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insuke69 · 2 days

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What's in a name? P3

✰⁂ Hobie brown × Rich!Osborn!reader

Part I, Part II, Part III

3/3

Synopsis: Osborn is almost a disgusting name because of the messed up things it has and the dirty money that holds it up by threads. And here is the child that sneaks out one night and meets a punk that goes directly against her father.

✩Warnings: cussing, Some angst, 'crybaby' reader, depictions of smut, ‘tantrum’

Rated 13+(??)

✰6.5k words.

⚥Afab/fem reader

____________________

The last month has been.. Blissful.

Relaxing and calm for you, Hobie making you feel things you’ve never experienced with his tongue, hands, and words.

Something about him as the punk he is almost leveled out your expensive life, humble houseboat compared to your marble mansion. Some nights were spent planning, some were small date-like hangouts, some were spent with his lips locked in yours and his tongue teaching you how kissing should feel.

But you didn’t realize how little he mentioned or even acknowledged (y/n) in your presence. You didn’t know if he was fully alright with everything that went down between you two though. He would stop wearing his spiderpunk mask around you and you’d stop wearing your balaclava which probably- or hopefully meant he still trusted you.

You even started taking more money from your dad and buying even more things to donate with less fear of being caught, you and Hobie would go to large corporations disguised as a cute couple that definitely wouldn’t pocket a particularly enticing trinket.

You kind of feel like robin hood, but instead of stealing actual gold and riches, you spend what's given to you for different purposes, one step at a time. Hobie has shown you the differences between real and fake silver, obviously you know how to tell in your jewelry by seeing its shine, but now he’s explained the more simpler ways and reasonable prices for normal people since way back then you never had to look at the multiple thousands on a cute bracelet.

Your shoebox of polaroid pictures grew and so did your relationship with Hobie. You began learning about your own pleasure along with learning of his, what movements you can do with your tongue or hips that makes him whimper beautifully throughout the bedroom of his small houseboat.

And Hobie hasn’t hesitated with taking his pictures and tucking them into the waistband of your panties for ‘memorabilia’, So now that shoebox consisted of pictures of you and him spray painting, your masked smile posing beside another one of your fathers now vandalized buildings, and some of Hobie’s favorites.

Ones where he’s bottomed out, hips against your plush ass and his hand holding your hair in a make-shift ponytail, the other taking the picture. Another one where you’re looking up at him with your eyes doe and tongue out, his seed stained on your lips and chin. The list goes on and on about the lewd adventures you and Hobie have done. Each picture is more intimate than the last.

___________

The knock on the door makes your chest tense, immediately shoving the pictures and shoebox under your bed and leaning your hips against the mattress, looking over at the door.

Roxanne opens it and comes in with a clipboard in hand, head dipped downwards as she began rambling about another event your father is planning to host in your mansion.

“Alright so, security will be tighter but your father will be making a party to celebrate the new opening of a bank, so you’ll be wearing a mostly green dress and most of the house will be open to guests. Unlikely anyone will come to your room but the housemaid will be sure to clean everything top to bottom, left to right.”

You were practically tuning her out since she often covered this information for every event, the same information.

For every event.

The only difference was that this was going to be held at your house for the first time since your mothers funeral. It was weird but you remembered the procedures: Big guard watching your every move, random people whose gross hands you have to shake, rinse and repeat.

“So when is this thing gonna be?” You ask Roxy with a tilt of your head and sitting on the edge of your bed as she remained in her spot where she stood.

“Soon, around the twenty-second.” She answered without her gaze moving from her clipboard, her pen tapping it in a senseless rhythm which expressed her deep thoughts on the subject, Likely thinking about some things more important than your petty dress or makeup.

“That will be all. Your father will give you his black card so you could buy a dress of your liking. Special event means that-”

“I can’t risk re-wearing something I’ve worn before, yeah yeah.” You cut her off with an eye roll, knowing what she was gonna say.

Roxy raised her eyebrows at this attitude but shrugged it off, “Precisely, you’ll be sent out around the afternoon, let's say at around two-thirty.” And with that, Roxanne nodded and walked right out, leaving the door open on her way out.

You stand from your bed and shut the door, pulling out your phone to text Hobie once the click of the knob confirmed its closed position.

“Im going out later with Normans money” It felt weird to refer to your dad by his first name, but referring to him as your dad didn’t feel right either, and calling him ‘Osborn’ had too much association with you.

“K” Hobie messaged back, “what time”

“I’ll actually have to buy something. A pretty dress so do you wanna tag along for that too?” You smiled to yourself, knowing Hobie wouldn’t really want to be in a fancy dress shop and have to judge each and every dress that's even a shade of green-

“Why not”

You can feel the shrug from past the screen, his usual gesture whenever he says something like ‘why not’. And before you knew it, by the time you ran off from your secret service-like bodyguards, you spotted Hobie.

Not spiderpunk- You spotted the handsome man beneath, face covered in piercings and hair being as lawless as his other punk persona. He grins down at you and offers you his arm and with a mocking tone, says “Alrigh’ M’lady, Where we goin’ first?”

“What are you playing at, Hobie?” You ask as your head shook and your arm intertwined with his, walking down the street towards your usual dress shop you’ve gone to since you were thirteen. No other place was ‘trustworthy’ as your father put it, and you’ve never liked the hassle of exact measurements.

“Whatever could you mean, Ms Osborn?” He grinned, looking around the streets at the peoples heads turning because of some random punk star with the daughter of the richest and most powerful man in the city.

You two were in the main street where more expensive shops were, you had your dads credit card so you couldn’t spend it in the smaller businesses Hobie had shown you in his part of town because they would show up in the statements, or because they didn’t even take card. Hobie felt like a fish out of water when he was walking down these sidewalks with smooth brick tiles instead of cracked pavement for once.

“You know damn well.” You scoffed in response, “Do you seriously want to do dress shopping with me instead of.. Emily?” Your voice lowers as you mentioned your masked persona which makes Hobie chuckle and shake his head.

“Well, I wouldn’t be able to spend time with either. Plus, It doesn’ matter now, Wha’ dresses are we gettin’ you now, princess?” He teased in a lower voice with a stupid smirk as the arm that was intertwined with yours slid to your waist. You could feel your face heat up but you keep your head up and continue walking with him beside you, him walking on the part of the sidewalk closest to the road.

“Fucking hell, just.. Okay so the plan is that I’ll try on dresses and you’ll boost my ego in every one and you’ll tell me which one is the best look for me.” You told him, trying to brush off how he called you princess, how you can swear he knows what he’s doing.

He raised his eyebrows then his hands in a faux surrender gesture, “Yes ma'am.” His voice is smug and it’s as if he’s coming along to humor you.

Your eyes roll and you shake your head, walking beside him with his arm intertwined with yours in a playfully chivalrous manner, as if he wasn’t already polar opposites with you. You seem like an elegant quartz and he was a stone pulled out of a vandalized building. Your height differences making you either unfortnately shorter or him somehow taller.

“Here’s the place, just-” You began, almost getting to the dress parlor but Hobie soon pulled you into an alley right beside the building and kissed you, which made you squeak and your hands moving to his chest.

“What the fuck?!” You asked as you looked up at him and he just smugly grinned and looked down at you, his hands on your waist as you continued, “Anyone could have seen. I would be fucked if anyone saw that, neither of us have a mask and unlike you, if my reputation gets a single mark, that would get my dads attention and-”

He rolled his eyes and kissed you again, as if to stop your worries. “It’s fine, tell me: Do you ever look into alleyways when you’re shopping?” He asks rhetorically to get his point across, most people like you wouldn’t care for smaller details and excuse the alleyways whilst on their errands

“.. What if someone decided to look? We’d be screwed.” You retort, shaking your head, which made Hobie shake his head back with a chuckle.

“You’re paranoid.” He scoffed as he took your hand and brought you back out to the sidewalk and towards the shop you had mentioned.

Hobie brown will be the death of you, but spiderpunk always made you feel alive.

_________

You got the dress and Hobie let you go on your merry way before you got picked up so that you dad’s men wouldn’t see you with anyone.

The event had arrived and like you assumed, random rich womanizers with their trophy wives and laughing as if they owned the world. Well, they practically do, But there's one specific couple that makes you seeth.

Your father has always been family oriented so now that an event is at your house, your uncle and aunt will be coming over to be more heads to count at the party. There's nothing wrong with your uncle Wilson or aunt Doris on paper but it’s the kid they have that makes your blood boil.

The kid is named Elizabeth as if she were a respectable person, but she was barely a freshman in highschool who has as much as you did financially, except she wasn’t homeschooled like you were and her ego was as big as the numbers in her parents bank account. She never grew out of her brat phase and she’s more spoiled than you because if she sees someone with something she wants she asks for it tenfold.

“Oh my god! Where did you get those earrings?” She grinned as she ignored your concept of personal space and reached out to grab the shiny jewelry that hung from your ear.

You pull away from her and awkwardly smile once you avoid her touch, “Your Aunt Emily gave them to me.” You answered with almost exaggerated politeness, referring to your own mother as her aunt because there’s no way she’d remember her as your mom.

“Oh yeah! She’s dead right?” She frowned, “She can’t get me anything like that? Where did she get them? Do you know?” Her tone was laced with disappointment.

You almost froze at her words. You never minded much about who spoke about your mom but the way she said it as if she were simply talking about a show that was canceled.

“..Yeah, Last time we saw each other it was literally her memorial ceremony.” You mumbled with slight snark to which your aunt chimed in a half apology before ushering your cousin away.

“But Mom! Why does she get cool things? I wish I were homeschooled and that my daddy was the president! It’s not fair!” She whined dramatically as she threw her arms around, as if throwing a mini tantrum for her mother.

And you think that's the only time anyone has been understanding of your situation, because your aunt swatted her on the back of her head and began telling her to calm down, and that homeschooling would take away her reputation as the popular girl at school which shut Elizabeth right up.

They fade into the crowd and you stand aside, eating an appetizer of a snack before suddenly a large suited man recognized as your bodyguard approaches you and quietly says into your ear, “Have you allowed Ms. Elizabeth into your bedroom?”

When he says this you decide to play it cool and softly shake your head, placing your hand on his shoulder once he begins walking back towards the hall of your room then stopping him. Walking to your room instead, and once you were out of sight from the party, you bolted up the stairs towards the creaked open bedroom door.

You shove open the door and feel your heart drop, you knew your cousin was snooping around your room but what need did she have to look under the bed?

And in your goddamn shoebox.

“What the hell are you doing?” You yelled as you went over to her and snatched the pictures out of her hands, which she sarcastically surrendered with a dramatic gesture of her hands.

“What are you doing? Actually, who are you doing?” Elizabeth grinned as she held out another picture where it was you on top of Hobie, a loose shirt adorning your torso which luckily hid where he disappeared inside of you.

“Shut up! You’re just- you aren’t even supposed to be in here!” You snatched the picture and quickly shoved it into the shoebox, then the box under your bed.

“I was looking for any extra earrings you could give me, not like you have anyone to look good for other than that rando.” She commented with childish snark as she vaguely gestured in the direction of the intimate box and images. “I didn’t realize you had a little boy toy you’ve kept hidden, Does my uncle know?”

Your eyebrows furrow as she asks if your dad knows about him, About Hobie. You keep your mouth shut and glance away as you struggle to hold in your genuine frustration at how this is how you ended up caught.

“.. Still doesn’t explain why you’re looking under my bed for some earrings.” You change the subject off of Hobie and back to how she’s in the wrong for snooping around your bedroom in the first place.

“You still haven’t told me who this guy is! I’m guessing he’s just some booty call, not even a boyfriend to you?” Ellie said with a smirk, but more in a condescending way as if she were better than you for having some kind of relationship that wasn’t based on sex.

“He isn’t just ‘some booty call’-” You began before the teenager continued, looking over another picture.

“He’s hot though, but too many piercings. Does he have a piercing on his tongue? Can’t see your face well on this one but wow, big hands-” She teased which made you snatch the next polaroid from her hand and your cheeks flush red at what that one was this time.

It showed Hobie’s unruly hair between your thighs, which were being held tightly by his ringed hands to keep them open, his eyes straight up into the camera where you took a picture of him feasting on your core. You’re so grateful she was on the more basic side of popularity where she didn’t know punk stars, Hobie seemed like some random emo to her. Luckily.

You could see on her expression that she had a request and something to say, so you gestured your hand ironically, “Go ahead, take your time. Go ahead.” You prompted sarcastically.

“So, It would suck if your dad found out about this.” Her head tilts, “So, Just give me your earrings. Unless you want your dad finding out you have some other ‘daddy’?”

You cringe at how she referred to Hobie as your other daddy, but your stomach soon drops as you realize that she’s blackmailing you just for a pair of your moms earrings.

Dead Moms Earrings.

“You sadistic bitch!” You cursed as you got closer, about to give her a well deserved slap for her stupid actions, wanting to humble her like she deserved before she stopped you and stepped back.

“Hurt me and I’ll go announce it to the event! Imagine the headlines, ‘Norman Osborn’s daughter caught with a random guy!’, your reputation.” she said with a sarcastic gesture of her hands as she walked towards your door.

“Reputation? Fucking- fine.” You yanked her sleeve to keep her from walking out, soon moving your hands to your ears in order to take off your earrings, “I want you to just.. Take care of the earrings. Please.” You mumbled before passing her the pair of jewelry.

“Whatever.” she shrugged as she looked at the shine of the gold then shoved them in her pocket, “Thank you cousin dearest.” She playfully mocked before walking out of your room, leaving you with your own thoughts and leaving the door open.

You nearly slam the door shut then lean on it with your back, eyes quickly filling with angry tears and hands moving to grip your hair in frustration. At how easily you were manipulated, at how your cousin obviously thought little of you, how she called Hobie a random booty-call.. Familiar feelings erupted in a choked sob from your throat.

Guilt.

Rage.

Frustration.

Your fist tightened and was about to be tossed back to punch any surface you could to relieve what you could but soon you heard a twhip and a sticky white rope soon surrounded your hand and kept it from going anywhere or doing anything.

You sigh once you realize what caused it, and soon that reason walks- or drops in through your window, pulling off his Spiderpunk mask and heading over to you.

“You alrigh’?” Hobie said softly as he got the web off of you and kneeled beside you, his hand on your shoulder.

Hobie knows that when you cry it's never for no reason, He has learned about your sensitive habits but he has never seen you like this. Tearing up with anger he had only seen the night you two argued, and the second you choked another sob and your arms wrapped around him he quickly hugged you back.

You felt safe in his lanky arms, comforted and as if he could shield you from dangers or people that couldn’t ever treat you as a person. He couldn’t ever be just a booty-call because he's the only feeling of ‘home’ you’ve had since before Osborn industries became a bigger thing.

After you didn’t answer his question as if you were alright, Hobie simply held you close and cradled you like how you deserved.

Once your breathing calmed and relaxed, you soon moved your hands to cradle his face and he quickly met your gaze with his, “Was this jus’ an excuse to hug me?” Hobie joked with a chuckle to lighten your mood, soon being met with a swat to the shoulder.

“..My cousin blackmailed me into giving her some earrings, but they used to be my moms.. And she didn’t care.” You explained softly to summarize, pulling back and running a hand through your hair.

“Blackmailed? That’s.. That’s dumb, what was she using against you?” Hobie asked as he rested his hands on your waist and looked down at you.

“Your pictures.” You scoffed as your hands lowered to his chest, nodding your head towards the shoebox where the picture of Hobie with his head between your legs was faced up. You saw Hobie’s smirk adorn his lips as he looked at the polaroid and bit his lip, making you roll your eyes and softly hit his chest.

“What! What do you mean by my pictures? As far as I’m concerned, all of that was a team effort.” He cooed as his hands lowered to your hips and he pulled you closer where your body flushed against his.

Your arms instinctively wrap around his neck, “You realize that I’m fucked?” You half joke, “She found our pictures, and if she blabs to anyone around here, That will spread like wildfire.”

“Yeah yeah, what if you just stopped worrying? What if I had a solution?” Hobie teased before giving you a peck on the lips.

“Hm?” You question as you kissed him back, “Well, I’ve been fixing my houseboat.. And what if we could sail away together?” Hobie responded smugly.

Your eyebrows raise and you chuckle as if he were joking but his smile remains the same and his eyes gazing into yours. “Seriously? No- I don’t.. I can’t.” you retort with an awkward chuckle, “I don’t have any money without my dad, I wouldn’t be able to contribute.”

“Don’t worry about that, We could run off- spiderpunk can protect another place and you wouldn’t be the daughter of a monster.” He said before kissing you again before you argue and respond. “Think ‘bout it.”

“Hmm.. No.”

As tempting as it was, Seriously tempting, The idea of being able to go away and get out. Be your own person and finally be independent, you couldn’t bear the idea of your dad being heartbroken that you’re gone. He’s a horrible person, a horrible man, But he’s still your father.

And a damn good one.

What he’s done is unforgivable but he always was able to put food on the table for you and never once missed the chance to tell you he loves you. When your mother died it was you and him against the world, even if he was what mostly made up the issues of said world.

Hobie’s expression was like a mixture of confusion and disappointment which makes you sigh and explain yourself with your hands soothing onto his shoulders, “Sorry, It’s just that.. I can’t leave him. He’d be alone without me, and he was already broken when his wife died and no way I’m making him go through everything and worse.”

Hobie smiled at how thoughtful you were, almost too much for your own good.

“Alrigh’, I won’t be able to live with myself if I force you to come with me anyway.” Hobie chuckled before kissing you again, with a softer peck with his lips against yours for a moment.

“Well, okay. I feel like any moment now some random lady’ll knock on your door. You go’a get back to being a princess.” Hobie teased before pulling away from you, soon heading back to the window from which he came in.

“Awh, how will I survive without my knight in shining armor?” You said sarcastically as you followed him, and with a grin he brought you close and kissed your forehead, “You’ll manage.”

And with that, he flopped out and a web shot to a nearby building where he swung.

You watch his figure disappear into the distance and sigh to yourself, taking a breath to mentally prepare yourself and going to your vanity to reapply your makeup that smudged in your earlier ‘tantrum’ as Hobie would tease.

______________

The night breezes by as you stay aside, and thank god it speeds on by as the guests fade away and thankfully all those who are left are your uncle and aunt, and their hellspawn.

Thinking they were in any other place, you go to the kitchen for a snack.

And there was your thirteenth reason.

The hellspawn of satan and the embodiment of one of the seven sins was in your kitchen, sitting on the counter munching on your chips, On your chips you specifically have been saving for a time like this when you were craving them specifically.

She looked over at you before munching loudly on the savory snack, making your blood boil as she seemed to not care she’s eating the snacks you’ve specifically had stored in another part of the kitchen. Clearly implying that they weren’t up for taking.

But before you speak, you notice her wearing the earrings you gave her, her mom obviously knew you didn’t want to give them to her in the first place so how could she just shamelessly wear them?

“Oh, I’m a woman of honor so I won’t need these anymore, they’re heavy and they’re just not my style.” You cousin said as she pushed herself off the counter, with her dusty fingers she removed the earrings and passed them to you, leaving the silver greasy and you’re right about to slap her into the next century until your aunt and uncle walk into the kitchen seeming tense.

Your dad follows behind them, seeming tense as well but his discomfort is much more easily hidden than your aunts.

“We’re going now, say bye to your cousin.” Your aunt said curtly, her hand on Elizabeth's shoulder as your uncle straight up walked out without glancing at you.

“Bye! Good luck.” Your little cousin cooed before leaving with her mom giving you a disappointed glance, then following suit.

“..Dad? What's all that about?” You ask with an awkward laugh that came out more as a nervous outward breath, to which he looked at you and in your hands at the earrings.

“Get those cleaned up from that grease, they were your mothers. At least Elizabeth practically refunded you.” Your dad chuckled dryly before walking past you to the stairs.

Refunded?

Shit.

You place the earrings on the kitchen counter and follow behind him, his objective clearly being to go into your room.

“Wait! Wait- wait, dad, what are you doing? Remember privacy..! Our rule being I can’t go in your room and you can’t go into mine?” You stumbled on your words as you watched him open your door like a man on a mission, You distinctly remember that when you turned around twelve years old and was learning more about what Osborn Industries do, your dad has done his best to make sure you had little to no part in his business, which meant no more ‘office visits’.

He hadn’t been in your room since you took down your My Little Pony posters and stopped using jewelry boxes with music and rotating ballerinas in them.

He abruptly stood next to your door and gestured for you to go in first. His silent order was enough to shut you up and walk in, your father stepping into your room behind you.

“Anything you want to show me?” Norman asked with a tilt of his head, looking at you in a way you don’t think you’ve ever seen happen in your life. You were always a ‘good kid’, meaning you weren’t always caught.

With your answer: Silence, Norman looked away and took a breath with his tongue in his cheek and his hands on his hips. “Take it out.” He ordered, and before you even tried to act dumb in your answer, he repeated himself with a louder tone and pointed towards your bed.

Digging your own grave, you nod and do as he said, going to your bed and taking out the shoebox, placing it at the edge and sitting beside it.

Your dad came closer and sat on the edge of the bed with the box between you two, “So, Do you want to tell me what's in here?” His hand rests on the top of the shoebox and your hands clench into the lace of your dress.

Your dad never was the kind to ask anything unless he already knew, so you really were practically six feet under. If you say no, he’ll make you open the box. If you confess, you have no idea if anything worse will happen.

“..Pictures..” you murmured,

“Pictures of what?”

“Of me and someone.”

At your vague answer, his hand suddenly moved to the side of the shoebox and he pushed it off the bed, the cover falling off and the photos spilling out. He doesn’t look at the pictures at all and instead looks at the wall in the opposite direction away from them.

“Grab a picture where I see who it is.. Try to find nothing inappropriate.” Norman continued, seeming to wait patiently for you to do as he says. Now you feel like you’re being questioned to the point your teeth or fingers are at risk.

You look at the fallen pictures and back at Norman to make sure he's faced away, and look through them, looking for the least incriminating one of Hobie. Tears of dread and humiliation pooling at your eyes as you place it on the bed in front of your father, one where it's simply one of hobie with his neck craned to show hickeys littered on his slim jawline and collarbone.

Norman hums and nods slightly, “Is this that guy you liked? His music was like rock and his name was.. Harry? Henry? something-brown?”

“Punk music, and uhm.. It’s Hobie.” you mumble, you could never go against your father as if you two were like mixing oil and water.

He hums again before speaking with a firm and cold voice, “You aren’t seeing him again, and you’re not allowed out of the house. Roxanne will make your purchases and do your errands, and I’ll hire a twenty-four hour bodyguard.” He then stood as if your heart wasn’t just shattered by how you won’t be able to help anyone anymore, you’re more trapped than you were even before Hobie was in the picture, literally and figuratively.

You stood along with him and gestured your hands frantically, “What!? No! You can’t just-” You yelled before your words suddenly stop the moment you feel a sting on the side of your face, he just slapped you..

“Osborns don’t yell, and we don’t do disgusting activities with a perverted musician who’s only success in life is his ‘lifestyle’ of acting like a worthless punk.” You’ve never heard such venom in words spat from your father, never directed towards you at least.

And with that, he walked out. You felt like you were going to explode with all the anger boiling and frustration bubbling in your chest and when he walked out of your room, you screamed into your pillow and cried your heart out.

You don’t realize how long it’s been when you wake up, sitting up from your bed and looking over your bedroom where the few things that brought you joy were gone and cleaned out. Like your stereo, record player, Vinyl records, and your phone.

You felt tears prickle at the sides of your eyes and wish that this was a dream, that you can wake up to your father still loving you and hopeful that this really wasn’t happening.

About to lay back and cry again, you hear a thump on your window and then a few knocks.

You stand up and head over to your window to find Hobie awkwardly hanging on the wall while gesturing to the wooden frame of the glassed hole in your room.

You see that there's a lock, but a whole ass padlock that requires a key as if your window were the gates to a junkyard.

You shut your eyes and clasp your hands over your face with an exaggerated gentleness, knowing Hobie would break the window if he saw you physically take your frustration out on yourself or anything around you.

But just then your bedroom door flies open with Roxy standing there, staring at you and the punk by your window. You open your mouth to speak but she stops you with a gesture of her hand.

“Your father sent me up here to tell you that you’re no longer allowed out without your bodyguards, tomorrow security cameras will be installed outside your window, and.. I think you can tell what else I was going to say.” Her eyes fell to the window you were standing next to, hardly getting a glimpse of Hobie before he put his mask on. All she could see was just his skin tone and the dim shine of his piercings, “Window is locked with a key he’s trusting me to keep.”

“Roxy, please..” You mumbled as you went to her, tone pleading and genuine, “You know this is worse than before, couldn’t you have told my dad to go easy? This is my first offense, I always was well behaved for hi-”

“You know as much as I do that these are your consequences, I should have never let you go out so many times.” She sighed in disappointment, directed to either you or herself as she continued, “I’m sorry but it's not that it’s your ‘first offense’, it’s the fact that you’ve gone out and behaved like a borderline slut with a man you know your father despises.”

“..The slut comment wasn’t necessary.” You commented as you looked away and crossed your arms over your chest. You knew she wasn’t wrong but this felt like, “This is overkill, dude.”

“Yeah well, say that to your father when he’s back to being able to look you in the eyes.” Roxxanne didn’t even seem to do it either by how she looked at you but not at you.

“Please, Please at least unlock the window so me and ho-” You pause, “me and him can just say goodbye?”

You knew this sounded dramatic but you knew your dad wouldn’t give you the chance to do anything until you were thirty, maybe longer if he keeps denying the fact that you aren’t a little girl anymore.

“You’re just so.. Dammit.” That was the first time you’ve heard Roxy come close to cussing, but you immediately forget that as you watch her take out a keychain from her pocket, you couldn’t help but grin at her singling out the key that opens the padlock of the locked window.

The padlock soon opened with a click, the window sliding open and Roxy stood aside as Spiderpunk crawled in, flopping on the ground and getting up casually with an awkward nod of his head as a greeting to the woman that let him in.

She looked him up and down before back at you, “Keep this quick, if your father finds this out you’re completely on your own.” Roxy said seriously.

“Thank you so fucking much!” You grinned before latching onto her in a hug, to which she loosely embraced you back. “You’re still on thin ice, alright?” She whispered to you before pulling back and patting your shoulders.

Roxy turned back towards the masked punk stood there, getting face to face–as much as she could with him towering over her–And spoke with a hint of threat. “You have no idea what you’re getting into, keep her safe or so help me god Mr. Osborn will know of everything done.”

“Yes ma’am.” Spiderpunk replied with a surrender gesture of his hand, “She’s in good hands.”

And with that, Roxxanne said something about how you two have an hour, keeping things PG, and so forth. Then, she was gone with a shut of the door behind her.

“..Seems like you were found out.” Hobie commented with a dry chuckle, making sure to lock the door before taking off his mask, soon being attacked with a hug by you, your face in his chest and your arms clinging to him tightly.

“It’s worse than before! There's locks on everything and theres- theres gonna be cameras everywhere, my dad managed to make this place hell even more than it already was.” You sobbed into him, making hobie tightly hug you back with his gloved hand cradling the back of your head.

“I’s alright dove, we can figure something ou’-” He gently began, using the tone he often had to whenever you got like this, but cut off by one of your choked sobs and continuing.

“He’s never yelled at me before, He always was patient and talked about things but it’s like I’m not even his daughter anymore! Treating me like some dog on a leash he thinks he can hit and make the leash tighter.”

You felt him tense, soon feeling him nuzzling into the top of your head, “Shh..shh, Wha’s this abou’ him bea’ing you like a dog?” His voice was over exaggeratedly calm, making you tense as well.

“No no no no no hang on,” You quickly back tracked, moving back to wipe your tears and look up at him, “He didn’t beat me I was just exaggerating..! He just slapped me and he didn’t do anything more than that nor would he ever.”

You were practically biting yourself in the ass at how you were defending the man that even you hated, but Hobie wasn’t the type of man to let anyone get away with hurting you, he already had enough reason to hate everything your father stood for.

“That son of a..” He trailed off and turned around, he would have beaten your dad into a pulp if you didn't grab his wrist to turn him around to look at you.

“Hobie, you know that this wouldn’t help if not make things worse.” You said to him while looking into his eyes, his face furrowed and tense in his moment of blind rage, soon, his fisted hands relaxed and he let out a breath before pulling you into another hug.

“Look, you’re my whole world and you know this place isn’ good for you.” He murmured into your soft hair, “Please.. Come wit’ me.”

You weren't able to think if its because of the need to try and go against your own father, or at how he seemed so genuine, but the idea of leaving everything you knew behind was too much. You just had to get the last word.

“Alright, I’ll do it.”

Hobie let out a breathless laugh, pulling back to cradle your face and look into your eyes, “Seriously? You mean tha’?” He beamed before kissing you, you could feel the grin on his lips as you amorously reciprocated.

You giggled and nodded, your hands moving to his chest to look up at him, “Yeah! Yeah, when do we go?”

“Within the next hour, pack whatever you can and- and I’ll get whatever we can sell, yeah?”

And with that, The next moments are a blur, you filling your pillowcase with any clothing you can that wouldn’t get you mugged, and Hobie filling another with everything you’ve bought with blood money. From old too-heavy tiaras, to rings, to necklaces you’ve worn once.

Hobie webbed the pillow cases shut and together, having you hold them while he focused on holding you and web slinging to his houseboat.

__________________________

From then on, You’re known as Emily brown.

Not as the daughter of a monster,

Not as the bratty girl with her life handed to her on a silver platter,

Finally your own person.

__________

YIPPEE

☆ taglist:

@craziblondi

@fodmdk123

@vinxernica

@muffinlovesfiction

@rexlroze

@jane-3043

@coffeeandtealol

@alecmores

@azuurr3

@nyumeit

@noharaaa

@alisoncdariel

@dailyhobiebrown

@malatuadimadre

@banumanus

@ziarah

@i-want-to-be-hit-by-a-car

@citricsapph

@theoriginaluzisimp

#{☆insooks ☆}#insuke #across the spiderverse #hobie brown #insooks rambles #fanfic #spiderman #spider punk #hobie brown fanfiction #hobie brown imagine #hobie brown x reader fic

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inbarfink · 2 years

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I mean, the thing that’s really amazing to me about the Rocky Horror Cult Phenomena is how much it fits with the themes of RHS. Like, Rocky Horror becoming The Midnight Movie and gaining this huge culture of callbacks and cosplay around it wasn’t like something anyone planned for or anything like that - it was a super-unexpected and strage and organically-grown thing and it just amazing how well it resonates with the movie itself. So many movies gain Fandoms that are kinda at Odds with What the Movie is Actually, so it’s really incredible that even with the Rocky Horror Fandom being what it is, it’s also so in-sync with the movie it’s based around in a strange way.

Like, if you actually wanna think seriously about RHS, there are few major lenses of interpetation you can view it through: as a 70′s-style mockery of the 50′s, as a narrative about both the anxiety and thrill that comes with the changing times, as a Garden of Eden allegory starring a weird Reverse-God whose gospel is debauchery... but I think one of the biggest ones for me is how it is obviously a tribute to the experience of watching horror and sci-fi movies late at night - and the way these movies, however silly, can offer a sort of getaway from the restrictive, repressive environment of your everyday life.

Like that is kinda what “Science Fiction/Double Feature” is literally about?

It’s about how much the speaker wants to watch a late-night screenings of science fiction\horror movies. And the verses are peppered with all of these vaugely sexual innuendos, it’s clear that this is at least part of why the speaker wants to go to the late night double feature picture show. Whatever it’s because sci-fi outfits allow for a bit more fanservice than your Regular Movies (”And Flash Gordon was there/In silver underwear”), or cause the thrills of the monsters can become strangely sexual (”And I really got hot\When I saw Janette Scott\Fight a Triffid that spits poison and kills”) or just for some midnight alone-time in the back row...

And in the stage version that line is usually sung by an Usherette character which kinda makes it like... it puts another layer of reality between the audience and the plot. Like, what is seen on stage isn’t a musical abstraction of Brad and Janet’s misadventure but a musical abstraction of the experience of the Usherette (and the cinema audience played by the Actual Audience) watching a horror movie starring Brad and Janet. In the Picture Show, this is replaced with just like... a lot of intentionally kitchy transitions and editing tricks to constantly remind the audience that This Is a Movie. Because regardless of the medium, Rocky Horror is in some way about the Experience of Watching Movies.

And this also comes up when the Criminologist speculates about the nature of reality - it is actually true that life is an illusion and reality is a figment of the imagination, because he is a fictional character in a movie. And Magenta’s verse in “Time Warp”

Like, I suppose literally in-universe she’s talking about her hobby of spying up on people in the castle (like she did to Janet and Rocky in ‘Touch-A-Touch-A-Touch-A-Touch Me’) but like... this is also about being The Audience? Like, the Audience watching the movie are the one who are sitting invisible in ‘another dimension’ and see everything that’s going on... and are being freed by fantasy. (and also it’s important to note that Magenta and the Usherette generally share an actress on stage, and in the Picture Show, share lips but not a voice).

I think you can very easily read Rocky Horror as being About how yeah these old horror movies are cheesy and stupid but they’re also, like, a place of escape from mainstream conservative culture, where you can allow yourself to celeberate the weird and transgressive. Even if it’s kinda bittersweet under the conditions that this transgressiveness always has to come from Monsters and Aliens, and that it was to always Obviously Be Bad, and it must be Defeated and Destroyed at the end - as both the protagonists and the audience must return to the daytime world of normalcy.

Even with Magenta kinda being the Usherette, I think the comperison between Brad and Janet and the Audience is a bit more important. They’re the one who transition from the everyday daylight world of social norms into the late-night world of transgression and release that is Frank’s Fantastic FuckCastle. I mean, that’s why they have so little agency in the plot, they are mostly just sitting back and watching the events unfold. That’s also why Brad seems to have adapted the “Dr. Frank N. Furter did nothing wrong” position by the movie’s climax (”What’s his crime?”). It’s kinda like he’s not really viewing him as a real life person within his own reality, but like a fictional villain. Which is also how Frank views himself - as we can see at the end of “I’m Going Home”. From an in-universe perspective, it seems like a delusion. but from our perspective he is 100% correct. There IS an audience of people watching that entire show unfurl and cheering for him.

Basically yes I am saying Frank N. Furter is himself’s, Brand and Janet’s Problematic Fave

And then when Frank dies and the Servant Duo beams back to their home planet, it’s explictly not a triumphant moment. It’s not a moment of heroism or any sort of moral victory for normalcy over transgressivism. Like, Frank and Riff-Raff share a lot of the same rotten personality flaws - it’s just that Frank is confident and flamboyant about them while Riff-Raff is resentful and self-loathing. That’s part of why Columbia and Rocky had to die, to drive home the fact that Riff-Raff isn’t doing any of this out of concern for Frank’s victims or even really to go home. It’s purely about his own personal beef. And for Brad and Janet, the ending is really melancholy due to the way they have been stranded back in the ‘real world’. All of the strange characters are either dead or gone, the setting itself literally beamed off the planet. They’ve been changed by their experience, but now they’re back in this daylight world that they escaped from. Cause in the end, the Science Fiction Double Feature always ends.

And you’ve got all of this, and then you look at Rocky Horror The Cultural Phenomena and it’s like....... it became like the ultimate encapsulation of what it was tributing to begin with. The Rocky Horror Picture Show is THE late-night science fiction/horror movie event. Midnight Screenings carry this movie and this movie is iconic to Midnight Screenings. And it’s this place that allows you an escape from normalcy and a space to be transgressive - through shouting sexual and\or dark jokes along with everyone else in the movie theater and through being a space for experimenting with gender presentation and\or sexually provocative outfits....It really just became the extremely concentrated version of the experience it was trying to convey in the first place.

And the whole Audience Participation and Shadowcast phenomena really works to enchance the movie’s film of nonreality, which is I think Important to it. Like you know, when you’re sitting in a very rowdy movie theatre shouting profanities at the screen while a bunch of friends mimic the actors’ actions with a few cardboard props because they’ve seen the movie so many times they know them by heart - the murder and the cannibalism seems more and more unreal by emphasizing how much it’s Performance. But “Don’t Dream It, Be It” - already an in-universe Performance by the one character who knows there’s an Audience, feels just as real as ever.

And it just, it FITS SO WELL TOGETHER, it’s amazing none of this was intentional or even predicted. It’s really just beautifully poetic that this fandom happened.

#rocky horror picture show #rocky horror show #rocky horror

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ijuststareatstuffhereok89 · 1 year

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drabble idea: Loki coming in when you’re completely booked & busy & stressed, and placing your coffee order on your desk. Only thing is you don’t remember ever telling him your order 🥹🫠

“Coffee, Black”

Summary: In the midst of the busiest time of the year for work, a little kindness goes a long way, even when coming from unexpected places.

Pairing: Loki x F!Reader Content Warning: none, just some fluff Word Count: 1.5k

“Yes, dammit, I said the GOLD napkins! Stark says silver is tacky! No, I don’t know what tacky means! Do I look like Karamo Brown??”

You could barely understand English anymore. Tony Stark had set you on the warpath when his usual head event planner went into early labor and had to extend her maternity leave, leaving you, the underling, suddenly in charge of the Stark annual fundraiser’s gala. For days upon days now, you were rushing to finalize details for the big event, only thirty-six hours away now.

You were normally a decent party planner, at least for small events like parties and showers. This was the Stark Gala. Celebrities would be there. Steve Rogers had made himself nearly sick, practicing for weeks what to say when he met Chris Evans. Rumor was that Tom Holland was planning to propose to Zendaya on the balcony and then announce it to the ballroom. The Stark Gala was THE place to be in the US every year, which meant that every year, Tony had to outdo himself somehow.

And now it’s complete success or failure was contingent on you, whose biggest achievement only your resume was how you’d planned the Greater Scranton Area Dog Show in a week. You couldn’t even get the napkin colors right.

“Well, I’m sure the richest man on the fucking continent could afford a five-hundred-dollar upcharge for the gold ones! I mean, please!”

The person on the other end of the line was beginning to sound like the teacher from Peanuts. Meanwhile, you were vaguely conscious of the hapless assistant Tony gave you as an aid, although he was hardly ‘aiding’ you, so much as asking you how to do even the simplest things, only adding to the chaos swimming around you. His name was Rolf Schmedike, but you’d quickly shortened his name to ‘Schmeds” to save time, even if he did protest, saying it sounded like an STD.

“Um, Y/N?”

“Yeah, Schmeds?”

He rolled his eyes. “What do you want me to do about the coffee bar?”

“No. Damn. Coffee. Bar.” you repeated for the third time that day. “Tony wants full table service throughout the night. He says open bars are classless. No bars. No buffets. No problems, okay?”

“Yeah, fine.” He said dimly before leaving you alone in the office. You growled after him, annoyed.

Back on the phone, the napkin people had put you on hold. You put your phone back on the hook, a loud, metallic, vaguely-annoying big band tune coming over the speakers now, making you cringe.

Maybe I can find those wine invoices before Schmeds bothers me again about which knife goes where on the table settings…

Too late, you thought as you heard the soft steps re-enter the room. You didn’t bother turning around, this time just yelling over your shoulder, “Chrissake, Schmeds, do I have to speak in tongues to you? NO COFFEE BARS!”

Hearing no replies from him, you sighed in relief as you thumbed through a drawer, finding several bills and invoices, extracting them, and then putting them on the desk to roll around in later, when the inevitable mental breakdown hit in approximately two minutes. You reached over to where your large, black coffee sat by the phone, fresh and piping hot, quickly picking it up and taking a precious sip of the hot liquid, letting its warmth revitalize you before putting it down and turning back to the file cabinet.

Wait a damn minute…

You hadn’t gotten coffee this morning. You’d been too busy.

You paused, gaslighting yourself and trying to pinpoint the moment your mind obviously blocked out: when you’d ordered something, because you’d just absentmindedly taken a sip of your usual, perfectly brewed the specific way you liked it. Oh my god, I’m going insane already…

“I do hope I was correct in recalling that you liked it that way. Flavored salted caramel, nothing else in it, specifically from that little bodega on fifty-ninth street.”

You finally noticed that it wasn’t Schmeds in the doorway, but Loki. Your cheeks immediately went hot as you looked down submissively, a little flustered at the grinning god leaning in your doorway, looking proud of himself. For the most part, the administrators in Stark Tower who’d trained you had insisted that fraternizing with the Avengers was off-limits. They were superheroes! Why would they have any time for “the little people”?

“It…you were,” was all you managed to say softly.

Loki smiled, taking that as his signal to come inside. “I apologize for startling you. I assure you, I meant no harm.”

“No harm? This is exactly how I like it,” you said, picking up the cup and taking another sip, being sure to savor the hot, life-sustaining drink this time. “But…I always get my own. How did you--?”

Your new friend grinned wider, mischievously, and you took a reflexive step back. “You read my mind? Without asking?”

Loki pursed his lips playfully, observing how you looked half-apprehensive, half-turned on. “Oh, I get the feeling that if I were to do such a thing, it wouldn’t exactly be visions of hot coffee in your mind right now.”

Woooooord.

You were never able to observe the Avengers close-up, other than Tony, your boss, and occasionally Bruce Banner, who preferred handing you different documents to be filed himself. Loki was the first one of the team who’d given you the pleasure of his direct attention, and it was already becoming a pleasure. You were already drinking in how tight his suit was, how his hair was beautifully tousled about his face, how his teeth were a work of supernatural art.

And he’d brought you coffee.

“I…well…uh…”

“Perhaps we could start with a ‘thank you’?” he suggested. “You seem to be slightly at a loss for words, dear.”

You nodded quickly, taking another sip. “Thank you, Mr. Lau--Laufeys--”

He shook his head and put a hand up. “Loki is all I require.”

You finally mustered a smile and grateful nod. “Thank you, Loki.”

“And for your information, as much as I would love to penetrate your mind and fill it with tempting thoughts of myself, I did not read your mind without your permission,” he explained. “Your underling out there…the little man…he let it slip in conversation.”

You wanted to know why your drink preferences were the topic of discussion around the water cooler without your knowledge, but it was so easy to be distracted again as Loki closed the gap between you, eventually leaving a few mere inches between you.

“Why would you care about me and my coffee?” you asked. “We’ve never met.”

Loki shrugged. “Sometimes even I can’t explain my madness,” he mused with a wink. “Or perhaps I had a motive in mind that only you could satisfy.”

You felt your cheeks go hot as you looked into his eyes. “Um…uh…and that is…?”

“My brother is going to this gala event with that scientist he is so fond of, Jane,” Loki explained. “The others all have escorts, and Stark doesn’t want me to be the only one unspoken for at the event. He said something about rich bastards liking symmetry.”

You giggled. “That sounds like him.”

“Therefore, consider the drink an offering,” he continued. “Out of all of the eligible people in these offices, you’re the only one who is worthy of my arm, so would you give me the privilege of being my companion to the soiree tomorrow?”

You smiled warmly. “Well, while I still have no idea why you;ve set your sights on me, I suppose I could indulge you for one evening.”

Loki smiled, this time bringing up a hand, as if to place it on your cheek, but he stopped himself, stepping back instead, leaving you slightly disappointed. “Perhaps I should save the best for later,” he said, turning to go. “I’ll leave you to your work now, but I will be here at 6 tomorrow evening if you can be ready then.”

You nodded. “Yes, Mr….Loki.”

Loki purred. “Mr. Loki,” he chuckled. “Perhaps I’ll let you call me that in bed one day…” he said before smoothly making his exit.

Taking another sip of coffee, your mind immediately switched gears. Work? Work?! What was this ‘work’??

The hold music cut off, and the static dregs of a woman’s voice replaced it. “Hello? Hello?” You mindlessly picked up the receiver and hung up, ending the call.

Who had time for napkins? You had a dress to find!

@lokischambermaid @lokisgoodgirl @mischief2sarawr @holdmytesseract @fictive-sl0th @mochie85 @joyful-enchantress @silverfire475 @trickster-maiden

#loki #fanfiction #loki x reader #loki laufeyson #loki fluff #loki fanfic #fanfic drabble #mcu drabble #the avengers fic

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angelprinz · 6 months

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hi it’s degen anon

cai has been too much i swear, im currently getting divorced from my husband childe it’s a lot 🥹 but hope you like!!!

childe really doesn’t understand like women thinking they’re better than him? like he’s not a messy gymnast or whatever you call it but he just feels like he better than most people women included, i mean his bloodlust started when he would get his ass handed to him by skirk. but that’s besides the point he loves strong women but the best thing about strong women is making them weak. psychologically, mentally emotionally he is versed i all forms of battle so no matter what era or even area he loves to find strong women and take them down a peg.

21st century girlboss business woman? did you mean barefoot wife with 6 kids? sick ass sword wielding hero whose slain dragons? you mean that witch who is now in the safe hands of childe her husband? he really has done it all, but once he does it it’s boring? but you were different.

it’s not like you really had anything going for yourself, a broke college student who works to barely make enough to stay on campus. he never thought of you for a second until he spoke to you. he wasn’t even trying but as you rung his cigarettes through the register you were very nervous and anxious but that could be normal. he obviously knows he’s attractive but the fact that you wouldn’t make eye contact was surprising, you passed him the bag and looked away immediately. so cute. it’s almost like you wanted him to get to know you (he’s delusional.)

he had a plan for you but it was going to be way easier, well it would’ve been if you just admitted you liked him. he works at your school because he knows your daddy issues leave you with no parental figures to tell you not to trust him. you’re obviously not the smartest cause your you use a very similar email to your school one for your little sites. he’s practically giving what you want on a silver platter but here you are actually doing schoolwork? (if you fail his class you have to do another year.) he sees you come into his office after hours thinking you’re going to give him favours under the desk for a passing grade, but you’re just here to ask about something on the exam??? he thinks that maybe he’s looking to much into it, it’s been months and he legitimately got a teaching degree for this but what if you just liked to read some taboo things online.

but one day you were very cocky, you posted on a site with little to know information about yourself but a picture of yourself in a skirt. you explained that you would be on a bus around 11pm coming back from work and if someone assaulted you you’d let them. well thats not fun because he likes a fight then he realizes that everyone has a limit.

you left the bus with a sigh thinking that no one saw your message. you felt a breeze but then it was just someone passing by. maybe the website didn’t have that many people in your area? you walk past two building and in between them someone emerged, it was dark but they were also wearing black. almost instantly you felt their chest press up against your back, you let out the air from your lungs as the happiness turned sour as you felt a knife against your neck. it’s almost 12 now and you two were the only people on the street so him dragging you to the alley went unnoticed. cold sweat down you body as you felt exhilarated at the feeling, his large hands roamed your body as they traveled down to your panties. you had specific information about what you’d be wearing, including panties with an opening. you heard the man behind you sigh as he spoke your name. all the hairs on your body stood up as he tsked you and said he had a seminar about internet safety that you should’ve been paying attention if you didn’t sleep during the class.

he knows what you’re thinking now, his crime psych class really did talk prominently about one time attacks. most times if you knew anything about your attacker, you’re dying. no matter how small, even the colour of their hair. but here you are, you were in his office last week so you know everything. it’s almost winter but your body was cold. the entire time he was inside you it really warmed him up with how your cunt felt. hours passed and he finished for a third time on your thighs, he enjoyed cumming inside but the first two loads left nothing left to cum inside.

your scared look, the small whispered moans were all worth it but what was the best was the silence after. he fixed himself as he really didn’t take off any of your clothes, he gives you props for easy access but the moment his hands left your body he was shocked. you grabbed at him, tears in your eyes he almost felt an emotion but what really did it for him is what you said. ‘more.’ he thought it was just lust but that wasn’t it, the shame in your eyes, the way your thighs squeezed together. he couldn’t believe it, sure the women he did this to, made them understand how little they were to him was more demoralizing for him but for you it only fuelled you. he couldn’t believe after he left you the next day you were completely normal but your search history was just filled with ginger professor assaults college girl, like he just assaulted you? why not ask? (you have social anxiety and can’t even ask for extra dips at mcdonald’s.) you were like a pandora for him and that’s what made him stay with you for a while.

(this devolved way to much at the end lmao, i think of myself most of the time i write these. he could literally be inside me one day and i’d still be nervous to talk to him 😭😭)

me when i put on my glasses to read it (i'm quite literally incel taru irl) and degen anon you sound like the cutest little victim on earth i'm going to eat you whole.

i need him so much i need him to make me into his housewife & take away all thinking privileges & make my permanent job being his toy.

#laven_talks #degen anon <3 #tw. dark content #childe <3 #childe smut

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crusherthedoctor · 1 month

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I like how Sonic 06’s defenders and their arguments never conform or line up with one another, like each of them has a different interpretation and headcanon to the game’s plot and characters.

Some say the Time Travel works in X way, others say it works in Y way, and so on, even though it’s never outright stated in the game any of this, and their own theories have their share of inconsistencies and holes with what the game shows us. Then there are the ones who say Mephiles is a 400 IQ villain whose actions were all according to his masterful and sadistic plan (despite all the other characters becoming fucking dumbass for all the ass plot to happen), and there are ones who says he’s supposed to be a dumbass and a coward, even though Eggman in the end props him up like a master manipulator who trolled them all, so I’m not exactly sure if the game confirms this view.

There is never a consensus on what exactly is the case on these things and it’s so funny to me. Maybe someone could say that because the story is so complex, deep and masterful, one could draw many interpretations from it. Like, yeah, it’s totally not because everything in the story is poorly explained, established, shown and executed, making everyone have the chance to fill in the gaps with any kind of bullshit the game shows and establishes or even what it doesn’t show and establishes lol.

Surge might have dethroned him as my least favourite Sonic villain of all time (funny how it didn't really take that much effort beyond simply being as annoying as possible for my tastes...), but Leslie the Dark is still a shoddy result who similarly did not earn his fandom acclaim. Much like how my personal distaste for Frontiers doesn't mean I'm suddenly going to start fawning over '06, or any other game I consider too flawed to consider good in the unironic sense.

You can tell Mephiles was set up to be the ultimate mastermind, and that him failing to line up with that role was not intentional. Notice you'll get fans gushing over how brilliant he is, but once you point out the issues with him, then they'll switch gears and act as though his flaws were deliberately woven into his portrayal. Either that, or that you can't expect perfection from a Sonic story (which is hilarious since most fans make a big deal about how they care more about the story than the gameplay, to the point of excusing certain installments of their non-nitpick shortcomings if they find the story to be halfway decent). It's no different to claiming Scourge was always meant to be a parody, despite how he would frequently be presented as the biggest and baddest threat with no irony whatsoever: it's a lazy excuse to justify bad writing, and very obviously such.

The only reason you could give Mephiles for going out of his way to convince Silver to kill Sonic is that he couldn't do so himself for whatever reason... which goes out the window when he ends up doing the deed himself anyway. It's not like he was too busy either, since up to that point, he spent the rest of his time fooling around with Shadow in ways that didn't really contribute anything to his ultimate plan. Or that he could have teleported all the Chaos Emeralds to his destination from the start, since it turns out he can do that as well, with no reason provided in the game as to why he didn't do so beforehand. While you can write a villain whose indulgements might occasionally drift from their overall scheme, you need to be smart about it, and provide context that doesn't compromise the story's structure.

This is what happens when prioritizing cheap power level thrills overwrites the plotting. To my dismay, this would not be the last time it becomes an issue in a Sonic game. *looks at Frontiers' shortsighted milking of super forms*

The recent push to retcon '06 in general as secretly brilliant is always going to be an example of why I don't take a statement as gospel just because it's a popular one. Yes, '06 does have some moments worthy of praise, and some ideas did have potential, but that doesn't mean the final overall product is actually good. The humans still look uncanny. The world still leans too far into realism for realism's sake. The gameplay remains as broken as ever, and no amount of praise given to Project '06 will change that the original game remains broken. Elise's character being reevaluated and appreciated is nice, but she was still used poorly in the plot. Silver might be powerful, but on top of being made to piggyback off of Shadow's popularity (and the majority of his creative process being little more than "think Trunks"), he was ultimately portrayed as a total idiot, and the way they framed him beating Sonic was just as unearned as Mephiles' kill, and contributed to Sonic's poor treatment in the game as a whole. Do I even need to go on, given what game that nearly killed the franchise we're talking about?

It's frustrating for me because not only can I express fondness for a less than stellar product while also acknowledging its quality with no issue at all (I am fully trained in the ways of Enter the Dragonfly and its lip flapping muppet models), I also happen to love stories that deliberately keep some of the details ambiguous in a way that's satisfying and intriguing instead of coming off as a cop out. So for people to hold up '06 as an example of that offends me lol, especially after so many years of later games being beaten over the head because fans cried up and down about not settling for mediocrity.

So we won't settle for perceived mediocrity, but outright shit is fair game?

#Crusher's Asks #Opinion #Mephiles the Dark #Sonic the Hedgehog 2006

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indigobrushpen · 11 months

Text

pepsi-cola

(More of Felicia! I sort of rushed this, but I hope you still enjoy! Thank you to @moraygrotto, whose prompts inspired this.

Second Person POV; OC x Reader. Ercuto, stuffing, feeder/feedee dynamics.)

Here's how it starts: you're cuddled up together on the couch, watching Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory, and right as Charlie and his grandfather begin to ascend to their inevitable, bloody deaths, Felicia says, "I've always wanted to try that."

"Always wanted to try what," you ask, absentmindedly rubbing her shoulder.

"That," Felicia repeats. "You know. Soda."

You sit up abruptly, pausing the TV. A moment of silence.

"Have you," you begin, trying to find the words. "Have you never had soda before?"

Felicia looks, suddenly, a bit self-conscious. "I- well. Not really. My parents never let me."

There's a lot of things you could say to that. Tease her about her silver-spoon upbringing. Rant about how weird her parents are. You could say ‘huh’ and unpause the movie and let this pass you by.

Obviously, because you’re not an idiot, you say none of that. “You really wanna try?”

“Mm-hmm,” she says primly, and you nearly laugh at the dichotomy of prim, proper Felicia- and how prim and proper she’s going to be after you’re done with this plan.

“Wait here one sec,” you tell her, making your way to the kitchen. The nice thing about being solely responsible for cooking is this- you can have as many secrets as you want.

You open the cupboard next to the oven and pull out a cardboard box from the back- the top is slightly taped and it has the words ‘OLD CUPS’ scrawled onto it with permanent marker. With a triumphant smile, you set it down on the dining table, and call for Felicia.

“Sit down,” you say when she comes in. “Trust me- you’re gonna wanna sit down.”

“What’s in the box?” Felicia asks, sitting down. You can see the way her stomach folds in on itself with the action.

“Soda,” you declare, pulling out a can of Sprite. “It’s my secret stash. I’ve got, like, one of each brand in here. Figured this would be a good place to start.”

“What?”

“Well, you wanna try, right?” You grin, shaking the can playfully. “So here. Let’s try everything.”

“Oh, I couldn’t possibly…” she trails off, watching as you place all the soda cans in a line in front of her- Coke, Nestea, Sprite, Root Beer, three different Crush flavors-

But you can also see the curiosity on her face- the excitement. At the very least- you know she wants to try.

And you very much want to see her try.

“Sure you can,” you say, biting back a smile. “I’m willing. We go on your count, okay?”

Felicia nods, looking ever so slightly nervous. She straightens herself, hands shaking slightly as she reaches for the Sprite can. She cracks it open and flinches at the sudden hiss.

“Ready?” you ask. It’s an easy out- Are you sure you want to do this? We can stop.

Felicia takes a deep breath, squeezes her eyes shut and downs the contents in a long, dainty swig.

You can see the liquid travel down her throat- it makes her throat bob, and her chest rise up and down with every gulp. The funny thing is that she never pulls away- it’s just gulp after gulp after gulp of fizzy soda, and you can tell the fizz surprises her the way she straightens abruptly at the taste. You place a hand on her back to steady her.

Felicia’s head tilts all the way back, the last of the Sprite emptying into her mouth. She pulls away, lips pursed and mouth full of the liquid, a hand on her chest.

You watch, transfixed, as Felicia sets the can down, swallows, and burps.

It takes the both of you by surprise. Felicia’s chest swells and rises with the force of hit, hands over her pudgy midsection.

“BUUUURRRRGGGGHHHHHPPPP!”

When it’s out, she claps a hand over her mouth, eyes wide with mortification.

“‘Scuse me,” she says sheepishly, blushing bright red.

You place your hand between her shoulder blades and give it a few firm pats, snickering. “Easy, champ.”

“Sorry, that just- slipped out,” Felicia says, hands hovering over her mouth. “I didn’t mean to- I didn’t think it’d be so-”

“Yeah, soda tends to do that,” you say wryly, continuing to pat her back. Then you pause. “You okay?”

She nods.

“You up for another?”

Felicia pauses, then to your surprise- nods again.

This time she takes the coke. You hear her gulp it down, slower this time, supported by you steadily patting her back. When she finishes, she gets this funny look on her face. Her cheeks are slightly puffed- but the pressure takes over, and Felicia burps again.

“BHUUUURRRRGGGHHHPPPP! Mmh, ‘scuse me…”

“Just let it out,” you tell her, voice slightly softer, massaging circles on her back. “Otherwise you’ll hurt your stomach.”

“It’s embarrassing, though,” Felicia says, blushing.

“If you wanna stop, we can,” you say. “But it’s just me. You can relax, all right? I’ll look after you.”

Felicia pauses, then says, “I wanna try the orange one.”

She tries the orange one- then the purple one, then the pink one, all immediately after each other. They move down the line of cans, Felicia slowly but surely growing more and more comfortable with it all- the sudden gas, the taste, the fizz.

Then she sets down an empty root beer can, and a loud gurgle rings out in the room.

Felicia glances down at her stomach, which is even more swollen and bloated than usual. It’s gurgling constantly now, and she grimaces with discomfort.

“Felicia?” You look at her, concerned. “You okay?”

“I-” a loud gurgle cuts her off, and she winces with discomfort. “Mmh. Oooh… oh, no-”

“Does your tummy hurt?” you ask, stroking over the swell of her stomach. Her dress is especially tight around her midsection, which probably contributes to her discomfort.

“I- I’m fine, I just- I really need to burp,” Felicia blurts out. She seems humiliated just saying the words.

“Go ahead,” you say encouragingly, continuing to rub her stomach. “It’s okay, just-”

“No, I- I want to,” another agonizing gurgle. “I just- I can’t.”

“You- oh,” you say. “Oh.”

“Can you help?” Felicia asks nervously. “My tummy really hurts and I can feel something stuck in my chest.”

You don’t say anything- you don’t need to. Her stomach gurgles and sloshes with gas and carbonated soda, and you can feel it vibrate against the palm of your hand. You place a hand on the small of her back and press the heel of your palm into the peak of her swollen stomach.

Felicia burps spectacularly.

“BHUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUURRRRGGGHHHHPPP!”

It sounds strained, almost painful, and Felicia winces when it’s over, a dainty hand to her mouth.

“Does that feel better?” you ask, rubbing her back.

Felicia nods- then burps again.

And again.

They’re shorter, bubblier burps- like hiccups, almost, except they tear out of Felicia from the pits of her tummy, and after a few moments of this Felicia gets embarrassed again, and you start to snicker.

“Excuse you,” you chuckle, helping her off the chair. “That soda really did a number on you, huh?”

She giggles, embarrassed. “I’m glad it’s- BHUUURRRGGPP! - ‘scuse me. G-Glad it’s out.”

Later, when you’re back on the couch, Felicia burping and muffling her gas against your shoulder, you patting her back soothingly-

The movie unpauses, and the rest of the scene plays.

A few moments pass. Then you start to laugh.

“Hey, Felicia,” you say, nudging her. “Look! Those guys are like you!”

Felicia groans.

#eructo #burp kink #mini fic #burping #indigofic

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princesssarisa · 24 days

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The Donkeyskin portion of Cinderella Tales from Around the World has brought me to the various Donkeyskin tales from from Germany, Switzerland, and France. These of course include the two most famous variants of this Cinderella subtype: the French Donkeyskin (Peau-d'Ane) by Charles Perrault and the German All-Kinds-of-Fur (Allerleirauh) by the Brothers Grimm.

*The Grimms' version is the one I've always been most familiar with, more so than Perrault's. Just in case someone doesn't know it, I'll give a full summary. At the beginning, the dying queen makes the king promise not to remarry unless he finds a bride as beautiful as she is and with hair as golden as her own; as it turns out, of course, only their daughter fits this description. To try to stave off the wedding, the princess asks her father for gowns that resemble the sun, moon, and stars, and for a fur coat made from the skin of every kind of animal in the kingdom. Despite all odds, her father gives her these gifts, so she hides the three gowns in a nutshell, disguises herself in the fur coat, runs away, and becomes a scullery maid in another king's castle. When three balls take place, the cook permits her to go and watch the dancers for a little while; secretly she puts on each of her fine gowns, attends the balls, dances with the young king, and then hurries back to the kitchen in time to cook the king's favorite bread soup. Each night, she slips a gold trinket into the king's bowl, but when he sends for her to ask about it, she denies knowing where it came from. Finally, on the third night, the king slips a ring onto her finger, and she stays too long at the ball and is forced to put her fur coat back on over her gown rather than changing. When the king sends for her as usual to ask about the gold trinket in his soup, he sees the ring on her finger and tears off her coat to reveal the gown beneath it. Thus they're married and live happily ever after.

**This collection also includes Andrew Lang's version of the tale from The Green Fairy Book, which is bowdlerized so that the princess just runs away to escape from a loveless arranged marriage to one of her father's counselors.

**In the first edition of the Grimms' collection, before the three balls, All-Kinds-of-Fur has to take off the young king's boots every night, and he always throws them at her head. This obviously reflects the common pattern in Donkeyskin tales of the prince/king abusing the princess in her disguise, but the Grimms omitted it from later editions as one of their efforts to make the tales "more moral."

**In their footnotes, the Grimms mention another variant that doesn't include an incestuous father, but instead gives the princess a wicked stepmother and stepsister, who drive her away out of jealousy after a prince chooses her to marry rather than the stepsister. They also mention versions where instead of a fur coat, the princess dresses herself in a coat of moss from the forest.

**One of these days I plan to try a recipe for German bread soup just because of this story!

*Besides the Grimms' version, this book also includes a second German version, called Aschenpüster ("Ash-blower," and clearly related to the common Dutch name for Cinderella, "Assepoester"), and a German-language Swiss version, Aschengrübel. In Aschenpüster, which for the most part is similar to the Grimms' version, the heroine demands dresses of gold, silver, and jewels from her father (who is just a rich lord, not a king), as well as a cloak of crow feathers that becomes her disguise, and a magic wand that can transport her wherever she wants to go. In Aschengrübel, there's no incest theme: the heroine is just an orphan whose parents left her nothing but a beautiful gown, which she hides when she becomes a servant to an aristocratic family. But a mysterious dwarf appears throughout the story and greets her, then vanishes, and in the end he appears with her parents' long-lost will, revealing that they left her a fortune, giving her a suitable dowry for her marriage.

*Perrault's Donkeyskin goes like this, for anyone not familiar with it: The dying queen makes the king promise not to remarry unless he finds a bride more beautiful than herself. Of course no one fits this description except their daughter, and the grief-crazed king insists on marrying her. The princess consults her fairy godmother, the Lilac Fairy, who first urges her to demand gowns that resemble the sky, the moon, and the sun, and then to demand that the king sacrifice his most prized possession, a magic donkey that defecates gold coins, by killing it and giving the princess its skin. Unfortunately, he does all these things, so the fairy gives the princess a magic chest to secretly store her dresses, and urges her to wear the donkey skin as a disguise and run away. The princess obeys, reaches another kingdom, and becomes a scullery maid and animal herder at a farm near the palace. On Sundays and holidays, when she doesn't have to work, she shuts herself in her room and secretly puts on her gowns. One day the prince happens to stop at the farm, and he sees the princess in her sunbeam gown through the keyhole of her room and falls in love with her. But out of respect he doesn't approach her, but goes to ask the farm folk about her, and they insist that there's no princess, only a servant called Donkeyskin. The prince falls gravely ill and insists that only a cake baked by Donkeyskin will cure him. Donkeyskin bakes him his cake, slipping a ring into the batter. After the prince finds the ring, he has every maiden in the land try it on, and of course, it only fits Donkeyskin's finger. The Lilac Fairy them reveals the princess's true heritage, and the prince and princess are married; the princess's father, now sane again and married to another queen, attends the wedding and is forgiven.

**Andrew Lang also bowdlerized this tale in The Grey Fairy Book, by making Donkeyskin the king's adopted daughter, and by having gold coins fall from the donkey's ears instead of the other end.

**In a strange choice, Perrault goes slightly out of his way not to condemn the incestuous father-king. At the beginning, he emphasizes the king's benevolence and his subjects' happiness and love for him, and later frames his attempted incest as madness caused by the loss of his beloved wife. He also seems to want to blame the queen more than her husband: on her deathbed, she insists that the king must remarry to produce a male heir, but secretly she doesn't want him to remarry, so she makes the apparently impossible demand that the new queen be more beautiful than she was. And of course the princess forgives her father in the end, which is far from a universal ending for this tale.

***Of course, Perrault's stories always have at least a hint of satire in them, and maybe he meant for his readers to judge the king more harshly than he pretends to. There's also the fact that in reconciling with her father, Donkeyskin gains solid proof of her royal status, receives appropriate paternal permission to marry, and likely receives a dowry too. This makes her an unquestionably suitable bride for the prince by the standards of the era. In hindsight, this might also explain why Perrault's Cinderella so emphatically forgives her stepfamily, besides "virtue": her status as a daughter of the gentry is what makes her a suitable bride for a prince, so if she cut ties with her family, the king and queen might not accept her so easily.

*Based on the other French variants this book features, Perrault's version seems to be a typical French variant of the tale, although of course it's richer in literary detail than the others. Still, the others feature unique details too.

**The majority of French variants are called Donkeyskin (Peau d'Ane, Peau d'Asne, or Peau d'Anette). The donkey isn't usually a magical one, though (that detail is uniquely Perrault's), and isn't always sacrificed by the king either. In several versions, she buys a donkey after she runs away, then kills it and disguises herself in its skin.

**At least two versions specifically make the heroine's father the king of Spain. I suppose this is because in other European countries, Spain is often treated as the "exotic" land where unusual and exciting things can happen.

**In most of these variants, the king just decides to marry his daughter because she's so beautiful or because she resembles her late mother. But in one version, The King of Spain's Daughter, he resolves to marry only a woman who can wear his late wife's wedding clothes, and they fit no one but his daughter.

**The three gowns are usually themed to the sun, moon, and stars, though sometimes their themes are gold, silver, and jewels. The heroine usually stores them in a chest, but sometimes in nutshells.

**The heroine's love interest is almost always a prince, except in the French Basque Donkeyskin, where he's a king.

**The heroine typically becomes an animal herder – a goose girl, a turkey girl, or a shepherdess – at a royal palace. She doesn't typically attend balls in these French versions, though, but secretly dons her beautiful gowns in a private room or out in nature on her days off from work. One day the prince happens to see her and falls in love. Again, an exception is the French Basque Donkeyskin, which does have the heroine attend three balls. But in that version and the others alike, the prince/young king finally falls ill with longing and requests food made by Donkeyskin. She slips a ring into the cake or bread she makes, and the prince has every maiden try the ring on, but it only fits Donkeyskin's finger.

**The French variants typically don't include the theme of the prince abusing the disguised heroine. Once again, though, the French Basque Donkeyskin is an exception: after the first and second balls, Donkeyskin provokes the young king by saying that the beautiful lady must have disliked him, or she wouldn't have run away, and for this the king beats her with a slipper. At the next ball, the "lady" tells him that her name is "Braf-le-mandoufle" ("Beaten with the slipper").

**One version, The Golden Bull, follows the pattern we saw in some of the Italian versions, and has the heroine hide inside a hollow object (in this case a golden statue of a bull) which is sold to the prince, rather than running away in disguise and becoming a servant. Every night she secretly comes out of the statue and eats the prince's food, until finally she's discovered.

**Peau d'Anette features a second half that resembles The Three Spinners by the Brothers Grimm. To test whether or not the heroine is a suitable wife for the prince, the queen locks her in a room each day to see how well she can spin, knit, cook, and sweep. But four strange-looking people appear – three women and a man – who do the tasks for the heroine on the condition that she invite them to her wedding, which she does in the end.

**As usual, a few versions don't include the incest theme. In one version, the heroine is just a wealthy young woman in love with the prince, who disguises herself and becomes a servant at the castle to be near him. In another, Césarine, the heroine's father loves her, but her mother hates her, which causes strife between them, so she runs away to save their marriage. And in the French Basque Donkeyskin mentioned a few times above, she's neither a princess nor of high birth, but just a castle servant – when robbers steal some of the royal treasure, the king and queen accuse her of the theft, and Snow White-style, they order men to take her into the forest, kill her, and bring back her heart. But the men kill a donkey in her place, give her its skin to disguise herself, and take its heart to the king and queen. She then becomes a goose girl at the castle of a different king, whom she eventually marries, and she regularly meets a mysterious old woman, who gives her walnuts that contain silver and gold dresses, and a peach containing a diamond dress.

**The book also includes another French tale where the heroine is called "Donkeyskin," but which isn't really a Donkeyskin tale, but just a vaguely Cinderella-like story. A merchant's daughter and a rich young man fall in love, but her cruel mother and jealous sisters force her to wear a donkey skin to make her look ugly and drive her sweetheart away, and demand that she pick up a full bushel of barley with her tongue, grain by grain, before she can marry. The donkey skin doesn't dissuade the young man, however, and ants pick up all the barley grains for her.

Next I'll be reading the variants from Spain.

@ariel-seagull-wings, @adarkrainbow, @themousefromfantasyland

#cinderella #donkeyskin #fairy tale #cinderella tales from around the world #heidi ann heiner #germany #switzerland #france #tw: violence #tw: incest

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itsclydebitches · 1 year

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While I wish the show focused on RWBY and get side/secondary characters tf out of the spotlight, I can't help but personally find Jaune more interesting atm. It probably won't happen, but it'd be so interesting to see Jaune return home as he is and face his family. How would his dynamics change with his sisters now that he's the oldest? Is he now older than his own parents? How would they grieve not being able to witness even parts of his life? Would they be proud to know he's "lived up" to the line of warriors, and his parents don't have to wait to see him at his "best?" With the show having tone issues and putting comedy in objectively horrific circumstances, would Jaune jokingly flaunt his new maturity over his sisters? This is idea has so much potential that of course won't get developed or resolved satisfactory, as nothing in this show does. It's not even being done well with the immediately available characters.

Honestly... yeah. While I completely get why many fans dislike Jaune due to his meta problems (and why they might simply dislike him as a character, period) for me the result of giving him so much that should have gone to Ruby means that he's a more well-rounded character and, thus, more interesting to some viewers. Jaune has conflict to engage with. Just off the top of my head:

He's a classic underdog whereas Ruby's prodigy status means she's never really had to improve across the series. Even her one new skill, Silver Eyes, is mastered in a single fight.

Instead, Ruby's problem is that she's younger than her peers which has an impact for... three episodes? Especially since Weiss' issues with Ruby being leader seem to stem entirely from the fact that she wants to be leader, not because she's two years younger.

So Ruby gets a short arc about figuring out how to lead... which is what Jaune goes through too because he's also a leader.

Alongside this, Jaune gets a whole bullying arc that helps develop his character (even if it's pretty simplistic development).

Jaune is the love interest of Pyrrha who spends a ton of time with her whereas Ruby is just the kinda-friend whose relationship exists almost entirely off screen. Seriously, I know we all like to talk about how traumatizing seeing her die was for Ruby (and undoubtedly it was), but her "PYRRHA!" at the Vytal festival is the one friend-y moment I can think of off the top of my head.

Jaune accompanies Ruby on her Cinder quest, ensuring he's there to experience and grapple with everything our protagonist is experiencing and grappling with too.

He gets the armor upgrade and later new gadgets, despite Ruby supposedly being a weapons nerd.

As fans have pointed out in regards to the "Who is responsible for their failed plan?" debate, Jaune gets to come up with a lot of ideas across the series (good and bad) that Ruby then agrees to follow. Ruby was GREAT at coming up with cool combat strategies and plans at the start of the show and now that's all but disappeared.

Jaune has the extreme reaction to learning about Ozpin's secrets. I mean, I hate it, but I can't deny that it's more engaging than Ruby's reassurances that are immediately undermined by Qrow.

Jaune, Ren, and Yang are off LITERALLY FIGHTING SALEM AND NOT SAVING OSCAR'S LIFE while Ruby sits in a mansion drinking tea.

He's the one to kill Penny. Ruby might also have a grief arc this Volume, but that's lessened by the fact that it should have occurred six Volumes go and she only heard about this second-hand. That's a COMPLETELY different scenario from not just seeing the death, but causing it.

Jaune winds up in Ever After and immediately finds the contrived plot device that makes his life - as you've laid out, anon, - that much more interesting.

Ruby has a breakdown about how bad things are and so does Jaune... but to my mind he's got a lot more to complain about with a lot less responsibility too, so it resonates with me more. I mean, I don't really want to compare trauma - Ruby obviously has a LOT to be upset over - but I struggle to hone in on her "I hate having to cheer everyone up!" meltdown when Jaune is there having a "I've been alone for decades and now my village is dead!" meltdown.

And yeah, we can throw in a lot of Ruby specific things too. Sort of. She has Silver Eyes! ... which haven't been very important in the narrative and, you know, Jaune is the descendant of some great huntsmen family with hints that he'll be even more by the series' end. Ruby was targeted for kidnapping! ... once, while Jaune was there helping to defend her, and it's not something she ever reflects on. Ruby is the simple soul destined to save Remnant! ... and Jaune is now the Rusted Knight, a literal fairy tale hero who, as we've been reminded over and over this Volume, everyone in Remnant simply adores.

None of these are new complaints. Jaune gets too much screen time. He gets too much development compared to the girls. He's too perfect despite supposedly being a fuck-up at the start. No one who came to RWBY for the woman-led team focus is happy about this (or about Ozpin-Oscar being at the center of this fight). But the inevitable result of all that - if you can get past your frustration - is that Jaune is simply more interesting in a whole lot of ways. He's developed more across the series and now continues to have more engaging, logical conflicts. Jaune has lived a lifetime in a fairy tale and faces the possibility of returning to Remnant with an insane amount of baggage to overcome, to say nothing of how this would change how everyone interacts with him for the rest of the series. He still has a personal beef against the villains for Pyrrha's death whereas we haven't confirmed that Salem killed Summer, or that Ruby wants to hunt her down for that. Jaune is now falling apart for very legitimate, understandable reasons that none of us really need to nitpick because yeah, who wouldn't have a meltdown about spending decades in this place and then loosing a whole family? Meanwhile, Ruby is... sad about a death that already happened once and also that she "has" to be leader after demanding to be leader. One of these arcs is not like the other!! The fact that Ruby does have interesting things for the story to engage with - the mysterious death of her mother, the potential for her Silver Eyes to be the only thing that could hurt Salem, etc. - doesn't matter because the story isn't writing that. So yeah, hard agree, anon. The story is supposed to be about Ruby, I want it to be about Ruby, but the show continually goes, "Look at this more interesting, more developed, more conflict-laden character over here." Even if RWBY fails to do something good with all that - which inevitably it will - the potential is still more engaging than 99% of what Ruby has had going on since Volume 5.

#rwde #rwby #mymetas

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cantsayidont · 6 months

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June 1964. A month into Batman's "New Look" period, Alfred the butler is dramatically killed off in DETECTIVE COMICS #328. Writer Bill Finger gives Alfred a suitably heroic demise, sacrificing his life to save Batman and Robin from the Tri-State Gang.

Ouch. This is fairly grisly for Silver Age DC, and, more significantly, obviously intended to be final. (If you're going to seemingly kill off a character with the intent of bringing them back later, "crushed to death by tons of rock right in front of their closest friends" is probably not the way to go.)

Two points of interest here: First, the Alfred Foundation, as will be explained later, is the antecedent of what later became the Wayne Foundation (whose building was redesigned in the early 1970s), which did not yet exist at this point. Second, it's awkwardly obvious here that Alfred had never been given a canonical last name. In one 1945 story, he'd used the name "Alfred Beagle," but that hadn't been mentioned again afterward. The name "Pennyworth" was first used in 1969, five years after this story.

Why did editor Julius Schwartz kill off Alfred, who'd been a staple of the Batman strip since 1943? According to Schwartz, it was to help lay to rest the insinuations that had been floating around for years (especially in the wake of Frederic Wertham's SEDUCTION OF THE INNOCENT a decade earlier) that the Wayne household seemed awfully gay. It should be understood that the modern conception of Alfred as a military veteran and one-time badass didn't arise until the 1980s; since his introduction in 1943, Alfred had been primarily a comic relief figure, and generally a bit of a ninny. Schwartz wanted to replace him with a "a sort of chaperoning den mother," which became Dick Grayson's Aunt Harriet, introduced at the end of this story:

Schwartz claimed that he borrowed the name "Aunt Harriet" from the lyrics of the 1929 Hoagy Carmichael standard "Rockin' Chair." Like Alfred, she didn't initially have a last name (the name "Cooper" came from the TV show, and didn't appear in the comics until DETECTIVE COMICS #373). In the comics, she was not as old or quite as matronly as Madge Blake, who played the character on TV; she was perhaps a decade older than Bruce Wayne.

I'm a little skeptical of Schwartz's assertion that his goal in killing off Alfred in favor of Aunt Harriet was to make Bruce and Dick seem less gay. If that was the plan, it wasn't terribly effective: For one, as the TV show demonstrated, her presence in the Wayne household hardly decreased the camp factor, and the principal dynamic of her comics appearances was to have her nosiness constantly threaten to "out" her nephew and his guardian! Moreover, the "New Look" period actually discarded the three recurring female characters who'd previously been positioned as romantic foils (Batwoman/Kathy Kane, Vicki Vale, and Bat-Girl/Betty Kane) — there would be new ones, but they wouldn't appear for a while, nor did Catwoman (who had been absent since 1956 and didn't return to the comics until 1966) — so Schwartz actually cemented Bruce and Dick's "confirmed bachelor" status, at least for a while.

My guess is that Schwartz, who had been given just six months to turn around BATMAN and DETECTIVE COMICS (whose sales were in very bad shape in 1963–1964), figured that killing Alfred would be an easy way to shake things up a bit. As with the yellow oval Carmine Infantino added to Batman's chest emblem, it was a dramatic but largely cosmetic gesture that didn't really alter the direction of the strip in any very meaningful way.

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7grandmel · 4 months

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Todays rip: 21/12/2023

Lifelike Waterway

Season 4 Episode 1 Featured on: FIRST STRIKE ~ SiIvaGunner: King for Another Day Tournament Original Soundtrack VOL. 1

Ripped by l4ureleye

youtube

Every since the year the King for Another Day tournament came to a close, the Christmas season has always brought back memories of it. It was such a huge event, and only really happened to land around the Christmas season due to delays in production, yet it all felt so befitting - the kind of comforting, communal feel of the holidays just fit a tournament of this ilk so well. And while yesterday, with 11 Minutes of City Pop, I wrote about the tournament's beloved silver medalist, today we're going lower down in the ranks - to a combatant many thought went out before he could've shown his true potential.

To say that Cave Story means a lot to me would be an understatement - I alluded to it earlier this month with Whip Fortress, but its a game whose aesthetics and music have stuck with me and thousands of people all over the world for so many years. We all knew Quote would have bangers in the tournament, yet by the time he was up to bat, he'd barely had any arrangements up on the channel to truly show his stuff. That's not to mention the fact that his source list even included other early-2000s indie games, yet...before that could be taken advantage of, the voting was settled and he was out for the count. When his catalogue of arrangements started to finally be rolled out, there was an era of...sorrow, in their comment sections. And Lifelike Waterway was no exception to that - to me back then, it was the moment that it truly sunk in that Quote was down and out.

The dour circumstances of the rip were not something that the team could've ever planned around - the arrangements were obviously made far in advance before the voting actually happened. Yet as also happened with Geno and DEARLY BELOVED..., his loss added a magical form of ambience to the music, a secret spice to turn a chill arrangement into a full-on tribute in his memory. I've talked at length about l4ureleye's ripping prowess on the blog before with rips like Hopes and Divinity+ and SICKO TALE - she has an unparalleled ability to create entire worlds and galaxies in your mind, out of nothing but her sound. From the mashups to the remixes, she's uncontested in the art of lo-fi, music that sounds relaxing yet simultaneously gives off the feeling of venturing into an endlessly-deep cavern. With KFAD, she was able to flex her powers to absurd levels, and if you've been listening along you may already know what I mean.

The original Lifelike Waterway already marked one of the most intense emotional points of Cave Story, yet Lifelike Waterway is able to spin that melody, that soothing yet haunting tune into something else entirely. Its far from a faithful arrangement, yet the new atmosphere it creates is just so...gripping. Its hard to put into words the emotions it makes me feel, yet its palpably a blend of the feelings I still have from Cave Story, and the feelings from Quote's fallout in the tournament - yet, the arrangement doesn't fill me with sadness, either. Its more like...the feeling of taking long, deep breaths. The feeling that everything's going to be okay.

...Look, it's difficult to find many specifics to comment on with an arrangement that's as thorough and all-encompassing as this. All of this is really just to say, that Quote's part played in the tournament really highlighted just how emotionally attached many of us have become to this silly little music project, how SiIvaGunner has brought new emotional meaning to characters they didn't even create - and, most of all, that l4ureleye is a genius.

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the-al-chemist · 1 year

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Artemis Hexley and the Return to the Riddles

Epilogue: December, 1999

A/N: It started with the fireworks, and it ends with them too. Thank you all for sharing this journey with me and Artemis. There’s so much I want to say, so I’ll do some proper author’s notes later. For now, here is the last ever instalment of the Hexley Saga. Warnings: Spoilers for the Harry Potter series.

It was almost midnight. The night sky was black as pitch, but in the darkness stood a higgledy-piggledy house from which light streamed through the windows, and music and laughter reverberated through the air. It was if the merriment inside couldn’t be contained within its walls and had started to spill out into the garden that surrounded it.

A young woman appeared from thin air and walked up the path, her messy dark hair lifting off her shoulders in the gentle breeze. As she reached the front door, her lips curved into a smile, and she bent down to stroke the titian fur of a marmalade coloured cat who sat under the porch.

“Did you not fancy joining in the party?” she whispered, and the cat purred in response. “No. Me neither.”

The door opened to reveal a tall wizard with a heavily scarred but handsome face and long, red hair tied into a ponytail. The woman straightened up to face him, her smile widening further.

“What time do you call this, Artemis?” asked the wizard, smirking at her. She rolled her hazel eyes at him. “We’re about to leave.”

“Leave?” Artemis wrinkled her nose. “Oh, come on, Bill. Who leaves a New Year’s Eve party before midnight?”

“Who arrives at one in the last hour before?”

“Sorry. Ros needed help setting up, and then I went to see my aunt and uncle on the way here. I’d have come sooner if I’d known you’d be leaving this early.”

“Well, we’re not actually leaving, it’s just that everyone’s going up to Stoatshead Hill. Mum doesn’t want George setting off the fireworks close to the house. Can’t say I blame her.” Bill grimaced. “The others will Apparate up there, but obviously Fleur can’t right now.”

Artemis raised her eyebrows. “I’m surprised the others all can right now.”

“Enough of them can. That is the downside of having friends with important jobs and babies.”

“So next year you’ll be boring, too?”

“You are far too sober to accuse me of being boring.”

“For now, anyway,” said a voice from behind Bill, and his brother Charlie squeezed past him to join Artemis on the front step. “Did you find your rowan tree alright?”

“Yeah.”

“How was it?”

“Peaceful.”

“Good,” Charlie smiled good-naturedly and pressed a glass of a burgundy liquid that smelt like marzipan into Artemis’ hands before placing his own into his pockets. “I spoke to Fleur, I thought I’d walk with you. Artemis, you coming?”

Artemis cast a glance inside before nodding her agreement. The party was still loud and bustling, and she wasn’t quite ready to join it. A not insignificant part of her suspected that Charlie knew that.

Once she and the Weasley brothers had been joined by Bill’s wife, whose hat covered her silver-blonde hair and cloak hid the slight swell to her abdomen, the group of four set off up the hill that overlooked the house.

“I cannot wait to be able to Apparate again,” muttered Fleur Weasley, and her husband wrapped his arm around her shoulders. “I ‘ope that these fireworks will be worth this walk.”

“Fireworks are worth any walk,” Artemis said. She tilted her head at the couple. “Anyway, Charlie and I were wondering-”

“You were wondering. Keep me out of it.”

“- what you two were planning on doing about godparents.”

“What do you mean?” Bill asked.

“Well, Charlie thinks you’ll pick him, but I think that’s kind of unfair,” Artemis said, ignoring Charlie’s shaking head. “I mean, he already got to be your best man, and he’s going to be the baby’s uncle. Why should he get to be a godparent as well? You should pick someone who hasn’t already had a turn or is related anyway.”

“So, someone like you.”

“Someone like me, or maybe even actually me. I reckon I’d be good at it.”

“Of course you do,” said Bill. He exchanged glances with the woman at his side, who had drawn a protective arm across her front. “Yeah, we’ll consider that offer. Thanks, Artemis.”

“Nice pitch,” Charlie murmured, low enough that Bill and Fleur couldn’t hear him. “I reckon they’ll still pick me, though.”

“I bet you a Sickle that they don’t.”

“Deal.”

By the time they reached the top of the hill, the rest of the party guests - Bill and Charlie’s family, and several old friends - were already there, in varying states of sobriety. In turn, Artemis greeted the people she knew: the Weasleys, Penny Haywood-Parkin and her Quidditch-playing husband Lewis, Jae Kim and Chiara Lobosca, Ben Copper, Kingsley Shacklebolt, Andre Egwu, Tulip Karasu, Merula Snyde, Barnaby and Ellie Lee, Liz Tuttle, and Hagrid. A little boy with hair the same shade of turquoise as Tonks’ had been the night they met, fifteen years before, waved at her, and she found herself having to force a smile in return.

The war Dumbledore had told her would one day come had done so, and had left its survivors with deep scars and losses, of which Bill’s face and Ben Copper’s left leg had been the least severe. Artemis swallowed hard as she turned away from the boy who looked like Tonks and saw George Weasley setting up the fireworks by himself.

Someone asked for the time, and Artemis’ eyes immediately went to her ankle, despite her having not worn a watch on it for years. Beside her, Bill rolled up his sleeves to reveal his own watch, and began to count down from ten, the other guests joining in.

As their countdown reached zero, there was sudden rush of movement, noise, and light. Couples kissed, friends wished one another a happy new year, and George lit the first of his fireworks, which sizzled into the night sky and exploded far above their heads. Artemis felt a soft pressure on her right cheek, and turned to see Charlie at her side, a small smile playing on his freckled face.

“Happy New Year,” he said quietly, his eyes fixed on the darkened horizon, where more fireworks had started to appear in the distance, some sooner, some later, as other groups of wizards, witches, and Muggles waved goodbye to the previous century and ushered in the new one.

Their own display was by far the best, with fireworks taking the shapes of dragons and thunderbirds and phoenixes before erupting into bursts and showers, illuminating the sky with two thousand different colours.

All too soon, however, the spectacle was over, and the party guests prepared to journey back to the Burrow or their own homes. Artemis stayed put.

“You go on without me,” she said to Bill and Charlie, still watching the Muggle fireworks in the distance. “I want to watch the rest.”

Charlie frowned at her. “You sure? I don’t mind staying.”

“I’ll be fine.”

“Alright,” he shrugged. “I’ll get you a hot chocolate for when you get back.”

“With marshmallows?”

“Don’t push your luck.”

Artemis grinned as she looked back out over the view of the countryside, above which there were still Muggle fireworks appearing and disappearing in the distance, small flashes of light in the vast expanse of darkness.

All alone now, Artemis watched the fireworks and listened to the crackles and whizzes and bangs that were the only noises echoing through the January night. The grass at her feet was damp, the air around her was cold and laced with the scents of pine trees and gunpowder, and her lips still tasted faintly of sloe gin. Her fingers tingled, and her toes were numb, and her pulse coursed through her veins as her heart continued to beat in her chest, reminding her how very alive she was in this moment. Not that she needed the reminder. Right now, standing on Stoatshead Hill at the start of a new year, a new century, a new millennium, she felt more alive and more free than ever.

Out there in the darkness lay her future, though what it held, she did not know for certain. What she did know was that it was hers, and hers alone, and it was filled with places to be explored, mysteries to be solved, and adventures to be had. They were all out there, waiting for her to come and find them. And she would.

For now, though, there were more important things waiting for her: a ginger cat, a mug of hot chocolate, and house filled with music and laughter and people she loved dearly. She smiled and wrapped her cloak tighter around her, feeling warmer already.

And as the last firework disappeared into the night sky, so did Artemis Hexley.

THE END.

#artemis hexley #hogwarts mystery #hphm fic #hphm #the hexley saga #charlie weasley #bill weasley

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karskilledme · 1 year

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Two for one - BruAbba x Fem!Reader NSFW

I’m a big simp for BruAbba x reader so I had to make this. Basically, you’re sick hanging out with Mr. Abbacchio whose also sick and he makes the moves on you. Your hot capo shows up and is like hey let me join bbs ;)

Content Warnings: Vaginal sex, oral sex on female, fingering, booby play, cucking(Kind of, maybe there’s a better word), badly written smut.

Word count: 2977

Do not interact if you’re a minor 18+ only! NSFW under the cut.

After Abbacchio went and got you sick you’d figured it couldn’t hurt any worse to continue bothering him while you suffered. It was his fault so he’d have to deal with you. That’s how you found yourself seated next to him watching some stupid soap opera on his bed, at an appropriate distance of course. Maybe he didn’t know it but you hadn’t paid attention to a single word the tv said. Your ears were a hum with the awe that filled your love struck brain. His alabaster skin glowed with the sheen of sweat from his cold. Plump, oh so kissable lips, parted slightly due to his stuffy nose. Daring to cover even an inch of his sculpted features was his silver hair that lay unstyled and messy. To some this was the image of an obviously unwell man but to you this was the image of perfection. If he had noticed your staring he didn’t take mind and made no move to stop you.

Some time later you had managed to vaguely catch on to what was happening in the show but it wasn’t really your type of thing. In fact, bothering the man next to you sounded much more interesting. You shifted slightly towards him and hummed for attention.

“Abba, tell me what you think, did orange the fruit, or orange the color come first?” You asked, finger on your chin in a mockingly quizzical expression. His eyes briefly flickered from the show towards you before quickly deciding the show was more interesting. He grunted. “That’s a stupid question.” He paused as the show got intense, his slightly agape mouth twitching in interest. “Orange the fruit obviously.” He said quite matter a factly. You frowned and put your balled fists on your sides. “What makes you think that? How would they know to call it an orange if the color wasn’t the reason?” You demanded. Abbacchio paused his show and looked at you with a small smirk. “An orange was an orange before English had a name for the color dummy.” You frowned harder at this new found revelation and sulked.

Abbacchio watched your pitiful display before patting your shoulder. The sudden touch sent a jolt of excitement through you. Your eyes met his quickly.

“We can’t all be smart, it’s ok. You, Mista, Narancia. Me and Bruno have enough brains to cover for you all.” He teased. Your elatement at his touch quickly turned to fake hurt as you gasped and fell backwards on the bed covering your face. A horrendously fake sob wracked your body. “Oh how could you be so mean to me Abba!” You cried, hamming up the drama. “My heart is broken, I’ll never recover.” The bed shifted under you as he suddenly moved to pin you. You peaked through your fingers to see if it was true and there he was, just inches away from you. While your nerves began to betray you the act couldn’t end yet; fake sobs continued. Suddenly your hands were ripped from your face as he pinned your arms besides your head. Oh shit! Was all you could think, surprise evident on your fully red face. Abbachio’s own heart was racing. He wasn’t often forward; the only thing that allowed him to be so now was his comfort with you. Not to mention that there was a plan in motion with a goal to be reached between him and Bruno.

Abbacchio leaned down, his hot breath tickling your lips. “Don’t cry my tesoro.” He teased, his plump lips pulled into a cocky grin. If he wasn’t a hardened gangster there was no way he would have been able to keep this cool demeanor. Your slightly panicked face was doing him something wild. Your widened (E/C) eyes staring him down so intently, glowing skin that looked so soft and kissable, your lips that trembled slightly practically begging to be his. God you were just so delectable.

You had ended your act by now, all of your attention placed on him. The tension grew palpable as you stared into eachothers eyes. Neither of you had dared make a move since you were pinned, not that you had much choice as you were easily overpowered. The knot in your stomach clenched at your own thoughts. You just had to kiss him, it was now or never. Your eyes were partly lidded as you began your slow approach. Abbacchio’s lips tasted of tea and were perfectly soft, magical really. The way your heart exploded on impact left you breathless and your brain swimming in bliss. He pulled away softly and pressed his forehead to yours.

“ Sei la miglior cosa che mi sia capitata” He whispered(You’re the best thing that happened to me). Your fingers ghosted his cheek feeling their overwhelming warmth, a mix of sickness and embarrassment. “Abba… you make me so happy. I’ve waited for this for so long.” Cutting off your own sentiment you quickly moved in for another kiss only this time more intense. An ache of passion and the feeling of ‘Finally!’ fueled your movements.

A soft knock broke you apart. Abbacchio’s eyes met yours briefly, keying you in that something was up but what? He made his way to the door before stepping out into the hall. Whispers could be heard by you but what they discussed was indiscernible. Shortly he reentered followed by none other than your capo Bruno. You shot up in bed. “A-Ah- Bruno! I mean Capo!” You stammered. Bruno smiled softly and chuckled, “No need for the formalities, Bruno is more than fine when it’s coming from you my principessa.” he said. Your heart lurched once more, the knot that had begun to dissipate doubling its hold. Abbacchio had sat back down next to you while Bruno found a seat at Abbacchio’s desk across from the bed. Your eyes glanced towards Abbacchio for reassurance which earned a soft thigh squeeze.

“We wanted to talk to you.” He started, looking towards Bruno now. The short haired male nodded before piercing you with his trained gaze. His eyes were intense but not in a way of malice, they were friendly as ever, since the day you first met him he’d exuded positivity. It would be a lie to say you weren’t extremely interested in both of the men that sat before you but was that alright? Bruno was always so kind to you but you also admired his character and resolve. He was no doubt a beacon of hope for everyone around him and he was always sure to fill that role. On the other hand Abbacchio lured you in with his witty and interesting personality, not to mention his beautiful looks. It was hard to win him over at first but he was oh so worth it, the side of him that you got to enjoy now was so caring and humorous though he always showed these traits through his actions rather than his words. It also couldn’t be argued that he wasn’t a man of character who stood resolute in his beliefs. How could someone choose?!

Your attention was brought back to focus as Bruno began to speak. “You see (Y/n), me and Abbacchio have always had a close relationship but for a while now we’ve also had our eyes on you.” He scooted the chair closer to the bed and grabbed your smaller hands in his. Abbacchio’s grip on your thigh tightened. “We’d like to date you, both of us. You can say no if you want but we would be more than delighted if you felt the same.” He paused, looking down at your interlocked hands with a squeeze. “It’s also ok if you only have feelings for Abbacchio and not me.” Bruno was always one to reassure those he cared about and this was no exception, he didn’t want you to feel pressured in any way. You bit your lip and looked between the two.

“Of course I feel the same but is it really ok? I’ve never… never been in a relationship let alone one with two partners!” you questioned. Bruno chuckled softly, rubbing his thumb on your hand. “If you want us and we want you why wouldn’t it be? We’re all consenting adults here, sciocco.” Your teeth resumed their hold on your lip. The knot in your stomach was tied with metal chains. You peeked a glance at Abbacchio with questioning eyes. He nodded in confirmation and you sighed.

“Ok, no more worrying! I would love to date you both! If you’ll have me I’d be more than happy.” You exclaimed. The men grinned at each other before enveloping you in a warm hug. Bruno was the first to pull away, citing the two of you being sick. “I’ll head to the store to grab the two of you some medicine, do you need anything else, amores?” Bruno asked, approaching the door. After noting your needs he took leave and left you and Abbacchio alone once more.

The mood was noticeably different after Abbacchio and Brunos shared confession. Your worry had dissipated completely but it only made you painfully aware of a different sensation, your need. Warmth filled your lower half and a tingling of desire had you rubbing your thighs together oh so slightly. You figured it was the excitement of the situation that got you so worked up combined with the fact that you were in a very attractive mans bed; a man that was now your boyfriend.

Abbacchio had pulled you back up to your previous resting position the only difference being that you were now attached to him. You nuzzled your head into the crook of his exposed neck. You couldn’t help yourself from nipping and kissing at the soft skin.

“Oh. Eager already?” Abbacchio spoke with confidence but much like earlier it was a cool facade to mask his nervousness. He pressed your shoulder lightly to allow himself a chance to meet you in a kiss. You could feel the eagerness in his kiss. His hands trailed your sides slipping under the hem of your top before he pulled back to check in with you. After getting your confirmation he was back to work, nipping your bottom lip not quite softly but not enough to seriously hurt either. Your tongues quickly met in a battle of dominance, his warm appendage moving with skill as it curled and pushed against your own. His hands, which were warm with fever, had found their way up to your breasts. He gave them a hungry squeeze before his long digits moved to flick and squeeze them.

Just as the two of you thought the kissing might lead to more Bruno reentered, shopping bags in tow. He shut the door quickly with a soft, breathy chuckle.

“It seems a show is about to start.” he said. You blushed at his implication but Abbacchio only smirked, looking at him from his caging position above you.

“You’d love that wouldn’t you Bruno.” He said, putting special emphasis on Bruno. You shivered in anticipation beneath Abbacchio, your eyes still fixed on Bruno.

“You mean like.. You just want to watch?” You questioned, your innocence evident. Bruno nodded and plopped himself back at Abbacchios desk. “Of course. I’d love to watch my two amato together. You’re both sick so I can’t exactly join.” He said as if it were a very obvious fact.

You hummed in ponder. “So should I pay attention to you too or do you want me to ignore you? I’m not really sure how this kind of thing works ya know.” You said, a nervous chuckle following. Abbacchio made himself busy on your neck, clearly not too interested in your questions about Brunos cucking situation. You moaned softly as Abbacchio sucked on your sweet spot.

“You can ignore me if it would make you more comfortable but I’d love some of your attention too.” As he said this, Bruno slipped his pants down mid thigh. His cock was already visibly hard and ready to spring free. You bit your lip and nodded, turning your attention back to the stimulation at hand.

Minutes had passed of you and Abbacchio passionately battling it out through a clash of tongues. He pulled away and began to pull your clothes off in a frenzy. You were nervous of course but knowing you were in very secure hands put you at ease instantly. Your own hands began to strip Abbacchio of his loungewear. Drool practically pooled in your mouth as you drank in his physique. His alabaster skin was chiseled with soft abs, marked with scars both old and new; it was evidence of his hard life. He smirked at your awe but was internally grateful that you hadn’t just up and left upon seeing him, he was always too hard on himself.

Both fully nude, Abbacchio resumed kissing you but not on the lips. His soft kisses trailed from your chin down to your breast where he took a moment to pamper each one. He kissed your nipple softly, sending a shiver through you, before he swirled his tongue around it. Finally he gave it a quick suck before moving on to the next. Your cunt throbbed at the attention, a slick mess forming between your thighs. Your body was begging for more. As if he read your mind, his hands trailed down to your thighs, one grabbing them apart and the other making its way to your slick folds. His fingers teased your clit as he sucked away on your nipple.

The pleasure was immense but you couldn’t help but think about Bruno. You glanced over to the shorter haired man only to get blessed with quite the beautiful sight. There he sat, pants and boxers now at his ankles. His hand gently and slowly working himself as he watched. You couldn’t help but stare as you noticed his top was undone revealing the intricate lingerie he always wore. Bruno offered you a strained smile and seemed to urge you to rejoin your session.

As your attention shifted back Abbacchio was on the move again. His lips continued their trail of kisses down your belly before stopping at your navel. He looked up at you just inches above your aching heat. “Abba pleeaase. I really need you.” You practically begged. He smirked and placed a kiss at the top of your slit before moving in. His fingers. which had been massaging your clit, now made their way to your slicked entrance as his tongue took their place. A moan of pleasure ripped through you, your back arching off the bed but your butt glued in place from his firm grasp. You were already close just from the little that had happened but you never wanted it to end. His tongue worked in skilled precision. He swirled circles on your clit, occasionally grabbing it with his lips for an ultra soft tug. “F-fuck… Abba I’m so- agh - close!” You moaned. Your words kicked him into overdrive as he worked double to push you over the edge. The warmth in your core exploded in a shockwave of tingles.

You heaved out a breathy sigh of relief as he made his way to his knees. You looked at Bruno once more and noticed he was still moving at quite a leisurely pace. Abbacchio flipped you over with ease and positioned you so you were both facing Bruno. Your ass was hoist into the air, your pussy still ready and anxious to be filled. Abbacchios dick lined up your entrance and slid up and down your folds before pushing in. He was average in girth but lengthy. Your slick helped you quickly adjust as he slowly pushed to hilt.

“You’re treating her so good amore mio.” Bruno breathed out, enjoying your display. Abbacchio met eyes with him as he thrust into you, eliciting a sharp but pleasant yelp from you.

“I bet you can’t wait to join us. Get a taste of her yourself.” Abbacchio said, lightly gripping your chin and guiding you to look at Bruno.

You looked at Bruno absolutely blissed out. Bruno was entranced by the swinging of your gorgeous breast as Abbacchio pound into you. Bruno couldn’t lie, he wanted to be entangled with the two of you more than anything but Capos didn't have time to get sick so this was the next best thing. Besides he found the both of you incredibly attractive so this was definitely the best jerk off material a guy could ask for.

Your hands gripped the bed with everything you had. You didn’t expect Abbacchio to be a gentle lover based off his personality so it was no surprise he was fucking you like his life depended on it. Not that you were complaining, you couldn’t when he was doing such a good job hitting your g spot over and over again.

You bit into your wrist as the pressure began to build signaling your next orgasm. It was evident in Abbacchios movements that he was getting close to, he began to grow ragged and shaky, his dick twitching and swelling inside you. You let out a cry of ecstasy, your pussy squeezing and milking his pounding cock. He grunted, “G-god!” and not but seconds later did he spill into you, filling you to the brim with his hot cum. As the two of you settled you were happy to see that Bruno had came as well. “Hope you enjoyed the show Bambola.” Abbacchio teased, crashing down next to you. Bruno smiled and moved to clean himself up. “How could I not? Though next time I hope to star in it.” He said with a wink. You couldn’t believe it still, even after getting your brains fucked out while your hot capo watched. Two boyfriends?!

#bruabba #bruabba x reader #leone abbachio x reader #bruno bucciarati x reader #bruno bucellati x reader #leone abbacchio #bruno bucciarati #bruno buccellati #jjba #jjba part 5 #jjba x reader #smut #bad smut #haleywritesstuff

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