#eventually i will . come to a conclusion here properly

[autolenaphilia]

The anti-kink moral crusade rests on a lot of transmisogynistic assumptions.

Of course it’s no surprise, since it rests on ideas from the moralizing arguments about bdsm made by radfems in the 70s. The only change is that they are being massively hypocritical and inconsistent about which kinks are bad now, as I pointed out before. Now it’s only certain kinks, like consensual non-consent and fauxcest, that are bad because they “fetishize abuse”, and not bdsm as whole, despite that being inarguably true about bdsm.

And that’s purely to broaden the appeal of such arguments, so that even self-described “leatherfags” can moralize about fauxcest. The morals and principles are frankly just “It’s okay if gay men call their boyfriends “daddy”, because I find that hot, but if a trans lesbian couples pretend to be sisters it’s evil.”

And you can’t really appropriate the radfem arguments about kink without taking their transmisogyny onboard, since they stem from the same transmisogynist bio-determinist root ideology. Janice Raymond in The Transsexual Empire explained trans women through a lens of pathological sadomasochism. Years before Blanchard’s autogynephilia concept, radfems have seen transfemininity and kink as the same thing.

The image of the trans woman painted by radfems then and now, is of privileged males appropriating the pain and suffering of real wombyn, and playacting this suffering for their own perverted sexual amusement. And that is the same image painted of trans women with incest and cnc kinks in modern callout posts. They just remove the explicitly terfy language to make it less obvious. Instead of making a mockery of misogyny in general, we are instead accused of mocking the experiences of the survivors of sexual abuse.

And that boils down to the same thing. Survivors of sexual assault are often as a group assumed to be afab. This ties into a specific transmisogynist discourse. It’s one that argues that afab children are more often sexually assaulted, and that trans women are not targeted by sexual violence pre-transition, and comes to the conclusion that this proves that trans women are male socialized and privileged. This is the fairly nasty transmisogynist undercurrent here.

And it’s proven when in discussions about the transmisogyny of callout culture, a common cliché line in response is that “clearly some people’s worst oppression is being told they are freaks for shipping incest.” This treats transfems as ultra-privileged and transmisogyny as not real at all.

Of course in reality, transfems are disproportionate targets of sexual violence even in childhood and pre-transition. And many survivors of childhood abuse have these problematic abuse-fetishizing kinks, and use it to deal with their trauma, including many of the kinky transfems being called out.

And even if no one involved in the sexual roleplay and fiction being criticized have trauma, the trauma of other non-involved people is not a good argument for its destruction. It’s a reasonable demand to ask for triggering material to be tagged properly so you can avoid it, it’s unreasonable to demand it shouldn’t exist.

Yet transfems are expected to accede to the latter demand. And I think this is because of what May Peterson calls transfeminized debt. It’s how we trans women in feminist circles are expected to be perfect women and perfect feminists to be acknowledged as women at all, instead of as monsters to be destroyed. Of course because nobody is perfect, this leads to every trans woman eventually being thought of as a monster.

We are treated as having to pay off the debt of male socialization/privilege to get basic human rights. And this in practice means conceding every disagreement with TME people, and agreeing to every demand they make of us. Or else we get the hot allostatic load treatment.

And that’s why kinky transfems are expected to fulfil the ridiculous demand from certain puritanical TME people that “I’m not involved in your kink, but I have trauma relating to it, so you can’t do it.” And are treated as evil monsters for not fulfilling it. It’s clearly transfeminized debt and transmisogyny, we are treated as privileged perverted monsters, inherently exempt from sexual violence. And that is used to justify sexual harassment, in the form of callout posts for our sex lives.

[kneelingshadowsalome]

Okay, so in one of the comments that you replied to in your “gold rush AU! Konig”, you stated that she’s heads over heels in love with him, but apparently hasn’t shown/told him yet. And even though he believes that she doesn’t love him, he’s still so in love with her and just wants to make her happy. (That has got to pull at her heartstrings because this odd but kind man simply just loves her.)

Would you be willing to do a next part? Showing that she was just resisting what she knew along and that was that she does love and only wants him. Because although he went about marrying her immediately instead of taking the time to get to know each other and even though he’s from an European background, who is a giant with an accent and working to hit gold to support her financially, he’s still been nothing but kind, loving, and can apparently rock her world in bed! (Basically she was resisting in giving in into admitting she loves him because she had this WHOLE mindset/vision about how it was ALL gonna go down but since it didn’t go the way she thought it would, she was resisting his love for the “fairytale” version she wanted.)

Eventually she finally confesses that she does love him but had to get to that conclusion slowly on her own terms. This of course makes him so happy and he feels so blessed to gain his wife’s love; he once again promises that he will do everything in his powers to ensure she’s happy for all the rest of the days of her life. Which he does because some time later he hits it big in gold which lets him upgrade the “shack” they’re living in to convert it into an actual home for them to spend the rest of their lives together (with future children).

And he asks her of what she wants him to buy for her since he can afford to get it for her, only for her to ask for a new and bigger (so he fits comfortably) reinforced bed; because she wants him to be able to rest properly in a comfortable bed AND she doesn’t want to hear it creak as he plows her into nirvana/heaven. This of course causes him to blue screen but once he reboots his brain, he promises that he’ll get the best bed that will not only support their nightly activities but be very comfortable for both of them.

It’s only once they get the new bed and use/“break it in”/“christen” it for the first time does he finally gets her pregnant on that first night.

Oh, your writings are just so good! 😊

Oh I love the bed scenario and König wanting to spoil her and the story about how he got her pregnant for the first time (you can’t tell me these two won’t have a small flock of annoying little kids running around eventually) so much! 😭💞

And I actually wrote a little something for this because people were putting me in jail for the roaring angst of the 1st part so here’s how these silly pookies got to their happily ever after:

Our pompous little mail order bride is, in fact, so in love with König that it’s not even funny.

It's so bad that she looks out the window and sighs as she waits for him to come home... Scoots away the minute she catches him in the horizon, of course. She has better things to do than wait by the window sill like some wanton prostitute!

She whimpers like one, however, when the door slams shut and her husband comes to grope her from behind, telling her he wants to take her on the table (there’s food there and they were supposed to eat first, what a horrible man!) Not to talk of getting wet just from the sight of him looming over her, she has no objections with getting spread on the sturdy planks for taking. She should probably be thankful that the dinner table is made of solid wood and is not some delicate piece hauled here from Europe because it could never take the brute force of König’s advances...

After they're both sated and done, he dares to dip his finger in one of the cast iron pots filled to the brim with stew. Has a taste while still inside her, only chuckles to himself when she furrows her brows from how uncivilised he is. What kind of a man barges in his home like a burglar, takes his wife on the table, then tastes the hearty stew like it’s only normal for a man to be hungry after plowing his lady until they're both shaking? Even the bed is about to break at night, these pieces of furniture have done nothing wrong to this man and yet he treats them like they're nothing but disposable bits of wood.

His lack of manners never ceases to astonish her; he even tries to give her a taste of the food too, and laughs when she pushes him away and straightens her skirts, how is she supposed to walk around with his seed running down her thighs? All the pretty things he got her from town are in need of a wash already, but she still hums a soft happy tune while looking at her reflection in the mirror, donning the pretty hat he just brought her along with coffee and flour. (She thinks he can’t hear or see her being visibly happy, but König takes mental notes every time her eyes shine a little brighter from his gifts. She's not lacking anything, that's for sure, and isn’t it nice that he remembered how she looked at that silly little hat when they walked by her favorite store…? Anything his princess wants, she shall have!)

Years and years of lonely digging in this harsh land far away from home have made her husband think that no woman could ever want him unless he buys their love, and she does enjoy the pretty little frills he brings her as offerings. But what would kill her is if he knew she had actual feelings for him… This was supposed to be an arrangement, a marriage between two adults, not a romantic passionate affair! That sort of thing only happens in books, that's the first thing she learned when she came here.

He should have courted her properly first, but now it's all ruined, there's no excitement and intensity... Except that her heart is always hammering in her chest, she feels like a trapped bird flitting inside her corset. She's always flustered when he goes under her skirts, her chest is about to collapse in on itself when she sees him flash a smile her way, carry her more silk and demurely apologize that the wrappings are dirty because of his hands, kiss her neck after copulation like it's the holiest place on earth...

And God Almighty, what would this man think of her if she confessed her love to him? He would probably laugh and think she’s a harlot who’s in desperate need of his cock, that she's indecent and impure…

Luckily, the brute is so stupid that he doesn’t see the way his little princess–as he now calls her–looks up at him when he traces her bottom lip with his thumb. She’s relatively sure he doesn’t notice the tiny gasps just before she comes, the helpless, adoring stares she shoots at him right after, because that glassy, worshipping stare of his own is only born of lust, that’s for sure.

He can’t see her figure flash in the window when he’s walking towards home, she’s made sure of that…

Or has she?

The man is dumb, but he’s not a total simpleton, even if his eternal sadness is slowly turning into a teasing, an even hungrier form of love. She fears he will simply devour her one of these days if he knew how deeply in love with him she is as well...

And she fears herself even more than she fears him. Didn’t the priest warn about exactly this kind of simple-minded, wanton lust in his last sermon? She was always taught that marriage is supposed to be about companionship and genial living together, not about sweaty, toe curling, mind numbing copulation.

They’re fornicating like animals in the little shack she has grown so fond of, shy to the changes he’s talking about every day since he struck some large gold vein. He openly fantasizes about getting them a large house, a small manor, even, and she knows it’s all just for her because this man is content with very little… So little, that he accepts any small crumb of affection she gives him like it’s an entire rain of manna from heaven.

And it’s only because she’s ashamed that she can’t show her true feelings for him. The gentlemen of the city now feel like fancy peacocks compared to this burly man who’s not afraid to get his hands dirty and his dick wet. Those men look delicate and boring and ridiculous next to the hairy giant who’s forearms she stares in the evenings like they’re her own personal cancan show.

It’s crazy, how she looks at him like he’s nothing but a piece of meat – are women even supposed to feel this way? She should say her prayers, because her foreign husband looks like a god while sharpening his ax by the fire, with slow, deliberate movements, the trembling hands finding a smooth, strong dance only when they’re wielding a pickaxe or a whetstone or a knife.

He catches her staring once, her frightful stare big and helpless in the flickering flames, and he gives her a sad, longing smile in return.

“I’m sorry, princess,” he gruffs softly. “Ich weiss… I know I should shave...”

Her head gives an involuntary shake, minimal and shy, because she doesn’t want him to shave. She adores that coarse stubble that leaves her skin red and irritated, she loves how he looks when he has so much going on in his life that he doesn’t have time to groom himself.

“No…?” He asks hesitantly, straightening a little on the chair that’s really only a piece of log. “You like it like this...?”

She nods. Shyly again, and just once, while her eyes drift on his lips.

It’s intimate, how the silence envelops them with both tension and grace. It’s all she can give right now, and he knows it, knows also that this whole exchange is basically a love confession. Her affection, her want, her dedication and surrender soar and swell all at once, and he can see it... All of it.

He rises, and abandons the ax, his softening stare never leaving hers. He walks to her like a gentleman, like he's Mr. Rochester himself, like she was Ms. Eyre – although she doesn’t want to be Jane Eyre and she doesn’t want him to be a dark, handsome gentleman. She wants him to be just as he is, the stranger from the North who works hard and loves even harder, who picks her up like she’s an angel and not a lady.

“Let’s get you to bed, hmm?”

His gaze is so soft, it’s starting to relax into some knowledge she has in her foolishness betrayed.

But it’s alright… Everything’s just as it should be.

She wraps her hands around his neck and whispers, “Yes,” and the smile that tugs at his lips finally melts into one of those I knew it smiles he sometimes wears when he brings her something nice from the town.

He doesn’t push her to reveal more information about how much she loves his stubble, but he does make her scream it out into the warm cottage air as he goes down between her legs. She doesn’t want to know what the local priest would say about this: a man making his mark on the insides of her thighs with that scraping beard, how he makes her core throb with his ever-hungry mouth. She doesn’t even care.

It’s a paradise and an inferno, where he’s sending her to, and who knew a brutish digger from some distant land could suddenly be so eloquent with his tongue? Who knew a man could do things like these to a woman...? Who knew married life could be like this?

“You liked that, didn’t you, princess,” he asks when he’s done with her, and holds her surprisingly gentle when she’s still shaking and squirming softly on the bed. Not God, not even the Devil, could cloud the full blown affection in her eyes. She’s in love – it’s not just lust, but love she feels for this man, and she feels like a fool for not recognizing she had gold in her hands all along.

“Yes,” she says, then smiles, then laughs, because it’s fairly obvious that she can’t speak those words even if she wanted to. He wrecked her so completely...

“I told you I’d make you happy, Sonnenschein.”

He smiles a little, looks down at her like she’s nothing but a baby who finally stopped her eternal crying.

“Oh I’m more than happy,” she says, this time tears clouding her vision, happy tears born from being free from years of imprisonment. He doesn’t strike her as the kind of man who cries, but there’s a faint glow in his eyes as well, a shimmer that both takes her in and pulls her under. This is something they don’t talk about in church... This is a thing they never write about in books.

She lays her hand on him, on the coarse cheek that is now slightly wet from a single tear.

“You’re crying,” she whispers, because her voice wouldn’t carry the weight of her words at this point.

“Ja…? Well... I’m happy too,” he explains, with a shortness of breath and a confusion to his voice.

He blinks the rest of it away, but the sweet moment stays, lingers on until she draws him into a kiss – another thing they never talk about in novels, a woman kissing a man – and she tastes both him and her on his lips, how well he loved her, and when he moans slightly from her reciprocating that love, she holds him closer, closer, closer… Until he shivers too.

[grandline-fics]

Dream A Little Dream

DESCRIPTION: They hear you say their name in your sleep

WARNINGS: just fluff

CHARACTERS: Killer, Smoker, | Law, Sabo

WORDS: 1,790

A/N: I've been hating how some of the requests I've been working on were turning out so I've paused them to go back to this idea with some other characters. Hope you all enjoy

*REQUESTS ARE OPEN*

DIRECTORY | PROMPT LIST

———————

KILLER

“No I don’t.”

“Yes, you do!”

“No. I don’t.”  Killer looked up from the stove at the sound of your argument with Wire came closer to the kitchen. Nothing disputes were always common around the ship so usually he didn’t pay them much mind but Killer always found himself taking a little more notice to things when they involved you.

“How do you even know? You’re asleep.” Wire argued as you both entered the kitchen, not noticing the vice-captain right away. Killer watched as you leaned against the counter and rolled your eyes at your crewmate. “What’s the big deal anyway? So what if you talk in your sleep?”

“It’s not the claim I talk in my sleep, it’s just that I don’t believe you, Wire.” You explained, turning to stare at your crewmate suspiciously. “I mean it wouldn’t be the first time you’ve tried to prank me. Unless you can get proof that I talk in my sleep or someone else- that isn’t just Heat- confirms it, then I’ll believe you.” You shrugged simply and finally turned to acknowledge your vice-captain with a smile now that the matter was dropped. “What’s for dinner?”

Late that night, Killer rose from the heavy haze of sleep that he had to force himself to resist falling back into. With a long, low groan, he stretched out his body and rubbed his tired eyes before settling his mask firmly into place. Rolling his shoulders and pulling his clothes on he dragged his heavy limbs out of his bed and absently walked through the ship until he was climbing the Crow’s Nest to relieve Gig. Wishing the other crew member a goodnight, Killer settled back and readied himself for what he could already tell would be a calm and uneventful watch shift. However he was surprised after a couple hours to see the hatch open and you appeared. 

“You’re not on the roster for tonight…” He noted, watching you close the hatch and adjust the blanket and pillow under your other arm. 

“Nope, tomorrow night.” You confirmed. “I always come up here when I have trouble sleeping. Is it okay if I join you?”

“Of course it is, make yourself comfortable.” Killer gestured you to pick somewhere to sit. You smiled happily and Killer returned it despite his smile being hidden beneath his mask. As you moved to settle in the seats near him, he tried to remain as relaxed as he could. Even with a single seat separating you both, he could still feel the natural warmth you always exuded, both a comfort and distraction for him. 

Killer watched as you placed the pillow on the windowsill and tucked your arms underneath it, deciding to forgo actually lying down so you could face him properly and idly chat with him through his watch. Eventually though Killer noticed your eyes were drooping and your voice would thicken, your statements broken by yawns in a signal that you’d finally fall to sleep. It wasn’t long before your breathing evened out and the peaceful silence fell. Killer turned his head away from you, deciding to actually finish his task and keep watch. He only had another couple hours and he’d be finished. Every so often through that time he’d hear you shift slightly and let out soft mumbles but for the most part you slept completely silent. Then your voice drifted up. “Hm…Kil…”

“Yeah? What’s-” Killer turned his head only to pause to see you were still fast asleep. Immediately he shut his mouth and continued to watch you sleep. While you’d said the beginning of his name, he wasn’t going to jump to conclusions that you were actually dreaming about him. After all a lot of words started with ‘kil’ and you could have been saying anything. 

“Killer…ask me out already…” Killer all but choked on his tongue, not expecting that but he definitely wasn’t complaining. Clearing his throat he composed himself just in time for the hatch to fly open and crash loudly against the floor causing you to jump awake and look around in startled confusion. Your eyes landed on Wire who arrived for his watch and with a huff you controlled your racing heart. 

“Oh oops, you were sleeping?” Wire asked before his eyes lit up. “You were sleeping! Killer, did they talk?” Immediately your heart began to race again and you looked to Killer who remained outwardly calm. 

“Nope, not a word.” He stated while getting up and stretched his stiff muscles, glad to go back to his own bed. Just before he could close his door, you appeared, hand bracing against the wood and stopping him. “What’s up?”

“You lied to Wire.” You stated and Killer’s eyebrows rose slightly. “I always win at poker because I know your tell when you lie. I did talk in my sleep, why didn’t you tell him what I said?”

“Well I think what was said would be best kept between us.” Killer smirked, emboldened by how adorably confused you looked. Then in the depths of your mind you must have recalled what you were dreaming about because your eyes widened and a small gasp broke free. 

“Night Kil, see you in the morning.” You quickly uttered, stepping back and hurrying to your room, your steps faltering when he called after you. “It’s a date.” 

SMOKER

You stared at the mountain of paperwork already waiting on your desk as you entered your office that morning. You’d stayed up so late clearing your desk only to see even more waiting for you. Slowly you looked at the mug of coffee in your hand and back to the paperwork and sighed heavily. It was going to be a long day and most likely night, you could already tell. Bracing yourself you sat down at your desk and lifted the first file waiting for you and your eye twitched immediately. Yeah, it was going to be a very, very long day. By midmorning your patience all but snapped and you made a list of the people responsible for your swiftly soured mood and left to go to the transmission room. Lifting the receiver you couldn’t help but feel a small sense of satisfaction stir within you as you began your announcement. 

“Attention G-5. Due to personnel ignoring protocol and handing in multiple reports from previous missions at once, a backlog has occurred. Until these reports have been fully processed the following Marines are prohibited from active duty off base. No exceptions.” You paused to let the beginning announcement set in, already you could hear a chorus of voices coming from outside the room. Then you began to clearly and concisely read out the long list of names of the offenders. 

From the training yard, Smoker and the others stopped to listen to the names being echoed through the speakers. As he ground his teeth against the cigars in his mouth he couldn’t help the mounting frustration as he recognised a lot of the names on his list were part of the unit he was meant to be going out on a mission with in just a couple days time. As Commander of the base he was sorely tempted to go against the transmission but at the same time he supposed these Marines needed to be taught a lesson in not just handing in bulk reports last minute. He also recognised the voice as yours and he didn’t want to annoy you given he was attracted to you too. Perhaps he could convince you to process certain Marines first. “The personnel on this list will be notified when they are cleared for duty again. Thank you.”

Smoker sighed heavily and within seconds he heard the multitude of voices surging up, all of them calling for him. Before he’d even gotten out of the training yard he was already swarmed by those who’d now been placed off-duty and asking him to pull strings or pull rank and still let them go on their missions. With a headache growing, Smoker glared at them all into shutting up and backing off before he made his way to your office. He knocked once and entered.

“How long will they take to process? There’s a mission-”

“That’s occurring in two days time, I’m aware.” You noted with a small nod, not even bothering to look up at him. You weren’t even surprised that he’d come here. It was inevitable he’d appear sooner rather than later. “I can only go as fast as I can and like I said, multiple reports are handed in at once. It’s a lot to go through.”

“Can the other administrators assist you-”

“Not without them neglecting their reports to process and this incident ends up getting larger.” You shook your head before settling your hands on the desk and looking up at him, Smoker immediately saw the tiredness in your eyes. He began to wonder how long this kept happening and today was the first time you decided to finally take action to prove a point. 

“Do you need anything?” He asked, eyeing the stacks of reports warily. He had to admit paperwork wasn’t his strength. You smiled softly, appreciating his offer but you shook your head. 

“Thank you but I’m fine.” 

Late that night Smoker was making his way through the corridors in his usual patrol before going to bed when he spotted the light coming through your open door. He knew you had a habit of staying up late but this was bad even for you. Were you forcing yourself to stay up even later to see process everyone as soon as possible? Smoker approached the door and saw you sleeping on the sofa against the wall in the room. You must have only intended to only take a small nap before going back to work again but your body had other ideas. Stepping inside he kept his steps as quiet as he could but it seemed he wasn’t quiet enough because you started to stir. “Smoker…”

“Sorry, didn’t mean to wake you.” Smoker told you but stopped beside you and saw you were still completely unconscious. You were dreaming and saying his name? Smoker couldn’t help but smirk when his name slipped from your lips again and you let out a small sigh.

“Be safe, Smoker…” You mumbled, your face scrunching in adorable annoyance. “Hand your report in on time.”

“Sure, you got it.” Smoker chuckled before reaching down to grab the blanket off the back of the sofa a drape it over you before leaving you to rest while also making sure to see to it that from now on everyone handed in their reports on time.

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

TAG LIST (If I've missed anyone or if you want to be added just let me know) @3v37773, @tsaaps , @i-am-all-love-puns-and-lazy , @sanemisnonexistenteyebrow , @fiery-captain-spider-santa @kabloswrld , @atanukileaf

[brucewaynehater101]

Hear me out. The Joker is undying (not immortal). I’ve seen this concept before in a couple of fanfics and I was thinking…

Tim is kidnapped by Harley while doing some birdwatching. He is joker junior’ed as Timothy Drake. Everything stays the same and he still shoots the Joker, but Bruce takes him to the cave, still not knowing who JJ is. Tim leaves the cave and all is ok for a bit.

But then Joker comes back to life. Bruce, Babs, Harley, and Tim are all shocked because the man was literally shot though the heart, but they all eventually move on, assuming that the Joker is immortal. All of them except Tim.

Tim becomes obsessed with finding the logistics of Joker’s supposed “immortality.” He begins consistently breaking into Arkam or Joker’s hideouts to try and (indirectly) kill the Joker in different ways

Eventually, he comes to the conclusion that the Joker’s corpse sucks in the life force of whoever’s closest to him to bring it back to life. Depending on the severity of the injury, his victim could drop dead in an hour or a few months.

Of course, being Joker Junior, Tim assumes that his body will do the same if he ever dies. That is the reason why he avoids death better than anyone he knows.

Fast forward to years later and he is stuck in a room with the Joker, trying to convince Jason to not kill the clown.

Absolutely fantastic idea! One, I love undying Joker hcs as long as he is still somehow killable. You can add a layer where Tim has cut off some of Joker's limbs or something to prevent him from respawning/commiting crime. As long as Joker dies again, he gets fully healed. Tim finds this aspect to be annoying as fuck.

The more people around when Joker revives, the more to share the life force drain.

I also want to acknowledge that the Joker Junior addition to this AU is amazing. So much to explore there as well.

Here's how I imagine the dialog to go for Jason and Tim:

Tim: "You can't kill him."

Jason: "Of course you'd say that, Pretender. You Bats may not kill, but I do."

Tim: "No. You literally can't kill him."

Jason: "Do you not see this gun I'm waving around?"

Tim: "If you kill him, it will kill you."

Jason: "If that's the price it costs."

Tim: "Please don't. Bruce couldn't handle it if you died again."

And basically them going back and forth because Tim can't get to the fucking point and Jason is too emotional to properly navigate the conversation

[leanteam43]

"Reid's Dating The K9 Handler?"

(Dating Spencer as a K9 Handler)

summary : falling for Dr.Reid as a K9 Handler for the FBI

coloring : Morgan | Reid | Prentiss | Y/N | Garcia

pronouns : they/them | GN!reader!

warnings : Mentions of Spencer being taken hostage, I think that's all? If there's any more I'll update this !!

a/n's : HELP ME ITS POURING OUT - 🌿 | idk D:- 🎸 | EAT LOTS OF HEART SHAPED COOKIES - 🐇

Morgan told him not too

"Reid you can't date the K9 handler" "Why not??" "They'll make you their bitch" "?? What??"

Y'all met at an FBI K9 Demonstration,

the BAU was there to show support (strauss deffo did NOT force them /s)

Reid caught one glance at you and was HOOOOKED

Love at first sight? No this man was whipped at first sight

Morgan and Emily caught on immediately

The teasing was BRUTALLLL

"Pretty boy's got a cruuuushhh~"

After the demonstration was over, Emily called you over to introduce you too

"Y/N, have you met my colleague, DR. Spencer Reid?"

Wing (Wo)men Morgan and Prentiss™️

One handshake and a smile and suddenly Mr. Chatter Box couldn't form a proper sentence

"You two actually have a lot in common! Joining the FBI so young and all."

Spencer tried impressing you by knowing facts about dogs but you knew way more, which ended up impressing him

Teaching him to say 'Belgian Malinois' properly.

"Mal-in-waa" "? Mal-inois?" "Nono-"

Eventually you two do end up in a relationship, after a lot of dates being cancelled (having no love life should really be in the job description)

Being polar opposites because you passed the FBI's physical test with flying colors and he had to get a free pass

Hotch letting you and your K9 come on certain cases

"Y/N's here??" "They work here, genius."

Break-room dates

"I'm surprised nobodies come in yet!" "I locked the doors."

Him trying, and struggling, to handle your K9 when you go on vacation.

"Y/N I've done everything you wrote and it's still bouncing off the walls." "IT??"

Spencer being the proudest bf EVERRR™️

Penelope thinking you two are the cutest couple in the building

"When are you two getting married?" *Cue both of you choking on your drink*

One of the many times spencer gets taken hostage TRUST you and your K9 are on the crime scene within the next hour

Park !! Dates !!

"Do you wanna try throwing the ball for (K9 Name)?" "Uhmm.."

Holding hands while walking your K9 :C

Spencer is lowkey scared of your K9 but in the "I know you could eat me if you wanted too, but I trust you won't" type of way

In conclusion,

i luv spencer reid spencer reid brainrot luv that silly little nerdy white man <3

[animasolaoriginal]

I n f a t u a t e d ♦️ELEVEN

CHAPTER ONE◾TWO◾THREE◾FOUR◾FIVE SIX◾SEVEN◾EIGHT◾NINE◾TEN ELEVEN

He asked her to submit and she (more or less) agreed, completely unaware of what really awaits her. Now he just has to help her say goodbye to her old life, in the only way he knows...

ruthless nightclub owner ❌ innocent young woman with a crush

WARNING: NSFW! Explicit sexual content. Age gap. Size difference. Dubcon elements. Dom/sub dynamic. Praise kink. Free use/power play. Vaginal sex. Humiliation/Objectification if you squint. (For more tags, check it on AO3!) // WORDS: 6.5k

A/N: Welcome to SEASON TWO! Here's what happened...

P R E V I O U S L Y

Once there was a girl, 19 years young, cute and innocent, but mature enough to have one wish: to hook up with a man she'd seen only from afar. His confident and dominant aura had mesmerized her as she'd first laid eyes on him through the crowd on the dance floor of his club, how he'd lounged at the bar, eyes scanning the people dancing and drinking, and one day, their gazes had met.

But he had just watched, and it was her who approached him first. So you could say, whatever happened next might have been her fault. Her own naive little dream come true, though in her innocence she had not been prepared for what he had planned for her. What he saw in her. She'd wanted a hook-up, maybe something to dream about when the loneliness of her life came crashing down on her again, a fond memory, but it wasn't just a hook-up for him. It was more, so much more.

Because she was perfect.

The perfect submissive. Someone he could lead through life, take by the hand, take over the back of the couch, take to heights she had never even dreamed about. And oh how he showed her...

She woke up in his bedroom after he'd taken her away, coerced by a little drink, a little help, erasing that particularly memory of how she got there forever. It didn't matter. She was with him now. And she was meant to stay, even if she didn't know that yet. He was a goner as soon as she asked him to take her virginity. What an opportunity. Taking all her firsts. Served on a silver platter, just for him.

In her innocence, she expected him to be gentle and stick to his words, make her a real woman, because that was what happened when your virginity was taken, right? Oh how naive she'd been. Of course he took it, but before that he made her choke on his cock, taught her how to suck him off properly, made her more familiar with the very thing that would assault all her holes eventually.

And he didn't stop there. Butt plugs, dildos, vibrating eggs, he tested it all on her, and strangely enough, she let him. Was it submission, fear or curiosity? Who knows. There were moments where she did protest, showed a little bit of defiance, questioned him, but it only ended in him forcing his cock up her ass. A punishment she soon learned could also be a reward. It was all confusing to her, but she always came back to the same conclusion: she made this happen, she came to him, she asked him to pound the virgin right out of her, so to speak (not that she would ever use those exact words).

And he did, pounded, rammed, hammered, pistoned, slammed, stabbed, deep and hard and fast, until her head would shut down and a blissful emptiness took over. And it was that feeling that made her stay, not that she even tried to get away. Why would she? He was handsome, rich, experienced, the perfect match, right?

And despite all the vile things he did to her, she was yearning for the moments afterwards, the gentle touches, the strong grip of his arms, the pain-easing embraces. And the praises. The good girls and well dones, the proud smiles on his lips, the approving nods. She came to a point where she'd let him do anything just to be called a good girl. It was as disturbing as it was easy. It would excuse everything.

The fucking her in her sleep, the bullying of bruises he'd pummeled into her before, over and over again, in every position imaginable, at least for her, because he clearly had more ideas in mind, wherever and whenever he wanted, he would take her. He'd let her cockwarm him while he would work in his office, and she'd sit on her knees between his legs for hours, suckling on his cock, delving into the head-empty-state with pleasure. She'd be confused when he'd reward her with a deep anal pounding afterwards, but she'd take it nonetheless.

It was her purpose. She was his to use. A body with holes to fill. A toy to play with. A doll to move about as he saw fit. And she grew into her role, more with every passing hour. And those 48 hours, that single weekend, was packed with new experiences, new sensations, as he explored her durability, what she was capable of, how much she could endure. And she surprised him. She'd be sore, of course, but she wouldn't whine, not too much anyway, and he could just continue.

A perfect match.

And it led him to make a decision he would not regret: to keep her. To make her his completely. And so, on a dreary Monday morning, he took her back, to her old life, causing her to think he would really get rid of her after all, but then everything would change. He told her of his plan to keep her, told her that he'd terminated her apartment lease, resigned her from her badly-paying job. And he even asked her, despite doing all this behind her back, asked her to submit.

And in the end, she couldn't make that decision, she needed him to make it for her. She asked him to give her an order, and of course he did, and she did as he told her: she submitted, gave her life into his hands. Became his.

But that's not where the story ends. There is more on the horizon for the two strangers that met each other on a whim, whose lives entwined by chance. Who found each other compatible on multiple levels. When bodies and souls merge, stronger feelings arise. And a little infatuation can turn into something else. Maybe it's love, or maybe it's a deep, dark obsession...

TEN 🟥 ELEVEN 🟥 TWELVE

He is honestly very surprised how well she took it. No apartment. No job. Dependent on him and him alone. Her old life taken from her just like that. And she wants it. There's no denying the look in her eyes as she knelt in front of him, asking him to give her an order. So submissive, so innocent in her own needs. Almost a little too easy, but still perfect.

He leads her into her bedroom, frowning at the décor. A small bed covered in colorful quilts and blankets and pillows in every shape imaginable. There's even a stuffed animal on it. A tattered looking wolf. He raises his eyebrow at the sight, a smirk dancing on his lips. As if this was meant to be. The image of a little girl cuddling the wolf to her chest, seeking comfort in the presence of a predator, makes his stomach tense up. He knows he'll be that wolf for her, giving her comfort as well as the unpredictability of a monster led by its natural urges to dominate.

She moves timidly through her (former) own space, shoulders sagged a little as her eyes move over various surfaces. He leans against the door frame, watching her, before his gaze wanders over the fairy lights on the wall and the bright curtains and the random assortment of trinkets on a dresser ranging from snow globes to plastic figurines to other dust collecting clutter. There are pictures above her bed, polaroids, mostly of landscape or architecture, not many people.

Walking towards a small bookcase in the corner, she runs her fingers over the spines of old looking books, but in the end moves away again and opens the door to her closet. A tiny space, filled with colorful clothes. There she bends down and picks up a backpack before she starts stuffing it with randomly picked things. He's not sure if he'll let her wear her old clothing, but he's asked her to pack stuff she may need, and maybe those old rags give her comfort, remind her of something. He allows it, for now.

She flinches when he steps behind her, his hand moving through the sparsely filled space, running over the soft fabrics hanging from the rail. He picks up a pastel pink colored dress, with little white flowers adorning the skirt portion, a thin belt cinching it up in the waist, a high rounded neckline keeping it very modest.

“Wear this,” he tells her quietly, and she looks up at him, biting her lip, but ultimately nods.

She hesitates then, unsure if he wants her to strip right away, so he takes that decision from her by putting his hands on her shoulders, slowly guiding her towards the bed. He puts the dress over the back of a chair next to the small desk, his eyes curtly grazing over the cluttered space filled with notepads and pencils and a box filled with tiny beads. He couldn't even name all the hobbies she's assembled on the tiny surface. But it tells him she is in dire need of having the clutter in her life (that's also in her head) re-organized, stripped down to the bare minimum, taken completely.

“Bend over the foot of the bed,” he says nonchalantly. Her breathing gets a little harder as she approaches her small bed, slowly leaning over the wooden frame, the boards creaking when she puts her weight on them. She folds her body over until her chest is pressed into the soft covers, elbows digging into the colorful quilt, hands clutching at the fabric, head turned to watch him out of the corner of her eye, ass raised, legs shaking slightly.

He steps behind her, gently pushing up her skirt, hands gliding over her curves, making her skin pebble beneath his touch. His fingers hook into the waistband of her panties, slowly drag them down until they pool around her ankles where he leaves them, keeping her from spreading her legs too much. He presses a few kisses up the backs of her thighs, hands sliding up and down her legs before he straightens up fully again, one hand on her lower back, the other unbuckling his belt.

His cock is already hard when it springs free from its confines, and he grabs it, gives it a few hard pumps, watching the girl in front of him as she shivers, forcing herself to remain calm while she waits for him to use her. A quick swipe through her folds tells him she's ready, or at least getting ready. Coating himself with her wetness, smirking at the way her back twitches when he drags his cock along her slit, he doesn't wait any longer.

Pushing into her with small rolls of his hips, he digs his fingers into the fabric of her bunched-up skirt, holding her in place when she starts squirming against him. Inch by inch he sinks deeper, forcing through the resistance, ignoring her tiny wails, while his heart is beating harder in his chest, his stomach already tense, the sight of her in her childish bed making him feel like an even bigger monster.

A growl escapes him, and he pulls her hips against him as he sinks the rest of his cock into her tight warmth with a harsh snap of his pelvis. She whimpers, burying her face in the blankets, thighs twitching. His hands move up her curved back, fingers curling around her shoulders, gripping her, anchoring her as he starts drawing back slowly only to push in with a force that makes her squeal. He's going deep, slow and steady, repeating the same motion over and over again, precise thrusts of his hips against her cushioned rear.

She cries out every time he slams into her cervix, body arching, hands white-knuckling the sheets, her legs kicking helplessly. Her walls clench around him, either fighting the intruder or sucking him in deeper. The same struggle is in the girl before him as she bucks her hips back, straining her shoulders under his tight grip, squirming or moving along with him. He can't tell. He doesn't care either way. He only picks up the pace.

Her legs slam rhythmically into the wooden boards of the bed, strangled noises escaping her, every plunge accompanied by the soundscape of skin slapping against skin and that traitorous squelching of her wet cunt getting to terms with his intrusion. Her whines turn into moans while he keeps pounding into her harder and faster, in and out, back and forth, until his own breathing gets rougher.

He takes one hand from her shoulders and slips it beneath her, fingers brushing over her fluttering stomach until they find her throbbing clit. She squeaks when he touches it, arching her back, body contorting as more uncontrollable spasms crash through her. She comes with a wail, pussy clamping around him hard enough for him to fight the onslaught of sensations, the need to come as well, but he keeps rubbing her nub while holding his steady rhythm of hammering into her, letting her ride that high for as long as possible.

His grunts fill the small space, her mewls are muffled, hands clutching at the blankets, head thrashing. Leaving her clit to press his hand to her belly, he moves his other hand around her neck and grips her throat, making her cry out as he lifts her up and against him, holding her tightly as he continues to ram into her, his stomach tight, his balls ready to burst. Limp fingers try to grip at his wrist as he squeezes her, her noises turning into soundless, breathless gasps as she struggles in his hold.

He wraps his other arm around her middle, lifting her up a little more, his cock pistoning in and out rapidly. The slapping sounds add to the squeaking of the bed, a cacophony of noises that drive him mad with need. Growling into her ear, he moves his hand back down between her legs, rubbing hard at that sensitive bundle of nerves, making her writhe and twitch, pathetic little gasps falling from her parted lips.

“Come for me,” he grunts, head spinning, heart racing, the tension building up into an ache he can't get enough of. “Come on my cock!”

She's shuddering, head thrashing into his shoulder, eyes rolling back, mouth wide open as she succumbs to the sensations. He feels her cunt clamping down on him as her orgasmic contractions crash through her tiny frame once more. He eases the grip on her throat, wraps his arm around her chest instead. Her soft little whimpers, that constant string of high-pitched little “Ah!”s, cloud up his mind, drive him right over the edge.

He groans and grunts and growls before he gives her that final hard thrust, burying himself as deep as possible inside her tight warmth, while the tension explodes within him, balls pumping, stomach tensing, as he empties himself inside her, painting her walls with his hot seed. She's limp in his embrace, hard breaths mixed with small whines, arms and legs boneless. He savors her warmth, that wetness coating his skin, the little shudders making his cock twitch as her tight cunt keeps milking him for all he's worth.

Slowly he lets go of her, drapes her back over the foot of the bed, carefully pulls out of her before he watches his spend dripping from her clenching hole. Then he bends down and pulls up her panties, trapping his cum, feeling it gathering in the fabric, warm and wet as he cups her mound. After putting himself away again, not even caring about their combined juices seeping into his underwear, he flips her skirt back down, makes her stand, then turns her and leans her against the wall, his hands cupping her face as he takes her in.

“You look so beautiful when you're all fucked out and boneless, you know that?” he whispers with a dark smirk, leaning closer to brush his nose against hers. She looks at him out of hooded eyes, cheeks flushed, lips still parted and trembling, a little bit of drool gathering in the corner. “Head empty, hm?”

She nods into his hands, her lips twitching into a shy smile. He closes the distance and captures them for a soft kiss, holding her against him until he feels her small hands fisting at the back of his jacket. He picks her up easily, still glued to her mouth, tongue lazily sliding against hers, as he carries her to the side of the bed and sits down, arranging her on his lap with his arms wrapping around her tightly.

Leaning into him, she moves her mouth against his, slowly gaining in confidence, her fingers sliding up his back, gripping at his shoulders, teasing at his nape. Her warm crotch presses into his leg, and he is tempted to give her another load, but then refrains, inhaling deeply, turning his head slightly. Her lips slip along his jaw and down his neck before she rests her cheek on his shoulder, breathing hard.

“Thank you,” she whispers barely audible, and he rubs her side in response, pressing his lips to the top of her head.

They sit like that for another moment, and he has to admit, it's growing on him to just have her in his arms, holding her, feeling her small body move against him when she breathes deeply, her warmth is a comfort he didn't know he needed. But the beast inside him isn't entirely convinced yet. She may be pliant now, but he's seen the defiance in her eyes. He shouldn't go easy on her too soon.

Exhaling loudly, he grabs her shoulders, startling her out of her stupor when he puts her on her feet, her legs still trembling as she stares at him with wide eyes. He tilts his head towards the desk chair, waiting for her to follow the motion. Her head turns slowly, a tiny nod jerking her chin as she sees the sundress he wants her to wear.

“Strip,” he tells her, leaning back on the bed on one arm, the other hand resting heavy on his thigh as he watches her intently.

She licks her lips, swallows, her chest rising when she inhales deeply, then she moves her hands back and fidgets with the zipper of her skirt. Her eyes wander over his face, too timid to hold his gaze properly, her cheeks splotched in many different shades of red. Putting her hands on her waist, she shimmies the skirt down her hips, bends lower, back stiff and quite uncoordinated, trying to keep looking at him before she tilts her head and steps out of it a little clumsily, swaying dangerously.

His hand shoots out to steady her, and she flinches, looking at him before biting her lip. He can't help the amused twitch of his lips. She blushes even more, quickly straightening up again while he retrieves his hand. Taking a shuddering breath, she crosses her arms and grabs the lower hem of her shirt, slowly pulling it up and over her head before letting it fall to the skirt lying next to her feet.

Now she's standing in front of him in her soiled panties and her worn down sneakers, slim arms and legs, tiny tits, a narrow waist with the hint of a curve to her hips, not typically a tremendously sexy sight for him, but she's trying, he knows it, trying to impress him. He keeps watching her, not issuing any noise of either judgment or confirmation. She's hesitant when she turns to the dress on the chair, her chest moving, her small breasts shivering, nipples hardening the longer they're exposed to the stale air of the room.

As soon as her hand closes around the rose colored fabric, he stands up, startling her when he steps behind her, towering over her. Taking the dress from her, he nudges her to turn around, and when she looks up at him, chewing on her already swollen lips, he tilts his head. “Arms up,” he says quietly, and she does as she is told. He slips the dress over her head and flattens it along her body, then pulls her hair free before his hands rest on her shoulders.

Cute. Is one word that comes to mind. Beautiful another. He raises a hand and tucks a strand of silky hair behind her ear, watching the blush spreading down her neck to her exposed arms. The sleeves fray out a little over her deltoid, accentuating her slim shoulders. He runs his hand down along her arm, hooking it around her elbow, pulling her closer to him.

Her big eyes look up at him, and he watches her, fighting the urges crawling back to the surface (and the blood back into his cock). Exhaling loudly, his breath making loose hairs around her face fly, he clenches his jaw and lets go of her, steps back. “Alright, finish packing. I'll wait out there,” he says and turns around, leaving the tiny space that is her childish little bedroom. Before he leaves, his eyes fall onto the wolf plushie.

Shaking his head with a dark smirk, he keeps walking and settles on the couch in her living room slash kitchen, listening to her rummaging through her drawers and dressers while scrolling through his emails on his phone.

Her shuffling footsteps make him look up. She's holding the straps of the backpack that seems to burst at the seams with how full she's packed it. Her eyes are lowered, a nervous twitch to her lips before she starts chewing on the bottom one. “I'm done,” she whispers.

He stands up and walks towards her, grabbing the backpack from her small hand before flinging it over his shoulder. “And this is all?”

“It's all that fit,” she admits, still biting her lip. He moves his free hand to her face, rubbing his thumb over her lip and pulling it from between her teeth with a firm press. She looks up at him, her eyes a little watery.

“Don't worry, sweetheart. My people will grab the rest. I won't dispose of anything,” he tells her quietly. “Well, except for that couch, which is just awful.” The comment makes her lips quirk up, and he smiles at her in return.

“Thank you,” she whispers, genuine gratitude swimming in her big eyes. He caresses her cheek, holding her face, before leaning down to press a kiss to her forehead.

It's almost too easy how this all worked out. She is so submissive, eager to please, eager to follow him wherever he drags her. He just ripped her from her old life, abducted, used, forced into her new reality, and she still thanks him for it. What a beautiful little creature. Simply perfect.

He shifts the strap of the backpack on his shoulder and grabs her face with both hands, bending over her as he tilts her chin up. For a moment he just looks at her, takes her in, every inch of her soft face, noticing the twinkle in her eyes, the blush on her cheeks, the warmth under his palms, the slight tremble to her lips.

Inhaling deeply, he closes his eyes and leans his forehead against hers. “I wish I could pay this place the proper respect by bending you over every surface there is, oh trust me, I'd imagined it while I was waiting, throwing you on that awful couch, splaying you out on the counter, I'd even take you on that horrendous rug down there, but I'm afraid we don't have time...” he closes with a sigh.

She shivers, her breath hitching, and when he looks at her, leaning back a little, her face is fully flushed and her lips parted. He smirks at her.

“Did you think about it too?” he whispers, his breath fanning over her face. “Never had a boy over, right?” She nods into his hands, averting her eyes. “So all these surfaces have never been used like that?” He sighs again. “So tempting,” he whispers, licking his lips.

He lowers his hands and lets them rest on her shoulders as he straightens up and looks around the small space, his mind reeling with images of them doing it wherever his eyes land. Sure, there's not a lot of options, the place is tiny and so are the surfaces, but he would have made it work. He'd even fuck her in that minuscule shower. There's a certain thrill to shoving his big body into tiny spaces, his cock certainly can relate – and it twitches dangerously as he remembers the tight grip of her beautifully small cunt.

Taking a deep breath, he shakes his head trying to rid himself of those tempting fantasies. They'll have time to fuck elsewhere later. Maybe he shouldn't prolong the moment of letting her say goodbye to her own little space too much. He looks back down at her, catching her watching him intently. It's rare to see her so curious, so eager in her own little wishes, and the way she looks at him, he can tell she's having the same thoughts he had.

A smirk plays around the corner of his lips, and he notices a deeper blush forcing itself onto her cheeks. “We should go,” he says then, tilting his head. “Are you ready?”

Her eyes move down, all eagerness and curiosity gone, as she nods timidly. His hand is back on her chin, pushing it up gently. “Last chance to tell me to fuck off,” he teases with a grin, challenging her. She looks up with a bit of shock in her big eyes.

“I... I would never do that,” she murmurs softly, blinking before looking away again. “I... I want this,” she then adds, and he watches her inhale deeply, squaring her shoulders. “I... I want to be... with you...” Her voice is that soft hum in the stale air around them, and it softens his heart – but thickens his cock.

He caresses her bottom lip, gently slipping his thumb into her mouth when she looks up at him. “My good girl,” he whispers fondly as he watches her close her lips around his digit, giving the slightest of sucks. Her eyes seem to glaze over, pupils dilating, and he just knows her mind is emptying as she focuses on him.

She needs this, needs him, and it's the best fucking feeling, he couldn't have asked for anything more (not that he would have actually asked because he doesn't ask for anything, but you get the picture). Her obedience, submission, her trust, it all gathers in his stomach, a pleasant heat that he can't get enough of.

God, he wants to fuck that cute little face so bad! He pulls his hand back with a groan, fighting the urges that make his fingers twitch before he curls them around her slim shoulder. His grip is tighter than intended, and she flinches slightly, a small gasp falling over her parted lips. “The power you have over me,” he says under his breath, clenching his jaw.

His eyes meet hers, and she seems confused, and she should be. Never before had a woman been able to get this deep under his skin. All his life, he had been the dominant one, using women for what they are: holes to fill, bodies to satisfy his urges with. Nothing more. He's kept the occasional submissive, or rather, slave, plaything, toy, but he had been growing bored with them so fast, it had been a little concerning.

But this girl, despite only knowing and having her for a weekend and a few hours, this tiny innocent girl seems to hit all the spots that make him absolutely crazy about her. He's never been this sure about anything in his life, and he's taken numerous risks before. He wouldn't be who he is now if there weren't risks involved, both in life and in business, and even though it seems to be a major risk to bind her to himself after only this short amount of time, he feels more than confident about it.

Because she is perfect. And she wants this.

Having her around 24/7 will be a new adventure, and he's looking forward to it. Oh he's already imagining it. Her little frame, preferably naked, possibly kneeling somewhere, waiting for him, ready to be used, and he only has to approach her to get her to service him... whenever he wants. The thought makes his cock strain against the confines of his pants.

To rid himself of the temptations, he steps back, grabs her hand and turns around, pulling her after him. He feels her stumbling slightly, surprised by the sudden movement, but she follows nonetheless. When they reach the door, he catches her looking back towards her old bedroom, it's only a few seconds, before she looks back at him, and he squeezes her hand and gives her a small smile that makes her blush instantly.

He meets one of his men in the hallway outside her apartment, and while she stares at the other man in slight shock, he only exchanges a nod with him and watches how the broad guy enters the tiny space. As they descend the many stairs, more of his people enter the apartment building, ready to rid it of any evidence of the girl he's dragging after him.

She seems a little hesitant, and he can't blame her, having strange men rummage through the stuff she used to call her own is not easy. But she shouldn't worry, he's planned this out better than he's planning most of his business deals. She'll be in for a surprise.

They reach his car, and there are two moving trucks parked on the small street. Her grip on his hand is tight as her eyes follow the line of workers vanishing into the building. He pulls her to the trunk, opens it with his free hand and puts her backpack into it. A strange sight, a battered old backpack, stuffed to the brim, in the spotless little space in the back of his car. But it isn't the most unusual sight it has seen.

For a moment he remembers stuffing other things, girls like her, into it, blindfolded, gagged, tied up to fit, scared out of their little minds, and he's glad it had been a different story with her. She came to him. She wanted this. And it's only fair to give her the best treatment he can think of, the best in his mind anyway. No matter the grip she has on him, this is still all about his pleasure, and luckily she knows it by now.

When he closes the lid of the trunk with a thud, she flinches, then meets his eyes. He cups her face with one hand, caressing her lips with his thumb, his eyes roaming over her soft features. She melts under his touch, a shy smile grazing her mouth, eyes warm and pliant, pupils dilating despite the bright light around them. He gives her a wink and watches the blush creep up her cheeks.

After he put her into the passenger seat and buckled her in (which she doesn't seem to get used to, as she watched him with wide eyes and trembling lips while he leaned over her), he slips behind the wheel, puts on his own seat belt and starts the engine with a roar that echoes through the quiet street.

She settles into the seat, small hands clasped together on her lap, that pastel pink dress he chose a stark contrast to the dark interior of his car. Once he pulls into the rows of traffic, his hand finds her thigh, and she stiffens before she relaxes as his long fingers curl around her soft leg, slipping between them, feeling her warmth. Imagining the stain his cum had left on the fabric of her panties.

He keeps having these images flicker through his mind, and the longer he drives through the crowded city, the harder he gets from just thinking about whatever he could do to his new plaything, the willing girl next to him. The possibilities are endless. As they stop in front of a red light, he slips his hand deeper between her thighs, fingers pushing firmly against her sex, and she squirms, but ultimately opens her legs a little, allowing him to tease the damp fabric of her underwear.

Pressing down hard, he quickly finds her clit, and she gasps, her legs twitch and threaten to clamp down around his hand, but he feels the effort she's putting into keeping them open. He looks at her, that little thing on his passenger seat, so small, flushed and aroused, red splotches dancing on her cheeks while her eyes are hooded as she worries her lip between her teeth. He keeps circling that sensitive bud that throbs under his touch, until he has to take his hand away to shift gears as the traffic light changes to green.

Her sigh mirrors his. He chuckles softly, while she looks away, her face even redder now. They keep driving in silence until he pulls into a parking garage below one of the stores he wanted to take her to. It's very quiet when he cuts the engine and turns to her. She is still chewing on her lip, and he reaches out to stop her as he notices how swollen they already are.

She looks at him, and her mouth opens slightly, an instinct as his thumb moves closer, but he pulls it away before she can suck on it again. So predictable, his little kitten. He smirks at her, admiring the small pout that crosses her features. Forcing himself to look away, he gets out of the car and walks around the hood to her side, opens the door and leans over her to unbuckle her seat belt. She hasn't even tried to do it herself, she's learning already.

When his face is in line with hers, he grabs her chin and presses his lips to hers for a quick kiss, holding her gaze. “You'll be a good girl for me, right?” he whispers, hovering close to her, waiting for her to react. She nods. “You'll do whatever I tell you?”

“Yes, sir,” she breathes against his lips, and he gives her another kiss in response. Leaning back with a smile, he then extends his hand. She grabs it instantly and lets him pull her out of the car. She's so tiny against him, it melts his heart, which in turn sends a strange heat lower down his body.

Squeezing her hand, he pulls her away with another sigh of frustration. As much as he wants to press her against his car and fuck her raw in this very parking garage, he knows he shouldn't and he won't. This fucking restraint. Instead he drags her towards the elevator and punches the button a little too hard while simultaneously trying not to break the girl's hand with how tight he's holding it.

She doesn't protest, though, just follows him, her old sneakers squeaking on the polished floor. He fights another image of railing her in the elevator, right under the surveillance camera, their reflections all around them, her face contorted in pleasure as he bounces her up and down on his thick cock while the small cubicle pushes its way up the building. A stifled groan slips from his throat as he closes his eyes to force the thought away, and it's the little squeeze of her hand that grounds him again. Inhaling deeply, he opens his eyes and looks down at her.

Seeing her soft expression, full of equal parts curiosity and anxiety, he just shoots her a strained smile and pulls her against his side, savoring her warmth, the little flutter of her breath as she leans into him. They stand in comfortable silence until the doors slide open with a ding, and he grabs her hand again and pulls her along gently, keeping her next to him until they reach an unassuming door.

He never walks into shops through the front door if he can help it, it's become a good habit, a necessary need sometimes. Rapping his knuckles gently against the slick surface, he waits, and only a few moments later, the door opens, and they are greeted by a smiling older woman with big hair and too much perfume. He nods at her and she bows her head as she welcomes them into the backroom of her store.

The girl pushes against him instinctively, timid and confused, searching his body heat, the safety of his hold, and he grants it to her, putting one arm around her slim shoulders as he guides her through the narrow hallways until they enter a carpeted room lined with mirrors and a shelf full of tailor equipment.

“What an adorable little thing,” the woman drawls in obviously fake enthusiasm as she closes the door behind them, shutting out the muffled chatter from the front of the shop where other clients rummage through the various clothing racks. “So how did you like the clothes I sent you? Was everything alright with them?”

He looks down at the girl who meets his gaze, a little frown between her brows. “They were perfect, but I'd like you to measure her properly. You got the list I made?”

“Of course, sir,” the seamstress replies in her borderline annoying sing-sang voice. If it wouldn't be for her discretion and their long history together, he couldn't stand spending another minute with her. “I'm glad you brought her, it's always easier to find the right things if I can get my hands on the object wearing them.”

Object. While he chuckles at the word, he sees the girl in his arm frowning deeply. But that's what she is, that's what they all were. Objects, toys, dolls he could dress and undress and do whatever he wanted to. He leads her to the little platform in the middle of the room, and she hesitates as she steps on it, her eyes widening slightly.

“Take off your dress, baby,” he tells her, cocking his head to the side. While she stares at him, his insides tense. The first real test. Will she obey without fussing? It's important to him to know that she will do what he tells her, especially in front of strangers. His hands slip along her arms, palms pressing into her skin, a demanding grip, as he stares down at her, eyes narrowed, and she takes a shuddering breath and nods, slowly reaching for the hem of the dress. He relaxes and lets go of her. “Good girl.”

He watches her as she slowly pulls the dress over her head, hands shaking, body stiff, breathing heavily, but she's focusing on him, trying to ignore the woman waiting behind them. He takes the dress from her and hands it back to the seamstress without looking at her, his eyes focused only on the naked torso in front of him. She's trying to cover herself, her arms squishing her small breasts together as her hands rest in front of her soiled panties, her thighs clamped together tightly, and there's panic in her eyes.

He's almost forgotten about his cum in her underwear, and a sigh escapes him. It doesn't matter to him, and certainly not to the woman waiting to do her job, but he feels the girl's discomfort, wants to tell her that he dragged girls in here in far worse conditions, but ultimately he just steps closer and grabs her hands, holds her wrists, looks at her intently. “It's okay, keep them on,” he says quietly. “No need to be ashamed.”

She swallows visibly and nods, biting her lip. He tilts his head, gaze fixed on her mouth, and she stops the nervous motion, moves her tongue between her lips before pressing them into a thin line. He lets go of her and nods in return, ignoring the curious gaze from the other woman as she steps around them, a flexible measuring tape in her hands. She must think he's lost it now, with how soft and gentle he treats the girl in front of him.

He's never been like this, so considerate, comforting, patient. He usually brought his toys here to be left with the tailor, not caring about their discomfort. They usually barely noticed where they were anyway, he'd make sure of it, so bringing her here, as pure as she is, so willing and eager, mind open enough to follow his commands without having been coerced (by drugs at least), it's a first for all parties involved.

Stepping away, he holds her gaze until he leans against the wall, crossing his arms in front of his chest, watching her as she comes to terms with her surroundings, or the woman starting to take her measurements. She's thorough and rough, grabs the girl's arms and lifts them as if she were indeed just a doll – that is until she flinches away and winces when the woman forces her legs apart, and he sees the restraint in the seamstress' motions, she's about to slap the poor girl for disobedience, but instead she turns to him.

“Tell her to stay still.”

He shoots the woman a dark glance, and she bows her head, but holds his gaze, determined to continue her job, no matter whose money is paying her to do so.

With a sigh, he looks at the girl behind her who freezes when she meets his eyes. He doesn't have to say anything, she issues a tiny nod and lowers her head, standing stock-still on the podium, letting the woman grab her limbs to measure them. Her face, however, is bright red, and she even clenches her hands into fists, fighting the urge to flinch time and time again, especially when the tailor slips the measuring tape around her thighs, dangerously close to where he can see the little wet stain in her panties.

He watches her, thinking back to the list he made. He isn't just ordering underwear for her, also dresses, cute and more elegant ones, but most importantly things the store doesn't sell in their front window display. Closing his eyes for a moment, he can already imagine her in the lacy sets, her small body covered in the intricate straps of the garter belts holding those soft stockings that will hug her legs, and that he can't wait to peel off her.

And then there are the harnesses, the cuffs, the belts, all kinds of restraints he wants to put on her to rid her of her last ounce of self-control. He wants her to lose it all, lose herself for him, give herself up to him and him alone. She'll love it, he's sure, eventually.

A sudden slapping sound breaks him from his daydreams of tying her to the bed, and his eyes fly open. The girl lets out a whimper, slouching her shoulders, while the woman stands in front of her with the measuring tape wrapped around her small bust, the rigid tape pressing hard into her nipples. There's a barely there red spot on the girl's cheek. He pushes off the wall and walks closer.

“Everything okay?” he asks, his voice low and with a dangerous edge to it. The seamstress stiffens.

“She kept moving about,” she explains, quickly finishing the measurement of the girl's chest to step away from him. “How am I supposed to get her exact measurements if she fights this so much?”

“She's not yours to slap,” he says darkly, his eyes moving along the naked body in front of him. The girl's chest rises and falls quicker, her head bowed, but her hands relax slightly.

“Yes, sir,” the woman replies quietly as she returns to wrap the tape around the girl's slim waist from behind her, her motions much more careful now. “I apologize...”

He hums in response, extending a hand to touch the blemished cheek. She meets his gaze, eyes big and full of concern, but they soften when he caresses her softly. “Keep still,” he reminds her quietly, and she nods into his hand. Pressing his thumb to her lips, she parts them, but he only smirks at her and gives her a wink as he pulls his hand away again, his cock stirring at the sight of her little pout.

Returning to lean against the wall, he keeps watching the scene, slowly slipping back into his fantasies, smiling to himself as he thinks about the girl clad in white lace, or black, or that soft pink that will fit her as well, and how he will then remove that fancy lingerie he's paying way too much for. He could strip her gently, let her wear a certain set again, or he could rip it off, cut it off, tear it away until she's bare in front of him. That'll depend on his mood.

TEN 🟥 ELEVEN 🟥 TWELVE

End notes: Welcome back to SEASON TWO of INFATUATED!

I wrote the following ten chapters down in about a week (like I did the first ten, actually), it'll get quite intense, but there will be more backstory as well, as hinted in this chapter already. Things will thicken, the plot included. I hope you are ready!

Thank you for coming back to read this depraved piece of fiction.

Next chapter on Sunday!

TAG LIST:

@untamedheart81 @qmsvpx @cyan1decandy @bimbos-are-angels @voiceactivated @reader-1290

AO3 / / / MASTERLIST

CHAPTER / / / ONE◾TWO◾THREE◾FOUR◾FIVE◾ SIX◾SEVEN◾EIGHT◾NINE◾TEN

[lucyswinter]

request!!! the nightmare trope with cilly. reader wakes up scared in the middle of the night and he comforts her 💖

pairing: cillian murphy x fem!reader

genre: fluff

warnings: none! <3

(a/n): thank you so much for the request ml!!!! alsooo new divider!! creds to @/saradika-graphics 💗💗 this was not proofread, but ava got a sneak peak and liked it so lmk if there’s any grammatical errors lol

You let out a sharp breath as you jolt up into a sitting position, dry sobs echoing the walls of your bedroom as you cross your arms and grip the opposite forearm for support. You don’t even notice that you’ve woken Cillian until he made himself known.

“Lovey? What is it?” he asked you worriedly, eyes wide, slowly sitting up and leaning on his arm so that he could see you properly.

“I-I…” you manage to pant out, eyes watering.

“Love, you need to use your words. What’s wrong?” He puts a hand to your cheek and softly strokes your face with his thumb in a comforting rhythm. He always knew exactly what to do to calm you down, even when you didn’t.

“I had um.” You pause to take a nervous gulp, eyes now overflowing enough for a few tears to race down your cheeks, some pooling up around Cillian’s thumb. “I had a nightmare…” a sob punctuates your sentence, prompting Cillian to furrow his brow with worry.

“Ohhh my poor sweet girl” he laughs, his hand moving down to rub your shoulder and pull your head against his chest. “I’m so sorry”

You try to lift your head from his chest. “Cill i’m going to get your shirt all wet with tears” you sniffle, another sob of guilt coming on.

“Shh it’s alright love. I can change later. This is about you right now. I’ll be fine.” He pulls you back on his chest and continues rubbing your shoulders. “Now, would you like to talk about what happened, or no? I won’t pressure you, but I’m here if you need me baby.”

You let out a few more soft sobs before wiping your cheeks and lifting your head to look at him. A sense of relief washes over you as soon as you meet his bright blue gaze.

“I just…I was being chased by this monster and he chased me into this house, and when I got into one of the rooms I-“ you’re cut off by a slightly more violent sob, the tears returning your cheeks, your eyes squeezed shut in an attempt to make them stop.

“Shhh take your time, sweet girl. Poor baby.” His lips connect with yours, and linger for a few seconds before he pulls back to give you his attention.

You take a deep breath out and continue to explain to him what happened. “And when I got into this room you were there but…but you were dead” you wail, the tears streaming down your cheeks like a waterfall.

“Oh my sweet caring girl. I’m so sorry you had to think about that. Ohhh poor girl.” He wiped tears from your now puffy eyes to reveal red cheeks. “But I’m here. And I’m not dead, lovey. You don’t need to worry about that.” He places a kiss on your cheek, and begins to rub your shoulders again. “I must say, angel, that sounds an awful lot like the movie we watched tonight…I don’t mean to jump to conclusions, but is there a possibility you got a bit frightened by the movie and that’s why you had this nightmare?”

You nod, ashamed to admit that a silly movie scared you.

He let out a soft chuckle, more pitiful than condescending. “Well why don’t we go back to sleep, baby.”

You lie down on your side and snuggle up closer to him so that his chin is above your head. He puts his arms around you and gentle rubs his thumb against your back, causing a tingly sensation to spread through your body in waves, lulling you closer to sleep. Your eyes flutter, and eventually close. You let out a soft sigh, and he leans his lips close to your ear, tickling the sensetive skin with his warm breath.

“No more scary movies for you, sweet angel. I hate seein’ you all scared.” He whispered. “Sleep now, love. Dream sweet things”. He planted a soft kiss on your forehead as you slowly drifted into a peaceful slumber.

(a/n): ty for reading!! next up is a neil lewis oneshot and a hotch oneshot!! <33

[adiluv-moved]

❥ COMPOSER / BLOODY QUEEN + COOKING HCS. ˚⊹꒷

🕊️୧・꒰word count꒱ total—1605, frederick—816, mary—789.

🌸୧・꒰warnings꒱ possibly ooc ꒰mary꒱, not heavily edited.

🐇୧・꒰adi moment꒱ request here! i ended up adding mary to this request, since i thought it would be interesting to have a character that could cook with one that can't. ꒰i also just love mary ♡꒱ hope you enjoy! ꒰˶ᵔ ᗜ ᵔ˶꒱˖⁺‧₊˚

જ⁀➴ frederick kreibrug, the composer. ˚⊹꒷

꒰🎹꒱・Frederick can only be described as a natural perfectionist, and this trait isn’t something that so easily disappears whenever he enters the kitchen. After all, he’s lived his entire life with expectations being piled onto him by both his fans and his family—and while he may no longer have any affiliation with them, such high external pressures do eventually tend to seep in. Regardless of what the subject matter may be, if he doesn’t do something to the very height of his abilities, then what’s the point of doing it at all?

꒰🎹꒱・As such, he’s the type of chef to use a recipe and follow it to. The. Tea. His amazing memory tends to become extra useful in remembering the steps, his muscle memory even allowing him to get near perfect measurements every single time. Similarly to memorizing your favorite music pieces, I do also think he’d be quick to memorize any dishes you mention your enjoyment of. He also does his best to avoid using any unnecessary cookware, as he’s never been a big fan of having to wash everything afterwards. At least within the manor he’s not always the one that has to clean the dishes after meals, though the survivors that do can appreciate his efficiency.

꒰🎹꒱・He’s most experienced with savory dishes, mostly due to his attempts to recreate the food he’d eat before being disowned by his family. They’d been quite insistent on the importance of eating well, believing that one couldn’t perform their best if they did so on an empty stomach—a sentiment that Frederick continues to carry despite their estrangement. He will pile extra food onto your plate if you have a match coming up, especially so if he knows that the hunter is one that you tend to struggle kiting against. There have been times where other survivors have attempted to tease the both of you for this… though the silent look that he gives them tends to ruin the mood.

꒰🎹꒱・Even if he doesn’t have the time or energy to make something for you, he’ll still be sure to ask whether or not you’ve eaten properly before you head over to the waiting room. He’s quite menacing with it, too, even though you know he means well—and he’ll absolutely nag you if you respond in the negative. Did you lose the match? Oh, how unfortunate… Perhaps you got too distracted by the sound of your stomach rumbling at some point? Next time, you should make sure to eat properly before running around. Did you win the match? Well, congratulations! But you didn’t eat too well beforehand, no? You must be starving. Go sit down, he’ll quickly prepare something.

꒰🎹꒱・Depending on your personal threshold for spices and seasoning, you may or may not find Frederick’s food to be in need of a little extra flavor. He’ll be slightly surprised if you end up bringing this critique to him, not really seeing much of an issue with it himself. He’d probably assume that he messed up on the recipe somewhere along the way, so it’ll take a bit for you to convince him that while he does follow things with extreme precision… there are also times when breaking away from the recipe can help. Although it takes him a bit to fully accept that conclusion, he’ll still allow you to add additional seasonings to his food—and deeply appreciate it once he realizes how much better it is.

꒰🎹꒱・Regardless of how much more he enjoys your additions, I don’t see Frederick as having a particularly high spice tolerance—though his poker face works wonders in hiding that. In most cases, so long as it’s not extremely spicy, he can manage to maintain his composure until the meal is over and he can chug as much water as his heart desires. However, when that method fails him he’ll become red in the face ꒰which he still tries to keep straight꒱ and awkwardly fidget within his seat. Offering to go and get him some water will result in him looking at you like you’re an angel.

꒰🎹꒱・He’s a big fan of cooking with you, despite the extra mess and time that it’ll take. Granted, it does take him some time to get him to loosen up entirely—perfectionist tendencies shining through when you first start—but the activity does come to grow on him by the time your food is ready. I don’t see him as the type to be too goofy with it, though he’ll humor you most of the time. He’ll often ask if you’d like to make something with him when his brain gets too fried from compositions, and there have been many times where you’ve had to guard your creations from the other survivors. It’s fun, to him, and you might even find him drifting away from the recipes of his childhood over time. No need to remember them, in his eyes.

જ⁀➴ mary antoinette, the bloody queen. ˚⊹꒷

꒰🪞꒱・Mary, on the other hand, has absolutely no idea how to cook—though this isn’t exactly something that you could blame her for. Having been regarded as a member of the nobility for the entirety of her life, eventually even rising up to the title of queen—she’s never had much of a reason to bother herself with learning. Especially so considering that she had personal chefs to do the job both more efficiently and skillfully than she could ever dream of. 

꒰🪞꒱・This inability of hers to fend for herself in the kitchen isn’t something that changes when she enters the manor, either, considering that she’s one of the undead residents. Make no mistake here, she could eat if she desired to—in fact, she actively enjoys swooping in and stealing the food of living hunters—but she faces zero consequences if she decides not to. With that in mind, stepping foot into the kitchen isn’t exactly something that she does often. If I’ll be honest, most of the hunters would be totally fine with keeping her out of the room as a whole, too.

꒰🪞꒱・Not only is Mary very vocal about her displeasure of being forced into something so ‘unbefitting’ for her status, but all the more concerningly—has nearly burnt down the kitchen during each and every one of her attempts to make something. It’s gotten to the point where even Joseph—who’s not the greatest cook himself—jokes that asking Mary to cook something is the same as setting off a ticking time-bomb within the kitchen… though the downright nasty glares that she sends over in his direction are quick to shut him up. You can’t help but find it a little funny, but I wouldn’t recommend saying that to her face. 

꒰🪞꒱・While I do think she’d initially be less than welcoming to the idea of finally learning how to cook, she’d probably also give in if you ask her enough. She’ll insist that the only reason behind her agreement was due to how ‘annoying’ your repetitive begging and whining was, but she simply just hates to see the sad look on your face whenever she denies your requests—a truth that the both of you are well aware of. Do be warned, however, the task of showing her how to cook is far from easy, and you’ll have to stay by her side throughout the entire process. She’s clueless, but at the same time refuses to ask for help when she needs it. She’d probably be the type of person who believes that turning the oven to the highest temperature will cook the food faster—and you’re honestly lucky that the manor possesses no microwaves, because she’d absolutely put metal inside of one.

꒰🪞꒱・Another product of her upbringing, Mary has exceedingly high standards when it comes to food, with you being only partially spared from her high expectations. She will, however, gush over anything that she manages to make, believing it to be incredible despite any criticism she receives. Once again, her status as one of the undead hunters does protect her from issues such as food poisoning, leading her to eat all of her creations with a straight face… all while you’re physically convulsing from how terrible the taste is. She initially becomes offended by your reaction, but calms down slightly once you remind her that your stomach is far more sensitive than hers.

꒰🪞꒱・Despite how prideful she is, she’d feel utterly horrible if you became sick from eating one of her meals, and the entire thing would lead her to wanting to give up on cooking as a whole. I already see her as the type of person that becomes frustrated whenever she’s not immediately good at something, and seeing her significant other getting sick because of her certainly doesn’t do much to help. Although, assuming that you do convince her to continue cooking once you recover, I do think that the entire experience would get her to open up to suggestions. She’d hate to see you suffering within the infirmary for something avoidable, after all.

꒰🪞꒱・Considering her sweet tooth, I think that Mary would likely be more invested in baking than in cooking, even if it’s the harder of the two. ꒰Though she certainly isn’t helped by the fact that her favored pastries are more on the luxurious side.꒱ While it would require quite a bit of time—which you have an abundance of within the manor, anyway—she’d probably really only learn how to make some more basic dishes. Of course, it’s still amazing progress considering her starting point, so I don’t think she’d mind all that much. Be sure to deliver a few compliments of your own, too. She enjoys seeing you smile, especially when she’s the reason behind it.

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[sarahjtv]

My Hero Academia is Officially Ending and I'm Fucking Coping 😭

So, it was officially announced early today, June 24th, 2024, by Shueshia and mangaka, Kohei Horikoshi, that My Hero Academia/Boku no Hero Academia will officially end in 5 chapters on Chapter 430. The last chapter will be released at the beginning of August after 10 years of publication in Weekly Shonen Jump magazine if all goes well.

I woke up to this news. I'm sitting here on my laptop typing this as a way of coping tbh. On the outside, I'm numb and stunned. On the inside, I'M SCREAMING, CRYING, THROWING UP, MOURNING LIKE I LOST A LOVED ONE WTF 😭

*sigh* But, this was going to happen eventually. It was only a matter of when. When Horikoshi said that we would have more epilogue to cover, I thought "Maybe he'll give us 10 more chapters!" Turns out it is 6-7 chapters instead... In Horikoshi's defense, 6-7 chapters are much longer than what most mangaka have given us for epilogues to their stories. I'd rather have him give us 5 more chapters of an epilogue than rush it in 1-2. Plus, if possible, we could potentially get 19-20 pages per chapter which might be just enough to wrap everything up. And since final chapters of manga tend to be longer than usual, we could get extra pages in the last chapter to finish everyone's arcs and the story properly.

Still, it's so wild to see a series I have loved for years and have such a strong attachment to end as I am following it. I have been a part of many fandoms before and have stuck around them for years (Pokémon, Supernatural, Doctor Who, Breaking Bad, and many more), but it's not often that I've been there there to see a series come to it's conclusion. Sometimes that can turn out well (Breaking Bad) and other times I've seen it end badly (Supernatural; only read about it and it was not great. I bounced after season 13? and I am so sorry to the fandom). My Hero Academia is one of the very few series I will see through to the end.

I'm really coping here, honestly. I've been a fan of My Hero Academia since 2018. I first heard about the series randomly through the internet, but I didn't fully introduce myself to it until I listened to a cover of The Day on YouTube (I forget the artist, I'm so sorry). I thought the song was so cool and that led to me listening to more covers of MHA OPs (Peace Sign is still GOATed btw). This eventually led me to the manga and the anime where I became truly immersed in the series. I started reading the manga around the Joint Training Arc (I think) which was definitely an interesting time to read the manga because the chapters where so short due to Horikoshi dealing with health and I think moving conflicts at the time. It was still an enjoyable arc and enough to keep me interested in reading from the beginning. I want to say I started the anime around season 3?, but I started at the beginning and worked my way up from there. "Shoto Todoroki: Origin" was the episode that finally solidified my love for the series and is still my favorite episode of the series.

To say that MHA has an important place in my heart is an understatement. (⚠️Warning: very quick mention of suicide) I was very sad and depressed in the latter half of 2018. My life didn't feel like it was going anywhere and I was close to giving up entirely. (⚠️ ). Finding and loving MHA during that time honestly might have saved my life. As strange as it sounds, it was one of the few things that brought me genuine happiness at the time. I had something to look forward to every week and it was thrilling. I still remember debating whether Deku or Shoto was my favorite character. Shoto took the top spot in my heart, but Deku is a very close second 🩵💚.

Seeing MHA end is heartbreaking, honestly. I'm watching something I truly love come to an end. We'll still have the anime, movies, and spin-off series to keep us busy for the next few years, but the manga that started it all is coming to a close. It feels so, so surreal. God, is this how the Haikyuu fandom felt when it’s manga ended? My hope is that this fandom can be kept alive long after the series is over. The MHA fandom DEFINITELY has it's flaws, but it also has a lot of good in it too. I have seen incredible art and fanfics come from this fandom. I have laughed and hyped up some of the best moments of MHA with people who love it too. I know that the fandom is collectively mourning its end and I know we'll all cry bittersweet tears when it ends. If anything, I am glad to see Kohei Horikoshi end his momentous story on his own terms. I hope it ends up being one of the best manga endings in recent Shonen Jump like how Haikyuu's was. I think Horikoshi can do it. Regardless of how it ends, My Hero Academia will be one of my favorite pieces of fiction. I am really glad to be here to celebrate it.

[letmeapologise]

it’s me again :) yk i’ll ask for erling imagines and Erling imagines only. i’m thinking reader takes care of him or the other way around and it’s pure fluff 🥹🥹🥹

❝ 𝐬𝐧𝐨𝐨𝐳𝐞 ❞

.ೃ 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬 ! 𝐡𝐞 𝐤𝐞𝐞𝐩𝐬 𝐫𝐞𝐟𝐮𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐦𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧. 𝐜𝐥𝐚𝐢𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐬𝐡𝐞'𝐬 𝐞𝐧𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐡𝐢𝐦 𝐛𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫. 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐡 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 ✰ ´ˎ˗

⋆ ｡ ˚ ⋆ 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 ⌇ 𝐟𝐞𝐦 𝐝𝐞𝐩𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 ੈ✩‧₊˚

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆ 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 ⌇ 𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐡𝐚𝐚𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 ✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡♡˚

ೄྀ࿐ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 ⌇ 𝟏.𝟎𝐤 !

↳ 𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 ೃ⁀➷ 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐤 𝐮 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭 ! 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐛𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐰 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐬𝐚𝐢𝐝 "𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐚 𝐟𝐥𝐮𝐟𝐟 𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐞 𝐨𝐫 𝐛𝐥𝐮𝐫𝐛 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐲𝐧 𝐚𝐬𝐤𝐬 𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐩𝐢𝐜𝐤 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐮𝐩 𝐢𝐧 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐦𝐬 𝐜𝐚𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐬𝐡𝐞’𝐬 𝐬𝐥𝐞𝐞𝐩𝐲 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐨𝐧 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝𝐞𝐫/𝐧𝐞𝐜𝐤" 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐝 𝐢𝐭 𝐚 𝐛𝐢𝐭 𝐬𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐤 𝐮 𝐛𝐨𝐭𝐡. 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞, 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭, 𝐧 𝐫𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠 𝐜𝐚𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐢𝐭 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐩𝐬 !

“YOU’RE SUCH A BABY!” you scoffed at him, watching as he leaned back onto the sofa with his leg propped up on the foot stool next to you, reaching his arms out and huffing at your laughter. “Come here!” he whined, trying to reach towards you without moving his leg, you just moved back slightly and grinned at his futile efforts to pull you towards him. “I need to go and get your medication,” you nodded, gesturing towards the kitchen, Erling shook his head, pouting. “I’ll be fine if you just come here.” You rolled your eyes at his antics, going to sit next to him and immediately being pulled into the crook of his neck.

You giggled, pushing yourself off and sat up properly, his arm now slinked around to your shoulders. “What d’you wanna watch?” you asked, now sat upright, eyes searching around the room for the remote control, he had been zoning in and out of the sports channel on the screen until you arrived and started helping with his injured hamstring. Your boyfriend pointed at the remote, on the other sofa, covered with a pillow and a discarded blanket he had left there prior due to how hot the weather was getting. 

He went to get up, you lightly shoved him back down, patted his leg and strolled over to it, pointing it at the screen and changing the channel. “Ted Lasso?” you laughed, walking back to your seat next to Erling who was already shuffling up to you to feel your touch, murmuring into your skin. “You should’ve done a cameo for them,” he shrugged, lacing his arms back around your body and resting his head on top of yours, kissing your hair occasionally as you watched the show.

The episode ended, and you eventually forced yourself up from your boyfriend’s grip, careful not to walk into the footstool resting his leg as you made your way to the kitchen; hearing Erling complaining for you to hurry up with a chuckle. You found the bag given to Erling by the medical staff upon receiving treatment for his hamstring injury, he wasn’t having any of it, you however were the one forcing him to sit still to not stress the muscle out anymore. He was just lucky he got injured on the last game of the season, and not in the middle where he would have had to miss games, you probably would have had to tie him down on the sofa if that was the case.

The bag mostly consisted of his injury chart, where he got the injury and how they came to that conclusion based on scans and symptoms, and then a list of medication or prescribed help he should receive. You picked the small translucent box up from the bottom of the bag, full of pills, and poured two out into the palm of your hand. Then you felt an arm snake around your waist, and you swivelled your way round with your hand now scrunched up in a fist to hold the pills.

“Takin’ too long,” he mumbled, you swivelled round on the tips of your feet, planting a kiss on his nose. “Thought I told you to rest your leg,” you looked up at him, palm flat out squeezing through his grip to show your boyfriend the pills. He groaned, walking back towards the living room, tracing over your steps and practically pushing you back to the room with him.

He laid back down, huffing as he raised his leg back up onto the footstool. “Stop movin’ about ‘n’ let me take care of you, Erl.” He grumbled under his breath, holding his palm out for the pills. “Let me go get you some water for it,” he nodded gratefully, staring at the pills in his hand and listening to the sound of you walking around the house as if you were playing as a nurse for him. He grinned to himself.

You returned, placing the glass in his other hand. “Take these now ‘n’ you can have two more in five hours.” He thinned his lips, you just gave him a look. Then downed the pills, rinsing his throat with the water you had handed to him, then placed it on the table next to him. “Don’t knock that over,” you advised. “You’ll probably end up spilling it when you try getting up ‘n’ then that’s more work for me to do.” 

He rolled his eyes, huffing. “I won’t spill it, I’m ill not stupid.” You laughed, slapping his shoulder and clicking the button to stop pausing the screen, continuing to watch Ted Lasso. “Nah, you’re stupid usually, that’s why.” He chuckled lightly to himself, watching the screen with you. “You’re actually addicted to this show,” he laughed, half-whispering, careful not to interrupt the show.

You didn’t answer, he frowned and tilted his head at you, assuming you just didn’t hear him. He was right, you didn’t. You were fast asleep with your head resting on his shoulder. Erling grinned, pressing a kiss to your forehead and checked the time — to be fair to you, you had basically been taking care of your boyfriend during all your free time that day — then propped you up into his arms, careful to not drop you; stress out his leg, or knock the glass of water over as you sternly recommended.

He was sure you would have some more words for him upon realising what he did, about why he was lifting you up the stairs and into bed with an injured hamstring, why wasn’t he resting?

He didn’t care, he could only rest if you were, and so that’s what he did. Tomorrow’s problem was tomorrow’s concern, right now he was just focused on getting the rest you both deserved. He fluffed up your pillow for you, rested you delicately in your shared bed and placed a fan right in front of you so you wouldn’t wake up in the night with hot sweats.

He smiled to himself, drifting off to sleep while watching you.

୨୧ @𝐥𝐞𝐭𝐦𝐞𝐚𝐩𝐨𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐢𝐬𝐞. 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐝. 𝐝𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐞, 𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭, 𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞 ୨୧

[finalgwen]

I'm going to go on a little ramble about representation in Doctor Who because tonight they managed to make me feel a way I haven't felt since 18 June 2005.

So let's start there, with the last time we got to see the Doctor and a male character have a romantic kiss. On family tv in 2005, with kids across the country watching. Two years before that, it was literally illegal to mention LGBTQ+ people in a positive sense in UK schools. Section 28's shadow lingered for a long time, I don't think there was any palpable change to the curriculum in those two years. But RTD gave us Captain Jack and that kiss, and he did so explicitly for the purpose of representation, saying 'It’s time you introduce bisexuals properly into mainstream television'.

Then after that kiss, Jack dies. Tale as old as time for queer characters. But then... He doesn't. He comes back to life, and refuses to die from that point on. A writer that saw too many brilliant gay and bi men disappear from his life (as It's A Sin brings into stark contrast) gave us a queer hero whose power was that he couldn't die, and I still marvel at the power of that.

(... And then sadly the elephant in the room, John Barrowman refused to learn about what's appropriate on set and kept doubling down on why his behaviour was actually just fine and dandy, and so we'll likely never see the character again, which sucks given how much he meant to bi kids growing up in that era.)

So anyway, Doctor Who moves on as it always does. We get Torchwood and a gloriously bi team there, but safely away in the adult television space. RTD era Who keeps on mentioning queer characters but we never get anyone quite as in your face or central to the plot as Jack. River Song briefly mentions flirting with everyone in the same 51st century way, but then stays mostly focused on the Doctor on screen.

Then Moffat era Who comes about and Season 5 doesn't feature a single queer character except River's reappearance. Even Moffat realised how much he'd fucked up here and course corrected. So things get slightly better with Vastra and Jenny (two prominent lesbian characters, only one of whom gets non-consensually kissed by the very male Doctor, yay) and eventually Clara, a canonically bi companion. It's only mentioned in little side snippets about kissing Jane Austen in unseen stories, but it's there? You can't deny she's bi, even if it never really informs her story. And then Bill, who's actually genuinely handled pretty well as a lesbian character, I think Moffat tried and things like getting a gay date interrupted by the pope are genuinely funny gags. Wish we got more of an actual dynamic between her and Heather though.

Then we get the Chibnall era and we do get queer characters here and there, The Witchfinders casting of Alan Cumming as James I is very good, and Praxeus has a quite sweet central gay relationship. But then there's Yaz.

See, Yaz is in love with the Doctor, apparently anyway, it's never mentioned before Revolution Of The Daleks when they became aware of the fan headcanon, and after using Jack to point to the similiarities between them in his last appearance, they kinda kept it on the backburner after that, so it's all very hastily resolved in one conversation in Legend Of The Sea Devils and they never kiss or get to display much affection.

So really we've had two eras where the main character representation has been piecemeal, there's certainly stuff there for queer fans to cling onto, in the same way that we've torn apart the classic era for hints of gayness. But Nyssa and Tegan weren't really for us, and neither is most of this. Even at its best it feels like straight writers realising it's a thing they should include but without any real passion for it.

And along comes Rogue and we get a full fledged romance, a dashing hero stepping into the Doctor's world and them instantly clicking and flirting, the chemistry palpable, all leading to a heartbreaking conclusion where they actually get to kiss before the end, and the chance of more to come in the future. No little one liner where Rogue says 'I like guys btw but anyway moving onto the important stuff'. No nods and winks and jokes about long tongues. Actual text, more development in an episode than Yaz and the Doctor managed across an entire run.

The writers of this episode are Kate Herron and Briony Redman who used to work on Loki, the one with the one side conversation about bisexuality that's a nice nod but never really builds to anything, that RTD famously called a 'craven, feeble gesture'. So they came in without the shackles of the MCU and did it right, and I love them for it. They tried to give us what representation they could, and with a producer that wants the same, we got something authentic.

Authenticity matters when it comes to representation, it can't just be to tick a box, and it really feels like this was for us. Something that might lead to the same brain explosion in a queer kid watching Doctor Who that Parting Of The Ways did in 2005 for me.

[ideas-left-unwritten]

So this would have been one of my (many) superpower fics, because I love superhero aus too much.

So, in this au, Phil and Kristin are both retired vigilantes (superheroes aren't exactly legal - or, at least, fighting crime with superpowers isn't legal) who settled down to have a family. Here, they only have two sons, Techno and Wilbur. Phil's power is making things wither just through his touch, and Kristin is a necromancer.

The twins don't show any signs of powers for a long time, so Phil and Kristin basically give up. That is, until one day, the twins are separated.

Kristin is driving Techno to the doctor's, for a checkup he really doesn't want to go to. And then, suddenly, he isn't in the car, he's on the side of the road. He teleported out. At the same time, back in the house, Phil nearly knocks something over, and Wilbur instinctively reaches out from across the room, and it stops mid air. Of course, the twins immediately want to be vigilantes, and eventually twist their parent's arms and get them to agree to train them. The only thing is, both Phil and Kristin come to the conclusion that the other wouldn't agree with what they're doing, and both decide to keep this from each other.

So, we have Techno, who has teleportation and can make portals, and Wilbur, who has telekinesis. They also have a little bonus power with Wilbur having really good spatial awareness and Techno with heightened reaction speeds. Kristin knows about Techno's powers, Phil knows about Wilbur's, and neither party knows about the other. Oh, and an important thing is that superpowers don't work properly on close family members, so Techno can't teleport out of Wilbur's grip, he'll teleport with Wilbur, and Wilbur can't use his telekinesis directly on Techno. Mumza also wouldn't be able to bring them back from the dead, which worries her a little bit.

Of course, the twins become vigilantes without knowing the other even has powers in the first place. Techno, taught by 'death isn't permanent' Kristin, is a bit more violent, and willing to kill people if necessary, where as Wilbur won't. But they keep running into each other, and Wilbur grows a bit annoyed that the guy who can literally teleport keeps beating him to crime scenes. They start a friendly rivalry, and even team up on a few things, despite disagreements on how to handle some situations. I also had an idea that Wilbur call himself 'Aeolus' and Techno would just be 'The Blade'. Not by choice - he actually had a cool name thought out (Iapetos) but turns out when you carry a large sword and don't literally tell people your name like Wilbur does, they just call you 'The Blade'. It infuriates him that he can't use his cool name, but Blade is kind of badass anyway.

One day, in the house, Techno and Wilbur are squabbling over something and nearly break something, but Wilbur stops it from falling. Techno pieces two and two together and runs to go and secretly portal to tell Mumza. Now, the whole family knows about Wilbur's powers.

From there, the dynamic changes a little bit. Blade doesn't ask Aeolus for help as much, and starts overextending, being overprotective and making sure Aeolus doesn't get hurt, despite him being able to handle himself in a fight. And this frustrates Wilbur to no end. He confronts the Blade about it, and challenges him to a fight to prove that he 's not useless. Techno doesn't even use his powers, and still wins the fight. He uses this as justification for his actions.

More frustrated than ever, Wilbur decides to fight with Techno the civilian, taking him out into the forest for a sparring match. Now, Techno knows that if he fights back, in his normal style at least, Wilbur will know it's him. So he handicaps himself the entire fight, and consequently gets thrown around quite a bit. It's not that Wilbur is trying to hurt him, but has a lot of pent-up anger that he takes out on Techno by proxy of him not being able to do it to the Blade. And now, Techno is really scrambling, and unfortunately, Wilbur is just not letting up. At one point, he grabs a large boulder and throws it at Techno, and it just doesn't stop - or at least it looks that way - and Techno, on instinct, teleports out of the way, thinking he'll be crushed otherwise. He lands a few metres away, staring wide-eyed at the rock hovering inches away from where he was before. Wilbur had no intention of hurting him.

Techno meets Wilbur's eyes for a moment, sees a flash of realisation and hurt, and then he reacts. The fight is now really on.

Techno keeps on the defensive, and Wilbur starts actually trying to hurt him (it doesn't work because Techno is really good at this whole superpower thing) but Techno is still able to easily subdue him. Wilbur breaks down, Techno apologises, and they sort of make up. It'll take a little more time to fully heal of course.

And then, from there, the two vigilantes become a team. Phil and Kristin have Talks with one another, and they settle into their new normal, with both twins using their powers pretty freely in the house. And life is good.

[covenofwives]

Interrogations

Dream knew DreamXD would come for him eventually after his stunt in the End. He didn't expect that XD would be so serious about demanding answers. Or expect for far XD would go to get them.

WOOOOOOO!!! Next part of the AU baby lets go! And perfect timing for this :D since people are making theories. Sadly this fic won't answer any but it has a lot of ticklings. And it takes place right after Dandelion Kisses.

Warnings for this fic: Intense tickling. Like it's called interrogations, it is very heavily a tickle torture fic. Dream is fine and safe but be careful when reading. Also warning for feet nibbles in this fic. It's not a lot or in great detail but feet nibbles do happen and I know that can make people uncomfortable. Again pls be careful when reading, don't push yourself to read something if it makes you uncomfortable.

Thank you and pls enjoy!

---

Dream was still pulling dandelions and grass out of his hair by the time he and George had finished lunch. He’d left them in, as some sort of whimsy reminder of the day, but a few too many started tickling at his ears and he was pulling them out now.

George had left to meet with Sapnap. He didn’t know when he’d be back, but he promised not to mention anything about Dream. It wasn’t the right time and while George didn’t agree, Dream knew he wouldn’t break his trust.

Now all that was left was to figure out what to do for the rest of the day. Dream taunted with the idea of going out. He could cover himself up and walk around the SMP, not interact with anyone even though his whole being burned to. He wanted to know what was happening, to catch up with everyone. He had to visit Techno sometime and see where the piglin stood exactly. He had to get to the next part in his plans with Punz.

Punz…huh.

Dream hadn’t thought of Punz since their last meeting. Everything had been crazy and it felt like he never got time to think and sort everything out. Now Dream thought of Punz and a million questions popped in his head.

Where was the blonde bounty hunter now? They had a meeting plan in the snow and then that was it. It was supposed to be planned out from there but then Punz had vanished. He handed Dream those weird Ender Pearls and then he’d left. Dream was too excited with the new plan to really think properly. He should have sought Punz out, or at least planned a better way to contact him.

Maybe that could be the next plan. And George could help. A small list formed in Dream’s head while he walked from the kitchen to the main room then a sudden familiar pop sound filled the air, and Dream stood looking at DreamXD.

The God looked better than the last Dream had seen him. The torn up bloodied imagine of his brother was replaced with this. His cloak was completely fixed and the blood was gone. Dream glanced down at XD’s arms, only seeing the top set hang over his cloak. He couldn’t see the damaged one, and worried if it was still torn, bloody and limp. But he forced himself to look up, get his thoughts away from it.

If XD was here, there’s only one conclusion Dream’s mind leapt to.

He’s going to put me back in the prison!

Adrenaline coursed through Dream’s veins for survival. His legs screamed at him to run and he nearly did when XD rose up his arm. He thought it was coming to grab at him, but XD held up his palm like he was trying to sooth a wild animal and he spoke.

“I’m not taking you back to the prison. I’m not here for that.” XD’s voice rumbled behind the mask. That mask was once comforting to look at and now it filled Dream with anxiety. When the mask was on it wasn’t his brother speaking to him. It was the God of the server.

XD lowered his hand slowly and spoke again. “You are not going back there. But I need to talk to you.”

Dream’s heart thumped uncomfortably in his chest. He had practiced what he’d say to XD over and over again in his head but now given the chance his memory failed him. He opened his mouth and was cut off.

“How did you get to the End?”

Any hope Dream let himself had fell. So it wasn’t to talk, it was to get answers. Not a conversation Dream wanted but it was something.

“W-We…” Dream cleared his throat when he realised how hoarse his voice sounded. “I found a stronghold where the portal frames weren’t destroyed.”

“How?” XD asked suddenly.

A bead of sweat rolled down Dream’s neck. He wished he had his mask on to hide. It seemed unfair XD got to hide while he was forced to face this head on. “I just...searched for it. Went to stronghold after stronghold until I found it.”

“You? Not you and George?”

“No!” Dream quickly shook his head. “No. It was me. All me.”

“You…” XD repeated the word slowly. “So you went out and searched for the stronghold yourself, found it and then went back and got George?”

Dream realised his fuck up before XD finished his sentence. That wouldn’t make any sense time wise considering Dream and George travelled for a month.

“No I… I knew the area where to search. I got George and brought him with me while we went to the stronghold.”

XD hummed and Dream realised he didn’t make a whole lot of sense. His mind cursed himself. How could he be so calm and cool speaking to everyone else, but as soon as he had to talk to his brother it felt like his mind was mush and his mouth was full of cotton.

XD was silent for a long while before he spoke again. “How did you open the portal?”

A thousand lies ran through Dream’s head but before he could say anything XD cut in. “Do not lie to me about this Dream.”

Dream wanted to act in offence, but it wasn’t like XD was wrong. “I… I used those ender pearls. The ones in the portal frames.”

XD nodded slowly. “And where did you get them?”

Dream controlled his breathing. “I… I found them.”

“No you didn’t.” XD voice was harsher. “Where did you get them?”

“I made them.” It was partly a panicked response, but XD’s head tilted and Dream couldn’t tell if it was in consideration or not.

“Really?” The voice was dripping in sarcasm. He did not believe it. “How do you make them?”

Dream pursed his lips. Caught.

“Right. So. How did you get them?”

“I… I just found them. I swear-”

“Did someone give them to you?”

Dream thought he controlled his face enough to not let it slip away, but without his mask he didn’t have that assurance. Seems like his expression wasn’t controlled enough as XD quickly asked. “Who gave them to you?”

There was no point lying again, but if Dream told then Punz was in trouble. Probably worse than trouble. Punz would  be dead. “N-No-one! I found them. I knew you needed something for the portals and they fit.”

“Did this person also tell you where the stronghold was?”

His face clearly made a tell again because XD nodded. “Okay. So they’re the same person. Who is it?”

“I… It - N-No-one. It was all me.”

XD sighed. A sigh that was holding back frustration. “Dream, this is serious.” His voice was almost growling. “Whoever gave you those Eyes is dangerous. You could have been killed, or someone else might have followed you through. Or Dragon could have gotten out to the Overworld. So you need to tell me right now who gave them to you.”

Dream’s neck felt wet with sweat and his heart raced. He couldn’t sell out Punz no matter what. If XD was that mad at his own brother he couldn’t imagine the rage he’d have for someone unrelated to him. “No-one did…”

Dream’s voice wasn’t very believable, but he already knew XD didn’t believe him. He just had to outlast the God and show that he wasn’t budging.

Of course it was easier thinking that than actually doing it. Despite them being brothers, XD was terrifying and while Dream was sure XD would never hurt him, the aura from the God was…unsettling.

XD moved suddenly and if Dream wasn’t so used to XD’s tells he would have been caught instantly. The God leapt from his position, arms out stretched to grab hold but Dream quickly ducked under them. He pushed himself off the floor and ran for the door but he didn’t even make it half way before he was caught.

XD’s upper arms caught around Dream’s waist. The blonde didn’t even have a chance to struggle before his wrists were captured and Dream was pulled up off the ground, his arms held up high above his head. He kicked out his legs, but even as his foot hit into XD’s shins, the God was unmoved.

Undetered by Dream’s actions, XD brought forward his lower set of arms. His hands poised on either side of Dream’s ribs before digging in. His claws scribbling through the tunic over the ticklish bones.

“Pffftt! W-Wait! Wahahahait!” Dream laughed instantly with no chance to steel himself from the tickling. Honestly this wasn’t what he was expecting at all.

The tickling hands crawled up to Dream’s armpits, drilling into the hollows before skittering their way down and kneading at Dream’s hips. The trapped mortal threw his head back in a boisterous laugh that caught him off guard. XD usually teased his tickly victims into a frenzy but there was none of that softness. XD went straight in for the kill. His fingers crawled around to Dream’s stomach and vibrated over the quivering belly, drawing the laugh up to near hysterics.

XD lessened his tickling only slightly to whisper into Dream’s ear. “This doesn’t stop until you tell me who gave them to you.”

Dream gasped between his helpless laughter. He’s going to tickle torture me to find out!

The realisation kicked Dream’s body into survival. He tried to wiggle, kick and worm his way out of XD’s hands but it was no use. XD didn’t budge and hands tickling didn’t falter in their attack. They moved down, switching between scribbling over Dream’s tummy and kneading over his hips. He never stayed in each spot for a set time, moving rapidly between them or sometimes he’d give one more attention than the other. It kept Dream’s nerves constantly on edge and crying out for mercy when he thought it should be over.

Tears prickled in the corner of Dream’s eyes when XD finally stopped. Their hands pulled back but the hands around Dream’s wrists still didn’t move while Dream took in gulp after gulp of air.

“Pl…Plehease… Stop…” Dream gasped.

“Who gave you the Eyes, Dream?” XD voice was cold as they asked.

“No-No-one! Please XD just listen to me-!”

Dream was moved. From being hoisted in the air he was then laying on the floor of the cottage. By the time he realised it he was still trapped. XD sat over his legs, facing away from Dream and down to his feet. Dream immediately knew what was coming. He tried to jump up and make a grab for the back of XD’s cloak but his hands were tied. Literally. He looked up above his head to see his wrists bound together with rope that grew from the floor. Like tan snakes they weaved around Dream’s wrists and tied into a tight knot.

He tried his hardest to pull on the ropes, but it was worthless. His attention was drawn back to XD as the God began to slowly pull off his brother’s socks.

“XD! Wait wait wait! WAHAIT! Plehease!”

His brother paid no attention, throwing off the socks without hesitation. Dream curled his toes and tired to cover one foot with the other, but XD simply grabbed his toes. His foot was stretched out and his sole attacked. XD’s terrible tickly claws scratched up and down his foot, not focusing on one spot but just making sure the whole area was tickled.

Dream threw his head back into a laugh, which became a scream when his other foot was grabbed in the same way. Stretched out and tickled beyond reason.

“PLEHEHEHEASE! PLEHEHEHEASE! MERCY! MERCIHIHIHIY!”

It was only a matter of time before those claws would hone in on his worst spot. His laugh came out in high pitched squeaks whenever those claws brushed along his arch. It was like they were sending warning shocks through his body, alighting his nerves while taunting him: this is what’s coming. This is what you’ll be dealing with.

“Tell me who gave you the Eyes. And this stops.” XD slowed his fingers, softly scratching over the balls of Dream’s feet and just under his toes. It still tickled madly, but his laughter was soft enough to hear XD’s words and speak.

“EHEHEX DEHEHEHE! Ple-ehehe-eHEAHAHASE! PLEASE! I-I cahahan’t breheheheathe!”

“You can speak just fine. Talk.” XD replied coldly, and his fingers went down, just ever so slightly, closer to Dream arch.

“NOHOHO! PLEHEHEHASE!” Dream screeched. He tried to arch his back as much as he could but couldn’t do much with XD on his legs. “I CAHAHAN’T! EheheHEHEehehex Deheheheheh! Plehehehease!”

“That’s not an answer.”

With that XD’s nails went down, directly over the arches of Dream’s sensitive feet and scribbled.

Dream’s laughs came out in mix of silent screams and sudden bouts of hysterics. He wiggled, turned and kicked out any part of his body he could move. He couldn’t speak or form words, or at least not consciously anyway. His mind was overtaken by the shocks of ticklish energy. Numbing his thoughts and overriding every sense in his body to just feel the tickling.

He barely even noticed when two more arms sprouted from XD’s back. They pushed aside XD’s cloak, flexed their fingers before suddenly launching down and tickling into Dream’s tummy.

Dream didn’t think he could physically be tickled anymore than he already was, but it seems his nerves still had a ways to go. He could feel his mind slipping to the depths of insanity, forever feeling this endless tickling. It seeped into every thought of his mind, electrifying all of his nerves with no sign of rest.

The tickling must have stopped for a while but Dream was still laughing. Eventually his laughter died down to giggles and he noticed XD had moved off his legs. Not that it helped him in any way. His whole body felt like jelly, unmoving except for the few twitches he made. He could feel the tear streaks down his cheeks only because XD wiped them away. He was by Dream’s side now, wiping away the fallen tears with the back of his hand. The extra arms he sprouted were gone, but his mask remained on and his voice still cold when he spoke.

“Tell me who gave you the Eyes Dream and it’s over.”

Dream whined. “Pl…please XD…. I… I can’t….”

“Did they threaten you, Dream? Did they say something would happen to you if you told me? Or threaten George?”

It was the first time XD’s voice had gone soft through their whole conversation and Dream hated how much he leaned into it. He hated how his heart fluttered and yearned for that voice again, to hear XD be his brother.

“N-No…” Dream hesitated to say, and felt a cold sting when all softness from XD’s voice was gone.

“Then tell me who.”

Dream shut his eyes and shook his head. It was becoming unbearable to see that cold mask looking down at him. He heard XD sigh and then he moved. Dream’s nerves tingled with unknowing until he felt his tunic being pulled up over his tummy.

“N-NO!” Dream yelped, eyes shot open and he tried to curl up again.

XD was having none of it, easily stretching Dream out again and sitting on his legs. Now facing his stomach.

“PLEASE! XD!”

“I’m not playing games with you Dream. When you’re ready to tell me, this stops.”

He came down upon Dream’s stomach, who tensed up expecting raspberries blown across his skin. But it was not XD’s lips that touched his skin, it was XD’s fangs. The End God immediately began nibbling along the soft sensitive flesh and Dream lost it.

He screamed louder than he ever had. If he had any sense left to think he’d be thankful George’s cottage was in the middle of a forest. It must have sounded like he was being murdered.

Dream vision was overtaken with flashing colours, blinding white lights and spouts of darkness. His nerves felt alight with fire and electricity at the same time.

It felt like hours the tickling lasted for, but it was truly only a few seconds. Dream took in air like he had been drowning. His cheeks were wet with tears again and his hair clung to his sweat slicked skin.

The starry mask of XD was pushed up, revealing his lips set in a straight emotionless expression. Dream tried to plead again, but it came out in whimpers and XD spoke over him. “You cannot handle my fangs on your stomach. And that’s not even your worst spot.”

Dream cocked his eyebrow up in question. Or he tried to but he honestly wasn’t sure if it moved. His whole body felt like it wasn’t in his control.

“How are you going to last with those fangs on your worst spot?”

It look longer for Dream to connect the dots, and even then it didn’t fully click until XD moved himself off Dream’s legs and grabbed one of his ankles.

Dream wanted to jump away and fight with his full strength, but he was weak and his voice hoarse from all the laughing. He barely got his other leg up to kick before XD’s hand snapped on and held it down. His shouts for XD to stop came out more in a whimper.

“Plehehease! Plehehease plehehease dohohon’t! E-Ehehex Dehehe!”

“You know how to make it stop.” Was all XD said before the foot was raised up, and he opened his mouth for his terrifying fangs to grow long and sharper. They grazed across Dream’s arches, nibbling so softly and Dream screamed for as much as his lungs would allow.

His laughter came out in a mix of silence and screams. When his lungs could laugh no more his face was still an expression of hysterical laughter but no sound came out. When he got the smallest puff of air it wailed out his throat in pleading laugh-filled words.

“GREHEHEHEHEHEN! GREHEHEHEHEHEHEN!!! FUHUHUHUCKING STOHOHOHOP!”

The tickling did stop, but foot was held up to XD’s fangs. The God hesitated, having a silent debate with themselves and even if the tickling had stopped, Dream still felt no safer when he could feel the God’s breath over his foot.

He’s not going to stop!

Dream felt his chest tightening when XD slowly lowered his foot, calming him for a moment.

“You get a break, then this continues.”

Words had never felt so cold and terrifying. “Nohoho! Plehehease! You-You cahan’t!”

“I can, and I will. Until you’ve told me who gave you the Eyes, this doesn’t stop.”

“I-I can’t…” Dream blinked away tears in his eyes, unsure if they were from his tickling, or frustration. “I can’t tell you.”

“You have to, Dream.”

“You’ll… You’ll hurt them if I do…”

It was easier to read XD’s emotions with their lips shown. They pulled back, lips slightly parted in a silent gasp as they paused over the words. “I… I wouldn’t.” XD spoke after a moment to collect his thoughts.

“You will! You…” Dream rapidly blinked the tears from his eyes and looked up to XD. It probably wasn’t as impressive or serious as he wanted it to look. “You nearly threw me back in the prison, and I’m your own brother! You’d kill a stranger if they did the same thing!”

XD’s mouth fell open as though in shock, and Dream could only imagine it was a look of pain on their face. “I-I…” XD started then silently mouthed something. They looked down for a moment before bringing their face back up. “I would have… I would have never put you back in that prison. I… I misspoke.”

“You misspoke?! You said you’d have thrown me in the prison if you had the chance!”

“I wouldn’t have! I was…I was angry! I was terrified! Terrified I’d lost you. That I’d lose you!”

Despite how much his heart wanted to hold onto the pain and spitefulness, he could hear truth in his brother’s words. They had spent years together, learning one another's tells and XD wasn’t lying.

“That’s why I need you to tell me who gave them to you. If they know how to make them, or have some way to get them, they’re dangerous Dream. They nearly killed you.”

Dream’s head fell back in defeat. Of course, of course it wasn’t for Dream’s concern. It was to keep those stupid Eyes safe and out of everyone else’s hands. It was all to protect the End. Dream’s care was a second thought.

“I won’t hurt them, Dream. If it was one of your friends who gave them to you. I just want to speak with them.”

Part of Dream didn’t want to believe it, but he knew XD too well. The God wasn’t lying but doubt still prickled along Dream’s skin. It was hard to trust what he knew right now. His mind was still foggy from the tickles, and it was hard to think of XD showing mercy to anyone when it came to the End.

“You…you won’t hurt them?”

XD shook his head. “No.”

“Promise?”

“I promise you. I just want to talk to them.”

It was hard to believe, but the tickling of XD’s fangs along his feet were still coursing through him, lightly strumming his nerves with the memory. And he had a feeling XD wouldn’t show him mercy for his safeword again.

“P… Punz… It was Punz.”

XD’s reaction was a lot…less reactionary than Dream thought. The God seemed paused, like he hadn’t heard Dream and then he tilted his head. “Punz?”

“Y-Yes…?”

XD’s head tilted again, this time the other way. “Punz? Mercenary Punz? White hoodie wearing Punz?”

“Yes! How many Punz are there? That Punz, yes!”

XD leaned back ever so slightly, tilting his head up to the ceiling. He was still for a moment before looking back down to Dream. “You’re sure it was Punz who gave them to you?”

“Yes!” Dream huffed, frustrated.

“He didn’t give them to you from someone else? Did he make them?”

“He…well…” Dream pushed through the fog in his mind to think and remember. Punz had given him the Eyes but he hadn’t elaborated on how. When Dream went to ask, Punz had vanished. “I don’t know…” He admitted. “He gave them to me but I don’t know how he got them.”

XD paused again to think but after a moment his shoulders relaxed and his words came out softer, carried on a sigh. “Alright…”

Worry, dread and guilt pooled in Dream’s stomach. He’s sold out his friend over threats of tickling. “You won’t hurt him, right? You’re just talking.”

“I won’t hurt him, I promised.”

The ropes uncoiled from Dream’s wrists and disappeared. Dream hissed from the burn. His wrists were red and the skin was sensitive. He pulled his arms down, wincing slightly at the pain in his shoulder. XD must have let go of his ankles because he found his body curled up and then he was suddenly lifted into XD’s arms.

He didn’t fight the move, no matter how much Dream wanted to. This thoughts and feelings were still swirling around and confusing him. In his mind he wanted to still be angry at XD and scream at him for not listening, but his body just wanted to be coddled and wrapped up in XD’s cloak like he was a child again.

XD moved into George’s room and carefully placed his brother over the bed. Dream winced, when his wrists touched onto the sheets, but as he went to held them up they were gathered in XD’s hands. A tingling, ticklish feeling washed over Dream’s skin, and then the injury was healed and XD drew his hands away.

“You should sleep.” XD spoke. “Maybe get some water…”

Dream was tired, and his throat did feel scratchy from all the screaming. His body still felt weird, like the ghostly tickles were lingering on the edge, waiting to pounce him. Ghostly anticipation.

“Are you going to see Punz now?” Dream had to ask.

“Yes but…not to speak to him. Not yet. I’m going to try and find him and then decide what to do from there.”

Dream gave a silent sorry to Punz, wherever they were. XD promised not to harm them but he couldn’t help but feel he’d just gotten Punz locked into a future tickle torture session with his brother.

“Sleep.” XD said again and when Dream looked up he saw the God placing down a glass of water by the bedside table.

His throat cried out for water, but Dream ignored it and instead looked up to XD. “Will you be going then?”

“Soon…” XD nodded.

“Will you come back, or will you keep avoiding me?”

XD was taken aback by the question and even Dream was himself. He knew it was frustration but he couldn’t care less. He deserved to act a little petty.

“I’m not avoiding you…” XD sounded genuinely hurt which almost wavered Dream’s heart.

Almost.

“You haven’t spoken to me for a week, and the first time you do it’s to torture me to give up my friend.”

“This is serious Dream. If there are more Eyes out there or someone who can make them, it’s dangerous!”

“Then why didn’t you talk to me about it? Why didn’t you come sooner? Why did you make me wait and worry that each day would be the day you’d come back and drag me back to that prison?”

“I-I didn’t…” XD’s voice sounded hurt. “I needed to figure out what to say to you. I needed a plan for how to deal with everything.”

“Why do you need a plan for me?! Why can’t you just talk with me first?!  You’re my brother! We’re siblings, but you look for every excuse, every other way apart from just speaking to me! I’m your last resort to come to when you should have just spoken to me first!”

Tears flowed down Dream’s cheeks again and this time he didn’t have the tickling to blame. He never sobbed or cried though it welled up in his throat wanting to. Dream wouldn’t give XD that. He swallowed back his cries and shut his eyes.

He couldn’t hear XD move, but Dream just willed himself to believe the God had left. He kept telling himself that until he felt the hand run through his hair. It stopped at the base of his skull and scratched softly at his scalp. Dream couldn’t hold back the whine or gentle sigh that left him. He hated how easily he could relax in XD’s arms.

“I’m sorry, Dream.” XD’s voice sounded hoarse as well, like holding back a cry of their own. “I truly am. I don’t… I still don’t know what to do sometimes. I fear if I do one thing it’s not what you want, but then I end up doing the other and it hurts you still.”

Dream wanted to speak, but the scratching on his scalp made him too tired to think properly or form any words. He just felt the comfort of the mattress underneath him, the pillows under his head, and the warm blanket that suddenly covered him. Dream didn’t have to open his eyes to know it was green.

“I want to speak with you. Properly. I’ll speak with you soon. I promise. Sometime in the coming days…”

The words faded as did the rest of the world. The comforts and warmth all rolled into Dream as one, cradling him down into a soft gentle sleep.

His waking was not so soft. It was hand on his shoulder, rousing Dream from his slumber suddenly and George’s voice ringing in his ears. “Wake up! Dream!”

It took him a while to shake the sleep from his mind and blink himself awake. He felt groggy and unbearably thirsty. It was now night time. Candles were lit in the cottage to give it light and George was sat on the edge of their bed.

“Was XD here?” George asked frantically. “There’s a note left on the table from him. Was he here?”

Dream drank the water as George carried on. He was holding a note which he handed over when Dream asked for it. It was written in XD’s hand, though rather messily.

Dream. I meant what I said about speaking with you. I need to prepare things but in a couple of days I’d like to meet with you and we can discuss talking on fairer terms. If you ever need me before then, you can always find a way to the Glade and I’ll come to you.

Don’t worry about the prison. I’m taking care of that.

The last line cause Dream off guard. What did that mean? How was he taking care of the prison? XD never showed interest to the building, even when it had been Dream planning and organising it. He had waved it off as keeping neutrality then and even when it was Dream in it he sill refused to act.

What has changed his mind? Dream wondered. And what does he plan to do? What counts as ‘taking care of it’ to him.

“Dream!” George snapped, pulling Dream from his thoughts and reminded him he wasn’t alone. “What happened?”

It wasn’t an easily answered question, but it reminded Dream that George wasn’t here because of his meeting with Sapnap, and sparked a question.

“George! Did you go to the meeting? Was Punz there?”

“Punz?” George pulled and and raised one eyebrow. “Why you asking about him?”

“Was he?”

“No…well… That’s funny you should mention that, because Punz was supposed to be there but he never showed up. Sapnap seemed worried. Apparently Punz was helping with defences for the Kingdom a few days ago but he was acting off.”

Acting off? Dream thought. He wondered what would be considered acting off for Punz. The mercenary was a master manipulator, so it’s not like they’d be acting suspicious. But then Dream hadn’t given any plans out for dealing with Kinoko. He taunted about it to Sapnap of course but he had no plans at the moment for it. Especially not when George was so closely tied to it.

“Why are you asking about him?” George asked.

 “I… Well XD was here.”

“I knew it!” George climbed onto the bed. “It was so obvious! What did they say? They’re not…thinking of taking you to prison right?”

“No. I don’t… I don’t think so. But something did happen.”

“What?”

A blush flushed over Dream’s cheeks, but he cleared his throat and readied himself to explain. If Dream was going to go through with his plans, then he wanted George there by his side. And that meant telling him everything.

Dream sat up on the bed, faced George and began to explain.

[coraniaid]

Character asks:

Xander, 1 and 21.

1 Why do you like or dislike this character?

Going to focus on the why part and avoid coming to a firm conclusion about the implicit binary choice.

Season 5's The Replacement posits that there are two Xanders -- one suave and self-confident, one a bumbling walking punchline -- before revealing that both of these Xanders are equally real and exist as aspects of the true and singular Xander, with neither having primacy over the other. However, while there are indeed two diametrically opposed versions of Xander Harris, real fans of the show know that they don't exactly correspond to what the show suggests here. The true distinction is between, on the one hand, the Xander who grows up miserable and alone in an abusive household and is determined not to become his father and who loves and supports his friends unconditionally and is maybe/probably/definitely bi but doesn't seem to realize it yet and, on the other hand, the Xander who makes frequent gross sexual comments about all the women he knows and visibly and bitterly resents the ways they outshine him and who considers it his moral duty to give them terrible, patronising, unsolicitied advice about their personal lives whenever he can.

As in The Replacement, both versions of the character have equal claim to be the 'real' Xander. The much more irritating one is perhaps more present in the early seasons (especially when the writers genuinely seem to be trying to set him up in an actual love triangle with Buffy herself, but also throughout much of his 'romance' with Cordelia) but he never really goes away, even after the writers started trying to find new things to do with his character from The Zeppo onwards. He shows up in Season 5 to explain to Buffy how it's all her fault that her boyfriend metaphorically cheated on her while she was selfishly worrying about her sick mother and he's actually a really great guy Buffy never properly appreciated (he doesn't say "can I have sex with Riley too?" in this episode, but he might as well have done); he shows up in Season 6 to sulk about the fact that the woman he left at the altar dared to sleep with somebody who wasn't him and how much she "disgusts" him as a result; he shows up in Season 7 to help kick Buffy out of her own house.

But, equally, the sympathetic, loyal and, yes, even heroic Xander isn't just some post hoc fandom creation either. There are hints even earlier, but Season 3 and especially Season 4 really do make it clear that Xander's home life is horrific. He does risk his life to save Buffy's in Prophecy Girl, even when Angel wouldn't, even after Buffy had been clear she didn't reciprocate his feelings toward her. He does eventually admit to some of his worst behaviour (his jealousy about Angel, his betrayal of Cordelia). His treatment of Anya, while horrible, really does make sense as an attempt to do the right thing for somebody he cares about by somebody almost utterly consumed by self-loathing.

His speech to Buffy in the second half of The Freshman ("when it's dark and I'm all alone and I'm scared [...] I always ask: what would Buffy do? You're my hero.") is, despite what he says immediately afterwards, genuinely touching. The way that, in The Replacement, even the cowardly incompetent side of Xander is willing to risk his life to protect Anya from what he thinks is a demon is honestly kind of sweet. His speech to Willow at the end of Season 6's Grave ("I'm not joking [...] I can't imagine the pain you're in [...] You're Willow [...] I love you") and to his speech to Dawn in Season 7's Potential ("You gave her your power [...] You're not special. You're extraordinary") both feel like genuinely well-earned moments in light of everything we've seen of Xander so far.

The fundamental tension inherent to Xander is that he doesn't smoothly and effortlessly develop from one version of the character to the other. It's not as simple as the grating Xander from the early seasons "getting better". Both sides of his character are present -- and either side can be dominant -- from the very beginning of the show and right until the end.

21 If you're a fic writer and have written for this character, what's your favorite thing to do when you're writing for this character? What's something you don't like?

Well, I am a fic writer and I have, technically, written for this character (he is the POV character for one fairly short chapter of Coexist.) I think he is a very hard character to write well (especially in the high school seasons) and I'm not at all sure I managed.

Honestly, I think well-written fanfic takes on Xander that actually treat him seriously as a character are incredibly rare. (Off the top of my head I can think of exactly one example. I'm sure there are others -- and I'm sure part of the issue is that I only really read a particular subset of Buffy fanfic -- but I doubt there are many others.)

I think a lot of fanfic writers really just don't like Xander at all (and so only write the horrible Xander, if that, and only so they can have the characters they like call him out on his worst behaviour), whereas other writers lean too heavily into the sympathetic Xander (and either have him explicitly realize and denounce his own poor behaviour early on or just write a meek and mild 'Xander' who just needs a hug and who has never even thought about saying anything inappropriate to any woman ever, which ... well, that's not the character that appears on screen, is it?).

I think the trick to writing Xander well, such as it is -- and the approach I tried to take myself -- is to try to treat him as sympathetically as possible without pretending he isn't often prone to jealousy and making mean-spirited comments, that he isn't a bit of a massive hypocrite at times and that he doesn't often say "funny" things that aren't when he shouldn't. That's harder than just playing up the angle that Xander's parents are awful and he's trying his best and suggesting he'd be much happier if he just followed Anya's advice to Buffy and found a "nice, boring, boyfriend", but I think if you don't try you're not writing a sympathetic version of Xander Harris so much as you're creating a whole new character.

Yes, Xander (mostly) is trying his best, and his parents (especially his father) are awful, but very often Xander's best is far from good enough. He will say awful things sometimes and he probably won't apologize for it, even if he does secretly feel ashamed by it. You have to try to write both versions of Xander -- both the one that makes sense as one of Buffy and Willow's best friends and the one who really doesn't seem to have anything in common with them at all -- if you're going to write the Xander.

That being said, the absolute worst thing you can do to Xander is give him magical powers or superhuman fighting skills so he can Help Buffy Patrol. That's not who he is! That's not true to either version of the character!

(... sorry, I lied. That's the second worst thing you can do to Xander. The actual worst thing is what the comics do with him and Dawn. No super-powered fantasy fanfic could be more horrible and ill-advised than that.)

[godtier]

so i wasn't gonna make a separate post about this but @sapphire-weapon had a post (that i reblogged a few days ago) in which someone mentioned that they think it was a missed opportunity in RE6 for jake to not have spoken to wesker. i had a p long conversation with sirea about it and my thoughts about that sentiment, but it was also nearly 3 AM my time when that happened so i dunno if i was even articulating my thoughts properly lmao

and yes... this is technically a meta post and i know i said i was gonna do the mmx meta post first... but this one isn't gonna be nearly as long (i hope) and i gotta get the brainworms out before i die

(quick edit note: i reworded the list item below from saying he was "likely a drug addict" to "likely a recreational drug user" because i feel like that better encompasses what i'm trying to get across

(another edit note: i made another post regarding jake's usage of drugs that stemmed from this post! it's marked as mature bc of drug usage, so it won't show up in tag search. if you're interested in that, look here!)

so the idea that wesker being alive in OG RE6 would have brought an opportunity for jake's character is kinda, imo, antithetical to the purpose of jake's character in the first place.

when we meet jake, we know a few things about him, right off the bat:

he's a mercenary

he's likely a recreational drug user or at least heavy/risk-taking user

he doesn't give a fuck about anything but making money

his whole character journey is going from this selfish, money-focused dickhead to someone who actually cares about doing something good, just because it's the right thing to do. at the start, jake refuses to simply give his blood away when sherry mentions needing it for a vaccine. no, he wants a cash payout. 50 million dollery-doos for a pint of his blood. by the end, he lowers the price to a mere 50 dollars. one could argue that was symbolic and he actually didn't care if he was paid or not, but that's neither here nor there.

but why was he like this? because his childhood was shite; his mother was sickly, he had no father figure, and by 15-ish, jake had to learn how to hustle to keep food on the table. and by "hustle" i mean "do a bunch of mercenary work and killing people." and when shit went south with his little group of mercenaries (their entire group was sold out by a heel-turner), jake basically went "fuck alla y'all" and lost all sense of conviction or morals.

during the game, he expresses his bitterness for his father, wesker, pretty clearly. even though his mother still loved wesker, tried to raise jake to respect him despite never knowing him, it didn't matter to jake. he hated that guy. well, really, who doesn't?

we're not gonna talk about excella rn ok

jake's entire character arc is built up around this hatred as well as a subconscious fear of becoming his father. the fear part doesn't show up until later in the story, after he and sherry were captured by the Big Bad's organization. they were both experimented on for several months, during which jake overheard the researchers talking about his father, wesker. this gives jake a sort of "explanation" as to why he is the way he is; he takes the "nature" side of the nature vs nurture argument.

ofc sherry scolds his ass and basically tells him "grow up and take responsibility for your actions."

and here's the thing... this fear, narratively, works just fine without wesker being there.

(since this got obscenely long, pls continue below for the actual explanation lmao)

jake eventually comes to the conclusion that yeah no it's definitely up to him to not become wesker, not his genetics. he does this without wesker being there. that's the entire point of his character journey. in order for an interaction with wesker to even matter or have any sort of impact on jake's character arc, his character arc as a whole would need to change.

see, imo, wesker being there diminishes a lot of the power of that journey. in the game, he isn't there for jake to scream at, to question. all those thoughts in his head that might be circulating around, like why he left his mother, why he did what he did, etc, cannot be answered. this is not a bad thing in a character arc as this is shit that happens to people all the time. people don't always get the answers they may want from family members because those family members are dead. they have to learn to move on without those answers or they have to rely on people who knew that person to fill in the blanks. this is what jake already does in game. he has to rely on sherry, and by a smaller extent, chris, to fill in those blanks for him.

but we as players, observers of the narrative, already know the answers to some of those questions. why wesker did what he did, primarily. anything else is only pertinent to jake and him knowing those answers doesn't change anything for his character arc as it is.

if wesker was there in the game, what would that even add to jake's narrative? a scene where jake yells at his dad? asks him "why did you leave?" when wesker wasn't even aware that he had a kid in the first place? remember: wesker had no fucking idea that he had a child. there would be no reason for wesker to even believe jake in the first place. sure, there could be a scene where he goes "well i'll be damned, ig he really is my misfired chromosome," but... then what? what does that add?

you could argue that wesker could use jake, maybe try to manipulate him into doing shit for his plans, but... that wouldn't work with the way jake's characterization is mapped out. his entire characterization would have to change for this to work in a satisfying way.

jake already hates wesker without ever meeting him. he would not willingly participate in anything wesker offered to him. he already knows that wesker nearly destroyed the world multiple times and had a hand in destroying an entire city. even if jake has no moral compass at the start of the game, by the time he learns about what wesker really did, who he really was, he's already showing that he does have one, it was just dormant up until that point. he's clearly disgusted by what wesker did. what foothold would wesker have that wouldn't immediately result in it just falling flat?

given how wesker is, i could see him perhaps belittling jake, maybe saying "wow you suck for being my spawn," or something during a fight with the intent to rile him up. would that work? no, not narratively nor not in the way jake is characterized. again, jake doesn't want to be like wesker. why would insulting him and saying he's not "as good" as wesker expected him to be motivate jake or even anger him? it shouldn't, because jake doesn't want to be anything like wesker. if anything, it may annoy him, but that's kind of a lame reaction, right?

if anything, the most i could see culminating out of this would be jake standing over wesker after he's defeated again (because it's resident evil and obviously wesker can't win) and having a "wow idk what i was worried about" moment. that's it.

but he doesn't need that. having a scene like that cheapens the weight of him figuring that out himself, without wesker there as "proof."

because the point of his story, of his character arc, is that he figures that out on his own (and with the help of sherry and the events he witnesses) because he has to. he doesn't need wesker there to spoon-feed that to him. he figures that out by working with sherry, by seeing the effects of the C-Virus on everything that it infects. wesker being an abstract entity in his life is enough, because the frustration of not seeing him, not being able to put a bullet in his skull himself, fuels the rest of his journey.

this is where i think that people who make these observations or criticisms (primarily those who think that jake's character would have been improved if wesker was there) need to understand the difference between what's good for a character as a person and what's good for their arc.

interacting with wesker would be good for jake as a person, in that he would no longer need to wonder about it. the answers would be spelled out for him, and he wouldn't have to do any wondering about the what-if. he wouldn't have any doubts left that he'd need to untangle.

but in doing that, it cheapens his arc; it would do more of a disservice to it, imo, than anything else. it would make his journey more formulaic and boring.

it would also clutter up the already cluttered narrative of that game. you have him not only struggling with his heritage, struggling with the fear of becoming his father, struggling with needing to be the "savior" by giving his blood, struggling with his moral compass, but now also struggling with seeing his father for the first time in person?

it makes his arc top-heavy. in that scenario, you could easily replace him with another, completely new character who has zero ties to wesker and the story wouldn't change in any meaningful way. the reason why it works the way to does now is because wesker is already dead. it creates that internal conflict, that internal frustration, that jake has to learn how to deal with since he cannot take that frustration out on his father in-person. he has to make peace with that struggle in other ways.

now, that's not to say there aren't ways that adding wesker into the story of RE6 that don't disrupt that balance. primarily, when it comes to a potential RE6 remake, the writing team can (and hopefully will) rework aspects of the entire game to make the plot more streamlined. this could include adding wesker in and redoing jake's characterization and character arc entirely.

this would be the only way i could see it working out. if jake's entire motivation was changed, his entire backstory was tweaked, then wesker being around could probably work! an interaction between them could be made to make sense and not bog down the rest of the plot as a result.

sirea also mentioned to me in our conversation that adding wesker in to RE6 remake could actually help streamline the plot and i do agree with that. she mentioned that all of the main characters have a tie to wesker in some way, which is absolutely true. having him there would neatly tie their campaigns together in the plotline and make the game as a whole feel less disjointed and messy.

this is especially true when we consider there are 4 fuckin campaigns that all run alongside one another and intersect at random points. it gets so fucking difficult to page through and figure out when certain things happen in the plot. you'll see them happen in order in chris's campaign, for example, then you go start leon's campaign and have to start over again and try to remember what happened at the same time during chris's campaign and so on.

now imagine that not with just two campaigns but four. it gets gross quick. sure, there are parts where the characters run into each other and that helps ground a general timeline in your head, but as far as time elapsed... it's so fuckin hard u guise

there's a reason why it's so hard to summarize the plot of RE6. it's because there is just so much going on in that fucking game.

anyway, that's my rant/sort of meta analysis about why i think wesker didn't need to be in OG RE6 and probably would have made jake's entire arc stupider than it already was

[soul-sparx]

Guilty Gear XX Accent Core Plus R tierlist ranked by how each character treats A.B.A

Based on their win-quotes against A.B.A

Reasoning under the cut

Niceys :) <333333

Sol Badguy

"Well, at least you've got a strong head."

It isn't much, but remember that this is Sol we're talking about. He is blunt, brutally honest, and a bit mean in general. He does not give out compliments lightly. Even a slightly sarcastic one like this means A.B.A has impressed him, and he conveys that well.

Ky Kiske

"You should tend to your wounds properly. Especially if you're a woman."

The "especially if you're a woman" thing is a little weird, but reads more like misplaced chivalry than anything. The point here is that he is concerned about her wellbeing, hoping for her to take care of herself.

Faust

"Your prescription is…to learn about society. That is all."

He has examined her through battle, and his conclusion is that there isn't anything wrong with her. He wishes her well, and hopes for her to come out of her shell.

Axl Low

"What an original and sexy fashion sense! How exciting!"

Self-explanatory. He just thinks she's super hot.

Kliff Undersn

"Your injuries look grave. Are you all right? Hmm..That axe looks familiar... Have I seen it somewhere before?"

He's worried about her, and wants to make sure he didn't hurt her too hard. He's also interested in Paracelsus, likely remembering his days in the crusades as the Sanguine Gale. He's just being a nice old man :)

Johnny

"You should learn to communicate from my band of merry thieves. Come on…"

He offers her a position in the Jellyfish Pirates! He does this in the story mode as well! He barely knows her, but he wants to help her out the only way he knows how! What a kind dude!

Venom

"Guild members are required to learn a certain degree of interpersonal skills. Perhaps you could benefit from the same training?"

Much like how Johnny offers to let her join the Jellyfish Pirates, Venom offers to let her join the Assassin's Guild to help her out! He is nice :)

Dizzy

"I don't know how to say this…but we could be good friends! Don't you think?"

She wants to be friends!!!!! She's so sweet!!!!!!!!

Slayer

"Flament Nagel and an artificial life-form, hmmm? I find your story quite interesting!"

It's a bit nonpersonal, but he is interested in A.B.A and wants to learn more. I can only imagine them chatting over a couple glasses of blood :)

Bridget

"Nice! You'd definitely get a lot of money with that talking key!"

Her first thought is on money, but still. She thinks Paracelsus is cool, and is super supportive of the two of them!

Zappa

"Eek! A woman's on the floor covered in blood and bandages! I gotta find a doctor Faust…err, fast!"

He's a little scared of her, but he still wants to help! What a sweetie

I-No

"Wouldn't you prefer something warm-blooded instead of that cold metal rod you have there?" "That thing's your husband? It looks like a big toy for such a little woman. Can you handle all of it? Haha! You have great taste in men!"

Look, I dunno how else to say it. I-No is just super DTF.

Neutral

A.B.A

"There's another artificial life-form besides me!? There was no record of it…"

More surprised than anything, no positive or negative feelings shown beyond that.

Order-Sol

"A homunculus, huh? Now that's rare."

Deeply impersonal, barely even interested. She's barely a curiosity for him.

Robo-Ky

"WHAT A SHAME, WHAT A SHAME. YOU'RE NEITHER HUMAN NOR ROBOT. PICK A SIDE!"

Considering A.B.A's quote for winning against him, I feel like there's potential for a friendship, but Robo seems more confused by A.B.A's existence than anything. There is some annoyance, but that seems more directed at the not-knowing than at A.B.A herself.

May

"What a big weapon you got there…isn't it heavy?"

May seems more interested in Paracelsus than A.B.A. She's a nice girl in general, so I think they could develop a friendship eventually, but it's off to kind of a weird start.

Potemkin

"…I'm not like you! Don't look at me like that!"

This is a little mean, but given how he treats her in story mode, I feel like it's more confusion and annoyance at the situation than at A.B.A herself. He just doesn't want people to think he's an artificial being.

Chipp Zanuff

"You really think I'd lose to someone who's injured!? Who do you think I am!?"

This is just Chipp being cocky as always. It could've been anyone, if he wins against anyone, he's gonna lord over them for a bit. He holds nothing against A.B.A specifically.

Eddie

"I DON'T KNOW HOW LONG THAT ARTIFICIAL ENERGY LASTS, SO I'LL LET YOU GO. FOR NOW."

This is probably about as nice as Eddie can be to anyone who isn't Zato, and it's still pretty limp. A.B.A is nothing but a potential body to him. He literally does not care one way or the other about her. There is no love, nor disdain.

Testament

"You also took the blood oath? Hmph, I guess not."

They're a little interested in her, perhaps thinking she's also a Gear. Once they realize she isn't, they lose interest. Perhaps modern Testament would be kinder to her, but as they were in ACPR, they just kind of don't care.

Jam Kuradoberi

"Your complexion is terrible! Blood transfusion pack? My food's much better for your health."

She starts with an insult, but then offers to help, so it's less neutrality and more a situation of both the good and the bad. I think Jam is just a weirdo.

Mean to her!!!!!!!

Millia Rage

"You should learn some manners before seeking knowledge. I suggest you go home."

The least mean mean thing someone says to her, it's still clear Millia has no patience for A.B.A. How rude.

Baiken

"You're such a pain. I hate people that just sneak around in the shadows."

MEAN TO HER!!!!!!!!

Justice

"Accursed homunculus! It's ridiculous that the gate will open with just that. I hope you wander in the darkness eternally."

This is so personal and rude, Justice fuckin' hates A.B.A and for no reason. Kill this woman NOW!!!!!!!!!

Anji Mito

"Stand straight and speak louder, will you? Just looking at you drives me nuts."

What did she ever do to you, huh? Kill this man NOW!!!!!!!!!!!!