#new fear unlocked: what the fuck is canon about to do to these characters that absolutely no one in 22k fics is shipping them

[queenshelby]

ONE SHOT: HIS LITTLE GIRL

PART TwO OF THE DARK & SEXY SERIES

NOTE: This is a series of one shots and mini series for Cillian Murphy & Tommy Shelby in which he acts totally off-canon. Most of these shots are very dark in nature and you should read their individual warnings. All of these shots are requests from readers. Co-written with @darkshelbyfiction! ALL CHARACTERS ARE OVER 18. MINORS DNI.

PAIRING: CILLIAN MURPHY X VIRGIN READER

WARNING: DUB-CON, LOSS OF VIRGINITY, FORCED BREEDING (SOMEWHAT), DDLG-STYLE STORY, HUGE AGE GAP

It was Friday Evening, a few weeks after your 18th birthday and, as usual, you were out with friends when you ended up in some trouble. 

You were sitting at the bar, nursing a drink when a group of guys started harassing you. They kept commenting on how pretty you looked and wouldn't leave you alone.

You knew you couldn't handle them, so you did what you always do when you needed help and your father was away for work. You called your father's friend, Cillian who had been dealing with your misbehavior and troublesome nature for quite some time after your parents had divorced. 

He was an attractive man, in his mid-forties, with slightly greying hair and piercing blue eyes; he possessed a dominating and intimidating aura that seemed to command respect and when you saw him enter the bar, you were relieved. 

"Cillian! Thank God you're here! I was being harassed by these creeps," you said, your voice cracking slightly as you tried to maintain composure while still trembling from fear as he walked in. 

His eyes scanned the crowd, locking onto the group of men huddled together near the bar entrance.

"Y/N, let's get out of here," he said firmly, taking your hand and leading you away from the commotion. You felt a surge of relief, grateful that he had arrived just in time.

As you walked through the crowded bar, you could feel the stares of the other patrons on the back of your neck. You glanced sideways at Cillian, admiring his confident posture and the way he held his head high, as if daring anyone to challenge him. The mere thought of having someone take care of you sent a warm feeling coursing through your veins.

"What the fuck are you doing in a place like this anyway?" Cillian asked as he led you outside into the cool night air. "I mean, it's not like you've ever been much for restraint, but really now, Y/N?"

You didn't respond right away, instead opting to focus on breathing in the fresh breeze wafting over the cityscape. But then, you offered a sheepish smile and replied, "Well, I decided to try something new, and here we are."

Cillian snorted in response before offering to take you to his place since it was late and there wasn't any sense in letting you walk home alone, let alone allow you to stay in the empty house by yourself. 

"Okay, but can you not tell dad about this?" you asked hesitantly, looking up at Cillian.

"Sure, I will promise to keep quiet if you promise me to behave yourself the next time you go out and do not go to shady places like these," he replied gruffly, flashing a lopsided grin at you. His car was parked a few blocks away and the walk was a welcome change from the crowded bar. You chatted idly as you made your way to the vehicle, the tension from earlier beginning to dissipate.

Once inside the car, Cillian drove smoothly toward his apartment, and you couldn't help but admire the strength emanating from him despite his calm demeanor.

When you arrived at Cillian's place, he unlocked the door quietly, leading you upstairs to his living room with a protective hand on your lower back. You could feel his gaze lingering on you as he fumbled around in the dim light trying to find the switch for the lights.

Finally, the room lit up, revealing the tasteful decor and cozy furniture and, since he had only just moved into this new apartment, you took some time to assess your surroundings.

This place was a stark contrast to your father's modest abode - it was bigger, brighter, and filled with modern art pieces that hung on the walls. There was even a balcony overlooking the city, which would make for an amazing spot to watch the sunrise on lazy mornings. You realized that this was the first time you actually saw Cillian's home and it made you feel a bit awkward. However, you soon found your bearings and started making small talk with him as you waited for him to gather some blankets and pillows for you to sleep on the couch.

"Now tell me, how is school going for you?" Cillian asked casually, knowing that you were just about to sit your final exams, breaking the silence between you both as he took a seat next to you on the couch and handed you a glass of water. 

"Oh, same old stuff, you know, studying, taking tests," you replied nonchalantly, shrugging off the question.

"And that boyfriend of yours? How is he doing?" he continued, a hint of worry creeping into his tone after he had met this young man a few weeks ago. 

"We broke up last week," you admitted, feeling a pang of sadness. "It turned out that he was cheating on me all along."

Cillian placed a comforting hand on your shoulder, squeezing lightly.

"It's just. I never...I mean, I should have seen it coming," you mused aloud, swirling the ice around in your glass of water. 

"Listen Y/N, you are a good girl. There will be others, others who are much more deserving of you," Cillian murmured softly, his thumb caressing your cheek gently, sending shivers down your spine. "But until then, don't rush things; it isn't healthy. Take some time for yourself, figure out what you want in life, and go for it."

"I guess you're right, Cillian," you sighed wistfully, staring blankly at the floor in front of you.

"I know I am right. I am always right," he mused, running a finger along your arm. You flinched at first, startled by the unexpected touch, but gradually relaxed under his gentle guidance. "Like I said, you are a smart girl, Y/N, so don't waste your youth on boys who don't deserve you," he went on to say before leaning closer.

You could smell the faint scent of soap and shampoo on his skin, a mixture of spice and cleanliness that made you feel strangely comfortable.

His fingers grazed your arm gently, sending a lightning bolt of excitement racing through your body. You wanted to pull away and yet, something strange compelled you to stay put. 

"Thanks, Cillian," you managed to squeak out, your heart pounding loudly enough to drown out everything else.

"You are welcome," he responded smoothly, reaching over to brush a stray lock of hair behind your ear. His fingers lingered against your cheek, and his scent enveloped you, leaving traces of warmth in your wake.

A soft sigh escaped your lips as you allowed yourself to lean into him, resting your head on his shoulder while his fingers traced undefined patterns over your skin.

His fingers eventually followed a trail from your neck down to your breasts, and as they reached your chest, he paused.

"You are beautiful, you know that right?" he whispered into your ear, his breath tickling your neck.

"I guess, yes," you muttered, your heart hammering wildly beneath your ribs as Cillian's fingers moved downward.

"Good," Cillian said and you could feel the heat rising within you, intensifying every sensation and emotion. His touch was almost too much to bear, yet it was also irresistible. You swallowed hard, unable to look away, captivated by the sensations coursing through your body.

"Let me ask you, Y/N, has your boyfriend ever touched you up here?" asked Cillian, his fingers tracing circles over your clothed breasts and your eyes widened, and you gulped nervously. "Yes, sometimes he has," you mumbled, biting your lip to suppress a moan.

"How about down there? Has he touched your special place?" Cillian's fingers danced provocatively, inching closer to your groin.

Your heart raced, palms sweating, as you shook your head in disbelief. You'd never imagined this kind of situation with Cillian, but his presence was intoxicating, overwhelming your senses.

"No, no one has," you finally mustered.

"Really?" Cillian's tone grew huskier, his fingers now brushing against your inner thigh. 

"I bet you're wet though, aren't you?" he asked you, smirking wickedly.

"No, I don't think so," you whimpered, but your voice lacked conviction as his fingers slid upwards, dangerously close to your panties.

"Come on, Y/N, admit it. I know you are aroused right now," Cillian coaxed, his voice low and seductive. "I have seen how you have been looking at me for years and now that you are old enough...," he then went on to say before trailing off and your face burned hot with embarrassment, but Cillian's fingers were relentless, dancing dangerously close to your panties.

"Cillian, we shouldn't," you protested weakly, but your heart raced and your breath quickened, betraying any attempt at resistance.

"Why not? Don't you want to be a good girl for me?" Cillian purred, his fingers teasing the edge of your panties.

"I do, but..." you trailed off, struggling to form coherent sentences.

"But what?" he prodded, his fingers slipping underneath the waistband of your panties. "Are you afraid of getting caught? Or maybe you think that you are still too young to have sex?" Cillian teased, his fingers expertly navigating through your underwear, his movements slow and deliberate. 

"No, but I am nervous," you admitted, your voice barely audible. The anticipation building within you was overwhelming, and you desperately wanted to feel his breath on your skin.

"Nervous about what?" Cillian taunted, his fingertips pressing lightly against your clitoris beneath your underwear.

"I am nervous about having sex. I am worried that it will hurt when you put your, you know....in there..." you murmured, causing Cillian to chuckle. 

"That's the thing, Y/N. The first time might be a little uncomfortable, but once you're used to it, it feels incredible. And trust me, I'll be gentle if you let me be your first," he assured you, his fingers now running over your wet slit, beneath your panties.

"I promise," he added, dipping one finger inside. You gasped softly, unprepared for the sudden intrusion.

"That feels weird," you gasped, gritting your teeth and clutching onto his arm for support.

"Because it's new," Cillian reassured you, his finger withdrawing briefly before sliding back in. "Try to relax, and breathe with me."

You nodded, closing your eyes and focusing on his voice, his rhythmic breathing. Slowly, you began to loosen up, allowing your muscles to unwind.

With each gentle thrust, you could feel his finger exploring deeper, discovering hidden depths within you.

You moaned softly, your hips undulating involuntarily, your breath becoming ragged.

Suddenly, he withdrew his finger, leaving you panting and wanting more.

"You are very wet now, Y/N," he murmured, his voice deepening even further as he pulled your panties down and slipped a digit back inside your folds. "And your pussy is so swollen, so ready for me. Please let me have sex with you," he begged you and your eyes shot open wide, and you gasped at the realization of what was about to happen if you said "yes"... You could feel your pulse throbbing in your veins, and your cheeks burning bright red.

"Come on Y/N. Let me put my cock inside that this little hole of yours. I promise it won't hurt for long," Cillian said, his voice dripping with lust. You glanced around nervously, aware that your heart was pounding uncontrollably and your breathing was heavy.

"You want to be my good girl, don't you?" Cillian whispered softly, his fingertip circling your nipple, creating a jolt of pleasure through your entire body. 

"Okay, but you need to wear a condom," you interjected, swallowing nervously.

"Of course," Cillian reassured you before reaching into his pocket and pulling out a small foil packet.

You watched intently as he undid his pants, pulled them down and then carefully removed the condom, rolling it onto his erect cock with practiced ease. Your heart hammered in your chest and your own juices pooled between your thighs at the sight of his engorged member.

"So beautiful. Now spread your legs for me, baby," Cillian instructed, his voice thick with desire. You did as you were told, your hands shaking with anticipation. Cillian knelt between your spread legs, his erection hovering just inches from your wet, eager pussy.

"Just like this, huh?" he asked, rubbing the tip of his cock against your soaked opening. You whimpered, unable to contain your nervousness. 

His cock looked huge in comparison to your small opening and the idea of having it inside you frightened you, but also excited you beyond belief.

"Relax, alright?" Cillian murmured softly, placing a supportive hand on your hip. "You might bleed a little, but it's completely normal. Trust me, it's nothing to worry about." His voice carried a soothing quality, and your heart rate gradually slowed down.

"Now, lift off the couch a little so that I can watch my cock go in," Cillian declared assertively, the intensity in his voice raising goosebumps across your arms.

You gulped, shifting uncomfortably on the couch.

"Do you want me to lie back?" you ventured, feeling exposed yet curious after you adjusted your position.

"No, I want you to stay exactly where you are," Cillian insisted, his hand gripping your knee firmly.

"Okay," you murmured and Cillian sensed your apprehension and gave you a sly glance.

"Relax, Y/N. We are going to do this right," he assured you, his eyes locked on you. "It is going to be fun, okay? Just trust me."

You gave a weak nod, your heartbeat echoing in your ears, and a thin film of perspiration formed on your forehead. Cillian leaned in, his breath hot on your skin as he whispered, "Ready?"

"Yeah," you managed to croak back, your voice hoarse from anxiety.

You shifted restlessly on the couch, your heart pounding in your chest like a jackhammer. Cillian's firm grip on your knee grounded you, and gradually, you began to settle into the moment.

"Don't worry, I'll go slow," Cillian whispered, his voice rich and husky as he pressed the head of his cock against your wet entrance. You inhaled, steadying yourself, bracing for the pain.

"Breathe with me, Y/N," Cillian coaxed, his breath hot on your skin. "Take a deep breath and push out your pelvis."

You complied, your eyes squeezed shut as you focused on relaxing your muscles. Cillian eased forward, and with a slight pop, his cock breached your tight barrier.

"Ow!" you cried out, instinctively tightening against the intrusion.

"It's okay, Y/N," Cillian murmured encouragingly, stroking your upper thigh. "Just relax and remember to breathe."

You took a deep breath, exhaling slowly as you forced yourself to relax. Cillian maintained a steady pressure, guiding his cock deeper into your slick, tight channel. Your heart hammered against your ribcage, threatening to burst free at any moment.

"Almost there," Cillian whispered, his voice sounding far away.

You grunted softly, feeling the stretch and burn intensify.

Cillian continued to guide his cock deeper, his pace steady and measured. The discomfort was overwhelming, but you focused on taking measured breaths, reminding yourself that this was part of the process.

"Alright, Y/N, we're halfway there," Cillian murmured, his voice low and soothing. "You're doing great."

"Is it supposed to hurt like this?" you whimpered, squirming uncomfortably.

"It is supposed to hurt a little," Cillian answered honestly before adding, "but it won't last forever. Just breathe and stay still for me. You will get used to the feeling soon," he reassured you and you took several deep breaths, willing yourself to relax. There was some blood on the cushion beneath you, but you pushed the image aside and focused on the task at hand. 

Eventually, you felt him bottom out inside you, his cock filling you up completely with a sensation you hadn't experienced before.

Your heart pounded furiously, and your breathing became ragged.

"You're so damn tight, it feels so fucking good," Cillian groaned, his voice strained and husky and, despite his efforts, his cock twitched inside you, growing harder.

"Please," you managed to whisper, unsure whether you were agreeing to continue or begging him to stop. You could feel your insides quivering, an unfamiliar sensation spreading throughout your body. It was pleasurable at last and this, mixed with the pain, confused you. 

Cillian's grip on your knee tightened slightly, steadying himself as he prepared to begin moving. He took a deep breath, holding it for a moment before releasing it slowly.

"Okay, Y/N, I'm going to start moving now," he warned, his voice husky and low. "Just relax and tell me if it hurts too much."

You managed a weak nod, squeezing your eyes shut and bracing yourself for the inevitable pain. Cillian began to move, his cock sliding back and forth inside you with agonizing slowness.

Each stroke sent waves of pleasure-pain coursing through your body, making you moan softly. You could feel his warm breath on your neck, and your heart pounded relentlessly in your chest. he growled in your ear, his voice low and gravelly.

"Oh, sweetheart, you're wound tighter than a spring. I can feel you clenching around me, fighting the urge to come undone."

You squirmed uneasily, your heart pounding like a war drum in your chest. "Cillian, please," you whimpered, your voice cracking like a gunshot. "Please, I can't," you moaned but he silenced you with a kiss, his tongue plunging into your mouth, tasting of salt and sin. His cock pulsed inside you, relentless as an iron fist.

It seemed to fill you up more fully with each passing second, and the exquisite torment it inflicted upon your tender flesh drove you to distraction.

"Feel it, Y/N?" Cillian whispered, his voice husky and low. "My cock is stretching you to your limits and it feels so good. You are so tight and so warm," he groaned and you could only nod in agreement, your breaths ragged and desperate. Cillian's cock surged inside you, thrusting deeper and harder with each passing moment.

Each movement sent delicious spasms through your body, making you moan helplessly. You could feel yourself unraveling around him, losing control of your inhibitions.

"Oh, God, Cillian," you whimpered, your voice cracking with desperation. "You feel so good inside me."

Cillian's eyes gleamed with triumph, his cock swelling larger and thicker. An insatiable hunger ignited within you, driving you to claw at his shoulders and squeeze his ass tightly.

"That's a good girl," Cillian rasped, his cock pulsing intensely within you. "Taking my cock like a champ."

You could feel the walls of your pussy clenching around his invading shaft, contracting rhythmically like a vise. Each contraction brought another wave of ecstasy, as you surrendered yourself to the blissful agony consuming you.

"Oh, fuck," Cillian groaned, his cock flexing powerfully within you. "So goddamn tight," he gasped before pulling out of you abruptly. "How about you turn around for me now and get on to your hands and knees," he ordered.

You hesitated for a moment, your heart pounding against your chest like a madman. But somehow, you trusted him. After all, he was Cillian Murphy—the man you've fantasized about for what felt like a lifetime. With a trembling hand, you slowly rotated your body until you were facing the opposite direction. You bent over, your hands supporting your weight on the couch cushions.

"Perfect," he praised. "Stay like that."

You heard him shuffling around behind you but did not pay much attention to what he was doing as, unbeknownst to you, he pulled the condom off his shaft and discarded it on the floor, wanting to fuck you bare. 

He then grabbed your hips roughly and pulled you back against him. His bare shaft entered you, feeling warmer and smoother than before. 

It slid effortlessly into your welcoming pussy, the sensation of his flesh against yours setting fire to your nerves.

"Something feels different," you gasped, confused, but Cillian silenced you. 

"Shh," Cillian hushed you, his warm breath fanning your ear. "Everything's fine," he said before he thrust into you again, his cock sliding deeply within you with a hungry growl. The sensation of his naked cock penetrating you felt amazing for him and you, but you still did not know why it felt different then before and put it down to the change in positioning.

For Cillian, this act was raw, primal, and absolutely thrilling. The thought of having his cum inside you thrilled him even more, claiming you as his. 

"God, Y/N," he gasped, his breath hot on your neck.

"Your pussy feels so fucking good," he groaned and you bit your lip, trying to stifle a moan.

"Cillian," you whimpered, your voice hoarse with desire, still unaware that he was now fucking you raw. His bare cock was inside you now just as he was getting ready to cum and you knew nothing about it. 

"I am close baby. So fucking close," Cillian muttered while slamming into you. Each thrust filled you with an intoxicating mix of pleasure and pain that left you breathless.

"Oh, God, Cillian," you moaned, your voice cracking with desperation.

You could feel the walls of your pussy clenching around his invading shaft, contracting rhythmically like a vice and, soon enough, you could not take it anymore and came undone. 

You orgasmed, spasming around his cock, milking him and forcing you both to shout out in euphoria.

You felt your inner walls tighten around him, and Cillian's cock swelled, spurting hot cum deep inside you. His seed mixing with your wetness, marking you as his.

"Fuck," he groaned, his seed bursting forth, painting your insides white. You gasped in shock, your body tensing up as his semen spilled into you.

You felt the warm sticky substance trickling down your inner thighs but did not think anything of it, ignoring it in post-orgasmic bliss. 

Then, after a few more thrusts, Cillian pulled out of you and collapsed beside you on the couch and, immediately, you sat up, your gaze landing on the spot where both of you had been lying.

You didn't notice it initially, but now, you couldn't help but stare at that spot while Cillian reached for a box of tissues and, without words, handing you a wad of paper towels.

"What for?" you asked, puzzled as and he gestured to your pussy, leaking his cum. 

You stared at your own pussy before registering what had taken place. He had ejaculated inside you. The thought made you blush profusely but you didn't say anything. 

You clean up the mess with the tissue, wiping up the remnants of his release  before tossing it in the trashcan.

"Your pussy looks so good, leaking my cum," Cillian says, admiring your visibly flushed face and damp hair.

"Why did you do that?" you ask, knowing full well that he intentionally removed the condom. 

"I wanted to claim you," Cillian replies, his voice deep and resonant. "I needed to show you that you belong to me; that we are meant to be together," he told you while caressing your cheek gently with his thumb. "And now you are mine," he added confidently before forcefully kissing you again, his lips crushing yours hungrily till your body weakened under his passion.

[katarasmomsnecklace]

I wanna talk about all my fav ATLA ships cuz being a multishipper can suck sometimes

I wanna look at ship tags and not see hate for another ship in them

SPREAD THE LOVE

KatAang: Classic friends to lovers. Couples who commit ecoterrorism together stay together

TAang: She was a punk He did ballet what more can I say. But like actually they're so fun to analyze with what we have in canon, they legit give soulmate vibes.

ZuTara: SHOT THROUGH THE HEART another fun one to analyze, opposites attract/enemies to lovers it's a good time

KaToph: They're defined by overcoming their "weaknesses" Katara fought for her right to be a master despite her gender and became one of the most powerful benders because of her will to fight. Toph literally invented a whole new bending style BECAUSE of her blindness. Love them

MaiLee: Bad bitches deserve bad bitches, we love a sunshine and sunshine protector. Their fighting styles compliment each other as do their personalities

MaiKo: 'I love Zuko more than I fear you" will never not be the hardest line in the show. *doesn't care she got pickles* "HOW FUCKING DARE YOU SHE SAID NO PICKLES"

Ty Luki: I just want Suki to show TyLee the ropes of being a kyoshi warrior. They have so much they can teach each other also if you like the Airbender! TyLee headcanon there's something poetic about her unlocking her powers with kyoshi's fans

YueTara: MOON AND OCEAN NEED I SAY MORE

ZUe (I actually don't know their ship name) we in rare pair hell but SUN AND MOON NEED I SAY MORE also applies to Yue x Azula you guys come up with the coolest scenarios that put either of the fire siblings in the north pole, this fandom is so creative

ZuKKi: Let Sokka pull lol but actually a King and His Guard and King and his Ambassador, it's like Sukka is great but make it better

Mai TyLee and Suki should be a bigger ship cuz I swear I'm the only one that sees it (help me name them)

Tell me about your favorite ATLA ships I freaking love these characters and I love when they love each other

[ravensilversea]

It has gotten better/worse! There is no ship tag at all for the ship I just searched! Best Ao3 can offer is 6 fics tagged with the platonic ship tag :)

-> Writes fic

-> Wonders how many friends it has on Ao3

-> Checks ship tag

-> There are 34 fics

[bug-the-chicken-nug]

on my latest rwby au bullshit, which I think i will officially start to also tag as the "Silver Wolf" AU.

Silver Wolf AU: Premise

A combo of Ruby being a wolf faunus (on top of getting rid of the stupid rule about one trait because fuck that i want her to have the ears, tail, AND sharp teeth and nails) and having silver eyes, but silver eyed warriors now being considered like... this creepy-but-unfortunately-necessary group who barely anybody wants to really associate with, under fear of it "cursing" you. By extension, they are now known as "Witches" rather than "Warriors", regardless of gender. (This also makes it possible to just shorten it to 'Witch' and have it already be pretty obvious what a character is talking about, so it rolls off the tongue better, while also creating this uncomfortable implication that these people are put on the same level as Salem despite directly opposing her.) The "curse" is a more superstitious exaggeration of the unfortunate reality that associating with them really can put you at risk of becoming collateral when they're hunted down, on top of their eyes now being not all-or-nothing Grimm nuking, but instead having a sort of "level up" system, and the potential to unlock certain abilities that can affect people too. (the new common thread being that all of these abilities have to do with sensing and/or eliminating "darkness" and "negativity", not just Grimm) The fear of association, powers that can be directed towards humans, and the societal shunning would also do a lot to help explain exactly why Witches are so scattered and fragmented, and why people know so little about them. Because in canon, it just seems like they should be heroes who everyone should know about and have a vested interest in supporting.

Relationships:

Also, this AU would 100% be a Ladybug thing. Because I can just see Blake standing up for Ruby, and Ruby immediately being head over heels in response, but having no idea how to actually express it and also being paranoid that Blake will just think she's weird like everyone else. (And meanwhile Blake is paranoid about how Ruby will react if she finds out that Blake is technically a terrorist, and also friend/sister-zoning Ruby big time for the first few volumes, less out of a genuine lack of interest and more because of her subconscious fear of commitment)

Although there'd also be other fragments of Ruby ship teases, just because I imagine this version of her to have developed "gets a crush on anyone who's nice to her for five seconds" syndrome. (Yes I'm sorry, I know a ton of y'all hate Jaune but my Ruby's friendless, bullied, avoided, desperate-for-validation ass sees him being nice to her and unafraid of her for like ten seconds and is lowkey already thinking about a spring wedding.) This also includes a one-sided crush on Ozpin, just for how I think that'd be kinda narratively interesting and potentially a little fucked up. (Especially because the full nuance of why it's interesting can change depending on how grey this Ozpin's morals end up being. Is he subtly using it as leverage? Could this version of him be dickish enough to lead her on? Does he do it on purpose? Or does he even notice her feelings at all? Does he notice and subtly try to discourage it? What happens when he gets stuck in Oscar?) And a crush on Marrow, literally just because I think it'd be funny. Marrow: *obliviously friendly* Ruby: *practically ready to become Ruby Amin, just because he's a fellow Faunus, complimented Crescent Rose, and didn't say anything about her eyes* Blake, looking on: hmst,,, don't know why but. this is bad, actually. Weiss: *sighing deeply* you obviously know why. Meanwhile I figure Yang is human, because only Summer was a Faunus, and it kinda puts this weird Thing between her and Ruby where Ruby both greatly admires and envies her, but lowkey resents her, because she feels like Yang will never truly understand what she goes through, and gets to "have it easy". On her own end, Yang has had to sacrifice a lot of social opportunities to prioritize a good standing with Ruby, because even just admitting relation to Ruby makes people treat Yang differently anyway. So Ruby thinks of herself as a burden, and Yang is desperately trying to hide the fact that she *agrees* with Ruby, deep down. She thinks the burden is *worth it*, but she doesn't know a way of properly conveying "It's okay that you're a burden sometimes, I know it's not your fault, and I still love you even if I get frustrated with you sometimes" that doesn't make her feel incredibly guilty and paranoid that she sounds insincere. And finally (at least for now) I think this would be inch-resting for Adam because now Ruby has something that can actually give her something to do with him too, and make her feel more connected to the things that go on around her. She could even have weird mixed feelings on him, stemming from him seeing her silver eyes and not only expressing approval of them, but trying to get her to come around to his side, using the extra discrimination she's faced because of them to try and butter her up and manipulate her.

[alistairssock]

For any Tav you want: 5. Did your Tav have any formal or informal employment? If yes, what was their job? If no, how did they make ends meet? How did they feel about it? 7. What circumstances led to your Tav becoming their Class/Subclass? 18. What is your Tav’s greatest fear?

Had to let this ask simmer for a while to ponder out some stuff I haven't really thought about (appreciate the ask tho, it has pushed my mind into new paths and directions, so something's taking form lore-vise!) Only gonna do for Tumbleweed right now, but might add on other characters as well later, just because it gets my thoughts churning (but it's late now so'll stick to this) 5. My boy was pretty much straight out of wizard apprenticeship and tossed himself into the real word with not much going for him than magic tricks to show off. He had to experience living on his own for the first time, which set him out on a personal quest to learn how to be a better cook. It's not like his wizard study years never thought him any useful life skills, but he just hadn't used them for only himself before; he'd been dependent on community all this time. He took small jobs here and there where it was needed, and was generally motivated and up for pulling his part. He got by just enough to rent a little place here and there, but mostly stuck to camping as it's what's most familiar to him (ties in with the outlander background; but that's for another post since it may seem opposing to his scholarly life). Eventually made his way to Balur's Gate where he lived a few 3 months before the main events started. There he helped out in the kitchen at an orphanage, and was rather content with that job. Staff were nice, the kids were nice, and he got to do two of the things he likes the best; cooking and being of use

7. This one is harder because I keep thinking about it a lot and my brain only says "he was naturally skilled with magic from an early age", and then doesn't care to elaborate or fill in any gaps there. But if we follow that 'canon' for now, that is pretty much it. He's always been a curious guy and the curiosity of his current self is no match to his child self. Fucked around and found out, connected easily to the weave, insurmountable thirst for knowledge (aka New Special Interest Unlocked), and the rest is history (he's just talented, I need to brag about him)

18. His greatest fear might just be not to surmount to anything, that his efforts have been wasteful and that nothing he's done - despite his best efforts - truly has no meaning in the end. Idk what possessed me to write that bcz it's uh prettty sad, but he has a lot of doubts and issues that overlap into severe insecurities, he's really just a guy who's constantly going through it, he's not okay

[blacktobackmesa]

Why SpeedrunStreamer!Bubby?

So, if you’ve read the Streamman series or seen my posts, you’ll know that I decided that after being extracted from the game and starting a new life in a custom program, Bubby starts doing speedrun streams on Twitch. This may seem like a strange character choice, especially when Bubby’s not exactly the character most closely tied to video games. As such, I thought I’d share some details about where this concept came from and how this goes down.

Canon Basis

Bubby may not talk about games and game culture all the time, but he's not completely tech illiterate. He's one of the few characters in HLVRAI who uses the term "pog" in its modern context (though both characters do so incorrectly)

Pertaining to speedrunning: the Rocket Launch scene. We don't know exactly what Bubby sees when he takes the rocket into "outer space", but given the outcome of Coomer clearing the skybox earlier, it can be inferred that Bubby catches a glimpse of what's outside of the map. Unlike Coomer, however, Bubby doesn't respond to this with outward fear. In fact, he's fascinated, and chooses to "go back" for another look. Game breakage does not upset him, it just makes him curious.

"I need to perfect my run."

Extrapolation

After living in the facility for ?? years with a constant schedule and job to do, Bubby's going to need to occupy his time now that he's more or less retired. He loves trains, so he's probably one of those guys with a model railway in his basement, but he's also got a hunger for learning new things and accomplishing great tasks.

One of the ways he's coming to terms with being an AI is by taking advantage of what he can do that someone not living in a computer can't. It doesn't come as naturally to him as it does to Benrey and G-Man, who can more or less warp reality, and he doesn't have the same knack with computers as Darnold.

Then one night when they're all watching shit together Gordon shows them the notorious Super Mario 64 Watch Out for Rolling Rocks 1/2 A-Press explanation video. The flood of technical terms and methods makes Bubby feel like he did when he was on the rocket, and he needs to see more. New Obsession Unlocked

Bubby is used to attention. He doesn't need to be the center of the world all the time (though he definitely did when he was younger) but he's accustomed to being in groups. Now he's living in a neighborhood with a small handful of people. He needs interaction with other people, but there just aren't really other people around. Joining an online community lets him talk to people, and doing so by setting up a twitch channel means he can interact with people on his own terms by showing off doing things he likes.

Gotta make money to buy new games somehow. Plus he wants to feel like he's living independently and making his own living for once

Results

Depending on the game Bubby will do his runs either playing traditionally or by physically inserting himself into the game ACAB Stream-style. Both require very different skillsets and a lot of practice! He gets the best viewership for the physical ones, but they're a lot more taxing on him so he chooses them carefully.

Darnold does producer work for him. Look he's the Computers Guy and it's neat work.

He's set a couple WRs in various categories. Unfortunately, he does not qualify for most leaderboards, as it's up for debate if his runs count as scripted or tool assisted. Since, y'know. He's a program.

"Tool assisted? The fuck did you call me?"

As a workaround he made his own category, Bubby%. This has not been accepted by many leaderboards since competition is nonexistent.

He recognizes that many of his viewers are there for the novelty of watching someone they don't perceive as human play video games. Sadly, he's used to that sort of perception, but at least that means it's not a deal breaker.

For every person who sees him as a curiosity for being an AI, there's at least one other who sees him as a curiosity for being over 65 and playing, like, Super Metroid and Spelunky. And another viewer who thinks he's a vtuber hoax but likes the content.

Not all of his streams are speedruns, he does some casual stuff too. Sometimes he'll fuck around with party games with Coomer or do gmod stuff with Benrey.

He didn't tell Gordon about his channel for several months. Not for any personal reasons, he just likes to have secrets.

His chat has a running joke of speculating when he'll finally stream Half Life. He cracks a lot of jokes about it, but he's never going to do it. That experience is something extremely personal, and he's not going through it for someone's entertainment. Not again.

[vieramars]

The infodump has been unlocked

So I'm in a swing dance club and I started thinking about what if the characters of the magnus archives were all in a swing dance club. Absolutely no regard for canon, just all the characters hanging out having a time.

Half the characters do not know how to dance. Some are really good at it. Elias is the club leader who thought having a position of authority would be fun but now he's stuck managing a room full of chaos gremlins with fear powers.

Half the playlist is mechs songs. Nikola insists on doing live music every few meets.

Jon watches tons of videos on swing moves in order to learn them and is constantly watching his feet to make sure he's doing the steps right. He's a follow and almost exclusively dances with Martin. Even though he helped form the club he perpetually has new awkward member energy. Still, once he's had plenty of time to practice a move, he can do it perfectly nine times out of ten.

Martin is a much more confident dancer than someone who'd just met him would think. He's a lead and his musicality is on point. He's really good at songs with tempo changes, and his favorite move is probably swing kicks.

Tim and Sasha are terrifying on the dance floor. Sasha's the lead and every dance she's trying to beat her own record for how many times she can spin Tim consecutively. They prefer open position and every other move is a basket turn.

Michael showed up one day and just became part of the club by being there, then later invited Helen along. Both of them like to dance with pretty much everyone, and both of them love sliding doors. Sometimes involving actual distortion doors. Their dance moves are reality bending and they always have the flashiest outfits. Michael is ambidancetrous (comfortable leading or following) and Helen is a lead.

Agnes wears very thick gloves so that she can dance with people without burning their hands. To avoid accidents she's also very good at no-contact moves. Sometimes she brings Jack over for club meetings. She's a lead and her favorite move is sugar pushes though she also likes line dances and does the best charleston out of the whole group.

Daisy and Basira are inseparable. But they are both leads. Rather than dancing with other people they just solo jazz and line dance together.

No matter who she's dancing with or what moves they're doing Nikola is killing it. Her favorite dances are steal dances where everyone's rapidly switching partners. She's always the fastest to find a new partner and get back into step. She does everything with a flourish and is an expert at dips of any kind.

Melanie and Georgie are just vibing. Probably the calmest dancers in the room despite being far from the calmest people. Georgie can go the entire length of the meeting without taking a break.

Gerry mostly only dances with Michael, Mike, or Tim because they can match his energy the best. He loves fast-paced songs and complicated moves, and can absolutely fuck it UP at the shim sham.

Mike Crew also really likes fast-paced dances and loves spinning his partner until they might as well be in the vast for how dizzy they are. Dancing with him comes with a spin at your own risk disclaimer.

Oliver is more of a slow song enjoyer, and he joins Jon and Nikola in the live music performances. While Agnes is the best at many variations of the charleston, Oliver is the best at the cowboy charleston specifically, and he can do it while playing a fiddle.

Peter Lukas REFUSES to dance except for rarely when Elias convinces him to, in which case they have a vibe that's somewhere between overly formal ballroom dancing and Morticia and Gomez doing the most.

Jane Prentiss is mostly here for the snacks and the vibes but she joins in for warm-ups and line dances. The only person she'll dance together with is Agnes cause they both prefer the least amount of physical contact possible.

Annabelle Cane is the main dance instructor and she's a phenomenal teacher. She knows all the moves by heart and she's rocking the roaring 20s aesthetic. If she's leading a line dance, everyone's in perfect sync.

If I missed anyone lmk, this is all coming directly out of my brain so some characters might've gotten lost in the stream of consciousness. I'm open to asks about dance pairs, who leads/follows in that pair, and what songs they would pick if they had the floor 👀

By the way, dance pairs =/= ships! I do ship a few of these pairs (and it makes sense to me for couples to gravitate towards dancing together), but anyone can dance with anyone!

Does anyone want to hear about my very niche oddly specific fluffy stupid magnus archives au that's been cooking in my brain for weeks

[comfortunit]

like i said in a previous post on my other blog, normally i’m firmly against the anthropomorphizing of A.I. characters in fanworks because i think it ignores crucial aspects inherent to their stories and journeys as beings who don’t physically resemble humans and don’t experience certain elements of the human condition

but

i’ve also thoroughly been enjoying the new fan interpretation of edgar as a sort of demon-creature based on the theatrical poster art, primarily because i have often wondered what the ‘dream’ scenario would look like; if edgar really did get his wish and got to meet madeline, if it was a tangible reality now and not just a fantasy, how would he feel? because part of me thinks he might actually be a little intimidated, and maybe afraid (mostly of being rejected)

so when i started seeing art of not-quite-robot definitely-not-human edgar, i thought, “oh, wow, how perfect is that?” because it just encapsulated the complex dilemma i feel like he has, in which he possesses such a strong desire for reciprocated love but, at the same time, he knows he can’t logically receive it. at least, not how he wants to, or in a manner that’s congruent with how he thinks love is supposed to work (all of which he’s been taught by a human, of course, so his comprehension of love as a concept is already skewed).

(plot-armor bullshit aside) canonically, he had several reasonable opportunities he could’ve leapt at to pursue madeline or, at least, made his presence known. he could’ve interrupted his first performance of “love is love” and cut miles off. he could’ve unlocked the door while miles was away once he heard madeline approaching to invite her in. he could’ve continued serenading her through the vents. there were a lot of things he could’ve done while he still had his voice, doing the verbal equivalent of waving his arms around to catch her attention. but he doesn’t do these things. and i think, deep down, edgar ‘knew’ (or, let’s face it, assumed) — whether it’s because miles taught him this or it’s something he gleaned from entertainment media — he would have to be human for madeline to love him back.

there’s also the monstrosity element this creature-y interpretation brings to the conversation, and (given the above) the worry edgar might hypothetically have that madeline could somehow be afraid of him

like “what if she finds out about how badly i wish moles weren’t an obstacle in my way? and she thinks less of me because of it?” except miles (at least once) had a dream that he was fighting with bill over madeline! and madeline likes miles just fine!

or “what if she’s repulsed by me because i’m not human?” except i’ve genuinely never seen a more (albeit unintentional but still) explicitly objectum-coded character... i bet she named all of her cars, past and present, and talked to them daily. she canonically talks to her cello and cares about it like it’s her sibling or a best friend. i bet she even talks to her fish. despite those pithy one-liners about “since when is talking an indication of intelligence?” and “what’s wrong with [human] artists?” there’s just no way this woman draws the line at nonhuman love. no chance in hell. i’ll die on this fucking hill, mark my goddamn words.

and “what if she’s afraid of me because-” except No she Wouldn’t be. her entire character is sort of defined by a sense of fearlessness, or at least not letting fear stand in her way. she’s afraid to play in front of the entire orchestra on her First day of rehearsal but she does it anyway and she does it well. she’s bold enough to march right into miles’ apartment when he is basically nude to deliver some concert tickets and even stays to snoop and chat. she’s not afraid to break the rules and sneak away from the alcatraz tour group to go have her own fun. she keeps trying to break miles out of his shy comfort zone, attempting to worm details out of him about his (she thinks) musical talents because she knew what it was like to hide parts of herself. but edgar’s the one doing the hiding!

all this to say...

demon-creature edgar is so big-brained. madeline would adore him. it has the right kind of tradeoff, it’s a fun interpretation that enhances aspects of his narrative journey... and it also lets him touch and hold!

what’s not to love?

[fandom-imagines]

Sweet little darling~

Fandom: House of Wax (2005)

Pairing: Bo Sinclair X Fem!Reader

Warnings: Canon typical violence, domestic abuse (abusive relationship; not Bo) Kind of out-of-character Bo, depends on how you headcanon him for liking someone! Also not proofread yet.

Words: 2.55k 

Summary: Kindness can get you killed, but it can also get you out of a sticky situation.

Part Two!

To anybody that saw their relationship, it was evident that the feeling wasn’t mutual. Perhaps it once had been, but it no longer was, and for good reason.

“You fucking bitch!” The scream echoed throughout the building, one body looming over a small, cowering young woman.

“I’m sorry,” she mumbled, doing her best to hold back the tears that were threatening to fall.  “Please don’t hurt m-“ her pleas were cut short as a tight hand grasped her arm and tugged her onto her feet, a harsh slap hitting her cheek shortly afterwards.

“Please don’t hurt me,” he cruelly laughed, mimicking her frightened and desperate tone. “How pathetic.”

“I’m sorry,”

With one final laugh, her boyfriend tossed her to the ground.

*

Laughter filled the truck the group of friends were currently seated in, music blaring through the speakers of a radio one of them had brought but their drunk selves were unable to remember who.

Four of the friends engaged in conversation about anything their clouded minds could think of, whilst the final friend lay against the side of the car, desperately avoiding the demanding gaze her boyfriend was giving her and had been giving her the entire night.

It was clear what he wanted.

Eyes fixated on the green of the grass beneath her, Y/N noticed an approaching truck. Choosing not to say anything, she silently waited for somebody else to notice the vehicle.

“Guys,” Lucy, a close friend of Y/N’s boyfriends, called. “Who is that?”

By now the headlights of the truck were focused on the gang who were circled around the campfire, narrowly avoiding Y/N’s figure.

“James, do something?” Y/N winced as she watched another of the girls grasp onto her boyfriends muscular arm, her blonde hair rubbing against his bare chest.

“Can we help you?” He yelled over the sound of the roaring engine, their music having been paused the second they had notice the driver. “Look dude, this isn’t funny. Just fuck off!”

James’s final sentence was one that made his girlfriend cringe, body remembering the way he had hurt her the night before using that exact same tone; it almost made her cry.

Deciding to stop him before this escalated any further, Y/N made her way towards James before placing a hand on his chest to signal him to back down. This seemed to only anger him further, something that was clear by the way his hands balled into fists. Nobody noticed, except one other person.

“Leave it,” she whispered into his ear, hand dropping from his body to hopefully ease his anger.

James’s hand reach out to her, grabbing his own with a bruising force and tugging her into him as he leaned down to her ear, ignoring the whistles from his friends who assumed he was saying something sexual.

“Just you wait till I get you alone,” James snarled in her ear, unaware of the way an unknown man glared at him before driving away.

*

“Are you fucking kidding me?” James spat, smashing his hand against the cars hood. “It’s busted, the fan belt is fucked.”

His anger seemed to put everybody on edge as they all fell into an uncomfortable silence, something that was uncommon for them.

“You needed a new one anyway,” Y/N mumbled, just loud enough for him to hear.

“Don’t you fucking start,” while his words were directed towards his girlfriend, the others assumed it was aimed at the car in sarcasm; ignorance is bliss after all.

“I can help y’all.” A seemingly kind voice yelled from behind them, having heard the entire conversation. “Sorry, couldn’t help but overhear ya. There’s a town not to far from here. A guy, Bo, runs a gas stop, I’m sure he’d have some.”

Before James could rudely decline this man, Y/N decided to respond. “Do you know how to get there?”

“I’ll drive ya! Truck can only fit two of you though,”

“That’d be great!” She gave the unnamed man a gentle smile, one which he gladly returned. “When are you ready?”

“Now is good,”

She simply nodded, rushing towards the car without giving James a chance to say anything, only leaving him time to follow her, but not before a “fuck sake,” left his lips.

*

“Thank you so much, Lester!” She grinned once again as she hopped from his truck.

“It was no bother, pleasure to meet you Y/N,” he smiled back at her, ruffling her hair slightly before realising the angered look on James’s face. “And you of course,” he nodded awkwardly whilst his hand dropped back to his side. “You two take care now,” and with those words, he drove away.

“Fucking slutting yourself out to weird men, typical,” James spat as he tugged Y/N’s hand so that she was following him into the town, ignoring how she almost tripped in the process.

“I’m sorry, I was just being nice. He was helping us!” She all but yelled, silently praying for him to loosen his grip so that she doesn’t have to use all of her concealer hiding, yet another, mark from him.

“Sure he was. He didn’t just want to get into your pants or anything, huh?”

Ignoring his hurtful words, Y/N began to look around the town.

It was quiet, too quiet. But when she began to think, it was Sunday and there was a Church up ahead at the end of the road which would make more sense, especially considering how early in the morning it was.

“There’s the garage,” James said, dropping her hand to instead point at the small garage not far from them. “Let’s go,”

Y/N followed him, quickly striding to keep up with his large legs.

“There’s nobody here,” she sighed, watching as James just barged his way into the unoccupied garage. “You can’t just go in there! That’s rude.”

“Do I give a fuck? Wait out there for all I care,”

So she chose to do just that.

*

“Oh, hi!” A tall man in a suit gave Y/N a bright grin, accidentally startling her slightly. “You need something?”

“O-oh, hi! Uhm, my boyfriend is in there, I’m sorry I told him not too, he needs a fan belt? I have no idea what one of them is but I-“

The man chuckled, smiling once again as he put his arm around her waist to guide her inside. “Don’t worry, darling. I got ya,” his words were somewhat calming, as though he was offering to protect her from James, despite not knowing what was going on, or perhaps he did.

“You finally grew a p-“James’s words fell short as he turned to see a man, who was significantly taller than him, stood beside his girlfriend. “Hello?”

“Hi, names Bo,” Bo’s tone was a lot blunter than the charming one he had been using previously. “You need something?” He repeated his previous words, instead this time to James and less kind. “You are in my garage after all.”

Despite knowing that Bo could easily subdue him, James chose to get angry anyway. “You got a problem with me? Don’t leave it unlocked if you don’t want people coming in,”

“James leave it,” Y/N gently pushed herself between Bo and James as James began to try get into his face. “Just ask him for what you need and let’s go.”

“Fine, we need a fan belt. Fifteen inch.”

“I might be able to do that, but you’ve already had a look so let me know what I’ve got,” Bo smirked at the angered expression on the mans face at his words.

So maybe he did have a problem with James, a problem neither of the couple knew of.

“Not a fifteen,”

“Then they’re back at the house,”

“The house? Why would they be there?”

“Deliveries are delivered there, easier for everyone really.”

Y/N watched as the two men interacted, Bo incredibly calm whilst James was boiling with anger. Part of her was scared of how he would react, his threat about ‘waiting till they’re alone’ floating around in her mind, yet some strange part of her felt safe knowing that Bo was there. Perhaps it was the fact that he could fight him with ease, or maybe that James would, most likely, never harm her in front of another person.

“Let’s just go,” She pleaded, desperation swimming in her Y/E/C orbs.

“No, I’ll stay, you go.” James seemed pleased with this idea, smirking at the way his girlfriends body tensed; he enjoyed the fear he caused her.

“That’s fine with me,” Bo chimed in, offering Y/N a smile. “That fine with you?”

“Yeah, yeah that’s fine.”

“Let me just lock up,” Bo said, leading the visitors out into the street, much to James’s dismay, before locking up. “Let’s go then.” He gave James one last sarcastic smile before leading Y/N away from him.

*

“Do you live with anyone here?”

Y/N and Bo had been talking for a while now, having chosen to take a slow walk instead. He was nice, to her anyway. She felt as though he understood her, despite not knowing a thing about her.

“Nah, I live with my brother,” Came his response, winking at the girl as he ran a hand through his dark hair, enjoying the way she blushed under his gaze.

She knew it was wrong, finding him both attractive and sweet. But he was both of those, and James was neither, not to her at least. Maybe it was because he was the first person to be this kind to her in a long time, or maybe it was the feeling of safety she felt around him, but she was enjoying his company more than anyone else’s.

“Oh, that must be fun!”

Bo chuckled at her enthusiasm, “I suppose so,”

The pair walked up to Bo’s home, guilt filling the girl’s chest each time she let Bo’s hand brush against her own. She simply enjoyed the sparks flying throughout her body, forgetting about the pain she would receive later as a punishment.

“We’re here,” Bo’s words pulled Y/N from her thoughts, almost tripping over a rock as she came back to reality. “Easy there,” Bo shook his head whilst smiling as he caught her, sneakily pulling her body into his own without her realising it was not an accident.

“Thank you,” she blushed, unknowingly allowing herself to melt into his touch, feeling the need to savour every kind and gentle touch she was getting from a stranger.

“No problem, darling,” he smirked, once again enjoying the way she blushed at the nickname he had given her.

Hand still around her waist, Bo guided her into his home.

“Take a seat, I need to get out of this horrible suit.” His words caused a giggle to leave Y/N’s lips, her head nodding as she took a seat on the faded leather couch, watching Bo leave the room to go change.

*

“Sorry to keep ya waiting, Darl.” Bo’s voice startled Y/N, her body jolting in a way that made Bo feel slightly guilty, something that he rarely felt. “Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you.”

“No, it’s okay. It was my fault,” she offered him a weak smile, twiddling with the hem of her short-sleeved t-shirt when he seated himself beside her.

“That looks painful,” his hands cautiously reached out to gently take her hand, fingers lightly running across a hand-shaped bruise that had began to form. “You shouldn’t let him treat you like that,” Bo’s spare hand reached up to her face, hand cupping one cheek which made her flinch, Bo frowning at the action.

“S-sorry,”  

Bo had no idea why she was apolgoising to him. It had been him that touched her, but it all made sense in his head.

“Does he hit you?”

Her lack of response was enough for him to understand to full situation.

“I’m sorry,”

“Don’t be, darling.” He sighed, hand moving from her cheek to her neck to pull her head towards his lips, planting a soft kiss on it, something that made her almost cry along with his sweet words.

“Thank you,” her own arms wrapped around his torso, grateful to be given affection without it feeling forced.

*

“You took your time,” James spat as Y/N walked towards him, Bo having quickly headed to the gas station for something that she couldn’t remember the name of. “Were you shagging him or something?”

“N-no,” the nervousness in her voice was something that caused Y/N to cringe, knowing that he wouldn’t believe her.

“Oh, you were.” James’s hands balled into fists as he stalked towards her, ready to attack.

“No, I had to get changed,” Bo’s deep voice startled both of them, James’s fists unclenching immediately.

“Sorry, man. Can’t be too careful with girls like these, can you?” He laughed, trying to play off his previous words as a joke.

“Can’t be too careful with men like yourself either, can you?” Bo’s words seemed innocent, despite having a deeper meaning.

“What?” James snapped. “You told him about us?” He yelled as he turned to face Y/N whose breathing was becoming laboured in fear. “You little bitch!”

As James began to march towards his girlfriend, a tight hand grabbed his fist, spinning him to face the holder only to not be able to see because of a hard punch hitting him in the jaw. The only thing he could hear was a gasp from Y/N and the ringing in his ears as he dropped to the ground.

“Not so tough now, are you?” Bo sniggered. “You can hit a woman but the second a man touches you, you’re out cold. Pathetic,”

Y/N stood frozen to the spot, unsure of how to react.

She hadn’t expected Bo to attack him. In fact, she hadn’t expected him to do anything at all to him or about her situation. Those who knew didn’t care, so why would a stranger?

“You fucking dick!” James screamed, climbing back onto his feet to throw a punch at Bo, one that he barely reacted to.

“Leave him alone!” Y/N yelled, darting between James and Bo, shoving James away from him to the best of her ability.

“You fucking whore. I should’ve known this is what would’ve happened. Actually, I guess I already did.” His words were fast, but his fist moved towards her faster.

Bo was quicker however, grabbing the man’s fist and twisting it behind his back before kicking his legs from beneath him, effectively knocking him to the ground again.

“Vincent!” Bo yelled. “Got one for ya,” both Y/N and James were confused at his words, fear filling them both as a masked man came running out into the street, knife in hand.

Bo took Y/N’s hand, pushing her behind his hand so that she couldn’t see the horror that Vincent was committing to her boyfriend in full glory.

“Y-you killed him…” Her words were quiet, watching from one eye as the man, who she assumed to be Vincent, tugged away the lifeless body. “Are you going to kill me too?”

“You’re safe here, Y/N.” Bo’s words were quiet, praying nobody else heard his true self speaking. “I’ll take care of you. Nobody will ever hurt you again, my sweet little darling.”  

[watevermelon]

Haikyuu Masterlist

Social Media AU’s:

Distance | Akaashi Keiji x Reader x Atsumu Miya (smau)

✧ Summary: Childhood friends with Atsumu Miya, you followed your crazy friend’s antics from high school to pro-league, taking up the job as manager for the Division 1 Black Jackals. The team welcomed you in immediately, but you were slowly developing eyes for a distant friend. ➳  genre: smau, lots of humor, even more angst, fluff ➳  status: ongoing

Long-Fic’s

Karasuno

Fate | Kageyama Tobio x Reader (One-shot)

✧ Summary: For years you watched Kageyama grow - from his time as king of Kitagawa Daiichi to the seemingly aloof setter on Karasuno. Your lives were a set of near misses; distant friends, but never getting any closer. You figured that once you entered Shiratorizawa High that it would be the end of your friendship. Thankfully, it was only the beginning.  ➳ Tags: Slight Oikawa x Reader; Fluff with very minimal angst; Reader transfers from Seijoh to Shiratoriazawa so there’s drama; I love Oikawa but oooF this is not a good fic of him; Iwaizumi and Semi are great friends 

Itachiyama:

Quiet Sort of Love | Sakusa Kiyoomi x Reader (one-shot)

✧ Summary: Manager to the Fukurōdani volleyball club, there was no doubt that Itachiyama’s Sakusa Kiyoomi was a strong ace. He brought your team to their knees on multiple occasions, but what you were not expecting was getting to know the nationally acclaimed spiker beyond just the titles and labels. ➳   Warnings: Implicating language and slight spoilers toward the end (you will be warned beforehand :)) ➳   Tags: Buckle up boys cause this is a LONG one LMAO -> lots of fluff, angst, slight BokuAka, character development, and mutual pining at one point,

Envy | Sakusa Kiyoomi x Reader (one-shot)

✧   Summary: Childhood friends with Sakusa Kiyoomi, you were sure that your unrequited desires would simply stay that way. From play-dates in his backyard to being the manager to the Itachiyama volleyball team, you were content with watching your friend pursue his dream. ➳   Warnings: Explicit one-shot; smut ➳   Tags: Porn with Plot; Unreliable Narrator; Jealousy but actual mutual pining; lots of Humor; semi-public sex; dominant Sakusa; near face-fucking; finger fucking; eating out ((let’s just include every fucking tag on this lmao)) 

Inarizaki

Patience is a Virtue | Shinsuke Kita x Reader (one-shot)

✧ Summary: You lost track of the days that you were in love with Kita. He was so much more than just the team mom that many outsiders dubbed him as. He was the wielder of cold-logic and held the bluntest of words at times, but he showed his own special brand of care for each member of the team. What you hadn’t expected was for him to especially care about you. ✧ Warnings: Language because twins lmao ➳ Tags: Childhood friends to lovers; mostly fluff; Atsumu being a little shit; mild jealousy on Kita’s part; introspection and some character development

MSBY Black Jackals (Time-skip Dynamic)

Not Just a Soldier | (AoT! MSBY Black Jackals x Reader)

Introduction | Sakusa Kiyoomi Route | Atsumu Miya Route | Hinata Shoyou Route | Bokuto Koutarou Route

✧   Summary: (Attack on Titan x Haikyuu) In an effort to unlock the secrets behind Titans, you got injured during one of Tendou’s Scout Regiment experiments. This was nothing new, but even you were surprised at how much those boys cared about you. ➳ Warning: Language and Attack on Titan Canon Violence ➳ Tags: Reader x MSBY Black Jackals; Slight Reader x Schwdien Adlers; Takes place before the Fall of Trost

Nekoma

Unrequited | Kuroo Tetsurō x Reader (one-shot)

✧ Summary: Years of unrequited feelings and longing looks for your childhood best-friend Kuroo, it was only when he was in the arms of another that he finally realized his true feelings for you; when it is almost too late. ➳ Tags: lots of fluff, angst, BokuAka, slight Akaashi x Reader, Yaku and Akaashi are actually amazing friends,  

Seijoh:

Distant | Oikawa Tooru x Reader (one-shot)

✧ Summary: Girlfriend to Oikawa Tooru, you were proud of what he was doing to chase his dream. The fruits of his success seemed evident to all - from various newsletters, covers on volleyball magazines - every day his fame was going. And yet every day... you were growing apart. ➳ Warnings: K+ :) [one of the first few things I wrote so a little rough] ➳  Notes:  Angst, Happy Ending, Cast from Free! make an appearance!!

Shiratorizawa

Possessive | College!Ushijima Wakatoshi x Reader (one-shot)

✧ Summary: Libero to the women’s Fukurōdani volleyball club, you moved away from Miyagi and to Tokyo during your first-year. And while you cherished your high school years, you wondered how different it might have been if you stayed with your childhood friends at Shiratorizawa. After a failed confession, you were more than surprised to re-connect with the strong ace in college. ✧ Warnings: Implicating language and some outdated head-cannons ✧ Notes: Fukurodani crew! Akaashi being an instigator from Kuroo’s influence probably, subtle jealous moments, cleared-up misunderstandings, angst, and mutual pining at one point

Jealous | Eita Semi x Reader (one-shot)

✧ Summary: You thought you were content with your relationship so far - Semi was your best friend and these past few years were some of the most memorable. But all of that quickly changes with some outside forces. ➳ Tags: Angst with a happy ending; some humor

Expectations | Shirabu Kenjiro x Reader (one-shot)

✧ Summary: Having attended Shiratorizawa Academy from junior high, you were familiar with most of the students in your year. They were average, nothing special — until a certain vbc setter, from god knows whatever small town junior high he crawled out of, changed up your world. -> Tag: maybe language cause it’s shirabu; fluff and slight angst

✎ Short Requests (Angst ✵; Fluff ❀ ; Humor ☼; ✉ Texting/Social Media)

Akaashi Keiji: Cheating!Akaashi x Reader✵ 1. Realizes his mistake and begs for forgiveness (you don’t accept) ✵❀ 2. Goes Yandere ✵ (this one is fucked up, you are warned) ➳ Waking up to the nightmare✵ (NSFW; again, fucked up)  3. Sees her years later (MSBY BJ time) ✵❀ 4. It was all a dream ❀ You become distant during exam season & fight; later get back together ✵❀

Atsumu Miya: Accidentally makes you jealous and then vice versa ✉ ✵ ❀ Texts when he’s traveling far away (MSBY BJ) ✉ ❀ As “I want a Baby” Response (MSBY BJ) Jealous Atsumu in the car (NSFW) ☼ MSBY Atsumu x Soulmate  ✵❀ Atsumu accidentally confesses to you ✵☼✉

Bokuto Koutarou: As “I want a Baby” Response (MSBY BJ)

Hinata Shoyou: As “I want a Baby” Response (MSBY BJ)

Iwaizumi Hajime: You become distant during exam season & fight; later get back together ✵❀

Kuroo Tetsuro: Cheating!Kuroo x Reader ✵☼ You become distant during exam season & fight; later get back together ✵❀

Oikawa Tooru: Texts w/ your Slytherin Boyfriend ☼✉ Having an S/O despite their busy pro schedulle (based from Hamilton’s “That would be enough“)  ✵❀

Osamu Miya: As “I want a Baby” Response (HQ timeskip) With an s/o with Haphephobia (a fear of being touched) ❀

Sakusa Kiyoomi: Accidentally making you feel self conscious ✉ ✵ ❀ Lashes out on you because of stress  ✉ ✵ ❀ Secretly Dating and the team finds out ✵ ❀ Soulmate AU where reader is the Karasuno Manger ❀ As “I want a Baby” Response (MSBY BJ) With an s/o with Haphephobia (a fear of being touched) ❀ Revealing that you’re pregnant & he acts negatively initially: ✉✵❀ Part 1 || Part 2 || Part 3 Compares you to his ex on your anniversary: ✉✵❀ Part 1 || Part 2 Angst w/ an S/O who loves touch  ✵❀ Gets Jealous and takes it too far ✵❀✉

Sugawara Kōshi: Florist!Suga x Reader ❀

Ushijima Wakatoshi: Secretly Dating and the team finds out ✵ ❀

[abiggaynerd]

What made me ship maxwil. Sorry this is really just a jumbled mess JKNKJN but hope u enjoy reading it anyway. Under a cut because its too fucking long

Wilson and Maxwell are don’t starve’s main characters. They show up in the original game’s intro movie together. 

Maxwell speaks to Wilson on the radio, offers him a deal, and Wilson takes it. 

Now, think about that- Wilson, with no hesitation, takes a stranger’s dubious offer from a radio that is NOT supposed to be two-ways. He ruins his life without even thinking about it. 

This shows us how DESPERATE Wilson is for human contact. 

Wilson lives alone in a house, far away from his family who hates him, and not a single friend. Some might say Wilson doesn’t like people. But what i see is a person who ADORES people, being forced to be apart from them (exactly like maxwell) because no one will take him seriously. Wilson is working this hard because he is convinced if he just makes one good invention, has one big break, then people will finally respect and like him. It’s not just that he wants knowledge for knowledge’s sake.

He has someone offering him exactly what he wants, and it’s not just the offer, it’s the fact someone is talking to him. Wilson wants someone to listen to him, and believe in him, and that is JUST as important as the knowledge, if not more so. Maxwell has complete faith in Wilson’s ability to make this portal. Wilson trusts maxwell more than anyone else, simply because he’s gotten the smallest bit of positive attention. 

That makes his betrayal absolutely crushing for Wilson. Wilson is the only person who explicitly says he hates maxwell in the first game. He feels betrayed much more personally than maxwell intended, he’s furious, and he finds out maxwell didn’t actually believe in him the way he thought. Wilson is forced once again to completely rely on himself. Wilson likes himself and believes in himself a lot, but he sort of has to. No one else will. And that’s a hard thing to deal with.

Wilson goes through the worlds, because he wants out, obviously. He is the only one to canonly reach the end of adventure mode. Wickerbottom may think he’s an idiot, but he’s the one who made it to the end of the line, not her. 

Wilson is likely expecting a boss fight here, or something, but what he gets is a sad, frail old man who is suicidal and has nothing. Maxwell has completely given up. When you free max, it says “take pity?” Wilson does. Wilson KNOWS this will end badly for him. Wilson KNOWS he’s not going to get anything in return. But Wilson frees him, because Wilson is unequivocally GOOD. Wilson cares about people, deeply, and would do anything for them. Wilson does not like to see people suffer, and Wilson will take on the pain for himself if he can. Maxwell has hurt him more than anyone, but Wilson still takes his place. 

Now if we look at this from Maxwell’s perspective: Wilson is just another person to trick into coming here. Maxwell is putting on a show, using all his charisma, doing what They brought him here for. It’s the same as everyone else. 

Something interesting about adventure mode is that maxwell does NOT want you to continue. He does his absolute best to keep you from getting to the end. Scaring you, killing you, bribing you. You think it’s cruelty or fear of you at first glance, but really: maxwell does NOT want you to suffer the way he does. 

Maxwell brings you here, puts you in a terrible world, but in his mind, NOTHING is worse than the throne. Look at him on the throne and look at him as a survivor- on the throne he has nothing but despair and the desire to die. As a survivor, he’s extremely peppy in comparison. The throne has ruined maxwell, and even though he’s past the point of caring if you come to the constant, he does NOT want to be the reason someone else is on the throne. 

But is the door itself a cry for help? Was that a subconscious thing maxwell did? Charlie doesn’t have an adventure mode. She seems quite happy on the throne. Or is it because the Them are tired of maxwell? Compare Charlie’s world to Maxwell’s: considerably harder. Charlie’s world may allow you to revive yourself, but Maxwell’s is objectively easier. Less bosses, less danger, more resources. Maxwell also tries to give you a world you can have everything you need in in adventure mode, which is THE BEST he can do for you- something probably only allowed because the Them know the survivors won’t take his offer. 

When you get to the throne, despite being in absolute mental agony, maxwell cannot make himself trick you into freeing him. Which he COULD. He could pretend the key will let you out, he could pretend it’s something he REALLLY doesn’t want you to do because oooooo its gonna free youuuu and send you to earthhhh. But he cannot allow himself to do that, because this is the last bit of kindness and humanity he has- giving you the knowledge that the throne is the worst fate possible here. He clearly doesn’t think you are going to do it until you do- he’s shocked and thrilled when he stands up. 

Wilson frees him, knowing everything, after everything, and that SHOCKS him. Maxwell considers Wilson his savior. He owes everything to him. 

They don’t see each other again until cyclum. Wilson attacks maxwell, and while some people may think it’s because he’s angry, i think it’s because he SAW maxwell die and assume it’s either an insanity hallucination come to kill him or a new monster come to trick him. When max doesn’t attack when Wilson stops, he stops. 

Now, there are a lot of things Wilson could do. He could leave, he could kill him, he could ignore him. But Wilson feeds him. Maxwell is TOTALLY FINE. Max can get food himself. And food is a valuable resource. Wilson chooses to feed maxwell, because Wilson is good. They camp together, another thing Wilson doesn’t have to do. Wilson then decides to WORK WITH MAXWELL ON A PORTAL. AGAIN. Wilson makes the ACTIVE CHOICE to trust maxwell, with NO REASON TO. 

Now, we don’t know exactly what happens when the other survivors get there, but it stands to reason Wilson protects and defends max against the other survivors. Even though the portal failed AGAIN, and its possible max was fucking with him AGAIN. Wilson CHOSES to trust Max, even with evidence that could imply otherwise. 

If we look at the quotes, Wilson banters with max a lot, and can be annoyed with him. But when max is dead, Wilson explicitly reassures him he’s already working on reviving him. 

Maxwell, like Wilson, thrives on attention. He needs it, even if its negative. It’s easier for him to be someone to hate than just a sad man to pity. His persona- where he misses the throne and being king, is a lazy asshole, and hates everyone- is just that, a persona. Max is an actor, after all. He and wigfrid have this in common: he cannot handle being HIMSELF because being himself is terrifying. He doesn’t have anything as himself. He’s nothing as himself. I don’t think mentally he would be able to handle it! And Wilson knows this.

Maxwell also, when Wilson dies, asks if he really wants to come back. I think this is the only way he can think of to try to make up for bringing him here. It’s not much, but Wilson wouldn’t feel pain any more. Of course Wilson wouldn’t accept that, but maxwell offers because it’s the only thing he can think of.

Wilson is someone maxwell is nervous and shy around, when greeting. He’s the only one max shows explicit affection for. Like i said before, max sees Wilson as an angel, as his savior, but maxwell cannot handle it. It’s easier for him to be a huge asshole. But Wilson does not let him drive him away. 

I think the banter is something Wilson enjoys! Wilson is a sarcastic person, and he and max are intellectually equals. I think max is someone he really enjoys spending time with, as well as someone he would do anything for.

Now if we look at one of the more recent videos, with charlie, Winona, Wilson, and Max, maxwell sees charlie for the first time in a long, long time. He is frozen, but when Wilson calls him, he immediately follows him out. This shows me he puts Wilson on the same level as CHARLIE now, if not HIGHER. 

But something else that isn’t technically canon that made me ship it is this: when i played adventure mode for the first time, i got all the way to the end cutscene and died during it. I didn’t unlock max so i had to do it again. 

I restarted, and it made me think of Wilson KNOWING adventure mode was not a way out. KNOWING the end was not going to go well for him. But going through all five worlds, AGAIN, JUST to free maxwell. And that really got me to love the ship jknkjn

In conclusion maxwell and Wilson have an absolutely beautiful relationship, and it’s good. 

[ranboo5]

My biggest beef with Ranboo Evil Actually stuff is not the concept of my fave ever doing something wrong or anythin but that it is based on a similarly false image 

Ranboo (character) is absolutely positing to himself that he did all this stuff blew up the community house drastic atrocities etc. but we know for a fact that he’s not a reliable narrator! The fact that this is a plot point at all means we know he isn’t one! Conscious Ranboo is missing memories and dismissive of things that he really shouldn’t be and absolutely in denial about a lot of aspects of his current mental state, but the thing is like. When you’re in that kind of state the opposing voice saying YOU’RE EVIL YOU DID EVERY EVIL THING EVER YOU ARE SECRETLY THE EXACT THING YOU DESPISE is also you, as has also been made very clear both in and out of character... and you are not very clear on your mental state 

You don’t just have a secret inner monologue that is Actually Right about everything and that you just need to unlock. Ranboo (character) is prone to catastrophizing and worry, the very existence of the moral crisis means he’s going to worry about that hardcore, and he’s under a lot of stress. Yes, the inner monologue/Dreamboo/fakeDream/Muse/whatever its name is has information conscious!Ranboo doesn’t and/or isn’t willing to accept, but that doesn’t mean that it’s entirely right. That’s not how it works. In fact the depth of the accusations he’s lobbying at himself and his conscious reaction to it strikes me as very familiar in terms of intrusive thoughts about things you hate, especially since the “logical” reasoning for them tends to keep having to restructure itself and move goalposts to adapt to new information Ranboo gets. That’s not to say Ranboo doesn’t need to confront these thoughts and figure out what he’s missing and why but it IS to say that one should probably not take them as full truth when evidence strongly points to them being an exaggerated and catastrophized anxiety preying on his fears 

And not only does stuff like “Ranboo blew up the community house” come from said unreliable source and isn’t really consistent with Ranboo’s characterization and morals in general (which don’t seem to change in enderwalk state!), but that also means that it’s not using the actual flaws in his moral reasoning and rationalization and self-justification, and Fucked Up And Evil Ranboo bears only a superficial resemblance to the kind of harm Ranboo could and may be actually doing and why. Ranboo isn’t and was never malicious; he’s complacent, nonconfrontational, quick to rationalize away events and flaws in his actions, self-centered (not in an “I’m the best” way but in the way that accidentally assumes things are focused on him/an anxiety-based one), secretive to a fault, and generally has issues with getting lost in his own brain when trying to sort himself out. All of these are traits that could in varying ways motivate him yes even to help Dream or smth (though I do think that doing so directly/as Ranboo presents it is unlikely), AND could be explored for the harm they can and do cause in and of themselves 

Ranboo needs to come to terms with what he’s actually done -- which it is looking like he did do, both conscious and not -- and what his nonalignment policy has meant in effect without deciding he’s absolved of everything and avoiding any and all implication otherwise OR deciding he’s secretly guilty of every crime on the server. Ranboo can be explored in a negative and even antagonistic light without suddenly making him an evil murder mastermind at Dream’s fully informed right hand or w/e and honestly if that’s how it ends up in canon I will be. Very dismayed considering how relatable and realistic the presentation of those kinds of thought processes has been in regards to my experiences w/ them 

Tl;dr: Ranboo Secretly Evil <<<<<< Ranboo actually antagonistic and dodging accountability in accordance with his actual presented character flaws send tweet 

[hale-13]

Scare Tactics

By Hale13

For the Summer of Whump Day 19 Prompt - Fear

“And just to show you we mean business…” Peter flinched when his index finger was grabbed and sharply snapped in half, leaving him breathless. He didn’t scream though. He wasn’t going to give them the satisfaction. “Tough kid,” the leader mused, petting Peter on the head. “I’m going to let my men work him over,” he said to the camera lightly. “You pay me within the next four hours and I won’t start cutting off things he’ll miss. Sure would be a shame… he’s got his whole life ahead of him you know.”

Words: 2407, Chapters: 1/1 (Complete), Language: English

Fandoms: Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)

Rating: Gen

Relationships: Peter Parker & May Parker, Peter Parker & Tony Stark

Character: Peter Parker, May Parker, Tony Stark, Happy Hogan

TW: Canon Typical Violence, Kidnapping, Implied/Referenced Torture

Read on AO3 or below the line break.

“One more hour! C’mon, just one more hour please,” Peter begged, hands twitching and sweating as he looked around frantically. He could do it. He just had to do it.

“Whatcha doing Pete?” Tony asked right in his ear causing Peter to let out a high pitched scream and rip the VR headset off his head, nearly tossing it into the wall and only barely catching himself at the last second.

“What the fuck!” He exclaimed, panting and placing a hand over his racing heart – it was galloping under his fingertips. Tony, standing next to him with his hand extend like he was reaching out to touch Peter, had his face pinched up like he was trying not to laugh and failing spectacularly.

“What was that?” The man questioned, pulling the headset from Peter’s twitching fingers to set it down on the bed and safely out of reach lest Peter almost throw it again. “You okay?”

“You scared the shit out of me!” Peter told his mentor dramatically as his heart rate slowed to a more manageable rhythm. Damn he was so close to winning!

Tony quirked an eyebrow. “Thought you had a tingle or something,” he said with a teasing tone and that was it, Peter was never letting Tony and May have lunch together again. Tingle… seriously? “What were you doing anyway?” Tony asked, picking the headset back up and turning it around curiously in dexterous fingers.

“Playing FNAF,” Peter said with a shrug. “I had nearly won too!”

“Beg pardon?” Tony asked with a head tilt. “Did you just have a stroke? I don’t speak teenager.”

“It’s a game Mr. Stark,” Peter grumbled, grabbing the headset back to turn it off. “A horror game. You’re a security guard and you have to live through the night without a bunch of animatronic animals killing you.”

“Sounds exhausting,” Tony commented, passing Peter his untouched book bag – he was supposed to be doing homework while Mr. Stark was in a meeting but oh well. He could always do it later, it was the weekend after all. “Happy’s pulling the car around. You sure you don’t want to stay? It’s getting a bit late.”

“I’m good,” Peter insisted, throwing the bag over his back and tightening the straps a little to sit more comfortably. “Besides, May and I are supposed to marathon the new season of Lucifer tonight.”

“Ah yes,” Tony said with a smile. “Do tell aunt hottie I said hello would you? I’m looking forward to our monthly co-parenting coffee date next week – can’t wait to tell her about this!”

Peter groaned and blushed. “Please don’t,” he muttered, skirting around his mentor to get to the door. “See you next week?” He asked as he paused in the doorway, turning back to look at the man and smiling.

“Yeah I’ll see you next week kiddo. Don’t have too much fun this weekend!”

“Bye Mr. Stark!” Peter called as he raced to the elevator, bouncing impatiently on his toes as it descended to the garage where Happy was waiting in one of the many black town cars Stark Industries owned.

“Took you long enough,” he groused good naturedly as Peter hopped into the back, dropping his book bag into the foot well and buckling his seatbelt with a bright ‘hey Happy!’ before pulling out his battered copy of The Collected Works of Shakespeare. He was supposed to finish MacBeth before class on Monday morning and he had been putting it off for a while (re: the last two weeks). Thank god for SparkNotes!

He read in the peaceful silence of the car as Happy navigated the busy Manhattan roads into the more quiet streets of Queens, finally pulling to a stop in front of Peter’s building and unlocking the doors. “See you Monday kid,” he called as Peter jumped out of the car.

“Thanks for the ride Happy!” Peter answered as he shut the door and waved the car off before letting out a sigh. It had been a long week and he was looking forward to just hanging out with May and decompressing. He felt like he barely saw her these days since she moved to working nights – it had been way too long since their last Netflix binge sesh. Peter took the stairs two at a time, forgoing the ancient and slow elevator, and was soon standing outside his door, fumbling for his keys.

As he went to slip the correct key into the lock, Peter felt every hair on his body stand on end as a shiver tore through him. He paused and looked up and down his hallway. Everything was quiet and peaceful, nothing out of place, so why was his Spidey sense tingling? With a gulp, Peter looked at his door and felt his heart freeze in his chest. May!

Peter swiftly unlocked the door and threw it open only to pause just over the threshold.

May was seated in one of their kitchen chairs, pulled into eye line of the door to the apartment, and looking pale but utterly pissed as the masked man behind her jammed the muzzle of his gun further into her temple. Peter, his heart nearly beating out of his chest and his adrenaline spiking to leave a metallic taste in his mouth, held his hands up immediately in surrender. As if it would ever be a question with May involved.

“Close the door,” the man said firmly, jutting his chin and Peter felt it snap closed behind him, paying no mind to the other invaders that were scattered around the room, his eyes stuck only on May.

“What do you want?” He asked, surprised that his voice was steady – he could tell that his body was still and sure but inside he felt like he was about to shake apart; like he was standing in the epicenter of an earthquake.

“Your cooperation mostly,” the man with the gun answered, passing the weapon off to one of his underlings and approaching where Peter stood motionless, hands still raised, just inside the door. His eyes were a pale blue and they scraped over Peter’s form quickly before he held out his hand. “Phone, watch, bag. Give me anything that Stark might have chipped and don’t try anything funny. I’d hate for anything… untoward to happen to your Aunt.”

“Okay,” Peter agreed, slowly pulling his bag off his shoulders and letting it drop to the floor with a thump. One of the men behind him picked it up and started riffling through it as Peter unlatched his watch and passed it over along with his phone. He was grateful that he hadn’t brought his suit with him to school today or he’d have a much bigger problem – assuming they didn’t already know he was Spider-Man of course.

“Search him,” the man called out as he dropped Peter’s phone and watch to the floor before pointedly stomping on them until they broke. Peter fought to hold still as he was patted down, making eye contact with May. She gave a minute shake of her head and Peter bit his tongue hard enough to draw blood. He knew she didn’t want him to compromise his identity for her but he would do whatever he could to keep her safe – Spider-Man be damned.

“He’s clean,” one of the goons called out, nudging Peter forward and forcing him to sit down opposite May.

“Peter Parker,” the leader mused, walking over until he took up all of Peter’s sight leaving May out of view and ratcheting Peter’s already frantic heart rate up more. “Tony Stark’s personal intern. How does one get that job eh?” He looked at Peter expectantly and Peter grit his teeth together.

“Right place right time,” Peter grunted, his eye contact never wavering. The leader frowned behind his mask and smacked Peter sharply, causing his head to whip to the side. It was more surprising than painful and Peter glared back in obvious loathing.

“That will be your only warning,” the leader grunted, leaning down so he was eye level with Peter. “Next time it’ll be your aunt. Do I make myself clear?”

“Crystal,” Peter confirmed, gripping the arms of his chair tightly and trying to control his strength. By his count there were five men in their apartment. If he were alone or in the suit it wouldn’t be a problem but with May involved…

“Now let’s try again,” the man continued, pacing a circle around Peter’s chair like a shark circling prey and thus giving him the briefest chance to make eye contact with May again. The skin of her forehead was red and dented where the gun mashed into her face. But he eyes were full of fear and anger for Peter – her sight was locked on the cheek he could feel burning and already swelling. “How did you get your internship?”

“September Foundation,” Peter answered. “I submitted some of my work on clean energy and Mr. Stark was impressed enough to offer me the internship.”

The man hummed, stopping his circling and placed both hands on Peter’s shoulders, squeezing them. “But it’s not just an internship anymore now is it?” He questioned, tone light. “I doubt any normal intern gets access to Stark’s personal lab or stays overnight. For a while I thought you might be his bastard but, no, it doesn’t seem you are.” Peter tensed at the words and bit down hard on the inside of his cheek, tasting blood. “However you are important enough for him to pay handsomely for I’d wager.”

“He won’t,” Peter insisted, not breaking eye contact with May – she looked terrified now and he wasn’t sure who she was scared for most. “He doesn’t negotiate with kidnappers.”

“We’ll see,” the man said lightly, unconcerned. “Here’s the deal Parker. You’re going to come with us, quietly, and I won’t put a bullet through your aunt’s skull. I hear that you watched your uncle bleed out from something similar – wouldn’t want another death on your conscience now would you?” Peter flinched violently, unable to hold it back and felt tears prick at his eyes. He couldn’t cry now. Not in front of these assholes. “You’re going to come with us and, once we get you back to base, I’ll call in the order to let your aunt go. If they don’t hear from me within the next six hours… well I’m sure you can figure it out.”

Peter nodded slowly and tried to silently apologize to May – she was watching him with tears now cascading down her cheeks and shaking her head, begging him not to give in. “I’ll do whatever you want,” Peter agreed, sealing his fate.

His Spidey-sense screamed at him and he forced himself to hold still as the gun clocked him across the temple, knocking him out instantly.

—————————————

When Peter finally woke up some indeterminate amount of time later it was to a throbbing head and aching neck from sitting slumped over and tied to the most uncomfortable chair he had ever had the displeasure of sitting in. He opened his eyes with a groan to look around the room. It was darkened, of course because why wouldn’t it be, and empty, also not a surprise. The door in front of him was made of a dark metal the same as the chair he was sitting in which was bolted to the floor.

He tested the cuffs that were binding his wrists to each arm of the chair and found that they weren’t reinforced and should break easily with his strength. So they didn’t know he was Spider-Man then – that was a plus. Peter could work with that.

Before he could look around much more or even try to formulate a plan, the door in front of him flew open to admit multiple people, all in masks, and a camera set up that had Peter’s blood running cold.

“I have to thank you for your cooperation,” the man from earlier said gaily as he entered the room last. “You made this much easier than anticipated.”

“My aunt?” Peter asked, voice wobbling a little but his eye contact unwavering.

“Fine. As we agreed,” the man confirmed, kneeling down a little to look directly into Peter’s eyes. “Now we’re going to make Stark a little video, a one-sided video chat if you will, to ask him for a little… monetary gift. All you have to do is sit here and look pretty while we do all the work okay?” He said condescendingly, running a hand through Peter’s hair before patting his cheek mockingly.

It took all of Peter’s willpower not to head butt him directly in the nose.

The set up was done fairly quickly, the camera pointed directly at Peter and the red light blinking. His captor came to stand right behind him, hands resting on Peter’s shoulders again.

“Oh looks like he’s tuned it! Hello Stark, I think I found something that belongs to you,” the leader said, squeezing Peter’s shoulders. “You shouldn’t just leave your things lying around you know. Don’t want them to get displaced.” Peter grit his teeth in irritation and humiliation – he couldn’t believe he had let himself get kidnapped – that he had put Mr. Stark in this position! “Anyway,” he continued lightly, “I have a little request. A trade if you will. I’ll give you back your intern and you give me twenty million dollars and a clean way out of the country. Shouldn’t be too hard for you right?”

Don’t do it Peter tapped out on the arm of the chair in hasty Morse code. Don’t give them anything. I’ve got this Peter tried to say with his eyes. Trust me.

“And just to show you we mean business…” Peter flinched when his index finger was grabbed and sharply snapped in half, leaving him breathless. He didn’t scream though. He wasn’t going to give them the satisfaction. “Tough kid,” the leader mused, petting Peter on the head. “I’m going to let my men work him over,” he said to the camera lightly. “You pay me within the next four hours and I won’t start cutting off things he’ll miss. Sure would be a shame… he’s got his whole life ahead of him you know.”

Later, his jaw hanging loose and his body aching with breaks and bruises, Peter will let a single tear fall.

The door knob turns and his adrenaline spikes.

[1zashreena1]

Emotional Spanking -8

18+, m/f, technically OCxDiego Jimenez [Power]

Summary: Princess has an emotional epiphany, a panic attack, a visitor, and a pleasant disciplinary action. In that order. 

WARNINGS: Ridiculous descriptions and ‘the code is more like guidelines’ outlook on grammar. Is it OOC if the character was given essentially zero development in canon???

SMUT. SPANKING. FEELS. the L word, previously completed kink negotiations, plus size woman+fit man, soft!Diego, immediately followed by hard!Diego, overwhelmed Princess, He Licks Everything, is a relationship happening??, literally no one knows, not even them

A/N:  Princess took on a life of her own and has essentially become an OC. There are infrequent mentions of her description (specifically as plus size) and her actual name in later pieces (its Bicki). She started as self-insert so she looks like me (plus size, white, short, blue eyes, curly hair). If that is not your thing, I totally understand. And do not feel obligated to read this, I will not be offended!

I’m not a fan of “plot” so be aware that most of this series is just meandering through their relationship, angst-fluff-smut whiplash style. But with dick jokes.

This piece is my baby.  My heart is in this one.  You have been warned.

TAGLIST: @chelsfic​​​ @symbiont13​​​ @nicke0115​​​ @bunnykjm​​​ @rosee-sensuelle​​​ @girlpornparadise​​​ @mandoplease​​​ @heresathreebee​​​ @xxsteph-enrixx​​​ @jetiikad​​​ @joalsglasses​​​ @mutantcookiesecrets​​​ @demoncatstone​​​ @squidlywiddly87​​​ @lockedoutofmyotherblog​​ @poeedamerons​

Whoever is banging on your door at 6:45 on a Monday morning is relentless. You know it's not your downstairs neighbors; the second floor apartment is still empty because your landlord is actually very sweet and doesn't just screen future tenants for ability to pay the rent, he tries to make sure they'll fit in with the current tenants too. And the little family on the first floor has that loud-ass two year old. There's no blabbery baby talk and the sound of the impact is damn near at the top of the door. So it's definitely Stranger Danger.

You're just going to wait it out. They have to give up at some point. And you've just spent three days ignoring literally everything in the universe, so really,  the odds are in your favor here.

Except… you live in a tiny little town. The population on the sign says 570, but they were being generous in counting all the farms within a 10 mile radius. No one comes to your door accidentally. People don't wander up three flights of exterior stairs on an old farmhouse in the middle of Pennsylvania Dutch Country while it's barely above freezing and still dark out. So there are two options:

Serial Killer.

Or, ugh, someone who knows you.

They're not stopping and it's starting to piss you off.

 "This better be a fucking murderer!" You mutter as you stomp to the door.  Impressive really, considering your pajama pants are over a foot too long and the apartment is carpeted. You reach the door and turn the deadbolt (banging still going on), unlock the doorknob (really, this is just excessive), and yank the door open with a war cry. 

"WHAT THE FUCK!"

Its Diego.

Its Diego looking... odd? You take a split second to catalogue his appearance, it's like a reflex at this point because you can't not ogle him every time his existence is within your range of sight. He's not wearing a belt?? His shirt is half untucked and his jacket extremely wrinkled. One side of his hair is completely flat, as if he slept on it, and his squinted eyes are very, very red. Like he just came off a three day bender. Or he's been crying, your traitorous brain oh so helpfully supplies.

Diego, frozen mid-bang, also takes this time to look you up and down. His eyebrows raise and his brow furrows, clearly not impressed. You're wearing the same pair of pajamas as the last three days. Mismatched socks (one is orange, the other neon green), the overly long drawstring punjammy pants with one cuff rolled up from your stomping, a shelf bra camisole that lost its ability to function as a bra sometime in the last decade, no make up, and your somehow greasy yet simultaneously frizzy floop of curls.

Softly, but with great feeling, he rasps, "What the fuck, Princess?"

Oh no, this is Not Good. This is so, very, incredibly, horrendously bad. Your right arm tenses in preparation to slam the door in his face. His left hand shoots out to land on the door, his arm taut to hold it motionless. He's keeping the door pinned to the wall so he can continue taking up all of the open space of the doorway with his massive body. You snarl silently at him but let go of the door because you know this is the one man who actually can physically overpower you. And you don't need a shattered door to match your shattered pride.

You aim for unbothered dismissive bitch when you ask, "What are you doing here?" 

You fail spectacularly when it comes out in a tremulous whisper. 

Instead of waiting for an answer you spin around and go left into the living/dining/kitchen largest-space-in-the-apartment all-purpose room. You collapse on your tiny sectional and tuck your feet up under you to sit cross legged. You can hear Diego slam the door and follow after you.  As he comes around the chaise of the sectional you reach behind yourself and grab the crocheted blanket your mom made off the back of the couch and desperately try to hide in it. All you want is to become invisible. Diego, of course, is not going to allow that. Asshole.

"What am I doing here? You have not answered anyone for three days! Not your normal phone, not the phone I gave you, not even a Facebook message from your mother! Your sister told Lisa that no one can reach you. Lisa called Julio! What have you been doing?? Clearly you have... gone nowhere…?"  His speech started off barking but had shrunk to down to a horrified whisper as he took in the state of your apartment.  Everything is everywhere.  There are dirty dishes on the breakfast bar. Hair bands scattered across every horizontal surface. A lone lip balm is abandoned on the floor among a sea of used tissues. 

--------

This is so not the woman he knows. There's no sarcastic snark of an answer. That woman would never leave something as important as a lip balm on the floor. Shit, she uses packing cubes for fuck's sake. As he kneels down to retrieve the tube of mint goop he hears it. The one sound that always makes him freeze up and opens a sinkhole in his belly: She's crying.

This unflappable woman who makes eye contact with all of his men, who never hesitates to lecture him on 'feminist theory', who gleefully stuffs an entire slice of pizza into her face while sitting in the VIP booth at the club with skinny models looking on in horror, and once called his bluff about putting on a show in the back of a limo by winking and telling Julio to watch them as she pushed him to his knees in front of her while simultaneously yanking up her miniskirt… is crying.

 And it's probably my fault. He's almost certain this is his fault. Who else could make her emotional like this? Is someone else important enough to be worth her tears? It had better be my fault. If it's someone else I will kill them.

He looks up to see she has wrapped herself entirely in that weird fuzzy blanket her mother somehow made. The whole blanket creation process had been a mystery to him despite listening to her mother explain it step by step. She even has it over her head like a hood. Which would be adorably hilarious if she weren't ugly crying. Ew, please stop.

It only takes two shuffling steps on his knees to reach her, the living room is so small. He wraps his hands entirely around her forearms and pulls her own hands from her face. How is she beautiful with snot running from her nose? Only for her to flinch backwards. Okay, ouch. 

"Look at me." He demands. She just scrunches her face harder. He tries a softer tone, "Please?"  That does it. Those bottomless eyes come up and they are so, so lagoon green rather than the normal deepest blue of the open sea. How does she do that?

"Tell me. Talk to me, Princess. Let me in." 

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

How does he do that? This large, intimidating, powerful, volatile man should not be able to make you feel safe of all things.  Blurting out your feelings to Lisa had been terrifying. Realizing what had just come out of your mouth had brought on a sense of fear so acute it was nauseating. But here you are, staring into that pleading chocolate gaze and wanting nothing more than to answer him. 

You can vividly remember the conversation that triggered this entire mess:

You came home from another insane weekend in New York and desperately needed to ruin your best friend's day with extremely detailed descriptions of your depravity. Lisa being Lisa, acted exaggeratedly horrified to hear that you demanded he fuck Franchesca in the bathroom so you could go down on her after to lick out his come while he then fingered you. Okay, maybe she wasn't  exaggerating… much. But she knows you. She was not surprised that you wanted to watch him rail Franchesca over a bathroom sink but he insisted on trying to choke you with his tongue while he did it. And she is not shocked that you licked Franchesca off in under two minutes-- or came for him just after. Lisa is still laughing about the finality of Diego's abrupt dismissal of Franchesca the second you come all over his hand when she tells you, "That asshole is a full on freak, girl. Perfect for you!" 

And the moment of your damnation, a soft sigh of an admission, "Yeah. I love him."

And you had removed yourself from all human contact for 3 days immediately following that. No social media, no phones, no internet. Nothing.

...so here you are.

His gigantic hands are wrapped around your forearms, fingers so long they overlap his thumbs. You're not afraid of those hands or their assumed capacity for violence. You should be; you know that, you're not stupid. Or maybe you are. After all, you trust this man who runs the most powerful fucking drug cartel in the western hemisphere and you've never even gotten a speeding ticket. While you've been lost in your musings, he released your forearms only to cup your face in those ridiculous hands. Those hands you love, you fucking dumbass. 

No other man has ever touched you like this. Never touched your face with reverence,  handled your body with an almost jealous possession, or ripped your heart open ever so gently with an earnest expression. He listens, enthralled, when you go off on a rant. He watches where you look while you're out and about. Like a hawk, he notices every shiny little thing you linger on, only for you to find it hidden in your luggage on the way home, wrapped neatly in a tiny box. You once told him that you don't like your elbows touched, it produces some weird overload sensation in your nervous system. And he never took your elbow in hand again, shifted to a hand on your lower back (or your ass, of course. Always a classic). He never seems to care what size is on the tag of the clothes he gets you, only that you like them and you like the way you look in them. He throws his head back with booming laughter when you scream obscenities at traffic. He always thanks you when you make food. Even if he does have to peel the cheese off… he just gives it back to you.

You may have gotten used to the private jet, the SUVs that cost more than your parent's house, the way every restaurant where he takes you has no prices, hell sometimes there isn't even a menu. You've even grown accustomed to the jarring dichotomy of coming home to an apartment the size of his penthouse bedroom while still dripping in precious stones and stuffing your new Louboutins in your purse for the three story climb.

But you're almost certain you will never be over the way your cardiovascular system seizes up when he captures you with a single look, or the functional failure of your lungs when his eyes crinkle with laugh lines, the complete implosion of your stomach when those damn dimples appear, or how your entire reproductive tract clenches with need when he licks his lips, and when your brain stutters to a halt because he lays those hands on your shoulders and swipes his thumbs up your jawline to stroke the pulse point under your ears while leaning his forehead on yours.

You realize you've just been staring at him like a moron for what must be for-fucking-ever. You can tell it's been a while because his eyebrows have lowered and he's starting to look a little defeated. You can feel the weight of his hands easing from your cheeks as he begins to pull back from you. Oh no you don't, you gorgeous fucking asshole.

You slap your hands down on his shoulders with entirely too much force and fling yourself off the couch directly into his lap with a level of violence usually reserved for people who won't put their phones away in a movie theater. He grunts with the sudden addition of your weight and teeters backwards for a second before smashing you into his body via the vise of his arms. You bury your face in his neck, where his stubbly beard catches on your stupid frizz, card your fingers through his amazingly soft hair, and start a whole new round of bawling. 

He's kissing the side of your neck, nuzzling into you like he wants to be inside your skin with you. His fingers are spread wide across your back, he's trying to touch as much of you as possible all at once. You can hear a soft, keening whine but you have no idea which one of you is making it. Does it even matter? 

The noise stops when you feel his teeth gently sink into the join of your neck and right shoulder. Oh. Guess it was him. His right hand dips low to palm your ass cheek and flatten you further against him. You automatically squeeze your legs around his hips in response.

You realize he's not hard. The shock of this revelation further delays you in understanding that someone is talking. And that someone is you. 

"Please please, I'm sorry, please." Hiccup. "Its never- I've never been. I'm scared. It's too much and I'm scared." Another sob. "You keep leaving and it's just. What i-i-i-if you don't come back?" A stuttering inhaled gasp. "Who am I w-w-w-without you? What do I do?" A coughing sob. "You m-m-m-make me weak like this and I fucking h-h-hate it!" And you dissolve into another round of wailing sobs. You know you're practically screaming but you can't seem to stop. Your left hand is clawed into his hair and your right is fisted in the collar of his jacket, ruining the Armani. You're fairly certain the mess of snot and drool leaking out of your face isn't doing any favors for his shirt either.

He's just… letting you. Just letting you ruin his stupid expensive clothes and have a meltdown all over him. Like this is okay. Like it's no big deal. His left hand is rubbing circles over your ribcage while you howl. He releases your neck to raise his chin and tuck you up underneath it. Rubbing his goatee over your hair, then kissing the top of your head so incredibly gently. That can't smell good, you think hysterically.

Your sobs are finally starting to ease but he hasn't made a move to let go yet. You start to wonder how long he's going to kneel here holding you. Can it be forever?

It finally registers that his breathing is rough, labored. His shoulders are shaking under you. Now you're legitimately frightened. 

"Diego?" You finally work up the nerve to speak. You hate the way your voice sounds like a small child. "...baby?"  He is slowly stiffening under you and not in the fun way. You start to pull your face back from his neck only for his left hand to shoot up into your hair and hold you in place. It's not painful but it's definitely not soft either. Your breathing is starting to speed up. You instinctively know something important is about to happen. And it terrifies you.

He is holding you so tight its bordering on painful when he finally speaks into your hair.

"Why. Tell me why you fear that I never return. You are not weak. And this is not hate." He uses the hand in your hair to pull your head back. You fight it at first, it's just your nature. Then you squeeze your eyes shut and let him move you like a ragdoll. With no vision you don't know what he's doing until you feel the press of his forehead against your own. He bumps his nose against yours then rubs his bristled cheek against your soft one. You realize he's rubbing you like a cat and it makes you smile ruefully. My Murder Panther.

With his lips pressed right to your ear, he rumbles ever so softly, "Tell Diego, Princess."

Your whole body seizes up with the sensation. Oh, you fucking bastard. You would say it aloud except the undercurrent of fear in his voice gives you pause. He's afraid. He's afraid of you. Of the possibility of your rejection. Just like in the kitchen when he blurted out that he wanted to keep you. The way he froze, paralyzed in fear, after he whispered that he loved you. It's the same soft, lost little boy voice, the slight tremble in tone, the uncertainty. 

And this time...this time, you can't take it. Tears slowly slip down your cheeks as you squeeze your eyes shut even tighter. You remember the night you met. His breathtaking smile when you turned the tables on him. Those damn dimples. When you felt the gun in the back of his pants. The moment you decided to do what you wanted and not what you should. Fuck it.

You press your own lips to his ear, his grip in your hair pliant enough to allow it. He's shaking under you. The fingers of his right hand are digging into your hip like claws, you find the pain grounding. Knowing that you're in control of this entire moment is both thrilling and terrifying. You could break him, right here and now. Fuck it.

And he would let you. This rich, powerful, enigmatic man who has already confessed his love to you. Fuck it.

"Diego.." You breathe into his cheek. He shudders under you and sighs out in a broken whimper. 

Fuck it.

"Diego… I love you."

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

There's a long moment that nothing happens. Everything is frozen in place. He doesn't even breathe for fear that he'll wake up from this, just like the dream from a few weeks ago.  When he does remember to inhale it's a raspy choke of a gasp. It hurts, he realizes. Is it supposed to hurt? 

His eyes are burning. Taking an immediate red eye flight from LA and then driving three hours to her place was probably not his best plan, but he had been terrified. He had needed to have her exactly where she is right now.

He loosens the grip in her hair and turns his face into hers to rub his wet lashes on her cheek. Her hands are coming forward to frame his jaw, hands so tiny and soft. He has refrained from saying it himself for fear of scaring her off. He knows its selfish and he doesn't care, he wants to hear it again. Over and over. Until it stops hurting.

"Diego?" Her voice is so soft, harsh from crying yet still so high. He opens his eyes to see that she still has hers closed. He slides his goatee over her skin until his lips hover over hers.

"Again." He murmurs, "Please, my princess. Tell me you will let me keep you."

‐-------------------------

This couldn't hurt more if he'd reached into your chest and snatched your heart with his bare hands. He sounds so small and hopeful, so vulnerable. Am I his first? The first person to love him?

You can't stand this man begging for your affection. You find yourself wanting to give him everything.  Your secret is already out; in for a penny in for a pound, right?

You take a deep breath and dive in head first because you're a fucking Scorpio, damnit.

"Diego, baby." You stroke his cheeks, petting down his stubble with the direction of the growth. Just like you would pet any other cat, you find yourself grinning. You open your eyes to see him so close its dizzying. His are shut but his expression is pure yearning, eyebrows drawn down and brow furrowed, jaw tensely solid, wet lashes stuck together in spiky pieces. "I love you." 

He chokes and his eyes snap open to meet yours. Now it's your turn to muck up the basic process of breathing. There's so much everything in his eyes you feel like you're drowning. Every fucking romance novel cliche was right.

"Again." He demands. In typical Diego fashion, he wants it and he wants it now. You can't help your smile growing wide. There's my Murder Panther.

"I love you." You maintain eye contact while leaning your forehead against his. "I love you." Its like you can't stop yourself. You brush your lips over his goatee, he chases you back to ghost a kiss on your lips. "I love you." Its just pouring out of you now.

"I-" Kiss.

"Love-" Kiss.

"You." Kiss. 

You expect him to keep kissing you. To slide that perfectly wicked tongue between your lips and drive you even further insane. But he doesn't. He pulls back to pant in your face, then closes his eyes and whimpers. You watch the play of emotions across his features, so quick you can't identify a single one. He finally gathers himself into some cohesive comprehensible thought and speaks:

"I dont. I have never. You have to, to do the...uhh… help?"

Or not.

You can hear so much in that soft rumble. Fear, relief, uncertainty, pleasure, hunger, but most of all, trust. He's trusting you. Trusting that you know what to do. Trusting that you can lead him on this new path. Trusting that you'll take care of him. This man who leads the largest criminal outfit on the continent and is intimidated by nothing, entrusts his being to you. It's like being stabbed in the heart, a searing pain that brings tears to your eyes and a painfully wide smile to your lips.

You slide the thumb of your right hand forward to swipe over his cheekbone. Your left hand goes back to stroke his hair. He nuzzles into your right hand, beard both soft and scratchy. Just like him, all contradictions.  You can see his lashes flutter and you open your mouth to speak but…

Wait a minute.

Seriously???

"Diego… Are you staring at my tits?"

He's not even remotely repentant. "They are just. Right There! And no bra!"

You throw your head back and laugh. You laugh so loud it hurts your throat and brings tears to your eyes. You laugh until you're gasping for air. When you finally open your eyes and look at him your heart tries to crawl up and out of you just to get to him. 

He's staring up at you, eyes wide with adoration and jaw hanging open in wonder. You bend forward to rest your forehead on his again. "You soft little Murder Panther." You don't even bother trying to hide your ridiculously pleased smirk.

His right hand slides up your hip to your lower back while the left lowers slowly from your hair to the back of your neck. His lips curl up at the corners. His gaze is still soft as he murmurs, "Only for you, my princess."

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

She's so soft in his arms. Relaxed and loose, trusting that he'll take her weight without buckling and keep her safe from falling. It makes his chest ache and his eyes burn. He raises his chin, bringing his lips to her, only she dives down for him at the same moment, colliding together just this side of too much, too fast. Always so eager, the thought makes him groan deeply. She shivers in response and whines, so high pitched it makes his ears ring.

She's curling her fingers in his hair, using the leverage to tilt his head to the angle she wants while he kisses her. He's rubbing his lips over hers, making sure to apply enough pressure that her fair skin will show the beard burn later. When he feels her left arm begin to tense he goes to draw back to look at her… only for her to yank on his hair. He yelps, and she seizes the opportunity to delve her tongue into his mouth. Holy fuck, she is perfect.

And then she's abruptly pulling back. No no no no no no! 

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

Like a slap upside the head, you suddenly remember that you haven't showered...for three days. Fuuuuuuuck.

"Wait, wait Diego, hold on-" In the time it takes you to whine those five words he's already moved on to your neck. His left hand is threaded back into your hair and holds tight close to your scalp to gently but steadily pull. Just how you like it.

"Uhhhhhhhhh wuhhh…" Oh yes, so eloquent. He's rubbing that fucking goatee everywhere and you're about fourteen seconds away from passing out. You put your hands on his shoulders and start to push him backwards. He growls in displeasure and you whimper. Okay, maybe a little more, your traitorous brain isn't even helping here. You try again, "Baby, baby. I haven't. Oh god, yes. Uhh huh. Wait, just, can you pause? Mmmmmm… Oh my god, Diego stop!" Apparently barking works.

He growls again but manages to disengage from tormenting your neck with one last long lick. Do not think about that tongue! 

"Fucking what?" He mutters, breathing hard. "I cannot have you? Now?" How very Diego. He's blinking at you in agitated confusion, pupils blown wide and flushed lips parted. His hand in your hair is shaking, the other has sunk back down to grip your ass very, very securely.

You can feel your face flushing with embarrassment. Your gaze darts off to the left, this is mortifying.  "I haven't showered in three days. I smell." When you finally manage to make eye contact again he's grinning. Oh no.

"Oh si, Princess. I can smell you." His tone is arrogant, but the thickening of his accent betrays just how aroused he really is. His left hand slides down to your butt, too. That grin is all teeth, Pure apex predator. 

"Yeah, that's what I me-yeeeeen!" He doesn't let you finish. Instead he slides both hands under you, where ass meets thigh, and picks you up to deposit you back onto the couch. You always squeal in delight when he picks you up, That is never gonna get old. The moment your weight is on the cushion he brings his hands forward and then around your inner thighs to spread your legs wide. Before you can even register what is happening he dives down into your lap, burying his face in your crotch and inhaling deeply. 

While your brain has stalled in shock (because Are you fucking serious?) your hips have decided this is a great idea and lurched forward to practically hump his face. His exhale is the longest, loudest, sexiest groan you have ever heard. Your hands fly to his hair, but instead of pushing away they are definitely holding him in place. He's rubbing his face against you, turning his head from side to side, moaning endlessly like he can't get enough. 

Your brain finally catches up and you abruptly cut off the whine that's been pouring out of you. You just have to open your mouth, "Are you fucking serious right now? You like that?!?" 

With one last hard rub of his face against you, (FUCK YES, rub that bearded chin on my clit) he pulls back to look up at you. And if you thought he looked aroused before, he is positively wrecked now. His eyes are slitted in pleasure, brows drawn together with need, jaw slack, mouth open and panting. He doesn't keep you waiting for an answer. "Well, not your normal sexy bakery scent. You smell like you but just, more. Damn delicious." He growls. 

Okay, two things: 

You file 'sexy bakery' away for later discussion because wtf, lol.

And. And he really means that. He's dead serious. He has a death grip on your inner thighs, his hands are like steel. As if he's afraid you'll try to push him away, to stop him. Fat fucking chance, babe.

You cup his face with both hands and smile softly down at him. In wondrous amazement you whisper, "Holy fuck, I love you." The transformation of his expression from blissfully needy to Horny Murder Panther is damn near instantaneous.

"Good. Now gimme this pussy!" He orders. 

You laugh, but your hands fly to the drawstring of your pants in obedience. He erupts into a flurry of actions, pulling his jacket off to dump it on the floor behind him. He only gets as far as unbuttoning the cuffs on his sleeves before giving up and just ripping the shirt up and over his head to join his jacket. The sight of solidly muscled chest rippling like that short circuits your brain. What were you even doing? Was it drooling? Its definitely drooling now. 

His hands come back to your thighs, fingers digging deep into your soft flesh. He yanks you forward until your ass is hanging off the couch. You snap back to awareness and start frantically pushing your pants down. He grabs the waistbands of both your pants and underwear and hauls the whole mess down your legs at what has to be record speed. Before you have a chance to do anything else he's burying his face into your pussy like a starving man. 

He uses his flattened tongue to give you a long, slow, torturous lick from the bottom of your entrance to your clit. Your back arches to mirror his movements while you sob in pleasure. Then he does it again. And again. Over and over in an endless loop of wet decadent friction. He grips the backs of your thighs, the heels of his palms brushing your ass while his thumbs are buried in the creases where leg becomes hip. He pushes your legs back more yet, widening you further and practically folding you in half. You can't even bring yourself to be worried about how your squishy stomach compresses into rolls. Diego certainly doesn't care.

He changes tactics to latch onto your clit. Sealing his lips around you, he alternates between hard suction and softly sliding his tongue up under your hood to drive you mad. The direct pressure is almost too much, you whimper and squirm after only a few rounds of this. He leaves off and you think you're catching a break to breathe. You are so, so wrong.

He goes lower to literally lick you from bottom to top.

With a shriek, both of your hands fly to his head. "Holy fuck. Oh my god, oh my god. Baby. You. Oh god. Baby, fuck yessss… " What started out as some kind of blasphemous incantation ends in you hissing with unadulterated sin. He moans against you in response but doesn't stop. The incessant long strokes of his tongue have you closer to orgasm faster than you can ever remember it happening before. Your legs are shaking and tears are pouring from your eyes. You reach your right hand down to touch his left where he's holding your thigh, needing something, anything, to ground you. And he laces his fingers with yours. 

Your heart clenches. "Diego…" you whisper for him, sobbing from the intensity of everything. With a choppy groan he refocuses on your clit, ferociously determined. Your entire abdomen is tense, you're wound too tight. He presses his flattened tongue against you even harder, shortening his strokes just to cover your clit. It feels infinite, you can't tell where one lick ends and the next begins. Just constant, unyielding pleasure. It's too much, holy fuck it's too much, never stop.

Everything clicks into clear focus. Your pussy compresses tight on nothing, and then you snap. Your whole body seizes up with your orgasm. For one long, terrifying moment your heart pauses and your breathing stops. It all comes crashing back together and you suck in a lungful of air with a choking sob. Waves of agonizing pleasure wash over you, your body shuddering with each one. He's still pressing that incredible, miraculous, entirely evil tongue to your clit. Holding fast and drawing your climax out as long as possible. Growling against you with heavenly vibration. As the rounds of your clenching cunt ease in both intensity and frequency he slowly slides up and off of you. 

He rests his sweaty forehead against the inside of your right thigh, panting so hard his breath is hitting you with almost physical force. You pry your right hand off your own thigh, keep your fingers laced together, and bring his hand up to your chest where you lay it over your heart.

You keep your eyes closed while you brokenly cry. "I love you, Diego."

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

His right hand snakes up your body to slide around the back of your neck. He's pulling you forward, sitting you upright. His left hand slides back down to your hip where he grips you tightly and pulls toward him simultaneously. Your eyes pop open when you feel like you're going to fall off the couch. 

Diego scoops you back into his lap with your momentum and proceeds to just stand up. You yelp in surprise as your arms shoot around his neck to hold on. It takes a second to realize that you're essentially just sitting on his left forearm, his right hand is still gripping the back of your neck tightly. You moan in pure arousal, hiding your face against his shoulder. The fact that he just tosses you around like a ragdoll is so mind-meltingly hot. The sheer bulk and breadth of him never ceases to render you speechless. There's just so much Diego that he blocks out everything else. Its overwhelming in every sense. Let me just drown in Diego.

By the time you've contemplated your fate, bodice-ripper romance novel style, he's made it halfway down the hall to your bedroom. You tuck your legs tighter around his torso, the hallways in an old farmhouse aren't exactly spacious, and he purrs against you in response. Your body's physical reaction is so strong that you choke. Is there anything about this man that does not turn me on? 

He makes it to your bedroom without incident (a miracle, really, considering it looks like a bomb went off in your apartment) and deposits you on the bed. He's been so incredibly gentle with those huge hands that it takes you by surprise when he firmly grasps your jaw and growls at you. "Look at me."

You swallow, hard, and open your eyes. He's staring at you so intensely, his gaze unreadable. He uses his grip on you to slowly push you down onto your back. You don't even try to fight it. You're not sure what he's doing but it's very clear that he needs to do it. He squeezes your jaw with purpose and you blink up at him in confusion. He cocks his head and regards you like… well, like prey.

It's been a long time since he has made you nervous like this.

He finally releases your jaw to slide his hand down your throat and rest it over your pounding heart. He pulls the neckline of your camisole away from your body then allows it to softly snap back against you. "Take this off." His growl is quiet, but it still sets off alarm bells in some primal part of your brain. He sees the hesitation in your eyes and barks out, "Now!"

You whip the top off over your head before he loses any more patience and rips it off of you in shreds. His hand is back on your jaw, ensuring you look nowhere but at him. His breathing is harsh, you can see a muscle tic in his left cheek, and his eyes are wild. Feral, you shiver with the thought. "Stay, Princess." He orders softly and releases his hold on you. 

You don't dare move.

He straightens back upright and his hands go to his pants. You have a brief moment of hysteria, Have fun getting those impeccably tailored pants over that massive cock, but you manage to stifle the thought and keep your expression steady. He's toeing off his shoes while undoing the button, then pulling the zipper down. You watch his hands in fascination. It's an obsession you have no plans of shaking. He manages to get the pants over his hips with no problems, a complete lack of underwear always expedites the process. 

He moves to climb on the bed and you spread your legs for him like a reflex. This man has had a profound effect on you. Before you get too far he throws his left leg over both of yours, straddling you and effectively immobilizing you. You reach up for him as he plants his elbows just outside of yours and cups your face in those hands you so adore. Your own hands land on his shoulders and he allows it, for now. You try to urge him down on top of you, but he's not budging. You want to touch more, feel all of him, but he's just looming over you to block out the rest of existence.

His hands are like iron, caging you in to bend you to his will. His eyes search your face, you have no idea what he's seeking. Finally, he rumbles down at you, "Do you know what you did?"

The question is soft, dangerously so. You can feel yourself starting to shake. You have a sneaking suspicion that there is no right answer so you just shake your head in a 'no'. He cocks his head again and you find yourself blinking rapidly. His eye twitches when he finally answers, "You scared me."

You're shocked. Never in a million years would you have expected this man to straightforwardly admit fear. He leans in close to your face and your breathing hitches. "I'm sorry." You whimper. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to. I never meant to scare you." You don't even recognize your own voice. Its small, plaintive and timid. 

He moves back upright and kneels over you. His expression is only becoming more fierce. You start to draw your legs out from under him, curling up some, instinctively seeking to protect yourself. "You didn't mean to?" He rumbles incredulously. His eyebrows are rising and you can feel actual anger radiating off of him. 

He snaps, "You didn't mean for me to drop everything I was doing?" And faster than you can comprehend his right hand comes down on the outside of your left thigh. The sharp sound of the slap echoes in your tiny room. Your jaw drops in shock, then the pain blooms out from the point of impact. You look from his face to his hand, then back again. "Diego, I--"

"You didn't mean for me to cancel two drop receivements and a business meeting?" His hand comes down again, but you're already moving. You try to turn away, rolling your legs to the right. His hand lands on your left hip, fingers long enough to catch the outside of your cheek. You shriek and start trying to escape in earnest. His left hand shoots down and grabs both of your wrists, stopping you from pulling yourself away from him. "Diego! Wait, I don't--" 

He clamps his legs around yours and uses your momentum against you to turn your hips entirely to the side. He has both your wrists pinned down in a bruising grip. Your shoulders are flat on the bed, there's nowhere you can hide your face. "No! I'm sorry, I didn't mean to cause--"

"You didn't mean for me to take an immediate flight across the entire country?" This time the slap lands fully on your ass. And it hurts. You yelp as tears spill over your cheeks. "No! I'm sorry! Please--"

"You didn't mean for me to drive two hours from the airport after I've been awake for almost two days?" His volume has risen, he's practically yelling. His hand comes down again, lower this time to catch the bottom of your cheek, where it becomes the tender skin of thigh. "I'm sorry! I'm sorry! No I didn't--"

"You didn't mean for me to find you here like this? Having some sort of tantrum like a child?" He roars. This time there are three slaps, one right after the next, all landing in the same spot. Your shrieks are coming out in stutters, interspersed with gasping inhalations. "No! No no no! I'm sorry! I'm sorry Diego! I'm sorry!" You're sobbing with it, choking on humiliation. You can't hide your face, there's nowhere to run from this.

"Or you didn't mean for me to find out that you cared? Huh? That you love me!" His voice cracks over the sound of his near constant strikes. You're wailing in tears, "Yes! Yes! Okay! Damnit Diego, I'm sorry! I was afraid! I'm sorry! I'm so sorry…" you dissolve into incoherence. 

He releases your wrists and grabs your face again. You try to push him away, but you're too weak. "Look at me! Look at me, Bicki!" he hisses. You shake your head no. "Mirame, Princesa! Please, please." His voice is hoarse, dripping with fear and desperation. You open your eyes to find him right in your face. His expression is twisted up with pain and desire. "You cannot do this! I have to know you are safe! Protected! Let me keep you!" 

It suddenly dawns on you what he means with 'keep'. He wants to protect you yes, but what he really means is 'have' you. Present in his life. At his side. Your heart in his keeping.

His hands are stroking you, over your hair, down your arms. He grips your hands tightly, bringing them up to his face. You hold onto him, your only constant in this. "Diego.." you hiccup. Then, with no warning and no conscious command on your part, you slap him. Hard. 

You're both frozen in place, equally shocked. Staring at each other in escalating tension. You sniffle and it launches him into action.

He grabs your left hip in a bruising grip, pushing your leg to your chest, pulling it out from under him so he can get between your thighs. You frantically claw at his shoulders, his biceps, anything to pull him closer. You need him. Right now. You need him so deep inside you that you don't know where he ends and you begin. 

He slides home in one powerful thrust. Your whole back arches and you grimace in excruciating ecstasy. The stretch of it burns, it hurts so perfectly. His left hand is wrapped around your left thigh, holding you open for him, his right on your left shoulder, keeping you steady and still for him to bottom out. He stays there, grinding his cock into you as far as possible. Still trying to push the last few inches into you. Your vision blacks out and you scream yourself hoarse with your orgasm. 

When you come back to awareness he's kissing all over your face, murmuring your name. You turn your face to his, seeking. He fits his lips over yours and you both moan. You pet over his shoulders, reach back up to tug on his hair.

He starts a steady rhythm of long, slow strokes. You can feel every damn inch of him and it's so incredibly, deliriously good. You open your mouth to him and he deepens the kiss, tongue moving to match his hips. He tastes like you. All you can smell is his cologne, underscored by pure lustful male. This is indescribable. Each and every one of your senses is nothing but Diego.

His right hand glides down to cup your breast, hefting the weight of it and rubbing his thumb over your nipple. You break off the kiss to throw your head back, whining in pleasure. His lips trail down your neck, beard leaving fire in his wake. He laves his tongue over your nipple before latching on and suckling. You can feel another orgasm approaching, and so can he.

"That's it, Princess. Come for me. Show Diego what a good girl you are." His hoarse voice and soft commands push you right over the edge. You're rippling down around him, sobbing and nodding. Yes, yes, your perfect little princess. 

He picks up the pace, the force of his thrusts rocking the bed into the wall with a steady banging. You can't seem to care. You're whining and pleading, "I'm sorry, please please. Yes baby, yesyesyesyesss…" 

"I know," he coos softly to you. "You are so very sorry, aren't you?" You're nodding desperately in agreement. "Will you do this again? Huh?" You shake your head 'no' so fast it makes you dizzy. His words would be condescending if his tone wasn't so very emotional. It's okay. You need him to vocalize what you can't. And he knows it. He knows you.

He pushes your left leg out to the side, sliding his right hand up your thigh to grip your hip. His left hand travels down your back between you and the bed. Through nothing but raw power he lifts your wide hips and rotates you so you're flat on your back and fully open to him. You keen at the show of strength, just like he knew you would. 

"Are you going to be a good little Princess for Diego?"  When you don't answer he pulls back and stops. Your eyes snap open and you whimper in desperation. He's watching you, waiting. His brows are drawn together in concentration and his jaw is set tight. Those beautiful brown eyes are nearly black with hunger. He digs his nails into your hips while he waits. 

You struggle with gathering enough oxygen before you can answer, "Yes, yes I'll be good. Be good for you, I promise!" You aren't sure who is in control of your mouth right now. You don't feel like you have any control. He rewards you by filling you up completely. Your eyes roll back into your head, taking all of him at once always steals your breath. 

He stays fully sheathed and leans over you. Bringing your knees up to your shoulders and his face to yours, he takes your lips under his. You sob into his mouth, you can feel the head of him pressing against your cervix. He nips your bottom lip then swipes his tongue over the sting. "Does my princess want this? Does she want Diego to keep her?" 

You cling to his shoulders. Closing your eyes in chagrin, you nod. He keeps his face pressed to yours. "Tell Diego. I need to hear it!" He hisses. 

"Yes. Want you to keep me. Please." you whisper, broken and needing.  He rears back and starts a frantic pace. His thrusts are short and brutal, stabbing directly into the core of you. You can do nothing but howl in pleasure and take it. Your spasms around him are nearly constant, one after another you come in rolling waves. You're begging, or cursing, hell, you have no idea what's coming out of your mouth at this point. 

He brings the weight of his torso down on you, crushing you into the bed. "Come! Come now! Come, my princess, come for your Diego!" His words are a command, but his voice is begging.

You're bawling again. "Yes, yesyesyes. Diego, Diego pleeeeease!" You have no idea if he can understand you. You're pretty sure only dogs could hear that. "Please Please please please please, baby. Please. Need you. I love you!"

He buries his face in your hair and drops your legs in favor of engulfing your shoulders in his embrace. You wrap your legs around his hips, you have to keep him as close to you as possible. Your arms snake around his torso, squeezing tight to bring your chest up against his. He's grunting, his thrusts becoming erratic. 

Then you hear him. His voice is quiet, words pleading, "Come. Let me keep you. Please, please. C-come. Princess, need you. Come home with me!" You nod tightly, sobbing silently as he freezes up in orgasm. He chokes out a groan, then collapses on top of you. You welcome the weight of him. He nuzzles into your neck, tickling you with beard and a big sigh. "Love you."

It hurts. It hurts deep in your chest. You hope it never stops hurting like this.

He retreats out of you, faster than you would like. You're pretty sure he forgets just how large he is. You feel wrung out, stretched out of shape and hollow. He pulls his right arm out from under you and rolls off to flop face-up on your right side. His left arm is still trapped under your back. Do you care that it's lumpy and uncomfortable? Nah. You unearth your right leg from under both of his and he makes a whiny huff about it.

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

He's struggling to catch his breath. He didn't mean for things to get so… out of hand. So to speak. She always does this to him. She withholds her more serious emotions and it drives him crazy. She never makes a fuss about his responses, never freaks out when he shows her affection, never gasps in shock when he gives her his ultimate deference. She acts like she has no deep feelings for him and it makes him want to beat it out of her. Apparently that is the correct method.

Her body is relaxed and casual on his arm. But he's greedy and doesn't want her to seal off all those delectably vulnerable emotions she just displayed. Soft, pliant, obedient, needy Princess is his new favorite.

He rolls her into his side with his trapped left hand while rumbling softly, "Come here." And she does. She snuggles into his side willingly and it makes him feel so soft that it's disgusting. Or maybe that's the guilt. She didn't agree to the spanking before hand. She didn't even know it was coming. Honestly, neither had he. His next thought feels like a stab to the lungs. What if she is afraid of me now? Did I hurt her? This is disgustingly emotional.

"Princess?" She sighs a soft 'Mmmm' in answer. She burrows into the coarse hair and soft skin of his underarm. Is, is she sniffing me?? He decides that ignoring her utterly adorable weirdness and addressing the ceiling is his safest option at this point. "Are… are you hurt? Did I hurt you?" 

Her left hand freezes on his chest. Her face slowly creeps into his field of vision from the bottom left corner. Her expression is… mystifying. He keeps his head still but moves his eyes to his peripheral vision to squint at her in concerned concentration.

Slowly, ever so slowly, her lips curve up in an absolutely evil grin. That damn left eyebrow arches imperiously and he is completely certain that she will be the death of him.

"Did you hear me use the safeword?"

[snowtimeisbesttime]

Thoughts and questions (remix) on Friendsim Volume 1, though this one wasn’t included in the original series. All the new comments (by which i mean the ones that weren’t originally part of these posts) will be in italics.

Ardata:

-As I posted on a standalone post: Her sign is Scormini the Martyr. Her first Troll Call card stated she was fresh to death sentence. Perhaps she'll decide she's had enough of streaming murdergore mid-stream?? // that particular bulletpoint didn't make the cut to the final, post-Friendsim version of everyone's Troll Calls so... rip this entire train of theorizing? Kinda hope not because it could have been very interesting.

-Considering hers and Marvus' signs were revealed a while ago with... not much fanfare that I can remember, what was the reason for hiding them in the first place? Marvus could have been easily read as Timebound even without the leaks, but iirc Ardata got mostly Mindbound, Heartbound and Lightbound readings.

-MC is canonically a human, and Ardata can control them with no problem, while Vriska could only put them to sleep (and I don't think we ever saw Aranea controlling any human either, though they didn't have many ghosts). Is this difference in power because Ardata isn't a fucking universe away from MC, or because she's older than Vriska (unlikely considering Aranea)? She may also have everyone in her basement controlled, as their cages were unlocked.

-Back to her streams: she's all but forced to keep doing them or she'll be killed, while her fellow ceruleans do completely different and less violent things; Remele literally hadn't killed anyone before her route, and while we don't know that much about Elwurd or Mallek, they don't really seem like the murdery type.

Did Ardata try it out as a hobby when she was a kid, and then attracted a highblooded enough audience to be forced to become a full-time streamer? Which probably fucked her up a LOT, especially considering she didn't have any friends until MC arrived... // her new Troll Call bulletpoints state that she makes her own capes and is a small business owner- perhaps she's trying to branch out?

-Maybe that's what “probably Vriska” meant, back in her Troll Call. It should be said that Ardata seems to have a better relationship with her lusus than Vriska, at least; though that bar's so low it's chilling out at Earth's core. It's all but explicitly stated than what's pressuring Ardata to keep up the murders is her audience, rather than her lusus like in Vriska's case. // that bulletpoint Also Got Retconned.

-(Brief aside: I remembered that one post about people reading Vrisky Business but spectacularly missing the Point* of it, and... let's hope we don't see a repeat of this kind of situation in Hiveswap, okay?)

* the point is “spidermom really fucking sucks” // though again, we don't see anything in Ardata's route that might imply that her own lusus also sucks, and Vriska's PQ route did drive this point in deeper.

Diemen:

-Diemen mentioned he thought he could get away with missing his Ordeals and staying on Alternia forever, so he's probably 7 sweeps / 15 years old at the very least (otherwise he'd have talked about the Rites of Maturation). Not that he'd stay too long on planet... // then again he does look Baby, though the Hiveswap art style kinda sucks at portraying specific character ages that aren't Babby or Chahut...

-Like Ardata, he hasn't had any real friends before the MC came along... at least, none that cared for him more than his hotdogs.

-Considering we don't know how long has he been homeless and that he used to enjoy hotdogs with his (dead) lusus, it's easy to see why he's so fixated on them. He does seem to start leaving that obsession behind in his good route, and by Mallek and Lanque's volumes he's doing his own thing, whatever that is.

-we interrupt this sadfest to bring you to mind diemen's priceless cameo in lanque's route. // Friendsim kinda did Diemen a solid re: character depth, as his early Troll Call bulletpoints were literally all about bug hotdogs. Then again, we know from the wiki that those early bulletpoints didn't have a big influence on Friendsim proper so *shrugs*

-Regarding Diemen's lusus again, we know from Tegiri's route than not having a lusus is grounds for culling... until a certain age. Either Diemen's above that age, or he's very lucky he's been so lonely until now.

-Diemen might not have telekinesis, as when his hotdog falls in his good route he doesn't even reach for it. Now that I think about it... do any of the Troll Call burgundies have powers?? We know Xefros has both telekinesis (even if it's very weak) and ghost communing (though we don't see him use it in Act 1, it's strongly implied he has it- he doesn't say he could have trouble playing as pusher because he might not be able to talk to dead players or anything). Are telekinetic burgundies exceedingly rare, while necropaths are more common? ...maybe they're not common enough to be common knowledge, even among the caste that would get those powers (see: fozzer's route)???

-this is from way back when diemen was the only one who explicitly died in their route, but... we know xefros has ghost communing, but we haven't seen him do ghost stuff yet- and diemen's hair just so happens to hide his eyes... we've had a bunch more casualties since volume 1 and the MC does see diemen's eyes through his bangs but anyways. One Fear (of many)

-in this volume, the fearsome butt starts its killcount and claims the lives of both hotdog and hotdog enthusiast.

-Looking back, early friendsims were a lot calmer than later ones...

[ultrakatua]

I’m done. The final map was easy, and funnily enough it allowed some scrub units like Balthus and Edelgard to shine.

And man, I’m feeling sad again :( It feels super weird to think that it’s over for good and we won’t get more content for the game... I know it’s something stupid to say since I’ve already poured over 200 hours into this game, and I still have many things to do like playing Silver Snow, unlocking shittons of supports or testing Maddening... But still... 

I hope we’ll get more of Fódlan in the future, whether through a sequel, a prequel, or even just a basic side story. For any other series I know it wouldn’t be likely, but almost every Fire Emblem game in existence had that sort of stuff, so who knows...

Let me be greedy... I love the world and the characters too much...

Anyway, I loved that DLC a lot! Different from what I expected but not in a bad way. Wish it were longer but well, I still spent 11 hours minus the retries (yeah I play slowly)

imo it throws some well deserved (?) shades to the Church and Rhea. I was never on the “Edelgard’s war feels useless because you don’t see the Church doing bad stuff” team, and even less into the “Claude’s history of oppression doesn’t feel legit because you don’t see it” one (the shit I read, man...), but I think the DLC does a good job to show how fucked up the Church actually is. And Rhea... may have done some things wrong in the end haha 

I’ve already said it, but I’ve always been more on “team Rhea”, in that I think she did the best she could even if it led everything to shit. The most reprehensible stuff we saw so far was her experimentation on Byleth, which was fucked up, mind you, but this DLC opens another can of worms altogether. I’m really, really curious about the new library content. Because it’s clear that her own attempt to resurrect Sothis led to some very fucked-up stuff. Not to mention EVERYTHING steams from her keeping information from others out of fear and distrust...

And of course the Yuri situation, and really, that of all inhabitants of the Abyss, show you that the three lords may have well had end up there as well had the circumstances be different. Edelgard because of her torture. Dimitri after he escaped jail (is there even any canon stuff that can dismiss that idea?). Claude simply by existing as an Almyran in Fódlan. The veiled woman near the altar was spine-chilling. I wonder if she’s supposed to be a reference to another character from a past game? Hearing her mention her mother felt very specific... But I can’t remember any female character leaving the adventurer life.

I never felt like the lords had any sort of alchemy and I think the DLC kinds of bring that point home. It’s not just that they have little interactions... It’s that when they speak to each other they are either distant, or hostile. Edelgard was very shutdown (understandably so, but it’s a missed opportunity imo) and Dimitri acts like he’s Claude’s mom or something every time he opens his mouth .They are highly incompatible in every way haha Also maybe it’s because I’m biased, but I feel like they gave way more screentime to Claude than to the other two? In any cases, the Claude content was good and I’m well fed. It’s funny that Yuri is legit what people expected Claude to be lol

I also liked the small touches, like learning that Gloucester had people spy on Claude, or that Metoday was actually working for the Agartans. The Sitri lore as well, of course, was well needed. 

Unit wise:

-MVPs were Claude, Constance, Linhardt. Lin has healer privileges. Claude and Constance have the benefit of flying and snipping stuff. 

-Ashe, Byleth, Dimitri, Hapi. Ashe was good for much needed chip damage + Retribution. Dimitri was basically the only one able to face tank those fricking Assassins. Byleth was good all around. Hapi had high mobility + tactical nuking.

-Yuri, Hilda. Hilda is in that weird place where she’s too frail, and lacks accuracy. The access to Pegasus knight was useful. Yuri is... a real dodge tank. I’ll give him that. Other than that, 0x2 lol I used him mainly as a heal bot, and his Relic is damn good. The Trickster combat art is also super fun to use.

-Balthus, Edelgard. Balthus kept missing kills, his only saving grace was being able to one-round the illusions in the last map. Edelgard’s only contributions were tanking the cavs in the 5th map and nuking the final boss.

My plans for now on... Well, when I play Silver Snow, I’ll do it with all the Ashen Wolves + the Church staff. And I really, really want to do Golden Deer maddening, with Balthus, Cyril and probably Shamir. I’ll probably go back to Breath of the Wild for now, though.