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auspicioustidings · 6 months

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Savage

Summary: Request for some Scottish warrior Soap taking an English maiden as a prize.

Words: 3.7k

CWs: Violent non-con (I am so serious, do not ready this if it's not your thing), hardcore smut

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Authors Note: This is very much a rape fantasy. Traditionally rape fantasies have historical grounding in minorities who felt ashamed of their own desires so had to fantasise a situation in which they were blameless for engaging in a stigmatised action because it was forced. It’s sort of where a lot of the noncon trope in bodice rippers comes from because women in unhappy marriages need a fantasy in which they can get rid of the shame for wanting passionate or rough sex because they imagine they fought against it. A lot more people have rape fantasies than people generally realise and truly a miniscule barely there number of them would ever think it was ok to actually assault someone. All that to say, this is not me condoning anything in real life. If you find fantasies like this don’t do it for you, then do not read it, but don’t then shame people who do. There is psychology behind why people fantasise about these things, it’s pretty normal and you don’t need to be worried that it is some moral failing. Mind your business.

It was a miraculously good match for you, a high ranking soldier of the King’s army. You were technically of noble blood, but just barely. You lived simply, not in a large house but in a small village where you held no sway over anyone else and were treated as common. But the village was close to the border between England and Scotland and every day it became more tense as whispers of raids from villages to the West skittered between houses like rats.

You didn’t know how your uncle had made arrangements for this beneficial marriage for you, but it would get you moving South in a few days time to marry and then you would finally be able to relax with this war much further away from you. You had heard horror stories of what happened to young maidens when savages came pillaging. They said that they didn’t wear anything under those kilts, they said it was to make it easy to bury their cocks in any hot hole they could find. They said they didn’t have any tame qualities, not like the English. Scottish men were feral, the comparison to dogs not holding water because at least dogs could be trained.

When you retreated to bed you got on your knees to say your prayers. As always you had to beg forgiveness for the licentious thoughts that sent thrills straight to your cunt whenever you thought about the images all those rumours put in your head.

–

The noise of chaos woke you in a panic, heart hammering against your ribcage as the smell of smoke drifted on the air and war cries sounded. You recognised your own kinfolk of course, the battalion of soldiers stationed here to keep eyes on the border. But it was the cries of those animals from the country to the North that sent you scrambling out of bed in only your chemise, knowing you had to run and hide before they could see you.

You slipped out of the bedroom, a frightened little rabbit looking for a burrow to hop into. The smell of smoke was stronger in the main room and you could see the orange glow of flames through the window. Going outside would be a risk, but hiding in here may get you burned to a crisp should this building be lit up. You did not have time to make the decision as the door burst off of its hinges, a muscular man in a blood spattered kilt with a warrior's mohawk and wild eyes panting like a dog as he caught sight of you.

You were frozen, unable to even breathe. And then after a beat his mouth stretched into a horrid manic grin as he bounded towards you. That finally shifted you from freeze to flight as you scrambled back through to the bedroom, trying to get to the small window. You threw the top half of your body through the gap but his rough hands grabbed your naked ankles and yanked you back, hard. You felt the chemise catch on the window frame, the fabric bunching up to completely expose you to him before he let go of your ankles letting you crash to the ground.

Your knees throbbed from the hard floor and by the time you were trying to crawl away he had his hand in your hair, brutally pulling your head up and craning it to look at him leaning over and getting into your face.

“Hear I have a wee noble bitch on my hands.”

Of course he would know. There were families here who would tell them anything to save themselves and pointing them in the direction of a noble maiden, one who was betrothed to an English soldier at that, would certainly be information that could spare them. The shouts outside sounded more heavily weighted towards those in his own gruff and growling accent now. The English soldiers were losing.

“I-I don’t know what you are talking about ser” you cried gently, not knowing how else to save yourself.

“Bonnie words” he growled, pulling so sharply at your hair that you thought your scalp might be bleeding and using his other hand to grope meanly at one of your breasts through the rough fabric of your nightwear.

You cried out, feeling the tears immediately spill over and stream down your face. He was so strong, you could barely budge against his hold, and he reeked of blood and fire and sweat and hot arousal. You squeezed your eyes shut and he only growled at you.

“Ye’ll keep those eyes open, yer going tae watch yer wee English cunt take me like a whore or I’ll take yer tight arse instead.”

You choked on a sob and opened your eyes, seeing that his were full of sick glee and heat. The hand groping at your tits moved under the chemise to cup roughly at your sex and he pulled you to your feet by that hand. You screamed at how it felt as he abused you with his hand, grinding the heel against you. You felt a hot flood of bitter shame as he swiped a finger violently through your folds. What he found there made him pause for a moment, his face lighting up in unrestrained glee.

“Fucking English slut. Y’er dripping.”

You had heard women who said it would be better to be wet if they were to be taken against their will. You did not agree. Him knowing that your traitorous body found his rough abuse of it arousing was so humiliating you felt you would rather die. He was so oppressive in his demeanour, so big and aggressive above you that you imagined he may break your bed with what he was about to do to you. How foolish of you to think he would have that level of mercy.

“Going tae show all those bastards how their women take Scottish cock” he laughed, spearing two fingers inside you to their full length with no softness at all and pulling you by them.

You could not breathe. You had never had anything inside you and those two fat fingers felt like they were stretching you so much you would tear. He walked backwards so he could keep them firmly inside you and you stumbled pathetically after him, needing to keep as close to him as possible to stop the painful press against your walls that came from him pulling if you did not move.

The shame was overwhelming as you emerged, full of his fingers and stumbling after him with tears streaming down your face, to find that your country's soldiers had been defeated with the survivors on their knees, hands bound. You were being paraded in front of them you realised, they had been put right here in the town square so they could bear witness, the Scottish soldiers standing behind them feral and full of lust as they took in their leader pulling you in front of them by the cunt.

When he ripped his fingers out of you, your knees buckled and a high whine left you. You had went from feeling too full to feeling far, far too empty. You could barely hear anything but the blood rushing through you as your heart hammered. That and him as he taunted the soldiers on their knees.

“Our women would ne’er let ye touch them, they’d die first. Yer clean wee English princess on the ither hand?” he said, planting a booted foot to your chest and pushing until he had you pinned on your back underfoot, “she’s gagging fir it. Foaming at the gusset tae take strong Scottish cock, put a real warrior in her belly.”

His own men cheered at that and you watched on with horror as he cocked his head at one of them and he began to approach you.

“Naw a monster though am I my wee slut? Ye’d be wet enough fir one of their small English cocks nae doubt, but fir mine? Going tae need something to help me sink in good and deep.”

The other soldier went to his knees between your legs and you watched as he pulled his throbbing cock from under his kilt, jerking it violently. You tried to move away, his cock so close you could feel the heat of it between your legs, but the boot on your chest held you still. When you tried to close your legs the man touching himself used his other hand to wrench one of your knees until it was touching the ground, using his own knees between your thighs to help him keep your glistening cunt fully on display.

When the head of his cock stroked through your folks, slicking you with his pre-cum and bumping at your clit, you were so overwhelmed that you didn’t quite manage to bite back your moan. They laughed meanly at you as the man found his release, spurting hot cum all over your pussy, smacking his cock against your stomach when he was done to shake off the last drops.

It was filthy, you felt sticky and like you were on fire. The next soldier took his place and spat right on your already disgusting cunt as he began to stroke himself. By the time he had painted you with his seed and the third was started, the man above pressed his foot harder to get your attention and all you could do was stare up into his taunting eyes, trying to focus on him so you could not think of what was going on between your legs. You cried up at him, trying to find any level of sympathy in him.

“Keep crying and I’ll gie ye something tae cry about princess.”

Oh you hated him calling you that when you were pinned down in the dirt, defeated soldiers of your country watching as their enemies smeared their cum all over your exposed body. Watching as they made a sloppy mess out of you in preparation for their leader to shove his cock deep inside and pump you full of his savage children.

You did not know how long you stared up at him, not able to look away as you felt the heat of his men on your body, your own body getting hotter and hotter with each slide of velvety throbbing skin against your own. He had started to talk to you, his eyes not budging. It wasn’t the defeated soldiers he was taunting, it was you, ruined and disgraced under his boot.

“See how good I am tae ye little whore? Letting my men make ye flush wi pleasure. Don’t deny it, think I cannae see yer face whenever ye feel a cock on that wee untouched pussy? Like a fucking bitch in heat. I’ll fuck ye like one. Get ye on yer hands and knees so ye can look yer precious King’s soldiers in the eye when ye fall apart on my cock. When ye’r fucking begging for my cum. Wilnae even have tae dae any work, ye’ll be fucking yourself back on me ye needy slut.”

You shook your head in horror at his claims, the true fear being that he would make them true. Already you felt in a daze, felt empty and desperate. But you felt fear as well as he put his arm under his kilt, rucking the fabric up to grab at his cock. It was huge and you found yourself panicked and squirming as the last of his soldiers grunted and slapped the meat of your thigh to get you to stay still. You were rambling incoherently as the man above stroked slowly at himself, causing that thick weapon between his legs to throb and seem even bigger.

“It won’t fit, it’s not going to fit, please I’ll die, you’ll split me open. It’s so big no no I can’t, I can’t!”

You didn’t even feel the last of his soldier’s loads splatter onto you, didn’t notice when his hands left your flesh. You would have rapidly purpling skin in the shape of fingerprints all over your thighs from how you had been held still by all of them, but you could not feel the dull pain of it through your fear of what was to come.

“Ye’ll take whit I gie ye and ye’ll fucking thank me princess.”

He removed his foot and it was only then you realised that he had been pressing down hard enough that your breaths had been shallow. The rush of oxygen from being able to fully expand your lungs again made you horribly dizzy, but it also flooded right down to your clit and made your body jerk violently with the sensation.

He didn’t take his hand from his cock and he bent so he could use the other to grab your ruined hair again, yanking your head up and shoving himself into your mouth. You choked, legs scrambling to get underneath you to give you some stability with which to batter your fists against his thighs, trying to pull away. He laughed meanly at your attempts, moving the hand that was touching himself to join the one tangled in your hair on the back of your head and pulling your head at the same time as he thrust forward, settling himself fully in your throat.

You were gagging around him, tears really streaming down your face now as you begged him with your eyes to let you breathe. He held you there, his own eyes glittering with satisfaction, until your muscles started to give in and you felt your eyes dropping closed as your brain became cottony. Then all at once he pulled you off and you were gulping in oxygen around your coughing and sputtering, the rush much more intense this time.

He held your head tilted up at him so he could watch your face as he shoved his boot between your legs and got you over the edge. Oh weren’t you a delicious little thing for him, getting off so hard on how he used you, moaning shakily and wantonly in the dirt beneath him in front of his triumphant soldiers and your defeated ones.

“Good fucking girl” he growled with a feral grin, letting you ride it out with little aborted thrusts on his boot, unable to control your body.

You looked gone, eyes glazed and body slack. Couldn’t have that, he needed you screaming for him. He needed your blood fighting between being frozen with terror and boiling with need. And he needed you full of him, needed to be able to feel his own cock through your stomach so fucking clearly that he could jerk it.

You were thrown forward, top half of your body collapsing pathetically into the dirt right where it was covered in the sweat and cum of his soldiers. He manhandled your hips up, leaving your face crushed into the dirt and your ass up high for him, cunt presented. You felt his hot breath at your ear and it was a sudden shock when you realised he was growling lowly into your ear, his words for you and you only.

“S’going tae hurt, yer going tae scream yerself hoarse for me and then I’ll get ye tae milk me when I rip pleasure out of all that pain. Will treat ye right after little princess, like one of my good Scottish lassies, but right now ye’r my fucking English whore.”

The confusing mix of sentiments cleared some of the fuzziness from your mind but you had no time to dwell. He was right, it did hurt and you did scream yourself hoarse. He had lined himself up and plunged into you, cock coated and slick from the cum of his soldiers but no less huge inside your tight virgin pussy. He had split you in two, you were sure of it. His cock must have broken through you, was sitting in your ribcage and punching all the air from your lungs.

You blacked out for a moment, coming right back to when he pulled out to fuck brutally back into you again, slapping your ass so hard that you felt the sting all the way up to your fingertips and making you choke on the sob that fought through the screaming. He ripped at your hair, making you look at the defeated soldiers on their knees. Making you watch their own cocks swell at your treatment. Your utter ruination was making them hard. Your head being wrenched back meant you had to go to your hands as he pounded you, and you saw how they looked as one of your breasts was fucked right out of the chemise, bouncing lewdly for them to see with every hard thrust.

The humiliation had you digging into the dirt like you had claws, feeling the bite of the earth pushing under your nails. It sparked something in your brain, almost like you could see them sharpen. Like you could feel your shoulder blades become more pronounced, become something sinewy and sleek and animal. He was fucking you like a predator and you were drooling and howling and panting like his prey, back bowed as he pulled your hair harder and had to staring at the sky babbling prayers into the night air.

“S’too much, can’t, I can’t. Full, too full.”

“Ye fucking can. Yer tight fucking cunts trying tae strangle me, wants my cum so bad naw? Perfect English pussy, so slutty and needy for a real cock” he growled, hand letting go of your hair and smacking your ass right over where he had before, causing you to howl at the pain.

The pain and something else, something that had no place here and yet had been lingering from the moment he had caught you. Something that had been getting closer and brighter and more insistent with every abuse you were subject to. Something that he invited in when your arms collapsed beneath you without him holding your heads weight anymore and he ground your face into the ground before bringing his hand to your clit and pinching.

Your scream was raw and hoarse, throat well past being able to produce a clear sound. The orgasm was blinding and every bone felt like it had liquified. You saw white and then you saw hardly anything, only vague shapes and colours. The only thing now was how his cock filled you. The shame was gone, replaced with the truth that you loved this. You loved how he used you like this, how he violated you in front of these soldiers just because he could.

“That’s it princess, fucking take it” he hissed, stopping his thrusts and letting you do all the work.

You didn’t even realise now how you wildly fucked yourself back on his cock trying to chase the pain of overstimulation, addicted to the way it made you feel some sick hazy pleasure. You were drooling onto the dirt, tasting the earth mixed with cum and finding the disgust of it only felt right now. When his hand came to your stomach and pushed to feel himself bulging there you came again, harder, babbling thank yous to him.

He bit out a string of curses above you as your pussy squeezed so hard it was forcing him out, but he was strong as he forced himself balls deep and held there, finding his release as you milked everything out of him and into your womb. The liquid heat of it was the last thing you felt as you passed out, blissed and fucked out of your mind.

–

John MacTavish allowed himself a moment to lean his body against your back, inhaling the scent of sweat and dirt and cum and fear and lust from your limp body. So good for him, took it perfectly. He hissed when he finally pulled out, resisting the temptation to just keep going beyond what would feel good because fuck, being inside you had been a religious experience.

He was nothing if not a man of his word though, and he scooped your body gently into his arms to get you onto a horse and ready for him to take over the border where he could give you that princess treatment he had promised. The surviving soldiers they would leave beaten and bloodied but not dead. After all, someone had to tell your betrothed all the details.

“Fucking MacTavish” he hissed after excusing the man who had given the report.

He had made him give it in full detail, told him to leave nothing out.

“Kept her alive by the sounds of it, maybe looking to get a bastard out of her” Garrick mused.

“Knowing him he’ll keep her near the border to taunt us instead of moving her further up North” Price added.

Simon Riley would not be letting his betrothed get away with allowing MacTavish of all people to take the maidenhood that rightfully belonged to him. She needed a proper punishing fuck from an English man to learn better.

“Doesn’t matter where he keeps her. I’m going to take her, and she’s going to learn what happens to sluts who spread their legs for those Scottish bastards”.

#mhairiwrites #fanfic #cod au #john soap mactavish x reader #soap x reader #cw: noncon #rest assured this isn't likely to become the kind of thing I write because it is well out of my wheelhouse #I've got a half chapter of Firewatch written and will finish that off #But I'm looking to do a little more of the Teashop AU after and that is going to stay fluffy and wholesome as hell #darkfic #dark content

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endivinity · 4 months

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R u fr pro monarchy or is ur title a reference

girl it's from the lion king.

#hands down FUNNIEST ask i think i will ever receive this year #i don't even respect bethesda & it's my wheelhouse. do you think i'd stan for a bunch of god-ordained divine-appointed wretched beasts??#jesus christ .

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theminecraftbee · 4 months

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Afterwards, they do a race. They don’t talk about it, but it’s there, between them still. Something settled between them. Cleo doesn’t know how to say it; they never know how to say things like this. Still, they need to, so they wait until Ren’s race is over and then hike through the jungle to go sit on top of Etho’s base and wait for him to show up as well.

He doesn’t. He’d gone to their base. Instead of just showing up for each other, they have to somewhat awkwardly coordinate over text which base to meet at. It forces everything to feel more real.

When they finally meet up, it’s in the shopping district, leaning against the button. A dangerous game in theory, but Cleo’s not fully convinced it can explode at this point, so.

Cleo breathes. They’re both quiet for a moment.

"Okay, so like, are we doing this?" Cleo says.

"I don’t really know, uh, what this is," Etho says, "but I… care about you. I think. So I think we’re doing that."

Cleo nods once. "You know I don’t fall in love, right? I’m not going to fall in love with you, I don’t do that. Might say something about loving you, but it’s not the same thing. Different sense of the word. It’s different, loving people and falling in love, got it? And I won’t do that second thing. I’m never going to do that second thing. I don’t--"

"Okay. I know," Etho says.

"Do you?" Cleo asks.

"I mean, not entirely, but I’m frankly surprised we’re having this conversation in the first place. I never expected you to be in love with me."

"But I’m not," Cleo says. "I’m attracted to you, and I love you as like, a companion and friend or whatever, but I’m not in love with you. I’m. Ugh. I wish I knew the right words. I just--I also don’t let go of things so if we’re doing this you’re going to have to get used to that real fast. Me not being in love with you but me not letting you go, both of those things."

"You're attracted to me? Aw, Cleo," Etho says.

"Don't be an ass," Cleo says.

"Sorry, sorry. It's just, geez, this is--a heavy conversation, huh?"

Cleo sighs. "We'll work on the deflection."

Etho rubs the back of his head and looks away. "Uh, in that case. If I'm maybe a little in love with you--"

"I can't--I can't reciprocate that, Etho," Cleo says, and their voice cracks as they do.

"I know," Etho says. "I just want to make sure it's okay, then."

"You can't help that, can you? Just like I can't help that I still sort of want to kill anyone who hurts you."

Etho seems to think about it for a while. Cleo resists the urge to fidget. She's a zombie. She shouldn't have the urge to fidget; she should be too dead for that. Besides, it's hardly like it's a secret she doesn't fall in love, exactly. It's just... it's only relevant sometimes. Feeling like, as she watches Etho and Bdubs dance around each other, she's on the outside looking in. She'd kill to hold their hands, to protect them, hell, even to kiss them--but that's different. She just can't summon the same emotion of... she doesn't know.

Martyn had almost gotten it, for all he didn't get anything else, in the end. Scott was never going to fall in love with her in the first place, for obvious reasons. Whatever attraction she and Pearl have going on, it's definitely not love.

But this...

"Okay," Etho says.

"That's it?" Cleo says.

"I mean, does it need to be anything else?" Etho says. "It's not like we can just... not do this. I think it's too late for that. Whatever 'this' is. I'm in love, and you aren't, but we'd both be pretty upset to lose this, right? So I'll... figure it out."

Cleo swallows. They feel small. "Will you? Do you understand?"

Etho shrugs. "I understand that it's you, and it's you that this happened with, not anyone else."

"Okay," Cleo says. "Okay."

"Is it okay if I kiss you? Just to try it, I mean. Not like, as a--this is a bad time, actually, I don't want to try to make any kissing we do romantic, I mean, you just told me this won't be romantic, I--"

"Yeah, sure, you can kiss me," Cleo says, and he leans in to kiss them. It's nice. A little soft for what they'd want, really, but nice. He leans back. He looks them in the eyes.

"I get it a little more now."

Cleo is baffled. "How? Kissing is just like, a thing we did? How does that have anything to do with any of the rest of this."

Etho laughs. "I definitely get it a little more now. What do you want to tell the others? I know they're definitely gossiping."

"Ugh. Can we just, like, not?" Cleo says. "I don't want to have to explain it."

"I'll just be confusing then, got it," Etho says, and Cleo can't help but laugh themselves.

"This is why you're my favorite," Cleo says, and they think maybe this will work out okay, after all.

#secret life smp #trafficshipping #hermitshipping #a bee fic #cletho #zombiecleo #ethoslab #yeah this one is ALSO pretty overtly shipping even though it’s also overtly aromantic #idk man. definitions are blurry. lines are blurry. I’d call this shipping even if it’s not about being in love.#anyway. bi aro cleo is a headcanon I’m increasingly attached to so I thought I’d write this for yall.#don’t know how to explain it more than. I think it suits them.#I know this is out of my wheelhouse but I felt like I wanted it out there yeah?#anyway I’LL GO BACK TO THE FANON SWAP PROMPTS SOON JUST NEEDED THIS WRITTEN FIRST

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jq37 · 5 months

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Who Is Allison Moore?: A Disney's Wish Mystery

OK, this is a little off the rails and random but this has been driving me crazy since I looked into it last night.

So, Disney's 100th Anniversary movie Wish is coming out soon and people have had a lot of hot takes about it so I wanted to do some digging. As part of that, I looked at the writers and two people have a "Screenplay by" credit: Jennifer Lee and Allison Moore.

Jennifer Lee, of course, wrote Frozen--their biggest princess hit in the modern era so that makes total sense to me. If you're coming out with a new princess movie for the big centennial of course you'd tap her. But I'd never heard of Allison, and when you look at her name on Wikipedia:

No blue link. So I headed to IMDB to check out her credits, figuring maybe she was some hot new talent recently promoted from within who did storyboards on some recent projects like Moana or something. But when I went to her IMDB page, this is what I found (after a brief mix-up with a Dexter's Lab actress):

Her Producer credits come up first and...huh. That's a lot of adult live action TV projects. Well, maybe her Writing credits are where this starts to make sense:

What? That can't be right, can it? The only vaguely Disney-esque thing on that credit list is Beauty and the Beast and, to be clear, that is a CW reboot of a 1987 procedural with the logline, "A beautiful detective falls in love with an ex-soldier who goes into hiding from the secret government organization that turned him into a mechanically charged beast." And she wrote two episodes on it.

And look at Disney's official page about Wish!

Everyone else on this page has credits that make sense--Frozen, Frozen 2, Raya, Encanto. And the two credits they list for Allison?

Night Sky and Manhunt.

Night Sky, an Amazon Prime show that she wrote one episode for and was cancelled after one season. And Manhunt--and show about hunting the UNABOMBER--that ran for two seasons and that she wrote two episodes for. Those are her two credits that they put up there next to Frozen and Encanto.

I have been scouring the internet trying to figure out who this woman is and how she got this job and I have come up *empty*. This is the big 100th anniversary movie! Why would they have one of the two screenplay writers be someone who seemingly has never done something like this before??? Like, I understand that not having done something before doesn't mean you can't do a good job, but it usually means you don't get the keys to the biggest most anticipated projects in the company's history!

They presumably could have gotten anyone they wanted for this and they picked this person and I have zero clue why and it's driving me crazy. If anyone has ANY information that could illuminate this at ALL--an interview, a social media post, gossip from your cousin who's a gofer at Disney--please let me know because I feel like I'm going full Pepe Silvia over this.

12/26 Edit: A SMALL UPDATE IS HERE!

#disney's wish #wish 2023 #disney #personal #this is separate from my opinions on the movie itself #which I def do have oh boy #but I also just want to know how this happened #how did she get this job?????#she doesn't write for kids or for animation or really for fantasy very much #so why did they hire her???#this doesn't seem like her wheelhouse at all!

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suntails · 7 months

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⚔️👑

#14! silvil sweep!!!!!! finally!!!!!!!!!! ive actually wanted to draw this for them for Ages as an actual picture but iii dont have energy #im not rly a ship art girlie. im a lore art girlie. i like the conceptual stuff i like funky compositions w symbolism #anytime i get into a ship and hafta provide food for it its so HARD. if i ship something all i wanna do is lean into concepts instead grrrr #none of these doodles are ship specific. stating again to be oh so clear. but i did wanna draw this scenario anyways so this is the closest #my scrunklies. silver can improve vils fighting skill. his stance. his form. he can improve at acting in silvers wheelhouse i think its NEA #twst #twisted wonderland #twst silver #vil schoenheit #sry this one is late my friends happened to be in town so we last minute had dinner together. i laughed a lot it was nice #suntails

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shanastoryteller · 6 months

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so you know how I talked about a weakness of mine is that I tend to write tropes that have personally disappointed me from a stance of "well what is a way I would like this"

anyway. so. I read a really good omegaverse fic - a trope I tend to avoid unless I'm really desperate for content - which then led to me reading several more omegaverse fics that were bad to worse with a sprinkling of really quite good

so now I have an outline for an omegaverse avengers fic

you either die a hero or live long enough to see yourself become the villain

#to be clear i have nothing against omegaverse beyond that i tend to hate them #but personal taste doesn't mean anything to anyone beyond the person who has it #this is just so far out of my usual wheelhouse that im staring at myself head tilted like a dog #this is your grandma talking

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assbestos · 2 months

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so sick and twisted that vampires aren’t real because if vampires were real I wouldn’t have any more problems. mostly because I would be having gay vampire sex all night. and sleeping during the day. because id be a vampire.

#apologies for this being outside of my typical wheelhouse #vampire #vampirism

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royalarchivist · 4 months

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Ramon: we need to find Cucurucho again

Fit: Yeah, that's really weird that he was just watching us -

Ramon: so Pac can adopt me

Fit: Oh yeah– Well, you know– I mean, maybe we can like– Maybe we can have it arranged where if Pac gives you a cookie, it counts for the full amount instead of half. And then maybe the same for me for Richarlyson. Right? 'Cuz I mean, like– We're... basically a family. I mean we have– I mean, let's be real, we have been for a while, but it just a little bit– it's just a little more official now.

Ramon: yeah but Pac wanted to throw a big party

Fit: Oh, a big party?

Ramon: adoption party

[ Transcript Continued ↓ ]

Fit: Oh, an adoption party. Ohhhhhhhhh, I see. Yeah, well– I won't interfere with those plans then. Yeah, well I guess– um. It'll be a party for you, and then I guess it'll be a party for Richarlyson as well. Yeah, that'll be cool, that'll be cool Ramon. Are you- are you excited?

Ramon: [Nods]

Fit: [Laughs] I'm glad.

Ramon: Two dads

Fit: Yeah, that's right. Yeah, instead of just one!

Ramon: i appreciate u a lot >:(

Fit: Aww, Ramon, I kn– And I appreciate you too, Ramon.

Ramon: [Ramon bounces around happily, then gets shy / embarrassed and hides in the corner of the room]

Fit: [Laughs] I know, Ramon. It makes me happy, seeing like– You– you seem like you've been in a better mood the past, you know, couple weeks, especially with everything that's been happening. You seem like you're in a better mood. Yeah, I'm glad, I'm glad, Ramon. I'm glad.

#Ramon #FitMC #QSMP #Hideduo #FitPac #Fit #January 10 2024 #FitMC for the love of god please get something for your mic that helps with the pops #I COULD probably fix that but it's not in my wheelhouse so I can't be bothered #Other audio stuff? Sure #This specific thing? ehhhh #I should probably look that up sometime but it's not usually too much of an issue #It's just Fit's mic #Anyways. This was a cute conversation. I probably didn't need to subtitle it but I edited it down since there were pauses as Ramon was typi #and I just kinda. Did it automatically for a few sentences and went ''oh what the heck'' and kept going #I'll try and do the other multiple POV edits now but might not have that done by tonight #I'm procrastinating on something for work because it's stressing me out. lol.#Edited #Subtitles

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dinoserious · 11 months

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sketchpage comm for @aspenshadow hehe

#anthro #lizard #lizardfolk #eyes #teeth #sketch page #commission #body horror cw #i was given a pretty free roam of the mutations which was interesting to work with as its not my usual wheelhouse #when in doubt. lots of teeth

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cthulhusstepmom · 10 months

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Hobbits are attracted to soft things, Dwarves are attracted to opulence.

It was the talk of the Shire when the last Baggins ran off on an adventure, presumed dead of course, those adventures are nasty, deadly things; even more so when he popped up again, a rather large, rather wild looking fellow at his side. He'd not been home for long before talks of a wedding started circulating. And of course there's no talk for polite society quite like wedding talk. It was even more a surprise when, confronted about the rumors on one screechy morning by a Lobelia Sackville-Baggins, he quite gleefully announced that it wouldn't be to a Hobbit at all but to a dwarf of all people. The dwarf that had taken to following Mister Baggins everywhere, Dwalin they called him, had let loose a rather frightening, growly laugh at the shock on all their faces. Poor Miss Sackville-Baggins had to be carried down the hill after she fainted the poor dear. They were told to sit tight and be patient, that they would get their fill of ogling soon enough. In the meantime all of the Shire was alive with the joyous occasion of wedding preparation. Because if there is one thing that Hobbits love more than Mushrooms it is celebrating. And a wedding of any kind is as good of an excuse as any.

A quiet catching worry of having so many dwarves about does spread through many of the older, more respectable hobbits. They're just so very different is all, especially if they're anything like Mister Dwalin; who is a great help when it comes to lifting heavy things but is truly terrifying when he's had a bit much to drink as he's fond of heavy handed cuddles and the hobbits are a fragile folk that bruise quite easily.

So is it any wonder that mutters and murmurs chase up and down the hill when the wedding party arrives for one Mister Bilbo Baggins and the good folk of Hobbiton get a look at his groom?

At first glance he was a very comely fellow, round and jolly with a smile that could make up for the beard. And then he was introduced as one Master Bombur, one of the Groomsmen. The good hobbits of the Shire were quite quietly appalled when Mister Baggins introduced his Fiance to them. A Master Thorin Oakenshield Son of Thrain Son of Thror; a rugged dwarf with far too many angles and tangles and hard lines and edges, covered from head to toe in lean muscle that had a great many hobbits doubting Mister Baggins skills as a homemaker. He was grumpy whenever he was parted from his fiance and moody at the best of times. There was nothing soft about him, which it is common knowledge to be that which Hobbits prize most dearly in a partner. And, in the opinions of the Hobbiton high society, one of the singularly most unpleasant and unattractive individuals in the entirety of Middle Earth.

Though he did briefly salvage their good opinion when he thoroughly and succinctly put at least a temporary end to the screeching of Lobelia Sackville-Baggins by glowering at her so hard she was, for the first and probably the last time in her life, struck dumb.

As the wedding grew closer the murmurs grew more frantic, was Mister Baggins really intent to tie himself to this unpleasant dwarf? He was certainly eccentric but he's a kind fellow and the hobbits of Hobbiton surely did not wish to see him miserable. Such murmurs persisted until the time they were overheard by the rather overzealous nephews of the dwarf in question and were silenced with enthusiastic prejudice. So the Hobbits worried. Privately. And quietly. (No one was going to be the first to find out if the young dwarves really would skewer them like shish kabobs and leave them to dry in the sun.)

Until the day of the wedding.

Gathered in a discontented crowd the hobbits of the Shire watched on as the glowering dwarf stood watching for his husband to be, barely paying any heed to the officiant. (To be fair Old Took was paying him about the same amount of mind, distracted he was rattling off tales of Tooks past). And then, when Bilbo entered, something remarkable happened.

The Dwarf softened.

Icy steel eyes melted into warm springs, tense shoulders settled open and loose, clenched fists relaxed, subconsciously reaching forward just the slightest bit.

That day, that dwarf was the softest of any seen before or seen since to this very day. And every single Hobbit in the Shire was jealous of one Bilbo Baggins and his beautiful soft dwarf.

#except of course Lobelia Sackville-Baggins who declined to attend though ask any Brandybuck or Proudfokt and theyll tell you she was there #they have two weddings one in the shire and one under the mountain #a little bit out of my usual wheelhouse but the dormant brainworms were stirring #bagginshield #bilbo baggins #thorin oakenshield #bagginshield wedding #the hobbit

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