#this was gonna be way less rendered but then i was possessed by all of the homosexual cells in my body at once

[spannardnation]

Their love language is: being fucking dorks with each other

#SpanNard #andy x oscar #oscar x andy #Andy Bernard #Oscar Martinez #this was gonna be way less rendered but then i was possessed by all of the homosexual cells in my body at once #and then painted for 4hrs straight #but u see i love them and so what could be done? #there are so many DETAILS in this that i just adore i might lose my mind #andy got his ear pierced a few days after he came out and he just walked into the office w his new jewellery and said nothing #everybody sort of looked at eachother for a moment and went “ok” and got on with their work #when theyre dressing up fancy he has a dangly hoop and anchor and its CUTE #i also make sure to include oscars healed over piercing scars #bc he had both done as a teen #THANK U FOR COMING TO MY TED TALK ABT THEIR EARRINGS #SpanNard Nation #my art

[bonny-kookoo]

Jungkook

𝓘 𝓛𝓲𝓴𝓮 𝓨𝓸𝓾 (say it back): Sour 🔞

You know people think you're just using him. And he knows that people think he's just getting used by you. And maybe it's time for him to stand up, and make some things clear.

Tags/Warnings: Girly!Reader, Introvert!Jungkook, non-idol AU, opposites attract AU?, established relationship, Angst, Major Fluff, some drama, Slice of Life (like Good Girl AU for example), mc is kook's biggest simp, kook is kind of overwhelmed by her love sometimes, but it's fine they both cute, Jealousy oh no, possessive kook!, multiple rounds, boob slapping like.. once, cumplay, creampie oops²

Length: Long, didn't count oops

A/N: There is no taglist. There is no taglist. There is no taglist. There is no-

-> Masterlist

━━━━━━━━━━.~°♡°~.━━━━━━━━━━━

"Ah, by the way!" His trainer asks, while Jungkook quietly unwraps his hands after his boxing training. "I wanted to ask you, who was that girl you were with when you came here earlier?" He asks, referring to you.

Jungkook doesn't really know any other girls besides you, after all. So it has to be you- you've tagged along to the boxing studio with him, leaving him to walk inside on his own however since he'd offered to simply take you along, so you could go to your appointment at the hair salon while he was working out, and bring you back home once he was done.

"..my girlfriend." Jungkook says, continuing to unwrap his other hand before flexing the fingers a bit. It's a bit odd to say it out loud- but not a bad-odd. Just unfamiliar.

Maybe because he doesn't say it much.

Maybe he should.

"Really?" His trainer wonders, looking genuinely surprised for a second as he looks at Jungkook- who feels a bit challenged, almost. Jungkook has noticed that the start contrast between you and himself has caused some people to look at him with almost something akin to pity- as if he's the prey in the cougars claws, about to be chewed and spit out once you're done with him. He gets it- but at the same time, it irritates him to no ends, because you're pretty much the sweetest cursing little angel he's ever met up to this point.

So it's unsurprising that his answer might sound a bit more offended than he's intending it to. "Yes." He answers, brows lowering.

"Oh, wow." His trainer seems to catch up on his mood. "No offense, really! Just- surprising, you know?" He tries to explain himself. "You're always so quiet, and you know… Are you sure she's in it for the right reasons?" He asks, and at that, Jungkook puts everything down to look up at his trainer with a serious face.

"What are you implying?" He demands to know.

"Man, I'm just saying! You know, I know girls like that. They use guys like you! They might fuck you well but-" He tries. "-I just-"

"You want to fuck her instead, is that it?" Jungkook calls him out, and by the look on the guy's face, Jungkook had hit the jackpot. And just as he gets up to walk closer, the door opens, and you walk in with a rustling paperbag that smells like takeout food.

"Uh.. am I interrupting something?" You ask, a little unsure- and both men stare each other down for a bit longer, before Jungkook walks off to walk over to you instead, hand on the back of your neck as he gives you a short but heated kiss- rendering you a bit speechless for once. He's never this bold in public.

What's going on?

"I'll go shower real quick, okay?" He tells you, and you just dumbly nod, left by yourself as he walks past his trainer into the changing rooms and showers.

"I'm just- not gonna ask." You just say, more or less to yourself as you sit down in a chair close by, throwing one leg over the other before pulling out your phone.

"He's just having a bad day." The trainer tells you, walking closer. "So, you and him?" He asks, and you nod at that, big grin on your face.

"Yep!" You chirp, tapping away on your phone.

"Don't make him spend all his money on you." The trainer tells you, somewhat joking- though you can hear the hint of honest threat in his tone, which makes you stop what you're doing. "I know he's a softy, but come on. Just cause he's easy doesn't make it right." He says, and you become a bit insecure at that.

You know that's what most people must think of you- but hearing it said out loud makes it sting just a bit more.

You want to stand up for yourself like you always try to do- but somehow, you can't, not in this moment. Not because you don't want to- but because you're just realizing how little people think of Jungkook. You're not even the victim here. It's not your place to even be offended in the first place.

You can take the weird rumors about yourself, the glances and looks, the stereotypes and boxes people put you in. But the fact that just because Jungkook cares, and loves, and treats the people around him with kindness, he's seen as someone weak and pitiful, just makes you angry. Because if you stood up for him right now, it would only cause more issues- the guy in front of you would only feel validated in his opinion, would never let your boyfriend live it down that his own stupid dumb girlfriend had to defend his poor self from the world.

"I'll send you my cancellation for my membership via E-mail." Jungkook suddenly says as he emerges from the showers, grabbing his bag before he helps you stand up from your seat, brushing down the back of your skirt with his palm. He almost instantly reaches for your small bag as well, holding it for you while you put your phone away.

"Hey man, I was just looking out for you-" The trainer starts, but Jungkook puts himself between him and you as if to prove a point, calmly speaking.

"Don't. I'm very much capable of doing that myself." He says, simply takes his bag to throw over his shoulder before he takes your hand in his, and leaves the gym.

It's only in the car that you dare ask what's happened. "Is it because of me?" You wonder, and Jungkook perks up at that, face completely devoid of the anger he'd had just a few minutes ago.

"What do you mean?" He asks, even his voice not in the slightest irritated any longer.

"At the gym, earlier." You say, opening the paper bag to steal some fries for yourself. "Like, you said you'll cancel your membership and stuff. And you love boxing." You shrug, and he shakes his head.

"I think I just realized that I need to start putting my foot down." He offers, changing lanes as he drives you both home. "And the membership was also pretty overpriced anyways. There's other gyms I can check out." He tries to joke, though you don't seem too convinced next to him.

"You know I'm not using your for, you know, sex and money right?" You ask him, and his eyes widen. "Like, I really really do love you-" You begin, and he laughs.

"I know that, don't worry." He tells you. "Is that what he told you?" He wonders, and you shrug.

"Lot's of people think that." You huff to yourself. "Comes with the style, I guess. And like, I'm not mad about that- I don't really care if people think I'm a money-grabbing whore." You laugh, making him cringe. He doesn't like you talking about yourself like that. "But it just makes me mad that people think you're a pussy who needs to be babied all the time." You complain.

"So you're getting angry on my behalf?" He chuckles, and you nod, crossing your arms.

"I hate when people don't take you seriously." You huff to yourself, staying quiet the entire rest of the ride until you both reach his apartment where you're staying over at tonight- when his arms reach around you from the back, his face hiding in the crook of your neck where he kisses the skin.

"I love you."He hums, and you shiver at the sound of that sentence. He doesn't say it often, his love language non-verbal, rather expressing his feelings in acts of service or fleeting touches. So whenever he does say it, it's special. "And I'm.. really happy you're my girlfriend, you know that?" He says, and you shrug.

"I'm.. you know, I'm sorry I'm always so much trouble." You sigh, but he shakes his head.

"You're not." He denies. "I need to.. say it more often to people. You know. Stop introducing you as.. you, but as my girlfriend instead." He tells you.

"You don't have to-" You start, but he chuckles.

"No, I do." He argues gently. "Because I can't stand it when people think you're easy to get. Or that you're someone that's available in the first place." He complains, walking you closer to his small bedroom, where he suddenly picks you up and let's you fall on the bed, your body bouncing from the impact a little.

"Jung-" you start, but he's already crawling closer to you on hands and knees, leaning in.

"You're mine." He almost growls under his breath, kissing you feverishly. You're not sure what's gotten into him, but you're also not complaining- or maybe you do, as you hear fabric rip and buttons drop to the floor around the bedroom.

"kook!" You whine. "That was one of my favorites-!" You complain, while he's busy pulling your skirt from your legs.

"As if I care." He growls, before he pulls you closer by the backs of your knees. "I like that lingerie though." He almost purrs, hands pulling on the straps of the lace body, letting them snap back against your skin playfully so.

"Yeah I like it too-" You pout, crossing your arms. "-So don't break it." You huff, making him raise one of his brows before he moves to push your wrists into the bed up above your head.

"I won't promise anything." He comments, before he leans down to kiss you, lips eager to claim your breath while his hands roam around your body, grabbing onto the softness of your breasts before they travel lower, over your sides, stomach, one pulling your leg up, while the other moves between your legs.

Your toes curl as he finds a way to slip his palm inside, teasing you for a good while before he throws his shirt over his head, shedding the rest of his clothes as well, before he grabs at the lace bottom of the lingerie.

It rips as he creates an opening, making you whine.

"I'll buy you a new one." He hums, one of his hands pumping his cock before he guides himself into your leaking core, pushing in slowly to help you adjust. "I'll buy you ten, I don't fucking care."

"You'll rip them all.." you sigh partially because of the feeling of him filling you up like this.

"Damn right I will." He chuckles darkly, pulling out before he pushes back in.

It's the start of what you think you know by now- but he's catching you off guard as his hips move at an aggressive pace, skin against skin echoing in the room as he clenches his jaw, a hard grip on your thighs, making you wonder if he'll leave bruises.

You wouldn't mind if he did.

Your head spins as you're left taking whatever he gives you, one of his hands leaving your thigh to instead pull down some of the straps on the upper part, pulling out your tits for him to see freely move. He can't help but grab onto one of them, hold it before he slaps it once just to see how it feels.

You, meanwhile, feel like you're having an out of body experience. You can hear yourself moan almost obscenely, whining and whimpering as he pounds into you, but its like your body doesn't respond to you any longer, as you arch your back and curl your toes.

And like the devil he is, he doesn't slow down. Instead, he grabs your hips, and adjusts you to lay over his thighs, gaining the ability to aim even deeper inside. And your body freezes up as you hit your orgasm full force, thighs shaking violently as he slows a bit, erratically moving to reach his own high as well, your cunt clenching around him tightly.

And as he finally cums, pushed as far inside you as he can, he finally gains back the ability to year, and notice his surroundings.

Your chest is rising and falling rapidly, your eyes are closed, skin shining in a light layer of sweat as he can't help but run his hands over the pale pink lace lingerie covering your body.

You're just so pretty.

He moves the straps and lace around, helps you out of the garment, slipping out of your core for a moment, causing you to whine in complaint. "So pretty.." he hums, as he finally has full access to your bare skin, lips peppering kisses from your stomach up to your neck, hands never staying still. "All mine." He speaks against your skin, when you feel him suddenly harshly suck and bite at your neck and shoulder.

"J-jungk-" you stammer, legs rubbing against one another as he chuckles.

"Already wanting more?" He wonders, and you nod, hands clinging onto his arms. "Think you can take it?" He jokes, and you nod again.

"Please-" you beg, and he leans back, pulling you with him to straddle his lap, adjusting you properly on his still sensitive cock. You've never had sex in this position before,but you immediately decide that it's one of your favorite- the way he holds you, his body all over you, the way he's able to provide such an immense feeling of safety and comfort to you, is otherworldly almost.

Or maybe it's just jungkook himself. You're not sure.

He's overly sensitive but pushes through that first wall, moves a lot slower and more sensual now as he helps you bounce on his lap, before you instead start to roll your hips into his- earning a very vocal response from him as he holds onto your ass, assisting you in your motions while your hands are on his back, nails scratching a little over his skin.

And he loves it, loves the idea of wearing your marks just as much as you do his.

He really should show his love for you more often. It's still a bit odd to him why you're with him in the first place, but he should stop trying to figure that out- because that's not what it's all about, isn't it? Your relationship doesn't need any other reason to exist than live alone, and love is something you both have a lot of.

The love for your body, your mind, your soul. The love for the way you nap around whenever you can in the most random of places. The love for your random kisses you place on his cheek, on his neck, on his hands, on his shoulders. The love for your cooking, your care and your hugs at night.

He's got so much love for you, and he should show that.

He's sure he can't cum again, but he knows he's reaching his second orgasm however, hips moving erratically just like yours as you pick up your pace, lips chasing after his, as he licks at your lips, open mouthed kisses sharing breaths as you reach your highs.

You cling onto him for a good while after, feeling him fill you up once more as his cock spurts his release up your cunt, making it leak out down your legs, as he lays your limp body back down on the bed, pulling out.

His hand can't help but try and push his seed back in- and when he notices he can't, he instead uses it as lubricant to instead let his thumb circle over your pulling clit, a frail whimper coming from you as he softly lures another orgasm out of you, his breath finally normalizing as he watches his cum leak out of you.

He's tired, exhausted, but forces himself up at least to help you and him clean up and so you go pee, while he simply throws the stained sheets into the wash. Neither he nor you get dressed after showering and drying up, rather opting to sleep wrapped in simple blankets on the couch instead, holding each other close.

And the pain in his muscles the next time he wakes up is so worth it-

Just like the honestly amusing sight of you struggling to walk straight.

#bts imagine #bts fanfic #bts fic #jungkook imagine #jeon jungkook x reader #bts jungkook x reader #bts jungkook fanfic #bts jungkook imagine #bts jeon jungkook x reader #bts jeon jungkook imagine

[angelltheninth]

Possessive Daemon Pins You in the Hallway

Pairing: Daemon Targaryen x Fem!Reader

Tags: fluff, established relationship, teasing, kissing, possessiveness, Daemon is a little handsy, Reader pinned against the wall

A/N: Craving Daemon content again, surely others are too.

Flowers, stolen glances and kisses, romantic dragon rides in the moonlight were all plentiful in your relationship with Daemon. He was sweet to you, protective and caring, ready to fight anyone who dares smear your name. All the qualities of a good boyfriend and future husband.

He was also... a huge tease. A relentless one you might say, horrendously so when he figured out how easy you were to fluster.

Even on your way back from a formal dance, with eyes on you from all angles as you walked through the door he still had the nerve to run his fingers slowly, very slowly and lightly, up your back and make you visibly shiver from it.

"Problem, darling?" His smirk said it all, he knew what he was doing, you thought you did too until you ended up pressed against the cold stone wall of the hallway.

"As far as I can see you're the one with the problem, darling. We were in the middle of a big public event, it's important. Why are you acting like this?"

"Like what?" He drew closer, his thumb and index finger holding your chin, rendering you unable to run from the heat of his eyes. He didn't move, waiting, expecting, silently demanding an anwser.

"Possessive." Oh no, his innocent puppy-dog eyes were not gonna work now, you know this trick, "You made me whimper Daemon. In a room full of very important people."

Daemon's eyes were no longer amused, instead turned to that iron-clad, piercing, unforgiving look he gave to those who wouldn't the the Sun rise again, "Then they should learn to look elsewhere, not at what's mine."

"What? But... I... I wouldn't leave you, not for any of them." You didn't care how much they looked or who did it, what you and Daemon had was unbreakable.

"I know that. And so should they if they know what's good for them. I could have killed all of them, but that would ruin this pretty dress you have on. So I decided to take a less violent approach. Besides, there are other ways to... stake our claims on one another." Warm lips hovered over yours, briefly brushing against each other before he pulled away.

"Tease." You grumbled and laughed against his chest.

"I could not be. All you have to do is grace my bed with your presence tonight." Well you did leave the party already, and what he was suggesting sounded like much better of a time then trying to impress people who couldn't care less about you past your status.

Not like Daemon, who would set the world on fire for you and rebuild it back from the ashes with you by his side.

#daemon targaryen #daemon targaryen x reader #daemon x reader #daemon targaryen imagine #hotd x reader #hotd imagine #hotd angst #house of the dragon #house of the dragon x reader #house of the dragon imagine #game of thrones #game of thrones x reader #got x reader #got headcanons #got imagine #x reader #x female reader

[myers-meadow]

If Haarlep were to become genuinely romantically involved with a mortal, then what would that relationship look like? Would the incubus be jealous or possessive of their partner? Would there be any expectations for exclusivity? Would it be a 'We can sleep with other people, but we are romantically exclusive' kind of situation?

Good question! This is gonna be a long answer, because I just can't shut up <3

There's some lore that I know of that says devils can have cravings for affection, the way mortals do, and that feeling is stronger the closer they are to being humanoid? Something like that at least, but I'm FAR from an expert on lore - i just write silly fics. Anyway, incubi and succubi are closer to humanoid shape, than those insect devils or any else that I have seem some art of. Affection is not the same as love, but it doesn't have to be for it to still be meaningful and fulfilling. I mean, maybe animals can't love, but if that 'mrew' the cat does while jogging up to the door when the owner comes home, isn't love, it at least is enough for me, and enough to make me happy. Those ramblings out of the way,,

Exclusivity... I don't think there's anything like that in the relationship, at least not in the ones my Tav/ocs have with him. Haarlep needs to sleep with others, and corrupt mortals, to feed and live a satisfactory life. I don't know how much or how often they need to feed, but I do think that the appetite could be quite insatiable - give a finger, they take a hand type situation? I mean that, if you give them free reign to feed on you, you may just render yourself fucked out and comatose for a good while 😅.

As for exclusivity on Tav/reader's side... Depends on what they want, too, of course. Possessiveness can be quite hot in fics, so I do enjoy writing it,,, Haarlep, as a devil, is probably selfish enough not to want others to play with his toys. Still, he is understanding of having needs, desires, hunger; especially when you two are apart for a longer time.

Romantically exclusive is a good word for it, maybe. I do see Haarlep and Tav both making comments along the lines of "you better not do this with others", or "you're the only one I ever want to do this with", about bathing together, washing each others hair and body, sensual massages, breakfasts in bed, etc etc. Still, with the descriptions of the narrator of the scene ("every kiss is a lie of true love"), Haarlep deals in mortal affection and love, it's part of his game to lure mortals in so he can feed. So it may be hard to have defined boundaries around this.

Then there is the option, of the Haarlep/Tav/Raphael polycule <3. So then exclusivity is yet another thing to discuss. The vibe I get from Raphael would be that he likes to share much less than Haarlep does - he may even make a rule stating you cant fuck Haarlep while they're in another form than Raphael's. It's still up to you whether you keep to that rule or not, of course. What Raphael doesn't know, can't harm him <3 😊

On a more light-hearted note (half-joking about these), to me a relationship with Haarlep would include;

talking shit about Raphael together

telling him 'i love you' when he's balls deep inside/when you're balls deep inside

and saying it again while you're cuddling after, slick with sweat

rummaging through Raphael's archive, messing up his orderly poetry collection.....

Haarlep is tender and loving and everything you've ever wanted... and he makes sure you stay with him for as long as he wishes you to be, so that he gets to enjoy you and your adoration of him.

exploring new hobbies together, maybe something artistic, and I'm sure Haarlep has enough knowledge about sex positions that him teaching you would keep you busy for months on end.

late nights talking together while laying in bed, staring at the ceiling, tails coiled together but otherwise not touching (is too hot)

ALL of the infernal gossip

being a menace in Raphael's life. Just. Overall.

Later on, after I've written the fics I'm working on and have a better grasp on how I see his character, I'd like to explore Haarlep as someone outside of Raphael's realm of influence. But that's for another day!

xoxo Meadow

#ask #anon #stray cat anon #bg3 #bg3 headcanons #bg3 haarlep #haarlep #haarlep headcanons

[mask-of-prime]

Fyuzi Explained

So a user on DeviantArt brought up a really good point about Vitani's eyes taking on a resemblance to Nuka's upon being possessed by his spirit. This was brought on by one of my recent drawings of Vitani where I recently depicted her with a partial glow in her eyes when her fire powers begin to charge. My indecision with how I was ultimately gonna go about with depicting Vitani's possession powers manifested in the form of various sketches exhibiting different situations when I was thinking of designing a Fire Roar Vitani with regular red Nuka eyes, or glowing Ghost Nuka eyes. Breakdown below: Image 1: Vitani's Swahili command for her and Nuka's spirits to combine. "Fyuzi" is Swahili for "fuse", and why I chose that word specifically was because you get "fuse" as in combining AND "fuse" as in lighting a fuse which was perfect for a fire ghost lol. Here Nuka's fiery entity enters Vitani's brain and chest to occupy her conscience and to fuel her lungs. (no she doesn't turn into a silhouette that was just me being minimal lol) Image 2: When it's Nuka's turn to talk/think, Vitani's eyes change to the red eyes Nuka once sported when he was alive. When this happens, it could make it appear as if Vitani's arguing with herself, but sometimes with the mannerisms of a certain awkward brother, and it occasionally concerns and even frightens passers-by, and especially loved ones XD Image 3: "Fully-Charged" mode is when Vitani is about to use/is currently using/just finished using a Fire Roar. Her eyes and throat glow a hot orange when she unleashes a Fire Roar. Image 4: Joke drawing on the whole possession thing. Yeah it's a reference to the Boondocks episode where Tom is possessed by Stinkmeaner and a certain scene that's been living in my head rent free for years. I like to think that Nuka would just end up ruining one of Vitani's speeches to the Pridelanders or something lol god I miss making VG art where it's, like, not just formal, fully-rendered art of "episodes" with proper grammar in the description. I missed making lore sketches like this, feels like it keeps VG a little more alive when I worldbuild. Besides, idk where in the story all of this is gonna fit anyhow. Might as well just show it SOME way. Also just less explaining and expositions within the story if all the information's kept in one place for readers to redirect to beforehand

#The Lion King #The Lion Guard #Vitani's Guard #TLK #TLG #Vitani #Nuka #Tiifu #My Art

[dundunny]

Final Fantasy XVI

Final Fantasy XVI completed, and wow, I think it's my favorite Final Fantasy since IX, and I'm surprised more people aren't talking about it (focusing on VIIR2?). It's not a perfect game and has some glaring flaws, but I haven't had this much fun playing a Final Fantasy in a long time.

I'll start with the issues, and I think number one is the items, which affects the game twofold. First is there's a completely fucked up weapon upgrade system. Literally after I get a shiny new sword, barely an hour later I've gotten another one. It's like Square didn't track when a player should get trying out something new. The second is the rewards for exploration or epic battles don't matter. There are maybe a dozen different upgrade materials in the whole game, most of which you get pretty early on. So I'm literally running around the final area and finding fucking sharp fangs, which I started collecting way back in the beginning when Clive was like fifteen. Yeah, (some) bounties have good drops, but I literally defeated Bahamut and got forty bloody hides, of which I already owned hundreds. None of the accessories felt like game changers either, so opening up treasure chests felt like meh. You need a sort of nice reward for effort. If I'm gonna walk across the map for some distant treasure, it better not be five of what I already have hundreds of. It's annoying because they put so much effort into everything else, so literally hiring one dude whose sole job is this I feel shouldn't've been hard.

Then there are regular battles. Let me say this first: boss battles were amazing and I was completely satisfied with them. But XVI suffered from the same issue as Hogwarts Legacy: too little variation in enemies and you're way overleveled early on. There's no incentive to fight regular enemies on the map because you're not getting much EXP since you're already way over, their drops are pointless like every other item, so they're more or less just an annoyance you avoid. I didn't put any effort in trying basic encounters, and I beat the game one level below max. So what's the point. Given how much effort Square put into the battle system, it's a shame they didn't let me flex my muscles with it more often.

This is a personal preference but I think others would agree: I'm a big environments fiend, and you don't get to explore any of the major cities. Hell, you never see the Iron Kingdom's capital even in a cutscene. The cities are just dungeons, so you're basically there as a continuous fight so you don’t have time to appreciate the surroundings, and when you do everything is in the process of being destroyed or already is. You don’t even get to visit what should be a moderately sized town, Port Isolde, and even Northreach felt like a minor checkpoint before the capital moved. All that's left are small towns or even just hovels. I wonder if they were trying to save resources on environments; Oriflamme looks amazing from the outside, I can't imagine having the render all of that.

That being said, dungeons are following the trend of a linear path with perhaps a quick diversion for treasure. There's no puzzles, no thought (although a good portion of the time the dungeons are mid-battle of a large attack so there isn't time). XVI isn't alone in this; I've noticed most RPGs in recent years don't do the puzzle route as much anymore.

Another minor complaint is at times they would shove the point down the player's throat until it became fantastical. Yes, slavery is bad and people abuse slaves. However, I cannot imagine even in the cotton-picking South some person would purposefully have other people's slaves be killed by a giant wolf. That is someone else's property. Slaves to that extent are safe from others besides the master. Some dude is not going to go out and start murdering slaves randomly because even the law protects the master's possessions. It just doesn't make any sense.

Now onto the good things: pretty much everything else. The plot is solid and feels like Final Fantasy returning to form. Big crystals that need to be destroyed, kingdoms falling, a higher power controlling things behind the scenes... One thing I appreciate, and I think many recent games have lost this, is XVI had many sidequests that had us check in on friends we've met along the way and continue with their subplots. You never really forget these people and it shows how a network of connections and bonds is maintained. Even Eastpool, which was massacred fairly early on, rises up again much later on.

Another factor that I think is important is I just like Clive a lot. He's also my favorite Final Fantasy protagonist since IX. Don't get me wrong; I did like Lightning but if I ever had to work toward a common goal with her in real life, I probably would punch her in the face. I have no idea how she was ever in the military because she has zero sense of teamwork, and she acts like an asshole to even people who are actively trying to help her. Clive in contrast is very mature, has strong leadership abilities, not overly angry or obnoxious or lonerlike, and is just trying to do good in the world. He does make mistakes, but they're reasonable ones that happen because he didn't have all the information or there were circumstances he couldn't've foreseen, unlike other protagonists who do things you know are wrong and stupid but they do it anyway for the sake of plot. He makes the effort to play with the kids even though he isn't great at it, and they admire him for that. Even when he's angry in the beginning of the game, he's still respectful toward Cid and says, "Thanks for saving me, I have nothing against you or your group, I just have my own path I need to take." He recognizes his own weaknesses, and in such situations seeks assistence or delegates to others. He feels like an actual, filled-out human being, and kudos to whoever wrote him.

The other members of the cast are great too. Jill is very badass but a bit quiet and subdued, but given her time in the Iron Kingdom that's understandable. I thought Joshua would just be a plot point, but he really grew into his own. Cid was fun to be with, and I was sad when he was gone. Gav as always was cool. The enemies were great too. Benedikta died early on, but they threw in a great backstory with the little time they had. Kupka was an idiot and not deep, but you could feel his love and pain. Dion's path was surprising and I never knew what his next step was.

The battle system is definitely the best in the series. It was cool to experiment with each of the summons, and really it can be tailored easily to your style. No one I've asked equipped the same three summons. It feels like they were trying to reach a God of War level of combat, but simultaneously they fumbled on the actual fights. Again, bosses were amazing, but regular fights were just meh. I guess that's why they threw in so many boss fights so frequently.

In terms of music XV was definitely better, but I wouldn't stick my nose up to this. As with many aspects of the game, there were a lot of throwbacks. Prelude and the Final Fantasy Theme came up repeatedly, but also On the Shoulders of Giants had the traditional Final Fantasy regular battle opening. And also randomly for one of the times you fight Ultima, it's the FFI world map theme. I've definitely heard better, but I could listen to this OST on its own. The lyrics however are stupid. From what I'm understanding, they tasked the English translator to provide them, and considering this is the dude that wrote out "such foul attaint may not be sublimed through gainstanding," you can tell where this is going. I'll give a few examples:

A sickle forged of adamant To server the man from his hooded past No more a slave to sorrow's gloom In onychine eyes burn chthonic doom An evil hidng from the sun Blinding, he screameth eschaton immanent Now in its wake yawned lightless abyss Yon gaping maw his circumfix

I feel like this written by a high schooler who believes using as much SAT vocabulary they just learned makes them sound more intelligent. I don't know why anyone would compose this.

Visually it's all right. XV had a prettier environment, but this wasn't bad, especially when you're walking around Rosaria. I touched on how you never explore epic architecture, but the nature is beautiful. Unfortunately in the second half of the game when everything goes to shit, the world gets this haze over it and nothing is appealing to look at (which isn't unusual; other Final Fantasies, especially VI had catastrophic situations in the second half of the game). I guess that's kinda the point; the Blight is wiping out everything and actually Clive's efforts could ultimately be for naught and it's too late.

Which is how I'm going to end: It's a very depressing game. There's a lot of death, a lot of tragedy, a lot of loss. Clive lives a totally fucked up life, and he's not alone. The fact I still enjoyed this never-ending sadness demonstrates how well it was done. Totally recommend, play it as soon as you can.

Also... can we address that whole Barnabas and his mom thing? They had literally one scene with that and never mentioned it again. What the fuck was with that?

#final fantasy xvi #ffxvi #ff16 #clive rosfield #square enix

[hangon-silvergirl]

how about an au where instead of chrissy being possessed by vecna but instead it’s eddie that vecna is targeting and chrissy has to try to save him before eddie gets killed? you can make it smut or anything like that, it was just an idea that i had in mind :)

Howdy! I think this could be a super interesting S4 fix-it fic, honestly! The biggest challenge there is that Eddie needs to be vulnerable and Chrissy needs to not be. And the dear woods scene would probably not happen, but there could be a different avenue to bring them together effectively, I think.

Without further ado:

Eddie's piece-of-shit dad gets out of jail in early March of 1986 and comes sniffing around Wayne's trailer looking for handouts. Wayne can't say no to his little brother, has that 'gotta-take-care-of-em' nature, and Eddie just tries to make himself scarce because it's almost always a short-lived intrusion. Larry Munson'll get under your skin though, whether you let him or not. He's sly, a master-manipulator, cold and hot, a mean drunk, and a user who will bleed you dry just because he can. He ribs on his only son, calls him dumb (for failing HS twice), tells him to drop-out and get it over with, calls him a hippie freak (for the long hair and aesthetic), tells him it's no wonder his mama OD'd because Eddie kinda makes him wanna OD too, tells him he's a burden to his uncle, calls his music demon bullshit, and tries to convince Eddie to partner with him to jack cars '''cause it ain't like you're gonna make something of yourself, rock star." So yeah, Eddie tries to avoid his dad but he's always there, and he comes to Eddie's shows to heckle and his toxicity is just constant, constant, constant, until Eddie's rendered down to distraction, throbbing anger, and more or less starts to hate himself. The headache and the nosebleeds and the visions start soon after, and he becomes Vecna's planned victim #1.

Chrissy, on the other hand, started seeing Ms. Kelley earlier in the school year after her cheer coach found her purging and her mother didn't seem concerned about that one iota. With earlier intervention from the guidance counselor, and with support from her coach, Chrissy slowly but surely starts to set boundaries with her parents, develops healthier coping measures for her anxiety, and learns to stand up for herself. She is still with Jason at the start of the story, but that changes after his self-indulgent, grandiose bullshit at the pep rally. 1) Heather Holloway was her friend and him using her (and the rest of the victims of the mall fire) that way is gross, and 2) she has repeatedly told him that she hates PDA for the sake of 'publicity'. It's the final nail in the coffin for what was already a dying relationship. She doesn't blow a kiss back, just gives him a steely glare, which certainly deflates the moment, and after the event she tears a strip off of him in the middle of the very busy school hallway, and breaks up with him right then and there.

This shakes Jason and the team well off their game. The Tigers lose, abysmally; get clobbered in record time. All the jocks go to drown their sorrows at Benny's post-game, but Chrissy has no interest, bids her friends adieu, and takes her time in the locker room. When she finally emerges, Hellfire is letting out for their final session. She sees the crowd of club members rambling off into the night and glances into the drama room as she walks past, more out of curiosity than anything else. She sees Eddie Munson stock-still and looking terrified in the middle of the room. She immediately backtracks and knocks on the door. He doesn't respond to the sound. "Eddie?" she asks, first quietly and then a little louder, and eventually he realizes she's there.

The Forest conversation largely takes place here; Chrissy asks him about D&D and the game they just played and that gets his spirits up a bit; he does the 'this isn't the first time we've hung out' intro, but it's Chrissy who has to instigate the flirting, make him feel comfortable, and she definitely goes into detail about the impression a certain little boy with a buzzcut made on baby Chrissy. He seems resigned to calling it a night when the convo trails off though, says he'll just go home and get baked or keep losing his mind, whatever happens first; he then makes some offhand comment about her getting back to Camelot. Apparently he'd missed the spectacle with Jason and she reveals in getting to tell him the story and enjoys his very delighted reactions to the whole thing retold. "Honestly," she says, thinking he shouldn't be alone. "It's been a crazy day. Would you share a joint with me? My parents are out of town. You'll have to show me how, though; I've never done it before." This prospect seems to reset his brain somewhat, and he agrees. They drive to her house in his van, and they go up to her room and he teaches her to smoke. They have a shot-gunning moment that I think would be absolutely necessary, and at some point Chrissy decides that they need music. They have a flirty little argument about their clashing tastes (her own collection is very, very pop-y), but Chrissy insists that, somewhere in this house, there is common ground for them musically. She says that she'll be right back, then goes and raids her dad's office for some LPs.

She comes back with Led Zeppelin II. Eddie's off the bed and standing with his back to her, looking out the window, so Chrissy just starts going a mile a minute about her record choice, tells some story about her and her dad, and busies herself getting it setup. She puts it on Side Two and kicks off out of order with Ramble On because it's her favorite (and has no idea that it was Eddie's mom's favorite too). After a beat she realizes that Eddie isn't responding and hasn't moved; she approaches him and he's in a trance of something, eyeballs rolled back so far that all she can see are the whites. She tries to wake him up--claps, snaps, yells, shakes him, even gives him a little slap--but nothing seems to do the trick. When he snaps up to the ceiling she screams, falls on the floor and backs away, and it's then that the song's chorus kicks, the juxtaposing injection of ramble on! Now's the time the time is now! feeling very, very wrong in the moment. He's trembling up there, eyes still white, mouth open; then suddenly one of Eddie's arms contorts and snaps, and Chrissy fully and completely flips her shit. Robert Plant sings, gotta find the queen of all my dreams, and Chrissy thinks, desperately, that that's not right, because this is her worst nightmare.

At that moment, though, Eddie's pupils reappear and he crashes to her floor and she screams again, crying now. She crawls over to him, going, "Oh my god, Eddie! Eddie are you okay? What the heck happened?" And he's a wilting mass of a boy with a painfully broken arm and he's sobbing as much as she is and he just word vomits the whole thing to her. She moves closer and cradles him and they both just cry all over each other, and only when the sobbing slows to sniffles does she reach for the phone on her bedside table and call 911.

Post-that they'd come up with some story about him dicking around to explain the broken arm, they stash his lunchbox in her ceiling and she tries to cover up the smell as best she can before the ambulance gets there. Eventually this gossip gets out from the hospital to the rest of Hawkins--the head cheerleader and Larry Munson's son, can you imagine!--including Dustin and the party. Dustin catches up with them at some point (because they're inseparable after the fact, trauma bonding and all) and Eddie's got Zeppelin II on repeat in his walkman, and after some cryptic back-and-forth the actual story comes up and we get down to business. The rest of the party are collected, the other victims come become apparently, and Eddie and Chrissy are there for the whole shebang; they fall in love over the course of the insanity, but they don't act on it.

In the end it would be Eddie, not Max, who lures Vecna, and Chrissy who has to protect him against jilted Jason (who has convinced himself that Chrissy and Eddie were fucking around behind his back). Eddie starts to see his own worth through hiding in his good memories, holds on to Chrissy's perception of him, and helps Eleven finish the job. The party succeeds and kills Venca, NOBODY DIES and there's no hell canyon, but of course it's all a last minute thing for drama.

Eddie and Chrissy share their first kiss in the aftermath of Vecna's defeat, on the floor of the attic of the Creel house.

Thanks for the ask, anon!

Send Me an AU and I'll Give You 5+ (Rambling) Headcanons You'll find my growing collection of headcanons in this tag.

#hellcheer #hellcheer fanfiction #hellcheer au #alie's hellcheer headcanons #dash games #ask alie #anonymous

[nani-nonny]

OK AM GONNA ASK FOR ADORABLE HC of your peepaws if that's okay of course; the kids found they have a new sibling - draxam decided to pop a baby out/j - and this sibling is literally a baby like i don't know few months old?

How does the peepaws react to them?

Awww I can imagine Draxum thinking of creating a little turtle tot with the purpose of something for him to love rather than a purpose of human destruction after spending too much time with Mikey. Idk whose DNA he would use this time, but maybe he’ll just use some backup Lou Jitsu DNA he had or something. Always gotta have extras maybe?

But on that note, I think the peepaws would just be in complete awe. Like “so small” and all teary eyed and thinking that not even Casey Jr was this small as a baby.

DMD’s initial reaction would be to cry and promise to protect the tot at all costs. He’d carry the tot in the pocket of his aprons while cooking meals for the teens. Rub the tot over the pocket fabric to soothe the sweet little thing and practice his chirps. He’d more than likely keep the tot with him at all times as a possessive kind of way because such a small, fragile little one shouldn’t be left alone for even a second. The Hamato family do not like this because they don’t get a chance to coo and shower the tot in their affections. He would end up spending less time at Big Mama’s and would never dare bring the tot to work.

Reunion would talk a lot to the tot—and I mean a lot. The Hamatos would often find Reunion on his belly talking to the tot to sleep. Then someone would ruin the moment reminding him he has to go back to his timeline, and he would try to sneak the tot back to his timeline. But when he talks to the tot, he pets the little one’s head and share whatever’s on his mind—even things that are troubling him that no one else knows. That small little turtle probably knows secrets about the future that would endanger the world if they could share what they heard.

LCD would be very against even going near the tot. He’d think he’d smear the tot with the “blood” on his hands and thinks he doesn’t deserve to get to know the turtle tot. He’ll eventually meet the tot when little Leon tries to track him down only to get ambushed by some Hidden City crooks. His hands would shake as he holds the tot in the palms of his hands, frozen where he stands because he’s afraid of hurting the little one. And then he would quickly return the tot to little Leon and run away. From then on, LCD would stay within a closer perimeter to the teens when they visited the Hidden City with the turtle tot. —to make sure they’re all safe, of course, not because he wants to see more of the adorable little tot whose cheeks look so pinchable.

WDS would play the most with the tot. And the ghosty bros would very much bother WDS for not being a few steps away because they can’t see the tot without him. He’d be on the floor under the heat lamp with the tot, letting his body be a mountain or playground for the little one. His carapace would be a tough hill to climb or his fake snoring would be small quakes, his prosthetic hand is a freezing monster hand that would pick up the tot and “eat” them. The turtle tot would love to chirp at WDS who would chirp back and get laughed at by his ghosty bros for not doing it right. I can see the tot sleeping on WDS’s face after a hard day of play and that would render him unmoving for the rest of the day—eventually he would fall asleep too.

(Now I can’t get it out of my head… cute little turtle tot chirping and scurrying around the floors like a gremlin hahah)

#rottmnt #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #rottmnt future leo #dead man’s deal #reunion #leonardo come down #whispers of distant souls #nani nonny answers #turtle tot #nonny peepaws #nonny’s corner of the peepaw multiverse #tiny tot shenanigans #turtle tot shenanigans

[sonickedtrowel]

last 10 fics

rules: post the first lines of your last 10 fics posted to ao3. if you have less than 10 fics posted, post the first lines of all your fics.

Tagged by @goldheartedchaoticdisaster, thank you!  And I’m just gonna let you know right now that I take a notoriously liberal interpretation of “first lines” because I can’t live without context.  Lines, paragraphs... who are we to say, really, what is a line? 

1. the sun isn't only sinking fast, every night knows how long it's supposed to last

Mendorax Dellora

(human colony)

Christmas Day

5343

Having a person erased from your memory, it turned out, was extremely unpleasant.  The Doctor’s head was a mess, even by his own generous standards, and every miserable effect was closely chased by the more-miserable thought that he deserved it, for having done it before.  For Donna.  For having been ready, still, to do it again.

2. though we cannot make our sun stand still, yet we will make him run

“I've been sending out a message.  A distress call.  Outside the bubble of our time, the universe is still turning, and I've sent a message everywhere.  To the future and the past, the beginning and the end of everything.  ‘The Doctor is dying.  Please, please help.’”

For just a moment, his eyebrows lifted and the corner of his mouth turned up.  It was a shame, really, that she couldn’t enjoy him being impressed with her.  A second later his eyes screwed shut as he seemed to physically shake himself out of it.  

3. can’t help pollen in love

“Artemisia?” the Doctor read aloud, flicking through the very pink, glossy leaflet River had presented him with.  “Why do I know that name?”

“I can’t imagine you’ve been,” River replied as she circled the console and fired up the controls.  “Of course, if I’m wrong, I’ll need details.”

“Gentileschi!” he cried, snapping his fingers in revelation.  “Brilliant painter.  I should introduce you, you’d definitely get on.”

“Delightful as that sounds, I think you’d prefer we make this trip without the extra company.  Of course, if I’m wrong…”

4. I don’t wanna run, just overwhelm me

Looking back, it was hard for the Doctor to say exactly when he’d stopped running.  The grief and resentment he’d been nursing since their first meeting had given way, little by little, to a terrifying thrill in the pit of his stomach.  It was that magnetic pull; the undeniable certainty that he was colliding with his future each time he crossed paths with River Song.  

Adrenaline spiked through his veins at the first syllable from her lips, her warm voice so smugly suggestive he suspected she wasn’t buying his feigned ignorance one bit.  She was utterly infuriating.  Infuriating, and brilliant and mad and funny and brave and kind, and she knew everything he’d ever been and had seen everything he would become.  

5. there is a love I reminisce

Being called upon by UNIT to clear up some extra-temporal alien mess or another wasn’t completely out of the ordinary for River.  Jack wasn’t always easy to get in touch with, and the Doctor, for all his many wonderful qualities, was not what anyone would call reliable.  And while UNIT did (in an extremely top-secret capacity of which no one, including their own tactical assets, was meant to be any the wiser) possess means of time travel, River was fairly certain she’d “accidentally” left their vortex manipulator knackered enough after the last time she’d borrowed it as to have rendered it basically useless.  To them, anyway.  She could always fix it up if she needed a spare.

So when the odd request from Kate arrived, if it really sounded like something they couldn’t handle on their own, she usually popped by to lend a helping hand (or staser, or what-have-you.)  This time, the message simply read:

Come and fetch your husband.

6. someday you’ll call my name

“I’m sure I’ve got an umbrella somewhere,” the Doctor called over his shoulder as he opened the TARDIS door.  In contrast to the blinding sunlight of the beach, the dim console room was a haze of greenish obscurity.

“I’m sure you have,” Liv shouted after him, “just don’t get lost looking for it!”

“I don’t get lost in my own TARDIS!” he shot back, just as the door swung shut, leaving him in darkness.  “I… get distracted.”

He navigated past the console mostly by memory, making a mental note to add sunglasses to the requisition list as he went, and only briefly snagged his foot on a rug.  He’d steadied himself against the opening of the corridor and was just beginning to regain some of his vision when the ringing of the telephone cut through the quiet control room.

7. then hold my memory

The plan had been dancing lessons; that’s all.  A swanky party with some of Hollywood’s lesser elite, where she’d cast a long shadow in the room, but wouldn’t chance running into any of Rita’s closer acquaintances.  She’d charm him into a dance or two— it was only the rumba.  What would be the harm?  But she couldn’t risk anything more with the psychic wimple in place.  If he saw through it, what then?  There was something about the thought of wiping this one’s memories that made her hearts twist in her chest.  He’d had enough of that already without her help.

But then they’d staggered away from the dance floor, giddy and grinning, and he placed a gentle hand on her back as he fell into step beside her.  His blue eyes were bright when she stole a glance his way and found him already watching her.  The breathless delight on his face was just too much to resist.

Oh, to hell with it.

8. the Furies my one abandoned WIP, so I like to forget this exists!! ugh!! the shame!!!!

The Doctor let out a heavy breath, slumping back against the outer wall of Clara’s block.  His coat snagged on the concrete, the gritty surface digging painfully into his fingertips as he mindlessly reached for some tactile distraction.  Clara was safe in her flat, with a pile of biscuits and a cup of tea that would surely be cold when she woke waiting on her bedside table.  It was, quite literally, the very least he could do for the girl who’d just rescued him by leaping into his timestream and scattering echoes of herself across infinity.  She deserved better, but for now, she’d be fine in the morning.

He dragged a shaking hand across his face as another wave of grief crashed over him without warning, crushing the air from his lungs.  He’d struggled for so long to get above water, but then he saw her, he spoke to her, he held her and kissed her and told her goodbye and now he was drowning, drowning, drowning.

9. a first time for everything kids we’re travelling dangerously far back in time now I fear we’re entering the suburbs of cringetown

The Doctor scowled down at the console.  He’d dropped Amy and Rory back to their wedding night, promising them no further attempts at a honeymoon outing.  Honestly, he didn’t know what they were making such a fuss about.  He’d been in loads of spaceship crashes; even died in one.  Ships that didn’t hit the ground didn’t even rate on the list.

Well, so much for having company to distract him.  The party was still going, though!  Back here on the night of the 26th of June, when the universe was brand new again… He could just pop back in right after they’d left.  Right after…

“No, but was that yes, or yes?”

“Yes.”

10. The Second Date

River’s senses prickled the moment she turned the key in the lock.  Her very first day moving in, and already they’d sent someone after her?  She didn’t exactly know to expect them; the memories were all a blur, really.  But she’d been trained to kill the Doctor, and, well, she had done, but rather more briefly than she supposed her former keepers had intended.  She was certain they’d be coming round at some point to rectify the situation.

Good.  She’d get a good look at them, finally, and they’d get the last look of their lives.

In one fluid motion, she threw open the door, dropped the little box of her belongings to the floor and levelled her gun into the room.

“River!” the Doctor cheered.  She froze.

PHEW not even gonna guess how much broken formatting or links made it in there but I did my best.  Tagging!!!! @xhellnhighheelsx @regalpotato @mnemosyne-musing @artemisery (YES YOU!!!) @diaryofriversong @mygalfriday (I know you haven’t been around Pam but WE MISS YOU!) and literally if you’re reading this and you write fic i am tagging you i just cant remember more usernames i have pneumonia. lol i’m gonna go lie down for 800 years.  or for one standard earth night until the crack of 7am, as it happens in reality.

#fic #the doctor/river song #river song #what is anything #idek #thank you for the tag though!

[incarnateirony]

You notice a theme about all the art they're doing lately? This time it's crowley in tinted sunglasses. like. there's a theme here they're choosing not to notice. You guys are trying to avoid me, I can see that, but like. Buddy, you worked on this picture how long without noticing.

[just sighs and points at the last few nights of threads] yeah, good luck guys, you're gonna need it. Enjoy your divorce death egg manifestation that yet again overlaps command timing in rocker jacket and tinted sunglasses again but ok

10th house lilith, you deadass bound your people to me.

nono, really. Since I haven't had my hair that long in ages, just knockoff the back drape of hair. Look familiar? Wonder why. Idk whatever. Nothing means anything and if she delusions hard enough I'll stop.

Notice the wording though "interpretation of". Her cult is backing up. It's interpretations of, like fictional literature or something. They sure are interpreting something, they just have no idea what it is.

It was never about something any of them believe in. It's a game they've all played on themselves. A little cult of psychotic sycophants encouraging a schizoid to suck off and harass her ex for years, believing in nothing actually, playing interpretation like they're tumblr arguing meta and not living a path. And encouraging her to charge people for her own regressive nega-therapy they wholly feel entitled to fictionalize however they want.

I told you from the beginning, they're all roleplaying, and lost the line on where their roleplays end and reality begins... except no. Really, I think, Shea is the only one, and maybe Mark from living with her. I really don't think the others believe in a goddamn thing. They're ~interpreting random things.

Sure are, kids.

See, what Shealyn isn't confessing to you guys, is there used to be a day where you didn't ~interpret shit, he would just show up, in different forms appropriate to his local guests and environment, and nobody had to Belief or Interpret. They would talk about or render an actual encounter that happened, without having to pass through your vampiric narwhal. Actually most would have "nonononono I don't want to start seeing things" breakdowns, but that's stories for another time. Like who the fuck is on your porch, nobody's there, there's nobody where they could go. Why the fuck did I see a real Xelloss at this convention. And most of all, why does Coyote insist his ass looks better than Shealyn's in this dress back in 2013?

The only thing her dipshit ass should have been interpreting is the basics of shadows, or mercury and reflection itself, and that I was always the one making Coyote, projecting my bullshit, at him, and back at myself, somewhat warped through his dissonance but me no less, calling myself home, and now, ripping her and you guys off of me, no matter how many retarded colors you put my sunglasses in for my PERSONA rather than my YELLOW EYED SHADOW. Yeah guys they're like two for one at america's best

Word choice tells you everything about someone.

Belief. Interpret. Perform. These are things you do with fiction or things you do not understand. They are gestures that you make to fulfill a perceived thing, usually a play, movie, or whatever. If any of them saw or interacted with these things looking like this in front of them, they wouldn't be Interpreting shit.

Hell even strong mental images that they held in a way they possessed as their own rather than something subtly external. They'd say "here's how I see Loki." They are fully aware they are calling from the outside. They just see the outside as fictional.

Will. Work. Act. Be. Method. Meaning. Law. Function. These are things that are being done and perfected, enacted and studied, it requires no belief, it simply is.

Words mean everything.

[vitos-ordination-song]

Ian just became too much the focus of the story I feel. I wanted it to be Jeremy’s story—I would have been happier had it gone the FWWM route and Jeremy had suffered and died alone. Seriously. Bc then at least it would have been on his own terms. Maybe this sounds bad but I think it would have been better if he’d been left alone in Boston. When Ian first went after him it felt like a relief. I really believed that Ian was trying to care and reach out. But no.

It’s not just that Ian is selfish I think—it’s also that he had no idea what the fuck he was doing and he was not qualified to help someone like Jeremy. He made things worse over and over.

If I was in Jeremy’s position, I would have self-destructed out of spite, and honestly he did do that at times. Like, not only can you say that Ian doesn’t get it, but the man also hits Jeremy and sleeps with him and pays him like he’s a prostitute. I don’t care if Jeremy was seductive or if he asked for it or anything else—Ian was capable of not engaging or walking away or hell, giving up on Jeremy. You can’t force these things. I feel like Dr. Olsen was the only character in the entire work who got that.

And like, I don’t really see the Ian/Jeremy dynamic as equal, where both parties are just as manipulative and toxic and abusive. Jeremy never wanted to be hit; he often wasn’t in the right state of mind to be kissing; he was clearly using the relationship as a way to punish himself. On the other hand Ian entered a cycle of abusive/controlling behavior, self-justification, possessiveness, etc., and then he’d feel bad and try to help Jeremy, but he never STOPPED til the very end. I can’t feel glad this character has decided to take off his father’s mask when he’s just gonna put it on again.

I don’t like the mixing of care and abuse. It frightens me even more than the pure sadism of Greg. And my question is, am I supposed to see Ian as a better option? Are Jeremy and Ian less of a dirty secret? Why is Jeremy looked at as if he’s always doing something Just As Bad by being a prostitute and drug user. I mean, Gilbert was a very complicated character who actively did harm others—but because Jeremy’s life was founded on love and sacrifice, he imploded inward, choosing to harm himself and not others as much as possible.

The end of the work didn’t give me the impression that the story was about how a boy ended up in a bad relationship with the son of the man who sadistically abused him. It gave me the impression I was supposed to be glad these ~two broken people~ still hang out and do romantic stuff even if they probably won’t fuck anymore. I might have been okay with that. I think a story about two boys who end up in an unhealthy quasi-incestuous relationship but chose to stop their sexual contact as they mature could be interesting. But I never felt like Ian crossed the threshold of actual love for Jeremy—unselfish concern for his well-being. It was always about what Ian wanted.

I strongly disliked The Kite Runner, which I read in high school, for similar reasons. In that book, a privileged boy turns a blind eye to his childhood friend’s rape and even takes part in the other boy’s torment. I found the writing gripping and read it all in one day, only to be left disappointed. I related to the main character, but the work ultimately rendered him unlikable. He learns that that other boy was his half brother who his father shafted bc he was illegitimate; he’s told that his friend and brother had forgiven him before dying; and he’s told that he’s been given a perfect chance to redeem himself—save his nephew from abuse. As a teenager with regrets, I was immediately like, of course you would want to take that chance! But the main character had to be bitched into it, did it reluctantly, complained, but because he sorta tried I’m supposed to find him a good guy at the end??? (Also the plot is very stupid.)

With Ian, it’s personal for me lol. For one thing I was a favorite child of my father and had many an opportunity to turn a blind eye to that. I was the little princess as a small child, loved while others were abused. I have adopted siblings. I’ve seen some really fucked up stuff happen to other people. I’ve had to decide between abusive parents and siblings. I’ve had to decide whose narrative I accept. I’ve had to try to help someone when it is not easy at all. I’ve been tempted to do the wrong thing, including sexual harm to others. And I decided from age 13 that I would kill myself before I touched a child or anyone against their will. It was something I was so terrified of doing because it was a reality I was hyper aware of before I even developed a sex drive. And I’ve done things to people that I can’t take back, but I have to the best of my abilities apologized for things and tried to change my ways and reduced contact with people who will harm me or people I may harm, while still trying to mend gaps when I can. I can’t forgive people like Ian. I can’t forgive the weakness and the selfishness. I don’t care if he did anything good.

Another comparison point is Koe no Katachi. That story is a romance between a bullying victim and their former bully. The bully character suffers and bears the full responsibility for his past actions, even if he wasn’t the only one at fault at the time. The way he makes up to the girl he used to bully is by actually being there for her! Him no longer abusing her is treated as the bear minimum and he actually has to prove himself and love her as an equal! I know that Jeremy is a really messed up person and is not easy to help, but if Ian couldn’t handle it, he has money. If you want to say that Jeremy would have died on his own, and so Ian was justified in forcing things, okay, but why not just pay for Jeremy to have a decent life? If he actually cared why would he let himself be provoked? Why does he never deescalate?

It’s making me think of this one documentary called Healing Homes which looked at a therapy program where troubled individuals were placed w a farm family and had a therapist in tandem. A family interviewed had a girl who would get violent and flipped a table. You can’t just ignore someone in a state like that. It’s possible for someone going thru distress to be a threat to themselves or others. What the mother of the family did was grab the girl and forcibly hold her down til she stopped struggling, told her to stop in a commanding but not hurtful way, and then tried to get through to her emotionally, with care. You know what Ian did half the time? Start treating Jeremy the exact way his father did!! That’s fine as a storytelling choice but don’t tell me it’s love! And it’s so crazy in a story which is otherwise v astute on these issues! What happened there?

[thedreadvampy]

Former sex worker because you were literally so bad.... not surprised....

AHH oof ouch you got me. truly you have crushed my spirit by *checks notes* repeating back a fact about myself that I freely revealed and joked about. better go cry the big man's got me 😢

#nah mate i wasn't surprised either #it's a hard job you see #takes some skills i do not possess #marketing mostly #it was stressful and anxiety inducing for me doing customer service work and that comes across!!! #people don't. LIKE to feel like you're having a Bad Time talking to them so they'll go see someone else #you know ultimately sex work like waiting tables or working in McDonald's was a bad match for me and that is all the way fine #because I'm very good at my current job managing comms for political charities #I was excellent at my last job organising events #I'm just not a good front line worker because i get stressed and panicky dealing with a lot of customers #we all have different skills! #i feel like you're trying to insinuate that I'm ugly or bad at sex which a) i actually have the opposite problem #i cannot stop men '''''falling in love'''''' with me and getting possessive/acting like creepers/trying to talk shit about my partners #and b) like uhhhhhhh does being you and bad at sex render my opinions stupider or less thought through? #i mean John Ruskin basically invented the celebrity art critic and he looked like a potato and was terrified of naked women so 🤷‍♀️ #I MEANT TO TYPE UGLY NOT YOU STUPID PHONE KEYBOARD #i don't know you idk if you're bad at sex #don't care it's not my business cause I'm not gonna fuck you

[powdermelonkeg]

So, BO2W Breakdown

Buckle up, this is gonna be a long one.

Here we’ve got Ganon’s...energy taking over Link’s arm. Ordinarily, I’d call it Malice, but based on what it turns into, I’m just going to be calling it corruption. We don’t get much information from this scene besides this expression:

Link’s grabbing the corruption with his other hand, and wincing. It looks painful. I personally think it’s for cinematic effect that it was included, but it COULD be a gateway into a Phantom Hourglass sort of mechanic--Link has to function on a time limit, or using the corruption’s power could drain his life.

Next we’ve got a closeup of Ganondorf. F in chat to the rehydration theorists.

And the closeups of his jewelry. The only significant thing I can see is his necklace, which looks like a cross between the Gerudo symbol and a Fleur de Lis:

But what I’M most interested in is this tie on his belt:

For one, it’s WAY bigger than it needs to be, and that’s deliberate. Ganondorf’s got a jewelry aesthetic he’s already hit above; everything else is gold, why not this bit?

Most importantly, you can barely make it out, but the designs either look Sheikah or Zonai--they’ve got that same kind of swirly busy pattern to them. The red tint and tan-ish lines in it makes me think it’s possessed Sheikah tech.

Next, we’re shown Zelda falling. This looks like it happens right after these two caps from the first trailer:

So we reach for her as the ground collapses, and evidently, we fail to pull her back up. So my next question for that scene is going to be what the in-game reason is for us not diving in right after her. Maybe we won’t get one, since the appeal of the original BOTW was that you could fight Ganon whenever you wanted.

Up next, we’ve got a skydiving shot:

The first thing to notice is that Link’s pose while skydiving is just about identical to his pose in Skyward Sword:

Second is that, yes, he’s falling towards a floating island, and that in itself is noteworthy, but he’s FALLING. There’s something either above him that he jumped off of, or a force that carried him high enough TO fall, and I doubt Nintendo’s encouraging magnesis flying.

So, there’s a few options: Loftwings making a return (which is unlikely, but a hope I have), something like Revali’s Gale boosting Link up for a cinematic shot, indicating that the corruption arm has that kind of power, or islands higher than the one shown here.

Now the island itself:

In Skyward Sword, Skyloft looks like this:

And (spoiler alert) we loose this island here over the course of the game:

Now, it’s not a PERFECT 1:1 match, as most things between games aren’t, but a quick rotate and overlay shows it’s got the same kinds of shapes between the two. The same “W” shape along the eastern side, the same tiny island off the northeast point, the same relative edges.

Now, I don’t know what happened to the plaza at South Skyloft, or the Knight’s Academy isle, but it could very easily be drift away from the central island.

The presence of other islands through the clouds seems to support that theory. Now let’s look at Link here:

The outfit is new. We haven’t, to my knowledge, seen one of this design in other games. My gut reaction to this image was “oh, we go back in time and we’re the first hero now!” because it’s vaguely reminiscent of Tapestry Hero.

But upon closer inspection, that theory’s null and void. Under Link’s tunic in the image above, you can see that he’s still wearing the shorts he woke up in in the first game. So either Sheikah boxers haven’t changed in 10,000 years, or it’s taking place in present day. Jokes aside, I’m curious to know if the outfit he’s wearing is modeled after Tapestry Hero.

Next thing to point out is the obvious:

Link’s arm here looks less prosthetic and more...withered, I almost want to say. The corruption here’s made his hand look frailer, and armored them up with Zonai patterns before it fades out at his shoulder. Based on how the tattoos look, I think they’re an artifact of the corruption taking hold.

Also, the belt here:

Aesthetic purposes, or specific function? The presence of the second, smaller one on the side reminds me of Skyward Sword’s adventure pouch, which could be how the new game handles inventory size:

Next we’ve got another flying shot:

It seems like he’s flying towards Ruined Skyloft, and you can see the bottoms of islands above it, possibly meaning that the sky serves as more than just a hub world like it did in Skyward.

Now let’s look at the paraglider he’s using. It’s new.

This is how the paraglider looks in the original BOTW. It looks like we still have the Rito symbol in the center, but other than that, there’s a LOT of changes here.

First off is the color. We’re now blue and gold. The shade of blue makes me think of the Kochi Dye Shop’s navy blue:

So, possibly a dyeable paraglider?

The new pattern surrounding the Rito symbol makes me think that it’s combining the paraglider with Skyward Sword’s sailcloth:

Other than that, there isn’t much else to say about the paraglider besides the handles looking like they’re made of bone. Craftable paragliders? God, I hope not.

Back to Link:

Here we have him in different gear than the last shot. He’s wearing the snow boots, he has a shield with a stylized Eye of Truth looking upwards, and he looks like he’s carrying a traveler’s sword and an unknown bow. The presence of the bow makes me think that the shield here is a lower tier item, rather than this game’s Hylian Shield equivalent.

Now, let’s get a better look at the horizon:

The trees here look a lot like the smaller trees you can find in Akkala, but there’s a distinct lack of red among them.

Then it looks like we’ve got some ruins at the furthest isle.

Whatever the rock formations are over there, they don’t LOOK natural.

Another thing I noticed is the bottoms of the islands.

These look a little too geometric to be natural, too. Now, this one, I’m a little muddy on, because it COULD be a stylistic choice. But it also reminds me of the Shrines if you clip out of bounds:

And a little bit of the dormant Gate of Time from Skyward:

My money’s on the cube-like nature of the islands’ undersides being deliberate, rather than just a far-off render.

And then there’s this thing!

What is it? It doesn’t look broken at all; look how nicely the roof(?) is kept. The ribbing on the sides makes me think it might be a Zonai thing, but the shape makes it difficult to figure out. A giant temple? An airship? A sloped coliseum? This thing haunts and vexes me.

Our next shot is presumably from one of the islands, based on the color. Here we can see that there are definitely ruins all over the place. Link is in the same gear as before, so I won’t touch on him.

This, however, has my interest. The design here has more geometric patterns--Zonai ruins?

We’ve got another one off in the distance here. Sky checkpoints, like Sheikah towers?

Now this guy here. There’s a LOT to look at. First off is the eye design, it’s the same sort of upward looking one that Link has on his shield in the previous shots.

The energy that’s pulling this thing towards its base looks like the same green energy that surrounds the arm holding Gan in place in Trailer One:

This stuff. That, plus the fact that the robot has to be pulled into its base rather than just existing, implies that either A: Link activates it himself, like a trial thing, or B: that the green energy here functions in the same way Malice does in the original BOTW.

This pattern at its base is intriguing, too. I don’t recognize the gold symbol in the center, but the green around it reminds me of the portals from Twilight Princess.

Which, yes, everyone’s already said that the Twilight Princess patterns look like Zonai things. But another thing this weird dial thing reminds me of is from Lanayru Desert:

On top of that, the color palette of this guy looks like that of the Lanayru Robots from Skyward:

BO2W robot on the left, Lanayru robot on the right. Given that Skyward is a lot more vibrant than other non-Toon Zelda games, I think this is a fair enough comparison to draw similarities from.

And then we get a closer view of the sky ruins from the last shot. I don’t know if the geometric pattern in the corner is a deliberate carving, or wear from time, but since the pattern looks ALMOST mirrored around the corner, I’m going to go with the former.

A better shot a few frames later. The robot has HANDS, which I do not like in any way shape or form. However, we get a better look at the sky ruins.

We haven’t seen this style of stairs before, to my knowledge. The pedestal out front looks like a light source, and it has the same floral egg thing the robot above has on each shoulder; the eggs could easily be a power source for Zonai tech. And at the top of the stairs, we see a pedestal, backing up the theory that these ruins function as our new Sheikah towers.

This is our next shot. Which...

Unikoblins. Can we talk about that? UNIKOBLINS.

Anyways, Link is here again in his old clothes. This is a very early game shot, because his right arm isn’t corrupted yet; this means we get to explore Hyrule before we embark on the main quest. Which gives rise to a question: Where’s Zelda?

The hopeful side of me wants to say that she’s a tutorial companion, like Navi or Tatl, at least for the beginning here. The pessimistic side of me thinks that she’s waiting for us at a predetermined location, and this is just part of getting to her.

Now the unikoblin structure itself is built on a Talus, meaning that the dev team at least intends to have more inter-monster interactions. But if you kill the Talus, does that mean that the base falls apart, or does it just drop down as a separate entity?

Also, what are these background ruins? The one on the left looks like it’s a distinctly different style than the one on the right. It looks almost like a giant guardian arm.

Our next shot is Link’s arm getting corrupted. Which, first of all, the effects look beautiful.

Now, we can see a corner of Link’s hip here, and we know that this is his right arm. So Link’s lying down here. Unconscious? Knowing how Zelda games like to start with Link waking up, probably. Although it looks like at least part of his shorts got an update.

We can see what looks like circuits here. It looks a bit like the electricity puzzles you can find in the Divine Beasts and Shrines in the original.

Then we’ve got these strange symbols.

Whatever this circular stone he’s lying on is, it looks a lot like the Zonai puzzle from the “A Fragmented Monument” sidequest.

This one that everyone thought was the Mirror of Twilight for years.

Our next shot is Link using the corruption powers against enemies:

The spike ball itself looks solid; the question is, is this a duplication power, or a visualization of how the spike ball is set into motion?

We see it barreling over a poor Unikoblin or two, but I’d like to turn your attention to the Moblin and the background.

The moblins here have helmets, and the bases, while they carry the same design, look like they have more cause and effect in mind. The left base’s rock, for instance; that’s a lot bigger than the rocks we got to play with in the last game, and it looks like we can barrel anything in the screen over with it.

The helmet, though, concerns me a little bit. It looks natural rather than forged; like it’s the moblin’s horn, just very much deformed. Does it mean a harder enemy, or is it just for flavor?

Our next shot is this strange flower thing. Note that Link’s right arm is perfectly fine in this shot, meaning that it’s still early game.

This is what Link’s flamethrower looks like. And this:

Is Zonai art.

So the question is, what IS the flamethrower? My first thought was that it’s either a new item in its own, or it’s a Sheikah Slate upgrade. The latter might sound a little far fetched, but Link in this game is right-handed, and in BOTW, he always held the slate in his LEFT hand when using it.

We have more of the weird faded designs that we saw on the Sky ruins:

And we’ve got some kind of pedestal or stage behind the ground flower thing:

It looks like it’s either an altar or a grave, from what I can tell. The stairs aren’t the same design as the ones in the sky, and there aren’t any patterns on it.

More importantly, though, is that this place is underground. This could be a part of the game you’re required to go through, in order to get to Raisin Gan.

A few seconds later, though, we get our answer to what the flamethrower is!

It’s a shield!

Off to the left side, we can see pillars with more weird scribblings towards the top. These match the Sky ruins’ pillar shape, with a narrow base and a wider top.

Our next scene is...weird.

We see a puddle splash in reverse. It’s hard to tell if it’s actually water or not, but the design on the ground implies that it’s either been there for a long time, or that that’s a dedicated splash spot. And the quality and zoom makes me think that this is part of a cutscene. Return of the timeshift stones?

We then see Link...surfacing out of the island? I don’t know how else to describe it. However, his arm is changed again, and glowing, meaning that this is a corruption power. And the “water” he rises out of here looks a lot like the puddle in the last clip.

We get a good look at the Zonai Lights:

A Sky ruin that looks like it contains a room:

And a glimpse of other isles’ ruins in the far distance.

And then as the camera zooms out...

We can place a location!

We’re right over Thundra Plateau!

We also get a mildly better look at the back wall of the sky ruin, which looks to be some kind of table:

The next scene is Hyrule Castle:

The ground shakes and it starts to rise up. However, notice that the columns surrounding the castle are now missing.

We’ve also got red sparks in the air, like we would have in a blood moon. However, due to the sky color, we can assume that this is a conscious decision by Gan himself, and that he isn’t drawing power from his surroundings.

We then see that power bleeding out of the ground. It’s MUCH more red than Malice is, which has always been a kind of burnt pink-ish color.

However, even though Ganon lifts the castle up, he doesn’t lift it very high.

The castle’s about triple the height it was. But since we’re talking Skyloft levels of floating islands, this is still pretty ground-level. What’s interesting to me, though, is that in this shot, despite the game now being about sky islands that we should be able to see from ground level...there aren’t any here. This, to me, means that there’s going to be a sudden appearance of the isles in the sky, rather than them simply being accessible now.

And that’s the whole trailer! I have many questions.

My blog! If you have any opnions/questions/theories, feel free to drop an ask!

Part 2 is up! We missed a lot!

#botw #botw2 #bo2w #the breath just got wilder #breakdown #analysis #e3 #trailer #theory #zelda #loz #nintendo

[sweetdreamsbuck]

How do you think lee would react to the probably inevitable day he couldn’t zip that damn sexy leather jacket up?

ohmygoshohmygoshOHMYGOSH!!!!!!🥺 (got carried away with this. i've had an awful day and i'd kill to take care of my Sheriff)

have some angst and fluff!! tiny bit of suggestive language— Sheriff x Princess. you know i can't get enough of these two

Lee felt distraught— and so ashamedly flustered from being upset by it. He doesn't ever want Princess seeing him so disheveled, so unkempt and so ill-fitted for his usual controlled and steady demeanor. But his appearance and image is a sensitive topic for him— especially when Princess is the only one who's ever made him feel like something worth looking at.

Everyone’s always respected him because of his terrifying stature— because of the menacing scowl he wears and the badge sitting pretty just below it, but not Princess.

His Princess has always made him feel respected out of overwhelming love and the desire to cherish the man receiving it.

You feel it before you see it, his sour and defeated attitude permeating the air with distain. Lee's stomping back and forth in the hallway, flushed with anxiety and concern over something so simple— frustrated and beyond worked up over the reality that the sides of his zipper won't meet or how the sleeves of his jacket restrict his strong arms from their once agile movement. But that's not what does him in. He looks up, angered sadness and pain set deep in the crevices of his face and sees you.

His Princess. The one he's meant to be strong for; always present and eager to provide for; always protective and bridled with a heated possession; the one he's only ever meant to suffocate with an unwavering duty to love. Not this; never this. You can't see him like this.

He breaks.

The first time he's ever let a tear fall in front of his angel. "'M sorry Princess. Don't want ya seein' me this way." he harshly chokes out, a large hand moving quickly to wipe the falling tear, hoping he'd caught it in time before you could see it.

Of course you saw it. You can never take your eyes off of him, what would make now any different? When have you ever let your sheriff be so hard on himself?

"Lee Bodecker, cut that out right now. don't hide anything from me. What's got you all upset like this hmm?" you coo, your fingers instinctively finding their favorite place resting atop the buttons adorning his belly. "Talk to me... please" you whisper lovingly into the soft curve of his jaw.

"Damn jacket don't fit no more. How'm I meant to do my job providin' for my baby if I can't even fit my clothes? How can ya wanna be with me, Princess? I look-"

You cut him off in a bruising kiss, one that renders the world still for a moment, all the air dissipating within the atmosphere and leaving you to choke in only the breath of each other. A stray tear drips from Lee’s tightly closed lashes, falling intimately between your lips and turning the moment into a striking realization for Lee. You've never once let him feel any less than yours, why would you change your mind now that he can't get his old jacket to close?

"Jackets are meant to be grown out of, Lee. Just means i'm keeping my strong man full and satisfied," you quip, his favorite smirk of yours tugging at your lips as you scratch playfully at his belly.

Your hands make their way to the lapels of his jacket, slowly removing the garment one shoulder at a time. "I'm gonna run down to the store and get you a brand new one. Maybe a few different colors... nothing sexier than my Sheriff in leather," you whisper, placing a few soft nibbles into the side of his jaw. "And then we'll have to break them in, won't we?" he nods his head bashfully thinking back to the first day he came home wearing his new jacket; how wild your eyes got drinking in the sight of him before you pounced.

"Besides... always wanted to steal this and keep it all for myself. Need everyone to know who I belong to; only ever want them to see me wearing my sheriff's jacket. Maybe that little secretary of yours will finally stop eyeing you up and down all the time... bitch." you mutter, feigned annoyance laced in your confession.

His eyes widen, face softening in delight as his eyebrows kiss the hairline your fingers love to tease so much, "I know my sweet lil' Princess didn' jus' use a dirty word like that..." he meekly chuckles. "Jacket's all yours, babygirl. Ya always jus' know what to say, huh?" with an accepting shake of his head and a tearful blink of his bright eyes, his lips reach for yours in grounding desperation.

Maybe it was the way every word you spoke seemed to rouse yet tame even the most dormant parts of him.

Perhaps, it was the gleam in your eye as you drowned him with your devotion— the heartfelt adoration vibrant inside each breath, in every tease of a finger, in each blink of your brilliant eyes and intoxicating air of laughter.

He needed you, he longed for you.

His hands trail the expanse of your back as his mouth claims yours, moving possessively around you to cling at your hips, needing to keep you tightly against the soft bulge of his stomach as he lets his worry melt at your embrace. "Forgot my baby's sucha dirty girl" he mumbles breathlessly against you, playfully biting at your lower lip when you groan and squint your eyes in response.

"You're the best thing to ever happen to me— beyond perfect for me, Lee. You know this tummy drives me wild. You've got the sexiest arms I've ever had the pleasure of seeing... and don't get me started on those damn cheeks," you angle his face down closer to yours, two lingering kisses pressed into the warm apples of his cheeks. He quietly laughs at your actions, a soft blush dusting his face as he tries to meet your adoring gaze. "Oh these, too..." you deadpan, quickly moving your hands to pinch at his round bottom. Laughing loudly— a real belly laugh you wish he'd let you hear more— he traps your wrists between his hands and removes them from his ass, hoisting you swiftly over his shoulder and jumping to move.

Running to the living room and throwing you against the couch, his world seems to slowly start turning again; the air sweetly returning to the surface and filling his lungs with you.

Your laughter and breathless chants of 'you're mine, Lee' dances radiantly through the air, the love and understanding steeping this moment you share well enough to warrant him unspoken reprieve.

If Lee was insecure about something, his Princess would be there to help him through it. Pulling you into his lap, he rests his head back against the pillows of the couch, your face fitting perfectly in the crook of his neck. "You're strong and soft and everything I need you to be and more," you whisper.

A comfort, a reassurance, an affirmation.

"I love ya— so goddamn much, Princess..." he sighs, another tear rolls past the corner of his bright blues, trailing down the cheek you love so much.

He lets your hand caress his face, the pad of your thumb smoothing away all evidence of there ever being a tear at all. Lee's eyes close in content, nuzzling his face into the palm of your delicate hand. He hums quietly, his lips moving ever so gently to press featherlight kisses into the skin there. "Can't wait to dress ya in my jacket... how've I not made ya do that before? You're never takin' that goddamn thing off. Understand me?"

xx

#lee bodecker #lee bodecker fluff #sheriff and his princess #sheriff lee bodecker x reader #lee bodecker x you #sheriff lee bodecker

[inkykeiji]

all she want is payback for the way i always play that shit

characters: dabi | todoroki touya

genre: smut + angst

notes: aaaah yikes, sorry it’s so long???? the first part of a companion piece to i can take you there but baby you wont make it back; touya + reader have been fooling around for just under six months, our innocent lil good girl reader is the teeniest, tiniest bit more firm now. jealousy makes people crazy, yk how it is. touya is marginally softer for like, a second or two. | title credit: save that shit by lil peep

warnings: 18+, pseudo-incest (stepcest), public sex, cheating, drug use, generally toxic relationship (possessiveness, jealousy), size difference, dubcon if u squint i guess???, the tiniest bit of cumplay

words: 11k

synopsis:

Why can’t you just be mine? You want to ask, the words searing into your tongue, refusing to leave your lips.

“You’re gonna make yourself sick, angel,” he chastises softly, brushing your hair away from your clammy forehead as another shuddery sob rips through your chest.

“I want you,” you say instead, words garbled.

“You have me, baby,”

“All of you,”

His chest heaves with an exasperated sigh, head turning away and gazing up at the ceiling. “You have all of me, princess,”

      ✰          ✰          ✰          ✰          ✰          ✰          ✰         

In early February, your parents finally tie the knot.

“Now it’ll be official,” you remember Touya whispering in your ear, the night before. “I will officially be your niichan,”

The wedding is gorgeous—elegant and classy, just like Rei herself. A wintertime wedding is so beautiful, you tell Rei as she’s busy being fawned over by several stylists, adding the finishing touches to her hair and make up. She’s absolutely stunning, a lacy ivory dress clinging delicately to her small frame, accentuating her natural curves. It glitters gracefully in the pale sunshine streaming through the large bay windows, sparkling any time she moves.

Touya doesn’t sit with his family. Their eyes sear into your flesh, although Touya keeps his stare pointedly in front of him, glaring at the alter. But you can feel their gaze on your skin, can feel their eyes travelling up your body slowly, critically, sending shivers skittering up your spine. It makes your skin crawl, both of your hands curling around Touya’s, a tangled knot of fingers resting in your lap.

You’ve never seen his other siblings before. Rei talks about them sometimes, but never when Touya’s around. You know that once every month, the three of them join Rei and your father for a family dinner, but you’ve never had the pleasure of attending.

You’d missed the first family dinner by fluke, held up late at the library studying for midterms. But every occasion after that, Touya had made absolute certain that you weren’t there. You hadn’t thought much of it the first time it happened, too enraptured and tangled up in Touya to care, grinding desperately against him in the backseat of his car as his tongue forced its way down your throat. But then it happens again, and again, and it becomes too coincidental to ignore.

“Why do we never go to those dinners with your siblings?” you’d tried to bring it up subtly the third time you guys skipped out on dinner, heart thudding in your chest and gentle voice quivering slightly.

Touya sighed, raking a hand through his hair roughly, eyes not straying from the road ahead of him. It’s complicated, he told you in a quiet voice, and you were so startled, so shocked by his sheer, unadulterated honesty, that you couldn’t find your voice, rendering you incapable of replying. Touya didn’t bother looking over at you, didn’t need to, to know that his response surprised you.

The other Todoroki’s are all strikingly beautiful—not that you expected any less. The one with pure snow-white hair and gunmetal grey eyes captures your attention the most, looking as if he’s around your age. He smirks at you when he catches your stare, giving you a small, polite nod—though you can see that tiny glint of mischief in his eye, the same glint you’ve seen in Touya’s a thousand times before. Choking on a surprised gasp, you rapidly avert your gaze, eyes snapping back to the pile of hands in your lap.

Touya notices, of course, because Touya notices everything. He doesn’t say anything, but his hand squeezes yours tightly, just a little too tight to be comforting, as his eyes dart to his siblings across the aisle, glare losing most of its heat when it meets his brother’s stare.

Tense shoulders relax, falling slowly with the measured breath he exhales as he turns back to glower at the alter.

You know other guests are staring at you—you can feel their eyes, too. You know the pair of you look more like a couple than siblings, know you should both probably put some distance between yourselves, at least try to keep some semblance of normalcy, some masquerade of a typical sibling relationship.

But Touya’s knee is bouncing, and he seems…unsure. It’s unsettling, really—Touya always seems so confident in himself—and you can almost feel the tense anxiety rolling off of him in heavy waves. So instead of scooting away from him or untangling your hands, your other palm finds a spot high on the thigh pressed tightly against yours, small fingers beginning to knead the flesh.

Sapphire eyes find yours, and he gazes down at you with an odd sense of fondness in his stare, the tiniest smile ghosting across his lips. It makes your chest swell with pride, makes you want to grab his face and crash his lips against yours, forces a tingling warmth to spread through your veins. It shouldn’t, but it does.

He barely lets you leave his side that day, keeps you glued to his body, an arm wrapped tightly around you. He’s a constant, looming, protective presence, glaring at anyone who dares to look at you for more than a second.

“Touya-nii,” you laugh a little while leaving the ceremony, watching as one of your cousins immediately averts their eyes. “That’s my cousin,”

“And I’m your brother,” he says flatly.

You suppose he has a point.

The two of you find your parents and the rest of Touya’s siblings—yours too, now, you guess—standing around a limousine, beckoning you over.

Rei begins to explain their protocol for pictures—and yes, you both have to come—but you aren’t listening. Their eyes are on you again, you can feel them, gliding up your skin, taking sharp note of the way Touya has you pressed flush against him, the way your arm is wrapped firmly around his waist, little fingers twisting in his suit jacket as your heart begins to speed up.

Touya can feel it, too, and he looks down at you in concern, his thumb caressing your shoulder, before he meets the stares of his siblings with a glare so ferocious you’re surprised it doesn’t turn them to ash on the spot.

They offer for you to ride in the limo with the rest of them, Touya cutting them off as he curtly declines their offer—no thanks, you’ll take his car instead and meet them there.

Rei tries to reason with him, but the pointed look he gives her causes her to trail off mid-sentence, holding his eyes for a moment before a sad smile settles on her face, nodding once.

       ✰          ✰          ✰

Shinjuku Gyoen is nothing short of stunning in the wintertime. It had snowed this morning, around six AM, blanketing the garden in a soft layer of pure white powder, glittering delicately in the early afternoon sun.

Wide eyes drink it in as your face presses against the glass of the car window, your breath fogging it up. There’s something so whimsical and dreamy about snow, you think, about the way it softens even the sharpest of edges, the way it makes everything look prettier.

“You’re so cute,” Touya remarks, watching you from the corner of his eye, a hint of teasing in his voice.

“I’ve never been here during the winter,” you murmur in response, still captivated by the grounds.

Rei and your father are immediately whisked away by several photographers to do their photos alone, leaving the rest of you to litter the parking lot.

But the moment they disappear from view, Touya’s got you trapped between his body and the cold metal of his car, lips moving against the shell of your ear as he whispers filthy promises, things that force soft whimpers from your lips, things that make your legs feel like they’re about to give out as heat pools deep in your belly. He knows, of course, smirks and teases you even more when he feels you squeeze your thighs together helplessly, tells you you’re his perfect little slut and vows to reward you for being so good as soon as he can.

His other siblings are staring, you try to tell him in a quiet, broken whine.

“Oh yeah?” he breathes, pushing his hips harder into yours, practically grinding his hard cock against your waist. “Let ‘em. I bet they’d love to watch me fuck you stupid, huh? What do you think about that, baby? You want them to watch?”

A pathetic sound hitches in your throat and you bury your burning face in his neck, a low, wicked laugh rumbling deep in his chest.

He doesn’t let up on the absolute filth spilling from his mouth until he can hear your father hollering in the distance, calling for the kids and waving the five of you over.

       ✰          ✰          ✰

Pictures take too long, and Touya’s antsy by the end of it, picking anxiously at his cuticles as his knee bounces. He’s hauling you out of there the moment you’re officially released, a strong hand wrapped tightly around your wrist. You can hear his mother calling for him, and you look back at her desperately, mirroring her worried frown.

He doesn’t even wait for the rest of them to pile into the limo and leave, immediately rooting through his pockets the moment he’s in the safety of his own car, pulling out a little baggie of white powder. He can feel your wide eyes on him, watching his every movement, but his hands are beginning to shake, and panic is starting to rip viciously at his throat, and he just needs it all to fucking stop.

“There’s no way I could endure this shit sober,” he explains as he searches for something in the powder, cursing when he doesn’t find whatever it is he’s looking for. Frantic cobalt eyes dart around the car, landing on the glovebox, and he leans over you, hastily pulling a reflective object from the compartment.

It’s a mirror.

A tiny, circular mirror that he uses to tap out a line, fingers unsteady and breathing slightly laboured. The gentle sounds of his platinum credit card colliding with glass echo throughout the car.

Hovering over the small mirror, he pauses, a finger pressed to his nostril. He almost wants to tell you to look away, almost does, but he knows you’d disobey either way.

He doesn’t like doing drugs in front of you—you’re too precious, too pure and innocent and he doesn’t want you around anything that could potentially tarnish that. But he also can’t stand that look you get in your eyes, almost like you’re scared of him, on the rare occasions that you have caught him.

He nearly snaps at you when you quietly ask if you can help, if he needs someone to hold the mirror steady, currently balancing on the center console compartment, but you’ve got that goddamn look in your eyes, wide and terrified.

No, he says sternly, telling you that he doesn’t even want you near this stuff, much less touching it.

But cocaine highs don’t last long, he explains to you when you ask about the little round white pills clacking together in his pocket. You’re positive he shouldn’t be mixing drugs like that, positive that your apprehension and disapproval are written clearly across your face, based on the simmering look he shoots at you.

Don’t fucking start.

So you don’t. You swallow down your worries and sit nice and pretty and good for him, just like you’re supposed to.

       ✰          ✰          ✰

He only leaves you twice, briefly, throughout the entire night. The first is almost immediately after you enter the reception venue.

Depositing you near the head table, he tells you to stay put before he hurries away. You know where he’s going, what he’s about to do, an odd ache taking root and throbbing deep in your chest.

He’d scold you if he could see you, able to read your expressions like a fucking book, would tell you not to cry for him—he doesn’t need your pity. The words cut through your mind in a snarl, and you work hard to rid your face of the frown marring it; he’s already having such a difficult time today, and the last thing you want to do is upset him more with your concern.

Distraction, you need a distraction. Wide eyes scan the extravagant ballroom, all shimmering golds and beiges and crystal chandeliers, searching in a frenzy for something—anything—to rid your mind of images of pretty boys with inky hair and white, white, white.

You swear you hear your name, then Touya’s, hissed out in a sharp whisper, and your gaze lands on a small group of people not too far from you, with snow and fire for hair—the other Todoroki’s, huddled in a loose circle.

The air around you just feels off, you catch his sister saying in a low but frantic voice, eyes darting between her brothers. She sounds worried about you, you think, and it makes you feel weird. She shouldn’t be worried about you; Touya takes fantastic care of you. It isn’t any of their business anyway, you can almost hear Touya sneering in your head, and he’s right. You know he’s right.

Her brothers don’t look too keen on discussing the subject, especially the youngest, who keeps pulling at his collar and fidgeting with his cufflinks.

“Well, why don’t you go and tell her that yourself,” the one with white hair says, grey eyes connecting with yours. She whirls around quickly, mouth snapping shut when she finds your face. Her lips morph into a smile half a second later, and she waves you over.

You avert your eyes, hands tangling nervously in front of you. No. You shouldn’t go. You really, really shouldn’t go. Touya told you to stay put, and you can’t bear to think—don’t even want to consider—how furious he’d be if he found that not only had you moved, but you had moved to talk to his siblings.

You must spend too much time deliberating, though, looking back up to find them advancing towards you, only a few feet away. Your heart’s pounding almost violently in your chest, breath accelerating with each step closer.

“Hi,” she’s saying warmly as she reaches you, causing you to subconsciously take a step back. “We haven’t had a chance to meet. I’m Fuyumi,”

You want to say your name, to introduce yourself politely, but your lips are sealed shut, only able to manage a small sound of affirmation.

“Shouto,” the youngest says, cold heterochromatic eyes glancing at you for a moment before looking away. “M’Shouto,”

“I’m Natsuo,” the man with white hair smirks down at you, eyes burning into yours.

Some of your anxiety melts away as you meet his stone eyes; there’s something comforting about the way that he has Touya’s smirk, Touya’s mischievous glint to his gaze, Touya’s playful lilt to his voice.

You feel like you can breathe again when you’re looking at Natsuo, so you keep your stare directed at him as you stutter out your name, gazing up at him through your lashes.

“You always miss the family dinners,” Natsuo accuses with a knowing smirk, raising his eyebrows suggestively. “Y’know, eventually, our parents are going to catch on,”

Your blood turns to ice in your veins, chills crawling on your skin. He knows?

And he says it so nonchalantly, so casually, as if he’s discussing the weather and not the fact that Touya deliberately kidnaps you to fuck your brains out in his car every single time they gather for one of those dinners. Fuyumi and Shouto look over at him with brows furrowed in confusion, but you choke on a gasp, coughing a little and nodding.

Touya returns then, saving you from having to respond.

“What’s wrong?” he’s asking immediately as his hands find purchase on your hips, pulling you back against his chest and wrapping his arms around you. A soft sigh leaves your lips as you lean on him, heart finally beginning to slow.

“N-Nothing, niichan,” you wrap your arms around his, hugging them to your chest, and he squeezes you in reassurance.

“You sure, baby?” Sapphire eyes search your face as you tilt your head back to look up at him, scanning for any sign of distress.

He shouldn’t be using that pet name here, not in front of his blood siblings, not loud enough that any of the passing guests can hear him with ease.

He shouldn’t.

But that doesn’t stop it from sending sparks skittering up your spine, heat beginning to coil in your tummy. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t love it, if you said you didn’t get some sort of twisted satisfaction at the loud gasp that leaves Fuyumi’s chest, or the sharp intake of breath Shouto chokes on, coughing as he tries to cover it up, all at the drop of that one, simple, four letter word.

Touya loves it, too—you can see it in the way his smirk grows into a full smile, a grin big enough to crinkle the edges of his eyes, can see it in his gaze, in the way his cobalt eyes almost sparkle at their reactions.

Your gaze flits back to the three people standing in front of you—your step-siblings, your mind corrects—eyes gliding over their faces slowly.

Natsuo looks thoroughly entertained, a stupid little grin stretched across his face, amusement dancing in his eyes. Fuyumi and Shouto, on the other hand, look thoroughly uncomfortable, shifting a little in place, their faces screwed up with poorly masked disgust.

Touya’s smile drops the moment he looks back at them. Azure eyes scan the faces of his siblings cautiously, giving Natsuo one quick, sharp nod of acknowledgment before his gaze lands on the youngest. And the glare Touya gives him is nothing short of terrifying, practically snarling at the boy, a rough, dangerous sound that gets lodged deep in his chest. It makes the boy cower away, shuffling ever-so-slightly closer to his sister, who shakily glares back.

Lips tugging down into a frown, you look up at Touya, forehead creasing in confusion. He’s still glowering at the kid, eyes narrowing just a little before he huffs and turns away, leaving without speaking a word to any of them.

“Don’t you ever talk to them again,” he’s murmuring as he whisks you away, something malicious in his voice. “You’re my little sister,”

You nod obediently, promising him that you won’t, reassuring him that you didn’t even want to as you relay the entire situation. But he can see it, the curiosity swirling in your eyes, a question dancing on your tongue.

Because although Touya appears to be on seriously awful terms with his younger siblings, Natsuo seems to be some sort of exception. From the interaction you just witnessed, you’re able to deduce that something, some line of communication, must be present between Touya and Natsuo, evident in their shared looks and swift, discreet nods.

He sighs, irritation coating his voice as he demands that you spit it out already.

It makes you jump a little, but the words come tumbling out of your mouth the moment he commands them to, powerless to disobey a direct order.

“Does that include Natsuo?”

Your voice is so tiny that he barely hears you, brows knitting together. There’s an odd look in his eye as he observes you—something that isn’t quite jealousy, but close to it—nose twitching a little as he considers.

“Alone, yes,” he finally says. “With me around it’s fine, I guess. But you are not to speak to him alone, do you hear me?”

Yes, niichan, of course, niichan.

       ✰          ✰          ✰

Dinner is absolute torture, and the two of you can barely keep your hands off of each other. It starts innocently enough, discreetly enough, with palms on thighs, fingers brushing down arms, hands interlaced under the table. But the need to touch grows, and grows, and grows, these simple actions too teasing to satisfy that dull burning in the pit of your stomach, flaring a little more each time his fingers press into your thigh, or his thumb runs across your knuckles.

And you shouldn’t, you really shouldn’t start acting up now, not while the two of you are seated at the head table, looking out amongst the guests—a few months ago, you would’ve never thought to do something so indecent, so dangerous, in such a public place. But you just can’t help it, you’re getting restless now, brain going hazy with thoughts of him as your fingers trail up his thigh and ghost over his lap.

“Getting bold, are we, princess?” his hand catches your wrist, holding your palm in place and grinding up into it. His voice is low, head tipped towards you, sapphire eyes dark. A breath catches in your throat and he smirks, an evil little quirk up of his lips, raising an eyebrow at you in expectation.

You’re lucky they’re seated in a straight line instead of a circle, he murmurs in your ear, Natsuo snickering beside him. “Imagine what your daddy would think if he could see you, acting like such a desperate little slut in front of all of these people,”

A soft, broken moan escapes your lips without your permission, thighs squeezing together in an attempt to combat the heat pooling in your panties. Someone down the line of the table says something, but you’re too enticed by Touya to hear them, your father writing off whatever the remark was with an easygoing smile.

“Oh, those two are always in their own little world,” you hear him dismiss, voice sounding muddled and distant.  

“Be a good girl and sit still,” Touya growls in your ear, grip tightening to near bruising.

“But niichan,” you whine, much too loud, gazing at him with glazed, blown eyes. “Niichan,” you repeat, leaning forward to whimper in his ear, fingers flexing around the bulge in his trousers. “N-Need you,”

“If you can’t behave, niichan won’t let you cum later,” he breathes, though his voice is stern, heavy with the weight of the threat.

A pout forms on your lips as he releases your wrist, firmly placing your hand back in your lap and holding it there for a moment, a silent warning for your wandering fingers to stay put.

But he’s up and out of his chair the instant dinner’s over, moving so quick his seat wobbles a little as he grasps your hand tightly in his, practically yanking you up and dragging you along behind him.

The best thing about these fancy venues, he’s telling you as he strides through the halls, cerulean eyes searching for something, is that they have single person washrooms.

The granite is cold on your cheek as Touya shoves you up against the wall, head bouncing a little as it whacks against it.

You whine and he laughs, a cruel, piercing sound echoing off the walls.

“Aw, baby,” he coos contemptuously. “Did that hurt?”

“Y-Yes,” you whimper, eyes squeezing shut against the throbbing pain radiating through your cheek.

“Poor little thing,” he hisses, lips against your ear as his hands begin to bunch up your dress, gliding over your silk covered thighs, hands fisting in the material as he goes. Pushing it up around your waist, he leans back, hands travelling over the globes of your ass and kneading hard enough to make you cry out.

“You’re a slutty little brat, y’know that?”

Deft fingers hook in the waistband of your thong, all delicate baby pink lace, Touya snickering about how much of a whore you are, wearing such skimpy, slutty panties, as he lets the elastic snap back against your skin.

A little shocked gasp escapes your lips as he begins tugging the dainty fabric down your thighs—you had expected him to merely push them to the side, but he forces you to take them off entirely, stuffing the soaked material in his pocket.

“You think you can just tease niichan like that and get away with it?”

“No,” you whisper, shaking your head against the wall.

“No,” he murmurs, hips grinding against your bare ass. “Good girls don’t tease their niichans without delivering, do they?”

“No,”

“On your knees,” he orders, spinning you around and stepping back just enough to allow you to sink to the floor. “Get my cock wet,”

Little fingers work quickly, eager to obey, as they undo his pants, practically salivating as you free his cock from its confines.

“Your cock’s so pretty, niichan,” you breathe, eyes glittering with pure, potent desire as you take it in your hands, tongue darting out to trace the prominent veins.

“No teasing,” he growls, a hand knotting in your hair. “I wanna see you choke on it,”

You nod as best you can, mouth instantly falling open, reduced to nothing more than a wet, warm little hole for him to stuff.

And then he’s shoving it down your throat, the hand fisted in your hair holding your head still, and you gag around it almost immediately, working to force you jaw open even more.

“That’s it, that’s my good girl,” he rasps out, voice echoing off the walls of the washroom.

The praise has your heart soaring, has you sucking hard around him as he thrusts into your mouth, coating his cock in thick saliva and desperate to hear more. It’s intoxicating, every quiet moan you manage to pull from him, every breathless good girl that falls from his lips, makes you feel lightheaded and heady and dizzy for more.

His hips pump a few more times before he’s pulling you off his cock completely, devious smirk forming on his lips at your whine of protest, and commanding you to go bend over the sink.

Calloused hands are bunching your dress up around your waist again, toe of his shoe kicking at your inner ankles and forcing your feet further apart.

He doesn’t bother stretching you out, not because he doesn’t have the time to, but because he simply doesn’t want to. It’s truly one of his favourite things, to see tears fill your eyes while his cock stretches your cute little pussy, and he knows you love it too, don’t you?

Yes, niichan, of course you do.

His cock glistens with your saliva, sufficiently wet that it slides in easily enough, with minimal pain for him. And the soft groan he lets out as he watches your little hole struggle to take him, paired with your sweet little whimpers of his name, is nothing short of gorgeous.

It has your pussy fluttering around him, pulling a breathless chuckle from his lips as he fills you to the hilt, hips pressed against your ass.

And then doesn’t fucking move.

Your brow furrows, eyes meeting his in the mirror. You try to fuck yourself back on him, but he’s too quick, hands stilling your hips immediately and tutting in disapproval.

“Niichan,” you whimper. “N-Niichan, please fuck me,”  

“Do you think you deserve it?” he’s asking, tongue tracing the shell of your ear as he holds your gaze through the mirror. “After the way you behaved at dinner?”

“M’sorry,” you whine, wiggling back against him, his fingers digging into your flesh as he stops them, grip tightening. “Couldn’t help it, wanted you so bad,”

“Of course you couldn’t,” he smirks, hips starting to move slowly, teasingly, stilling after only three simple thrusts. A hand reaches down and finds your clit, forcing a gasp from you as his thumb brushes over it, back and forth, back and forth, featherlight grazes that have you arching back into him, trying to press further into his touch.

“Think you can cum just like this for me?” he asks, beginning to thrust shallowly again, just enough to have the head of his cock dragging against that spot buried deep inside your cunt, that spot he knows so well, then nudging your cervix. “Hmm?”

“Mhmm,” you nod, breath starting to come out in short little pants.

“Then do it,” he demands in a whisper, eyes still holding yours. “Show niichan how pretty you look, cumming all over his cock,”

And the combination of his deep, rough voice rumbling against your back as praises tumble from his lips, his thumb and cock, and the fact that anyone within a fifteen foot radius of this washroom could probably hear you, has you cumming within minutes with a sharp cry of Touya-nii!  

Touya laughs at how pathetically quickly you came, about how easy it is to have you creaming on his cock, heat seeping into your cheeks as you try to look away.

“My turn,” he breathes, yanking your head back up by your hair, fingers finding root in the intricate updo that has begun to fall apart. “And I wanna see your face as I fuck you, so keep your damn head up,”

And then he’s slamming into you with enough vigour to propel you forward, face pressed against the mirror, toes barely touching the ground. Every moan and whimper and mewl he forces from your throat fogs up the glass, leaving tiny glistening drops of condensation as they fade.

You’re trying so hard to keep your eyes open, to watch him as he fucks you, because he always looks so damn pretty.  

He’s stupidly attractive, with his shirtsleeves rolled halfway up his forearms, first few buttons undone and collar popped, revealing his sharp collarbone, smooth ivory skin stretched taut across it. Ebony hair clings to his forehead and neck delicately, coated in sweat, and he’s emitting the most glorious noises, heavy pants and little broken whines, peppered with praise.

Nails bite into your flesh as he holds you in place, hips snapping relentlessly, your fingers curling around the porcelain sink.

“You want niichan’s cum?” he growls in your ear, eyes burning into yours. You whimper in response, nodding against the mirror. “Yeah? Then fucking beg for it.”

Pleads are spilling from your lips immediately, nothing but senseless babbling as he pounds into you.

“Please, niichan, please, need it, your cum, stuff me with your cum,”

“That’s it,” he gasps, voice hoarse. “I want every single person in this godforsaken hall to hear you, I want every single person to know how much of—” he cuts himself off with a shuddery curse. “—How much of a slut my baby sister is,”

“Pretty please,” you whine out the words, eyes rolling back in your head. “Fill me up with your cum, niichan, I-I want it,”

His hips still just as your cunt clenches around him, cockhead pressed tightly against your cervix as he fills you with hot, thick ropes of cum.

He pulls out a few moments later, and you uncurl your fingers from around the rim of the sink, wincing at your appearance; lips bitten raw, hair beginning to fall from it’s elegant style, body covered in a thin layer of sweat.

You look back at him to find him already staring at you, expectantly, impatiently, hands jittery as he quirks his head towards the door.

“We can’t leave together,” he says, as if it’s obvious, even though you stumbled into the washroom together twenty minutes ago.

He needs more.

You nod, slow and dumb, staggering a little on your trembling legs. Grasping the doorknob you pause, turning to look at him again.

“What?” he asks as he searches through his pockets, not bothering to glance at you. He can feel your eyes on him.

“Um...” you shift nervously from foot to foot, lip caught between your teeth.

He looks over at you sharply, brows rising as if to ask why are you still here?

“M-My panties, niichan,”

Oh.

A wicked smirk spreads across his face, eyes twinkling, brows relaxing.

“What about them?”

“Well, I—I can’t return to the reception without them,”

“Oh, and why not?”

You pause, blinking a few times, at a loss for words. Why not? Because you can feel his cum beginning to trickle out of you, mixing with your juices and dribbling down your inner thigh?

“Exactly,” he says, when you take too long to reply. “Now be a good little girl and go. I’ll be out soon,”

       ✰          ✰          ✰

You don’t go back into the ballroom, terrified that you’ll be ambushed by his—your—siblings again. Collapsing in one of the plush chairs, you cross your quivering legs tightly in a desperate attempt to keep the cum oozing out of you from getting on your dress.

People are looking again, probably think you’re drunk based on the way you teetered over to the seat, or the way your hair’s begun to come undone from it’s intricate updo, wispy strands framing your face.

He returns from the washroom only a few minutes later, eyes finding you immediately. There’s a stupid, smug smirk on his face, thinks it’s so cute that he fucked you so good you can’t walk, can’t even get up, that you need your niichan to help you.

A pout forms on your lips, eyebrows furrowing. “Not funny,”

“Very funny,” he chuckles as his hands snake under your armpits, hauling you to your feet. You stumble a little, bumping into him and he laughs again, wrapping a sturdy arm around your waist and propping you up against him.

“Alright, let’s get this over with,”

“Oh, niichan,” you murmur and he pauses, glancing over at you. You reach up, your thumb swiping across his nose to collect excess white powder.

“Thanks,” he breathes, winking at you. You hum noncommittally, about to rub your thumb across his white dress shirt to clean it when he catches your hand, bringing your thumb to his lips and licking it instead.

It isn’t discreet. It’s slow and deliberate, tongue sticking out of his mouth, flattening it against your thumb and dragging it up, from base to tip. You’re sure someone saw that, but you can’t be bothered to care, not when another bout of intense heat rushes to your core, forcing you to squeeze your legs together, trying in vain to keep Touya’s cum from seeping out, from your juices traveling down your leg. A soft whimper leaves your lips, breathing beginning to accelerate as your eyes bore into his, now half-lidded and dark. He holds your gaze for a moment before something snaps.

“We need to go,” he says, voice firm with no room for negotiation. “Now.”

And, God, his voice is rough and raw and fucking dripping with desire. It’s got you nodding before he’s even finished speaking, a flock of butterflies invading your stomach at the downright sinful grin he gives you in response. Such a good girl for him.

Despite the fact that you’ve barely recovered from your previous orgasm, you nearly moan at his look alone, the urge to kiss him burning through your veins and alighting your entire body in direct juxtaposition to the shivers his eyes just sent rippling across your skin. The insatiable need overwhelms your senses, and it’s dangerous. It’s dangerous, how captivated he has you, entirely wrapped around his slim finger and hanging on his every word, how you’re positive that, in that moment, you’d do anything he asked.

You wobble awkwardly in your heels, legs still shaking and having trouble keeping up with Touya’s swift pace. You’re about to ask him to slow down just a little so you don’t break an ankle, when you bump into your father.

Who just so happens to provide you with the perfect excuse to leave early. You can practically see the gears clicking into place in Touya’s mind, sapphire eyes glittering as a sinister smirk spreads across his face.

Your father’s eyes widen as he observes your appearance, strands of hair sticking to your clammy face and eyes half-lidded, chapped lips beginning to crack, leaning heavily against Touya and seemingly too weak to stand on your own.

“Hi dad,” you greet hoarsely, wincing a little at how grating your voice sounds.

He frowns immediately. “Jesus, sweetheart, are you feeling alright? You look…” he trails off, forehead wrinkling with worry.

“Oh, she’s not feeling too good,” Touya says softly, smoothly, just the right amount of concern and compassion in his tone.

“Oh no,” your father breathes, frown deepening. “That’s terrible,” he clicks his tongue with a shake of his head. “Do you think you’ll be able to tough out the rest of the reception?”

You begin to croak out an answer, but Touya speaks over you.

“She’s burning up, sir,” he informs him, and it isn’t a lie—not exactly, anyway. Technically, if your father were to feel your forehead, your body temperature would be above average, a result of Touya fucking the absolute life out of you a mere ten minutes ago.

Touya looks down at you with painfully sympathetic eyes, but you can still see that little glint of mischief, buried under all of that artificial benevolence.

“Maybe I should take her home?” Touya muses, looking back at your father, mimicking his anxiety effortlessly.

“Mm,” he hums in agreement. “I think that’s the best thing to do,” his eyes dart to yours. “You really don’t look well,”

Oh, you’re sure you don’t. Resting a little more against Touya, you play up the symptoms a bit, whimpering quietly as little fingers twist in his shirt, nuzzling your face against his side. A soft noise of endearment sounds at the back of his throat, large hands readjusting your body to support you better.

Another whimper falls from your lips, but this time it isn’t from pretending you’re ill. You can feel his cum leaking out of you, slimy and cool as it drips down your inner thigh, and a sick thrill shoots through your body, abused cunt throbbing greedily.

Rei comes up behind your father then, wrapping her arms around his midsection and resting her chin on his shoulder, eyes flitting between the two of you carefully.

“What’s going on? Is everything okay?”

“I’m gonna bring this little princess home,” Touya explains, nodding his head at you in indication as he speaks. “She isn’t feeling very well, poor thing,”

And it’s scary, scary how terrific he is at lying, how easily he slips into that niichan role, the one painstakingly crafted and flawlessly maintained around your parents, the one he’s perfected at this point.

Rei doesn’t say much, only cooing in sympathy, remarking that it’s such a shame, but your father’s eyes soften. “Such a good big brother,” he praises, clapping a hand on Touya’s shoulder.

Touya has to consciously work to smother the smirk playing at the corners of his lips as he responds.

“You have no idea,”  

       ✰          ✰          ✰

Your parents don’t come home that night, opting to go straight to the airport from the venue, embarking on their honeymoon immediately.

It’s nice, playing house with Touya, having the entire place completely to yourselves. He’s been home an awful lot these past few weeks, more than he ever has in the past, and you get to experience things you never could before.

Every morning and every night, you cook breakfast and dinner together. You go grocery shopping together, wash the dishes together, fold the laundry together, all while stealing kisses in between; little domestic things you didn’t really do with your parents around.

You spend every night that they’re away in his bed, being fucked into his mattress, surrounded by the smell of him—campfire and Marlboros and expensive cologne—absolutely full of him in every sense.

You wake up in the mornings with his hand between your legs, playing with your cute little clit, or his cock pressed against your ass, grinding until you wake up. You have sleepy, slow morning sex while you’re both still half asleep, and it’s the most gentle he’s ever been. It consists of lazy, sloppy, messy thrusts against each other, hips meeting halfway—just grinding until he gets too impatient, though he usually lets you cum two or three times before he finally flips you over, trapping you under his body and slamming his hips into you, growling and grunting, your legs pushed up and folded on either side of you.

You get to fuck in the kitchen—not that you hadn’t before, but this time you get to take it slow. He eats you out while you sit on the counter and then fucks you into oblivion and it’s nasty, it’s disgusting, it’s so good. He cums so much that it’s leaking out of you, onto the counter, his chest heaving as he observes it with an odd little smile and a soft “fuck,”

And you get to fuck in the bathtub, that big jacuzzi in your parents room, water and bubbles sloshing around as you bounce on his cock, loud cries echoing off the walls.

It’s going great, until the last weekend of the honeymoon, a mere few days before your parents are supposed to return.

       ✰          ✰          ✰

A party.

Keigo tries to talk him out of it, tries to at least talk him out of letting you stay.

“She shouldn’t be here,” you hear Keigo hiss under his breath as guests begin to fill the house, Touya snorting in retort.

Keigo doesn’t think you should be around any of this at all—there’s no reason you should have to witness this shit, you catch him growling, gold eyes blazing. No, not a poor innocent babygirl like you, this isn’t the place for you.

But Touya’s too stubborn, too selfish to let Keigo take you out for the night. He knows he’s right, would rather not have you around these people, but he doesn’t have a fucking choice. The thought of you being out of his sight, out with another man, has anxiety rising in his throat, panic clawing at his chest.

As a result, you spend the entirety of the party being passed between Touya and Keigo. There are so many girls here, so many people you don’t know, wide eyes scanning the living room as your fingers twist in Keigo’s hoodie.

Niichan’s busy, Touya tells you, when you ask why you can’t just stay with him, when you ask where he keeps disappearing off to. Niichan’s working, don’t you know? Be a good girl and stay with Kei.

You can tell that Keigo isn’t happy about it. He coos softly when you timidly ask if he’s upset that he’s stuck babysitting you all night, in the middle of an apology when he cuts you off.

“It isn’t your fault, songbird,” he murmurs, gentle fingers tracing the curve of your face.

He’s even angrier at Touya when he takes that first girl back to his room, because the look on your face—the way it crumples accompanied by a soft, hurt sound caught at the back of your throat—kills him.

And it isn’t like you don’t know about his side whores. You do. They’re customers, he had snapped at you, the only time you had ever asked about it. But it’s an entirely different thing to actually have to witness it with your own eyes.

You can’t help the flare of jealousy that rises in your chest every time he takes a girl by the hand and leads them to his bedroom. It stings, burns, feels like a fire’s been lit in your chest, filling your lungs with dense smoke and making it hard for you to breathe.

Keigo tries his best to distract you, gentle fingers on your cheeks turning your face towards him, golden eyes softening in sympathy. He keeps you as preoccupied as he can, but it still isn’t enough. Your eyes are drawn to Touya every time he’s in the room—an automatic, instinctual reaction you couldn’t control even if you wanted to.

And every time you watch a girl giggle into his ear, or hop up with him, that fire smoldering in your chest blazes, rages, has you wheezing and hissing and pressing a palm flat against yourself, a desperate attempt to get the pain to stop.

Tomura’s here, too, though he’s sitting in a shrouded corner on his phone, the light from the screen reflected on his pale face, colours flashing intermittently. He looks absorbed with whatever he’s doing on there—probably playing a game, Keigo tells you, but why are you interested, anyway?

You don’t know, you aren’t sure, you can’t exactly put it into words. He terrifies you, but he sparks a morbid curiosity in you, too. He’s so silent, private, almost inobtrusive; and yet Touya never lets you anywhere near him. Your eyes keep flitting his way, as if trying to will something to happen, staring at him longingly and hoping he’ll look up from his phone for a split second and catch your gaze, that he’ll somehow magically get the hint that you’re desperate and dying to talk to him, and take the first step.

But it doesn’t happen.

Touya is thoroughly unimpressed each and every time he finds you sitting on Keigo’s knee or lap, leaning back against his chest as he speaks with that easygoing lilt that is so distinctly him, but there isn’t much he can do. The third time he returns to take you from his friend he can tell you’re beginning to get tired, can see it in your eyes, in the way you’re cuddling into a warm chest. He debates sending you to bed right then and there, but you protest, little hands tangling in Keigo’s hoodie.

“Aw, she’s alright for a little more, isn’t she?”

Touya’s sharp jaw clenches twice and he exhales slowly through his nose, eyes darting between your faces.

“Fine,” he says, although it doesn’t seem fine.

And you are exhausted, straddling Keigo’s hips, face pressed into his shoulder and hot breath evening out softly against his neck. Fingers ghost up and down your spine nonchalantly as Keigo talks softly to the people around him, his laugh vibrating against your chest and filling you with an odd, tingly sensation, a warmth that seeps through your body. You snuggle a little closer to him and he coos, readjusting you in his lap and wrapping an arm around your waist, holding you tightly to him.

“Don’t wanna go to bed with him,” you whisper, words muffled by his skin.

Keigo hums in question, squeezing you once. “Who, songbird?” he presses his lips to your ear as inconspicuously as he can, lidded gold eyes lazily scanning the room for your brother. “Touya?”

You nod sluggishly, little fingers curling in his hoodie, a silent plea not to let you go.

“Aw, don’t be like that,” Keigo says softly with a small chuckle, but it sounds off to your ears—sad, even.

“Don’t wanna,” you repeat, pout evident in your voice. “Wanna stay with you,”

You wouldn’t have noticed the way his chest hitches at those four words if you weren’t pressed flush against it. But you feel it, feel his breath getting caught in his throat, reverberating against you as he clears it quietly. Unexpected guilt sours your mouth, makes your stomach turn to a block of heavy lead, weighting your body down.

“You know you can’t, sweetheart,” he finally responds, voice cracking just a bit, right on that last word. “Don’t hurt your niichan like that, he loves you,”

No he doesn’t, you want to say, but you can’t seem to force the words from your mouth, opting to shake your head instead, eyes shutting tightly against the burn of tears.

“He does,” Keigo says, more sternly this time. “Don’t doubt that,”

But you’re not so sure. If Touya loved you—really loved you—would he have disappeared no less than three times tonight, each with a different girl, leading them into his bedroom with those dark glittering sapphire eyes while they gaze up at him like he hung the fucking moon himself?

Honestly, is that even a question you want answered?

You keep your face buried in Keigo’s chest to block it out, to keep yourself from watching your big brother as he flits around the room, handing out discreet baggies in exchange for ridiculous wads of cash and talking in hushed voices, in code, to men who look much too old to be at a house party.

Eventually, Touya returns to retrieve you, bending down and speaking softly.

“It’s time for bed, princess,” A hand pets your head, and you flinch away.

“Hey,” you feel the couch dip beside you as he sits down. “Look at me,”

You’re shaking your head, trying in vain to press even closer to Keigo, but that doesn’t stop Touya from reaching out and gripping your chin, forcing you to face him.

Crystal eyes search your face carefully, wide and alert—he always works sober, you found out. He can tell you’re upset, can see it written plain as day across your face, eyes glassy with your lips set in a deep pout, eyebrows pushed together. Exhaling harshly, he closes his eyes, fingers rubbing at his eyes in exasperation.

“C’mon,” he says lowly, wrapping a hand around your bicep and tugging as he stands.

“No,” you nearly growl, shaking your head and viciously pulling your arm from his grip.

Touya stares at you for a moment, like he cannot believe you just had the audacity to tell him no, before he speaks, an incredulous laugh bubbling up from his chest. “What did you just say?”

Keigo’s sitting up straighter now, more alert as your body subconsciously curls into his chest, cowering away from your big brother. “Y-You heard me,”

Snorting in disbelief, Touya raises his eyebrows as his tongue runs along the front of his teeth, huffing out the remnants of a chuckle before his smile drops completely, blue fire blazing in his dark eyes.

“Get up,” he snarls, hand in a vice grip around your arm as he yanks harshly. The force of it has you practically falling off Keigo’s lap, though Touya catches you roughly before your knees hit the hardwood, hoisting you up by your arm to stand on unsteady feet.

“Move.” He instructs, giving you a shove in the vague direction of his bedroom. “Now.”

His chest bumps into your back and you stumble forward, yelping softly. He keeps pushing like this, strong hand clasping your shoulder so tightly you’re sure you’ll have five little bruises in the shape of his fingerprints in the morning, driving you to walk with the sheer force of his body.

“No,” your whispering, trying desperately to turn back and look at him as you approach his door, tears flooding your eyes, frantically shaking your head and trying your damnedest to plant your feet, heels digging into the floor in an attempt to stop him from pushing you forward.

“You really gonna say no to me a second time tonight? In less than fifteen minutes? You think that’s wise, baby?”

You don’t—of course you don’t. It’s probably one of the stupidest things you could do, in this situation.

But even though you know, know this isn’t a smart move, know you shouldn’t be testing him like this—challenging him like this, especially in front of so many people—you’re powerless to control the words that tumble from your lips next.

“I don’t want to sleep in a bed that’s been infested by your whores,”

They come out as a hiss—you don’t mean for them to, but they do, voice quivering under the combined weight of your fury and fear.

That gets him to stop, entire body going rigid. Icy dread rushes through your veins, panic clawing its way up your throat, forcing uneven breaths through your parted lips. Squeezing your eyes shut tightly, you brace yourself for the impact of his bellowing voice, shoulders tensing in anticipation for the blow, for him to really snap.

Except then he starts laughing, his hand relaxing around your shoulder, spinning you around to face him as he backs you up against his bedroom door, caging you in with his body.

“That’s what this is about?”

Eyebrows furrowing, you blink twice in disbelief, prompting hot tears to finally spill over. “I—Wh-Why are you laughing?”

“Because you’re being silly, princess,”

It hurts, stings like three massive spikes just shot through your heart, causes a tiny whimper to sound from deep in your throat, chest hiccupping with pathetic little half-sobs.

“Sil…Silly?” Time feels as if it’s slowed, your sluggish brain having trouble comprehending the situation unfolding.

His lips pull down into a frown, eyes narrowing slightly as he regards you with extreme precision. “Yeah,” he says, but his voice sounds far away, muffled, like you’re underwater and he’s speaking to you from above the surface. “Hey—”

Your head’s shaking again, in slow, delayed motions from side to side. “No,” you whisper. “No.”

You feel nauseous, and the proximity of his presence is only making it worse, making you feel like you could hurl at any moment. Little hands find purchase on his chest and push, stomach lurching painfully as your head spins.

He catches your wrists easily, holding them together in one large hand, his other coming to grip your chin and force you to look at him.

Thick silence settles between the two of you as Touya’s eyes study your face slowly, noting the tears flowing steadily down your face, the way your breath stutters with sobs you’re so desperately trying to hold back, the way your entire body trembles.

“Are you seriously upset over this?” he asks, laughing a little.

Your gaze holds his, tears casting a thick, gleaming screen across your eyes.

“Yes, Touya,” you whisper, wishing your voice didn’t sound as small and weak as it does. “I’m seriously upset,”

That’s the first time you’ve used his first name—just his first name, void of any honorific—in a long, long time.

It gets him to pause again, his usual and well-worn mask of passivity melting away for just a second as shock crosses his face. Then his features are hardening again, brows knitting together and creasing his forehead, eyes narrowing into near slits.

“Don’t be fucking stupid,” he spits harshly, the words cutting into your flesh. “You know none of them mean a thing,”

“Then why do you fuck around with them?” you shoot back almost immediately, voice fading into a whisper.

He glares at you, as if you’re wasting his precious time with such childish questions when he’s told you this already, and you can see the blue fire simmering in his eyes.

“It’s late,” he says curtly, voice sounding off to you. “You need sleep.”

You try to fight him on it, but he’s too quick, reflexes too swift, and he shoves you into his room, door slamming shut less than a second later.

Tears obstruct your vision as you stumble around, finally finding his desk chair and collapsing heavily. You don’t even bother trying to open the door, know it’s locked without having to hear that soft click! as the lock turns into place.

He’s right—it is late, well past three in the morning, and you are utterly exhausted, drawing your knees up to your chest and curling up in the plush chair.

But no matter how tired you are, you absolutely refuse to sleep in his bed. The party’s dying down, you can hear Touya’s muffled farewells as guests begin to leave while you fade in and out of consciousness.

You think you might’ve heard Keigo say something, might’ve caught the word stay, might’ve detected the annoyance laced in Touya’s voice as he responds, but you’re too worn out to reflect on it.

At some point in the night, Touya reenters his room, chuckling a little at your antics and carrying you to his bed.

The move wakes you, and you weakly protest—no, you don’t want to be in this bed, please, just let you go sleep in your own bed—but Touya ignores you entirely, wrapping an arm around you and pulling you tightly to his chest.

It’s then that the tears start up again, salt staining your puffy cheeks, head beginning to throb from dehydration.

“Shh, baby, shh,” he hushes you, nimble fingers combing through your hair. “I’m here, right here,”

If there’s one thing you’ve learned about Touya over these past few weeks, it’s that he becomes marginally softer in the middle of the night. Your fingers twist in his t-shirt, trying in vain to pull yourself impossibly closer, Touya making a soft noise akin to a coo in the back of his throat.

“I’ve got you, niichan’s got you,”

You hate it. You hate that he’s the only person you want comforting you right now, as you lay in his bed, surrounded by the smell of cheap perfume and clinging in desperation to him, needing him close, needing his body heat warming you and his hands on you. You hate the way your sobs come harder the more he soothes you, the heavy ache in your chest almost bruising, crushing your lungs and making it near impossible to breathe.

But you crave his comfort nonetheless. It’s a special kind of comfort, one that’s difficult to describe, one that only comes from the love and adoration and protection of a big brother.

Why can’t you just be mine? You want to ask, the words searing into your tongue, refusing to leave your lips.

“You’re gonna make yourself sick, angel,” he chastises softly, brushing your hair away from your clammy forehead as another shuddery sob rips through your chest.

“I want you,” you say instead, words garbled.

“You have me, baby,”

“All of you,”

His chest heaves with an exasperated sigh, head turning away and gazing up at the ceiling. “You have all of me, princess,”

There’s something in his voice that makes you stop, pause, his words reverberating in your mind. He sounds almost like…like he’s upset over this fact, like he wishes that you didn’t have all of him.

You want to press for more, to probe and prod and pick away at it, but exhaustion finally claims you, rendering you incapable of speech, your tongue moving sluggishly in your mouth as you desperately try to form words.

       ✰          ✰          ✰

It’s grey when you wake, only a few hours later, eyes sticky and dry from lack of sleep. Your head is pounding, feels like it’s been stuffed full of cotton, lips cracked and dry from dehydration, and a painful lump forms almost immediately in your throat when you get a whiff of sickly sweet artificial vanilla, then another of intense, synthetic citrus.

The tears are starting up again, collecting in your eyes and clouding your vision. It makes you nauseous, makes your skin crawl and your chest burn as your throat fills with acid. The tears sting, but you blink hard to keep them at bay. You will not cry, not in front of him, not in his bed surrounded by the remnants of those other girls, not again. You refuse to give them the satisfaction.

You spring up quickly, halfway through climbing over Touya’s body when a strong hand latches onto your wrist.

“No,” Touya mumbles, face half buried in his pillow. “Stay,”

“No,” you whisper, pulling yourself free from his grasp and hurrying out of his room. You can smell them on your clothes, on your skin, and it makes you want to scrub your body under scalding water until it’s raw.

Everything hurts—it hurts so much it feels like your chest is collapsing in on itself, like you can’t breathe, gasping for air as you stumble onto the porch, nearly tripping over your own feet as you stop and realize you have nowhere to go.

Touya has cut you off from all of your friends at this point; any spare time you had was now claimed by him.

And that’s exactly why he doesn’t bother rolling out of bed to follow after you, isn’t worried about you going anywhere, knows you can’t leave him, no matter how badly you want to. No, not a precious little girl like you, with nowhere to find refuge.

You sit down heavily on one of the front steps, vision so blurry with tears you’re barely able to make out the figure advancing towards you. They’re finally escaping your eyes, rolling down your cheeks as you blink twice, trying to clear them. Your chest stutters under the force of a sob you’re desperately trying to hold back, clapping both hands over your mouth in an attempt to silence it.

“Hey—oh no,” Keigo breathes the moment your watery eyes look up at him. You squeeze your eyes shut, causing more tears to leak out as your shoulders shake, whole body trembling from the force of your sobs, poorly muffled by your palms.

“No, no, no, sweetheart,” he’s saying as he rushes to sit down next to you, wrapping an arm around your shoulders tightly.

Keigo’s the closest thing you have to a friend now. And really, you should be embarrassed by the way you practically fling yourself into his arms, burying your face in his chest as your hands form fists in his t-shirt. He’s a little startled by your borderline violent reaction, but he recovers quickly, arms encircling your body and pulling you against him.

“It’s okay,” he says softly, one hand rubbing your back while the other pets your hair. “Hey, it’s alright, I’m here,”

And you hate the way his words almost directly mirror Touya’s, the way his low sultry voice turned gentle and soft as he carded deft fingers through your hair echoing almost painfully in your head. But Keigo lets you cry, lets you stain his t-shirt with salty tears and saliva until you’ve got nothing left, never stopping his compassionate motions.

“You…Stayed the night?” you pull back a little, the fact that he’s still here, blonde hair all mussed up from sleep, finally dawning on you.

“Well, yeah,” he says, a little bashful as he looks away and ducks his head. “Wanted to make sure you were alright, s’all. Last night was…” he trails off, frowning. “What happened?”

Golden eyes search your face, his forehead crinkling in concern. A beat of silence passes.

“I mean, you don’t have to tell me, but…” kind fingers move to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. “You’ll feel better if you let it out, promise. And, not to brag or anything, but I’m preee-tty good at this kind’a stuff,” he chuckles a little.

“Got in a fight,” you whisper, eyes staring intently at the brick wall behind his shoulder as your chin trembles slightly, memories of last night flashing through your mind.

“A fight? With Touya?” Keigo moves his head a little, forcing his face into your field of vision and catching your face with tender fingers when you try to look away.

“Yeah,” tears are beginning to well up in your eyes as you think about it, the sheer fact that you’re in a fight making your heart feel like it’s ripping itself to shreds. A chaotic storm of emotions brews in your chest, switching mercilessly and swirling together so quickly that you can’t even tell what they are. Your insides feel all jumbled up, and trying to decipher what the heck’s going on only makes your head ache more.

They torment you, a deep sense of anguish finally settling at the core. You’re confused, livid at Touya for being such a jackass; jealous, because you want him all to yourself; heartbroken, because you want—need—his approval, desperate to hear him tell you that you’re his good little baby girl.

You want to be his good little baby girl.

But it isn’t fair. Life isn’t fair, sweetheart. Get used to it, he had told you once, when you had complained about something so silly, so simple as him eating the last ice cream cookie sandwich (he made it up to you, of course, telling you he wanted to taste your cream—such a cheeseball—and making you cum three times before taking you out to buy more).

No, it isn’t fair, but you don’t care. You want him to be yours, too.

Keigo tsks, bringing your attention back to him, mouth set in a hard line as sad eyes watch you. “What was it about?”

“I-It…H-He—” a shuddery breath cuts you off, and Keigo draws you into his arms, holding you against his chest as the sobs start up again, sobs that make it feel like your body’s about to tear apart, desperately clutching Keigo to try and keep yourself together.

“Oh, songbird,” he coos, rocking you gently. “Is it…Um, the other girls?”

“Yes,”

“But you know you’re his favourite, right?”

“D-Does it even matter, if he’s still fucking them anyway?” you ask, pulling back suddenly as hot anger flashes through you. “Why does he need them? Am I—” a sob cuts you off, but you swallow it, persevering. “Am I not good enough?” your voice breaks on the last word, fading into a whisper, big teary eyes scanning his face almost frantically, seeking an answer in his expression.

Keigo blinks, surprised by your sudden brashness, then gives you a small, sad smile. “Only he can answer that, sugarplum,” he whispers, using the pad of his thumb to catch a stray tear and wipe it across your cheekbone. “But just because he’s fucking around, doesn’t mean that you can’t, too,”

Your head tilts to the side, brow furrowing. “What do you mean?”

“Give him a taste of his own medicine,” Keigo shrugs, leaning back a little. “He definitely deserves it, for making an angel such as yourself so upset,”

You sniffle a little, wiping at your nose with the paw of your sweater as you consider the prospect.

“Y’know, it technically isn’t cheating, since you guys aren’t in any sort of official relationship to begin with,” Keigo reminds you gently, nudging just a tiny bit more.

It isn’t right—you know it isn’t. You’ve never been one to fight fire with fire, often preferring to avoid conflict and drama, but you’re so hurt; you’re so angry at him—angry at the way he reacted, as if it was you in the wrong, angry at the fact that he doesn’t even seen to care about your feelings on the issue, because he knows you’ll come running back either way, angry because he’s right, as evident in the way pathetically clung to him last night—that all you want to do in that moment is cause him a shred of the pain he’s causing you.

It’s an impulsive decision that has you pulling out your phone, quickly scrolling through your contacts, thumb jabbing at Tomura’s name—Touya had given you his number for emergencies only—before you have time to think it through, before you have time to regret it.

Tiny thumbs fly across the keyboard, your heart pounding in your chest as adrenaline accelerates your breathing.

Hey. Let’s hang out.

Keigo inhales through his teeth next to you, and your eyes dart to him in surprise, as if you had forgotten he was there.

“Well,” he begins, though his voice sounds odd to you—unlike his usually nonchalant, happy-go-lucky manner. “That’s, uh, definitely one that’s gonna hurt him, songbird,”

You look back down at your phone to see Tomura typing a response.

Yeah, definitely. Pick a day.

“Good.”

#dabi x reader #dabi x you #dabi smut #todoroki touya x reader #todoroki touya #no idea how this MONSTER grew so much??? #big apologies #part two is DARK and it is coming tomorrow!!! #tw pseudo-incest #tw toxic relationship #tw dubcon #tw drugs #tw cheating

[therealvinelle]

for experiments sake, let's say Aro DOES have a vampire who can blow people up. how would twilight go then? (that ask was hilarious btw, thank you!)

(Anon is referring to this post.)

Oh my god I'm so glad you asked.

So, since you refer to a post where I used a random generator to determine who would be blown up, I'm going to go ahead and make that Aro's new guy's power.

He can kill anyone within an instant, remotely, and he can't be blocked. His is Death and he will not be stopped. Let's call him Torgrim, it's appropriately badass.

The drawback being that he has no way of determining who gets blown up. It's completely random. Though for the sake of having my character list be relevant, we'll say that his power only works on vampires.

Aro doesn't have any real use for him, but he didn't want the guy runninng around on his own either so, sure. He can join the guard.

SO. I have a list of 53 vampire characters who are alive during the Breaking Dawn confrontation. All of them are named, as I did not feel serious adding "Volturi witness #1" or "Maria's newborn army recruit #1" when I don't know that the already named characters in the appendix aren't witnessing for the Volturi, or that Maria actually has a newborn army at the time of the Breaking Dawn trial.

Also, for the record, I didn't prewrite who gets blown up, I get to find out as I write this post.

Irina is off the list, as Caius just killed her. Torgrim is on the list.

Alec, Jane, and Chelsea try their gifts, each of them fail. The Cullen side is starting to get their hopes up.

Never fear, Caius has an ace up his sleeve.

A new figure, a man cloaked in vantablack (Aro wanted to give him light gray since he can't actually be used for anything, upon second thought he didn't want the guy to get uppity and start using his gift.) steps forward.

No one's seen this guy before.

Everyone turns to Eleazar, and to Edward, wanting to know what this guy can do.

Eleazar stares at Torgrim, squints, tilts his head, squints harder, tilts his head the other way. Finally, he says "He has some kind of offensive power."

Edward doesn't know what the gift is, but he does know that Aro is shitting bricks. He grins, this guy isn't gonna be a problem.

Torgrim grins, theatrically snaps his fingers, and-

Rosalie blows up.

The Cullens and witnesses scream in equal parts shock and terror. Bella can't protect them after all.

Aro, knowing this was extremely lucky and also that they just killed Carlisle's daughter, wants to pack up and get the fuck out, now. They've shown that they have the power to destroy the Cullens, great, let's show them mercy and leave.

There's not going to be a happy ending now, not with Carlisle's daughter dead and Carlisle himself sobbing on the ground, clutching rubble a few hundred meters away, but the Volturi are now in control. There can still be a peaceful ending.

Edward, reading his thoughts, demands that the witnesses hold their positions, Aro isn't in control of this situation after all.

Caius decides to take the gamble. He tells Torgrim to go.

Stefan blows up.

Caius is now cackling loudly, while the Cullen witnesses are closing their eyes in dread. They were fools to believe they could ever stand against the Volturi, or that some newborn girl could possibly protect them from the Volturi.

Aro thinks about how miraculous his luck is, that not only is Torgrim not killing any Volturi, but he is killing the vampires present. This is everything he ever hoped for from Torgrim.

Edward hears all of this.

Being close to panicking, he finds himself incapable of closing his mouth. He tells everybody that Torgrim has no control of his power, and taunts him.

Torgrim has a few issues.

Here he is, so very powerful, he can kill anybody and everybody, he could render Jane, Alec, Felix, and Demetri all redundant, he could singlehandedly rule the world if he so wished.

Except he can't, because his power is randomized.

He possesses such great power, but no way to wield it.

Now, thanks to mathematically improbable luck, the gods have granted him one moment of glory.

And this rebel twerp means to ruin it for him. This rebel twerp dares to mock him.

Torgrim stares down Edward, narrows his eyes, and with every ounce of his being he concentrates on Edward Cullen.

He unleashes his power.

Kebi blows up.

Carlisle begs Edward to stop talking, everyone begs him to stop talking, Bella is losing control of her shield in distress.

Aro is this close to hyperventilating. Torgrim, for the love of god, don't try it again. He doesn't even need to, Alec can take advantage of Bella's inner turmoil now.

Before Torgrim can use his power again, Aro orders him to stop. Point proven, let's be merciful now. (Before Aro himself blows up.)

Edward, desperate for a win in the midst of all this disaster where he just goaded the Volturi into blowing up Stefan and Kebi, decides it's speech time. He starts talking about how the Volturi are tyrants, they're evil and corrupt and will kill just about anybody. Literally, they have a guy who'll kill anybody at all.

Caius starts doing the math on how many vampires Torgrim has to kill before Edward explodes. Sadly for Caius, Marcus was always the one who was good at maths, but Marcus doesn't care anymore. He asks anyway. Marcus, E = {1 ∈ 0 < n }, and P(Edward dies) = 1/E, uh- Marcus, help. MARCUS.

Aro is debating which option makes him look less terrible, to interrupt Edward and start bickering with this seventeen-year-old or wait until he's done before saying anything, or take advantage of Bella's panic and try Alec again, or-

Torgrim uses his power again.

Liam blows up.

Holy fuck, Siobhan should have prevented that. I guess Python is more powerful than she is.

Someone tackles Edward to the ground, the Cullen surrender, and Alice and Jasper arrive just in time to see that they've already lost.

Aro brings Renesmée and Bella with him back to Volterra, not so much out of interest for Renesmée so much as bringing the daughter is a perfect excuse to bring Bella as well. Bella is too dangerous to be left alone out there. In time, she will either come to see the Volturi as friends, or be executed.

This timeline is the nail in the coffin for his friendship with Carlisle, as he killed his daughter and then kidnapped Bella and Renesmée, but it's a sacrifice he can make.

(Though should the opportunity arise...)

A few months later, wanting to prove to the world that this wasn't just a one-off, that Torgrim is indeed a mighty man who can somewhat direct his power in the right direction and should be allowed to do things within the Volturi, Torgrim uses his power again.

Emmett blows up.

... this program is just refusing to harm the Volturi, huh.

#before i adjusted the list to include only currently living vampires #it was beautiful #alec carlisle and mary blew up #so much funnier than this #every other trial run has yielded volturi! #volturi #twilight #twilight meta #twilight renaissance #breaking dawn debacle #aro #caius #torgrim #marcus #edward cullen #kebi #liam #rosalie hale #emmett cullen #bella swan