either claiming the front seat in a car, or piercing a beer can and then drinking it as fast as possible.

He settles with the assumption it must be the second one. He lols his head to the side, searching for where the beer is. “Yeah,” He hums, his hand dropping down over the edge of the bed and his hand swinging with the intention of hitting a can that isn’t actually there.

Talia laughs, tugging on his bicep. “Shotgun- I puff smoke into your mouth,” She explains, her voice all raspy from being so dry. Oscar licks over his teeth, his mouth still painfully dry. His mind feels empty, the only resounding thought is just talia, talia, talia. There are a few other ideas, sex stuff, nothing coming close to being as important as making her happy.

She leans forward, plucking the joint from his mouth. He gets a breath of fresh air and begins to gasp for it- a telltale sign he’s had too much in one go. He hollows his cheeks, cleaning the taste of smoke out of his mouth with spit. It’s a useless attempt as it’s already well stained.

She slides two fingers into his mouth, pressing down on his bottom teeth. She lays down on him, her legs still hooked around his hips and a hand pressing to the headboard above him. Their chests are pressing together, her boobs heavy on him. He stares at them, shamelessly, his cock getting even harder to the point he’s beginning to actually feel it.

“Can you suck my cock?” His voice is strangled and on the verge of incoherency because of her digits pressing into his tongue. She nods, kissing the tip of his nose. Her other hand is still holding onto the spliff, just sliding it against her wettened bottom lip. She finally sucks down on it, her lips twisting around it to keep the smoke in.

His mouth opens out of instinct, his eyes going bright just thinking about her mouth. The second their lips meet and he feels a slow release of smoke into his mouth, he feels like he’s dying. His eyes roll back and he grips a hand to the back of her head, pushing their mouths into each other’s harder.

He’s kissing her like it’s the only thing keeping him alive. It’s disgustingly dirty, a combination of spit, teeth, tongues and far too much moaning. Being stoned apparently just makes him feel everything . His lips are on fire, his throat is on fire, his eyes are on fire, his dick is on fire.

Their mouths pull apart, sticky from the remnants of lip gloss that Talia has on. He peppers her face with a few more kisses, desperate for the stinging burn. They look at each other for a few moments, a complete disconnect from the two of them and the rest of the world.

“You still want it?” She’s semi sitting up now, her elbows resting on where his hips are poking out from his low sitting shorts. His mind goes blank at the question, unsure of what she could possibly asking.

“What?” He lets out a puff of air, his hand mindlessly travelling through her hair. She nudges low down on his abdomen with her nose, making a weird squeaking whine.

“Suck you off,” She looks up at him, the green in her eyes barely just a thin ring around her blown up pupils. Oscar nods, shifting further down the bed. Her fingers hook into his waistband, an invitation. His eyes flicker shut, already wasted off the feeling of her hands tugging his shorts down.

Cold air whacks into the tops of his thighs, the dark fluffs of hair standing up. Oscar doesn’t need to tell her what to do, it seems like every time she’s gotten baked before this has been spent with her preparing for this.

Talia begins aimlessly mouthing at his crotch, licking and kissing over where the head is resting. Her mouth is wetter than his, seemingly soaked with saliva. He takes a drag from the blunt, his fingers retracting and stretching to scratch her head. She purrs at the motion, getting more eager around him.

“Cmon princess,” Oscar murmurs, helping to slide his boxers down to mid thigh. He doesn’t wince or shiver when it meets the cold air as there’s barely any time for it to do so. The second he’s fully undressed, her warm mouth is engulfing his length.

She bobs her head up and down, her lips tightening around his shaft and her cheeks hollowing for him. He’s pushing her head down without realising, the pressure is light but definitely suggestive.

She doesn’t gag, just takes him further. He encourages her with a string of moans mindlessly escaping his mouth, mixed in with ‘ oh god, good girl’ and ‘that's perfect, princess, keep going’. He’ll smoke or eat edibles every weekend if this is how getting head feels like when he does.

Her nose presses into his crotch, her throat muscles working hard to accommodate the intrusion of him. He tries to touch her, help her get off while she’s giving him the blowjob he’s ever received but the way she’s lying with the rest of her body so far away, he settles for focusing the pleasure elsewhere.

He rubs his thumbs over her nipples, feeling them harden under his touch. She whimpers and whines, her moans choking into noises that sound like she’s crying. Her face is reddened and her hair is sweaty, her fringe plastered down to her forehead with sweat.

“Close, I’m close,” He twists some of her hair around his index, his middle finger tapping into the top of her hair. She looks up at him with glassy eyes and tensed eyebrows.

“In me,” She gags around his length. She doesn’t need to ask twice. He fucks his hips up into her mouth, forcing a moan and a gag from the back of her throat as he releases into her.

He feels spent, his body aching worse than it did back at home.

She pulls off slowly, her lips oiled with spit and cum. Her neck muscles flicker with tension as she swallows it down. That’s new. She’s strictly been a ‘spitter’ to this very moment. He wipes a drop of cum off her lip and kisses her deep. He tastes himself in her mouth but there's hardly any recognition for it. He doesn’t care enough to be disgusted about it, nothing about kissing her is disgusting.

“You’re perfect,” He slips his tongue into her mouth, tugging her up to be laying on top of him. “Wanna make you feel good,” He moves his head, kissing down her neck.

Talia lets out a noise of confirmation, “please,” she whines burying her fingers against his scalp. From the awkward angle he’s at, he slips her pants down past her ass, her underwear at the same time.

He rubs a finger over her wet hole, teasing it. She lets out a stifled whimper, burying her face further into Oscar’s chest. He slides the finger in slowly, watching the bits of her face that he can see intently. She’s shying away, forcing her face away from his view.

“You’re all shy now?” He teases, massaging one of her breasts with his palm. She doesn’t reply, just keens on him, desperate for more. He pushes his finger fully in, sliding it in and out. “Look at me, pretty,” He kisses her forehead, nudging the spot with his nose.

She reluctantly looks up before snuggling into his neck. It’s a drastic difference from how she was only minutes earlier. He pushes a second finger in, knowing her all too well that she’s needy for it. She groans, scraping her teeth down along his shoulder.

He groans, throwing his head back. He knows what he’s doing, not needing to even look. He pushes in and out, deeper and just as controlled. Her walls tighten around him, her wetness slicking down over his palm and around his wrist. His thumb joins in, rubbing along her clit.

“Oz,” it comes out all jagged and breathy. “Fuck- need to,” She can’t finish her sentences at this point, pushed so close to the edge. He gives her a whisper of allowance, his breath hot against her ear.

“Come for me,” He instructs her, his thumb applying more pressure as he feels a gush of wetness spill down his occupied hand. She’s gasping, panting for air when it happens. His body is still trying to regain full senses from the weed, barely noticing how deep her nails are digging into his sides, leaving red crescent moons into his skin.

Once she’s come down from her high, Talia rolls onto the space next to him on the bed. They watch each other, laying on their sides as they share the joint. They puff smoke at each other, laughing over absolutely nothing.

“You’re staying tonight?” Whether it's a statement or a question is unsure, just how she intended. Oscar cranes his head to where he can see the sun is peeking out and beginning to set.

“Yeah, I’ll stay right here,” He hums as the two of them both nod off to a hazy, stoned induced sleep.

#formula 1 #formula one #f1 #f1 x reader #oscar piastri #oscar piastri smut #oscar piastri x original character

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makeyoumine69 · 5 months ago

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Flesh n' Bones | Hospital AU (INTRO)

PAIRING: Doctor!Patrick Bateman x gn!Nurse!Reader

SUMMARY: My name is Patrick Bateman. I'm 27 years old. I live in the American Gardens building on West 81st Street in New York City. I work as a surgeon at St. Pierce's Hospital—one of the most upscale medical centers in Manhattan—which happens to be owned by my father. And even though I hate my job, sometimes I can find a little bit of fun in making the experience of my patients in the hospital really unforgettable. Not to mention the dozens of missing nurses who definitely regretted crossing the threshold of St. Pierce's Hospital, but who cares—I was the best thing that ever happened to them.

CONTAINS: Swearing, medical procedures, evil plans, gaslighting, pain, blood and injury, interns & internships, power dynamics, flirting, perversion, pet names, Patrick Bateman's POV.

WORDS: 2.4k

A/N: Hello my dears! This story is based on Hospital AU by @peepoo79! Since the first day I saw her Hospital AU comic I was obsessed with this idea so I decided to write it! Since I am not a doctor myself, some things might not be that accurate to medical standards, but I am always open to critique. As always, I hope you enjoy it! Also, many thanks to @mothhmannn for the amazing Patrick art!

LINKS: [MASTERLIST]; [AO3].

October 28, 1987.

Today started so shitty that I didn't even want to go to work, but how could I? I was a fucking surgeon who was supposed to save lives, and when I finally arrived at St. Pierce's Hospital, several nurses crowded around me and started bitching about some shitty stuff I didn't even care about.

"Dr. Bateman, your intern has arrived and is waiting for you in your office," one of the nurses said, handing me a folder of papers. "They seem to be very shy, so please treat them right."

Scowling, I took the papers and nodded. "Uh…Thank you."

Without further ado, I walked past another nurse and down the long corridors, avoiding all of my coworkers as I tried to concentrate on the music blaring from my Walkman headphones. Stopping at the door to my office, I made sure my hair was neatly slicked back before opening the door and stepping inside to see a beautiful person sitting in the chair. The blue medical uniform fit them so well that I even wanted to compliment them, but I stopped myself and just offered them a handshake instead.

"Well, hello there, my name is Dr. Bateman," I smiled and continued to examine my new plaything. "It's...uh...nice to see some young blood in our hospital these days."

You were embarrassed so quickly, probably from such a warm welcome, which was more of an exception for me than a regular thing.

"Thank you, Dr. Bateman...it's an honor to be your intern," you replied politely, trying to hide your nervousness as your hands visibly shook. "This hospital is so...amazing! Literally everything I have seen so far is amazing...including this office!"

The office did look luxurious. Everything screamed wealth and prestige, including the wooden desk and a high-end clock on it, the way you looked at the white leather couch in the corner of the room probably sent shivers down your spine, and somehow I really hoped it did.

"So...when can we start?" You asked as you watched me flip through your portfolio, my face stoic, blank, and absolutely unreadable.

As I stopped flipping through the documents and frowned to add some tension between us, I looked at you stealthily out of the corners of my eyes, and when I saw you chewing on your lower lip, I smiled in wicked satisfaction, but that smile never reached my eyes.

"It's very inspiring that you're so eager to get started," I said, placing several pages on the desk, then picking up my Montblanc pen to make some notes. "I see you've been studying pretty well...considering your grades."

Another shy chuckle fell from your lips at my words. "Oh, I did my best," you replied, settling more comfortably in your chair. "Although I didn't really want to reflect on my college years."

"Why?" I asked, writing down all the personal information I could get from your file, including your address, phone number, blood type...

"It was..." your voice wavered and you paused, causing me to look up at you again. "...hard as hell."

"As it should be. Our jobs require hard work as we carry a huge responsibility on our shoulders," I grinned, closing the folder before I could see the name of the college. "So where did you study exactly?"

Just as you were about to answer, a loud knock on the door rang through the office and I couldn't help but grumble in anger.

Can I have a break, for fuck's sake!

"Come in," I almost barked, my attention shifting away from you as I saw a nurse - one of the hottest hardbodies in our hospital - walk in. "Courtney? What happened?"

"Dr. Bateman..." She walked over to my desk, completely ignoring your presence.

"Yes, Courtney?" My patience was about to explode if she didn't answer right away.

"I know you told us not to bother you with non-emergent cases, but other surgeons are busy," she stammered as our gazes met, her blue eyes seeming to brighten even more. "We have a girl whose hand is so full of broken glass, can you please examine her?"

I sighed before glancing quickly at you, a little impressed that you still hadn't said a word. "Does she have insurance? How old is she?"

"Uh," Courtney hiccuped, looking at the patient's medical card. "I checked her insurance, it's valid and... she's nineteen."

"Nineteen?" I replied, suddenly feeling excited. "Well, I think this can be a good start for your internship. What do you think?"

Courtney seemed to finally notice that we were not alone, her plump lips pursed back into a thin line, and I really wanted to laugh at her reaction, but I told myself to stay professional.

"I'm ready when you are, Dr. Bateman," your suddenly confident voice sounded so challenging that it struck a chord in my chest and brought back a long forgotten feeling of thrill. "I'm sure we'd make a great team under your guidance."

How sweet.

I managed to hold back puke at such a silly, saccharine statement. It reminded me of the cliché every doctor used whenever someone asked them why they chose to work in a hospital.

'Oh, we want to save people's lives! And we're not doing it because doctors have almost the highest salaries in the country!'

I grinned insistently, reveling in my own sense of superiority. "All right then," I stood up and put on my doctor's coat over my custom-made scrubs with my initials on them. "Courtney, give the medical card to the intern."

The woman froze in shock. "But...but I thought I would assist you..."

I rolled my eyes as I checked myself in the mirror, adjusting the collar of my scrubs and pulling up the sleeves a bit to reveal my Rolex. "I think I made it very clear that your help won't be needed this time.”

If we were alone, I would probably just boff her before doing my work and that would help me get rid of her until the next time, but hell no, now I had a pain in the ass. And why should I have to teach an intern when I didn't even ask for one?

Meanwhile, you were waiting for me at the door, holding a medical card to your chest as if Courtney or I were about to snatch it from your hands. After I was completely satisfied with my appearance, I pinned my ID badge to my chest and walked to the door, trying not to stare too much at Courtney's ass while she was doing something at my desk that I never really bothered to know.

"You know what," I stopped suddenly before leaving. "Wait for me here," the blonde nurse turned to look at me, still bent over the table. "We'll discuss your new assignment."

A few minutes later, we finally entered the Surgery Division, and since you were a newbie here, I had to guide you all the way, telling you some things from time to time, and at some point I realized that I didn't really hate it, because I could blather on about being a super professional surgeon, and this whole place being mine.

Just like the whole hospital.

"I think this is our ward," I muttered and opened the door to let you in. " C'mon, don't be shy." I pushed you forward a bit before closing the door behind you.

The patient—a young red-haired girl with big green eyes whose tight top stuck to her chest so that her nipples poked out—looked at us the moment we entered the ward.

"Oh, finally," she mumbled in sheer annoyance, her right hand covered in blood-stained bandages. "I was beginning to think everyone had forgotten about me."

Still nervous, you cleared your throat and quickly looked down at the medical card. "Sorry for the long wait, Miss...Miss Ray," you managed to smile, even though you looked like a patient who was afraid to get treatment, but not her, "My name is (y/n) and this is Dr. Bateman, he's one of the best surgeons in this hospital."

One of the best?

Your slightly incorrect comment made me furrow my brow, but in the next second I was smiling seductively at the girl whose scrutinizing look I couldn't miss. She was pretty attractive, hell, just the fact that she wasn't wearing a bra made her attractive.

With practiced ease, I put on medical gloves after washing my hands very meticulously. Then I glanced at the patient's medical card, not taking it in my hands, but letting you hold it for me.

"Can I take a look?" I finally asked, taking a seat next to the examination table and putting the mask on. Carefully I began to unfold the bandages, the little whimpering the girl made gave me undeniable pleasure. "Well, that doesn't look too bad," I said when I could finally see the wound, and several pieces of glass had sunk quite deep into her flesh. "How did you manage that?"

The girl blushed as I began to examine her forearm, moving higher up to her shoulder, though it wasn't really necessary. I just loved how soft her skin was, as much as I could tell by feeling it through the elastic material of my gloves.

"I...I accidentally broke the mirror." She replied, her breathing uneven and her pulse quickening as I took a moment to check her. "My name is Liza, by the way."

I chuckled charmingly before turning to look at you, as you stood behind my back, watching my work very intently. "Can you bring me forceps? And...a scalpel?"

"Scalpel?" You replied a little confused.

"Yes," I confirmed and repositioned Liza's arm for better access. "And I'll also need a suture kit."

The girl tensed at my words that I would need a scalpel. "Is it...necessary?"

"Hmm?" I hummed, asking her a silent question while you busied yourself with preparing the instruments.

"A scalpel...are you going to make an incision?" Liza asked, giving me a pleading glare, her fear was palpable in the air and I couldn't help but savor it.

"I just want all the instruments to be close by in case I have a need for them, that's all. Now please relax." I murmured this with fake sympathy before resuming the examination, pressing down on one of the shards and making Liza whimper. "Shh, it's okay."

The redhead frowned in pain. "It hurts...doctor...it hurts so much!"

When I heard you return, I removed my fingers from the wound. "All right, no nerve damage and that's good." I smiled, obviously lying, my hand was already extended, ready to take the forceps.

"Your forceps, doctor," the way you said 'doctor' made my eyes glow with a mischievous spark. "Clean and sterilized, just like the scalpel and suture kit."

"Very well," I replied, feeling a chill in the metal in my hand. "Put them here," I tapped the spot on the examination table, wondering how you would do that. "And where's your mask?"

Confused, you stuttered. "Oh...yeah...sorry," you mumbled in embarrassment before putting on a mask. "I'm still a little nervous."

Liza knitted her eyebrows in a skeptical way that almost made me burst out laughing.

Okay, now I'm really starting to like this.

"Don't worry, my pill fairy," I watched you place a metal tray with instruments on the spot I showed you. "It's your first day in the hospital...it's...always a little nerve wracking."

As soon as I said it, you stopped in your tracks, and even though your face was covered by the mask, I was pretty sure you were so damn embarrassed that I was going to burn my finger off your cheek. You didn't make any comments though, which made me a little frustrated, but I didn't show it, I took the forceps more comfortably in my hand and began to remove the broken glass from Liza's shaky arm. The way I used the instruments was always mesmerizing - a work of art - as some nurses said, including Courtney, but today I was trying my best because I wanted to impress you. Shard by shard, I took them all out without causing any pain, something I usually couldn't find anything to be proud of.

"Done," I muttered, throwing the last piece of glass into the steel bow. "You took it so bravely."

The redhead smiled tiredly, trying not to look down at her hand. "Thank you, Doctor."

"You're welcome, sweetheart," I allowed you to clean the wound with the antiseptic and dab it with a swab. "It's my job, after all. Now, (y/n), can you please show me how you were taught to make stitches?"

"Of course, Dr. Bateman," you replied without hesitation, and this kind of obedience seemed to become my personal drug.

Standing up, I took a moment to admire how your uniform accentuated all of your curves, especially the roundness of your ass and the arch of your hips.

Shit, maybe I shouldn't have let Courtney stay in my office?

With these thoughts I leaned against the white wall and took off my mask as I suddenly felt a strong urge to smoke, luckily I still had the box of cigars my father had brought me from Cuba. I imagined inhaling the sharp scent of snuff when Liza's sudden whimper pulled me out of my trance.

"Can I have an anesthetic?" She asked, squirming in her place as she watched you prepare a suture kit.

"Just a local one," I muttered, a bit annoyed. "That will be enough. (Y/n), what should you do before using anesthesia?"

My question made you freeze. "Ask the patient about any allergies?"

"Right, but in this case you can find all the information on the medical card," I took off the gloves and took the card in my hands. "Well, I don't see anything that would prevent us from using bupivacaine."

As Liza sighed with relief and I watched you take a syringe, I had to admit that I was amazed at how carefully and attentively you worked.

Maybe you're not gonna get kicked out of the hospital as fast as I thought.

P.S. Thank you for reading until the end! I don’t have a taglist. You can follow my side blog @makeyoumineagain and turn on notifications to know when I update!

#american psycho #patrick bateman x reader #patrick bateman imagine #patrick bateman #patrick bateman x female reader #patrick bateman x you #slasher x reader #slashers x reader #slasher x you #slasher smut #patrick bateman smut #patrick bateman headcanon #christian bale smut #christian bale x reader #patrick bateman reader #christian bale #patrick bateman imagines #patrick bateman x male reader

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gravehags · 6 months ago

Text

the fabric of your flesh

Pairing: Cardinal Copia x f!Reader (Curator!Reader), Cirrus x f!Reader x Cumulus

Rating: EXPLICIT, MDNI

Tags: oh god where to begin, threesome, oral (m receiving), oral (f receiving), making out, serious relationship conversations, consensual infidelity, titty sucking, QUINT STRAP, masturbation, voyeurism, copia in the cuck chair, copia getting his balls slapped for being a little shit

Words: 7,300

Summary: You've always liked the ghoulettes. Maybe a little too much for your own good.

a/n: this fic takes place sometime after the events of sweet treat, a short little fic i wrote which sets the stage for the events of this piece. this is the longest single thing i've ever written so you know. enjoy lmao.

~~~

“Cardinal, what are your thoughts on sharing?”

Copia sets down the document he was reviewing and leans back in his chair, looking up at the ghoulette looming over his desk.

“It’s eh, a nice concept,” he says slowly, eyes flicking from Cirrus’ face to Cumulus seated behind her. “Is there something you…have in mind?”

“Your girl,” Cirrus says bluntly, and Cumulus yanks her backwards to sit in the chair next to her and give her a stern look. Copia’s eyebrows raise and he reaches up to stroke his mustache.

“What Cirrus was trying to say,” Cumulus begins, giving Cirrus another sideways glance, “is that we noticed there’s some um. Tension. Amongst us. And it’s not romantic,” she says in a rush, raising her hands placatingly when Copia opens his mouth, “we have no designs on her heart. That thoroughly belongs to you. What we mean is ah…more physical.”

A silence falls in the office as Copia watches his ghoulettes carefully while trying to fight back a smile.

“I see,” he says solemnly, leaning forward to steeple his hands, “have you discussed this with her?”

“We didn’t want to uh, step on any toes. So no. Not yet, anyway.”

He lets the silence simmer for a moment, watching Cirrus look around the room and Cumulus anxiously rub her hands. When he begins to laugh it makes both of them jump in their seats.

“Ladies,” he chuckles, “as if I haven’t seen your hungry eyes on her at every turn. I am very glad that you asked me for permission but the person you really need to speak to is her.”

A beat passes.

“So…is that a yes?” Cirrus asks, leaning forward.

“From me, sì. Under one condition, naturalmente.”

The ghoulettes look to one another.

“I get to watch.”

Cirrus snickers and Cumulus smiles.

“Oh that was a given, of course. But…you’re open to it?”

He smiles fondly at them.

“Sì, sì, I think it’s only fair to let her experience being with a woman or, eh. Women. Since she came to me untouched.”

“She what?!”

Once again he has to smother his laughter and instead looks at their gobsmacked faces kindly.

“Oh yes, you didn’t know? Despite her inexperience, however, she’s always been rather eh, voracious. And well…she’s not so inexperienced now I suppose, heh.” His eyes briefly unfocus as his mind conjures images of you in a litany of positions, eagerly and loudly taking him deep inside your–

Cumulus clears her throat politely.

“W-what…what were we talking about?”

“Your mate and her considerable sexual appetite,” Cirrus says wryly. Copia flushes deeply and fusses with his cassock, ignoring the bulge in his lap currently being hidden from view by his desk.

“Eh, right, right. Well as I said, this is ultimately her decision so uh, by all means. I think she’s working in the archives today.”

The ghoulettes stand and Cirrus gives him a slight bow before they turn to leave.

“Best of luck, my ghoulettes,” he calls to them as they walk out, surreptitiously adjusting himself. When the door shuts behind him he sags against the back of his chair.

This is going to prove interesting.

—

“Knock knock.”

You turn to look at the door and see two figures slip into the room - Copia’s ghoulettes, Cumulus and Cirrus. Your face splits in a smile - and your cheeks flush - as you wave the two in.

“Come on in, I’m just going through some of these old purchasing records for the collection. I–sorry, neither of you want to hear about this,” you say sheepishly, tucking your hair behind your ear.

Cirrus hops up to sit on one of the research tables while Cumulus leans on it next to her.

“We’d love to hear about it,” Cumulus murmurs.

You laugh. “You’re both very kind but not even Copia can listen to me talk about this kind of thing without nodding off no matter how hard he tries. I won’t subject you to it. How can I help you, though? Surely you didn’t come down here just to see me.”

“And if we did?” Cirrus purrs, leaning forward and putting her palms on her knees. Cumulus shoots her a sideways glance, lips tugging downwards in a slight frown.

There they are. Those butterflies ricocheting off the inside of your stomach every time you have an encounter with the two of them. The butterflies that make you sick if you allow yourself to linger on them. The butterflies that whisper accusations of infidelity in your ear.

“T-Then I’m sorry to disappoint you, ladies, for not being a more entertaining host.”

“Actually,” Cumulus says, her voice soft, “we wanted to talk to you about something.”

“Oh?” you’ve abandoned the stack of record books to fidget with your hands.

“Something um, personal.”

Cirrus hops down from the table and slowly begins to advance on you, lips curving into a smile that shows the points of her canines. It’s predatory and devious and utterly delicious and you’re terrified. She backs you against a bookcase and props her hand above your head, her breath stirring the flyaways on the side of your face.

“Cirrus!” Cumulus barks, “You’re freaking her out, knock it off!”

Cirrus whips around.

“What? I just figured the best way to get what we want is to show her what we want.”

“And w-what do you want?”

Your voice is small, your concentration mainly focused on how you’re going to explain this should any unexpected visitors walk in. Cirrus still looms above you but is pulled away roughly by Cumulus, giving you an opportunity to breathe once again.

“Angel,” the shorter ghoulette breathes and the pet name makes your knees wobble traitorously, “We had a conversation with the Cardinal earlier - about this thing going on between the three of us.”

“N-nothing’s going on,” you whisper, panicked. “What…what did you say to him?”

“This is going really well, ‘Lus” Cirrus groans, collapsing in a desk chair.

“Fuck,” Cumulus swears under her breath, “okay let’s back up. Start with the basics. We like you.”

“…I like you too.”

“Allow me to be more specific. We like you. As in we want you.”

Your mouth gapes but no words come out.

“As in,” Cirrus says, spinning in the chair, “as in we want to do filthy, unspeakable, unholy things to you. And don’t act surprised - we can smell it on you. You want it too.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” you scoff, cheeks flushed and arms crossed defensively, “I-I would never be unfaithful to Copia, regardless of what you smell on me.”

“We know, hon,” Cumulus murmurs, “which brings us back to the conversation we had with him earlier today.”

“You spoke with him about–about—”

“Sharing you?” Cirrus smirks, “Yeah. And he was open to it, under one condition - and provided that you are open to it, of course.”

“Sharing me? What like some kind of fucked up romantic timeshare situation? He was open to that?”

“Oh, don’t worry - we have no designs on your romantic relationship. We would never do that to the Cardinal. What we propose is purely physical.”

You go quiet for a moment, heart racing.

“What was Copia’s condition? Apart from my consent.”

“He wants to watch,” Cirrus says, lips curling into a filthy grin.

Your cheeks are so hot you swear you’re going to pass out, but no longer from embarrassment or stress.

From arousal.

“The two of you…really want me?”

Both ghoulettes laugh incredulously.

“Is that so hard to believe?” Cumulus says, stepping forward to toy with the loose ends of your hair. “Pretty little thing like you? Always being so sweet to us - to all the ghouls? We would be honored to have you.”

“And have you we would,” Cirrus growls, rising from her seat to advance on you once more, “Over and over until you beg for us to stop. Get you so drunk on pussy you can’t think anymore. All while your beloved mate watches us. So what do you say?”

When your eyes slide closed and head tilts back, a small whimper escapes you and you hear Cumulus sharply inhale.

“Think that’s a ‘yes’, ‘Lus.”

“I want to hear her say it,” Cumulus breathes, “Go on, angel. Tell us what you want.”

“Want…” your voice comes out in a rasp, “want you both. Want you to fuck me until I forget my own name. Want to taste you. And I want Copia to watch as you use my body for your own pleasure. Please. Please I–”

Your words are cut off as Cumulus lunges forward and slides her fingers to cup the base of your skull as her soft lips press against yours. She’s languorous about it - decadent - teasing your mouth open to slide her tongue against yours. You hear Cirrus whine and Cumulus chuckles into your mouth before pulling away. Before you can say a word, the taller ghoulette is upon you, backing you into the bookcase once more. Her kiss is more forceful than Cumulus’ - though no less enjoyable - and you gasp in delight when she slots a firm thigh in between your legs. When your hips rut against her, she pulls back.

“The Cardinal was right,” Cirrus grins, “you are a voracious little thing, aren’t you?”

You laugh, hands brushing her waist.

“He said that about me?”

“Mmhmm,” Cumulus says with a smile, “so…when do you want us?”

“Let me text Copia, tell him to come down here and I’ll let you bend me over a desk right here and now.”

The ghoulettes erupt in laughter.

“Oh no, angel, we’re going to do this right. We want you in a proper bed where we can take our time with you, yeah?”

“Hmm, if you insist,” you say with a pout, cocking your head to the side. “I’ll talk to him and see what works best. Soon.”

Cirrus bends down and drags the tip of her tongue along your lower lip, making you whimper. She steps back, allowing Cumulus to step in and run her lips along your jawline before kissing you softly.

“Can’t wait to give the Cardinal a show,” she breathes. “See you around, angel.”

“Mmhmm,” you confirm, and as soon as they came in, they’re gone. You sigh heavily.

Your conversation with your lover tonight should prove interesting. And you intend on showing him just how thankful you are.

—--

After the two of you converse on the matter - at great length until you’re both exhausted - you’re collapsed halfway on his chest as the two of you catch your breath. As you roll off him, you laugh.

“I gotta be honest, love, I’m a little bit surprised.”

“Hmm?” he says, angling himself to look at you. “What do you mean?”

“This whole thing with the ghoulettes. I never thought you would ever want to uh, share me. Especially considering I have caught you on multiple occasions chastising siblings and ghouls for giving me the once-over.”

“Eh, noticed that, did you?” Copia says, cheeks flushing, “Well, I don’t know. Part of me feels bad for scooping you up before you got a chance to…explore your desires. Especially with women so…” he finishes lamely.

“Uh-huh. Very kind of you. And certainly not because you have a filthy fantasy about watching me get destroyed by two beautiful, infernal women. Surely that has nothing to do with it.”

“Amore!” Copia objects, placing a hand to his heart, “My intentions are pure!”

“Oh, of course,” you smirk, rolling your eyes, “When the ghoulettes approached you, you definitely weren’t thinking about how pretty I’d look getting my titties sucked and pussy ate - my cheeks all flushed and sweaty as I moan wantonly, my eyes on you from the bed while they–”

“Enough!” Copia croaks, head falling back against the pillow. “Cazzo, are you trying to get me to cum in the sheets?”

“Wouldn’t be the first time,” you snark, hand drifting down to cup the length of him. “Though I’m not sure I’ve had enough of you yet, Your Eminence.”

You shift the bedcovers, laying a line of fervent kisses down his chest.

“Again, amore?”

You place several wet kisses to his belly, grinning up at him.

“Don’t say that as if you’re not enjoying every second of this. We spent almost a whole year in each other’s presence without fucking each other’s brains out. That’s a lot of time to make up for, beloved.”

He chuckles, threading his fingers through your hair as you lick a stripe up his cock.

“You’re insatiable, diavoletta mia.”

“That’s what the ghoulettes said that you said about me. As if you didn’t keep me locked in your bedroom for almost three days after the first time we made love.”

“Mmm let’s do that aga–ah!”

You’ve had enough chatter, and show him so by slipping the length of him into your eager mouth. He’s silent for only a moment, hips flexing against you, before he begins babbling praise.

“Perfetta ragazza,” he groans as your head bobs to take him deeper, “you’re too–hnngh–good to this old man. Always knew that–ah–mouth of yours would look good like this. And that tongue, Sathanas…”

You chuckle around him, sliding off just enough to suckle the swollen head, making him moan and fist your hair. He ruts jerkily against you so you hold him down, thumbs caressing his hip bones as your tongue traces up his length.

“You’re right, you know,” he pants, “This–ah–thing with the ghoulettes? S-somewhat selfish reasons. Every time I see you with them I-I picture you in this bed, p-pleasuring each other. I trust them, trust that they will not–ah–overstep–fuck, amore!”

You’ve taken him back as far as you can and swallowed around him, hand gently massaging his balls. His breath comes in sharp whines as he fights to not thrust dumbly into you, chasing his pleasure. He’s close, you can tell by the broken way he spouts his praise, so you double down and hollow your cheeks.

“Cazzo, cazzo, caz–oh dolcezza, j-just like that. A-almost there, fuck baby.”

You pull off him just enough to suck on the head and, resting it on your tongue, your hand rockets up and down the wet length of him. He lifts his head up and looks into your half-lidded eyes and with a groan his cock spasms against your tongue, spurting his seed into your open and eager mouth.

“That’s it, amore, take it,” he sighs, rutting his hips against your mouth, “Fuck, you look beautiful like this.”

Your lips wrap around his softening cock for a moment, sucking any remnants off of him before pulling off with a pop and making a big show of swallowing and sitting back on your haunches. Copia lets out a tired laugh but he’s got a glint in his eye as his gaze roves your naked form.

“Get up here,” he growls, crooking a finger at you. Slowly, you crawl along his body until your breasts are flush against his chest hair and you can feel his breath against your lips.

“No,” he says patiently, raising a finger to tap on his mustache, “here.”

“Again, amore?” you ask, mocking his earlier words.

“Shall I tie you up and hold you down to have my meal instead?” his hands grip at the meat of your ass, urging you upwards. “Come. Here. Now.”

Oh, how you love when the bossy Cardinal comes out.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!”

You’re naked and bent over one of the drawers you’ve hijacked from Copia, rifling through various pieces of lace and silk. The man in question is leaning against the doorway to his bedroom, arms crossed as he observes you.

“What’s the fuss, amore?”

“The fuss–” you say, standing up and putting your hands on your hips, “--is I cannot figure out what I’m going to wear for this…rendezvous.”

“Eh, traditionally I think it’s done in the nude.”

You glare at him and brandish a pale pink mesh thong in his direction.

“You know what I mean, I have to make a…a good impression. Sexy. I can’t just answer the door with my tits and coochie out like ‘hello welcome to the filth den’. I mean, come on, I agonized over what to wear when I went to seduce you too.”

“Did you?” he asks, eyebrows raised as he ambles over to you, “Ah, now that was memorable. Seeing you sitting in my chair in that pretty little virginal cream silk slip, waiting for me. Ready for me. Mmm cara, so eager–”

Abruptly he pulls you backwards against his chest, fingers sliding down your belly before teasing at the heat of you.

“Copia, my love, as much as I appreciate where this is going,” you murmur, “they’re going to be here in twenty minutes and respectfully, I’m not giving them sloppy seconds.”

“Ugh, fine,” he growls, relinquishing his grip on you. “What about that eh, dark blue silk piece you have? With the lace along the neckline? It looks so pretty with your hair.”

Huh. There’s a thought.

You bend over to do some more digging - ignoring the way Copia is insistently grinding against your ass - and locate it with a triumphant noise. You turn in his grip and kiss him firmly.

“My love, this was inspired, I–” there’s something familiar nudging against you and you look up at him, “Don’t get excited so soon my love, I’d hate for you to uh - finish before anything even begins.”

“Ah dolcezza, I might be in my fifties but have I not proven to have the stamina of Zeus himself?”

“Zeus, huh?” you say, giving him a look, “I certainly hope you don’t have his sense of fidelity, too.”

He looks affronted. It’s cute.

“Amore, you question my faithfulness? You question my devotion? I would never touch another. You, on the other hand. Oh, you were just waiting for this opportunity, weren’t you?”

He’s got an evil little grin on his face and you know he’s trying to get a rise out of you but your lips dip down into a frown and your heart sinks.

“Copia, you know I would never…maybe this isn’t a good idea,” you sigh deeply, biting your lip as tears well in your eyes.

“Oh amore mio,” he says softly, cupping your cheeks in his hands, “I was only teasing! If you are not comfortable with this, say the word and I will end it immediatamente. Truly though, it’s okay, huh? People do eh, exploring all the time while still maintaining loyalty to a partner. And I trust both them and you. My desires are inconsequential - but allow me to give you this gift, sì?”

You nod slowly.

“I love you,” you murmur, reaching up to take his hands in yours, “so much. So much it scares me sometimes, you know? I would never, ever want to do anything that would hurt you.”

He kisses each of your hands.

“And I love you. I know you wouldn’t hurt me but if you have any uncertainty, know that I am A-OK with this. Prometto. Nothing will ever come between us but Sathanas you are going to look so lovely spread out beneath them. On top of them. Sideways, even.”

You sniffle and laugh.

“Hmm,” your eyes glaze over for a moment, “what do you think they’re going to do to me, Cope?”

“Anything. Everything. Kiss and lick and suck and fuck…they’re going to take you apart, dolcezza.”

You shiver.

“Getting me all worked up, Cardinal,” you breathe, the tip of your tongue sliding out to wet your lips.

“I would be a poor host if I did not, eh, ready the party favor, hmm?”

Stepping back with a smile, you slide the midnight blue slip over your head and look in the mirror to loosen your hair from its messy bun.

“Perfetta,” Copia whispers, watching you adjust strands so they fall just right, “they will not be able to resist you.”

“And I will not offer any resistance,” you say quietly, turning away from the mirror to face your beloved. You smooth your hands down the front of his black suit and smile.

“I can do this,” you murmur, those familiar butterflies back in your stomach.

“Only if you want to but yes, I believe you can,” he smiles, fussing at your hair. Abruptly, you grab him by the back of the head and slot your lips against his in an aggressive kiss that slowly turns more lazy and soft. You feel a throb from between your thighs as he whimpers when you suck on his tongue and slowly pull away.

“Good luck tonight,” you purr, “don’t give up the game too quickly, hmm?”

He laughs.

“I had plenty of solo practice drawing things out before we got together, thank you very much.”

“Oh yeah?” you say, cocking your head, “Surely you weren’t thinking of me any of those times…”

“Surely not,” he shakes his head with a smile, “Surely there was another curator who liked to smile at me so prettily and shake her ass so tantalizingly whenever she walked in front of me in tight little skirts. That curator was always so kind to this lecherous old Cardinal. Mmm she was so sweet and soft and–eh, what were we talking about?”

“How you used to shamelessly jack off after staring at my ass?”

“No, no, that was the other curator–”

You roll your eyes and reach your hand down to cup his bulge, making him whine and buck into your touch.

“Easy, dolcezza, easy…I am in a fragile state.”

“‘Fragile state’ my ass,” you grin, “I’ve seen you roll off of me and not ten minutes later hop back on like I’m a pony at a state fair.”

“Ah, not entirely accurate,” he says, lifting a pedantic finger, “you are slightly nicer looking than a pony.”

You slap his balls sharply, causing him to double over with a yelp.

“Just for that, I’m definitely going to leave you for a ghoulette now. Maybe a ghoul too. Who knows?”

“Amore!” he wheeze-laughs, comically cupping himself, “be sweet to me, huh? I might not survive tonight after watching what they do with you…”

“Povera mia,” you croon, “to be fair, I might not survive, myself. I–”

Three knocks sound at the door to Copia’s quarters and you exhale heavily.

“Do you want me to–”

“Yeah,” you nod, walking over to the bed and lowering yourself to sit on the end, facing the doorway. Your heart thuds in your chest as you watch your beloved amble over to the door and open it, smiling when you hear his familiar odd little noises as he stands aside and gestures for your guests to come in. When the ghoulettes step through the threshold your breath catches in your throat. It’s not exactly that you’d forgotten how beautiful they both are but Sathanas it continuously takes you by surprise. They’re both wearing casual clothing - Cirrus in a large t-shirt and basketball shorts and Cumulus in a floral robe - and an anxious laugh bleats out of you before you can smother it. Cumulus is preoccupied with saying something to Copia but Cirrus hears it and gives you a sly grin and a cocked brow. When Copia extends his arm to gesture towards you, your heart plummets into your stomach.

“He–” your voice comes out thick and croaky, “hey, you two. P-please, come in.”

Cumulus favors you with a soft, reassuring smile as she comes to sit next to you. Cirrus plops down on the other side, a hand pushing into the plush red duvet.

“Nice place,” she says, looking around the paneled room, “really elegant.”

“Not my place,” you admit sheepishly, “this is all him.” You point to Copia, who is busy settling into the high backed chair in the corner of the room. He smiles.

“Don’t let her fool you, her room is just as nice. Lots of blues. You’d like it, Cumulus.”

The aforementioned ghoulette laughs quietly, and when she reaches up a hand to brush your hair off your shoulder you want to kick yourself for the way you jump.

“Nervous, angel?” Cirrus asks, flopping backwards onto the bed and letting her fingers dance at the small of your back. You laugh, too loud.

“Y-yeah. Yeah I’m really fucking nervous.”

“What part are you nervous about, sweetheart?” Cumulus asks, shifting her body to face you.

“Uh…everything? The fact that I’ve never been with anyone but Copia, the fact that I’m committing physical infidelity, the fact that you two are so goddamn beautiful, the fact that the man I love is going to be watching…take your pick.”

“Amore, if my presence is causing you any grief I would be happy to le–”

“No,” you say quickly, and you hate the panic in your voice, “No. Please, I need you here. You know how I am, it’s the anxiety. I want to do this for you.”

“For yourself too, I hope,” Cirrus comments from her spot behind you, “unless we’ve been misreading the vibes…?”

“No. Not at all. The vibes are…absolutely there. Incredibly there, in fact. I-I want this,” you look to Cumulus, “I want you. Both.”

“Atta girl,” Cirrus purrs and you don’t even have to look at her to know she’s got a filthy grin curling her lips, “come on, angel. We’ll put on a good show for the Cardinal.”

You look over at Copia, the rapid rise and fall of his chest from the promises of what lie ahead making you ache. Cirrus stands, taking off her shirt in a smooth motion and tossing it to the floor.

“C’mon,” she says, shimmying her shorts and underwear off and climbing onto the bed, “get over here.”

Cumulus snorts as she gets up and you turn, crawling towards Cirrus who is resting against the pillows. When you settle in next to her you finally get a good look at her - all long legs and rounded hips and dusky nipples. You know you’re breathing too loud and then out of the corner of your eye you see Cumulus drop her robe. Cirrus’ chuckle at the whine that comes out of you fans your hair, which she idly twirls between her fingers.

“Perfect, isn’t she?” she asks, looking over at the other ghoulette. You nod. Perfect is an understatement. A rounded belly, large, lush breasts and generous thighs between which are nestled a thatch of white curls. Her tail waves lazily behind her as she uses her hands to trace the path of your gaze. She approaches the other side of the bed and slides in behind you.

“This is pretty,” Cumulus comments, fingers brushing the hem of your blue slip, “keep it on for a little longer, hmm? I like the way it looks on you.”

You nod dumbly and shift to lie on your back. When you do, you catch a glimpse of Copia in the corner. His hand rests in his lap, fingers twitching towards his bulge but he doesn’t touch himself. Not yet. His eyes gleam at you. You’ve got your hands folded on your belly trying desperately not to gawk at either of the beautiful, nude women you’re sandwiched in between.

“Can we touch you?” Cirrus murmurs, ghosting a hand over you.

“Please. Please.”

She smiles and when she lowers her hand to brush against your own you let out a deep exhale. All she’s doing is letting her fingertips glide along the backs of your hands, but it makes you dizzy. When Cumulus reaches down to brush along your thigh, your breath hitches in your throat.

“So sensitive,” Cumulus breathes, dragging her fingers up and over your hip to cradle your belly. You had almost forgotten how the two of them sport a cooling touch - something that comes rocketing back when you feel the almost painful tautness of your nipples. Judging from the low noise that comes out of Cirrus, she’s noticed it too.

“Mmm, pretty little thing,” she purrs, reaching a hand to cup your breast and thumb your nipple through the fabric, “Already so excited for us, ‘Lus.”

“Sure is,” Cumulus agrees, her lips tracing the shell of your ear, “Tell us what you want, angel.”

“K-kiss me. Please.”

“Begs pretty, too,” Cirrus chuckles, “Can’t wait to hear more of that later when I’m making you see stars. Go on, ‘Lus. You’re the one who couldn’t stop talking about her lips.”

Your head turns slightly to face the shorter ghoulette, stomach swooping when she leans in and blows against your lips. You shiver comically and with a smile she reaches a hand up to cup your cheek.

“Ready?” she asks, so softly only you can hear. You nod. When she leans in to capture your lips with hers, you feel as if a dam has broken inside you. All your previous hesitation is gone as you bury your fingers into her curls and pull her towards you, tongue dancing with hers. She’s just as decadent about it as you remember from that day in the archives, soft and yielding as you whimper into each other’s mouths. You’re vaguely aware of Cirrus breathing a curse next to you as Cumulus drapes her body halfway onto yours, hands kneading flesh through fabric. And speaking of fabric–

“This has to come off. Now.” Cumulus groans while pulling away for breath. She’s got one hand gripping the hem of your slip and eagerly shimmying it off your body, pausing to let you lift your hips and sit up to expedite its removal. When the offending garment is finally off, Cumulus skillfully tosses it over to Copia, who catches it with a gasp. You see him press the silk to his cheek, savoring the remnants of warmth from your body and the sight makes you feral.

“Well, well, well, look at you,” Cirrus breathes with a small laugh, “just as soft and lovely as we always knew you would be, right ‘Lus?”

You don’t wait to hear Cumulus’ answer before lunging upwards and slotting your lips against Cirrus’. The taller ghoulette is shocked for only a moment before gripping your thigh and hitching it up on her hip. Where Cumulus’ kiss felt like a dance, Cirrus’ feels like a domination and one you are more than happy to yield to. Teeth chase tongues and when her claws bite into the meat of your waist, you whine into her mouth. When she pulls away you pursue her but she pushes you down into the mattress.

“The Cardinal was right about you,” she grins, “Filthy little thing.”

“If you’re this eager for him, I understand him keeping you from the ghouls,” Cumulus murmurs, “Lucky he likes us best. Shame for the boys, but we’re perfectly fine keeping you all to ourselves.”

“Poor Aether,” Cirrus laughs, “wants you so bad and can’t have you. We promise we won’t be mean and tell him anything about tonight. Much.”

Your head is spinning with arousal, the thought of the ghoulettes tormenting the strong ghoul with sordid details about bedding you causing your clit to throb. Before you can linger on it any further, Cumulus drags her tongue over your clavicle, making you shiver. As if coordinated, both ghoulettes slide down your body until their breath ghosts over your nipples. Your cheeks are hot as Cirrus flicks the tip of her tongue out to graze it. Teasingly she drags the muscle around your areola, avoiding where you want her most and making you whimper pathetically.

“Don’t be cruel, Cir,” Cumulus chastises, placing soft, sucking kisses into the meat of your breast.

“Wanna hear how pretty she begs for me,” she says, smoothing a hand over your belly, “Come on angel, tell me what you want.”

“Suck my tits,” you eke out and Cirrus laughs.

“Oh, the Cardinal’s delicate flower knows how to be direct. I like that,” she pulls back slightly and turns her head to address Copia, “She always this good for you?”

“Better,” you hear Copia rasp and another throb thrums from between your legs.

“Well,” she says, turning her attention back to your breast, “good girls always get what they ask for, right ‘Lus?”

“Then quit talking and fucking give it to me already,” you grit out. Cumulus lets out a delighted noise and Cirrus’ claws bite into your flesh before she drags the flat of her tongue over your hardened nipple. When she finally wraps her lips around the bud and sucks, your hand flies to the back of her head. She’s vicious with her attentions, nipping with sharp canines - Cumulus on the other hand returns to sucking bruises into your other breast, her hand drifting further south. When she firmly cups your mound in her palm a sigh escapes you.

“So good,” you murmur, stroking Cirrus’ dark hair. The tall ghoulette pulls off you with a pop and gives you a grin. Gently, you urge Cumulus back up to face you so you can slide your lips against hers, hand kneading her breast.

“She likes that,” Cirrus breathes, “Loves having her tits played with.”

You moan into Cumulus’ mouth before pulling back for breath. With a firm shove you push the shorter ghoulette flat on her back, dragging your tongue down her sternum. As soon as your lips make contact with her nipple she lets out a whine that goes straight to your cunt. You lap eagerly, rolling her other bud between your fingers as Cirrus settles in behind you to place wet kisses on your shoulder. Out of the corner of your eye you see Copia with his cock in his gloved hand, panting as he stares at you. You’re filled with affection and, with an immense desire to put on a good show for him, you sit up and swing your leg over Cumulus to straddle her. Cirrus falls on her back, clapping as you lower your mouth to sloppily kiss Cumulus.

“Mmm, initiative,” Cirrus purrs, sitting up and delivering a sharp, pleasurable slap to your ass that jolts you forward, “we like that. Keep going, girls. I’ll be back.”

You pull away and grasp for Cirrus, who slides off the bed and reaches to a bag you hadn’t seen either of them come in with. Before you can see what she pulls out, Cumulus grabs the back of your head and pulls you down to where she can drag her teeth along your throat. Her claws scrape at your scalp and you delightedly let her tug you where she wants you. Something about the way her belly presses against yours makes you flush from head to toe. You feel…decadent. Hedonistic. It’s intoxicating and you want nothing more than to show the ghoulette beneath you exactly how good she’s making you feel.

“I know that look,” Cirrus says with a grin, “go on, angel. Make her sing for you.”

I’m going to make you sing, bellezza.

Instantly, you’re taken back to your first night with Copia and you let out a breathy laugh before looking down at Cumulus, who gazes up at you with pupils blown.

“I’ve never done this before,” you murmur and she smiles.

“You’re more familiar with the terrain than you realize. I’ll tell you what feels good, okay?”

You nod and slowly begin to maneuver yourself down her body, kissing and licking every inch of skin available to you. When you settle between her spread thighs and place a kiss to her mound, she lets out a soft sigh. Delicately, you use your thumbs to spread her open and immediately begin salivating when you see how deliciously wet she is. She twitches when your heavy exhale ghosts over her cunt.

“Go on, pretty girl,” you hear Cirrus say encouragingly from behind you, her hands smoothing over your hips. “I’ve got something real special for you.”

As your lips make contact with Cumulus’ slick folds you gasp. Behind you, Cirrus drags the head of what you assume is a silicone cock through your own folds, causing you to arch your back. When you pull away to look back at her she chides you.

“Keep your eyes on the prize, angel. Don’t worry, I’ll take care of you.”

Well. You don’t need telling twice.

With as much fervor as you kissed her, you slide your lips and tongue over her folds, delighting in the way her hand flies to your hair. She’s right, of course, you’re familiar with the general terrain and when the tip of your tongue grazes her swollen clit, she gasps your name. From behind you, you feel the head of the cock drag through your folds again and gently, Cirrus eases the thick tip inside you. You whine into Cumulus’ cunt, hungry for more, but Cirrus holds your hips steady to keep you from bucking backwards.

“Sweet–ah–sweet Aether…used his quintessence on this strap, you know that? Makes it feel like it’s actually a part of me. Poor ghoul had n-no idea who it was going to be used on. Keep going, angel. Want to see you t-take her apart.”

Panting and desperate for her to fill you up, you lower your mouth again to lap up Cumulus’ slick. When your tongue eases inside her she lets out a loud, long moan.

“Good girl,” Cirrus breathes, “g-good–fuck.”

Fuck is right. With agonizing slowness she pushes the strap in and your jaw hangs open at the stretch. Copia is nothing to sneeze at, and he’s thick too, but this you feel in your guts. Your arms wobble as they struggle to hold you up and when Cirrus bottoms out with a groan you let out a pathetic whimper.

“H-how does she feel, Cir?”

You can hear Cirrus panting roughly behind you, hands smoothing over your ass.

“Unholy fucking hell, ‘Lus, hot and wet and t-tight, fuck. I–”

You squeeze around her as hard as you can and Cirrus cuts off with a sharp gasp and a broken moan. When you crane your head to look at her over your shoulder, you give her a grin and she lets out a breathy laugh.

“Oh Cardinal, she’s wicked.”

You hear Copia let out a low chuckle from behind you and it makes your cunt spasm around Cirrus.

“Finish your task, angel,” she coos and you glance up at Cumulus who looks down at you and wets her lips. Feeling deliciously full of both Cirrus’ cock and renewed fervor, you lower your head and slowly drag your tongue though her folds.

“That’s it,” Cirrus murmurs, slowly pulling out of you then pushing back in, “c’mon baby, show her how much you like her.”

So you do.

You’ve got your hands wrapped around Cumulus’ generous thighs, fingers digging hard enough to bruise as you alternate between fucking her with your tongue and circling her clit. Cirrus’ thrusts are deep and forceful, pumping in and out of you while streams of filth slide out of her mouth.

“That’s it, honey,” Cumulus whimpers from above you, burying her fingers in your hair and bucking her hips against your mouth, “so good for me, right there, right–fuck!”

Her praise ceases as you wrap your lips around her clit and suck. Cirrus moans and her pace quickens, fucking into you with less and less abandon. From behind you you hear a strangled amore mio and you know that Copia is close. The visual of his gloved hand wetly sliding along his cock, the taste of Cumulus beneath you, and the mounting pressure of Cirrus’ cock inside you make you feel like you’re going insane. Your moans are muffled, your mouth thoroughly occupied with suckling at Cumulus’ swollen clit while she cries out above you.

“Please, please, please,” she whines, “so close, so fucking close honey, don’t stop!”

You double down and take a page from Copia’s playbook, taking a finger and teasing at her entrance. Slowly, you sink it in knuckle deep and crook it searching for that sweet spot. When she screams your name you know you’ve found it, delighting in the way her cunt clenches around you. When she shatters, she pulls your hair hard enough to hurt but you don’t care, not with the way she whimpers your name like a prayer. The sounds she makes only inflame your passion further and you want nothing more than to wrench another orgasm out of her but suddenly she’s pushing you away. Taking the hint you pull back and suddenly Cirrus’ hand wraps around your shoulder.

“My turn,” she snarls, yanking you towards her and causing your back to arch. Her steady thrusts become sharper, harder, as she pounds into you and makes you see stars. Wrapping her hand around your throat she pulls your back flush against her.

“Look at him,” she growls, her breath hot in your ear, “Look at what you do to him.”

You turn your head to look at your beloved and a gasp hiccups out of your throat. He’s hunched in on himself, gazing up at you with his paints streaked down his face and his mouth hung open in a moan. His hand squeezes at his reddened, leaking cock, hips fucking upwards into his fist. Cirrus holds you in place, her hand seeking your sweat-slick breast to pinch sharply at your nipple as she fucks ruthlessly into you. You cry out, pushing backwards to meet her thrusts.

“I know you’re close, angel,” she groans, hips jackhammering into you hard enough you can’t catch your breath, “mmm fuck gonna–ah–gonna fill this pretty little cunt up. Gonna–ah-ah-fuck, baby!”

“Give it to me, Cir,” you whine, “just like that, j–Copia!”

You cum with a cry, watching as Copia spasms, painting his fist and chest with rope upon rope of his seed. Behind you Cirrus thrusts three times more before you feel her fill you up. You’re trembling in her tight grip as she empties herself into you, her forehead pressed against your shoulder. Copia is looking at you with nothing but pure adoration as you struggle to catch your breath. A silence settles among the four of you and you break Copia’s gaze to look down at Cumulus.

“Beautiful,” she breathes with a wide smile, “fucking beautiful. Look at you.”

You let out a short, delirious laugh and Cirrus mouths weakly at your shoulder.

“You were perfect,” she murmurs into your ear, pressing a kiss to the side of your head, “just like we knew you’d be. Wasn’t she, Cardinal?”

Copia’s head is tipped back against the chair, eyes trained on the ceiling.

“She always is. Always. Amata mia.”

Gently, Cirrus extricates herself from you and the slide of the rigid silicone dildo as it exits your cunt makes you gasp. Weakly, you crawl forwards to Cumulus’ embrace and collapse next to her. Cirrus follows after a moment, slipping in beside you.

“So, how was it?”

Your gaze lingers on the canopy above you and you tip your head to lean against Cumulus.

“Wow,” you say with a dazed smile, “women, huh?”

Cirrus barks out a laugh. You feel your eyelids get heavy as you watch Copia get up and go into the bathroom.

“Don’t fall asleep on us,” Cumulus nudges you, “we’re not done with you yet.”

You whine but you can’t deny the delicious ache coming from between your thighs.

“I’m gonna need a snack, then,” you say with a sigh.

“Anything you want, bellezza,” Copia says, returning to the bedroom, half cleaned up, “I am your servant.”

Hmm. Now that’s a thought.

“Bring me some grapes, a bag of chips, and a pint of ice cream and I’ll show the girls how pretty I look when I bounce on your cock, huh?”

Cumulus lets out a soft gasp and Cirrus’ eyebrows shoot up.

“What flavor?” Copia rasps out, reaching down to adjust the bulge in his pants.

Mmm. You could get used to this.

#curator reader series #cardinl copia x reader #cardinal copia x female reader #cirrus x reader x cumulus #cirrus x reader #cumulus x reader #the band ghost #the band ghost fic #rachel writes

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coriphallus · 2 months ago

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DA: The Veilguard Spoiler Review pt3 - Politiks

oh my little void in this world wide web, we are really in it now.

a little PSA before you read this word vomit, i am from westernmost middle east, and that will inform much of what i know about the topics i discuss. i wont know about race politics of america or the intricacies of it beyond what i can see online but as an immigrant i do have some perspective on western experience. so when i talk about heavy topics it will come from a foreign place. i do understand and admit that i cannot ignore that BW is a north american studio and that colours every theme they touch.

so there are two angles to approach this, 1st is to assess DAV on its own and 2nd is to assess it as a part of a whole and continuation of a franchise.

lets get 1st out of the way, its safely uncontroversial beyond taash's story. and eff-plays voiced my feeling verbatim on that subject more succinctly than anything i can possibly write.

2nd is very, very grim.

every DA game that came before had been interlaced with politics of its world so severely that its absence is disorienting. every game you were given the choice to change the political landscape of the countries youre playing in, for better or for worse. even the 2nd game with its vastly smaller scale sees hawke trying to navigate through their life as an immigrant, even at the games climax you are given a choice to drastically alter how this uprising will be remembered and it tells hawke that there are no half measures, they need to pick a side.

"Slavery or no, flesh is always for sale."

in my very first DAV playthrough i picked a shadow dragon elf, i didnt give her any backstory as i though being an elf in minrathous would shape her world view regardless.

first scene i got when organising my room rook pulls out the SHACKLES of a slave shes freed as she reminisces about how much good shes done, and puts them on her bedside. then proceeds to talk to a book and say "everybody looks down on elves but we were here first >:c"

(at this point i rerolled my character so i dont yet know how shadow dragon background plays out.)

at the very beginning of the game we see similar shackles and varric informs us that solas hates slavery, hes been freeing them.

when we make it to minrathous we learn that these people in neves circle have been freeing slaves.

alright so, the heavy handed deliveries aside, what purpose do all these scenes/expositions serve?

well, it makes these people look good. we know theres slavery in this part of thedas and these people are fighting against it not by any elaborate means but dont worry kitten <3.

[i had to look up the english for some of these terms so feel free to correct me if im wrong] patterson describes slavery as "one of the most extreme forms of the relation of domination, approaching the limits of total power from the viewpoint of the master, and of total powerlessness from the viewpoint of the slave". death of the soul, death of what makes one human -and for the purposes of this section- death in the eyes of state. slavery has such a long history that predates early modern colonization of africa by thousands of years. it is a staple of human history and where we have come from shapes what we are now. we can shun it, call it abhorrent but we cant pretend it never happened. theres always been people dead in the eyes of state.

heres the uncomfortable truth, there aint never been enough steel in the world to hold every hittite or mittani slave. to assume slavery is people getting abducted and put to irons is as naïve as human trafficking being a rando ruffying you and hauling you across the sea in a crate. yea, it could happen but 99% of the time its just a waste of time to physically hold someone against their will by force. and this idea makes us think its this far off thing that happened thousands of years ago by bad individuals doing very comically bad things, which is a very deliberate choice, because to depict period accurate slavery would be to portray social and economical classes, and that would be confronting how little we've changed in certain aspects.

people were born into that caste, shaped by it, worn down by it, and abused by it systematically.

in DAI Dorian says something -apparently- very controversial that i dont think this fandom has fully unpacked, and i aint gonna do that here either because im not remotely qualified. he likens the working class of south to slavery of north, theres no way to engage with this argument in any meaningful way, even as an elf, and in general people brush it off as dorians pro-slavery rhetorics.

try as DAV might to disregard, we actually did meet an ex-slave and trafficking victims on three separate occasions, and the games have set a premise already. we got to talk about their unique circumstances, and they were handled with some measure of dept. maybe you liked them, maybe you didnt, but you knew them and that makes a difference. they had agency in their own stories. a far cry from DAVs nameless faceless props for righteous gentiles to circle jerk about.

but, sure, lets tell ourselves showing them would be too gratuitous.

can you imagine how batshit insane it would look if zevran kept the belt her husband used to beat isabela with as a trinket, to display in his tent? that scene with rook disturbed me more than most anything in this entire franchise and coming from an anders supporter, thats saying something.

this is how little the writers were willing to engage with their source material. this is how little they are willing to engage with the world around them.

which makes the next blunder inevitable.

alot has been said about the absurdity of elves feeling responsible for the events of DAV, but maybe this hasnt been said enough; this is a blatant fascist rhetoric.

i will spell it out though, even though i never thought it needed to be said, the social performance of accountability indicates that the party who has done harm has benefited and continues to benefit from that harm, this is why reparations are paid, and thats what "check your priviledge" means. elves in DA have never benefited in any way from the warmongering of evanuris, they were enslaved by them.

to say that these people should feel some sort of responsibility towards what befell dwarves is a fascist rhetoric used irl to offload responsibility and divide and alienate the opposition further from eachother.

i cant tell you if this mouth piece is same everywhere but i know a few people who have clocked it immediately so im gonna assume it was obvious. and truthfully, i wouldnt even be annoyed if i thought it was intentional. genuinely, one of my favourite games is an unapologetic military propaganda whos protagonist would make ayn rand write sonnets about, and the game knows what it is. but no, i fully believe the studio tried to address the criticism they got about their lackluster handling of elves and either completely misunderstood or willfully disregarded the experiences of marginalised peoples that the games drew inspiration from.

the writing is so hollow beyond horrible dialogue that when writing an enby character whos also multicultural they didnt even notice the parallel theyve created. i know this because after an entire plotline about their struggle with binaries their story concludes with a binary decision on their culture. this just confirms to me that any dept this game has is completely accidental.

imma level with yall i dont subscribe to the belief that you need to have some type of experiences to write some type of characters and i find that "ofc a white person wrote it so..." response very tired because yea we should be allowed to expect more from white people. i too had OCs of different cultures that i wasnt very familiar with and handled poorly, but unlike me, a company can afford a consultant.

i played greedfall recently, and sure the maori tattoos were a shit decision, and im disappointed that after all the criticism they still stuck with it, and yes maybe its story was not sensitive enough but you know what? as the person whos recommended it to me said, i rather have a story who boldly engages with its own themes than one whos terrified of them. say what you will about its shortcomings but at least at the end of that game you can have an ending where the colonizers leave for good, and yes their plague is not healed but the narrative doesnt punish the natives for their isolationism. i am glad that the game allows that catharsis to its players.

DAV could have had 300 well thought-out endings and still not please everyone, but the endings they chose to include directly implicates the group theyre trying to appease and its literally just people who either want to punch or kiss solas, thats how fucking deep they think their fanbase it. not the people who wanted to end slavery, or achieve equilibrium with beings no matter how alien they are. or people who wanted to see a culture connect with its roots etc etc.

and maybe they were right, many people have been enjoying this game immensely and i am just, so fucking jealous. i wish i liked this game and enjoyed it and didnt want to tear out my hair every second i spent in treviso. i wish i wasnt seething white knuckling my sink like an insane person when a little kid wrote to crow rook that hes recruiting orphans now. i wish i had any belief in this game to read that as satire.

at least i wish i felt any form of vindication when i immediately realised this game was going to be a soulless cashgrab that unashamedly uses the name of a popular IP to push a sub-par product earlier this year, i just spend 80+ hours watching a company parade the carcass of a franchise i loved and beat it like a pinata as it continuously slapped me on the face with a botched wax figure of it.

i just feel this profound sense of sadness. i wish this game didnt exist. and no i dont feel any kind of brand loyalty, even when i actively enjoyed their work i didnt but i definitely dont now, not after 3 consecutive games that theyve delivered with more or less the same problems. as the company is today, i dont care whether bw survives or not, its been made clear time and again that the bw i liked is long gone and bw today is clearly not interested in making games for me.

even as i write this i dont feel fuelled by my anger for DAV but by the love a have for what came before. i still think the story deserved better, the fans deserved better, the people who contributed into making DA universe what it was before DAV deserved better. and, as rook told harding, our anger is justified.

but, hey. hair looks really good.

#veilguard critical #da:tv spoilers #bioware critical #personal #tw: abuse #tw: slavery #long post

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simpingforbots · 2 months ago

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Hello! I'm kinda new here in your blog and I saw those "what if a human ended on Cybertron" and I just love those stories they're so good

No need to do it now cuz idk if you are taking requests but could you make More of them? A part 6 with souls prime and amalgamous prime

hello there! thanks for letting me know that you like my stories and i will try my best as i am sort of new to Transformers. i got in to transformers thanks to Bay movies, Transformers prime, transformers animated and now Transformers One. So please forgive me if i might be incorrect. i will do my best.

What if human ended up in Transformers one.

part 6 (requests)

Solus Prime

(reade in this situation are female)

Being the first fembot of Cybertron is nothing easy, especialy when you have this much weight on your shoulders. Even if she found joy in creating things, the constant need for weapons was becoming exhausting. thankfully Megatronus were there to comfort her, even if they had some fights here and there, it was something good. So when something small and week showed up on surface of Cybertron, being chased by Quintessons, the injustice towards such pathetic creature fired Solus right up and they took care of those pathetic, ugly, disgusting bug creatures. They smashed them all with their hammer, letting their fiery side out along with all the frustration, all while YOU scrambled for safety to let those huge creatures duke it out. Though you did not stayed hidden for long as you wanted. A servo reached in to the hiding spot you were in, apparently not small enough for them to reach in at all, easily puling them out. After expecting this small creature they were shocked to see that it was as same frame as her, meaning she must be not the only fembot, even if in weird fleshy body. A small creature with no clear way of defending them self against harsh environment of Cybertron. So she takes you with to Iacon to keep you safe from anything dangerous and started working on creating something to help communicate. it is a bit hard as your little chirps were hard to decipherer, but signs were easy to learn. And let's just say you were also subjected to her little experiments as now SHE had a whole new reason to create.

Amalgamous Prime

Being the most unserious of all thirteen, Amalgamous felt a bit out of place time to time. he just wanted others to be a bit more... unserious all the time, this constant monogamy of data pads, meetings and fighting was surreally exhaustion for every one. He did felt a bit jealouse a bit of Solus and Megatronus since they started seeing each other, even if it was "privet secret" between 13 primes, he still wanted something else. He would venture to surface time to time, just exploring away, watching strange deer creatures "graze". Or change in to something else and joing his "subject" and wonder around Iacon. he found you in one of dark markets that he knew was illegal, yet still something about you caught his single optic. Purchasing you along with some book about "hoomans" he returned to the palace, knowing that now he had something to break the rutine. At first it was hard as you most of time hid away, to scared, but overtime you grew used to this strange bot, snickering quietly at his "tricks". after some time you were comfortable enough to laugh along side him at his little pranks.

Zeta Prime

So much responsibly for one bot - having matrix of leadership, being leader of 13 Primes, taking care of entire civilization and defending them from quinteson will be a tool to any one, no mater if they were born to do this. at first Zeta refused to believe that HE - the matrix bearer - was tiered, but in the end no one can escape the truth. It did not helped that a suden raid on Quintessons ship brought a small flesh being in to his existence. so much needed to be done so taking care of something so small and fragile was really not in his plans. But he was sort of stuck with you and just kept you in a cage, for your own safety of course, he does not want any bot to step on you by excident. If you behaved and did not flipped him off or yell something in strange language - you would be reworded by being let out of the cage and let to wonder his table while he was buissy. He would drift away from data pads just to play with you, rolling pen between him and you, chuckling seeing how hard you had to push just to roll it towards him, or simply watch you doodle inside one of the pads he would push towards you, giving the smallest pen he could find to doodle in, finding that it was one of a few ways you can communicate with him through doodles. and apparently he has a new name - Crown, about which he did not complain about.

part1 part2 part3 part4 part5

#transformers #transformers x reader #transformers one #transformers x human

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peggyao3 · 4 months ago

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Relic - Pt. 10 "Fettered Flesh"

PAIRING: Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x Unnamed Ambiguous FMC

SUMMARY: ✧ Dreams are messages from the deep ✧

A woman from the unknown comes to Feyd in his dreams and his nights become his days as he flees to the dreamscape to escape the nightmares that haunt his waking hours.

TAGS: 18+, smut, she/her AFAB FMC, vaginal sex, vaginal fingering, oral sex, Porn with Plot, Feyd-Rautha's black cum and big cock, Praise Kink, Body Worship, angst/hurt and comfort, drama, fluff, Frank Herbert would frown, some politics, implied/referenced (child) abuse❗, Trauma, mentions of suicidal thoughts❗, Healing, Strangers to Lovers, falling in love, Vulnerable/Emotional/Possessive Feyd, Feyd is a sweet baby who did nothing wrong and I WILL pamper him, nurture not nature, Stockholm Syndrome but in a consensual way, lucid dreaming, implied/referenced cannibalism❗, Murder, Female rage, Teaching the Universe about Feminism, Angst with a Happy Ending

WORD COUNT: 5k

A/N: HELLO PRECIOUS PEOPLE 💕 Shit hits the Giedi Prime fan, so get out your umbrellas!! I feel like with every chapter I'm getting more excited 🥹 And everyone who has left a comment is to blame 😭 I appreciate it so greatly 😭 I've recently started an internship thingy (in a manner of baby's first real job experience lmao), so I have a bit less time to write, but chapter 11 and 12 are finished already, so I do have a bit of food in stock 💪

Reposted from my Ao3 💕| Masterlist | Relic Masterlist

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

← Previous Chapter, Next Chapter →

Day 5

Jealousy is a beast, but loneliness is a monster.

Jealousy ignites with fiery tendrils but loneliness drowns you slowly until you're staring up from the bottom of the pitch black sea, yearning for the light.

All day she's been mulling over the three woman-creatures, Feyd's "pets". What is it that infuriates her the most? The physical violence? The fear of what they might have done to her - Death, torture or worse? Their derogatory status? Their beastliness grafted into female bodies, paired with the fact that Feyd has been bedding them at some point?

Without thinking about it, and perhaps it is tactless, she has been pouring her heart out to Lilia while the attentive handmaid is treating her scabbed injuries from last night. Now it is evident that wound management is a well-needed skill around the Harkonnen palace. The sarcophagus is safely folded up and her new weapon is tucked into one of the compartments.

"Am I overreacting?!" She asks, even though - hell no - she knows she isn't, but a part of her soul yearns for human connection, affirmation, camaraderie, friendship. It feels so good to be talking to someone who is not the man she thought she knew or the belittling Bene Gesserit sisters.

"Hmm," Lilia begins tentatively and the glowglobe light brings out the unusual color of her eyes as she tilts her head, so amber that they almost appear golden. "While I'll say it's never been common for the na-Baron to practice monogamy… I'll also say that I'd be quite furious at my husband if he had three women on the side." Her voice quivers upon women, as if it repels her to describe the three beings as such. The spider in the Baron's throne room may be the most harmless monster to roam these halls.

The engineer's questions chip away and it becomes perfectly clear that it's the jealousy that cuts the deepest, even with her superficial wounds cared for, a blade is wedged inside her guts that will keep on cutting.

"And do these 'pets' have handmaids too?" A self-destructive question to determine where her own status truly lies. What's a bride but another pet to him?

"They used to have handmaids…" Lilia hesitates. "But they always ended up eating them. I'm glad to be assigned to you, my Lady."

Great. There she has another horror to add to the menagerie.

Lilia continues: "If it calms you, I doubt there will be any further incidences with them. The na-Baron has been in an, uhm, unstable mood since last night." The maid's posture turns rigid. She shouldn't be speaking about the na-Baron like that, but the Earth woman's emotions are contagious. Lilia will get herself killed if she's not careful. She's been telling that to herself since she was a little girl.

"Unstable, uh-huh, well so am I."

The Harkonnen woman nods and decides it is best not to elaborate on what it means when Feyd-Rautha is having the worst day of his life.

Vladimir Harkonnen chuckles with delight at his nephew's distress and the infantile killing spree that has been painting the halls black since last night.

It took even less time than he expected, for the new woman to be disgusted by his poor nephew and he cannot hold it against her. Feyd-Rautha is a raging child in an unfortunately manly body.

The Baron is well-entertained by the hollow screams that blare down the hallways. First the three harpies. A shame, they had helped keep Feyd settled so nicely and they hadn't been cheap either. It's also a shame that the Bene Tleilax don't offer bulk discount, considering the number of Gholas the Baron saw himself forced to commission for the little game his nephew and he have been playing.

Next on Feyd's blade was the guard at his little witch's door, then anyone who crossed his path in the night, all the while Feyd was chafing with desire to be cut and hurt. But no one outside of the ring is allowed to raise their blades against the Baron's heir apparent, unless instructed by the Harkonnen sovereign himself.

Some fire has returned to his nephew since the woman's arrival and he appreciates that, yes, he does, but he will keep a sharp eye on the two of them. He has no doubt that she's a Bene Gesserit agent who has implanted phantasms in Feyd-Rautha's mind, but Vladimir is willing to play the sisterhood's game, for his nephew's sake, even though he had sworn to never let a witch enter his fortress again.

Not since Lady Margot Fenring had tried to steal his lovely boy's precious seed. Luckily, Feyd's blade had worked quicker than the thief's vocal chords.

But Valdimir is willing to adapt. The boy had been boring him to death for the past two years and he used to be so entertaining and feisty!

In the evening hours after a night and day of bloodshed, Feyd still has stamina (a trait the Baron cherishes so dearly about his nephew) and comes barging into the guarded dining room, bringing with him the cloying scent of blood that sticks to the tacky soles of his boots. He wears the clothes of yesterday and blood lust in his eyes.

Careful now.

Vladimir gives no sign to the guards, chews without haste and takes a noisy gulp of wine, making sure a bead rolls down the folds of his massive neck. The muscle at his nephew's jaw twitches and his fingers strangulate the blood-slick handle of his blade.

The eight arm-legged arachnid creature shivers in its basket under the table, eager to get to Feyd, partly because his boots smell yummy, but it doesn't dare move away from the Baron's feed. Smart thing.

"Don't look at me like that. It's not my fault that she doesn't like you, boy."

Feyd halts as if struck by one of the bolts of infrared lightning that cook the atmosphere during the summer months. Tension strains his neck, a bull ready to charge at his Matador and for a second the Baron thinks he'll have to switch on his shield ring. But his nephew turns and barges off with bouncing, stomping steps, draining his stamina and wetting his knives on everything that breathes, when the only one he really wants to kill sits fat and mighty on his throne.

It's almost cute, Vladimir thinks. The boy could kill him so easily now, if he really put his cunning, little mind to it. He's strong enough, smart enough, but his spirit - that's the crux. Feyd's spirit is broken and riddled with fear of the punishments. The last time he tried was at 17 and then never again.

Ah-h-h, yes, the Baron has conditioned him well and he considers it his retirement plan. Age hasn't left the Harkonnen sovereign unscathed and while his mind may still be sharp (or else how would he have come up with such a genius plan!), his morbidly obese body fully relies on the protection of his shield ring, guards, lung machine and poison snoopers. But as long as the boy still fears him, the deadliest threat within these halls remains on a pretty, silver leash.

The fire of jealousy has dwindled down and now all she does is miss him, sitting lonely in her room, lonely on this planet, lonely in the universe with only inanimate objects and the virtual messages and images of dead people to keep her company. None of this can ever compare to the warm hands of her beloved and his smile, the roundness of his cheeks and his painted teeth. She misses the way his eyes used to crinkle just for her. He had made her believe that only she could make him smile and offer a sliver of peace to his soul.

It's been two years since their last dream. Why wouldn't he have taken other women?

He said he "hasn't touched them". Since when? Since he learned she's alive? Since their first dreams? Ever?

She regrets now that she denied him when he knocked on her door an hour ago. The bitter guilt of disgracing oneself crawls over her when she slowly moves towards the door, but her self-respect has cauterized and become cinders along with her fury. Feeling sick to her stomach, she places her hand on the panel and the heavy door slides open.

Finding herself face to back with a guard in bulky plate armor, she halts. She wouldn't know where exactly to find Feyd's room anyway. The man turns on his heels and salutes briskly before returning his hand to the hilt of his saber.

"Good evening. Ah, wait, are you… New?" She blurts out, not meaning to seem disrespectful. The Harkonnens often do look quite alike to her, but she could have sworn the old guard was a little shorter.

"Yes, my Lady." The man looks right above the crown of her head, avoiding her eyes.

"What happened to the other guard?"

"He was replaced, my Lady."

That does make sense and she's almost a little relieved. She wouldn't want anyone who'd let these bloodthirsty creatures inside to guard her and her most valuable possession. However, she still hopes this incident won't ruin his chances of employment indefinitely.

"I see." She glances cautiously down the austere corridor. Past the windows, there is only blackness and the occasional faraway rumble from the factories. "Do you have to stand here all night? Your feet must be hurting. What about a chair?"

"I'm not allowed such luxuries."

"Says who? You can't excel at your job while being overworked and your feet are aching in those boots."

The man wonders if the na-Baron's Lady wishes to insult or test him. "I am at full capacity, my Lady!" He salutes again. "I have no complaints about my boots."

"Fine, alright. Could you please point me the way to Feyd's room then? I want to see him. No need to accompany me, I'm sure I'll find it, just make sure no one enters my room, please?"

"Sorry!" The man extends his arm to the side, stopping her advance around him without laying a finger on the Lady. "The na-Baron has ordered this door to be sealed unless he or your handmaid demand entrance."

"Well I don't demand entrance, I want to exit. I want to see Feyd."

The guard grows queasy. That scenario was not included in his instructions. To be fair, the briefing for his new position can be considered rudimental at best but he didn't complain. Up here has been the safest spot in the palace tonight. "The na-Baron doesn't welcome visitors in his private quarters."

"But I'm his…" She swallows uncomfortably. "Betrothed, or am I not?"

"You are, my Lady."

"So, couldn't you perhaps call him?"

The poor guard's expression says 'I'd rather not'. The na-Baron has only just settled, finally, and even the dumbest desert rat knows not to wake a sleeping tiger. All evening long he's been wondering how many of his comrades will be dead come the morning and he doesn't want to be the next one to become fodder for the slaves' food rations. "I'm sorry, my Lady. It is against the protocol to disturb the na-Baron at night unless there is an emergency. Is there an emergency?"

"No…" The woman's expression twists into defeat and she pads backwards with slackened shoulders and somber eyes. "I'm sorry to have bothered you."

The door slides shut and she is too sad to even be angry about her gentle imprisonment. There's nothing out there for her anyway, except for Feyd, and if he doesn't want to see her…

Self-destructive thoughts sprout from the cinders in her chest and grow into the wildest phantasms. The guard was too kind to tell her Feyd has visitors in his room. Perhaps he explicitly decreed that she is not to join him.

To prevent herself from hurtling into a bottomless spiral, she must find a distraction. Nearly choking on bitter tears, she opens up the virtual app drawer that she's most familiar with and selects the 3d-modeling tool. A nice, little task to keep her thoughts from straying is exactly what she needs, and so she settles down on the bed and begins to design a practical, foldable, printable chair for her guard, thoughtfully optimizing stability and the required resources.

The engineer doesn't notice when her tears dry, but they do.

Day 6

She sleeps awfully that night, despite the chip's helpful sleeping program consisting of gentle rain and soothing frequencies. It can't have been much longer than two hours when she is awoken by a knock on the door, followed by another, more insistent one a moment later.

The 3d-modeling interface still overlays reality when her eyes snap open and her sluggish brain activity requires a moment to shut it down. She was almost finished with the printable chair parts last night, but she must have dozed off eventually.

The knocking persists and she calls: "Lilia?"

A pause. "It's me." An unmistakable, deep and raspy voice comes muffled from the other side. Feyd-Rautha, freshly showered and dressed in a clean, casual suit, leans his forehead against the cool, thick plastic, breathing hard and fast so that his respiration condenses on the door. Waiting, he pleads silently for mercy. He cannot do this anymore, doesn't want to kill anymore just to feel something other than fear.

She freezes, legs half swung off the mattress as anxiety twists her belly. All of her jealousy comes crashing back and a little demon whispers poison in her ear: Go back to your hyenas and toy around with them, not me!

When silence is the answer to Feyd's timid greeting, his stomach drops as if filled with lead. Blood pounds in his ears like the war drums on his birthdays and his breath becomes shallow, so that he no longer even hears the guard's antsy shuffling. What will he do if she never forgives him?

A harrowing need for violence flashes through him cold and dark and his twitching hand jerks for the blade at his hip but the door rushes open before he can brandish it and his woman faces him with crossed arms, her face puffy from sleep but her eyes are wide and vulnerable.

She beckons him to enter and he follows, eyes racing to the crowns of thorns in the vase, the sarcophagus, the ruffled bed, everything the way it was. How does she deal with pain?!

"Hello," Feyd mumbles, voice reduced to a tiny, grated whisper.

"Hello."

"Can we… talk?"

The relic nods and waits, clammy fingers clutching her sleeves. But then Feyd says… nothing. His eyes are focused on an imaginary point somewhere behind her navel and his jaws strain as if chewing a brick.

So, she begins: "I'm sorry, but I was very upset." She paces, shoulders drawn up. "I know that customs are different around here, I mean, they obviously are," she guffaws quietly and shakes her head. "But where I'm from, it requires consent to have more than one partner and I never gave you that consent. I've never given my consent to anything that's happened to me since I woke up! And then I found out you're alive and I can be with you and I really believed everything would finally be better, but you-" Her voice hiccups. "I'm very upset, okay?" Her lips twist and she lifts a hand to her mouth, sobbing quietly into her palm. "You're so different in real life."

Feyd's frozen limbs regain their agility and he jumps to her side as she tries to turn away, a swift predator despite his anguish. He clutches her by the arms. "Wait! Remind me. H-How was I in our dreams?"

"I- I don't know, you looked happy." Her arms burn where he's holding onto her with his broad palms and long fingers. "And you were kind."

"Have I not been kind to you?"

"To me, yes. But being kind only to me is not enough." She shakes her head bitterly.

"What do you want me to do?"

"Be honest with me. Who are these three?! They said you don't play with them anymore like you used to, and they hurt me, Feyd!" She writhes out of his clenched fists and he lets her because when her fingers skim his wrists, all his muscles go weak. She yanks up her shirt, showing off the healing gash on her waist.

Feyd wants to kill his darlings all over again and his sinful mouth twists into anger. "They used to be my pets. Pleasure slaves, if you will. Just some meaningless toys, nothing more, I swear it to you."

"Pleasure slaves!" She blurts out, shaking her head. At least he's being honest but - what the fuck?! "You-" Stumbling over her own words, she backs away from him with disgust. "Who are you? Who the fuck are you?"

More violence waits on her tongue. Does he respect anyone other than himself?

"You know me! You know who I am, where are you going?!" Doesn't she know she knows more about him than anyone else?

"I don't know shit about you!" She yells. "Where were you last night?"

"What?" All color is drained from his face. How could she know?

"Were you with them because I couldn't perform the way you wanted the other day?"

"What are you talking about?!" Feyd tries to grasp her by the arms once more but she twists away. If anything, he is at blame for being unable to make his woman comfortable enough to reach her release. What a pitiful good-for-nothing he is, pathetic down to the last, rotting cell. "I haven't touched my pets since I met you and that's the truth!"

"Oh, yeah? Then why was I not allowed to see you at night?"

"What makes you say that?"

"I tried to come to you last night, but the guard at my door said I'm supposed to stay in this room! So, were you with them?!"

Feyd stops his advance and an incredulous shimmer glazes over his blinking eyes. He could have held her last night, against his hurting heart. A dizzying lightness befalls his chest and sorrow becomes anger and anger wings his footsteps when he turns to the door, grinning, then giggling. Feyd slams his veined hand against the panel so hard, the screen cracks and inky blood slips down the valleys of his palm.

"Feyd? Feyd! What are you-"

The baffled guard faces the snickering na-Baron behind the opening door, last night's tiger resurrected like a Ghola for one last kill. A stammered 'my Lord' on diddering lips. Feyd-Rautha looks as bestial as his hyenas with prowling steps and rolling shoulders, searing eyes locked on his unmoving prey.

"You told my woman she couldn't see me last night? S'that right?" A slip of pink peeks out of the ghastly frame of black, gnashing teeth.

"My Lord, I beg your mercy, I didn't wish to distur-"

Metal flashes. The relic screams as the length of Feyd-Rautha's blade carves into the guard's pallid neck, Adam's apple bulging and sitting on the knife like a popped, black cherry. Blood sputters around Feyd's clenched fingers and laughter has faded from his lungs at once. He digs deeper as the guard draws in gurgling breaths, bubbles of air swimming in the blood around the metal.

The relic freezes like a mouse, glued to the spot as if she might turn invisible to the cold eyes of the beast who wears her lover's clothes. He looks nothing like Feyd-Rautha now, his features empty and alien with eyes that don't feel and hands unfazed by the death that stains them in thick, inky streams that roll down his victim's neck.

This is how the universe sees him.

Feyd's blade slashes sideways, spraying a half moon of blood across the corridor and when the guard stumbles, he falls back into the na-Baron's knife, adding a vertical gash to the horizontal one, tip sinking into the flesh under his jaws, and with a jerk - up into his tongue.

The man grunts, still clinging to his life by a thread, and lurches forwards without drawing his sword. His head falls on Feyd-Rautha's shoulder. Feet shuffle in a grotesque waltz and Feyd's bloody fingers slip around the taller man's neck, holding him there while his blade plunges into his belly between armor plates so deftly, he could find all the weak spots blindfolded. The body slackens, weighing down on Feyd-Rautha whose ichor dripping fingers aren't ready to let go.

Shuk! Shuk!

Is the sound of his blade sinking into soft flesh and viscera, whipping back out with a spray of blood and entrails.

The Bene Gesserit may have proclaimed her human, but the adrenaline that sets her nerves ablaze is a gift from her ancestors, animals, because that's what humans are at the end or the day when facing a bigger predator.

Fwump.

Feyd looks her way, the dead body dropped, and blood covers his hand like a shiny glove of ink, dripping down the blade tip in a drizzling stream. The light catches on the sharp edges of his alabaster skull and all she sees is a new, terrifying breed of human, birthed by a world of poison and decay. There are millennia between them. They may share the same DNA but that doesn't mean he is not an alien to her.

In the end, the man from her dreams is not the man of her dreams.

Out the door? - Blocked! Death!

Off the balcony?! - Death!

To the Sarcophagus then. To her gun.

She turns and sprints, feet skidding over the shards of her rose-colored glasses, but Feyd pounces, a beast hungry for carnage, and catches her around the waist, hurling her backwards with the strength of three men. His blade clatters to the ground.

"No, wait. No. NO! NO! You can't go," he howls. "You cannot leave me!"

Wailing, she thrashes in his grasp and slams her elbow into his guts, her foot against his shin, then his crotch and the soft flesh there is squashed by her heel. When his hold slackens, she twists away and bolts, bare toes slipping across icy marble, but blood-smeared fingers find her shoulder, tearing on the fabric. She throws herself away from him so hard, the seam starts coming apart, so his other hand flies to her throat, steel-hard fingers curling around clammy flesh, yanking her around and against the wall.

She can't be looking at him like that, like he's the devil. Like he looks at his uncle.

Desperately, his lips search for hers but she jerks her head to the side, bites, scratches, nails burrowing into his throat. No is the word that Feyd-Rautha raps out between violent kisses that seek her pulse point with his tongue and teeth, no, she can't ever leave him, no, not ever, even if she hates him like everyone else. Her fear poisons the sweat on her neck and her nails don't egg him on, they hurt. He takes a knee to the guts and his lungs pop open for a harrowed cry.

Pain used to be pleasure but everything hurts, she doesn't love him anymore. One more meek and quiet final 'no' as he abandons the assault on her neck and his slackened arms wrap around her middle, hiding his face from rejection in her shoulder's soft flesh. Tears drip hotly, finally. All day and all night he's been waiting for the cathartic downpour, but not even the most pitiful plea could rouse a sliver of empathy in the hollow of his chest. Now he bawls like a baby forgotten in its crib and his blood-soaked hands seek purchase at the back of her shirt.

The woman grows still, nails still wedged inside the bloody crescent indents in his neck. Her lungs ache when she draws a trembling breath and Feyd-Rautha's hard, heavy chest moves with her, no more fight left in him. Quietly, she cries with him and curls her arms around his round shoulders, holding him there as he clings to her like an abandoned child and sheds tears for all the hurt and all the fear.

The man of her dreams is still there, somewhere, under the alien shell, vulnerable, weeping.

"You hate me, don't you?" A broken sob.

Looking over his head, the dead guard's viscera glitters darkly on the hallway and she is surprised to realize that even now, she doesn't hate him.

Feyd continues: "This is why I never wanted you to know who I am. I am awful."

"You're not awful," she whispers, fingers slipping around the back of his head, nails rimmed darkly by Feyd's blood.

"I have to be awful. I was born to be awful."

"That's not true…" He was groomed to be awful.

But Feyd isn't finished. In a fashion of now or never, confessions spill out of him like poison rain. "I killed my mother when I was four. I don't remember why. I killed my pets. I kill men for sport. I kill people for fun. I kill because it's the only thing I can do. Yesterday, I-" His voice breaks. "I killed anyone I could find and no one fought back. I lo-o-ost count."

A full glass can't get any fuller when pouring more water, so shock and disgust are lost to the acceptance that has smoothed over the crescendo. They're just information to be added into a folder in her head. Feyd killed his mother. Feyd kills people for fun. Still, she holds him, fingers sliding up and down the back of his head as his shaky sobbing turns breathless and ugly.

"Okay," she whispers and rests her cheek on his head, exhaling softly so her warm breath fans his scalp. "For fun?"

"Ye-e-es."

"So, you had fun last night when you-" She swallows. "Killed?"

"No."

She lets out a thoughtful hum and Feyd's grip on the small of her back tightens. Still, he doesn't dare look at her and tears and snot have soaked her shirt. With her emotions currently defective, her ability for logic is still sharp, and so she concludes, it does all make sense.

Her poor Feyd, a current had pulled him under when he was barely a child and then layer after layer, he has been building his armor so as not to drown in the maelstrom of abuse. With every kill, a little boy has been screaming for help in an empty room.

Soft lips press a kiss to the crown of his head and Feyd's breath trembles in her hold, a beast tamed by a loving caress. That's all it takes.

Just because she understands his actions, doesn't mean she endorses them.

"Will you still be my wife?"

"I haven't decided yet." Another kiss so gentle, it taunts the corpses stacked up in the processing hall.

"So, we're no longer engaged?"

"I don't think we ever were, not to me. But that doesn't mean I don't love you."

Dizzily, Feyd-Rautha raises himself. If not for the fingers twisted into his woman's shirt, he might just topple back into the spinning vortex at whose edge he is teetering now, one foot in heartbreak, the other in salvation. Blue eyes crack open, rimmed with dark blood vessels. She doesn't flinch, doesn't bolt, only her hands slide to the front of his suit and slip under the lapels, thumb rubbing where his heart hammers.

Feyd sees the tracks of dried tears on her cheeks and the shadow of horror tucked away in the corners of her eyes in a way that is all too familiar to him. More than anything, he wants to delete the images from her head and close the door, kick the blade under the bed, pretend it never happened. He tried to do everything right, got her flowers, hid her away in her own room away from state matters, made love to her with all his heart, but at the end of the day he is still who he is when he can't hide within a dream and it'll never be enough.

"Feyd, is… Is Lilia okay?"

"Yes, she is," comes the earnest reply and she exhales shakily, head sinking against Feyd's chest, arms sliding around his waist beneath the suit where his skin is burning hot.

"Thank God." Her voice warbles, the only warning before her knees give out and every other muscle along with them. The pair sink to the cold, hard ground. "I just want to go home," she sobs and crawls in her beloved's lap which is still the only place in the cold, hard universe that soothes her soul.

Not her sarcophagus, although it is tempting to freeze herself up again and sleep forever. No, it is still him. A new home, not what she had imagined, but a home.

"Me too," Feyd sighs and squishes his cheek against the top of her head, closing his eyes to envision the bedroom of their shared dream, blue pillows, a white bed, a softly rustling fern in a terracotta pot, her in his arms. Home.

How easy it would be to demand of him: 'If you kill one more innocent, I will leave you!' But she might just kill more than she saves that way, and maybe him too, and maybe herself.

"Feyd, can you-" She sniffles. "If you get angry again, please never hurt Lilia. And whoever the new guard will be, don’t hurt him either. Can you do that for me please?"

"I promise." He squeezes her tight, eyes screwed up so tightly that he sees only dizzying stars. "I love you. I'm sorry."

She cannot fix the whole world, but she can start where she can see. It's not a solution, but a sapling, and a sapling can grow.

Mother Father How did I end up here, stone bound? All I feel ist the striking distance to the clouds My flesh is fettered on the skin of the soil But even so I almost reach the sparks in the void Sailing through the vacuum, am I drowned or alive?

- Cepheus by Fewjar

A/N: Okay, I promise promise this was the angstiest chapter, we're climbing uphill from here!! 🥺🥺🥺 Hand over your guesses, what do you think will happen from here? 😌💕 Thank you so much for all of your time!

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#feyd #feyd rautha #feyd rautha harkonnen #feyd x reader #feyd x oc #feyd rautha x reader #feyd rautha x oc #feyd imagine #feyd rautha imagine #feyd fanfiction #feyd rautha fanfiction #feyd smut #feyd rautha smut #dune part 2 #dune part two #dune 2 #austin butler #peggysuave fanfics #peggysuave;relic

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clairescotcoutts · 2 months ago

Text

So, about The Veilguard.

This post is:

Long.

Spoiler full.

Read at your peril.

So.

The fact that I devoured the game in virtually less than three days should speak for itself; I was worried about the playing style, I was unsure about the combo system, and having only two companions travel alongside the MC felt a little alien to me and also added to my anxiety. (Yes, I’ve played Mass Effect, yes, I’ve been in a fighting trio before, but never in Dragon Age.) I thought, “There’s only three of us?! We’re gonna die so much and so hard.”

Turns out I didn’t die so many times as I’d expected, so yay me.

I had refused to watch anything that had to do with the plot, with the exception of the trailers, because I wanted my experience to be fresh and untainted by expectations. Of course, I had hopes — but other than that, I dove in blind and without any sense of direction.

As you know, the depths of the ocean hold both horror and beauty, so here are mine; I shall start with the horrors so all the bad air is cleared out first.

My primary horror is that, save a few points, the game very clearly follows BioWare’s own canon, in which the Hero of Ferelden must have died to stop the Fifth Blight, and thus there is no Kieran. Morrigan plays a pivotal role yet again, but her presence implies that the decisions made in previous games are… well, your own, but not the world’s own. So, no Kieran, and it is heavily suggested that it was Morrigan who drank from the Vir’Abelasan. Even if she hadn’t, turns out she ends up with a piece of Mythal inside her anyway, granted by a regretful (and finally gone) Flemeth.

Story-telling wise, well, I don’t know if it was the best choice— I just know it bummed me out a bit to find some of my decisions discarded, not considered at all.

My second horror is the absence of either Hawke or Stroud. The events at Amaranthine are mentioned, but (unless I missed a codex entry) there’s no word on what happened to the brave soul left in the Fade to fight that giant monster demon. Since I always leave Stroud behind (because Alistair is and always will be a king to me), I can’t say I’m suffering to know his fate, but it would’ve been nice to confirm something.

At the end of Inquisition, Morrigan narrates that should Hawke live, they go to Weisshaupt, but soon all news from there ends. What happened?! Am I missing something found only in the comics or books?

Also what happened to the rest of the companions? What about the woman made Divine in Inquisition? Whether it’s Leliana, Cassandra or Vivienne, you’d think the Divine would have something to say about two ancient elven gods turning the world tits up.

What about the Qunari who are not part of the Antaam? Are they in agreement with Elgar’nan and Ghilan’nain? Is Seheron torn asunder like Minrathous?

Why is nobody remarking on the fact that the Crows buy (or used to buy) people?! I love the Antivan Crows, I do, but one cannot forget Zevran and all he told us about them.

Those are my particular points of horror.

Now, to the rest.

Veilguard is a game that doesn’t hold back. It’s out to punch you in the guts and kick you in the feelings, and boy does it do it brilliantly. The sacrifices are real. The choices are heavy and carry weight on them that slumps you down (especially if you’re extra sensitive, like me) throughout the game. The dilemma and problems your companions face are heart wrenching, and you want them all to thrive. Yes, even the one who was hardened because you can’t bloody be in two places at once. These companions are well fleshed-out, they’re alive, they’re complex and they are so beautiful to live and travel with. The emotional moments they have, I felt them, I suffered with them, I cried. I /cried/, which had never happened to me with a videogame before. And not just because this companion is my favourite or that topic hits a bit close to home— not just that. It’s because they’re amazingly written and acted out. They feel so real.

The locations are gorgeous (I especially fell in love with Treviso), and I love how much you’re able to explore. I love that you can pet animals. I love that you can interact with the world in front of you. I /love/ that you don't miss dialogue even if you get into a fight because the companions re-start conversations now.

The NPCs? My children. Isabela is fire, as always; Antoine, Evka, Viago and Teia have my whole heart. The Mourn Watch is fascinating and the Shadow Dragons are bold, united and righteous. I really like that the Veil Jumpers don’t diss on the Dalish just because they know more— they understand that, as a people, they are one. And they’re accepting of everyone, not just elves!

I simply adore Rook as a protagonist. Not just because they give purple Hawke, and I love Hawke, but because again, they feel human and real. They know this is well above their paygrade, and they’re in way over their heads, but they still step up and lead because damn, someone has to. Iron Bull would be so proud. They are fun, they are caring, they are talkative and they know they’re drowning, but can’t afford to stop swimming.

Both in Origins and Inquisition it felt as though we were The Chosen One, even if in the latter one tried to swear it off and deny any possible divine intervention, but in DA: 2 and here, we are just people trying their best with the worst circumstances, and to me, that’s beautiful. Rook is a delightful protagonist.

The game allows you to choose who you’re going to be and /how/ you’re going to be thus. You can be cis, you can be trans, you can be neither and you can be both. No limits now.

Which leads me to another point I simply adored: how the questions of gender are treated. It’s really big to have an NB character go through their own acceptance process before our very eyes. While in Origins (and a bit in Inquisition too) you have the choice to be shocked that there are people who like their same gender, this game is Thedas saying “The world is big, the world is complex, and people everywhere are not defined by your expectations or rules. It’s not even an option. Deal with it.”

Regarding the magic, I’m not even mad it looks and feels different. After all, Dorian used to say that “the South is so charming and rustic”, and now I see that’s because what he saw in Ferelden and Orlais was not what he is used to. Even in Absolution we see that the way Tevinter used magic is distinctly unique and not how it is done south of Arlathan. I understand it. I like it. It’s not as if there had been no changes in the designs of demons and darkspawn before, and now that’s what they look like. It’s fine. Time has passed and people are allowed to make different creative choices.

Now, to Solas… Solas. Oh, Solas. I understand you so much better now.

Veilguard really helps put into perspective some bits of dialogue from previous games. Why does this 8-ball care so much about spirits and the Fade? Gods, because he /is/ them, and the Fade used to be his home. Every time he has to hear that spirits are monsters or unreal he takes it personally, and how could he not? People are saying he’s a monster, he’s not real, and nobody knows any better because they wouldn’t believe him anyway. Now I understand why he gets so worked up if you make Cole more human—you’re doing to him what Mythal did to Solas himself. You’re forcing him to be something else and Solas knows it hurts. (Also, Cole is happier as a spirit— “Thank you for helping me find this again. For believing in me. You don't know what it means”, he says, and now it hits so differently.)

I have to remark on some things I’ve read that have shocked me— first of all being the interpretation of Solas and Mythal’s relationship. Like Taash, you can assume “they were doing it”, however, I don’t think they ever loved each other like that. Their bond, to me, is that of a queen and her most loyal knight, a “king and lionheart” sort of situation if you will. Solas knows her better than anyone else, certainly, but the way I see it, that right there is his commander, inspiration and also, his heaviest shackle.

Their relationship merits another post altogether, I believe, as does Solas and Lavellan’s.

All in all, the good, to me, far outweights the bad.

Give the Veilguard a chance before you discard them, enjoy the appearance of some of the characters you love, enjoy getting to know the new heroes. Give yourself the option of having an informed opinion before you love or hate.

Also, petition for Solas to let his hair grow out again.

That's it, for now.

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liquidorcard · 19 days ago

Text

Okay, to the anon who sent me the breakdown of what happened to Liquid Lily:

Thank you for the write up. I do appreciate you filling me in. But I'm going to use this as a chance to address the ground rules of how we address Courtney going forwards on this blog.

Let me be perfectly clear here:

Courtney's behavior as of late has been very upsetting. To me, to many of you, yes. I have very much privately expressed my own thoughts, feelings and frustrations on the matter in more private settings. There's no sneaky shade here, everything I've said I'd be more than willing to say to her face. I'll send her screenshots myself of everything I've said if she so requests it. I'm not here to gossip and bitch and not stand by it when confronted.

And Courtney on the off chance you're reading this, on the off chance you give a shit what I think of you and want to hash it out, my DMs are still as open to you as they have ever been. I'm not going to be brow-beaten because you don't agree with my perspective on things, I'm not interested in a pointless back and forth, but any concern you have with my presence in this cursed space I am always willing to hear you out on. The offer will always be there if you want me to signal boost something you want out there, of what little I can. It doesn't have to be a whole thing.

I'm also not going to wag my finger and tisk tisk on anyone else sharing their thoughts on Courtney's behavior. Nor do I want anyone to think I'm implying Courtney deserves to be coddled and babied because she's too fragile to handle people criticizing her.

With all that said. . .

Courtney will remain a no-poop-touching subject here on this blog. Obviously, she exists, bring her up when relevant, but we are going to refrain from name-calling and casting judgment. We are not making jokes now at Courtney's expense. We are not psychoanalizing her, speculating, making a circus side show. I will bring her up or respond to asks aboit her if I feel it's appropriate, relevant, or necessary.

Here's the thing gents:

Courtney and I have had some very similar life experiences. I'm not going to pretend to know her whole truth or suggest I'm an authority on her because of that, but. I know for me, having gone through what I did didn't help me become the most pleasant person on God's green earth either.

I never intended to hurt anyone, but I did. I have. I am very aware I have the capacity to do so again if I don't keep myself in check. I take full responsibility for the ways I have absolutely set bonds with friends, family and lovers on fire before. I hate it, I feel the full weight of that guilt to this day, but it's better to accept it and do what I have to to be better than pretend I'm a Saint. I've been told by people in flesh space and online how much they appreciate how "level-headed" I am. There isn't any kind of trickery afoot, I learned the hard way one too many times the cost of me not managing myself appropriately. I've put in the work to learn, and even then it's not like there's zero chance I won't eat shit and have a public meltdown caught in 4k. I hope that doesn't happen, lord knows I'm doing what I can to mitigate that risk-- but if it does all I can do is take the L and try to do what I can to fix it. I'm always hopeful the people in my life will forgive me-- and I'm thankful most do. But some don't, and I understand why. Some do, but it's better for both of us if we give each other a wide birth. Being a big boy do be like that sometimes.

And to be frank, if my abuser became an internet lolcow you couldn't fucking pay me to engage or come forwards. All of Lily's known victims are much braver than me. There's always going to be this extremely isolating disconnect when it comes to passive observers engaging with your abusers shitty behavior and you. The deep, crippling, profound panic and imminent sense of heightened danger is never going to feel the same. You might as well be on a different fucking planet, no matter how empathetic or accommodating they are. I can all but 100% garentee the histrionic way I'd be acting wouldn't paint me in a flattering light either.

I've heard some concerning information on some of the things that might be going on in Courtney's life right now. I trust the source it came from but have no way to verify if it's true. If Courtney publically confirms it I'll consider adding my two cents, having had lots of experience with what may be going on. Not that it justifies her actions, again, just very much contextualizes it.

I will say, I do think the sentiment of Courtney's frustration is more than valid-- I just think she made a lot of very poor decisions in who she directed those feelings at, then escalated things far beyond reason. I also empathize with her frustration over everyone and their mom telling her to log off because she's having an episode. I can tell you from my experience I would not respond well to anyone but a very close, trusted person in my life telling me that regardless of whether or not it was true. I've also seen plenty of OTHER dickweeds call Courtney "damaged goods" and the like all over the internet so I really don't blame her for shadowboxing ghosts now over it. You know who you are.

Being a victim doesn't make you incapable of harm or absolve you of personal responsibility. Lily's the fucking poster child for that.

The thing is, within reason, I believe in giving people a healthy amount of space to be messy bitches. Glass houses. It's one thing for me to comment on Courtney somewhere where there's little to no chance people will see it without context, it's totally different for me to put it out there in a space anyone can see it without knowing what went down.

Anon, I'm not scolding you, but I'm going to ask you be careful where and how you describe Courtney in the future publically. The last thing she needs is for more people to treat her like her trauma isn't relevant-- and unfortunately people routinely do expect victims to be perfect little angels. I'm not going to risk putting Courtney in the line of fire for that kind of behavior.

Thank you for your understanding.

#lily orchard #lily orchard critical #anti lily orchard #lily peet #lily orchard stuff #lorch posting #youtube #eldritch lily #liquid orcard #courtney orchard #courtney peet

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funhouse-mirror-barbie · 6 months ago

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My problem with Sallie May—a discussion of representation:

There’s been some discourse around Sallie May lately that’s gotten me thinking more about her. Not really as a character, but what her purpose is in the narrative and how she’s treated by the fandom and the show’s creators.

Sallie May is an interesting case study in representation without depth, and I wanted to talk a little more about what that means.

OPINION DISCLAIMER—I’m gonna be talking about how I personally view lgbtq+ and queer representation and what I consider to be well-rounded representation vs. empty or shallow representation.

Also. I am only one member of the queer community—I don’t speak for all lgbtq+ people, and I am DEFINITELY NOT trying to talk over other’s experiences. My opinions are my own, and if you agree with me, cool! And if you don’t agree with me, that’s great too!!

Also also. I don’t think I should have to say this but, this is NOT a personal attack on ANYONE involved w/i the production and creation of Helluva Boss. This is my own analysis, b/c I like to talk about media and the ways we interact with and interpret it.

So, with all of that out of the way, if you’re interested in my analysis, let’s talk about Sallie May!! (TLDR @ end of post)

First do want to make it clear that my issue is not actually with her like…existing. Or with her general characterization. Mostly because, even with Hell’s Belles, she still doesn’t really have a very strong characterization to begin with, and isn’t a fully-fleshed out character.

In her initial appearance she was a bit-character, bordering on just being a straight up background character. She had three lines in her debut (and to date, ONLY) appearance in the show proper.

Until Hell’s Belles we knew next to nothing about her other than that she likes violence and also that she has a neighborhood body count? Which. I don’t know if they were trying to imply that she’s a serial killer, I doubt that was the intent. Or maybe they were. I can’t know.

Regardless, I honestly believe they didn’t really think the implications of that writing decision through at all. There’s a very real and very harmful “trans serial killer/murderer” trope in media, and while the impact is definitely lessened by the vast majority of HB characters being violent murderers—it still feels weird having the only trans character we’ve seen at this point be literally INTRODUCED to the audience by the fact that she’s a murderer, and to then be given NO further information on her.

Luckily, we DID get more information about Sallie, even if it was still very little and surface level. In Hell’s Belles we learn that Sallie May and Millie used to be a lot closer, and that Sallie May felt left behind when Millie moved to the big city.

In the short, Sallie May expresses her frustration with having to pick up the slack around their family’s ranch, and that she’s been lonely without Millie there. Millie and Sally have a little heart to heart and are able to make up, and the short ends.

This is a nice little piece of backstory, and does give us slightly more insight into Sallie May and what her life is like, but because the episode is a short, we still really don’t get to know her as a person.

Like Millie, Sallie May doesn’t have any real depth. We only know starter information about her, like that she cares about her family, and that she’s violent.

But unlike Millie, Sallie May is a minor character. She has (at the time of my writing this) appeared in ONE episode of the actual show, and one short. She is a minor character, and the ONLY transgender character in the show with a name and lines.

So. Okay. Why does literally any of that matter??? Who cares if Sallie May is an under-developed minor background character??

Well, in my opinion, it matters because the show-runners frame and treat Sallie May as if she is a main character, without actually writing her—or any trans character for that matter—as a main character.

This really rubs me the wrong way, because it comes across as tokenism.

In my opinion since she was introduced, Sallie May has become a token transgender character—an excuse for the HB writers to not write or develop more transgender, nonbinary, and gender diverse characters and stories, because they already have one.

I worry that, if anyone rightfully points out that HB is severely lacking in gender-diverse characters and storylines, the creators and fandom will point to Sallie May as “proof” that they do have representation.

If HB is as radically queer and LGBTQ+ friendly as it claims to be, why do we only have ONE named trans character in the show’s 5 years of existence?

Due to all of the above, I find I can’t agree with people who praise the show for its representation, because of how stunted it is. I just don’t think I, or anyone, should have to read sources outside of the narrative to learn important parts of a character’s identity.

I feel this very deeply as a lesbian and nonbinary person—I understand that most of the women characters in Helluva Boss are sapphic, but I ONLY know that because of the HB Pride Print that came out just this year. I have not actually gotten to SEE any of these character’s sexualities fully represented, and it’s because of this that I struggle to see myself represented in HB in any way.

I do need to clarify that what I am NOT SAYING is that no one can feel represented by Sallie May, or that if they do, they’ve been tricked somehow by writers into thinking they got more representation than they actually did.

Sallie May is a very popular character, and because of that I honestly would like to see more of her. I want to see more of her because she’s the only trans character on the show, and I want her to be properly developed.

I talked previously about how I enjoyed Hell’s Belles, but wished we had gotten to see more of Sallie and Millie’s relationship in the actual show. Their relationship has a lot of potential to show the unique ways in which siblings interact and navigate conflict, but we only got to see a few seconds of them interacting in Sallie’s debut. The short gives us an idea of what Sallie’s personality is like, but it’s so brief that I still don’t feel like we really KNOW her on a deeper level.

To me, three lines + one short with a brief backstory doesn’t feel like the sort of amazing representation that fans of the show laud Helluva Boss for.

As a series that often boasts about its queer and trans rep and inclusivity, I can’t help but feel like Sallie May should either have been a main character from the very beginning, or that she shouldn’t have been trotted out like some sort of bastion of trans representation, when the only indication she is trans is her horns/white roots.

And yes. As a genderqueer gay I KNOW that it can be extremely tiring to have all of our stories revolve around our struggles and ONLY be about being LGBTQ+. I also want to see a variety of stories about queer people like me going on adventures and getting to do things that don’t revolve around our struggles. But I also want to still actually see myself represented.

Not just know outside the story that, “oh that character is nonbinary, but it will not be mentioned in the narrative in any way and will not ever be important in the context of this character I’m supposed to see myself in.”

Madeline Maye talked about this specifically in her critique of Helluva Boss, and her pointing this out was kind of what made me realize that, yeah. Anyone watching Helluva Boss for the first time would probably have NO IDEA that Sallie Mae is a transgender woman.

It also made me realize that the only reason I knew that Sallie May was trans was because her VA, Morgana Ignis, who is also a trans woman, tweeted about it, and the official Helluva Boss Twitter retweeted it.

The original tweet is hidden now (Ignis has since left Twitter—idk why, I genuinely hope it wasn’t due to harassment—that’s never okay) but I was able to confirm that this was the case based on the HB wiki, and the official HB’s retweet still being up:

The only confirmation we’ve ever had that Sallie May is transgender has been outside of the show—either from social media Q&As and the show’s wiki or merch—

Sallie May has a LOT of merch. Like a lot, this isn’t even all of it. And yes, SOME of the merch is from the recently released “Hell’s Belles” short, but the vast majority of it is from the 3 years since her initial introduction.

The vast majority of it is also highly sexualized, and highlights Sallie’s penis through her swimsuit. Now, I’m aware that Morgana Ignis requested this, and I honestly don’t have too much of an opinion on it. I’m not a trans woman, and I’ve seen multiple opinions from trans women on this design choice for Sally’s merch. I’ve seen some trans women say that they liked and felt represented by this choice, and some say that they felt objectified and that it made them dysphoric. This is one of those situations where I don’t think everyone can be pleased—like I said at the beginning of this post, LGBTQ+ people are as diverse in their opinions as we are in our identities and self-expression, and I think everyone’s feelings regarding Sallie’s portrayals in the merch are valid.

I bring it up because, other than the wiki explaining that Sallie May has “male horns”, this is the only other way to confirm that Sally is trans, as it is never acknowledged in the story. I bring it up because I don’t think merch should be the only way an LGBTQ character’s identity is validated.

I assume that all of Sallie Mae’s merch is because of her popularity, but I also can’t help but wonder if this has contributed to the impression that Sallie is a main character, when, in the narrative so far, she is still a minor one.

I don’t believe that when she was originally created to be a “token trans” character, but since her introduction, there have not been any main characters that are transgender, nonbinary, or genderqueer.

We’ve only had one other trans character with a speaking role—this imp:

Who is FTM. He seems to know Blitz from a while back, and talks Blitz into staying at the party. Then he watches him drunkenly make out with random people with another (I assume) trans imp who is probably MTF:

(Also—as an aside, this scene kinda bothers me?? I don’t THINK this was the intention at all, but having a VERY CLEARLY drunk off of his ass Blitz, who can’t meaningfully consent at this time, being watched, and almost like…leered at by two of the only visibly trans characters in the show…it feels gross. Like why are two of the only other confirmed trans characters voyeuristically watching a drunk man who can’t consent making out? It would be one thing if we had a story full of different trans characters who acted in all sorts of different ways, but at this time these two are 2/3rds of the show’s ENTIRE trans rep. With the other 1/3rd being introduced to us as a serial killer. Like. Guys. What is it that you’re trying to say?)

Apparently Sallie May’s VA has stated the below on Social Media, and stated that there’s a lot more coming for Sallie May in the future. And that’s great!!! I really really want to believe that.

But I look at the above and can’t help but wonder…if this is the case, why did it take three years for her to get another appearance? In just a short? Why wasn’t she given more focus and importance from the very beginning, in her introductory episode? If her original appearance wasn’t representative of her and Millie’s relationship then why did they even write it that way???

I want to believe all of the above—that Sallie May actually WILL get to become a main character. But I look at the way she’s been barely portrayed, and the way that she’s basically been used to just sell merch, and it makes me sad.

I would love to see more of her, more of any trans characters that aren’t 2 second background characters, but I honestly have a hard time believing we ever will when the episodes take as long as the do to come out, and the when the episodes focus so heavily on shipping pre-existing pairings.

As a lesbian, I would love to see Sallie May get a girlfriend, but given Spindlehorse’s track record with lackluster sapphic pairings and representation, I don’t have much hope of seeing that either.

I just. If you managed to get all the way through this heinously long post, thank you for reading. If you didn’t, that’s very fair (lol) and I’ve got the tldr for you here—

TLDR:

—My issue with Sallie May is not actually with Sallie May at all. It’s with the fact that we don’t get enough of Sallie May, or any trans characters, for that matter.

—You can, of course, feel represented by any character, but I think it’s important to ask yourself how you are being represented, and if you are actually being represented.

—Not every queer/trans/lgbt story has to explicitly be about being queer. The stories in which we are represented should be as diverse and vibrant as all the members of our community. But, I still want to actually be able to tell and to see that the characters are lgbtq+. If a character is a lesbian or sapphic, I want to see her show an interest in other women. If a character is transgender I want to see that acknowledged by the narrative, whether it’s the character mentioning their transition or just saying they’re trans. I want to SEE myself and other queer identities. Not just know that they’re there.

#helluva boss critical #helluva boss criticism #helluva boss critique #helluva boss critic #representation #queer representation #queer rep in media #funhouse convo #media criticism #media critique #queer representation in media #my worst fear is that people will see this—go ‘HEY SALLIE MAY IS GREAT REP!!! WHY DO YOU HATE HER???’#and completely ignore the MULTIPLE times I explicitly said that the issue was that we don’t get enough of Sallie May #that she’s a minor character that is treated as a main character by the fandom and show #and that that could potentially hinder us getting more of her or of any trans characters for that matter #and that I WANT TO SEE MORE OF HER AND WANT TO SEE HER DEVELOPED

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apomaro-mellow · 2 years ago

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okay yall convinced me to continue this

Eddie looked around and all he saw was black. Was this what death was like? He expected more people. But maybe death was just solitude. Then all of a sudden he wasn't alone.

He jumped back when he came face to face with, himself.

"What the fuck?"

His mirror image looked back and smirked. Then looked down at his hands.

"Finally."

"What the hell is going on here? Where am I? W-we?"

"Vecna is putting us back together. We can see everyone again soon."

"You mean...I'm not dead?"

"Oh we're very much alive. In fact, I'd say we're better than before."

As his mirror said that, Eddie felt a new energy thrumming in his veins.

"Why? Why would Vecna do this, I was tryina kill that bastard!"

"He wants something in return. To use us against them."

"Like hell that's gonna happen. I-"

"Didn't let myself get chomped on just so I could be used by an actual murderer."

"How did you-"

"Is it not obvious? I'm still you. But I'm the parts he wants to use. The part that's afraid of Vecna. Afraid of the world for seeing us for what we are. And angry at our lot in life. And ashamed for how we feel."

Eddie didn't respond. It was all a lot to take in. When his other self mentioned shame for feeling something, a certain face popped into his head.

"We're going to see him again. And this time, I'm going to take what I want."

"You put a hand on him and-" Eddie stopped himself. Not only did he feel pretty powerless here, he was never that good at restraining his own actions. "You touch him and he'll kick your ass."

---------------------

After his little stunt, Eddie/Kas found themselves tied up again, this time in Steve's garage. And this time with chains (duct tape boys? really?). Nancy also made sure his legs were chained to the chair and had a shotgun trained on him the whole time they talked.

"We're all sure he's real?", she asked, nudging his cheek with her barrel. She was the only one here to actually experience Vecna's illusions besides Max. She knew how convincing they could be.

"He's real", Jonathan said, a lighter ready just in case. "Steve and the others said so."

Nancy rifled through all the information she got when she received the code red. Something that looked like Eddie had returned. But it was very obviously NOT Eddie. Stronger, faster, more durable. And apparently was receiving orders directly from Vecna. He also apparently had a craving for flesh, having busted into the meat locker of a deli before being found.

"What's your game this time? Use our friend's face to trick us?", she questioned.

"Heh, it really warms our heart that you call us 'friend'. Guess quality time over quantity, huh?" He was smiling, like none of this was a threat to him. Knowing creatures of the Upside Down, it would take more than one bullet, but Nancy had plenty.

"I believe I laid down my terms with the others pretty clearly. I'll follow your rules, so long as Steve is the one to watch me."

"Why Steve?", Jonathan asked.

Kas grinned at him. "Steve's my favorite."

"Oh my god, shut up, shut up, shut up", Eddie lamented from their shared mental space.

While Nancy and Jonathan were handling that situation in the garage, Steve was trying to get a grip on what was happening in his house. They were practically running up the walls.

"Steve you don't understand!", Dustin exclaimed. "This is huge!"

"I don't see how a monster posing as Eddie is huge?"

"But they're not just posing. It IS Eddie", Mike said.

"We don't know that. Not until Nancy confirms it."

Will rolled his eyes. "Oh like she'd know. She talked to Eddie for what? A day?"

"Cut the sass. And if you can talk, you can move your hands." Steve handed Will the knife and pushed some peppers his way.

"The point is WE, you know the people who actually hung out with Eddie would know him better. We should be the ones interrogating him", Lucas said, actually doing his duty of buttering a casserole dish.

"The other point is we don't NEED to question him because we already know that it's actually Eddie", Dustin said. "Vecna wouldn't know who Kas is. Eddie's in there. And he's telling us that he's on our side."

"You remember what Max told us, right? Vecna gets in your head. He sees what you see, knows what you know." Steve took the dish from Lucas and poured some rice into it. "If he got to Eddie, then he knows what Eddie knows." When Will finished dicing, Steve took the knife and was about to wash it under running water when he heard someone approach.

"Is Mama Steve making dinner?"

Steve reacted first and thought second and the knife flew threw the air. Kas caught it easily and twirled the knife in his hand.

"Nice aim. Lemme guess, little league?"

Nancy and Jonathan were right behind him. Steve wanted to respond. Maybe ask 'what the hell? why isn't he tied up? Nancy where's your gun?' But the kids got to it first.

"Tell us everything!" Mike demanded.

Dustin started rallying off questions. "Are you actually Eddie? Just enhanced? Or like a split personality? Is it one that came naturally or one Vecna implanted? Is Eddie like inside of you? Can he come out?"

"All in due time", Kas said, walking by them all to get to Steve, who once again looked like a deer with a car coming straight on.

"We struck a deal, princess. Looks like we're roomies."

There was still at least a foot separating them yet Steve felt boxed in. It was the same sensation he got whenever Eddie talked to him and only him, but intensified.

"Umm, hope you like chicken and rice?"

Internally, Eddie was falling to his knees. Steve's cooking, Steve in the process of cooking, with his little chickadees orbiting him. It was a domestic scene too much for his pining heart and he was actually glad right now that he wasn't holding the reins. Falling to his knees for chicken and rice wasn't the best look for a metalhead.

"Eddie would love some", Kas said cooly.

--------------------------

Dinner was an odd affair. All of them trying to figure out Kas in their own way. Dustin and Mike with their blatant questions, Lucas telling them to cool it, Nancy with her more subtle line of questioning, Will trying to see if he could feel anything, and Jonathan trying to see if Will was effected.

Steve was the only one pointedly trying to ignore the man which was very difficult given that he was doing everything in his power to get his attention. His favorite move seemed to be nudging Steve's foot with his own, causing Steve to bump his knee against the table at least three times.

Eddie wanted to roll into a hole and die. He especially wanted to do so when Kas started eyeing Steve's leg, because he knew what was coming.

"No, absolutely not. He let you get away with this much. But he will rip of your hand for this", Eddie said.

"I think he'd let us get away with much more." So Kas went ahead and put his hand on Steve's thigh, making him jolt up from his chair.

So yeah, quite the interesting dinner.

After eating, they figured out a rotation schedule for watching him. Technically Steve was only on the schedule for six hours a day. But considering Kas would be at his house the entire time, they'd be spending a lot more time together.

The rest of them were getting ready to leave so that they could check in with the others, but Nancy hung back to talk to Steve semi-privately.

"Are you sure you'll be okay?"

Steve glanced at the mysterious figure that was masquerading as Eddie, who was openly leering at him while ignoring the children.

"I'll be..uh, I can hang in there Nance, don't worry."

Then everyone else left, leaving the two of them alone. Steve felt a little like caged prey. But he also felt like this version of Eddie wouldn't hurt him. Not physically at least. But that left other things to do to him and Steve was afraid to go down that rabbit hole of possibilities.

"It's just you and me, Steve."

Part 3A More plotty, fluffy, bit of angst

Part 3B Less plotty, more smutty

Tag team:

@jestyzesty

@mightbeasleep

@findafight

@spooky-mulders

#apo writes #stranger things #fanfiction #steddie #kas!eddie #the party #yall are a pretty convincing crowd #just went ahead and tagged peeps who seemed interested #hope that was okay

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rainstormfrost · 4 months ago

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Sometimes I think... What if Willow was not a canon character? What if she appeared only in some fanfic on AO3, how people would feel about her?

I mean, she has pattern of standard Mary Sue from some fan fiction. Lemme explain.

Firstly, she is strong. Even stronger than Emperor's Coven scouts, who've been, I'm reminding, harshly trained for years and have a lot of experience. But Willow just beats them like it's nothing for her.

Meanwhile, there is no clear reason for her to be so strong. All creator says is «she is talented and trains a lot», but... Willow has started training after the Grugby episode from season 1. That means she's been training only for two or one month. I'm not an expert but I think you can't get so much strength by that little time.

Well, okay, we can assume that Willow started doing Flyer Derby specifically after the Grugby episode. Maybe she was training even before that, but... It's still a shitty argument. I have some friends who've been training for many years and I can say they can't defeat a trained soldier. After all, a soldier knows special techniques and special fight skills. Scouts in EC can use any kind of magic, so they MUST learn every of nine tracks magic. So, how do you think, can a schoolgirl-plant-witch defeat a trained soldier with an experience.

Secondly, Hunter's character after meeting Willow. Hunter was positioned (before «Any sports in a storm») as a goofy, strong, confident person, but then we know him as a traumatized, apathetic and lost character who needs someone to help him to get out from toxic influence of his «uncle».

But what he's becomed after meeting Willow? He became a poor little boy who needs hugs and comfort 🥺🥺🥺. After joining the Hexsquad Hunter lost most of his power, he sometimes becomes a damsel in distress so Willow can save her little meow meow.

Please, separate a traumatize character who needs help and spirit mentor from a poor little thing who need comfort. Hunter is not the first thing. He is the second.

I know, this is kinda not Willow's problem as a character, but just imagine if all episodes after ASIAS were just a fanfic. How would you feel if a strong and mean character (Hunter) became a weakling who needs help from his girlboss?

Thirdly, cliche. I don't think Willow's story is bad, but I must admit it's kinda unoriginal. She has a standard Y/N storyline. «Poor girl was bullied, but then she discovered her true power and became stronger than her bullies». Where have we seen that? Well, practically in every fanfic.

What do we have in result?

Willow is somehow stronger that trained soldiers.

A strong and complex character became a total mess and crybaby because of interactions with her.

She has a quiet standard backstory.

I'm pretty sure: if Park was a fan character she would've been hated by everyone. We would've seen a lot of angry posts about little girls spoiling canon character's personality for their own fantasies.

But why the canon character with such traits is considered as something good?

UPD: It gets more sad for me, because I read fanfics and have my own TOH fan characters. I saw a lot of good, fleshed out and deep OC, but they was branded as Mary Sues because they was smart and powerful. Must specify, but all, these powers were explained, so characters wasn't skilled out of nowhere. I'm trying to make my own characters as realistic as I can. I paranoidly make a lot of flaws to my OCs so they can't become Sues. But then I see canon TOH characters and think: does it worth it? Why am I trying if I know that all of the canons are overpowered without any explanation?

#the owl house #toh criticism #toh critical #willow toh #willow park #toh characters are mary sue #i don't know why people love this dang show

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almighty-letu · 2 months ago

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Day 6 Aleheather Week 2024

Day six, November 16th - Loyalty/Insecurity Create something that in some way shows Aleheather's loyalty to each other AND/OR their insecurities.

I decided to go with both with a little bit of my own spin in this. I always wanted to learn more about Heather's past in the show, and I always wondered how Alejandro would react to that. This is that story fully realized. Hope you enjoy!

Alejandro was precisely the type of guy that once used to be way out of Heather’s league.

Back when she was fat, pimply, and ugly; Alejandro would’ve never had taken a second glance at her. She knew his type way too well. He is a womanizer. A playboy. A casa nova - the type of guy who likes to toy with girls’ feelings just because he can and then make a fool out of them as a lesson for being so stupid and vulnerable in the first place.

Of course, Heather was not like that anymore. She’d evolved and become better for it. She was proud and confident of the fact she’s gorgeous nowadays, but the wounds ran far too deep and still stung.

Maybe that’s why she was so cautious and reserved around him when he was first introduced in the show. Heather caught on from personal experience the type of danger he poses and was quick to target him as a threat. And though Heather tried to resist his charms at first, she, just like every other girl, fell for him. And Heather hated herself for it. Hated the fact she was no better than anyone else.

Still, she could come out on top and say she accomplished the one thing every other girl can only dream of.

Heather bested Alejandro.

She beat him at his own game.

Heather took him down.

She gave Alejandro a taste of his own medicine.

Heather tamed him.

In his own words atop the volcano, somehow, she managed to steal his heart and win him over. Alejandro was hers and no one else's.

In a movie this would be the big defining moment for her. The ugly duckling becomes a swan and gets the guy in the end. But how can she ever lower her guard around him knowing his past tendencies? Knowing deep down inside what she really is? If Alejandro ever found out about her he’d be disgusted by her for sure. In that sense, though they were officially in a relationship, she took it with a giant grain of salt knowing he would never accept her for who she is.

And that’s fine by her.

Heather would rather be known as the mean hot villainess of the show than the ugly loser she once used to be.

Or at least, she thought she was.

The two of them held hands as they walked along the street together, Alejandro chatting her ears off, when they were approached by a fan.

“Oh my gosh! Heather? Heather from Total Drama?” The girl ducked in front of them, halting their path with a wide goofy grin on her face. Heather raised an eyebrow, cautiously leaning closer to Alejandro

“Yeah? Who’s asking?”

“Heather, I am your biggest fan ever! It’s such an honor to meet you in the flesh.” The fan gushed. “Can I have your autograph please?”

Heather rolled her eyes. “Yeah, sure, whatever. Let’s just get this over with.” She took the photograph from the fan and froze. Eyes wide and hands trembling. The picture the fan handed to her to sign was a picture of Heather back in middle school. Back before she had her glow up phase… back when she was short, ugly, fat, and all things hideous. “Where… did you get this?” She said slowly, trembling with anger.

“You like it? It took a pretty penny to get it from your school’s yearbook for my weight loss blog. Let me tell you, you are such an icon!” The fan blabbed on enthusiastically. “I look up to you so much! You are truly an inspiration for all of us. You're hardly recognizable! If I didn’t have confirmation no one would hardly know it was you.”

Heather balled her fists in anger, ready to murder the puny girl right here, right now.

“What’s this?” Alejandro blinked down from over her shoulder, getting a glimpse of the photo in her hands.

“N-no, it’s nothing!” Heather crushed the picture too little too late.

“Is that really you?” Alejandro asked softly.

Heather’s breath quickened, her heart racing as she started to panic. “I- no- I’m just-”

“It totally is!” The fan cut in. “Heather used to look totally different back in the day, and now look at her! Truly an icon.”

She couldn’t take it anymore. Heather dropped the picture and bolted. “Heather!” She heard Alejandro call out to her but she didn’t dare look back. She ran away blindly, shoving her way through the crowd to find someplace safe to be away from all the prying eyes staring accusingly in her direction. Trees and buildings blurred past her until Heather arrived at a park. She came to a slow halt near the lake, panting to catch her breath, limbs still shaking.

She dragged herself to sit on the nearby bench, hunched over as she fiddled nervously with her hands. Heather’s heart was racing a mile per second. She couldn’t breathe properly. Her stomach coiled and hurt.

Great. She sniffled, hating how weak and puny she’d become. It’s over between us. Alejandro will never look at my face the same way again. She buried her face into her hands with a sigh, trying to calm down and process her emotions like her therapist suggested.

Soft footfalls crushing on grass drew her attention. A shadow towered over her.

“Heather?” Alejandro called out softly, trying not to set her off again. “Are you alright?”

Heather laughed bitterly. “Does it look like I’m alright?”

Alejandro sat down beside her on the bench. “Okay. That was a stupid question. My bad.” He stared at her worriedly. Slowly he pulled out the crumpled picture from his back pocket, staring at it intently. “So… about this?”

Heather groaned, slouching on the bench with a deep seated sigh through her nose, hands still covering most of her face.

“I had no idea you used to look so different.” Alejandro commented, his voice calm. “You’ve made quite the change for yourself. It’s impressive! Really. That girl back there was right about one thing; you should be proud of how far you’ve come.”

“If you are here to give me the breakup pep talk, I’d rather you spare me the embarrassment and leave me alone, Alejandro.” Heather muttered, still not looking at him.

Alejandro blinked. “Breakup? What are you talking about?”

“Do I really have to spell it out for you?” Heather hissed, dragging her hands down her face. Her eyes are puffy and red. “I am not who you thought I was, okay? Turns out the hot mean girl you’ve been dating was once a sad, pathetic, ugly loser. Does that hurt your ego? Knowing you gave someone like me time of day?”

Alejandro frowned. “I wish you’d been honest with me from the start.”

“Oh I am so sorry for wasting your time - you’re right! All girls should come with warning labels and full history for your convenience. WARNING: Once used braces.” Heather spat sarcastically. “How dare us!”

“Please let me finish.” Alejandro placed a gentle palm on her shoulder. “I wish you’d been honest with me from the start, but I can see how deeply upsetting the topic is for you so I don’t fault you at all for keeping this from me. This clearly means a lot to you.”

“I’m fine!”

“No you’re not. You’re shaking.” Alejandro mildly pointed out.

“If you respect me at all you’ll do as I ask and give me some space.” Heather said.

“Heather, please, I am trying to talk to you.” Alejandro urged. “It’s no surprise the way you are reacting because, well, this is still you we’re talking about here. I know better than anyone else how much your own image means for people like us. But really it’s no reason to be embarrassed.”

“Easy enough for you to say that.” Heather hissed resentfully. “I bet you never struggled a day in your life. Probably had everything handed to you on a silver platter to your beck and call. How would you know anything I’ve gone through?”

“I would if you’d just tell me about it!” Alejandro pressed. “You are so hard on yourself, that you need to be this perfect image of the ideal girl, that you don’t even realize your own self worth.”

“I know my own damn self worth, thank you very much!” Heather snapped, jabbing a finger on his chest. “I worked hard to get to where I am now and I won’t let you or anyone else for that matter undermine that just because of who I used to be.”

“The only one undermining your achievements is you.” Alejandro told her. “And I am not leaving you until we get all those messy feelings out of your system. Now tell me what’s wrong.”

Heather deflated, her pride wounded. “You really wanna know? Fine! The truth is, the only reason I am where I am now is because of the effort I put into changing myself way back in the day. Because ever since kindergarten I was always deemed the ugliest girl in class. The kind boys would confess their feelings to as a prank. The kind they would tell their friends I had a crush on them just to ick them out. When I turned 15 I decided enough was enough and had a glow up and suddenly I went from ugliest girl in class to hottest girl in school.” She said dejectedly. “Everything I have, everything I am and stand for… is because of that one change. I have this life… I have fame… security… and you. Without that glow up, I wouldn’t be… I wouldn’t have… I just-”

“Heather.” Alejandro breathed, squeezing her hand.

“I didn’t want you to find out about me this way. Because let’s not kid ourselves; you are only with me because of who I am at my absolute best.” Heather sobbed. “I am barely worthy of your time otherwise because-” She ripped the picture from his hands, revealing the photo of a chubby ballerina with pimples and braces. “THIS IS WHO I AM!”

Alejandro stared at her. Slowly he reached out and pulled the picture away, staring into Heather’s eyes as he cupped her cheek. “Do you really think I am with you for your looks alone?” He whispered. “Change or no change, you would be this no matter what. I fell in love with you for more than just your beauty. I love your determination. Your resilience. How cunning you are. Even your stubborn nature at times can be so endearing. There’s so much more to you than what you see, and I love every part of it.”

Heather frowned. “You wouldn’t be saying those things if we’d met way back when.” She laughed nervously. “You really think you’d notice me if I were still fat?”

“I don’t see why not.” Alejandro said simply. “It’s just more of you to love.”

“Yeah right!” Heather scoffed, rolling her eyes.

“No really! I know you see me a certain way because of the way I presented myself back in the show, but that was all strategy. I am not so superficial to only judge a book by its cover.” Alejandro reasoned. “You are more than meets the eye, Heather. For what it's worth I am proud of how far you’ve come, but I don’t think you should be embarrassed by your roots. I don’t care if you were chubby or pimply or wore braces. That doesn’t change the way I feel about you.”

Heather lowered her hands, sniffling.

“Oh! Here.” Alejandro rummaged through his pocket and pulled his phone out. He tinkered with it for a few heartbeats before he handed it to her. “Take a look at this.”

Heather leaned closer, her eyes widening. On the phone was the picture of a way too skinny young boy with lanky limbs and cowlick hair staring deadpanned at the camera. “Wow.” She gasped. “That’s… uh, really something. I never-”

“Yup. That’s me alright.” Alejandro grinned. “As much as I like to brag about my perfect physique, I wasn’t always handsome like this. Trust me, no one likes to remind me of that more than Jose. He keeps me humble that way.”

“Huh, I guess I never really thought of you as anything other than the version I met.” Heather admitted. “You probably got bullied a lot, eh?”

Alejandro nodded. “Oh of course! With Carlos and Jose to compare to, I was massacred by the kids back in the day. But I showed them!” He puffed his chest. “We showed them. Have I calmed your nerves sufficiently enough to prove your worth?” He offered her a tissue.

“Thanks.” Heather accepted the offer, blowing her nose and wiping her tears away with her hand. “It kills me that this picture of me is making its rounds online. God! I will never hear the end of it if anyone in the show catches wind of this.”

“Hey, relax, we’ll think of something.” Alejandro soothed. “You know, we can always take a page out of Courtney’s book and make the girl take down the picture.”

“... Yeah. That sounds good.”

“Are you ready to go home?”

“Just give me a few minutes.” Heather closed her eyes, taking a deep breath as she relished the soft breeze on her skin. With Alejandro’s hand in hers she watched the ducks at the park swim around, gathering her composure.

#aleheatherweek2024 #aleheather #total drama #total drama heather #total drama alejandro #td heather #td alejandro

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