#so i Sorta. Kinda. understand that thought process.

[tskva-happens]

seems like so far the #1 enemy of the bg3 modding community has been... *checks note* age. just like... any signs of age whatsoever.

[mysteryshoptls]

SSR Ace Trappola - Suitor Suit Vignette

"I love..."

[Cafeteria – Wedding Ceremony]

Crowley: Dearie me… Today was indeed an ordeal.

Crowley: It seems the ghosts have all disappeared, leaving our cafeteria still decorated for a wedding ceremony.

Crowley: How dare they take no responsibility for what happened.

Crowley: We won't be able to open for meals tomorrow if it stays like this.

Crowley: So, young freshmen. I'll leave it to you to clear up this "wedding venue" before heading back to your dormitories, then.

Jack/Deuce/Sebek: Ehhhh～～～!?

Ace: When you say freshmen… That doesn't include me 'n Epel in all our tuxedo glory, right?

Crowley: No, I mean all freshmen. I pride myself as an educator who treats all my students the same!

Epel: Oh, come on…

Ace: Give us a break, already. I did so much today, I'm wiped out.

Crowley: I will admit that you played an integral part in today's procession… But that is that, and this is this.

Crowley: I do hope you lively youngsters will be quick about it!

Grim: Hey, Yuu. Stop spacing out! We're makin' a run for it before the Headmage notices us.

Crowley: Ah, of course, that includes [Yuu]-kun and Grim-kun, too.

Grim: Myaaaah!!

Epel: Urgh. I've thrown away so many of these ribbon off the walls, and there's still more to go.

Grim: Whenever I try pullin' the lace off, it keeps getting' caught on my claws!

Ace: This chair's real sturdy. Where'd they even find… Wait, it's a tombstone! [shudders]

1. We're not anywhere close to getting finished. 2. I wanna go home already.

Ortho: Hey everyone, I'm here to help too, so let's put our all into it!

Ace: …Arrrgh, come on! I did so much to help out, too!

Ace: How much trouble do ghosts gotta put us through before they're satisfied, anyway?

Ace: 500 years? Crazy they've been obsessing over something like "love" for that long.

Ace: I'm pretty pissed at those ghost soldiers, sure… But I don't understand what that princess was thinking at all.

Ace: I'd've had a lot less trouble if she'd just given up on the whole marriage thing and lived a happy afterlife instead…

Epel: …

Epel: Ace-kun… Has there ever been someone you liked?

Ace: Huh!? Why're you asking me that all of a sudden?

Epel: Just thought it was strange… You saying she was "obsessive" or that you "don't understand" her.

Epel: 'Cause you kinda give off this vibe that you'd know a bit more about relationships.

Ace: What, you saying I'm a playboy or something?

Epel: N-No, I'm not saying that.

Grim: You shouldn't tease Ace like that, askin' about his love life. No way he'd have any idea about that sorta stuff.

Grim: There's no way a jerk like him would ever have any luck.

Ace: Hey, can you try not being jealous of me for one sec?

Ace: Back in middle school, even I had a girlfriend I'd take to amusement parks or movie theaters or whatever.

Grim: Wh-What!? You're soundin' pretty cocky for someone like you, Ace!

Ortho: Amusement parks and movies, hm. My manual says that regardless of the generation, those are pretty popular date spots!

Epel: Nice… all this talkin' about datin' and such's makin' me feel like we're really at our peak high school guy talk stage!

Epel: So? What happened?

Ace: Well…

Ace: You know girls, they're so scared of roller coasters, so all we'd ride was the merry-go-round or the ferris wheel.

Ace: She'd say everything was "Cute!" and take a ton of Magicam pictures, but I didn't really see what was so exciting about those rides.

Ace: Plus, whenever we went to see a movie, she never wanted to watch action or horror movies, just romance and cute animal movies…

Ace: It was just borin' with her, so we just slowly stopped messaging each other.

Epel: Oh, I see. Doesn't that seem a little…disappointing?

Ace: Yeah, but the worst was still to come. After I started slowly distancing myself, whaddya think happened next?

Ace: …One day, this group of girls I'd never met in my life started shouting at me…

Ace: "Why didn't you ever call her?" "How could you!" "She's been crying non-stop!" "You brute!"

Ace: …And they went on and on scolding me! What's with that, some kind of solidarity between girls or whatever?

Ace: That's when I realized. Love is just a pain to deal with!

Ace: I have way more fun just hangin' with the guys.

Grim: Man, you're just a kid, after all.

Ace: Don't wanna hear that from you, of all people.

Ace: …But, anyway!

Ace: I think it's not me we gotta worry about, but those guys over there.

Jack/Deuce/Sebek: Hm?

[Cafeteria – Wedding Ceremony]

Ace: I think it's not me we gotta worry about, but those guys over there.

Jack/Deuce/Sebek: Hm?

Deuce: Hey, Ace. What have you guys been chatting away about over there?

Jack: Urgh… It's already past midnight and I don't think I can stay awake any longer. Let's hurry and finish cleaning up already.

Ace: You guys are tryin' to act all cool, but who was it that was just rolling around on the floor all day today?

Ace: Look at 'em, Grim. You should be saying that these dunderheads who couldn't even succeed in their mission are more like kids.

Grim: Hm, I guess…?

Grim: Deuce did look pretty lame when he froze up tryin' to talk to that bride.

Ace: Riiiight～?! I was laughing so hard I couldn't breathe at all.

Deuce: Wha… I couldn't help it! I'm not used to talking to girls.

Deuce: I clam up when I start thinking that I might say something stupid and callous…

Ace: Your middle school was co-ed, wasn't it? Weren't you popular enough?

Ace: I always thought that guys with that "tough guy" image always had girls falling at their feet.

Deuce: Falling at my feet?

Deuce: …Nah, no one ever talked to me.

Deuce: Every girl other than my mom ―or rather, every guy, too― would run away the moment we made eye contact.

Ace: Ah, I see… So you were just so scary no one wanted to come close…

Ace: Jack got rejected pretty quick too, so I guess guys who just look scary from the get-go just can't get girls, huh.

Jack: That's all useless talk. I don't really care if people like me.

Ace: Oho? What, you a sore loser or something?

Jack: No. Wolf beastmen like myself are destined to find the one person to care about forever.

Jack: Both my parents and my grandparents are the same… From the moment they wake up to the moment they go to sleep, they're always together. Even when taking a walk or having meals.

Jack: When the time comes that I fall in love, I plan on being with them for the rest of my life.

Jack: That's why I don't care if a bunch of folks like me.

Ace: Th... That's waaaaay too deep!

Ace: Dude, you're still a student, and you're talking about "the rest of my life"… You're taking this "love" stuff way too seriously!

Deuce: Also, can you really think about marriage before you've even got a career plan set up?

Grim: What a pain! I definitely don't wanna ever date Jack.

Jack: Well, I'm not asking you to!

Ace: Then, I guess it's more guys like Epel that'd get the most attention.

Ace: Instead of being scary looking, he's a pretty boy with potential!

Epel: Eh, m-me!?

Ace: Well, you were askin' about others, so you should cough up a story too. Was there anyone back home you had a crush on?

Epel: Uh…

Ace: Come on～ Don't keep it a secret～ We're tux buddies, ain't we?

Deuce: That's a rude way to drag him in. Why're you so hung up on hearing about other people's love lives?

Jack: I bet he's hoping that other people'll do his share of the clean up while he keeps the conversation going.

Deuce: Makes sense. That's a pretty Ace-like move.

Ace: You guys are totally interested in hearing too!

Jack/Deuce: Well…

Ace: You ever get confessed to? Was there someone you liked? Or even dated someone!?

Epel: …

Jack/Deuce/Ace: …!

Epel: …Hate to break it to you guys when you're all looking at me so intently…

Epel: But there's not many people in my hometown. And even then, most of the people there either way older or way younger than me.

Epel: I never really got to spend time with people my age once I came here to Night Raven College…

Epel: All I did was help out on my family's farm… So I don't really have any exciting story…

Ace: Dang, so you don't have any fun stories too, huh.

Epel: Sorry I couldn't live up to your expectations.

Ortho: If I were to compare against prior data gathered of boys of similar age, it seems like everyone here is drastically lacking when it comes to living your youthful years.

Ace: Shut it!

Sebek: Hey! Humans! You've all stalled in your work.

Sebek: IF YOU'VE GOT TIME TO CHIT-CHAT, STACK THE CHAIRS!

Ace: Here he comes, the guy who's got the worst chance among us.

Jack: Yeah, I was pretty disappointed too.

Sebek: Hmph. All of you are just going back and forth about falling in love and whatnot.

Sebek: We are students. If you have time for that sort of ridiculous leisure, you should focus on your studies instead!

Grim: Don't be talkin' down to us! You were one of the first to get rejected!

Sebek: I was not rejected! I rejected her!

Sebek: I am busy training every single day to be a capable guard for Malleus-sama. I have no time for frivolities like "love."

Ace: You say that, but what if someone that was really your type shows up one day?

Ace: You plannin' on droning on and on about Malleus-senpai to that person, too?

Sebek: I fully know what to do. Lilia-sama has explained to me what I should do if I were to meet my soulmate.

Sebek: …FIRST I WOULD CRAFT FOR THEM A WELL-THOUGHT OUT CORRESPONDENCE!

Ace: Correspondence!!?? You mean, write a letter!?

Ace: That's like something our grandparents would do!

Deuce: It'd be better if you sent a message on Magicam or email instead.

Sebek: Why is that? Lilia-sama would say that "Fountain pens and stationary are a lover's weapon."

Sebek: One should lay out their thoughts in the missive, and every third letter, also include a picture with a smile. This should continue until the 25th full moon of the courtship.

Sebek: Once enough correspondence has been exchanged…

Sebek: We are to sit on a bench together in Briar Valley Central Park, leaving enough space for one between us!

Epel: Yeah, you're definitely being led on…

Sebek: WHAT!!?? HOW DARE A LOWLY HUMAN DOUBT LILIA-SAMA LIKE SO!!??

Ace: Yeah, yeah. Pipe down already. It'll go on and on if we don't nip it in the bud here, so let's call it quits here!

Ace: [sigh]… But maybe Sebek has a bit of a point.

Jack: What, you gonna write some letters too?

Ace: Oh yeah, yeah, I'd totally whip out the white stationary and write in cursive "I love"… Not!!

Ace: Even for this, me and Epel needed Riddle-ryōchō and Rook-senpai's help, right?

Epel: …Yeah. If we didn't have those two, I don't think we would've been able to get as far as we did.

Ace: You know, it came to me when I saw my Housewarden taking on all those ghosts.

Ace: "My Housewarden's pretty cool."

Ace: I wanna get better at using magic, man.

Ace: I can't even compare against my Housewarden or other upperclassmen right now, but...

Ace: But someday, I'll totally show off what all I can do, and be all, "Check me out now!"

Ace: I totally get a jolt through my body imagining the shock on their faces when I finally show my awesome skills, see?

Ace: And in order to get to that point… I guess I need to focus up a bit more in my studies before thinking anything about love.

Epel: …Yeah. You're right. I think so too!

Sebek: Hmph. See, you do get it.

Deuce: Yeah, we need to hunker down with our studies.

Jack: When Deuce with all his failing marks says that, it just feels even more important to think about.

Sebek/Epel/Ace: Yeah.

Deuce: Why are you all in step when it comes to things like this!?

Ace: …Putting that all aside, we just really got carried away in conversation, huh. We ain't nowhere near done putting the cafeteria back in order!

Ace: Not only did we have to deal with all those ghosts, but now we gotta be held after to do more work…

Ace: We're so lame. Nothing good came out of today at all.

Ortho: That's not true!

Ace: Eh?

[Cafeteria – Wedding Ceremony]

Ortho: I was watching the video with the Headmage when you barged into the wedding ceremony, and…

Ortho: It felt like I was watching a movie, seeing you burst in with your flower bouquet, shouting out "Wait a sec!"

Ortho: You were so passionately coming to my brother's rescue…

Ortho: It was suuuuuuuuuuuper cool!

Ace: Huh? I wasn't passionate anything.

Ace: That was because I had just finished running away from the ghosts… or more like I got caught up in the flow.

Ortho: Nah. I saw just how serious you looked when you rushed into the room.

Ortho: You totally meant every word you said to the bride and her retainers, didn't you?

Grim: There ain't no way Ace'd say anything that genuine.

Grim: All he did was just ramble on about stuff without putting in any thought, I bet.

Ace: Y-Yeah, yeah! You got it right on the money, Grim.

Ortho: Judging from what I gleaned from my infrared sensor, with his elevated body temperature, voice pitch and pupil dilation…

Ortho: All the preceding data brings us to the conclusion that Ace was being genuine.

Ortho: …There's no need for you to hide it. You're really shy, huh!

Deuce: Which means…

Sebek: All he said to the ghost bride about the "perfect marriage partner"…

Jack: Was Ace's actual genuine thoughts!?

Ortho: Yup. There's no doubt.

Ortho: It's wonderful that you have a real good image of your ideal partner.

Ace: Hah!? No way! Absolutely no way!

Ace: I just said whatever I thought the ghosts would swallow!

Jack/Deuce/Sebek: Ohooo～～??

Grim: Protesting too much, don'tcha think?

Ortho: Even the Headmage said, "I'm growing fonder of Trappola-kun by the second!"

Ortho: Based on prior literature, statistically speaking, if you were to confess to someone with the same passion as you did today…

Ortho: You're sure to have no trouble getting someone to fall in love with you!

Ace: There ain't no passion. That wasn't a confession!

Ace: …And all you stop your stupid grinning!

Epel: Wow, I didn't realize how much you put into it…

Epel: I wish I could've seen you looking so cool, Ace-kun.

Ortho: Leave it to me! I still have the recording. I'll send you the video later.

Ace: STOP WITH THE RECORDING!

Deuce: Oh, nice thinking. We should all watch it later once we're done clearing everything away. You guys good with doing it at Ramshackle?

Jack: Running a play-by-play could be fun. I'm feeling more awake now.

Sebek: I shall give my own evaluation of it as well!

Sebek: You said I was the guy today with the worst chance among all of us. I'll make sure to thoroughly lambast you as penance.

Ace: DON'T BE TRYING TO MAKE INTO A VIEWING PARTY!

1. No need to be shy. 2. We just want to pay tribute to your gallant speech.

Ortho: Yeah～!

Ortho: That's why you, Ace Trappola-san, who already has thought of what his ideal partner would be…

Ortho: Is the best suited suitor of all!

Ace: …Aaaaah, come on! I've already told you… I wasn't serious at all!

Grim: Woah. Ace's turned completely red even to the tips of his ears!

Deuce: Haha, you're right. This isn't something we get to ever see.

Jack: Hey, Ortho. Make sure you capture this moment too.

Grim: You too, [Yuu], snap a shot on the ghost camera!

Ace: Why's everyone gotta mess with me like this…?

Ace: Just drop it already, guys～～!

Requested by Anonymous.

[lixiepixiedust]

friends

pairing — badboy!felix x fem!reader; highschool au; friends w/ benefits

word count — 3.1k words

warnings — she/her reader, they argue way too much in this, jealousy (both ways), felix is kinda aggressive, uses of korean names, suggestive, small make out, almost sex

summary — you and felix have been friends with benefits for far too many months and everyone knows you secretly like each other. when mutual jealousy arises, you too get into an argument that makes your feelings way too obvious its silly.

"Y/n!" A boy in your year approached you with an eager expression. His name was Juwon, and you two have talked a few times in Chemistry class. He was nice, super weird, but nice. You still tried to avoid him when could since being around him was often draining.

You chuckled awkwardly, "Hey, what's up?" you asked.

"Can I ask you something?" he inquired, lowering his voice.

"Sure," you replied with a forced smile.

"You know, Felix?" he blurted out quickly. "Are you dating him?"

Your smile faded as your eyebrows furrowed, "Why do you want to know?"

"I don't know, I've just noticed you two walking home together and chatting in the hallways," he explained defensively.

"Are you stalking us?" you asked skeptically.

"No! I'm not stalking you," he clarified.

"Ok, this is kinda weirding me out," you chuckled, clearly uncomfortable.

"Sorry, I just see you two so often," he said.

You raised an eyebrow, still puzzled by Juwon's sudden interest in your relationship with Felix. "Okay, but why do you care if Felix and I are dating or not?"

Juwon scratched the back of his head nervously. "Well, um, the thing is, I sorta have a crush on you."

You blinked in surprise, not expecting that confession. "Oh," you said, not sure how to respond. You took a moment to process this information. It explained his odd behavior and sudden interest in your personal life. "Look, Juwon, I have to be honest too—I'm not looking to date anyone right now. I've got a lot going on."

Juwon nodded, disappointment evident on his face. "Oh, I see. Well, I guess I just wanted to know for sure. Sorry if I made it weird."

"It's okay, Juwon. I appreciate you being upfront about it," you said, trying to ease the awkward tension.

"Well, you know, cause you're not with anyone, I was wondering if, I could get your number, though?" he asked tentatively.

You thought about it for a moment. Despite his quirks, Juwon seemed like a genuinely nice person. "If you want it, you have to promise me it's just as friends," you said with a small smile. "I hope you understand that's all I'm looking for right now."

"Nevermind, then," he replied, a bit crestfallen. "Bye, Y/n."

After Juwon left, you sighed, feeling a mix of relief and sympathy for him. You gathered your things and decided to take a break in the hallway. As you walked towards your locker, you couldn't help but mull over the recent encounter. The hallway was relatively quiet, and you leaned against your locker, staring absentmindedly at the passing students.

As you were lost in thought, contemplating the conversation with Juwon, you suddenly heard familiar laughter approaching. Turning your head, you saw your boy best friend, Felix, walking down the hallway, engaged in a lively conversation with a girl who's name you completely forgot. They seemed to be getting along well, laughing and sharing jokes as they walked.

A strange sensation gripped your stomach, a mix of surprise and discomfort. You didn't expect Felix to be chatting so animatedly with another girl, and for some reason, it made you feel a twinge of jealousy. You shook your head, trying to dismiss the irrational feeling. After all, you and Felix were not dating yet, and you had no right to be possessive or jealous.

Felix looked up, and his gaze met yours. That familiar smirk played on his lips as his flirty eyes eyed you up and down, assessing you. You couldn't help but clutch your bag. You gave him a small wave, matching his energy, but he then continued his conversation with the girl beside him.

As you turned away from Felix, trying to shake off the strange feeling in your stomach, you unlocked your locker and gathered your homework and textbooks. With a deep breath, you tried to compose yourself before making your way to find, your bestfriend, Chaewon.

Spotting her not too far away, you weaved through the crowd and approached her. Chaewon's eyes lit up when she saw you, and she enveloped you in a tight hug. "Y/n! How's it going?" she exclaimed.

You returned the hug, grateful for the comfort of a friend. "Hey, Chaewon. It's been a bit of a day, to be honest. How are you?"

"I'm great! I'm ahead on all my work. Come to my locker, tell me everything."

You nodded, and you both made your way to her locker away from the bustling students. You stood beside her as you shared a bit about the encounter with Juwon and the unexpected interaction with Felix and the girl.

Chaewon listened attentively, concern evident on her face as she closed her locker. "Sounds like a lot's happening. You know, guys can be so confusing sometimes. Maybe Felix was just being friendly with that girl, you know, like how he is with everyone? You two have been fucking for like months, there's nothing getting in your way."

You chuckled nudging her playfully. "I'm not worried about that." you lied.

As you continued chatting, Chaewon suddenly looked past your shoulder, her eyes widening slightly. "Hey, speaking of the elephant in the room," she said, pointing discreetly behind you.

You turned around, and indeed, Felix was leaning against a nearby wall, observing the two of you with a playful smirk on his face. Your heart skipped a beat as you caught his gaze. "Hey, Y/n." he called, strolling over with a confident stride.

Chaewon shot you a knowing look before excusing herself, purposely leaving you alone with Felix. "What's up, Felix?" you asked, trying to sound casual.

He leaned against the locker beside you. "Just wanted to see you. How was today? We didn't have time to talk at all."

"Yeah, um, nothing else besides Lee Juwon asking if we were dating," you admitted, avoiding eye contact with Felix.

Felix raised an eyebrow, a hint of curiosity in his eyes. "And what did you tell him?"

You sighed, "I don't even think I gave him an answer after all. Then he told me he liked me."

Felix remained silent for a moment, his jaw tensing. "Juwon has a crush on you?" he repeated, his tone more serious than before.

"Yeah," you continued, "he asked for my number, but I made it clear that I'm not looking to date anyone right now. I just wanted to be honest with him, cause I would've told him we weren't dating."

Felix's expression shifted, a subtle disappointment flickering across his face. "Oh," he said, his usual playful demeanor momentarily subdued.

"Yeah, sorry if that's not what you were expecting," you added, feeling a bit uneasy about the whole situation.

Felix leaned back against the lockers, running a hand through his hair. "No, it's cool."

You nodded, appreciating his nonchalant response. "I mean, we're just hanging out, right?"

"Right," he said, though there was a hint of something in his eyes that you couldn't quite place.

After a moment of silence, you mustered the courage to bring up the topic that had been bothering you. "By the way, who was that girl you were talking to earlier?"

Felix's expression brightened a bit as he remembered the interaction. "Oh, her? Just someone from my last period class. We started talking recently. She's cool." Felix nudged you with a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Don't worry, though."

You tilted your head, trying to maintain your composure. "Oh, I'm not worried. Why would I have any reason to be worried?"

Felix chuckled, a sly smile playing on his lips. "Right, right. We're just hanging out, after all."

The mocking tone in Felix's words didn't go unnoticed by you. You felt a surge of frustration, but you tried to brush it off. "Exactly, just friends," you replied with a forced smile.

Felix's smirk widened, and he looked down at you, a subtle condescension in his gaze. "Glad we're on the same page, then."

Your irritation grew, but you bit your lip, choosing not to escalate the situation. "Yeah."

The tension between you and Felix lingered as the conversation continued. The casual banter that usually flowed between you two felt strained, and there was an unspoken frustration in the air.

As the final bell rang, signaling the end of the school day, you found yourself heading towards the exit with a mix of apprehension and determination. You reached the school gates and you noticed Felix a few steps ahead of you, also making his way out. The distance between you felt like a vast chasm, filled with unspoken words and unresolved tension. Despite the silence, Felix glanced back and caught your eye, a momentary flicker of uncertainty crossing his face.

When you stepped out into the fresh air, Felix slowed down, allowing you to catch up. He reached over and effortlessly took your bag off your shoulders to carry it for you, a gesture he had made a habit of since the beginning of your friendship. It was a small comfort, a silent acknowledgment of a bond that seemed strained at the moment.

The two of you walked side by side, the silence becoming almost suffocating. However, Felix's act of taking your bag spoke volumes. Even in the midst of frustration and unspoken words, he didn't want you to bear the weight alone.

"So, Felix, anything interesting happen with you today?" you asked, attempting to steer the conversation away from the awkwardness.

Felix shrugged, his eyes still holding a hint of irritation. "Not really, just the usual. Classes, hanging out, you know." He snapped sarcastically.

"Mhm," you replied.

The silence that followed was filled with an uncomfortable energy. You could sense Felix's annoyance, and you were growing increasingly frustrated yourself. It was as if the unspoken tension was bubbling just beneath the surface.

Finally, Felix broke the silence with a sarcastic chuckle. "So, you and Juwon, huh? Quite the love triangle developing here."

You rolled your eyes, irritation rising. "Don't be ridiculous, Felix. It's not like that. I told you I rejected him."

He raised an eyebrow, a smug expression on his face. "Sure, sure. After all, we're just friends, right?"

You clenched your jaw, annoyed by his insinuations. "Yes, Felix, just friends. Is that so hard to believe?"

He leaned in closer, a challenging glint in his eyes. "Well, if we're just friends, then why do we-"

"Felix, stop." You interrupted him before he could finish his sentence.

Felix sighed. "I was about to say: Why did it bother you so much to see me talking to another girl?" That was clearly not what he was about to say.

Your cheeks flushed with a mix of embarrassment and frustration. "It didn't bother me. I was just curious. That's all."

Felix's smirk only widened. "Curious, huh? Seems like someone's a little more invested than they're letting on."

You took a deep breath, trying to keep your composure. "You know what, Felix? This whole thing is ridiculous. If you're going to act like this, maybe we should just stick to being actual friends and nothing more."

"Wait, I thought we were friends to begin with." Felix laughed which pushed your buttons even more.

The irritation between you and Felix continued to escalate as you walked towards the intersection where you two normally split up to go to your own houses after school.

Finally reaching the familiar crossroad, you stopped and turned to face Felix. "Give me my bag."

Felix crossed his arms, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Oh, come on, Y/n. No need to be so uptight about it."

You gritted your teeth, frustration bubbling to the surface. "Felix, I mean it. I just want to go home."

He chuckled, seemingly enjoying your discomfort. "You know, you're being quite stubborn about this. What's the harm in hanging out a bit more? We're just friends, right? "

You sighed, feeling a mix of annoyance and fatigue. "Felix, we're not in the mood for this right now. Can we please just go our separate ways?"

But instead of acquiescing, Felix shook his head with a playful smirk. "Nah, I've got a better idea. How about you come over to my place?'"

The irritation reached its peak as you reluctantly allowed him to guide you in the direction of his house. "Fine, but only for a little while. I've got things to do."

Felix grinned triumphantly, his playful demeanor seemingly unaffected by the tension. "Deal."

As you and Felix approached his house, a familiar sense of comfort washed over you. You had been there countless times before, and despite the current tension between you two, a small part of you couldn't help but feel a fleeting sense of happiness at the prospect of spending time in a familiar environment.

Felix swung open the door with his usual flair, ushering you inside. The air inside his house was filled with a mix of warmth and familiarity.

You had been to Felix's house many times before, and despite the current tension between you two, a small part of you couldn't help but feel a sense of comfort at the prospect of spending time there.

Reaching Felix's front door, he swung it open with a flourish, gesturing for you to enter. "After you, my friend,"

You stepped inside, the familiar surroundings evoking a strange mix of emotions. It was a place filled with memories of laughter, shared secrets, and casual hangouts. The familiarity momentarily lifted your spirits, and you found yourself slipping into a momentary sense of contentment.

Felix closed the door behind you, and you both made your way to the living room. "So, what do you feel like doing? Homework?" Felix asked, attempting to break the awkward silence.

You hesitated for a moment, still grappling with the unresolved tension between you two. "Honestly, Felix, I don't know why you insisted on dragging me here."

Felix plopped down on the couch, looking at you with a casual grin, ignoring your question. "Or..." he took your hand and pulled you onto the couch with him, "My parents aren't home, but that doesn't matter cause we're just friends hanging out, right"

"Why can't you let it go, Felix?" you retorted, your frustration reaching a boiling point. "I don't understand why you're so pressed about this whole thing."

Felix's anger suddenly bursted out of nowhere. "Because we're not just friends, and you damn well know it!"

His words hung in the air, the weight of the unspoken tension finally surfacing. Before you could respond, Felix closed the distance between you two in an instant. The sudden intensity caught you off guard as he slightly pushed your shoulders against the side of the couch, pulling you into a hot, angry kiss.

The kiss was a collision of conflicting emotions—frustration, desire, and a hint of desperation. Felix's lips pressed against yours with a fiery intensity, as if trying to convey everything he couldn't put into words. The anger that had simmered between you two transformed into a raw, passionate exchange.

For a moment, you were suspended in a whirlwind of conflicting feelings. The familiarity of Felix's touch, coupled with the undeniable chemistry, ignited a spark that had been smoldering beneath the surface. It was a heated kiss that spoke volumes, a silent admission of the unspoken connection that neither of you could deny.

The air crackled with the intensity of the moment, and for that brief instant, it felt like the world outside ceased to exist. The kiss lingered for what felt like an eternity, and as Felix finally pulled away, hovering over you.

Felix's eyes bore into yours, looking down on you. "Do friends make out every week, or is that just us?"

You took a moment to collect your thoughts, the conflicting desire within you. "Just us," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

"So, we're not just friends, are we?"

Felix, sensing the subtle shift, leaned in closer, his eyes locking onto yours. There was a quiet intensity in his gaze that spoke volumes. Without saying a word, he traced a gentle path with his fingers along your jawline, sending shivers down your spine.

Your breath caught as Felix's lips latched onto the sensitive skin of your neck. A soft gasp escaped your lips, and your heart raced in response to the unexpected touch. His kiss was rough, mirroring the unspoken desire between you.

Felix sucked on your neck, leaving a mark. It sent a wave of tingles through your body, and you couldn't deny the magnetic pull that drew you closer. The room seemed to fade away, leaving only the sensation of his lips against your skin.

As Felix continued to explore the delicate curve of your neck, a mix of emotions flooded your senses—desire, uncertainty, and the undeniable chemistry that had always simmered beneath the surface. It was a moment suspended in time, where the boundaries between friendship and something more became increasingly blurred.

Finally, Felix pulled back, his eyes locking onto yours with a mixture of playfulness and sincerity. "Friends don't usually do that, do they?"

You took a deep breath, attempting to process the whirlwind of emotions that had just unfolded. Felix's eyes searched yours for a reaction, and a vulnerable tension lingered in the air.

"No," you replied, your voice dripped with lust.

Felix grinned, his playful demeanor returning. "Well, I guess that means we've crossed the line ages ago."

He gently brushed a strand of hair away from your face and leaned in for another kiss, the intensity of the moment still lingering. You reciprocated the kiss, but as Felix's hands began to wander up your skirt, you felt a surge of hesitation. Even though you two have had sex a few times already, you first needed to talk this whole thing out. Pulling back slightly, you met his gaze with a hint of caution. "Felix," you breathed out, "Stop, slow down."

Felix's hands halted immediately as you pulled away, and he looked at you with an understanding expression. The room, once charged with a heated atmosphere, seemed to cool down as Felix maintained a respectful distance.

"Sorry," he said softly, catching his breath. "I got carried away."

"It's okay," you replied, your voice a bit shaky.

As the tension eased, Felix reached out to gently fix your hair, his touch tender and considerate.

Felix, with his usual playful demeanor, leaned back with a smirk, the glint of mischief in his eyes undiminished. "Well, that was unexpected of friends, right?"

[kettle-flakes]

k so slay the princess is rotting my brain but currently one big thought is chilling in my brain, and like- hear me out (sorry if my wording doesn't convey my thoughts well skskfjdjg)

but I don't think the damsel is entirely as shallow as some may see her as. HEAR ME OUT- compared to the other princesses, yes, she definitely more shallow. and she is also (at least when looking at deconstructed) poking fun at those trying to have an easy and work free romance route where the princess does whatever you like and loves you so, so much. i'm not saying she's supremely deep and that no one understands her but me, but I also don't think she exists solely to mock players with absolutely nothing to say about the nature of human permanence either.

does that make sense? more thoughts below- they're a bit disjointed though so warning ^^;

I personally think the damsel can also represent a very real form love, so to speak.

gimme a min to explain. I think what initially led me to this is a line from the narrator equating the smitten and the damsel to acting like teenagers in love. and that line sorta shifted my perspective a bit on her a little? seeing that kinda made me go "ohhhhhhh makes sense" like it really did remind me of two kids who don't entirely get what dating entails but still want to be together, and given the endgame sequence the damsel's section just kinda cemented this mindset for me.

for clarification the damsel has two(?) bits of dialog depending on whether she's deconstructed or not. If she isn't she says something along the lines of (iirc) "you had a desire and you set that desire free/not caring about what it took or costed you in the process" annnd?? like that's kinda wholesome to me?

like the damsel's love with the player isn't nearly as in depth, complicated, or complete as say the thorn, but it's a passionate love. it's also a naive love. the sort of love you'd find with, well, teenagers having a crush. of course when people get older they see those old crushes as frivolous and flat, but to the people experiencing them in the moment, it's real! it's serious! they were still willing to risk a lot just to be together. and at least at the start, you're willing to be killed by the princess if it means she's safe after having a battle of control against the narrator. it just reads as very human to me. they truly felt that their love could conquer anything.

I feel the thorn is a more 'adult' version of the damsel. it's that passionate love taking on a more mature form. it has more hardships to go through and way more pitfalls and mistakes that one can make compared to the more childish love like the damsel's. there's less theatrics and fanfare, and to me it feels more somber and quiet. it's a contrast between the high stakes emotion filled damsel, and the more intimate, tense, and self-aware thorn. ultimately in the end for both of them, they come to a realization that love is a powerful tool almost in a way that mirror each other.

some of the same occurrences leading up to the route are also shared between the two. like having the princess stab you in the prior route. I also think it's worth noting that in the thorn, the thistles can be seen as/can be referred to a prison of her own making. something she can leave if she was willing to make the effort to do so. it's similar to the damsel's shackles being easily slipped off her wrist. she could free herself.

also by extension, say what you will about the smitten but he loves the princess no matter what form she takes. even when she kills him he still adores her. he is content with being cooked alive by the princess if that's what she wants. i think he's a lot like the damsel in that sense. whatever she wants, she will have. if the damsel is molded to love the player, the smitten is absolutely molded to love the princess in the same way.

[thlayli-ra]

Trick or treat is such a fun idea!

Could I request a Punkintyre ficlet with the shock collar prompt 🥺 (I would very much appreciate Drew being the one in the collar but I leave the details in your very capable hands)

Ok so, just, let me explain myself here! By the time this prompt came through I had already received the Cody Rhodes 'Shock Collar' prompt and I didn't want to essentially write the same fic so I tried to come up with something different and I couldn't stop thinking about this gifset from Bad Blood and @fantasticalleigh 's tags on it about Punk and Drew being like two beasts mating in captivity, and it made me think of the original Planet of the Apes movie and well... this is the final result. Hope it's kinda, sorta what you were hoping for (I'm sorry!)??? 😬

Trick - 'Shock Collar'

Characters - CM Punk, Drew McIntyre

Rating - Mature (18+)

Warning Tags - Alien Abduction, Drugging, Breeding, Non-Con, Dub-Con, Rough Sex

'Punk! Wake up! Wake up, ye stupid prick!'

A meaty palm slapped his cheek, stirring him from his deep sleep. 'Ow!' Punk grunted moodily. 'What the fuck's wrong with you?'

It was then that he saw the raw terror in Drew McIntyre's eyes. 'Everything is wrong! Everything is as fucking wrong as it can possibly be!'

His vision started juddering back into focus and Punk spied the metal above Drew's head. For a split second he thought they were both in the Cell, and that he'd taken a bad bump and passed out during their match but he soon realised that these were not the zig-zag mesh of Hell in a Cell.

These were bars!

They were both locked in some kind of cage!

Punk sat up like a shot to look around. The cage was large, more like an enclosure, and rich in foliage, wiry bushes, dirt and rocks. Punk was lying on a bed of hay in the top-most corner, under a bamboo canopy like some kind of animal in a zoo.

'Drew?' he stammered out. 'Where the hell are we?'

'I have no idea...'

The large Scot lumbered up to his feet and tentatively stepped out from under the canopy and into the make-shift forest. Behind him, Punk gawked when he noticed Drew's attire. Or lack of it! 'What are you wearing?'

Drew glanced down at the sparse shred of clothing to his name - a loin-cloth made from animal pelt draped around his waist and a metal collar around his neck. 'Same as you,' he shot back and Punk looked down and found to his horror that Drew was right. Letting out a curse, he shoved the front of his loin cloth down between his legs to give himself some decency then moved his fingers up to inspect the steel collar at his throat. It was bolted fast. The panic escalated into full-on alarm! 'What the fuck is going on?'

'Shh,' Drew hushed him, his ears pricked.

'You hear something?' Punk whispered.

'Shut up!'

Drew edged his way forward, reaching out his long arm to swipe through a clump of giant leaves and push them aside to reveal-

'JESUS CHRIST!' Drew toppled backwards with fright, landing hard on his lower back.

'FUCK!' Punk yelled, shuffling further back into his corner.

Quick as a flash Drew rushed up beside him, the two men shaking with terror. 'You saw that, right?' the Scot asked.

'Yeah,' Punk hushed out, trying to process what he had just seen. 'Yeah I saw it.'

Behind the leaves there had been a gap in the bars, filled with what looked like glass. A viewing gallery to peer into their enclosure. And there standing at the window were two figures crafted from their very nightmares. Impossibly tall and thin, something not of his world or the limits of his understanding, something that was completely...

...alien!

Suddenly a high-pitched shriek tore through Punk's head. He let out a wail as the pain screeched behind his eyes, covering his ears to try and stifle the blare.

'-creatures of P-0087453-E,' a tinny voice spoke inside Punk's very skull. 'We believe they refer to it as Earth-'

'W-what's happening?' Drew gritted out through his clenched teeth, tearing at his hair. He could hear it too!

'I don't know, I- GAH!'

'-simple creatures, not highly advanced. They can be prone to acts of violence and aggression, acting purely on their most basic urges-'

'I can hear a voice!' Punk yelled over the static in his skull. 'I think... I think it's them. Whatever they are!'

'I hear it too. How is that possible?'

'I have no idea! AAAGHHH!' The pain was growing, like somebody was blasting a badly tuned radio in his head.

'-but incredibly rare and valuable. Which is why our experts identified these two as a fertile pair and brought them here for our breeding programme-'

Punk froze. Had he really heard that right? Or did he just imagine it? Glancing up at Drew he was shocked to find the Scot looking deathly pale. He was afraid the larger man was about to keel over any second and shook him roughly by the shoulder to snap him out of his stupor. 'Hey, you ok?'

'This can't be happening! This is all some fucked up dream. This can't be-'

'-we will start our programme by activating the pheromones in the dominant male-'

Punk's stomach fell out from under him, wondering what on Earth that meant! Perhaps there was some kind of mechanism in the cage that would spray it into the enclosure? Anticipating it, he grabbed in a lungful of air and held it, waiting, listening, watching for anything to happen.

But nothing did.

He released his breath with a loud gasp, coughing oxygen back into his bloodstream. 'I think we're in the clear,' he told Drew, 'I didn't see or hear anything and I don't feel any different so-'

Drew let out a heavy grunt beside him, cutting him off and Punk turned to find the Scot shaking his head like he was trying to fend off an incoming sneeze.

'Drew? What's wrong?'

Drew's head shot up, his gaze finding Punk and fixing on him. His pupils were completely blown, erasing all the blue from his eyes. Making him resemble some kind of wild animal in the woods, a bear or wolf or... no, more like a shark circling the water, smelling fresh blood. Strong and dangerous. And hungry!

Guess he'd just found out who the so-called 'dominant male' was, and if that was Drew, then what exactly did that make Punk?

'Pheromones activated. Now all we have to do is wait and we'll hopefully see the mating rituals of this fascinating species.'

Shhhhhit! 'D-Drew?'

But the larger man wasn't listening! Settling onto his haunches like a crouched tiger, he began to stalk closer to his prey who scrabbled backwards with a yelp but where could Punk go? They were completely caged in and inevitably his spine collided with the metal bars of the cage, cutting off his retreat. Drew was on him now, mammoth arms boxing him in on either side and trapping him completely.

'Drew! Snap out of- urk!'

Punk's heart twisted with fear when Drew's bear paw found his chin, grasped it and lifted it up like he had done so many times before. The black, lifeless eyes looked him all over, Drew tilting his head slightly and giving that exact same elated smirk he'd worn back in the Cell at the first sight of Punk's blood. The hand at his chin then went for his throat, wrapping around Punk's collar and pushing him back until the base of his skull clattered against the bars.

Eyes clouded. No thoughts, only instinct.

'Drew! Hey McIntyre, listen to me!' Punk tried to break through the Scot's hysteria, tried to snap him out of this trance. 'You gotta fight it, you hear me? Fight it!'

But it was in vain. Punk's mouth was abruptly gagged by Drew's invading tongue, the larger man growling and snarling, rumbles vibrating down his throat and through their chests pressed together, while large, thick hands stroked all over Punk's shoulders and back and chest and nipples then trailed down his ribs and stomach and pelvis to-

'NO!' Punk wrenched his face to the side, freeing his mouth. His hand grabbed hold of Drew's wrist, stopping it in its tracks. 'GET OFF! STOP IT, DREW! THIS ISN'T YOU!'

And then the blue flickered back into Drew's eyes and for a brief moment, his humanity returned, only to be engulfed once again. 'No, no, no, no,' Drew pushed himself off of Punk, stumbling away. Punk, still packed tight against the bars of the cage, watched as the Scot roared in distress, grabbing fistfuls of his own hair, twisting his head from left-to-right and back again, a man trying to evade a swarm of invisible wasps.

'No,' he growled under his breath. 'No, not like this! Not this way!' Drew blinked the blue back into his eyes, holding onto himself again, however fleetingly. Then turned his attention towards the window of terror hidden away at the far end of the cage. 'No!' he spat at their captors, 'I won't!'

'-hmm, perhaps the first dose wasn't strong enough. Activating a second dosage-'

This time, Punk saw the powder puff up from Drew's metal collar, engulfing his face, and like before he struggled and writhed, trying to evade the poison but it was clinging to him, following him around the enclosure no matter how far he tried to run. His roars filled the air, Punk quaking with fear at its feral nature. Too scared to move, he watched as the huge Scotsman bent down and heaved a huge rock right up out of the ground.

'What the hell is he-?'

Drew rushed towards the observation window, the boulder raised high, meaning to throw it right through the glass and shatter it to smithereens.

'Immediate threat detected. Engaging collar!'

A loud crackle and Drew tossed his head back, screaming in agony. The boulder plunged from his arms and his body soon followed, both hitting the floor with a crash.

Punk leapt up to his feet, his heart in his throat.

'There, that should pacify him-'

But their captors grossly underestimated the fortitude of their prisoner. 'I'm no some beast in a cage,' he croaked, dragged his arms under him to push himself up, 'and you won't reduce me to one!'

'Shock him again!'

Another crackle and Drew fell onto his back, spine rigid and arched painfully off the filthy floor, howling through his gritted teeth, until the shockwave released him and all four limbs flopped, lifelessly. From his position by the bars, Punk held his breath, looking for any sign of life.

It all seemed hopeless. Until Drew rolled his hips back.

Unbelievably, he flipped up onto his feet in a perfect kip-up, just like he would in the ring and before they had a chance to shock him again, he grabbed up the boulder and launched it through the air with all his might.

'WATCH OUT! WATCH OUT!'

Drew went down with another terrible shockwave just as the boulder crashed against the glass, not shattering it but creating a crack that almost split the screen in two. Only this time, the gruelling torture didn't stop. The shocks continued, the Scot's body contorted horribly, flailing rigidly in the dirt. Punk rushed towards him, hearing the electricity running through his fellow wrestler, seeing the turmoil on his face. He looked towards that window of terror, and the creatures hidden behind the fractured spiderweb of broken glass.

'That's enough!' he yelled towards it, hoping that, by some miracle, if he could hear those things that they could hear him too. 'You'll kill him! Stop!'

But still the jolts continued, one after the other. And now Drew wasn't screaming anymore and Punk could see froth foaming at his mouth, his blue eyes rolling into the back of his head.

'I SAID THAT'S ENOUGH!'

Still nothing. Punk's head went blank with panic, desperation.

'WE'LL DO IT! WE'LL DO WHATEVER YOU WANT! JUST TURN OFF THE COLLAR FOR FUCK'S SAKE!'

And finally... the crackling stopped. Followed by dreadful silence, highlighting the heavy breathing of both men and the putrid smell of burning flesh in the air.

'Punk...'

Punk's eyes found Drew's weakly fluttering back at him, pain-filled and weak. Ringed by the tiniest sliver of blue. 'It's ok, Drew, it's alright.'

'No... don't...'

Looking around him, Punk found the perfect spot and shuffled over to a large, flat rock. Slumping down to his knees, he bent over and lay atop the cold surface, lifting his hips up into the air.

Nothing happened. He looked back to find Drew where he left him, refusing to move.

'Come on Drew, it's alright. Just do as they say.' The Scot shook his head stubbornly. 'One little fuck isn't worth killing yourself over. Anyway, isn't this what you've wanted this whole time?'

'Not like this,' Drew choked out with a sob.

'If they kill one of us, they'll kill both of us,' Punk protested. 'The only chance we have of getting out of this is by sticking together.'

But still, Drew refused to move.

Punk sighed with defeat. Turning his face away, he placed his cheek against the cold rock and whispered, 'hit him with the pheromones again.'

From behind him, he could hear Drew call 'what did you just- urgh!' Then he held his breath and waited.

It didn't take long for Drew to crawl over, sniffing like a curious beast at Punk's rear. The tattooed man flinched when his loin cloth was ripped up, exposing his open cheeks and Drew mounted him from behind, his hairy chest and stomach rubbing up against his bare back. Two huge fists wrapped around Punk's skinny wrists and held them down, keeping Punk securely pinned on his front to the rock face as Drew rubbed his sopping wet and rock hard dick between Punk's glutes, prodding his head around until it lined up against his puckered hole.

Then rammed himself in. Punk choked on a cry of pain, a terrible burning at his rectum as he was stretched wide and entered. The beast on his back hooking himself into his body, breaking through the seal and into his guts, tearing him open.

No thoughts, only instinct.

And Punk closed his eyes and tried to fight the growing ache between his own legs and Drew's hands shackling his wrists tightly, and his warm breath grunting against his ear and his sweat falling onto Punk's back and pooling in that small hollow at the base of his spine and his huge dick ravishing him again and again.

But soon the blood and the pre-cum lubricated his passage, and Drew began to move easier and the thrusts became long and powerful and struck that perfect little sweet spot deep inside of him and Punk began to hear the crackles in his own skull and see the explosions of electricity behind his own eyelids and in an instant, he forgot the cage, the window, their plight and he became lost in the throes of the delicious mix of pain and pleasure. Opening his thighs up wider to entice Drew in even further, his lips fell open and he moaned, a line of drool escaping the corner of his mouth and dripping onto the stone beneath him.

Drew began to pump in harder, scrubbing Punk's naked chest against the jagged rock and Punk was so helpless, caught in the larger man's strong grip and he couldn't help but love his helplessness, being held down and bred like a bitch in heat, all while being watched, being observed. A thought bubbled to the surface of his consciousness, wondering if he too had been hit with some kind of pheromone to muddle his senses but it fell away again when Drew hit his bundle of nerves head-on with the blunt tip of his dick. His own cock was full to bursting and it was too much to bear and when he let out a strangled cry, Drew obliged him by letting go of his wrist and grabbing him between the legs, pumping his shaft with a taut grip, the pad of his thumb teasing his slit.

'Fascinating! We always wondered how two males of this species mated and now we know it's through the-'

Punk went blind and deaf and even the blaring static in his head was drowned out as warm cum seeped into him and out of him, sopping from his wrecked hole and between his swollen cheeks and down his ragged thighs onto the dirt below. Drew collapsed onto him, nuzzling his face into the hollow between Punk's shoulder blades and kissed his flushed skin tenderly. 'S'you ok?' was all Punk's numb lips could form. Drew answered with a throaty purr.

Later, the pair were up on the hay under the canopy, Punk firmly snuggled in Drew's arms, both of them fast asleep. But something stirred the tattooed man slightly from his slumber, a tinny voice echoing around his skull.

'-a success. But this is only phase one of our breeding programme. Tomorrow we'll prep the submissive male for surgery and move into phase two-'

[dykedvonte]

I keep wondering how much curly even knew. He thought anya was trying to hurt herself bc they were all being let go (not bc jimmy sa'd her), but when she said 'i told you' he immediately knew she was talking about jimmy - but what did she tell him? did she tell him directly so he def knew that it wasn't a consensual encounter or did he only realize when jimmy told him that he'd get in trouble for it too? Or maybe he didn't believe anya at all at first? I wish we'd gotten that part of the conversation bc his behaviour looks very different depending on the answer

Whenever I think about it I think of the factors we have and more importantly what we don’t.

It’s intentional that the details of what happened are vague. We don’t have the when where and how, we don’t actually know what told means in this context where characters speak to each other in pretty heavy “what ifs” and “do you get it”.

I always interpret it as in told in a sort of fore warning. All the little details she was giving Curly were her telling him and he couldn’t see them the same or at all. It’s kinda why I have a sort of disdain for the I told you so in fan works because what she told him and what we see and know as outsider may not be the same. I’m not blaming Anya, far from it. She made an effort to reach out to Curly in a way that didn’t implicate her, didn’t send Jimmy directly back to her. She never directly says Jimmy did it, she never uses the word rape, but when she says I told you, Curly knows. When she says she told Jimmy, Curly knows what that means. When he talks to Jimmy, he finally understands it. It’s his fault for not getting it, not doing enough for those wanting but I don’t believe they were anything he took as extremely dangerous, not until too late.

He did something, just not enough, not the right something.

I never had the impression he didn’t believe Anya more so he had no idea how to actually handle and address it. That is a big fault on his part as what he did do just prolong Jimmy’s inevitable crash out. He never took her concerns lightly and he did try to comfort her, but he didn’t get what those concerns were about, not fully. So comforting her can never feel fulfilling.

Something that always gets me is how much talking Jimmy does in his scenes with Curly. Curly sorta shuts down and just lets him say whatever and we have try and piece a coherent thought process for him together about words and intentions that aren’t his own. The conversations we see are likely all the conversations that happened, the ones that mattered, that paint the bigger picture with little details.

We all assume the I told you was a direct statement but almost everything is n the game is cheekily indirect. We assume he’s known for a while, but we can’t know. I feel like us not knowing how aware Curly was is a big point of the commentary. Awareness helps us act more appropriately. He knows Jimmy was at least patronizing towards her position but that’s all he gleaned himself, hence why he takes over the psych eval for him. It’s a lot of wondering what was discussed between him and Anya and how it was.

If it was anything like the dead pixel conversation, which we only get towards the middle end, after we see a lot of the signs, the. I don’t think it got through his thick skull :/. Not in time at least.

[little-miss-dilf-lover]

Ok so, here’s what I’m thinking… feeling kinda self conscious now that summer is approaching (with revealing clothing, shorts and all that coming back into circulation, all the “beach body” talk etc) (mayhaps even more so bc Tan has THAT FREAKING BODY) and trying (and failing) to hide that from Tan. And he’s super reassuring, comforting, loving ALL THAT STUFF 😭😭😭 maybe he’s even a little angry? Bc he hates hearing that 🥺

felt this to my very insides🥲 im a trouser, jumper, long cardigan and docs kinda girl. hate summer, especially clothes wise. literally just had to buy new stuff bc nothing fits right/have nothing to wear. kinda struggled writing this in fic form, so did my thoughts instead💌

implied fem!reader, 614 words

READER SELF-CONSCIOUS WITH SUMMER CLOTHES AND WEATHER.

he notices EVERYTHING!! !! !!!!! 

so maybe it's a hot day and you're meant to be going out together for the day, maybe a nice lakeside pub lunch??

he's all ready to go, but you're still in a towel/ home tee/ pjs trying to find something to wear. so you're at that point where you're really frustrated and hot and bothered and you're throwing clothes out of your dresser/ wardrobe bc you can't find anything

you don't like anything in there, maybe the tops show too much arm and shorts show too much leg and dresses show too much stomach. maybe most of your summer clothes don't fit anymore?? and you don't have enough pieces to make multiple outfits out of and you don't like buying new ones bc you think there's no point

maybe you feel embarrassed/ intimidated to be seen with tan bc he just looks so good and you feel like the opposite

so he knocks on the door and asks how long you'll be. but you're really stressed and honestly very sad, so you're just sat in a pile of clothes on the floor, so you don't answer. he knocks again and opens the door a tad to peek through

he's all like "you okay? what's the matter?" bc idk maybe you have your head in your hands

and maybe you say "I don't want to go out" bc the thought of wearing something you hate is VERY deterring

he comes in and crouches beside you and says "why's that?" he's being super patient and reassuring in the way he speaks, and keeping his eyes on you, all that sorta thing. not being pushy, just being patient and warming

"I have nothing to wear"

and he's looking around all the clothes like wtf you on about? but he doesn't say that. so he just waits for you to finish

so you wait a minute and say "I hate all my clothes"

and bc he doesn't quite understand, he picks up a dress from the floor and says "this is a pretty one. you'll look good in that"

and you're like "no, I hate that one. don't like my arms in it"

and he moves on to pick another dress up and then his brain processes what you said and he's neck whips to face you and he's like "what do you mean?" and he's literally at a loss for words bc he has no idea why you would say that about yourself

and then you shrug and go "I don't know"

maybe now he's finally catching on to what you mean by you have no clothes. he's learnt that 'have no clothes' doesn't mean what it sounds like, but instead something different

and he asks if that's why you don't want to go out etc etc. and bc he's a good bf he says how you can cancel, but will have to rearrange. so he's being supportive in the now (by not having to go out) and in the future (by helping you out of your comfort zone)

he's frankly a little upset that you think so little of yourself, and doesn't understand what you see and how it can be so different to him

he says how he wants to get you a new wardrobe and it's his treat. giving you his card to get pieces you want to wear. it's gonna be a hot couple of months and he doesn't want you feeling shit about yourself

he wants you to get things you'll wear and feel good in. anything you don't like can be returned and if you have no luck finding stuff, move on to another shop

[harrywavycurly]

Trouble Next Door Part 28: Trust

Masterlist: Here

TW: Mentions of divorce and cheating

Tag List: @sinczir @rach5ive @bruher @kellyxo1 @tiannamortis @makingmunson94 @angelina16torres-blog @tlclick73 @gretavankleep37 @melaninjhs @amira0303 @robyn-118 @jaydaaasworld @squidscottjeans @rockstarmunsons @alanamarie @dandelionnfluff @aol19 @eddiesguitarskills @vampdaisy @br66klynbaby @raven-rust @daisyridleyyyy @i-love-ptv @josephquinnsfreckles @mrsjellymunson @hideoutside @eddiemunson-fanfic @paprikaquinn @burns-in-the-sun @cherrycolas-things @exploding-bonbon @krazyk99 @idkbbyx3 @amberpanda99 @munsonmecrazy

A/N: Reminder this takes place as soon as Eddie gets home in part 27! There’s only two parts left and I just wanna say thank yall for being so amazing and showing so much love to this series also lowkey this kinda sorta made me wanna cry so…enjoy✨

“Oh look who decided to finally show up…” “uh hey Jim…I thought you’d be inside…uhm I’m uh kinda already running late as you…clearly already know so can we uhm maybe do this some other-” “I needed a smoke…but I think it’s best if we just get it over with now ya know? Just rip the bandaid off kinda thing.” “You’re not…carrying…are you?” “Jesus Eddie no I’m not carrying…I’m off duty tonight.” “Good..that’s good so uhm..what’s uh…what’s up?” “Relax kid okay?…I just want you to explain to me what’s going on here.” “Uhm well…I uh..I’m dating…her.” “Okay and?” “And…I love her.” “What else?” “What do you…mean?” “You love her…that’s great and all but why should that make me want to let you anywhere near her?” “I won’t hurt her Jim….you know me..I’m not like him.” “She’s been through hell Eddie…between the cheating and the actual process of getting a divorce she’s…she’s fragile right now and I won’t see her go through anything like that again do you understand?” “Yes sir…I understand…but come on…it’s me…I’ve loved her for pretty much as long as I’ve known her…I’m not going to do anything to make her regret loving me.” “I trust you Eddie…but if you make her upset for any reason…Wayne won’t be able to save you from me…you got that?” “Got it…can I uhm go…inside now?” “One more thing…those guys that she asked out…why’d they tell her no? Was that you or do I need to go kick some asses?” “I swear I didn’t tell them to say no…uhm they just…kinda didn’t want to get in the way…of her and I so they uh tried to turn her down…gently.” “Oh…that makes sense…everyone in this town has kinda been waiting for the two of you to get together.” “Well sorry to keep the whole town waiting…” “speaking of waiting..go on inside…she’s been a mess thinking you’d changed your mind about tonight…it’s your first time being together in-front of the group right?” “Yeah…we are kinda using this as an excuse to just let everyone know…we’re together now.” “I’m sure they’ll be happy for you two…now seriously go inside..oh and send Wayne out with ya? I owe him a smoke.” “Yeah I’ll send him out…” “and Eddie…I’m happy you two finally found your way to each other.” “Thanks Jim…I’m happy we did too.”

[bekaroth-reads]

Ascended Astarion x Tav/ reader

Major spoilers ahead!!

[Well, sort of. A bit of an AU for the scene where Astarion turns Tav into his spawn. Sort of where even though Astarion chose to do the ascension ritual, glimmers of his long lost morality claw their way through. Could also be seen as an extension of the actual scene, like after it fades to black or whatever. Just as long as Tav is still alive and he is making them not so. Full discloser, I was watching the 1992 Dracula when I thought of this and sorta, kinda, allota, repurposed/paraphrased some lines from a scene from there. As per usual, I am using you and they pronouns for Tav.]

This was selfish. He knew this was selfish. And, yet, he did not care.

There had been very rare a time that he was never being selfish in one way or another, at least in his mind’s eye. Though the truth of the matter was not so black and white as he was telling himself these nights, once again he did not care. As far as Astarion could understand, after suffering for centuries that this new existence was his reward, his purpose even. After the turmoil, torture, the violations that Cazador had put him through, he had survived- overcame.

Enduring all of the painful pressure of his previous existence, Astarion emerged the brightest diamond glittering in the night. After scraping by in the in the dirt of his own grave, he was now ascending beyond anyone’s comprehension. Though he already thought himself all-powerful from the moment the ritual was finished, there was the pleasant surprise of feeling that power growing day by day.

The hunger for that power and more increased at the same pace if not faster, however. And, while at one point, a young, pale elf would have sworn off the process entirely, the newly matured vampire knew there was one certain way to assure his continued power- spawn.

Though there was still a part of his old self that felt bile rise in his throat at the very thought, as far as Astarion was concerned that old self was truly dead and gone, buried in that graveyard just outside of the city, and who he was now just happened to share a name with the poor sod. Besides, it wasn’t like he was a total monster. Even if he was, nothing he ever did could be worse than what Cazador put him though; he was convinced of that if nothing else.

The thing that seemed to give him pause. Astarion knew in his soul, in the heart of his long-dead, black heart, who he wanted- no- needed to be his first. It couldn’t be anyone else but his dear Tav.

He had been more than patient with you as he let you be sure that all the others in your sordid, little party were actually well off, or rather, as well off as some of them could be. But, he was ready for the next step, and you were willing.

While Astarion was more than proud of his work done freeing himself, he knew that you had aided him greatly. And, something else that he was certain of was that you were his, and he could not bare to lose you. The more mortal you were, the more of a risk there was of that happening. There certainly were plenty of things that could kill, or rather re-kill vampires, however they were fewer a father between. Besides, you would have him there every step of the way. One of the greatest ways to keep you safe was to never take his eyes off of you.

And yet…

Could he really risk putting you through anything remotely akin to what he had gone through?

Once he entered his new, lavish bedchamber, seeing you waiting for him like your whole world started and stopped with his very presence alone, he quickly decided he could. It wouldn’t truly be like what transpired between Cazador and himself. How could it be? Here you were, so ready, so willing. He wasn’t binding you to himself because he wanted to enslave you, not truly. Astarion simply could not think of a life with out his Tav; not any more. He was doing this because he…

This was no time for all of this… this… simply just all of this to be bogging down his mind as well as the mood. He banished the thoughts at least for the moment with a sly grin and hungry eyes as he sauntered over to the place where he had you kneeling before him. He pushed you down as a playful threat and means to lean himself over you. There were words, both of your usual banter, a playful nip or two around your body and then the air filled with the electrifying tension of bracing for what you both knew what was going to happen next.

There was another bite, this time a deep piercing of the skin at your neck. Astarion lingered, indulged in the first gush of your last production of mortal blood for longer than he planned to before sitting up just enough to look you in the eyes again.

“You have given me everything. Thank you.” He almost sang in a sigh before returning to his sanguine ambrosia from where he had opened your veins and punctured your flesh.

As he drank, it became more and more evident that you were fading, the loosening of your hold on him, the stilling of the fingers tracing the scars on his back being a clear signaling…

The scars on his back.

Something that no matter how he might try to distance himself from his old life, no matter how he tried to see them as a symbol of his newly found power, he still couldn’t block out how and why those runes were carved there. And, as if from those runes an elf, a poor young thing that was giving no choice centuries ago cried out in terror, in pain at the sight of himself, no, the monster perusing him now wearing his skin and damning another as he was once damned.

“No!” Astarion cried as he forced himself away from your neck, “I cannot do this to you!” He held your face gently, more gently and less possessively than he had in a long while and whispered, “Not to you, Tav.”

“Please. Do it Astarion. Make me yours. Forever yours.” You pleaded, words fumbling out of your mouth in your delirium, but all of the genuinely earnest.

“To do this is to curse you. Curse you as he cursed me.” Even in raw emotional outbursts, Astarion still couldn’t stand to spit out Cazador’s name, not even once more. “Curse you with me. I-“ Astarion was going to continue the thought, but couldn’t bring himself to. There were still many of his thoughts that he had not and perhaps never would verbally utter to another soul; not even to you.

His eyes soften in a way that you had never seen them before; there were so many emotions swirling behind them. The one that you saw surface the most even in your half-dead haze was guilt. A guilt that seemed to be battling against the animalistic hunger that he had been parading the rest of the night.

“I love you too much to damn you.” He was on the verge of tears, as if part of him didn’t want to fully go though with it anymore, and yet knew it could only fight the rest of him for a few moments more.

It was all the assurance you needed, however. The fact that he loved you was often displayed, but seldom spoken directly. And, if he did indeed love you enough to say so, to give pause no matter what every fiber of his being was telling him to do on the chance that you might regret asking him to embrace you into the life of a vampire spawn, then you knew that he loved you enough- that you loved him enough- that you both would need eternity to even begin showing the extent of it.

“Please.” You whimpered out, and it seemed like all you were feeling was portrayed in the single word as Astarion looked as if the weight of the world had been lifted from his shoulders and the tension on his brow eased. There was a gentle kiss to the wrist that he had bitten earlier tonight.

As soft as it started, his teeth were quick to follow them once the coppery taste of your blood reawakened the more feral side of him. He did not bite your wrist again, simply used his teeth to scrape off some dried blood while his fangs decorated your skin with welts. One more kiss goodbye to your pulse, and he moved to your neck once more.

“As you wish, pet.” Astarion purred and imbibed once more until you were limp in his arms.

Asterion knew that when you woke again, you would have many questions. One that he would deny even knowing about was his show of weakness tonight. If he was going to procure and rule his domain there was no room for frivolities. Well, there would certainly be plenty of frivolities as he so desired and deserved, but the gentler feelings of life were not among them.

Then again, looking at your still, serine form waiting to start its new un-life, forevermore his, Astarion supposed that there might be a few times where he could make the exception; but only for you. Only for sweet, little Tav. His Tav.

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

(tl;dr at the bottom)

this one is just petty, and i'm too much of a pussy to actually do anything (though my friends do say i absolutely should) but:

wibta for filing a complaint (?) against my table group for a class?

i take culinary for one of my classes, and it's one of the saving graces of my otherwise utterly shit high school experience. and while i do enjoy the class, i've recently been put in a group with people who do absolutely nothing and it's been frustrating me. for example, as of the day i am sending this, we made zucchini fritters. the dishwasher and i, the sous chef, did basically all the work and the manager and executive barely did anything unless we actively made them. i can understand the manager doing nothing, since their job is to basically just supervise the kitchen and they don't get to actually cook (worst role for me ngl) but the executive chef, who should be involved in the whole cooking lab, just sat around and watched. now don't get me wrong, i love the process of cooking and making stuff, but it's a little tiring when it's me doing most of the work while other people just grab their phones (they aren't supposed to get them until the lab is finished and the kitchen has been cleaned, for sanitary reasons) and idle about. anyways, the manager at least grated the zucchini while i worked with the green onions and garlic i guess, and during this the executive chef just kinda. stood there and watched? he always had earbuds in and i don't really know what he does, but i thought he'd at least be mixing the batter. he did not, and turns out he really was just standing there the whole time so i mixed the batter after i finished up with my veggies. while i was doing so, i also thought that they'd have put the zucchini in a bowl or a colander or something and started sweating it with the salt, but nope. the two of them just sorta went off to do their own things (stand/ lean against the counters and watch) and so i panicked and dumped the stuff into the nearest clean bowl, and i did manage to get the executive to salt it. then when it was time to squeeze the water out, it was again my job to do so, though i am currently missing about a quarter of my nail on one finger due to it snagging and ripping off. at this point, i think i should mention i have chronic back and joint pains and headaches, and i was starting to feel worse and worse, so i once again asked the executive to squeeze the water for a bit while i snagged a pain killer. when i come back, not even a minute later, he's just dumped the thing into the batter mix, instead of fully squeezing it like i asked him to. then he hands the thing to me and i mix it and then i have to fry it. by the time i start frying, all the other kitchens have finished, we have like half an hour till class is out, and chef puts on hell's kitchen for the class. me and the dishwasher (who offered to help throughout the lab occasionally. she's a godsend.) make them fry the rest (one fritter). while i did do the dishes after it doesn't count since it was as a thank you to the dishwasher who helped me. but other than that, it's like this for pretty much every labs except for when i'm dishwasher, and even then it's not too different since it just means i have to go back and forth between cooking and washing dishes.

i vented to a friend, who also takes a cooking class (catering) about this and he says i should email about it to chef. now this is where the question comes in. i don't feel good about reporting it to chef since i don't want to be a snitch. i, too, engage in listening to music and chilling, so i get the joy of doing these things. if i were to tell the teacher, though, they'd get in trouble for it and i don't think i want that. and i might be biased/ just cranky. last lab, which was hamburger and fries, the guy who was executive today threw away the fries because class was ending even though not everyone got their share of it yet. this instantly put him on the "i dont like this guy" list of mine, and on top of that, i was already feeling a bit cranky and gloomy since waking up, and it was only further worsened by whatever class cooked in the kitchen before my class, who leaves the dishes all dirty and gross every time without fail (specifically, it was all three pans sticky with grease and a glass mixing bowl encrusted with a white substance that set me off today) so i might just be being harsh on them. i usually enjoy getting to cook and actually do things, and thus i haven't had an issue with the lack of help from my tablemates (is that a word) until now, so this could just be me wrongfully directing my negative feelings to them and blaming them.

tl;dr: people in my group in culinary class do jackshit and make me deal with the brunt of the work except for this one girl, friend says i should report their asses to the chef

why i might be the asshole:

i was already cranky and might be just making them the subject of my anger and blaming them

i usually enjoy getting to cook anyways

i might be biased against one of them since he dumped potatoes before i could grab my full share

snitch

why i might not be the asshole:

should not have to do pretty much all the work and they get the same grade despite doing nothing

still have to do most of the work despite chronic back and join pains and headaches + injury

having to actively get them to help me is a pain in the ass since they just go right back to doing nothing after half assing whatever they were asked to do

sorry if this is a bit all over the place, i am bad at articulating my thoughts and the likes, and am currently being fueled by spite, pain, and caffeine.

(@sousanon so i get a notif when this posts)

[bagopucks]

T. Zegras - Stand By Me

✄————————————

Trevor Zegras x Reader, platonic Jamie involved in one bit.

Requested✨

Word Count: 2.2k

Warning(s); general angst, the reader has an auto immune disease called lupus, one mention of blood, sorta-kinda-maybe smut if you squint.. but like.. not really.

I did some research, but because I didn’t want to cross any boundaries and be too wrong, I didn’t go into much depth over anything. I listened to too much Billy Joel while writing this. I’ve decided Billy Joel love ballads go well with Trev.

—————————————

Trevor Zegras as the world knew him:

The aggressive, egotistical, hotshot hockey player. Rough and tumble, always mouthy. The loud, constantly moving, big expressions and huge personality kind of guy.

Trevor as I knew him:

A kind, gentle, considerate boy. Who made sure he set my pill organizer out for me every morning before he went to practice. Who made sure we were always stocked up on prescribed lotions and ice packs. And would spring up from the couch at the first sign of a fever. And learned how to cook on nights when I was in so much pain I could hardly move.

It took forever to get officially diagnosed with lupus. Trevor had been there from the beginning, when symptoms first began. At first, we hadn’t thought much of it. I passed off body aches for period or ovulation issues. I assumed the rashes were allergic reactions, and the fevers were just random waves of California heat. We had been oblivious. When things got worse, I began seeing a doctor.

Test after test had been run through. I was prescribed various medications, some of which helped and others didn’t. But the ones that did help, never lasted long. Eventually, it got to the point that Trevor feared leaving me home alone. Especially on the days he would wake up, and I would be unable to pull myself out of bed. I hated it. He hated it. We feared the unknown.

As much as it overwhelmed me, I knew it overwhelmed Trevor too. All the road trips, calling me, feeling horrible for leaving and saying how he wanted me to call somebody at home if I needed them. He was scared, but it was knowing he wasn’t in control that freaked him out. I assumed that’s why he became so observant and vigilant when we finally did get a diagnosis. Because at last, he could control things. Not everything, but some things.

Trevor hadn’t been home the day I got the diagnosis from my doctor, but it gave me time to really figure things out on my own. I knew little about the autoimmune disease, and as much as I loved Trevor, I knew his endless questions would only overwhelm me more than this new information already did. So I did my own research, allowed myself time to process and cry. Come to terms, and eventually begin working on a game plan for myself.

When Trevor did come home, it was a process of sitting him down on the couch and talking him through it all with everything organized on my laptop. Trevor tried so hard to understand, but I knew it would be a lot of trial and visual learning for him. And I had been right.

“So.. so, this is what you have?” He pointed to the computer screen. I nodded. “And.. it’s permanent?”

“Yeah, babe.” Trevor nodded. He tried to understand. What did autoimmune mean? What was Lupus? Why did it have to have so many big words attached to it?

“So.. where does all the treatment start?”

“Do you have to take medicines?”

“Are you gonna be okay?”

“We can still be together, right?”

“This is a lot.”

I answered most of the questions, at least the ones I knew answers to. The others I promised to answer when I knew what to say.

Trevor got so tense with himself when he was home. We used to be a pretty rambunctious couple, but after I got prescribed blood thinners, and the body aches got worse, a lot of that changed. Trevor became far more timid around me, and at first he was as gentle as a toddler when touching a newborn baby. I helped set the pace for what was okay and what wasn’t.

“T, lemme see that ribbon.” I reached across the living room floor. I tried to snatch up the red ribbon before his hand flew out to take it.

“Let me curl the ribbon.” Something I had always done during Christmases. But it involved open scissors.

“Trevor, it’s fine…”

“Yeah but.. what if you cut yourself? Just teach me how to do it.”

Outside and inside of the bedroom, we set paces together.

“Should I- maybe…” Trevor shifted, causing me to groan. Worst time to ask questions is when you’re already in somebody.

“Trevor.. you don’t have to be so gentle.” I reached up to rest a hand on his forearm. “Why don’t I take the lead this time?” He relented and turned us over. He feared hurting me even when he didn’t do much.

“I’ll be fine, okay? Just pay attention. I promise I’ll tell you if it ever hurts, or if something is wrong.”

I’d always told Trevor that he did extremely well, but he wasn’t perfect. I didn’t expect him to be. And accidents happened.

“Babe?” Sometimes the rashes simply broke out over night.

“Trevor, Shh.” I tried to roll away from him, but when his fingers ghosted over the irritated skin on my face, I gasped at the feeling.

“Fuck- T!” I scolded, my eyes opened immediately.

He hated when he felt like he messed up. I hated when I scolded him for things he didn’t mean to do.

“…I told Jamie you weren’t feeling good anyway, so he went out without us.” Trevor had been rambling for a while, both of us in the bathroom doing our own thing. He was busy grabbing an extra roll of paper towels from the cabinet under the sink. I was trying to brush my teeth. I attempted to step out of the way when Trevor harshly pushed the cabinet door shut, but the corner skinned my calf anyway. I gasped, and managed to choke on toothpaste in the process.

“Oh shit! I’m so sorry!” Trevor was frantic all evening over my leg, apologizing over and over. After we got the arguably minimal amount of bleeding to stop, he still peeled back the bandages every so often to make sure everything was okay. I had to tell Trevor we were wasting bandaids.

The days when I felt absolutely disgusted with myself were the worst. I hadn’t lost all my hair, but it certainly thinned. And I hated looking in mirrors when my rashes got so bad that my skin would crack and bleed. Showers became hell. Trevor started to take them with me more often.

“It’s okay, baby.” He ran his hands through my hair, never commenting on the tiny strands that would remain on his hands long after he pulled them away. I stood tucked into his chest, arms folded up between us, fully enveloped by him.

My flawless boyfriend.

“I know it irritates.” Washing my body was the hardest on days when the rashes were all over. The dry skin never took well to the water, even if it provided a momentary relief.

There were days Trevor wouldn’t even bother with a washcloth. He would put the body wash on his hands and run them over my body from top to bottom. It made me cry. I would never understand how one emotion caused him to completely shift his personality around me.

Love was a powerful feeling, I suppose.

Love turned Trevor from a rambunctious loud, abrasive guy. Into a completely devoted and caring man. A gentle, expressive, and considerate man.

“We’re almost done,” he whispered as he ran his hands down my legs, kissing the patchy skin on my calves and ankles. I found the rashes were always the worst on my ankles after I wore shoes for long periods of time. The tongues of said shoes always rubbed my skin uncomfortably. I had to buy longer socks to help with that.

After Trevor finished lathering my body in wash, he’d trail his hands back up and all over. Sometimes I was lucky enough to sit on the lip of the tub while he shaved my legs. Times when my body hurt too bad to stand very long, or even bend over, he offered to help. Those moments he often found it easiest to make jokes and cheer me up.

“Haven’t mowed the lawn in a long time, eh?” He mumbled with a cheeky grin as he knelt in front of me, pulling my foot up onto his thigh while the other hand reached for my shaving cream. I giggled and ruffled his wet hair. Sometimes I found his comments embarrassing, but he was a guy. He was bound to find the weirdest statements amusing.

“I love you so much, T.” I whispered while his nose was scrunched and his brow was furrowed, face inches from my knee as he tried hard not to cut it with the razor. Hands that used to pinch and gently smack me when he was teasing or play fighting. Hands that used to throw me around like a rag doll after I challenged him to a wrestling match, now so light and tender. Like I was fine china.

Trevor also learned that dab-drying worked better for my skin than rubbing the towel all over my body after showers. It got the job of drying done, but it was far easier on my body.

I loved the tactic, but what I loved even more was the little sounds he’d make while he did it. They always made me laugh. Trevor always found a way to make our abnormal routines funny or cute. He always wanted to distract me from the fact that our lives were different.

After he’d finish drying my body, he’d whisk me away into the bedroom and how I felt usually dictated what we did next.

If I was tired, we’d take a nap. In pain, he’d give me one hell of a massage. The occasions I ended up horny? Trevor fixed that too.

And through Trevor’s learning, Jamie picked up on things too. When Trevor was on road trips and I was stuck with Jame, I learned I could lean on him. He was always one call away when I needed him. Even if it meant yelling across the house.

“Jamie!”

“I’m coming!” His thudding and rushed footsteps always endeared me.

“Hey!”

At times he’d find me on the floor.

“Hey, what happened?” He rushed to my side, helped me up slowly, and assured himself that I wasn’t injured.

“Guess I just can’t walk today…” I mumbled, embarrassed. The joint pain was always the worst to handle when I needed to be active.

“Alright.. what do you need to me to do?”

I found that Jamie was still on the ‘what do you needs?’ While Trevor already knew seconds in advance. And Trevor was far more confident with my illness than Jamie was.

He’d often text Trevor on my bad days to let him know. He’d also sit with me on the couch, never too touchy, not wanting to cross any lines. But when we’d sit at opposite ends -watching anything on the tv- occasionally, he’d pull my feet into his lap and gently rub them or my legs.

When Trevor would return from those long road trips, he’d always see me and tend to my needs and profess his love, before asking if I needed new pills, or if I needed him to stop by the store for anything. He’d been a domestic disaster before I got my diagnosis. Now, he was one of the most domestic guys I knew.

“This is it? Everything on this list?”

“All the groceries we need for the week. Yup.”

“Okay.. did you ask Jamie if he wanted anything?” I smiled and nodded. We were always taking care of Jamie.

“The store bought cookies are for him. And the purple Gatorade.”

“Okay. I’ll be back. Then I’m making dinner.”

Those words brought a huge smile to my face.

“Can’t wait, Trev.”

Sometimes I would go with him, but only on days when I felt on top of the world. Usually I tried to spend those days going out, but Trevor was always afraid I’d overdo it.

On those good days when he turned out to be right, he never told me so, or shook his head or laughed at me. He’d simply welcome me home with open arms and a sympathetic expression. Because he knew how much I missed my normality. How much I missed my old life.

And often times when I dwelled too much on that, he was always there.

“You’re beautiful. And I love you so much. And I’m happy with where we are right now. I’m happy to look after you, and love on you, and I’m happy you let me stand by you.”

His confessions were often spoken whispers in the darkness of our bedroom at night. Or on the rooftop. He hated when I went up there alone, but he still found me there from time to time.

He sat behind me, pulled me against his back between his legs, and wrapped his arms around me.

“We’re doing this together. I’ve been here from day one, and I’m not leaving now. I’m already in too deep.” He smiled. His breathy laugh would make me giggle.

“I’ve already seen too much.” He added with a playful touch of horror in his tone. I reached behind myself to slap his chest. I knew he was genuine. I knew he loved me. And I hoped he would never leave me. He always told me he was there until our last days on this earth. Until we both ceased to exist.

“I promise I’m sticking around. Me and Jambo. But mostly me.”

✾❀✾❀✾❀✾❀✾❀✾❀✾❀✾❀✾❀✾❀✾

[akunoniwa]

Prying

AN: i feel kinda evil bc the ending is sorta abrupt but this shit was getting too long babes... unless?

Synopsis: In which you and Dottore discuss pet names in conversation at first, putting them to good use not too long after...

Pairing: Il Dottore x fem!reader

Warnings: MDNI, Dottore finds your humiliation to be v irresistible..., use of 'master', 'daddy' (once! hear me out lmao), etc., mirror sex

WC: ~5.2k (she's long-winded, sorry, i think...)

You don’t understand the appeal.

As soon as you mentioned off-hand to Dottore that you didn’t understand why some thought it was hot to refer to their partners as ‘daddy’, he wouldn’t let you live it down. Not only did he find this addictingly humorous, but he also found himself curious… Perhaps you just never put it to proper use. Before you mentioned it, he didn’t have any opinions on the matter, let alone knowing it was a matter to begin with. But the fact that you were basically telling him that you would feel so degraded, so violated if you were to actually call someone this… He wanted to know, he wanted to weaponize this somehow, jokingly of course… He thinks.

“It’s just… Like, that’s how you address your father as a young child… Ya know?” You turned your head in the crux of your pillow towards him. You both lay in a leisurely type of bare, simply winding down from the day. Dottore had long set his book down, charmed by this topic.

“Well, wouldn’t it just… I’m not sure, darling… Some people are just so desperate to feel small, but I couldn’t tell you why or when it began. Sounds morbidly incestuous, to a degree.” You scanned his defined profile as he looked at the ceiling in thought, more committed to this investigation than you expected.

“Right? Like, why not ‘master’ or even… I dunno, someone not related to you?” You were waiting for this very reaction from him, a smirk pushing his fine smile lines to be visible.

“You never seem to call me any of those things…” Somehow the smirk dressed itself as a pout before your eyes.

“I– You never asked…? I don’t want to just randomly address you as something that might make you feel… Uncomfortable.” You must’ve forgotten who you were speaking to, a man who never seems to falter, a seasoned masochist. Even still, you stood your ground… In truth, the prospect of calling him anything other than his name simply embarrassed you, but you tried to keep that close to your chest in secret.

“I suppose you’re right.” He chose to respect your reasoning, “What if I asked?”

“Then I guess… If that’s what you like, I would do it.” You spoke matter-of-factly. In addition to the inherent embarrassment, you honestly found it hard to want to call anyone, any of those names, as you don’t usually give in that easily. This was something that only added fuel to his enduring fire, your playful resistance, the process of melting away your pride and dignity… All for him.

“You don’t even use my official title anymore. It’s almost funny, you’re the only one I like hearing my given name from, though usually, it’s only in here that I hear it.”

“Because you asked, you buffoon. You asked me to call you that because you told me you liked it.” You couldn’t keep a hold of your laughter any longer.

“Did I?” He remembers the day he did so, but found too much enjoyment in teasing you as he stroked his chin in faux thought.

“Maybe you should call me ‘master’.” Your giggles were running circles around the room.

“Would you like that?” He turned his head to you, his eye contact haunting you briefly, “Unlike a certain darling, I wouldn’t feel embarrassed to honor your filthy little wishes.”

“I said I would!”

It was his turn to chuckle, his deep voice resounding gently above you like its own duvet, “But you’d be reluctant, as you just informed me. Unfortunately, I find it amusing when you’re out of your comfort zone because I can tell when you’re just being your shy, bratty, self. You’d tell me otherwise.”

“Then we can both be masters.” Your laughter caved like a burst dam, dying at the thought of how ridiculous that’d be.

His face was hysterical, lips pressed so hard they’d lost their color as he tried not to let his laughter free, “I don’t know how that’d work… I don’t think we’d get anything done. Would we both be on our knees or just in a stalemate of power stances?”

“Stop– Stop talking.” The laughter was making your stomach tickle, unable to stop as he continued the hypothetical.

He rolled on his side to face you completely, “If we’re both standing in the power stance, how would one bend the other over their knee? It’s a logistical failure, darling.” His hand snuck over to gather a tear from your reddened face as your giggles died down. Perhaps being a buffoon wasn’t so bad if he got to hear your true laughter emanate from your infectious smile.

“I’d say we fight for the title, but… You’ve told me in various ways how you prefer to be the loser in that situation.”

“Try it,” you suggested, “Just try calling me master once, I wanna know how it feels.” A delicate, mischievous smile still lounged on your face.

An opening unlike any other, he’d overpower you with what you thought would be your pedestal. The sounds of blankets shifting flooded your ears as he moved to straddle over you, his powder blue hair hanging in ornate waves around his face.

“Is this not cheating?” You placed your hands on his blazing chest above you, your eyes lingering on how his arms flexed to hold himself over you.

“Only if you tell me it is… Master.” He didn’t hesitate, his eyes a deep, sappy scarlet, “You make the rules.” He referred to you like this so languidly, so heavily as he awaited what you might do next.

“I suppose I’ll allow it… I don’t feel very masterly when you’ve got me caged like this.” You took a liberty only the one ‘in command’ would, experimentally pinching his raised nipples for a reaction.

His long lashes fluttered as if a moth were shaking off dew. God, he wished you’d never stop, but he didn’t want to say that just yet, “Wouldn’t a master simply… Take control?”

He bent his arms to allow for his upper body to lean into you, his lips, taut once more in his trademark smirk, nearing your left ear, “Or… are you already stepping down?”

He felt your right hand slide down his front, anticipating your touch to collide with his exposed length, unfortunately the only thing he couldn’t conceal. He was easily aroused by you, though he was discovering… Toying with you like this, almost a perfect balance of submission was making his body rage for you. His willingness to even think someone had the higher ground was only because of you, finding that… Maybe he didn’t mind being controlled by you. But what really riled him was the thought of that pretty word leaving your mouth, so exasperated, barely able to think about anything beyond him.

Your hand sunk slowly against his searing, rigid body, not surprised to find he was already hard, his cock pronounced as it hung over you. You’d debated on touching him or not, but something about taking him into your hand was addicting… Just stroking his length, pulling on him deliberately from shaft to tip, as if you had him caught on a leash of your touch.

His voice, no matter the words or sounds that he used it for, was the key to your demise, deep with an alluring timbre. Quickly your mind was reminded, that he is the Second Harbinger… People find this man to be deplorable and menacing, his voice is only heard making barbaric commands or bickering with other deplorable, menacing Harbingers. All for good, supported, reason. But here, on top of his usual stony tone, grew flowers through the cracks of his demeanor, pollinated as you stroked him. His lips were so close… His shameless, sodden groans fall right into your ear. He was effortlessly always in control, knowing how susceptible you are to him.

“Don’t you want to tell me what to do, Master?” You wanted to punch him as he whined this into you, though not without defiance, his tongue shocking the helix of your ear, a trail of ice left behind. He wouldn’t dare allow himself to miss how your breath lurched in your throat.

You responded with a harsh enough pull on his cock to only remove your hand altogether, “You’re too good at this…” Not that you could mind too much. You pushed his chest in a way to urge him off of you, to which he easily obliged as you both switched places. His length pressed against his lower stomach as you sat over him to grind your pooled wetness along the underside.

“How long do you want to play pretend, darling?” You felt his hips gyrate up into you ever so slightly, “You clearly cannot get out of your mind, too busy wishing I was taking over it.”

You thought for a moment, wondering how you could catch him off guard… How you could make him lose himself, even for just a second. Your uncertainty was making it difficult, “How about…” You hesitantly removed yourself from him to retrieve a toy from your bedside drawer, laughing inwardly, almost nervously at his impending reaction.

He wouldn’t mind what you brought, his intrigue piqued as you revealed your futile efforts to best him in his own game. Your choosing a dildo could mean a few things in this situation… Did you want to fuck him? Was he to watch as you fucked yourself? He waited with bated breath, already missing your heat against him.

You returned to your position, a buzz of pleasure shooting through both of you at the continued contact. He’d do anything at this point, just wanting to see how far you’d go so he could obliterate you equally and more afterward.

After briefly taking it into your mouth, you dragged the wet tip along the center of his front, all the way up to his chin, “Would you suck cock for your master?”

A foreign feeling, not unlike pleasure, barrelled through him as he saw the look he was waiting for in your eyes, “You’re asking me?” Chills trickled through his body, all the way up through his nose as a pleased sigh.

“Be good for me… All you have to do is open your mouth…” You strung him along, though he was too turned on to care, parting his lips to allow you to slowly push into his mouth. He could feel your legs tensing on either side of him, your clit throbbing against his cock as he did so… This was so good.

“I wanna see your eyes.” You weren’t so much dominating him but rather he willingly entertained you by playing along, this is what he told himself anyway. Looking into your soul as his lips clung to the rubber so sweetly, his dextrous tongue working with more enthusiasm than you expected… You didn’t think he’d look so pretty doing this.

Once his spit generously coated the dildo, you dragged it from his mouth, depriving his twitching length of your sopping pussy as you sat between his opened legs. Opening your own, wide enough that he could see the lustrous stage you’d set. You easily slid the dildo, gleaming with his saliva, into your beckoning cunt as he was made to watch.

Well played, he thought… You looked so beautiful as your cunt clung to the dildo that was just in his mouth, your contorted face making it evident that you simply wanted to be filled… Your pace was slow with purpose as you imagined him fucking you like this… He wanted so badly to be inside you, to hear your abashed, small, voice call him dirty things. You swore you saw his cock jolt with impatience. 

His right hand lunged unhurriedly towards his sex, but you swatted it away, “You’re only allowed to watch.”

His lovely voice shaped as a threatening laugh met your ears. Threatening as in he’d let your antics wrack up to be used against you at the right time. His eyes were forced to shade themselves as he looked down over his toned torso, watching you intently. The only way you would be able to dominate him would be by his own hand… or cock. You had so many opportunities to learn from his example, though your mind was probably checked out at that point.

His movements to resist your words ceased, watching as you increased the pace of your self-assault, glorious sounds of your wetness snapping into his ears. His lower lip tucked between his teeth, your left hand playing mindlessly at the soft skin of his upper thigh… He couldn’t help but feel the fault lines of his heart threaten to burst at the lovely sight before him. It felt like his gaze alone was propelling your hand, the tension was caustic and heavy.

You brought yourself to the edge of your release, movements shaky as you caged over him like he’d done to you before. You only had to bring the toy to his lips for him to gladly collect your sweet, his moans, deeper than the Chasm, almost infusing with it as he did. He loved how your eyes branded him as you watched… Maybe you were learning something after all… How to adeptly destroy him, one glance at a time.

Setting the dildo aside, at this point, you just wanted to kiss him. His lips were glossed with a brew of spit and cum, but that only made it more enticing. Like leaves brushing against each other in a gentle breeze, your lips found his. His whole body felt particularly sensitive, your nips at his lips almost a tickle as you teased him. That is, until he captured your face between his hands, lifting his head to press up into you. It felt like the kiss had been placed into a kiln, searing and intense as he was exposing how much he just needed to have you. His heart attached to yours like jumper cables, reinventing what yearning felt like as his tongue swam against yours, disregarding aesthetics and grace.

You both were only left more of a mess than before. As you parted, briefly a salty thread of combined spit, like a spider web, hung between your lips before snapping silently.

His hands pressed down along your curves as if shaping clay, pausing at your waist. Your arms were growing tired, and you couldn’t keep your mind off the gravitational pull of your throbbing cunt, knowing how his cock merely sat in wait. You wanted to lay on his chest… For some reason, his grin only grew.

“Was it worth it? Do you feel transformed, master?” He batted at you with his words like a cat playing with its prey, knowing it was his turn, whether you decided that or not.

“You did well, darling.” You commented in a voice that mocked his own, causing you both to laugh in unison for the second time. Your head dropped in a forfeit as he squeezed your sides.

“Making fun of me, now… I see.” He clicked his tongue, returning to the program that he would see through to the end, “Go stand by the stool in front of the mirror.” He ordered as his hands dropped in time with a sensation of excitement in your stomach, starting with his interpretation of this act.

You obeyed, the kinetic flow of wanting to please leading you to where he directed. You were made to observe your naked body, though distracted when he approached from behind and sat beside you on the stool, “I want you to lay over me, your pretty ass perked for me.”

He could see a familiar gleam in your eyes that sent him universal, knowing you were following his every word like footsteps in snow. Bridged over his legs, his right hand found your plump ass as if it were a magnet, caressing your supple skin. You knew what his intentions were, though, bracing for how and when he’d deliver his first blow.

“Do you truly think, darling… That you’d be able to overpower me without me letting you?”

Whatever your answer was, he wanted to feel the recoil regardless, “You’d just tell me your submission was ‘playing along’ even if I did.”

His hand lifted but a few inches to collide with your ass cheek, gathering your flesh in his hand like a duvet, “It’s against your nature...”

You reeled in how he assumed his harsh demeanor so effortlessly, “Do you think the other Harbingers know you’d clearly bow to my will under your guise of controlling the uncontrollable?”

This clap to your ass felt more personal, making you wince as a squeak snuck out of your throat, “I don’t give a single fuck about those insolent boors. I’d not admit your curiosity in them, though you know I’ll just hit you harder.” Your eyes locked on his own in the mirror as he had well already caught onto your antics.

“So it goes… Perhaps I do wonder about them.” You pushed the topic over the cliff, the punishment he’d give could only really be a reward.

He tried to not allow his heart to be swayed by your taunts, “You think they aren’t familiar with your pathetic moans coming from my office?”

“If they’re anything like you, that’d only intrigue them further, I would think…”

Smack.

This time you gave him a moan of rejoice, growing addicted to the sting, his hand falling over the crest of your ass to explore your cunt. Your wetness overflowed to coat your clit as it threatened to drip, loving his aggression.

“Hmm… I’ve barely grazed your desperate cunt until now, and it seems you’re trying to insinuate something foolish. Then tell me, my sweet, insatiable, darling, what or who is it that you want?” His middle and ring fingers pressed into your soaked, petal-like lips, coaxing you to answer. 

You were debating… Should you weaponize another man’s name to provoke him… It feels like foul play, as you really had eyes for no other madman but himself, he knows this well. But what if…

“You’re always hanging around that opulent-looking one with glasses… Pantalone, was it?” You chose to improvise listlessly with war anyway.

He gritted his teeth, eyes diverting away from you for the first time. He knew you were just trying to play the cards you had, God, he knew. But something inside could not prevent the inherent, possessive tendencies from making some kind of appearance. Of all the Harbingers, of course you’d choose Pantalone as your mode of combat. He’s such a duplicitous excuse of a man.

His two fingers plunged into your hole, he watched as the muscles in your back tensed, feeling your front wriggle over his legs, “I see how he looks at you, darling. He is so acquainted with wealth, he’s used to having everything available to him… He sees you with me and knows his ability to be conscious of his own existence will be compromised if he even thinks about touching you.”

His hand retracted to instead give your weeping clit a generous slap, the wetness enhancing the sound, then sinking back into you. His lithe fingers felt so dizzying as they paced against your spongy walls, how could you think of anything but that?

“Really, I brought it up because the thought of them seeing you like this turned me on, not because I want to fuck them.”

“Invariably, if they somehow saw me like this, you’d be the only logical cause… Look in the mirror, look at yourself.” His free hand slid under your face to push your cheek in the mirror’s direction, “Who are you bent over so pitifully for right now? It almost sounds as if you’d like an audience…” He noted where your eyes were as you followed his roaming hand at your backside, “Tell me.” He demanded, swatting your ass once more. He couldn’t chain back the grin on his face, waiting to see which title you’d attempt to christen him with.

You weren’t about to give in to what he wanted most, your pure humiliation…, so you opted to at least repay him equally, “You, Zandik… Master.”

“Really…” His fingers returned to your sopping cunt, more so as a reminder rather than a means of pleasure, “I think you know what I want to hear… I’ll give you another chance.”

Your face cringed slightly, though that wasn’t enough to disguise the way your hole clenched around his stilled fingers at the thought, “Fuck…”

He hunched down to ensure his words were clear, “You brought this up… It was eating away at your mind so badly that you thought it was safe to bring it up to me? It’s at the tip of your little tongue, darling… Your face is such a tender shade of red…” His hand pumped slowly into you, as if to lure it out of you with his feigned compassion, “Tell me, pretty baby, whose fingers are inside you right now.”

Your eyes looked to the supposed heavens for a moment, “I hate you.”

He scoffed sharply, “That sounds more in character… You’d be such a contemptuous little brat for me…” He gathered your hair haphazardly, pulling your head upwards, somehow amplifying his ministrations, “Go on, who’s got you bent at his will.” His tone was low though infected with his shit-eating grin.

“Fine– You… Daddy.” Your voice had almost entirely checked out. You knew he wouldn’t let you leave this position until you did so.

He laughed a riot right into your ear, though hissed like the snake he is afterward at the sheer pleasure of winning, maintaining his pace, “You look as if you could hurl, darling, but I don’t think I’ve felt your cute cunt clench around me quite so hard… You’re dripping down my fingers, I ought to make you clean this mess up.”

You whined as he increased his pace, egging you on, “That’s right… So fucking tight…”

In actuality, he didn’t care much for the pet name but rather just your adorable embarrassment, so he decided he wasn’t convinced, “Why not embrace it a little more…” Getting you close to the edge, retreating his hand only to prod at your lips, “Why not taste your humiliation, since you hate calling me ‘daddy’ so much? Hmm?”

You were shivering as the denied orgasm left you high, though not so much dry, taking his slender fingers into your mouth. Your tongue weaved between them so as to clean them completely, his eyes sharp, jabbing into your face as he watched. That feeling again, as if an hourglass had been flipped, all the blood rushed to his core as he fucked your mouth with his hand. When he was satisfied with your work, he slowly dragged his soaked fingers along your back to trace back down. You shook at the chilling trail it left.

“Hmm,” There was an arrogant triumph to his voiced sigh, “So sensitive, too… It drives me crazy, darling.” He moved to grip your waist, urging you off of him, “I wonder… Would you suck cock for your master?” His words wagged their fingers in your ears as he adjusted you to sit on your heels before him.

“And you say I talk shit?” You ran your hands flush up his parted thighs, observing how cute his folded tummy looked as he sat, watching you. His faint happy trail, the glazed plains of his pale chest in contrast to his florid, angular face. For a moment, he said not a word, realizing how desperately he required your touch, in any capacity. His cock leaned heavily to the side, as if in its last attempt of an exhausted taunt for your lips. Your hands closed in on him, his eyes fluttering as they gently pulled at his flushed length.

“I love it when you moan for me…” You mentioned as an aside before taking his swollen tip between your velveteen lips. His head fell back, and a groan, like a smoke ring, hovered to the ceiling.

His fingertips pushed their way through your hair, though with no other intent but seemingly to distract himself from losing himself too soon. He played with your hair almost domestically, petting you along as you took as much of his throbbing cock as you could. You could tell he so badly wanted to buck into your mouth, your hands gripping him at the pivot of his thighs and hips as he writhed… You wished he’d let you in on this kind of raw desperation more often, as this version of him played in your mind so sweetly.

“Such a good girl for me, fuck.” He’d never called you that before, but the sensation it conveyed in your brain felt as if your soul had fallen out of the window of your body. He had you where you couldn’t refute it, making you swallow that, too, without resistance, “I knew you’d like that…” He laughed wickedly despite his exasperated state, and it felt so good, “My good girl…” He almost sang it down to you the second time, making your chest waver, coasting your hands upwards against his tense torso. He untangled his hands from your hair, easily blanketing yours against his waist, effectively lulled by the lush of your touch.

His fingertips dragged down the stretch of your arms, over the horizon of your shoulders to round back to your face, causing you to pause in wait. Your eyes lazily gravitated up to his own, his face was tipped as he peered over his nose in his lecherous way, “Come here, darling, where you belong…”

Upon your standing, he twisted you around between his hands to face away from him, then pulled down at your hips to finally lower your pliant, sobbing cunt onto him. The friction of his firm chest against your back alone was tantalizing enough, his hot breath steaming your skin from behind making your body slack in his grasp. A hand left your side, gripping his length to align himself. The initial pleasure of his tip making contact with the magma that was your arousal against him was suffocating, your eyes heavy with refined lust, though you couldn’t tear them away. He lowered you onto his cock at a meticulous speed, so dreadfully slow, you swear you could feel his pulse. His groan of contagious desire shot through your spine as you watched him disappear inside you as he left you to sit completely full of him for his own amusement.

“Look at you, pretty darling, how you like to watch yourself take my cock so beautifully.” His wet lips played on your shoulder blade to leaf between his words, “How I wish this very image were branded into my mind…” Moving towards the crook of your neck, your head inadvertently swayed to the side to allow access, his hands forcing your hips to grind in his lap. His teeth brushed over the sensitive base of your neck, your shoulders raising as he teased your skin. You felt as if you were losing your grip on a certain aspect of consciousness, the way his thick length stirred inside you, brushing and shocking every nerve.

“Keep moving just like that…” He instructed in a whisper as his hands left to tend to your breasts, adding yet another layer of dizziness as he pinched and kneaded. He loved the way the soft skin of your ass brushed against his inner thighs, your cunt tied and bowed around his shaft so perfectly. He’d pause at your neck here and there to peek at your face, a delirious focus on maintaining your movements… Your precious sounds that now flowed shamelessly from your lips, he truly could never get enough of you.

You tried to lift yourself, needing to be properly rearranged from the inside out, but he halted your attempt, unraveling a whine, “I know, I know… My good girl has been working so hard…” His eyes fixated on how your slick literally overflowed, trickling down to his balls in a lewd stream. How you squeezed around him upon that name… It was too much for him to bear, “You really do like that, huh darling?”

“Mmhm…,” is all you could manage, your thighs twitching impatiently, an indescribable feeling winding up your body, “God, please just let me move.”

“I didn’t even have to ask you to beg, you sorry little thing.” He guided you to lift, your vision flickering at the sheer strength of the awaited friction, “Tell me more… How much do you want me to fucking destroy you?”

You gave in to his game, unable to resist, “So badly, Zandik, please.”

Finally, your hole just barely reached the precipice of his raging cock, holding you there, “I could make you cum just like this, giving you only what you barely need as you wished I’d fuck you right– Please what?”

“Fuck… Please, please fuck me, I need your cock… Please.” You squirmed as your voice was hoarse and almost unfamiliar to even yourself as you pleaded.

He slammed you down onto him easily, given how soaked you were, hardly able to wait himself, “When you’re this wet, I would think my cock is the only thing you need.” He talked both you and himself into oblivion, sticky slick between both his and your thighs accentuating the frantic collision of your bodies. His fingers were soldered to your waist, gripping you as he moved your body at his pace, watching as your breasts flailed rhythmically in his thrusts’ wake. He wished there was a way to consume the buttery noises you were making on top of him as his own bled into them.

You adored how his lips hung open, how his brows tensed upward as he exhibited both complete focus and abandonment, his mind devoted only to the way he fucked you in this moment. You found him infuriatingly handsome as it is, but to see him so breathless, his vast vocabulary reduced to exclusively vile taunts, he was utterly ethereal like this.

His lips curled up as you eyed him so intensely, forcing you off of him, the sudden vacancy in your cunt making you want to scream. He stood behind you, feeling up your front as he did so, “I can’t describe the feeling I get when you look at me like that, darling…” He turned you to face him, hastily stealing your lips for a kiss that dug into your chest like his nails did your back as he searched your skin hungrily. 

Upon stopping, he moved to hold your chin in place, your face displayed in his hand like a gemstone gleaming in the prongs of a ring. His swollen lips were still close, his crimson eyes had a glow to them, almost, cascading a dense shadow of need over your features, “However I may call you, you will most importantly, always, be mine. …And I hope… I will always be yours, darling.”

[inkluvs]

fields of white clover

knight! steve harrington x fem!princess!reader

content warnings: time period discrepancies. cinderella reference kinda. royal au. steve is literally obsessed with you. hopper as a father figure. this is pretty much just world building.

summary: steve catches sight of you at a ceremony and finds you fascinating <3

a/n: posted 2 months or so ago originally (copy and pasting the original a/n bcos most of it still applies), i wanna thank @maddipoof for being my cheerleader n figuring out all of my incoherant thought with their super special decoder abilities <3 also @livingintheupsidedown ; @crappymixtape ; @ghostlyfleur ; @forevermoreharrington ; @theemporium ; and @beezywriting since they all read bits of it i was unsure about <3 also this is just the set up for future stuff and nothing really happens <3 it's just steeb being sorta head over heels for u <3

part one // series masterlist // taglist

You didn’t quite understand what you were doing with hundreds of nobles and servants around you. You knew what it was, of course, a ceremony; the kind you were required to be at to prepare you for your future, but you'd been spared any more details. It was funny, the way you’d been told that your presence was of the utmost importance this time in particular and still you had been given no details on why you had to be there, nor were you given details on why you couldn't sit in your regular seat. 

You normally wouldn’t mind it, the extent to which you’d been kept in the dark, but it would be helpful to know why there were so many pairs of leering eyes, staring at you like they were waiting for you to mess up. 

The majority of the time you had a choice. Whether or not you wanted to attend had always been an opportunity you'd chosen to take every time it had been offered. So much so that despite never having been taught about the process of swearing fealty in detail until you were fifteen, you’d been able to recite the oath at any given moment since the age of ten. 

Using your hand to shield your eyes from the sunlight, you noticed a man a couple of meters from you doing the same. He was tall, his hair a honey blonde in the sunlight. Something about him made him look ethereal despite not being able to see the details of his face. The way the light was reflecting off the metal of his armor and towards you, the direction shifting ever so slightly when he turned his torso gave him a sort of glow. There was a dull ache in the back of Steve's eyes. The throbbing only increased as he squinted, his eyelashes fluttering as he looked around. 

The way his curiosity seemed to heighten when he caught sight of you was similar to that of a child when they're told not to do something. It was the way he knew he shouldn't stare, that somebody would reprimand him later, but he couldn't help but think that there was something off about you. He didn’t know how he came to that conclusion, perhaps it was how out of place yet well-adjusted to your surroundings you seemed. It seemed like you’d done this before, so much so that you were bored. 

Steve couldn't if your uninterest intrigued him or offended him, maybe it was both, the irritation leading him to find curiosity in your nonchalance. He also couldn't tell why his train of thought was leading him there, maybe he was just as uninterested and you'd been the first person to openly display it, or maybe he simply found you that captivating. Something about the way you presented yourself was inherently enchanting to him. Suddenly, Steve from his thoughts, the whistle of the wind was no longer the only thing he could hear as heat rose to his cheeks.   

“Something catch your eye?” a familiar voice quipped. Steve shook his head quickly before shifting his attention to his surroundings, almost disoriented before he remembered where he was and what he’d been doing. He looked back to see who’d asked only to realize it was the face of a man he’d half recognized, not quite sure of his name. He turned back to you intending to only look for a second, but once again he ended up staring. The fact that you could so easily immerse him in you, the thoughts circling his mind of things unfamiliar and foreign to him, without even speaking to him was terrifying.  

Somehow, Steve composed himself enough to notice the king’s attempt to gather everybody's attention. In a matter of minutes, everybody had quieted down, waiting for the king to speak as the wind bit at their skin.   

The king took his stance next to you, standing tall above the crowd on the dais with the queen on his arm. He nodded once to the herald and looked across the crowd. The same routine as every ceremony.   

“My beloved subjects,” but you were new, “I am honored by your service and fealty. There is no prouder king than I, standing before you.” A lady in waiting possibly, “Time and again you have shown your strength, honor, and allegiance to your king, your royal family, and your country. You have my endless gratitude.” No, you’re too beautiful for a lady in waiting.

“But I would be doing us all a great disservice if I did not extend my thanks to my daughter,” a duchess, maybe, “The princess.” The king’s words echoed in the pavilion as the crowd muttered with uncertainty. He held his hand out to you, and you stepped forward hesitantly.

She’s the princess.

“The relentless devotion she has shown to our country and our people is beyond words. There is no greater love than that of your princess to her kingdom. I am certain she will be a most beloved queen, and as that time draws nearer, as does her coronation. Your next pledge shall be not only to me as your king but to her as your crown princess as well. I know you will all do well to honor your allegiance to her as she shall to you.”  

Everything seemed to come together in his mind at once, why you had looked so bored and why you struck him as different than anybody he’d ever met before. Now that he thought about it, you must’ve been to at least twenty of these ceremonies, each with a similar if not exactly the same speech and the same people. As much as he hated to admit it, Steve felt a stab of pity for you. He was only able to continuously attend such events since he had a choice, at least the majority of the time. And though he would never say it, out loud he still didn’t always enjoy every one he’d been to.    

And suddenly he was moving forward. He’d found himself lost in thought yet again, unaware of the fact that he'd been moving till somebody behind him bumped into him. His boots suddenly felt tight against the sole of his feet, his legs stiff as he fought the urge to turn around and leave. He wouldn’t do it of course, but somehow the thought of getting closer to you made him jittery. He flexed his palm before squeezing it into a fist, repeating the motion until his muscles became less tense.   

Steve couldn’t remember when he’d started this habit of sorts, just that it was now second nature to him, subconsciously flexing his hand and then squeezing it into a fist when he was trying to control himself or occasionally when he needed to focus. He was doing the latter now, still repeating the action as the leather heel of his boots sunk into the grass, the dirt muddy from rain the previous night. He stopped walking just as abruptly as he’d started, now a few inches from the dais.     

Steve looked at you again, except this time he was close enough to notice the slight pucker in your brow. The sunlight was no longer obstructing his vision as he saw you instinctively straighten your back with the weight of thousands of leering eyes. The pucker in your brow seemed to ease as the crowd dispersed, your eyes raking over the crowd until they caught sight of him staring back at you. Your lips twitched as you considered how you should respond before you decided on simply smiling at him. Steve mirrored your expression, and he felt a sudden sense of relief surging through him at your lack of reaction. It took him a moment to realize you were motioning him to come closer, and another minute for him to work up the courage to do so.  

You slowly lowered yourself off of the dais, praying that nobody was paying enough attention to you to notice before you landed on the ground. The grass crunched under your feet and you. Steve couldn’t tell how but you were more captivating up close. His eyes strayed to the curve of your lips, tracing the soft dip of your waist apparent in your kirtle.  

And suddenly, in a whirlwind of motion, you were gone. Steve looked around for the deep maroon of your dress, turning around until he noticed a scrap of the fabric left behind on the dais. He looked to his left and then his right before carefully pulling the cloth from the nail it had gotten caught on. Looping it around his wrist once, he tied a knot, just tight enough that it wouldn’t slip off. 

It wasn’t wrong, right? He intended to give it back to you, though he didn’t have the slightest clue when that was.  

- 

Steve’s back ached when he woke up. He didn’t know why, and he also didn’t know when he’d gotten back to his bed, but that was something to think about later. Instead, he was worrying about what he’d do with the shred of your dress, which was still on his wrist despite his tendency to move around in his sleep. 

“Are you up yet?” a familiar voice pierced through the momentary veil of silence in the manor. He sat up, fiddling with the fabric in an unsuccessful attempt to undo the knot he’d tied the previous day. Hopper saw the deep maroon of the fabric before he could hide it and Steve sucked in a breath through his teeth, waiting for his response. 

“How did you get that?” he paused. Steve opened his mouth to reply but Hopper's eyes went wide as he cut the boy off, “Tell me you didn’t steal it.” 

Steve shook his head almost instantly, appalled that the thought had even crossed the man's mind. Hopper seemed to deflate with relief. 

“I found it,” he explained vaguely. Hopper held back a laugh at the boy's unclear clarification.

“Yeah?” Steve nodded, “who’s is it?” 

And suddenly, over two decades' worth of barriers Steve had built around his vulnerability fell all at once. He looked at Hopper like a guilty little boy, like he’d accidentally dropped and shattered his mother's vase and he’d been caught near the scene. He looked at Hopper like he was scared of his potential response. The intensity of his gaze softened at the boy’s silence. He somehow seemed to understand Steve’s sensitivity regarding the subject.

“I found it on the edge of the dais,” he wasn’t technically lying. 

“You still aren’t answering my question,” Hopper said quietly. 

“You won’t be mad?” the man shook his head earnestly

“I found it at the ceremony yesterday,” Steve paused, thinking over his next words, “It’s from the princess’s dress, got torn on a screw” 

Somehow, when the words finally started falling from his tongue, they wouldn’t stop or slow down, the sentences he strung together becoming more rushed and incoherent with each passing one, the words toppling on top of one another and slurring in his throat as he recalled what had happened the previous day. 

“You should’ve seen her,” he trailed off, his eyes staring off into space as he smiled all fond. Hopper smiled at the boy’s lovesick demeanor, an odd sense of pride filling him with Steve’s vulnerability. It wasn't often that he opened up, so Hopper made sure to recognize it when he did.

“Are you going to give it back?” he prodded gently. Steve nodded.

“Next time I see her, yeah,” he replied, frowning as he did so. Steve hated the uncertainty of it all, the fact that he didn’t know when he’d see you next, or that he didn’t know what you wanted to say to him the previous day. He detested the spontaneity of it and the idea that he didn’t know the next time he’d bump into you, having been used to rigid rules and calculated decisions, yet Steve thought he could get used to it for you.

[painted-bees]

aw yay! Here's a bunch more OC questions sent my way by @wulff20ko <3

promt description: Questions about two of your original characters about their relationship. Should work for friends/lovers/coworkers/enemies/etc, maybe not so much for family, but you're welcome to try!

Answering all of these for Margie and Raf again lmao

1) How did they meet?

Like this!

2) How long have these two characters known each other? 

 Since 2008..! I think the last piece of Hi-Note writing that currently exists takes place in 2014. So–six years over the span of their story so far.

3) What were their first impressions of each other? How does that compare to their impressions of each other now?

 Raf thought Margie was a bit strange and ditzy, and she rubbed him as a pathological humble-bragger at first–which was…really unattractive to him lmfao. He initially kinda pulled at that thread in the interest of seeing the whole thing quickly unravel only to discover that she’s legitimately some manner of undiscovered genius who has absolutely no idea just how incredible she is.

  Margie thought Raf was a charismatic player “says that to all the girls” sort–with some shade of mental illness that made it all feel a little too uncanny to be fully effective. She was technically right, but quite differently from what she initially thought lmao.

  Nowadays, Raf knows Margie is his superior in several avenues; she’s a smarter, faster learner, an adaptable problem solver, a far more brilliant musician, and the most genuine, kindest, patient person he’s ever known.

  And Margie knows now that the guy she met in the train station was a fictional character that Raf employed to stand between himself and the threat of forming meaningful relationships. The real Raf is a quiet, anxious, isolated pessimist buoyed by the hope that he isn’t the only person in the world who wants to do well by others.

3) How would they describe each other if asked? Physically? In personality?

  Raf: “Margie? She’s brilliant, she’s sweet. You won’t meet a more incredible person.”

  Margie: “Raf’s a huge dork with a dorkier smirk and you just kinda gotta treat him like a cat if you want to make a good impression on him. Y’know like–just sorta ignore him, let him come to you first.”

4) Do they get along? Why or why not?

( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

5) Do they have any shared interests/hobbies? Do they ever do these hobbies together?

 Pretty much most things, these days. Music, walks, rock flipping at low tide… If Margie does anything, she prefers doing them with him. Good experiences are best shared!

6) How often do they see each other? Where do they usually meet?

  Well, initially it was just every Thursday for jam sessions. And then Raf started inviting Margie to crash at his place. Now they live and work together.

7) How do they communicate with each other? Are there any recurring phrases or gestures unique to their relationship?

  Their relationship only exists as it does because of how they communicate with each other. They’ve developed a lot of little shorthand gestures to indicate to one another that things are good and there’s nothing to worry about, such as here. But there are also clear signals they provide when one needs some space or time alone, or if hugs are in order, and other such things. They’ve established a baseline understanding that when they are mad, it is never at each other–and have agreed not to assume that just because one of them is upset, it’s because they’re upset at the other specifically. The person who is upset will always take the time to explain what upset them, once they are able to properly articulate it. Until then, the priority is making sure they get the space or whatever they need to calm down and process what they’re feeling and why.   If they were unable to establish free and easy modes of communication with one another, where they don’t put each other on trial, on the spot to immediately defend their behaviour in the heat of a moment, but give each other the space and grace to process and discuss things under calmer, less volatile circumstances, the wheels would fall off this relationship real quickly, real dramatically. 

8) What is one quality they have in common?

  They love music! They love playing music–together!

9) What is one major difference between them?

  Margie is a very rosy optimist, and Raf is a very calculating pessimist. 

10) Does one act as a narrative foil to the other? How so?

  Yeah, It’s very puppy and cat. Raf’s long established career and jaded burnout vs Margie’s nascent/struggling career and bright-eyed, passionate energy. Margie’s willingness to trust and believe the best in people, vs Raf’s pathological mistrust/suspicion and the constant threats he sees hidden in the actions and words of all those around him. Margie’s ability to bounce back from failures and adapt to challenges–it’s all a learning process for her, vs Raf's stubborn rigidity and unwillingness to compromise–failure is devastating for him. Raf helps Margie keep her feet on her ground so that she can make more purposeful strides towards her goals. Margie helps drag Raf out of his paralyzing anxiety spirals, and keeps his creeping cynicism at bay.

11) Do they have any affection for each other? How do they show it?

( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

12) Do they have any disdain/contempt for each other? How do they show it?

oooh…Raf, at his worst, can feel quite overwhelmed with resentment towards Margie for how much sway she has over his feelings of worth and wellbeing. At times when he feels like she fails to understand how her actions can dictate his moods, and fails to behave in a manner sensitive to this [it’s very mercurial and unpredictable what exactly this entails–what sets him off], it’s really tempting–and it feels wholly just–to lash out just to make her feel a fraction of the discomfort/hurt he’s feeling, as way of some kind of punishment. Instead, he gets really quiet and withdrawn, sometimes for a week or two. Margie understands this as “mental health is happening at him” and takes care to stay well out of his way until he’s wrestled control of his narratives again. 

Margie’s got nothing but love in her heart for Raf.

13) Do they share the same goals in life?

  Yeah! They just wanna be comfy, and loved, and make good music together. Everything to do and build together is towards that shared goal.

14) Do they trust each other? Why or why not?

  They do.   Margie’s a given, she trusts everyone.

  Raf, though, has vacillated pretty wildly between wanting to trust her by trying to brute force fake that trust until he believed it–and not trusting her at all. However, the morning she basically returned from the dead to come shambling back home to him in one piece–cemented his trust in her. He thought she had died and, in her concussed state, she was just sorry that she took so long to get back, and wanted to know if they can still play music together. He still has hiccups and moments of panic about the honesty of her relationship with him and such–but so long as he can recall the sheer relief he felt when he held her, and the absolute heartbreak she delivered to him thereafter by way of concussed murmerings–it’s irrefutable to him that she loves him very dearly and that she’ll always be there. Come hell or literal high-water.

15) Is one of them keeping secrets from the other? Why? How would they react if the secret was revealed?

  Not anymore, no.   Initially, Raf had only explained to Margie that he had PTSD. All of his paranoid behaviours and such were swept under that as their explanation. Once things had become quite a bit more serious between the two of them, Raf’s Uncle asserted that Margie was eventually gonna have to know about and understand the challenges of his paranoid personality disorder. And after some gentle coaxing about that, Raf finally relented to ask his uncle to talk to Margie about it for him–because if it was left to Raf to do it himself, it wouldn’t…go well, if it ever happened at all.

  Margie had dated a guy with schizophrenia during her time in Winnipeg, and so there wasn’t really a big scary stigma that needed to be dispelled. The schizophrenia of her previous relationship had been such a non-issue compared to what she otherwise might have expected, that it maybe gave her the idea that Raf’s PD would similarly pose no major challenges. Eehhhh…she was a little off base with that assumption, but she got up to speed on all of it eventually, and it’s mostly fine. At the very least, it didn’t change her opinion of Raf at all, and any drama that accompanied the reveal was hosted exclusively in Raf’s poor brain. 

16) Are they keeping a secret together? How do they feel about that?

  Yeah lmao Raf’s PD is no one’s business but their own. Of the people still alive, Margie, Nels, and his therapist (and Tess) are the only people who are aware of Raf’s PD. The rest of the guys at Hi-Note know he has PTSD, but that’s it. 

17) Do they view their relationship as temporary or permanent?

  Use to be temporary, until the temporary part of their relationship was almost exercised–and now it’s as permanent as a relationship can be lmao

18) Are they satisfied with their relationship? Do they wish they were closer/more distant?

  There’s always things they are working towards together, but they’re both very happy with their relationship, generally.

19) What is their best memory together?

  Oh nooo there’s so much lmfao. I think they both look back on their first year in Cortes Island very very fondly–as kind of a turning point where their lives together became a pretty ironclad thing. It was forged in fire the entire year prior, and they stuck it through–and suddenly things were easy and calm and nice again, and it just…strengthened everything quite beautifully. 

20) What is their worst memory together?

That whooole year before they arrived in Cortes Island lmao. Uncle Bills death and dealing with his estate was the most difficult test their relationship will even endure, I think.

21) When were they the most vulnerable with each other?

  Hm, this is hard, they’re vulnerable with each other pretty well all the time. Again though, the most vulnerable moments were probably during that year of grieving and dealing with Bill’s estate. Raf had basically hit a melting point and was largely incapacitated for much of the latter half, and it culminated with Margie admitting she couldn’t take care of things like he needed her to. I think they both thought the other was gonna leave, because things had stopped being fun and enjoyable, and they couldn’t carry each other out of it or provide what the other person obviously needed. Raf was just waiting for Margie to get sick and tired enough to walk, but Margie was wrecking herself on the terror that he would feel irreparably let down by her if she failed to adequately carry his burden for him when he needed her the most. In the end, Margie’s breakdown and her fear of not being and doing enough for him is what galvanized Raf to get his shit together just enough to put some real, physical distance between them and all the garbage that had piled up on them. A move that Margie had suggested months earlier, but Raf had been too stubborn/overwhelmed to properly consider at the time.

22) Do they have any mutual friends? Mutual enemies?

 All of Raf’s friends are Margie’s friends (he only really has two aside from her and Tess)–but not all of Margie’s friends are Raf’s friends. No mutual enemies, either. Solely because Margie doesn’t have anyone she’d describe as an enemy haha. Maybe Raf’s mom…but Margie has never met her, so it feels weird. She greatly dislikes everything she’s heard about the woman, though.

23) How do these two interact with each other in public versus in private?

 In public, you might think they’re just really close friends. Margie and Raf don’t engage in any explicitly romantic displays of affection in public–largely because Raf is very uncomfortable about it.

 In private, they’re in each other’s space a lot of the time, and fill silences with the occasional sappy call-and-responses that are all some shade of “guess what?” “what?” “I love you.” “Woah, I love you too–weird!” Sometimes the words they string together to carry this sentiment between each other are absolute nonsense…but they know what it means. They’re also just very content to be in the same room together, quietly doing their own thing and otherwise ignoring each other in perfect comfort.

24) If a stranger saw them together, how would they describe their relationship?

 “They seem like really good friends! They’re working together quite well!”

25) How would these characters react to being stuck in a small room with each other?

  Stuck? Well…They’d try to figure out what the deal is. And if it’s like…a busted elevator situation or something, Raf wouldn’t pause for levity until the situation was under control. But once it’s just a matter of waiting for things to become unstuck again, He and Margie would sit in each other's space and pass the time musing and joking to one another. They just enjoy each other’s company, generally.

26) How far would they go for each other? Would they risk their own lives for each other? 

  Margie would crawl out of Davy Jones's coldest locker for Raf lmao

  Raf would walk into oncoming traffic for Margie.

  But more than that, both of them would endeavor to live their healthiest, happiest lives for each other.

[northwest-cryptid]

I don't think I can really explain this without sounding like some elitist prick to someone out there, and that's not the intention or the thought process at all; but the thing is I really do want to like Limbus Company. However I've not been able to bring myself to do so for a lot of reasons.

Look this is gonna be a long one because I'm gonna keep it 100% with you, I have been having a LOT of thoughts about how we're never getting another game like Lob Corp; or even characters who can commit to their most surface level key design features.

I know I've sorta touched on this in the past, and every time I do I get anons by the dozens; (anon is turned off before anyone tries) telling me to kill myself or that I'm stupid and wrong. Which like, look I get it, but you need to understand that a jab at Project Moon and Limbus is not a jab at YOU.

Project Moon used to be one of my favorite game companies, I am the self proclaimed "#1 Project Moon Fan" so you gotta understand that I'm coming at this from a perspective of love for the series as a whole.

I think Limbus fundamentally fumbles the whole bag when it comes to what it could have been vs what it is. That's not to say it's entirely garbage or something. I'm not just going to say everything everyone likes about Limbus is absolute dogwater bullshit.

However as I've said before I can't shake the feeling that what I see when I look at Limbus is like a parody of what it wants to be. It's a husk wearing the corpse of Lob Corp like a cheap costume. Does it have some cool characters? Absolutely; yea I love seeing all the cool EGO designs and such, shame that so many of them cost real money and are still a gamble since many of them reveal things about the characters.

Which like, hey that's a good thing; they SHOULD reveal things about the characters, they should have cool little extra details; they should be important and plot relevant. If they weren't it would just be some cool costume for the characters (and let's be honest, some/most of them absolutely are...) However the fact of the matter is, what we were promised was that this would be a means of continuing to tell us about The City while funding other big projects.

I remember when they said we were going to get a proper open world game set in The City, where we were going to be able to make our own character and explore everything. Do you have any idea how hype I was for that? Limbus changed very quickly from the planning phase to the execution phase. It's success rapidly shifted the focus, no longer was it just a side project to sort of run in the background and "give us something back for donations and funding support." Suddenly it was THE focus of Project Moon.

I understand that since the launch (and even before the launch) of Limbus, Project Moon has had a lot going on. As in, things have come out that the company kinda sucks, that their practices are less than ethical; there was a very short lived boycott over the rights of women in Korea, and the sexism seen in the workplace at Project Moon.

It was genuinely saddening to me to see that fail so quickly because you know, the entire community/fandom built on the shoulder of "we need to oppose shitty business practices even when it's hard." Couldn't manage to oppose shitty business practices and sexism, because they needed their blorbos or whatever.

HOWEVER, that's all been talked about into the dirt, what I don't often see discussed; though it does happen on occasion, is just how much the tone of the game has shifted. Lobotomy Corp, back in it's original heyday; was actually really interesting. Because it was one of the few horror games where sure the graphics were pretty mid and the overall visual aesthetics may not be consistent. However that didn't matter because the characters and story were actually well written and compelling. We were seeing a game explore horror in a very human way, beyond simple shock factor and jumpscares. It still had monsters, and they were the least frightening part of the whole thing.

It felt like the Abnormalities were there as a sort of reminder; here are the monsters, but what's actually scary is what's going on at the company. What's going on with the people, and how you're involved, and the fact that these characters are suffering from very relatable, understandable; and human traumas. The scariest part of Lobotomy Corp for me wasn't Nothing There or The Woman Facing The Wall; it was the relatability of these characters, the fact I couldn't help but see a piece of myself in characters like Malkuth or Chesed.

It was also really interesting that at no point (other than MAYBE Netzach) does the game outright throw something in your face. Not once does it tell you "Malkuth has ADHD" or whatever. It doesn't need to, you see it; you understand it. You feel the futility of it all, understanding you're in a loop, you can't change how things will play out; you can't fix the past, you can do everything in your power to lessen the suffering but it won't fix it.

It's insane that we go from a storylines like Tiph's to the height of horror being "scary" monsters and in-your-face trauma. We even saw a bit of this formula in Library of Ruina, though I believe it was handled a lot better. A lot of people tell me I'm just bias, I was one of the "originals" by which I mean I remember being in THE (at the time) Project Moon discord server when there were maybe like 20 of us who were really mentally unwell about this series. Making mods, making content whether it be art or writing or whatever, I remember staying up all night going through the code and the data and the unused assets. So sure I have a lot of love for the original Lob Corp and such.

However what people hate to recognize is that yes, I'm aware of my bias, and where my bias lies; and no that's not influencing my opinion in the way you think it is. Believe it or not I DO like the characters in Limbus; I actually don't mind at all that we see some fresh faces. I wouldn't be happy with them dragging the corpse of Chesed into Limbus just so I can see my dumb blue haired coffee man (don't think I'm generalizing my favorite boy I swear to god.) I'd be mad that they really dredged up the corpse of a more or less complete character story just to pull some fan service.

My issue with Limbus is just how unfitting it feels. This doesn't feel like the same writing at all, it feels to me as though there's so much more shock value and fan service and "hey isn't THIS cool!?" Rather than striking at the heart of horror. I'm not saying these characters aren't still relatable to people, I absolutely know they are. I'm saying that we've seen Project Moon drift closer and closer to safe marketability over interesting storytelling.

Marketability really is the core problem for me, from the need for monetary gain to the lack of risk being taken with the narrative. It feels like a cheap cash grab, and it's taken over the entire company. We won't ever get another game like Lob Corp, it's just not going to happen. Even if we do get those other promised things; like a "Project Moon Land" or an open world City exploration game, it's going to be a shell of what it could have and should have been. Because it's sharp edges and gripping narrative is going to be smoothed down and made to be marketable to the highest paying audience.

I feel like Limbus more than any other game in the series is so black and white. These are the good guys (who have done bad things uwu) and these are the bad evil guys. This is the characters explicit trauma, we're going to bring this up again at the end very directly. All our characters are SO quirky and fun, this one talks in acronyms! This one exclusively talks in the third person! This one is autistic! But What if they had REASONS for being like that?!?!?!??!?!?? It all feels so, I don't know; it's like those youtubers who make horror content for kids saying "DON'T CALL DON QUIXOTE AT 3 AM!"

I'm not even saying you can't have quirky characters, or characters who talk in a specific way, or characters who are autistic. I'm saying that the whole thing with Limbus feels so half-hearted and phoned in. I've tried to get into the game several times, and if it's not that I'm literally missing out on stuff because I'm actually poor and can't afford to spend hundreds on gacha every time they release a new one; it's the fact that it just feels so predictable.

This could very well be a ME problem, and I fully accept that and I'm not here to tell you that you can't like Limbus Company. I'm just blogging on my personal blog lamenting (heh) the fact we're never going to get another Lob Corp; or even a Library of Ruina. Because at the end of the day I have a deep love for those games; but Project Moon isn't the company it once was, and now that it has had a taste of this success it's never going to go back to being the company it once was. Especially not after you know, firing some of their key figures, burning bridges with creators and artists; and ultimately shooting themselves in the foot 8 times over because hey it doesn't matter, check out this new EGO we made Don's a spooky vampire now!

If you actually want a really good example of what I mean when I say it feels half hearted; look no further than the very first major plot arc with Gregor. That's my boy right there, I love that guy; but they really do just pull an immediate one two punch only to miss both swings with the whole "here's Yuri, he likes Yuri like a sister; uh oh someone has to protect her who are you going to send? It has to be Gregor; it has to be, you can't actually pick anyone else, like sure you can but we've set this up so you HAVE to pick Gre- OH NO HE FAILED and she's DEAD and he's SAD and you should be too!" But more than that, let me put it this way; what's Gregor's key design thing? If I was to line up the sinners and have you point out something unique about each of their designs; what would it be for Gregor? Is it his arm? You know, the lack of a human arm? You know, the thing he has trauma about? The physical and visual representation of his trauma? The fact it's a weapon? A sharp, jagged, inhuman wea- oh wait hang on...

Yea sure I guess he can just have that back for this ID. Why not. Fuck it, we can't even commit to this one thing entirely. "That's LITERALLY only 1 EGO dude."

Okay.

Another one. "That's a fucked up thorn claw that doesn't count." Fine dude, fuck; here,

That's CLEARLY a fucking hand with some butterflies on the arm. (Sick design mind you but come on man.)

My point with this whole bit here is that they really feel like they can't even commit to what feels like a key visual design element for a character's trauma because hey the rule of cool will sell more if we make him look badass!

And like the other big thing is that we actually know that in The City robotic prosthetics and the like are COMMON, so something like this?

That would be seen as just a mostly functional arm or something he could get replaced with a fully functioning arm later. Not a weapon, not an instrument of trauma for the poor guy.

That's ALSO just an arm. Here's another Prosthetic:

And another arm:

And ANOTHER ARM:

Look what I'm saying here is that of his 8 IDs on the wiki, only 3 actually have a hook, claw, or non-hand/arm appendage that is actually a weapon. Of the 6 EGO on the wiki 4 of them are either just hands/arms or at least vaguely hand/arm adjacent with only 2 being the centipede and orb thing.

So the take away for me on this is that they couldn't even handle committing to the most surface level visual key element of this character for the MAJORITY of his IDs and EGOs. What's the point? His character arc is predictable and just tries to hit you in the gut with "he's a victim of war, he was experimented on; he loses everyone he cares about!" Then goes "oh and don't worry about him being a cockroach man because that doesn't matter actually..."

I hate it man.

I miss when this company made single player focused games, that told an interesting story; and actually understood horror and trauma beyond buzzwords and flash in the pan "ANGST" moments. I'm sorry but half of the Cantos have these very predictable storylines that really demand I get invested to side characters who we know aren't going to make it out alive because "Death = Sad and Emotion Response = Good!"

Do you remember when FNAF came out and everyone and their brother made youtube videos about how, "Jumpscares are cheap horror because it's an involuntary response!" Because this is that but for writing; they just want you to feel sad or angst or whatever because they know triggering any kind of emotional response in you means they got some kind of reaction from you. Gone are the days when you actually had time to get to know and care about a character; gone are the days when the characters were going through shit that actually did impact you in some way. Now we get 2-bit here and gone flash in the pan side characters to kill off, they exist solely to be expendable. I really miss when the games forced me to assume the role of a fucked up little guy and let me fight against the very nature of being a fucked up little guy in a fucked up little world. Only to come to the understanding that no matter how much I try, no matter how much I struggle against the horror; I can't undo the past, I can't save his wife; I can't end their suffering; I can't undo her decades of pain. I can only go forward as a better version of a fucked up little guy.

[bbycosmo]

Warning: this is a tangent from a delusion being currently frothing at the mouth for Oathbound so everything said after this statement must be taken with the finest grain of salt because clearly delusion does not = reality but I’m too far gone to understand that lol

Okay, I don’t have any sort of evidence towards this besides an incredibly inaccurate gut feeling and my brain trying to connect dots towards.

So we know that Selwyn is a Gemini

BreeBree is a Scorpio

And Nick’s birthday hasn’t been revealed yet.

Okay, so something kinda tells me what Nick can potentially be a water or earth sign, ( I’m not knowledgeable about astrology in the slightest, but after looking up the compatibility charts for Scorpio I noticed that Gemini and Scorpio has the lowest compatibility with one another, which would probably describe Sel and Bree’s relationship. And then if you look at the highest compatibility it’s Pieces, Capricorn, Virgo, Cancer)

And because Oathbound is coming out in March something just told me that like what if she sorta planned it that way? So bloodmarked was originally supposed to come out in July which would be right at the time of Gemini season so it would’ve been a Selwyn birthday book release.

But instead it was released in November on Bree’s birthday which… idk it could just be the way publishers work and small bits of pieces not being 100% but it felt intentional? Yeah this is all a whack a doodle thought but I need to release it into the aether so I can get back to my life and stop this insanity of this series taking over every aspect of my day to day thoughts.

So yeah…. in conclusion, I think that’s Oathbound being released in March might be symbolic for the trios birthdays. As a nerd I feel like having little Easter eggs and stuff like that would be really cute for the fandom and then once the series is over we can pull together all the pieces of the puzzle.

I hope I’m wrong because I don’t want to be dragged further down into my rabbit hole of this craziness any longer by the time we have to wait for another 2-3 years for the 4th and final book.

Also… while I’m here. I don’t really buy into the whole Sel as the ShadowKings son. I think perhaps Valec being related to him is more believable because clearly there is some sort of relationship between the two there; also seeing as how he was prayed that he was dead after meeting up with Sel and Bree in the forest after that whole “ I can still taste you” scene.

Although!!! What I will say is, how interesting it would be if Selwyn’s mother was the Shadow Kings daughter!!! Yes I did say I don’t buy into the whole Sel being the shadow king thing but I do think it’s plausible for him to be related to him. For the regents to be so convinced about that her bloodline is so important that they forced her to sire a child. There is clearly so much more about the Kane family that has yet to be revealed. I sit eagerly at the edge of my seat waiting for the pen to drop and all is reveled.

Again no real evidence to support this besides random hunches and feelings..

I do hope we see more Dragon Bree because dragons have been brought up since legend born and I would love to see some kick ass vengeful dragon fight scenes. I also really want to know how Nick feels. ( in general) His side of this love triangle is hanging by a thread because the readers haven’t been able to peak into his head and understand what he has been thinking and feeling for awhile.

While Nick is being discussed I still haven’t forgiven him for not considering Bree’s safety after that whole Gala incident. Why was Sel more aware of the shitty position he put Briana in !? Even Briana was so overcome with the “ we did it Joe” celebration that she was too busy getting tongued down that I don’t even think she even processes that fact. That part enrages me even now when I think about that man. Because I see so many people shit on Selwyn for being a loose cannon ( which he is!!) but for a loose cannon to be the person making statements like

“ if that is your wish” after she tells him she’s come to say goodbye

Or the whole ‘no other Merlin monologue’ where he doesn’t even confess his feelings to her ( In fact he hasn’t even explicitly said what he wants or whether or not he is in love with her. As a reader we know based on his actions there is something there but who knows if that tree loving cambion will allow himself those feelings) he simply just wants her to be happy and alive so that the world doesn’t break and go dark.

And of course let’s not forget how he seems to see Bree for who she is. And that is someone completely insufferable , stubborn, annoying, while also being remarkable, stunning and beautiful.

Okay I know I am clearly biased but, it’s just hard to see Nick the same way since that scene, and I really want a redemption story for him in Oathbound

Update: just another thought

Since Sel is one of the few if not one of the only Merlin’s who can transform in to a bird. What if instead of the Shadow King he’s more directly related to Merlin than what the Regents have brainwashed him to believe all his life.

Related how? I’m not sure but after sleeping on it I think this makes more sense because how can we as readers completely ignore the fact that during one of Bree’s bloodwalks where she sees Merlin she finds it funny that even Merlin was known for saying

“ I am aware”

Which we know is such a Sel thing to say!!!

Like?!!!!!