#and they have to be like HERES HOW MY EVIL ASSHOLE WAS ACTUALLY THE GOOD GUY THE NARRATIVE TRIED TO SLANDER | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

evanpetersmybf · 2 months

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All he asked for was you

Tate Langdon x female!reader

Summary: Tate loves you too much. He would do anything for you, to keep you by his side, to make you love him forever. He would cross any line to make you his, it doesn't matter how evil it is... But was it really worth it?

Genre: ANGST!! and some smut

Word count: 5,104

Warnings: Obsessive, stalkish and violent behavior, implicit toxic relationship; mentions of weapons, murder, mental health issues, family issues, school shooting; use of Y/N, swearing, cunnilingus, fingering, unprotected p in v. (i hope i'm not missing any...) NOT PROOFREAD !!

A/N: English isn't my first language!! Sorry if I have some mistakes and if Tate's a bit ooc (i tried to keep him in character as much as i could). I wasn't sure (and still not) if this is good but I spent days writing it, so I had to post it.

A small playlist with songs that inspired me for this: monster by meg and dia, pacify her by melanie martinez, all i want is you by rebzyyx, skyfall by adele, psycho by doko, paparazzi by lady gaga, dark red by steve lacy.

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Tate never believed in love, nor was he a romantic one.

In fact, he despised it. How could he even believe in that feeling when he never felt loved by his own mother? At least that’s what he pretended.

The blond always had the facade of a tough guy, although he couldn’t fool anyone. Constance knew well he was a sensitive boy. Probably the most crybaby ever to exist… And the most unstable one.

Now he was here. His chest going up and down, breathing shallow and fast. His eyes were darting around the room, looking for something or perhaps someone. Some silly tears were rolling down his cheeks while he anxiously fidgeted with a ring on his finger. The clock on the wall continued its tick-tack. The time kept running. His heart kept beating. It was getting late.

He refused to look at the wooden floor. He didn’t want to accept reality. If Tate did that, he would feel like the biggest monster on Earth.

Nevertheless, he couldn’t stay like this.

He had to do something real fast.

Today, 18:40

You were supposed to arrive at 19:00.

But he remained there, next to the corpse of his rival. A bloody ax beside the dead man’s bleeding head.

Whom he thought was his worst enemy, was someone really dear to you.

Well, Tate fervently believed this was something justified. He couldn’t stand that fucking asshole anymore! That scumbag needed to be put back in his place. And Tate only did that. Furthermore, he actually helped him. He took him away from this shitty world. It was a favor.

He had already killed his mother’s boyfriend, so why was he feeling guilty?

Maybe because his victim was special to you. Because his death would hurt you. And Langdon swore to God he would never let anybody or anything hurt you, including himself.

He loved you.

He wanted to be the one to hold your hand forever.

Tate snapped back to the present and frowned. He picked up the weapon, putting it in his backpack. He didn’t even mind cleaning it. Then, he proceeded to knelt right next to the lifeless dude and cleaned the blood surrounding his body; afterwards, he dragged him to the basement and…

19:00

A knock on the door.

You arrived.

“DAMN IT!”

He left his dead foe lying limp on the cold basement ground and quickly ran upstairs, straight to his room. He also left the backpack there.

Tate spent the last twenty minutes cleaning the mess he made in the living room after he atrociously smashed your friend’s head, forgetting that had poor time to get ready.

He desperately looked for clean clothes, scrambling the entire closet in search of fresh garments while he cussed at himself, at his mother, at that freaking boy, at the entire world but you.

Finally he found some jeans and a striped shirt. He looked at himself in the mirror after changing and cleaned the tiny drops of blood that stayed on his face and hands. He never realized he left the bloody clothing on the bed.

Another knock.

19:07

Tate opened the door, immediately throwing himself at you and giving you one of the warmest hugs. His demeanor with you was completely different; you were the only creature capable of changing his fucked up mind into something more beautiful, more peaceful. The issue was that it only happened when he was with you, otherwise he would be aggressive and rude as usual.

You got the best of him.

“Missed you so fuckin’ much, babe…” Voice muffled since his face was buried in the crook of your neck. Tate always did the same thing; clinging onto you like a small koala would.

“Heh, me too, hun!” You spoke with the same soothing voice he adored. Tate giggled and placed a tender kiss on your jawline, then another, and another, and another.

Soon enough, he was peppering kisses all over your neck, making you moan softly. Oh those sounds. He could hear you melting under his touch, his embrace, for the rest of eternity.

He loved making you squirm, making you laugh, making you feel loved.

He was way too sweet.

Only if you knew.

Four weeks before today…

Tate has always had the bad habit of stalking you. Yeah… He wasn’t proud of it. But can you blame him? He’s constantly afraid of you leaving him. He wanted to make sure you never did so… Otherwise he would die. Literally.

Don’t ask how he would die. You already know the answer.

You two were supposed to have a date, albeit you had to cancel your meeting.

And that, of course, made him overthink. It didn’t matter how many times you told him you were going to study; he felt betrayed, as if you were rejecting him. And Tate hated and feared rejection to the bone.

“Pretty please? Please, Y/N! I don’t wanna go home early, mom’s gonna be there and-and–”

“Tate, I can’t skip this. I have like, a test every day next week and I must study. I don’t wanna fail. Please, sweetie. I promise I’ll make it up to ya’, mhm?”

He rolled his eyes and whined, almost throwing a tantrum. He didn’t try to manipulate you on purpose. It came out naturally. “But I need you, Y/N! Why do you always do the same, huh? Am I not that important? Don’t you love me any longer?”

His childish crying continued for a couple of minutes, until it stopped and the blond agreed a deal with you.

You thought he was calm now, but no. How naive.

You went to the library to study as you said… Without noticing he followed you.

Quietly, he got into that maze of books after you and hid behind some shelves.

Tate noticed you sat on an empty table. Thank God. Oh?

Who. Is. He.

A man Tate didn’t know sat next to you. Really close. Too close for Tate’s liking. He tried to think he was a stranger, that he wasn’t going to talk to you… He was wrong.

He clenched his hands into a ball when he saw that idiot talking to you, and the worst part was that you followed suit. It seemed you two were friends or something.

How DARE YOU talk to another man? No, how dare you talk to another HUMAN BEING!?

Tate was insecure 24/7.

If you weren’t there, Tate was falling apart. It was simple.

No Y/N, no happy Tate. Was it too hard to understand?

Three weeks before today…

It was Friday. Tate was impatiently waiting for you outside the campus, hanging a small bouquet of flowers he picked up.

Once he spotted you coming out from the building, he waved his hand and embraced you tightly once you were in front of him. He gave you the adorable present.

“Tate!”

“How did you do? Did you pass your tests? Don’t tell me, I’m sure you did.” Said, grinning from ear to ear. He was away from you for an entire week. How did he survive? He didn’t know, but he was glad to have you with him again. “Tell me about your life in the last days, baby. Please? I feel like I haven’t seen you in years!”

There he was, the one and only drama queen Tate Langdon.

You talked about the tests, about how the teachers were being a pain in the ass (which clearly triggered in him the intense desire of hurting them because they stressed you), and… About a guy. The same guy from the library, with whom you spent the entire last week studying. He couldn’t stand it. He saw him as a threat to your relationship, especially since he was an old friend that you met many years ago.

As the days went by, you gave him more reasons to hate that jerk. Why? Well of course because you spent hours at the library doing homework or studying with him. Or even hanging out with him and other people.

In reality, you went out with him to a museum just once, and then skating with other colleagues. Nothing compared to the time you spent with Tate; in a week, you would hang out with him almost daily, and if you were way too busy, he would go to your place and spend the night there. He was so attached to you to the point he had to see you at least once a day. And that’s why he was so jealous of your friend. Tate couldn’t stand the idea of you sharing your life with someone else who wasn’t him or your family… And he also got jealous of them, but he was handling it.

Two weeks before today.

After Tate’s pleas, you decided to introduce your friend to him.

Probably a big mistake.

The date was really awkward; your friend tried being nice, and Tate acted surprisingly kind. Of course it was odd; usually, he despised all of your friends and treated them badly, yet this time was different. You were stunned, however, you tried to ignore it and instead got happy as he finally accepted a random person as your buddy.

Still and all, he hated that moron. It didn’t matter how much he tried liking your pal, he was jealous of him. He was getting on his nerves. He denied the fact that you had more love for other people that wasn’t him. Tate desired being your only one. Your number one. Your entire world. Because that’s what you were for him. And he was willing to do whatever to keep you with him.

Tate exchanged numbers with him and meticulously plotted a plan to ascertain he would never talk to you ever again. At first, it came out as a simple “I’m gonna scare the shit outta him”, nonetheless, it turned into a darker idea, very likely involving physical violence.

One week before today…

The last few days, Tate won Peter’s trust. Ah yes. That’s your friend's name. You were glad that he finally opened his warm heart and began to meet more people besides you.

You thought he needed a friend, an empathetic person who could support the blond when you weren’t available, that way he would feel less lonely and depressed.

They went to the cinema, to the arcade, even to a music store. Everything was going according to what he planned.

Eventually, he invited Peter to his place to play chess and other board games on a Sunday afternoon, before you arrived and had a date with Tate due to your anniversary.

Today, 16:00

Peter and Tate were eating pizza and having a great noon, talking about their lives and random stuff, like school and music. They both enjoyed Nirvana, and since Peter played the guitar, he agreed on teaching your boy how to.

If it weren’t for Tate’s twisted mind, they would’ve been best friends.

The guitarist wasn’t a bad guy. He was a great buddy that really appreciated you and the crybaby, but Langdon had something else in mind.

18:00

The men watched a movie. Tate didn’t even know its name; in fact, he didn’t even pay attention to it. Instead, he was focused on his next actions, plotting them carefully.

“Crap, mom’s gonna arrive soon…” Tate mumbled with annoyance, biting his nails and tapping his foot on the floor. He was lying. You were going to arrive, not Constance.

“Damn, bro. Well, I don’t have a problem. I wanna meet her.”

“Huh? No no no, you shouldn’t. That bitch is crazy.”

Peter scoffed, disagreeing with Tate’s rude manner to call his own momma.

“Hey, you shouldn’t talk like that. I bet she loves you!”

That pissed him off. “You don’t know anything, Peter. Your family is different. Your life’s different. You won’t understand!” He yelled, standing up from the couch and now pacing around the room, trying to keep it calm.

“Dude, calm down!

“NO! I fucking won’t!”

The screaming continued for a while. Tate revealed his unstable and crystal self. Even something so insignificant could drive him to the edge, like what happened today. That definitely surprised the other one, who used to think that Tate was a sweet boy. “I dunno why Y/N is dating you.”

“What did you say?” Tate abruptly stopped pacing.

“Y/N. Y/N doesn’t deserve you.”

“WHY WOULD YOU EVEN SAY THAT!?” He pounced on Peter, gripping his neck with one rough hand, applying enough pressure on the sides to stop the blood circulation in his carotids and make him lose consciousness.

Before passing out, Peter, getting pale, managed to croak out: “Because she deserves better…”

Soon enough, he fainted, giving Tate minutes to think about what else to do.

Your boyfriend wasn’t planning on murdering Peter today. No, he didn’t have time. He also was supposed to meet you.. But this was the perfect excuse! And not only that; he indirectly admitted he was in love with you! Or that’s what Tate interpreted with his delusional point of view.

Peter didn’t feel anything romantic for you, he was just worried Tate might be too unhinged to be your partner.

Thus, he went to his room and grabbed his backpack. Then, went to the garden shed and picked up the ax that belonged to his father, and a bottle of lye.

He had to get the job done quickly, nevertheless, he lost track of time.

18:30

Tate came back to the living room, just to notice that Peter wasn’t there anymore.

“FUCK IT!” Langdon got nervous. What if he escaped? What if he told you that Tate was crazy? He couldn’t allow this, not at all.

Thankfully, or maybe not, Tate found Peter crawling towards the front door, the poor dude still feeling dizzy after being choked.

Tate didn’t have any mercy.

“Where do you think you’re going, lil’ piece of shit!?”

18:38

Tate finally did it. He brutally murdered Peter, smashing his head several times with the ax.

He got rid of that little issue. He took him to somewhere clean.

Once he assured the other man wasn’t breathing, he dropped the weapon on the floor, making a loud metallic thud.

19:10

Tate was pinning you down on the couch, the same couch where your dead friend was sitting just an hour ago.

His hands were traveling all along your body, tracing sweet patterns on your skin.

Eventually, his fingers were clumsily pulling down your panties, not minding to take off your skirt. “Did you bring this for easy access, baby?” Tate chuckled and buried his face between your legs, holding your thighs in place; his lips plastered messy kisses over the warm flesh, biting it and leaving tiny marks after sucking.

Your reaction was alluring to him; he enjoyed listening to your pleas, to your whimpers. If it was for him, he would spend the entire day making you cum over and over again.

He finally got rid of your underwear, tossing it aside. Without further ado, the boy spread your folds with his large digits, and continued to lick your throbbing wet cunt.

“So fucking pretty… So wet for me, huh?”

His tongue lapped your small clit two or three times, then, traced a zigzag and circles on the sensitive nub. While he devoured you, he inserted his middle and ring finger, pumping them in and out of your cute hole, curling them and hitting the right spot to make you feel butterflies.

Tate could feel his arousal growing; his erection being restrained by the tight fabric of his jeans. He was desperate, yeah. But he always put you in the first place, and that included pleasuring you before him.

After a while, he replaced his fingers with his tongue, fucking your pussy with the agile muscle and now rubbing your clit with his thumb, applying pressure that sent electric waves through your body. He stopped using his tongue on you and instead looked at that stunning face of yours. He was delighted with your flushed cheeks, with every single gesture you did, with the way your eyes rolled to the back of your head. He wanted to take a picture of you to remember this moment forever.

His thumb increased the pace, while his free hand lifted up your blouse and tried to undo your bra. He couldn’t. You giggled when he groaned in frustration; he was too horny to think straight and that’s why you helped him to take off the garment.

Tate sighed and after that awkward and funny moment, he kept rubbing your bud, using your own juices and his saliva as a lubricant, intensifying the sensation. His left pinched and pulled your nipple, making you gasp and twitch beneath him, whilst his mouth abused your other one, greedily sucking on it.

“Tate, ‘m gonna cum! I-”

Tate cut you off by kissing you harshly; his tongue invading your warm mouth, exploring it and then nibbling your bottom lip until it bleeded. He licked the tiny drops of blood, savoring the metallic taste of it.

Unable to hold on any longer, you reached your orgasm, coming undone while Tate kept caressing your pussy, decreasing the velocity while you finally calmed down.

He left you panting; your heart beating so fast just like his.

You tried to sit up on the couch, breathing deep for more air, but the blond prevented you from going away.

“Where do you think you’re doing? We’re not done yet, you’re gonna cum again!”

Tate carried you bridal style and went upstairs straight to his bedroom. He threw you on the bed.

Without stopping looking at you, he unbuckled his belt and pulled down his jeans along the boxers; his dick already erect and throbbing, the veins thick and the tip leaking precum.

Using the clear liquid as lube, he stroked his shaft for a while, jerking off to the sight of you. He groaned and whimpered, closing his eyes as his hand pumped himself.

One of your hands went to your breasts, massaging them softly as your right went down between your legs, slowly teasing your womanhood and coating your index finger with your arousal, using it to rub your aching bundle of nerves.

Tate’s dark room was now filled with both of your moans; Tate calling your name several times and you begging him to fuck you.

He couldn’t stand this anymore. He NEEDED to be inside you, to feel your warmth enveloping him. “On all fours. Now.” You immediately obeyed, feeling as eager as him.

“Look at me, mhm?” He positioned behind you and rubbed the tip against your wet folds, teasing you for a bit. Afterwards, he slowly entered his cock inside your slit, moving it slowly at first. His thumb went to your clitoris, toying with it just like minutes before. He picked up the pace and fucked you fast and hard; his cockhead brushing your cervix. Grabbing a fistful of your hair, Tate pulled your head towards him, still with the deep thrusting. “Fuck, Y/N! You’re so pretty… So fucking precious, so fucking mine!” Moaned against your ear, voice raspy and agitated.

Panting, you stopped looking at him and instead looked to the bed. Why? Who knows, but you did it. And you saw Tate’s dirty clothes. Dirty with blood. A lot of blood.

You froze. Maybe it was red paint?

“U-uh, Tate?” You muttered, feeling already bewildered by the sight. You tried not to jump into conclusions, although you knew Tate and he has always been… Secretive.. And aggressive, of course.

After your boyfriend heard your shaky whisper, he stopped moving, even if he wanted to keep going. “Hm?”

“What’s this?” Tate sighed and pulled out from you, not understanding what you meant.

“What’s what?”

Without saying anything else to him, you grabbed the shirt and touched the weird stain. It was still fresh. You took your fingers to your mouth to taste it; and the metallic tang was too obvious. “Tate, what the fuck is this!?”

You threw it at him. Freaked out, you stood up and picked up your clothes, putting them on again, all meanwhile Tate connected the dots and realized he was probably going to get caught.

“Wait, Y/N! It’s not what it looks like, I swear, damn it!” He yelled and grabbed your arm, not wanting you to leave like this. He had to save his reputation, he couldn’t let you think bad of him even if you had all the right. Because, why the fuck the fabric was soaked in blood?

“Then what is it, Tate? WHY DOES IT HAVE SO MUCH BLOOD!?”

“CALM DOWN, PLEASE!”

You attempted to get away from his grip, struggling with him until, somehow, you managed to do so. However, you tripped with his dirty shoes and fell, realizing they were also stained with the red liquid. “Tate, what…? Why? What is this?”

“Nothing, I swear!” He didn’t have any excuses. Saying it was paint would’ve been lame. You were too smart and he knew lying wasn’t a good choice.

Feeling overwhelmed with the matter, you went downstairs, walking as fast as you could. Passing through the living room, a very familiar bag caught your eye. It was definitely Peter’s. You decided to grab it and realized it had his phone inside. Something was off.

Tate was standing behind you; fists clenched and heart beating like crazy. He tried to approach you, still thinking about what to do or what to say.

“Tate… What is this doing here? Peter’s here?”

“Huh? Yeah… He— He came earlier and had to go soon, he left this accidentally, yup…” You could see him fidgeting with that ring on his finger, again.

“Bullshit!”

Tate scowled and grabbed your chin, making you look at his dark orbs. “Tell me, Y/N, do you trust me or not, huh? Look me in the eyes and say you don’t!”

The struggle continued for what seemed eternity. You trying to run away from the house and he trying to make you stay. “Please, Y/N, just listen to me!”

“You did something to him, right? I know him, Tate! He would NEVER leave his phone like this! Is this a joke?”

“Why do you care so much about that asshole!? What has he done for you!? Tell me!”

“Oh my, you’re jealous! I knew it! All that crap about being his friend was a lie, right? Tate, you’re being delusional! I can have friends, I can hang out with whoever I want, whether you like it or not!”

Tate pressed your cheeks between his thumb and the rest of his fingers, squeezing the flesh with his veiny, big hand, pressing it tightly enough to leave the mark of his long digits on it.

“You can’t! You’re mine. Only mine. Since the day you were born you were meant to be mine. Not his, not anybody, just me.”

“Tate… We should end this…” You thought this was the best for both. Being in a relationship with him was draining; always being careful to not hurt him, make him jealous or mad. He was such a sensitive boy that always took everything too personally. He felt everything a little too much.

Since the beginning you knew he was unstable and that he had many issues, but you tried to see beyond his sick mind, you tried to understand him despite being so different.

Tate felt so safe with you. You were the only person who understood him, or at least made attempts to.

He felt rejected by the entire society, even by his own mother, until he met you and he had a minimum spark of hope that the world didn’t suck that much.

That’s why he clung to you. That’s why you were his everything. He would lose his mind if you leave him.

He felt like dying when he heard you wanted to finish the relationship.

He couldn’t breathe.

Some tears were now falling to the floor, his eyes puffy and an ugly frown on his face. His mouth twisted as he sobbed loudly, tugging the hem of your shirt while he begged you to stay. He was crying like a newborn, like a baby who had to be apart from his mother for a second.

“No no no no, you can’t do this to me!” He whimpered, his speech cracking as he tried to hold you close whilst you were stepping back. You were slipping through his fingers, you were leaving him.

“Tate, if something happened to Peter, I will never forgive you! Can’t you see you’re hurting me?”

Tate swore he would never hurt you, nor let anyone. But here he was, finally snapping out of it and seeing the cruel truth.

“You’ve been hurting me the whole time, Tate! I tried to understand you, I really did, I tried to help you, to save you from yourself! But it’s impossible. I’m losing myself here with you, I don’t even know who I am anymore! You don’t want help, do you? ‘Cause it doesn’t matter what I do, you’re never satisfied! You suffocate me!”

All those words were like daggers penetrating his skin, touching his nerves and making him die of pain. You were tearing him apart, just the way he was destroying you.

He finally let go of you, feeling a tornado of emotions. Tate felt depressed, mad, resentful, like he was going crazy. Though, he knew he had to leave if that’s what you wanted. He couldn’t bring himself to break another promise.

Thereby, he confessed his crimes to you. He explained he killed his mom’s partner a few days ago, and that now he had killed your friend. Why? He was jealous, he was scared you’d left him. You did it before you discovered the cruel reality, anyways. That’s why he told you. Because he couldn’t lose anything else.

The situation was utterly disgusting. Tate was sick. He murdered an innocent man and then proceeded to fuck you, as it was the maximum test of love, as if his life meant nothing.

You knew he wasn’t what people often considered “normal”. But this was definitely more than just being a “weirdo”. Tate needed psychiatric help… And being arrested, of course.

“You make me wanna puke, Tate! You’re the evil!”

Without hesitating, you left Tate behind, running as fast as you could from that living hell.

You just wanted to cry, curl up into a ball and wake up from this nightmare. You wished it was merely a bad dream.

Tomorrow morning, you’d go to the police, but for now you needed to sleep.

Monday morning, 11:05

You couldn’t sleep all night. You spent hours thinking about everything, about how this looked like a cruel joke to you. Eventually, you fell asleep at 4AM, and didn’t wake up at what seemed almost midday.

An intense sound of police sirens woke you from your slumber. Startled by the loud noise, you rubbed your eyes and went to the window, trying to get a glimpse of what was happening outside.

Police cars and SWAT vans were going in a specific direction… Towards Tate’s street. It couldn’t be, right?

Did his mother find the corpse? Or perhaps something else?

You looked at the clock, realizing it was late and you had to go to class.

08:00

After the most painful night of his life, Tate decided today everything would be over.

He had to cleanse the world… To take people to somewhere else, to some place full of peace away from the piss and the vomit that runs down the streets.

He was doing this not only because of your breakup, but also because of many other reasons. Your split up was the straw that broke the camel and drove him to the edge.

10:40

After shooting the school, Tate left the place, looking unfazed about what he just did. He was unhinged.

He peacefully got into his place, went to his room and stayed there for some minutes.

The blond sat on the edge of the bed, leaving the gun right next to him and stared at nothing. His gaze was empty, but also there were some tears threatening to spill.

His mind was a whirlwind. Some part of him was satisfied, but the other was confused, wondering what was he thinking, what had he done?

What would you think of him now? Were you even there? Did he kill you too and he didn’t even notice?

In the end, he recognized he indeed was the evil you said. Damn it. You were right, again, as ever.

Tate wanted to hear your voice, to comfort him, to hear you saying everything was okay. That he’d be okay. He desired to hear “I love you” from you once more.

11:15

You went downstairs to find your family apparently mourning you.

They thought you were at school when the shooting happened. They believed you were gone, but here you were.

Eventually, they explained to you what happened.

The first thing that popped into your mind was Tate’s wellbeing, still unaware that he was the culprit. You were afraid something terrible could’ve happened to him, you were regretting your last words to him, but you also had to get him prisoner.

Your heart dropped when they explained to you he was the shooter.

No, it couldn’t be possible.

It was possible. After all, he had already killed two men.

Even if you despise what he did, some part of you still longed for him, still was in love with his once kind heart.

A terrifying feeling of dread filled your body, making you feel numb, as if none of this was real…

11:25

After running to Tate’s house and seeing it surrounded by the cops and the SWAT team, everything stopped. Constance’s distressed cries and pleas were heard from outside, followed suit by the sound of bullets. It was over now.

Tate was certainly a troubled individual who dedicated his entire life to searching for something, to feel something, to feel loved.

All he asked for was love, to be loved, to love. All he wanted was you.

But at the same time, your love led him to an never-ending obsession that ultimately broke both of you.

He became your biggest regret.

All he feared, all his nightmares came true. Everything he was so afraid of was him and only himself.

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spacedace · 1 year

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So I have an idea for a dp x dc fic and I'm going to throw it here since i need to get it out of my head and i'm not sure i'll ever actually write it (and as always if anyone finds my rambles interesting any/all of it us up for grabs to run with):

Elle ends up crashing into the DC universe while exploring, but despite all the dimension/multivariate nonsense that always goes down (or maybe because of it) she can't actually get back, and the levels of ectoplasm are a lot lower than most dimensions which weakens her quite a bit.

There's enough for her to survive, and use her powers a little bit, but using them too much makes her get really weak/maybe even causes serious harm depending on how much she uses.

She finds this out when she tries to open a portal home and both fails to open the portal & passes out as a result of trying. Cut to Elle waking up in Cadmus and realizing "ah, fucked up unethical science, I am familiar with this fuckery" and escapes.

In the process of escaping she comes across Kon, who isn't "finished" yet. He's alive and aged up to a teenager, but isn't quite done with his programming/whatever (this idea came to me based entirely off what I've gleaned through fandom so I don't know the canon of Kon's whole time with Cadmus). Elle immediately realizes "Oh clone baby, that's not good" and breaks him out and takes him with her.

Kon in this doesn't know he's a clone of Superman, he doesn't know a lot of things considering how early into the clone info-dumling process he was in when Elle broke him out. He barely knows language and how to read. What he does know for sure though is that Cadmus is Bad and Getting the Fuck Out is Good so he's down to go with Elle

Queue them becoming friends and being on the run together, learning about this world/dimension together and coming to see each other as family. Eventually they end up in Gotham because it's one of the places that naturally has a higher ectopalsm level and because if you're in the right area no one cares if you have no legal ID (in some circles it's a plus).

Kon gets a lot of odd jobs before eventually ending up working at a strip club or burlesque bar or something (my idea is that it's years after escaping so he's in his early 20s at this point and not just a fresh baby clone anymore and he gets into it because he likes it and it's good money) while Elle uses her ghostly knowledge/what powers she can to work as like a psychic or something like that.

Meanwhile Justice League (with alive again Superman) have found out about the escaped Superman clone and, along with Cadmus, are desperately trying to track him down. The info they have is a bit murky, so they think it's actually *two* clones, one that had Martian dnd also thrown in to the mix based off a short clip they managed to find of Elle phasing through walls.

My idea is that it'd all finally come to a head when Constantine pulls Tim (and maybe also Damian) in on a JL Dark case that involves the Lazerus Pit and for reasons ends up having to hire Elle to help. I'm thinking it's a thing that Elle is a pretty respected name in certain magic circles due to her expert knowledge on the Infinite Realms, though she refuses to work for most people who seek her out - even though the money would be good - because usually it's only evil assholes that want to hire her.

She makes a deal with Jon to help (in exchange for something that would let her get a message to Danny letting him know what happened or something like that) and Kon joins in because there's no way he's trusting a dude Elle calls the "drunk soul slut" with his baby sister unattended, he doesn't *care* if she could handle herself it's not happening.

Anyway, Tim/Kon (and maybe some Damian/Elle) shenanigans during a Lazerus Pit/demon hunting road trip where eventually everyone figures out who Kon & Elle are, Elle manages to get a stable portal setup so she can go home and come back whenever she wants (Kon getting adopted by Danny? Kon getting adopted by Danny) and Kon joining Young Justice and having a good relationship with Clark (who had a lot more time to deal with things before meeting Kon and learned about him as a person before learning he was Clark's clone).

Anyway there would be a scene at the end where Kon would be in his superhero suit for the first time and just:

Clark: Did you choose a hero name yet?

Kon: Yeah, I figured I'd go with Supernova.

Clark, feeling touched: Yeah? Any particular reason?

Kon: It's cool, it has 'Super' in the name, and really it just seemed the easiest option, I'm used to responding to Nova, so *shrugs*

Clark: Yeah? Why's that? Nickname?

Kon: I guess kinda? It's my stage name at the strip club I work at

Clark: what

Tim, brain shut down by this revelation: ...do you do private shows?

Clark: w h a t

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dwobbitfromtheshire · 5 months

Text

I expanded on this.

The gate to hell was closed, and Vecna was dead. Unfortunately, Max and Eddie were still in a coma. Things were starting to change in Hawkins, and for a lot of people, it was a welcome change. . .for the more conservative, however, it was almost like the end of the world. While Max and Eddie slept, several people packed up and left the town they no longer believed was safe. They simply refused to believe that Eddie wasn't the killer or that he wasn't possessed by Satan.

In their place, freaks like Eddie started moving into their homes. It was metalheads who wanted to support their fellow comrades, and it was nerds who wanted to know that people like them no longer had people coming after him. It was also people like Eddie, people like Robin, and people like Steve who came to support someone who they felt like he was one of their own even though they had no way of knowing. Soon, it became a safe place for metalheads, nerds, and for the queer folk. It became such a safe place for them that Robin, Steve, and Will felt comfortable enough to come out to the party.

The only downside were the conspiracy theorists that followed everyone else and the insane people who believed that they were in love with Eddie. The overwhelming number of people who moved into Hawkins became too much, even if they meant well, even if they wanted to show support for Eddie. They needed more people on the police force, which meant bringing Hopper in back as Chief, something Powell had been grateful for.

"I still can't believe it," Robin rambled as she stacked videotapes. "Who knew that Vecna tearing a hole in the middle of Hawkins would lead it to becoming, like San Franciso?"

"Yeah, did you know the Hideout is basically a gay bar now?" Steve asked.

"What?! No!" Robin shrieked as she dropped a tape and then she narrowed her eyes. "Wait. . .how do you know? . . . Steve Muriel Harrington, did you go and have a one-night stand?"

"Shut up, I should have never told you my middle name. I couldn't sleep, okay?" Steve blushed.

"Okay, so, how much did this guy look like Eddie?" Robin asked.

"Not at all," Steve scoffed. "Okay, a little bit . . . a lot! He looked a lot like Eddie, but he was mean. I know that Eddie could be an asshole, but he was too mean. . . too rude to the bartender who was serving him drinks. It made me feel good about giving him a fake number and a fake name."

"So, how often did you call him Eddie while you were pounding away inside of him?" Robin said.

"You ever think we should consider the whole boundary thing that Nancy says we should have?" Steve asked.

"Okay, so several times then," Robin grinned. "Nance is joking because where is the fun in having boundaries?"

"By the way, there was no . . . um, you know. . .," Steve said, blushing.

"Penetration?" she asked.

"Nope," Steve replied.

"You're hoping to save that for Eddie, aren't you?" Robin asked, grinning and then looked at him softly. "He's going to wake up, you know. So is Max. Being possessed by an evil wizard takes a lot out of people. It has to. They just need to rest."

"I know," he said.

The bell above the door rang, and Vickie burst through, her face shining in excitement. She ran towards Robin and didn't skid to a stop in time, causing the tapes in Robin's arms to spill onto the floor.

"Sorry," Vickie squeaked.

"It's not a problem. I've done worse," Robin said with a wide grin, her eyes as shiny as Vickie's face.

"I got asked out by a woman! Though she wasn't the one that I wanted to ask me out or the one that I wanted to ask out, actually. Though she was hot, and I definitely have a thing for women with pretty blue eyes," Vickie rambled. "Anyway, after I rejected her, but I did it very nicely, I came here because I wanted to ask you out. I understand if you don't want to. I totally would get through it because I'd want you in my life no matter what. Yeah, right, I actually have to ask you out. Will you go out with me?"

They were still kneeling on the floor in the middle of a bunch of video tapes. Robin stared at her for a moment before grinning.

"Yeah, I would love to!" Robin exclaimed.

"Great!" Vickie exclaimed and surged forward to kiss her.

The kiss was quick, and she broke it to help Robin pick up the tapes. Vickie mumbled something about heading to work and kissed Robin again before rushing out the door. Robin gaped at the door before turning to Steve, who's mouth was also opened. They moved towards each other at the same time. They screamed and started jumping at the same time. Steve hugged Robin tightly. She pulled back and placed her hands on his shoulders.

"Don't worry, Steve. If it happened for me then it's going to happen for you," Robin said. "That's how platonic soulmates work, right?"

"Duh," Steve rolled his eyes affectionately.

The bell above the door rang, and they turned their heads at the same time. Hopper walked in. Steve frowned. Was he really expecting Eddie to walk in and ask him out?

"Am I interrupting something?" Hopper asked.

"Vickie asked me out!" Robin blurted out.

"She the girl you kept going on about?" Hopper asked.

"Yeah," she said dreamily.

"I'm happy for you. You know, uh, that Gareth kid asked out Will," Hopper replied.

"Gareth and Will? I didn't even know they were friends," Steve said in surprise.

"Yeah, Gareth was upset about Eddie, sitting by his beside. Will was volunteering as usual and he comforted him," Hopper said.

"Will is such a precious angel," Robin said fondly.

"Yeah," Hopper said, a proud look on his face.

"Aw, proud dad," Robin said.

"Isn't Gareth a little bit older?" Steve asked.

"Only by two years," Hopper scoffed. "I like the guy. He's pretty respectful of Will and the three inches rule so I'll allow it for now."

"As long as it's not Mike, right?" Steve asked with a grin.

"Hey, I like the guy as long as none of my kids are dating him," Hopper said. "Which thankfully none are. I actually came here to talk to you, Steve."

"Look, I think of you like a dad and I like Joyce too much so I'm going to have to turn you down," Steve quipped and Robin snorted with laughter.

"Don't make me shoot you, kid," Hopper said, the corners of his mouth twitching. "I'd hate to kill a potential deputy."

"What?!" Steve and Robin asked.

"Look, as you know, we're kind of overrun over there even with Owens providing some agents as deputies," Hopper said. "I know you don't trust anyone of those goons, neither do I but we need the help and I kind of need to someone else that I trust around there. I know you guys have a thing about cops too but sometimes the best thing is to fix it from the inside, and I trust what you have to say. You're a good kid, with good instincts, and I think you would make a good cop. Just think about it."

"Well, then we wouldn't be working together," Robin said with wide eyes.

"You're welcome to help out around the station part time, kid. I'd hate to break up the set," Hopper said. "Your mom told me you were looking for a second job. What do you call each other again? Oh, yeah. Platonic soulmates."

"Platonic with a capital P!" they said, leaning their heads together.

"Let me confer with my soulmate for a moment," Robin said.

They moved to the back to the store and pressed their foreheads together, whispering. It was only a couple of minutes later before they were back again.

"We'll take the job!" Robin and Steve exclaimed.

Now, here they were several weeks later, and Steve had settled into his role as a deputy pretty well. It was hard work and a pretty good distraction from the fact that Eddie, as well as Max, wasn't awake. Now that school had let out for the summer and Robin had graduated, she was now working part-time at the station. The crowd outside the hospital was still sitting in wait for the day their lord and savior, Eddie Munson would awaken. Some days, they were quiet and settled. Other days, they grew quite rowdy, and there are more days now where they were restless. Hopper swore they would get bored eventually, and it wasn't like they were violent. . .well, aside from a rare few. So far, they were just eager to know that one of their own was okay, which Steve thought was kind of sweet. Steve was filling out paperwork at his desk, ignoring the balls of paper Robin was throwing at him, when Hopper came barreling out of his office looking pale.

"Chief?" Steve asked.

"They're awake," Hopper said.

Steve didn't hesitate to follow Hopper out the door, and Robin followed quickly behind him. They went to see Max first, and they her sitting up slightly, her new glasses on her face. Lucas, El, and Susan surrounded her bed.

"Did I miss anything?" Max asked and then grinned. "Ew, Steve, are you a cop? Disgusting."

"I'll forgive you for that, but so you know, once you are up and moving around, I'll have something to say," Steve said. "I might even get a lawyer because I believe that's slander, Mayfield."

"If your lawyer is Dustin, he's not going to do well against Nancy," Max laughed.

"Ooh, your lawyer is Nancy? Yeah, Dustin's toast," Robin said.

"You make a good cop, Steve," Max said softly. "If anyone can make those lazy cops get off their asses, it's you. You're an example of what a good cop should be, Steve."

"Thanks, Max," Steve said, looking touched. "Glad you're awake, kid."

"So, I have to ask. . .the full grown mustache. . . Are you trying to look like Hopper?" Max asked.

"What? No?!" Steve exclaimed.

"He does think of Hopper like a dad," Robin pointed out.

"Aww, Steve, do you want Hopper to be your dad?" Max teased.

"Leaving now," Steve said, rolling his eyes.

He made it to Eddie's room and stood in front of it. He was trembling in excitement, but he was also nervous. Before he became a cop, he was here almost every day holding his hand. In that time, he got to know Wayne and Eddie's friends. He also got to know Eddie some more from the stories they told. They were weary about him at first, but once they saw how much he cared, they accepted him easily. Once Steve got them talking about Eddie, they couldn't shut up. Steve took a deep breath and calmed his nerves. He pushed open the door and strolled in. The members of Hellfire and Corrded Coffin had surrounded Eddie's beside. Wayne wouldn't be there yet, seeing as he was stuck at work. Calling him had been the first thing he had done when he got to the hospital. Eddie was sitting up, grinning, and then he spotted Steve. Eddie frowned in confusion.

"Harrington! You've been working so hard we were starting to forget what you looked like," Jeff said. "Damn, baby, you fill out that uniform good."

Jeff started wolf whistling, and the other boys soon followed.

"Alright! Cut it out!" Steve laughed. "What did I say about flirting with me to get my grandmother's brownie recipe, Jeffrey?"

"To keep doing it," Jeff grinned.

"No, no, I did not say that besides, I know I'm not your type," Steve laughed.

"What? Since when is a man with good hair and meaty thighs not my type?" Jeff cackled.

"Argyle doesn't have a problem with it?" Steve asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Please, Argyle doesn't have a jealous bone in his body. Besides, so far, it's just sex," he grinned. "Really good sex."

"Wait. . .so, Steve knows about you? You're flirting with Steve. . .wait, are you friends with my friends?" Eddie asked.

"Actually, they're my friends now, too, Eddie. We share custody," Steve said proudly.

"Aw, Dad, we finally have a mother, and he makes the best brownies," Gareth said, leaning heavily onto Steve’s shoulder.

"Fuck off, Emerson," Steve laughed.

"By the way, since when are you a cop?" Eddie asked.

"Things around here have gotten a bit overwhelmed since you've been asleep," Steve shrugged.

"Yeah, Hawkins has gotten a lot more interesting since you decided to be lazy, Munson," Frankie said.

"It's very, very good," Gareth grinned.

"What the hell does that mean?" Eddie asked.

"You'll never believe it until you see it," Frankie said.

Hopper popped his head in for a moment and whispered in Steve's ear. He smirked and looked over at Eddie, who was staring at them in confusion. Steve wiggled his fingers at him. Hopper tipped his hat at Eddie before leaving. Steve leaned down and whispered in Gareth's ear, and he grinned, jumping up.

"Alright, boys," Gareth said. "Teddy wants to talk to us. He's probably quite eager for Eddie to start playing at the Hideout again!"

They said goodbye to him one by one, and then they were gone. Steve went to take Gareth's seat but was impeded by the crumbs he left behind. Steve started muttering as he turned around to clean it off, giving Eddie a clear view of his ass. Suddenly, Eddie's heart monitor started beeping a little louder. Steve whirled around.

"Eddie!" Steve exclaimed. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I think I accidentally, uh, messed with one of the wires," Eddie blushed.

"Okay," Steve frowned, looking at him, thoughtfully.

He turned around again and started swiping off the crumbs. Eddie's heart monitor went off again, and Steve turned around again.

"I swear! I am trying not to touch them!" Eddie shrieked. "Just sit down, man! Forget about the crumbs."

Confused by his reaction, Steve sat down, crossing his legs like he usually did. Eddie groaned and leaned his head back.

"Your uncle wanted to be here, but unfortunately, he missed a lot of days sitting by your beside, so he can't get away. The compensation money only went so far, and you guys also got a house out of it," Steve said, grinning.

"Wait, an actual house?!" Eddie asked.

"With your own rooms and everything," Steve replied. "Of course, you'll still be living next door to the Mayfields. I think Wayne insisted on it."

"Really?" Eddie asked.

"Yeah, Susan and Wayne have gotten friendly over the last few months," Steve shrugged.

"How friendly?" Eddie asked, narrowing his eyes.

"Well, he is the one who pulled Susan's head out of her own ass. Her drinking got worse after Max went into the coma. It nearly killed her. I was visiting with Wayne when I decided to go check in on Susan, and we found her unresponsive. When we finally got her sober enough, Wayne gave her quite the talking too," Steve said, and then he deepened his voice to sound like Wayne. "I ain't gonna yell at you, but I am going to tell you God's honest truth. I heard a lot about that husband and stepson of yours to know that you put that little girl through hell. You didn't lift a single finger to stop it. If you die now and that girl wakes up, it's always going to hang over her head that she wasn't enough for you to do better, that she deserved the crap you put her through. You owe it to her now to prove to her that she is enough and that you can do better. I expect you to be clean and waiting by her beside when she wakes up. Don't do it for me, don't do it for you. . .do it for her."

"Damn, that sounds exactly like Uncle Wayne," Eddie said, blinking back tears. "It worked?"

"Yeah, she's even therapy now working on her issues. She's really grateful for Wayne," Steve smiled.

"Good for her, I'm glad it worked on someone's parents," Eddie sighed.

"Yeah, Wayne's the best, I wish my dad was more like him," Steve said.

"Dads can be such assholes. Guess it's not just mine?" Eddie asked, and Steve shook his head. "So, when can I leave here? The food here is just awful. . .company isn't so bad, though."

"Once the doctor clears both you and Max, you guys should be able to go home by this evening," Steve said. "By the way, you are in luck. I'm the one who's going to be taking you home."

"Lucky me. . .so we won, huh?" Eddie asked.

"In more ways than one," Steve grinned.

Once they were ready to leave, Steve wheeled him out to the back of the hospital.

"I guess the protesters are out front," Eddie muttered.

"Something like that," Steve said and wheeled him over to his car.

He helped Eddie out of the wheelchair, catching him around the waist when the metalhead stumbled. They were really close now, their noses practically brushing up against each other's. Steve could feel Eddie's breath against his lips.

"Uh, I'd like to sit down," Eddie said awkwardly.

"Right, right," Steve said.

He cleared his throat and set Eddie in the passenger's seat. He pulled out of the hospital and frowned. For once, the usual people weren't there. Where the hell did they go? Steve got his answer a moment later when he saw them lined up on the sidewalk leaving the hospital. Eddie had to do a double take when he saw them walking down the street.

"What the fuck?! Steve. . .where the hell are we?" Eddie asked.

"We're in Hawkins, dude," Steve replied.

"Um, no the fuck we're not. What did I just see? There's more of them!" Eddie exclaimed as he stuck his head out the window.

"Oh my God! ls that Eddie Munson?!" A girl shrieks, and Eddie freezes. "EDDIE! I LOVE YOU!"

"Oh my God! Steve. She's chasing after the car like a goddamn dog! Steve! She's fucking fast! You tell me where the fuck we actually are right this instant, Steven, because there is no way this is fucking Hawkins! Are you - are you laughing at me? Steve!!" Eddie shrieked.

Steve pulled him down by his belt, and Eddie glared at him as he rolled up the window.

"Okay, so, after you slipped into your coma, the gates closed, and you were cleared of all charges, a lot of people started to leave. Most of them were uptight conservatives, of course. Word started spreading about you and how you were framed for murder. Slowly, it started off with the metalheads coming to town to support one of their own, then came the gays, the lesbians, and the bisexuals as well as a few transgender people. It was enough to kick out more uptight assholes but there are some who are refusing to leave. At first, they protested, but now they're slowly coming to terms with it. It's funny watching them have to sort of adjust to our way of life instead of the other way around," Steve said. "And these people, they all love you, Eddie."

"Our way of life?" Eddie asked.

"Well, for me and Robin, I don't know about you, but she's a lesbian and I'm bisexual," Steve said.

"Yeah, me too," Eddie said softly, and then his eyes widened. "I mean, bisexual, not a lesbian. Not there's anything wrong with being a lesbian but it's not who I am."

"Eddie, I got it," Steve said, laughing.

"So, what? After being nearly swallowed up by hell, Hawkins is a safe place to live now?" Eddie asked. "I woke up expecting to be chased out of my own hometown like they've been trying to do with me my whole life. This is just. . . What the fuck?"

Eddie looked down at his lap, his eyes filling up with tears. Once Steve managed to get away from Eddie's admirers, he pulled off to the side and parked onto the shoulder. He leaned over and pulled Eddie into his arms, hugging him gently. Eddie wrapped his arms around, his hands digging into his back as he cried.

"It's okay, I've got you. You're safe," Steve whispered in his ear.

Eddie clung to him as he calmed down. Once the tears stopped and his body was no longer shaking, he pulled away from him. Steve pulled a tissue out of the glove box and gave it to him. Eddie thanked him, and they drove the rest of the way to his house. They finally arrived at Eddie's house. It was in a secluded neighborhood, two houses at the end of the street, and blocked off by trees from the rest of the neighborhood, which meant that Eddie could probably play his music as loud as he wanted to. Although Max might have something to say about it. Eddie's house was a modest one story with white shudders and pale blue walls. The paint was peeling a bit, but overall, the house was nice, and it was a lot better than the trailer.

Eddie started struggling with his seat belt, which was perfect because Dustin's face appeared in the window, and the curtain pulled back. 'Not ready,' he mouthed. Steve sighed. That meant distracting Eddie. Steve grinned. He leaned over and started helping him with his seatbelt. They got it unstuck, but Steve didn't move from his position once the seat belt was removed. His face was rather close to Eddie's.

"There's something that I've been wanting to do since you woke up," Steve said.

"Kill me?!" Eddie yelped.

"What?! No!" Steve laughed. "Close, though."

He captured Eddie's perfectly plump lips with his, kissing him softly. At first, Eddie didn't respond, and Steve was worried that he misread the signals. He started to pull away when suddenly Eddie grabbed him the back of the neck and pulled him back in. Suddenly, his soft kiss had turned into a bruising, desperate kiss. Steve returned it with the same amount of enthusiasm, hand in Eddie's hair. Eddie broke the kiss, breathing heavily.

"Maybe we should take this inside," Eddie gasped.

"Or maybe we take this to the back seat, and you shackle me with my own handcuffs," Steve said and attached his lips to Eddie's neck.

Eddie groaned as Steve kissed his neck and let out a guttural moan when Steve started nipping at it, his mustache tickling his neck.

"You're killing me, Steve," Eddie said. "I fucking knew you would. Robin?"

Steve broke away and looked at him.

"Okay, I have to say calling me by my best friend's name when I'm trying to put the moves on you is a little weird," Steve said.

"What? No! She's just popped her head out of my new front door, looked at us, rolled her eyes, and went back in. What is going on?" Eddie asked.

"You'll see, come on," Steve said and climbed out of the car before helping Eddie.

"You were distracting me," Eddie said, narrowing his eyes at him.

"I really did want to kiss you," Steve said sheepishly.

They started walking towards when Eddie stopped him.

"You threw me a welcome home party, didn't you?" Eddie asked.

"I might have, for both you and Max," Steve said. "Planned the whole thing while you were sleeping."

Eddie grinned at Steve and wrapped his arms around his neck, kissing him deeply. He broke it, leaning his forehead against Steve’s.

"This is the sweetest thing anyone has ever done for me," Eddie said and paused. "By the way, you're absolutely killing me with that uniform. It should be illegal for anyone to look this good. You're going to have to arrest yourself because, baby, you're breaking quite a few laws."

Steve giggled and kissed him, not caring if anyone else was watching them. They broke apart when they heard Max's front door open. She came out and started walking towards Eddie's house, leaning on her cane. She narrowed her eyes at them, looking much like a bug with her new glasses. Her mother followed behind her.

"Dustin called and said he wanted us to come over," Max said. "He threw us a party, didn't he?"

"I'm not saying anything," Eddie said, and Max rolled her eyes. "It was all Steve!"

"Nice," Steve scoffed.

"Thanks, Steve," Max said softly.

She wrapped her arm around his waist, hugging him. She leaned against him and let him help her inside. His free hand wrapped around Eddie's. They all walked into the small but spacious living room where everyone jumped out with noisemakers. Steve, Eddie, and Max jumped. Max stuffed her face into Steve’s side.

"Surprise!" Dustin shrieked. "Welcome home!"

"Oh my god!" Eddie exclaimed. "I am so surprised!"

"Oh, Goddamnit! Steve told you, didn't he?" Dustin exclaimed and Eddie shrugged, grinning.

"He guessed," Steve shrugged.

"This is still pretty nice, Henderson. Thank you all," Eddie said, and he started hugging everyone. "Max is crying, by the way."

"Fuck off!" Max exclaimed.

Steve watched as the party took off, and Eddie mingled with everyone. For the first time in a long time, Steve felt at peace, and he felt safe, especially when he looked at Eddie. . . When he looked at what this town had become. At some point during the mingling, Eddie came over and nestled himself into Steve’s arms. Yeah, everything was perfect.

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kindnessoverperfection · 9 months

Text

I want to break down a common point of conflict when addressing NPD stigma.

A lot of hangups people have tend to be along the lines of "but I DO see a lot of people with actual NPD who are acting in toxic or abusive ways".

This will be kind of long, so bear with me.

Point #1: People are way more likely to be diagnosed if they exhibit "stereotypical" symptoms.

There's this image of NPD as a disorder that is only present in those with patterns of destructive behavior towards others. Many therapists have this conception. (Shockingly, the mental health field is not perfect & without stigma.)

Gonna copy-paste this here from my other blog (so forgive me if you've seen it before), because it's a good example.

Three people are criticized at work. Their boss yells at them for their performance in front of everyone. Person A gets mad and defensive. They yell back, using cutting remarks as a way to try and ease the distress they feel. Person B acts really mature and responsible the whole time, nodding along and agreeing and promising to do better, just desperate to maintain and improve their status. Desperate to be liked. Later they go home and handle their distress through self-destructive means, and spend the next few months overworking themself to the point of illness. Person C doesn't seem to respond much at all. They go quiet and seem distant. They don't lash out or lash in, but for the next month or so, their productivity drops. They simply aren't able to focus on work or self-care, no matter how hard they try. The stress is overwhelming. All three of these people have the same root issues, but only the first would be labeled a narcissist. Outwards behaviors and presentations don't reflect the pain, distress, and difficulties with life that are underlying them.

So, three main things happen.

There ends up being a higher rate of people with destructive behaviors who are diagnosed with NPD

The people who don't particularly exhibit behaviors and are considered ""too nice to have it"" are overlooked entirely (and never get any sort of help for their underlying issues, yayyy)

People are more likely to be more honest about "ugly" symptoms / symptoms that are frowned down upon than they are in other mental health communities.

(Also some people decide to act super edgy about it, which is annoying but here we are. Some of them are trolls.)

(And while I'm at it, some people are misdiagnosed with NPD because a psych sees someone who committed a violent crime and is like "uhh slap them with the Evil Asshole™ disorders!! no further thought given.")

Point #2: People who have messed up are not inhuman monsters who deserve no help or support

While I do think it's important for people to understand that patterns of toxic behaviors aren't the ONLY way NPD can present, I'm not going to let the conversation stop at "some of us are nice though!!"

Human beings aren't RPG characters who can be sorted into "monster" or "ally". Every single person has done something hurtful, has messed up, exhibits some sort of behavior that puts strain on their relationships sometimes.

So I'll bullet point some aspects of this that need to be talked about.

People without NPD also commonly exhibit toxic behaviors, but people ignore that nowadays. Either they armchair diagnose anyone who's slightly rude, or they only focus on it in pwNPD and ignore it in themselves or others. NTs can be jerks too, and they're probably less likely to acknowledge it than pwNPD who are constantly watching and checking themselves and analyzing their behaviors and attempting to do better.

Assuming that NPD makes someone abusive doesn't help anyone. Can it impact behaviors, and make it more difficult for people to be self-aware? Of course. But an important step in healing from any mental health condition (especially personality disorders, ime) is realizing that you're not inherently ""bad"", and that you can take responsibility for your actions and learn to deal with things in constructive ways. Just going "NPD makes people bad, full stop"- other than being a mean shitty thing to say- absolves people of guilt and asserts that there's no reason for them to try and improve.

Yes, it's okay for people to hate their abusers. Their abuser. Not an entire community of people who happen to (maybe) share a trait with them.

Building on the above point, people tend to go in defense mode when they hear things like "pwNPD who have acted in toxic ways can learn to improve their behavior", "people shouldn't be saying awful things about folks with this condition", etc. because they automatically try to apply this to their abuser. Interpersonal situations are very different from society-wide mental health access. No, don't stay with your abuser expecting them to change, and don't hold onto the hope that they will. No, don't censor yourself or your hatred or anger towards them. Just don't make blanket statements about a disorder that they may or may not have- blame their abusive actions, not their mental health.

"I hate you for your abusive actions and the harm that you caused me." =/= "I hate a group of people because of an inherent unchangeable part of them that's tied directly to severe childhood trauma they suffered. Because of it, they're evil and unlovable and are incapable of change. They're inhuman and will never experience real connection with others." ..........See the difference??

Even if there were a disorder with a 100% rate of toxic douchey behaviors, I'd want the conversation around it to be changed. I'd want different words to be used to divide up the spaces and conversations and resources, so that survivors of abusive or toxic behavior can get help, but that the disorder still has space to be treated. Otherwise, there are zero resources for healing. Nothing is being done to help these people or solve the issue. They're just told they may as well not try. They're blocked from healthcare entirely, despite how the entire point of being diagnosed with a condition is supposed to be to treat it.

There's a wide range of people who have NPD- it presents in many different ways, a person who has it may or may not exhibit harmful behaviors- but no one deserves to be denied treatment or told they're unlovable because of a condition they have that was formed from trauma.

Speak out against abusive behavior. Don't destroy healthcare for a medical condition.

#actuallynpd #npd stigma #narcissistic personality disorder

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suzukiblu · 5 months

Text

excerpt from the one where Tim Drake goes to an alternate reality and decides to get his other self laid via the local Kon's bisexual awakening:

"Hey, remember when you saved my life earlier?" Tim asks.

"Yeah, kinda," Kon replies in amusement. "Seeing as it was about two point five seconds after you rigged the evil alien robot army to self-destruct and helped save our entire literal reality's life, so I was definitely paying attention."

"Flatterer," Tim says with a smirk even as he waves him off. The self-destruct function wasn't even that hard to hack, comparatively. That time he'd downloaded Lex Luthor's active IP files from his personal office while the asshole had been on his damn computer–now that'd been tricky. Interdimensional alien invaders barely compare. And the Brainiac incident still gives him stress migraines when he thinks about it for too long.

Metropolis sucks and Tim frankly has no idea how his own Kon can stand the place.

But like, getting off-topic here.

"Well, I was gonna say you should let me pay you back for that," he continues. "But since you bring it up I'll also accept a show of gratitude on behalf of your reality, whichever gets you off harder.”

Kon laughs, because he is apparently adorable enough to have assumed that was a joke. Precious little moron, Tim thinks fondly.

"You know, you're a lot less uptight than our version of you is," Kon says, grinning down at Tim before flashing Tim's other self a smirk. "No offense, Rob. Dude's clearly just doing more yoga than you or something. Maybe drinking more tea? Taking the occasional bubble bath?"

"Silly me, if only I'd invested in more bath bombs in my life," Tim's other self says dryly.

"It's probably my sex life, actually," Tim himself puts in with an easy shrug. Turns out when you stop pretending you don't have a ridiculously high libido and actually just indulge the thing, a lot of life's little annoyances become a lot easier to handle. Go figure. "Plus my boyfriend Bernard is really great, just his entire existence does wonders for my mood in general and he also makes me eat real food on occasion and monitors my caffeine intake much more reliably than I'm capable of doing on my own. The man is a living antidepressant and I don't even mean that in a fucked-up way, he's just that good."

"Boyfriend?" Kon blinks at him, then puts on another grin. It takes, Tim cannot help but notice, exactly two beats longer than his real grin would've. "Ohhhhh, okay, so the problem is just that you're not getting laid hard enough?"

"It is not," Tim's other self says dubiously, watching Kon just a little bit warily and obviously worried about his potential reaction to the word "boyfriend". Well, Tim never claimed to be emotionally intelligent about Kon, so no surprise his other self is also a dumbass there.

"It kinda is, actually," he tells his other self. "I was tracking my cortisol levels the last time I went on a solo away mission and let's just say they were . . . concerning? Like really concerning. Like by the time I got back I was kiiiiind of convinced I was going to need to go on anti-anxiety meds again. But then I jumped my Kon in the Titans Tower med bay instead and that pretty much solved the problem."

Kon . . . pauses, sort of. Tilts his head. Tim's other self looks a lot warier.

"'Jumped'," Kon repeats carefully. "Like . . . what, you dragged him to the gym to spar or something?"

"Like I blew his back out so hard that when he came his TTK fritzed out and disassembled my recovery bed," Tim clarifies helpfully. "It really helped with the cortisol levels issue."

Kon blinks. Tim's other self looks pained, but also desperately envious. Tim would also be desperately envious if their situations were reversed and so does not blame him for said envy in the slightest.

"I thought you said you had a boyfriend?" Kon says after a moment, sounding a little odd in a very telling way. Or at least very telling to Tim, anyway.

As is the way that he's not looking at Tim's other self at all anymore.

"Open relationship," Tim says. "Also Bernard thinks you're stupidly hot and really likes hearing about the kind of stuff you let me do to you. I've actually been debating inviting you over for his birthday so he can watch us live for once but I haven't asked you yet."

"What, so your Kon is the side chick?" Kon jokes, awkwardly putting on another just barely belated grin.

"More like my kept boy, functionally speaking, but he's having a 'weird about commitment' phase right now so I've just been making a lot of sugar baby jokes to soften him up," Tim replies with a shrug. It's only sort of been working, but it has been working, and he's willing to take his time on it. It's not fair to expect Kon to only be easy, after all. "Long-term goal is to marry Bernard and ideally get Kon to 'live-in boyfriend' status somewhere in there, but that would also require him not being weird about commitment and also figuring out how well he and Bernard get along in the same space, so we'll just have to see how that one goes."

"Uh," Kon says. "Why?"

"Because you are incredibly important to me and also look like a very horny Renaissance sculptor made you out of calacatta marble," Tim tells him matter-of-factly, gesturing meaningfully at him. "Frankly it's criminal that you ever put clothes on."

#timkon #tim drake #dc robin #kon el #conner kent #superboy #rinfic #wip: interdimensional whoring for timkon #long post #somehow I still haven't written any sex scenes for this fic #just a lot of Tim terrorizing his alternate self and flustering alternate Kon #'Tim'-orizing his alternate self?

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greenunoreversecard · 2 months

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HEYYEYHEY CAN I REQUEST LLOYD (ninjago) HEADCANONS PLEASEEEE (ty :3)

A/N: Ofc!I'll do general character ones, as well as x reader ones :) hope ye likey likey:pp

Lloyd, The Greenest and Geekest mf.

General character headcanons:

Half Japanese half Chinese

His hair is box blonde dye and you cannot change my mind.

Left handed

Severely dyslexic and hands off all scroll reading and just reading oriented tasks to kai.

Def gen z vibes. Like, the others give off more inbetween z and millenial, so they dont always get his humor. And sometimes he uses that to his advantage and "Speaks in code" (uses as much slang as possible)

Has LED lights in his room set to forest green.

Has given himself a smiley face tattoo.

Cried over a dead goose once.

OK, just to preface i see cole as a stoner of Sorts and uses the excuse "it gets me closer to my element"

With that in mind cole let lloyd try it and now sometimes when he is told to unwind, of feels like he needs to take a chill pill he and Cole spark up

in the beginning of his leader ship role, he used to Say;"kick ass and take names" and if things went wrong he had the fuck it we ball mindset, but got better with time. There are still times they wing it, though.

if he isnt in his gi he almost exclusively wears his pajamas (aka a Hoodie, tshirt and sweats)

Vv tired, and now has a raging addiction to energy drinks due to his lack of Sleep.

He used to eat worms as a kid bc he Thought he it was evil.

Has a eyebrow piercing, and wants a tongue piercing.

Wears "reading" glasses, that he should technically wear all the time because he can't see up close and has a astigmatism,, but he says yolo. Zane then make him contacts after he almost ran into a moving blade and got his head severed.

Adhd and OCD, as well as the normal line up (anxiety, depression, cptsd)

Lloyd in a relationship:

Hes very distant in the beginning, it'll take time to warm up to you.

He tends to be orage cat vibes.

On the cat trend, he gets close for a bit Before becoming distant. Going through waves of affection, kinda.

He hasn't had like, any good relationships in his life so he tries to "protect" himself when he feels he gets to close to you, and so he pulls away.

He does the fuckboy face when your sad bc it makes you laugh, as well as That weird dice roll

He actually does the face/dice roll combo whenever he Sees you as he walks over, it's an inside joke now

primary giving love language: acts of service and quality time

Primary receiving love language: gifts and words of affirmation. But physical touch is also high up there.

Also, not expensive gifts. He hates those. Give him a stick you saw on a walk that made you think of him. He'll cherish it forever. And maybe cry.

He will cry.

will make noises at you and expects a noise in response or he'll be sad.

Also randomly bites you. He's a nommer

also sends you memes throughout the day.

As well as random pictures with the caption;"BABY LOK THIS IS S. US IF WE WHERE *insert whatever item here*

Called you babe, baby, love, shitface, asshole.

Expect kind and loving gentle bullying.

Doesnt know how to express his emotions to just expect him to come up to you, lightly shake your shoulders and aggressively say;"I love you bitch.i ain't Evea gon stop lovin you. Bitchhhhhhh" (vine reference)

Sends you .5 of everyone, himself included. He's addicted to Taking them. You will not get out of it.

Also sometimes just walks around in nyas stilettos for fun.

You two have fashion shows.

You also take over the Living room sometimes and build giant ass forts to watch shitty reality tv in and make fun oF The people

Overall, once he realizes you won't leave he's the most funniest loving chaotic guy.

But expect it to take a hot minute for him to realsie this

give him time,, but also have some deep talks..

Let him vent

and for the love of God don't hurt the baby's heart.

Expect inside jokes

#no beta we die like jason todd #greeny's inbox #Ninjago x reader #lloyd garmadon #lloyd montgomery garmadon #lego ninjago #Lloyd garmadon x reader #Ninjago x you #Male reader #gn reader #ninjago lloyd

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fadedmunson · 4 months

Text

rose blood | r. sanchez

pairings ; rick sanchez x gn!reader (no use of y/n)

summary ; MAJOR SPOILERS ending of 7x05 (unmortricken) when you try to be there for rick's numb state

genre ; insanely sad angst ;( bit of fluff at the end, established relationship (?) no labels on it but you're close

notes ; i've loved this show for quite so i'm quite surprised i haven't written for r&m sooner. use of curse words

wc ; 0.7k sooo pretty short

"morty, you can’t come! evil morty, stay out of my way! gonna kill my nemesis! rick out!"

that's all you manage to hear as you get down to the basement a couple second too late.

you pause right as you opened the door to his lab.

"wait did rick say he was going after prime?" your eyes widen and you began to tense up at the thought of rick no longer thinking with his head.

you pause your thinking when you see two morty's, your morty and one with an eye-patch.

"-oh hey evil morty, didn't think i'd ever see you here." you simpered

his eyes narrowed, "trust me, theres alot i would've done to avoid being here in the first place."

"you’re an asshole." your morty grumbled

"well, yeah. I’m not “good” morty."

he opens a yellow portal to follow rick you assume.

"come or don’t. i don’t care."

you get snapped out of your haze

"actually, fuck this. if he wants to go out there and get himself killed he can be my guest." you quickly turn you head and leave the basement sublevel.

you're not his babysitter, but you're still a little worried for the old man. It's not everyday you finally find the person who killed your daughter and wife.

you quickly head up to his room and try to collect all of your thoughts

you begin pacing around the room as your heart rate picks up

rick found prime, morty and evil morty followed him, is evil morty going to kill prime or rick?, why is evil morty even there?, and is this all a trap?

to distract yourself, you take a nap on his bed cot to just put a pause on everything for now.

sure it's uncomfortable, but it'll do

your quick 30 minute napped turned into three hours and you wake up in a sweaty, thirsty daze.

you walk into the kitchen, greet beth and grab a bottle of water

you walk into the garage in time to see rick and morty just back from their battle

morty smiles and waves at you

"crazy fucking day today haha, jeez."

you gave him a light smile and ruffled his hair

once he was out of the room you got a good look at rick and your smile immediately dissipated.

he look disheveled, covered in a shit-ton of blood (a mixture of his and prime's) a broken nose, black eyes, and scratches littering his body

that didn't phase you, what did was the emotionless look on his face

he turned to you, but it didn't look like he was fully there.

"rick," your voice is tight

you don't even know how to articulate yourself, you've never seen him like this.

"that's a lot of blood." you awkwardly chuckle.

"yeah," his voice is toneless.

you quickly reach out to hold his hand, but the quick flinch withheld you.

"well, what are you gonna do now?"

he just looked up from the floor and shrugged his shoulders.

"i can stay, if you want."

he stays silent

you quickly move to sit on the floor against his counters and you pat the space next to you.

he moves to sit next to you and closes his eyes in the comfortable silence.

you move to rest your head in his chest and kiss the parts of his hand without any blood on them while intertwining them with yours.

"i'll stay right here with you, rick. you don't have to be alone."

you hear his body shake as he tries to quietly but violently cries into your hair.

you turn to hold him in your arms as you let the sobs turn into sniffles and then into stuttering breaths.

he grabs onto you like he'll lose you at any moment, and you kiss his tears away while whispering "we're okay," and "i'm not going anywhere."

"can we stay like this for a little?" he quietly rasped out

your mouth curved into a smile "of course, but after this we should get you cleaned up." you open your eyes to stroke his cheek and lock lips.

#rick and morty x reader #rick sanchez #rick c137 #rick sanchez x reader #rick sanchez x you #unmortricken #rick and morty fanfiction #rick sanchez fanfic #rick sanchez x y/n

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hero-israel · 3 months

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Breathe.

It is normal to feel pain, alarm, and sorrow, as we see what our world has turned into, as we hear what so many want to do to us. It wouldn't be human to feel any other way. I've been deeply involved in this issue for many years and truly did not expect so much of the goyische world to immediately go full werewolf on the thrill of seeing Jews tortured and massacred in high-res. Many of them are lost to us, and as far as I am concerned, there is nothing they could ever, ever do to regain my trust. They would never even think to give an apology, and even if they did, I would never accept it.

It makes matters all the worse that Israel - this age's morph of the reason to hate us - has for the last ~16 months been run by objectively evil and horrible people. A few of them have talked publicly about "encouraging voluntary resettlement" or claim to have held negotiations with African states. In all cases, less vile people from the same government have immediately denied those stories and said there is no such policy, no such talks, it is all just suggestions. When you have a government run by Internet trolls, criminals, and terrorist sympathizers, that is how they talk. There is no imaginable mechanism for any of this - it is impossible to believe any country would go along with it, or that it is taken seriously by anyone beyond whichever racist asshole is thinking out loud next to a reporter at that time. But even as idle blather, it is immensely dangerous. It represents a threshold we cannot cross. We cannot - as you said - "make that look good." The best we can do is recognize that this particular evil racist doesn't actually have the authority or method for doing it, he's just jerking off, the Attorney-General told them to shut up and stop advocating crimes.

There have been so many times when the world went utterly batshit about Israeli actions that were totally innocuous, about rumors that never even happened. I talk about it here all the time. Part of me is hoping that is an element of this case, even as I'm afraid, this time, it might not be.

And as I'm also afraid that things will get even worse for us if, as looks very likely, Trump wins next time.

So it is okay to feel utterly terrible about things.

And yet, we still have to breathe.

We are alive because Jewish people got through much worse times than these, with far fewer resources and allies than we have today. Everything we know, everything we worry about now, exists because even though They Tried To Kill Us, We Survived.

Confront reality - without despair. We are facing bad times and they may get worse, but we will get through them.

#israel #american jews #jumblr

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antianakin · 19 days

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Pong Krell. It’s universally agreed that he deserved worse than what he got and I get that. I just wished we got to see what he was like before he Fell. Did he always hate clones, was it gradual? Did he suspect something off and went over paranoid?

I’ll say this one and I’ll say this probably a thousand more times but I wished the creators focused on more details with characters. It’s absolutely fascinating that they created a Jedi that Fell but did nothing with it besides outright evil.

How other Jedi reacted to learning that a fellow Jedi betrayed everyone? How did the Republic?

I just wished they did more with him than just, yeah that dude was a dick and killed clones.

Yeah, it's one of the things I don't like as much about TCW, the extremely episodic nature of it means that there really is never any build-up to anything or lasting impact from anything. Unless it's happening within one of the 2-4 episode arcs, we RARELY get to see any kind of build-up or fallout. It's one of the major issues with Barriss, too, we see her ONCE in season 2 and she's calm, kind, methodical, and selfless. And then three seasons later in season 5 she's suddenly ruthless, selfish, doubting everything and everyone, merciless, etc. There is NO BUILD UP to that radical 180 to her character and there's no real exploration of how Ahsoka really feels about that particular betrayal afterwards, the focus in later episodes after the Wrong Jedi focuses only on Ahsoka feeling betrayed by the COUNCIL and her feelings about that. Nothing since TCW has ever touched it either (Rebels, Mandalorian, the Ahsoka show). Satine's death never really comes up again after it happens aside from Bo-Katan being an asshole. Obi-Wan goes from being totally fucked up about Maul coming back to being chill enough to take on Maul and Savage alone and winning without us getting to see him actually deal with those emotions.

Pong Krell and the Umbara arc IN GENERAL falls into this category easily (so do the Zyggeria and the Deception arc tbh). Krell is such a basic evil character, there's so little nuance to him and we never get to see the Jedi react to the revelation that one of their own turned at all. Dooku turned after he had already left the Order as far as any of them really know, but Krell was still IN the Order when he decided to betray them and it would've been really interesting to see the impact of that on them. It would've been ESPECIALLY interesting to explore that more during the Wrong Jedi arc in particular in how the Jedi feel like they can't trust their own people not to betray them anymore after Dooku and Krell.

Krell is presented with like. Zero nuance. He is just unequivocally evil and despite Anakin greeting him in a friendly way at the beginning, the visuals tell you this dude's no good right from his first appearance. There isn't really any chance that he's going to be a good guy at all. So all we are left with are headcanons.

And I remember discussing my Krell headcanons somewhere, but I think it might've been on a Discord server I've since left, so I unfortunately cannot find them again. So I'll try to remember them and immortalize them here, I guess.

Here's the thing about Krell. NO ONE suspects him. So he cannot be overtly acting like a bigoted asshole from the jump at any point, he HAS to be acting in such a way that it's not trickling out to the other clones and to the Jedi themselves that Krell is an absolute monster. Even Fives takes a moment to decide that Krell is suspicious and only brings up Krell's casualty numbers after he sees Krell's behavior for a minute and combines that knowledge with what he's now personally experiencing and is starting to come to conclusions based on that. He doesn't go into the relationship thinking Krell is worse than any other Jedi already.

And based on what we know of EVERY OTHER FALLEN JEDI (Dooku, Anakin, Barriss), they didn't start out as monsters. Dooku was a highly respected Jedi Master who seems to have had a really positive relationship with Yoda and Qui-Gon and simply became disillusioned with the Senate and his care for the people of the galaxy got twisted into something darker over time. Barriss was kind, selfless, compassionate, brave, and resourceful, and it was the war that caused her to start letting her fears and pain consume her into turning on the Jedi. Anakin was kind and spent years having his fears and doubts twisted into selfishness and greed and darkness that allowed him to justify murder and genocide for power. So it wouldn't make sense to me that Pong Krell wouldn't fall into the same pattern where he was once kind and good and selfless and brave, but that the circumstances surrounding the war caused him to lose faith and fall.

My headcanon is that he lost an entire battalion early in the war, much like we see happen to Plo Koon during the Malevolence arc and that that loss and failure just BROKE him. Krell DID care about the clones, he cared about his men, and he FAILED them all. And I think that he saw all of these clones dying by the dozens in all of the other battalions and instead of choosing to let go of his pain and fear and lean into his compassion, he chose to distance himself from them entirely to make it hurt less. If he didn't care about the clones, if he just saw them as the cannon fodder that the Senate treated them all as, then it would hurt less when they died. Maybe the Senate itself even dragged him over the coals for that initial loss. Or perhaps it was the opposite, maybe most of his battalion was killed, but it ultimately ended in a victory anyway because they were forced to just keep going despite the consequences. And so Krell decides to enter this mindset where he is disillusioned with the Senate and just CANNOT allow himself to care about the clones, because it won't change what the Senate is going to do to them anyway, so he may as well just treat them the same way.

And this wouldn't have happened overnight. It wouldn't have been a sudden 180 where he decided he was just going to treat them like shit. But he maybe decided to put some more professional distance between himself and his new battalion, not get close to them, not use their names (although he still knows them, still remembers them all). Maybe one day they're in a tricky situation and all of his options are bad, he HAS to sacrifice some of his men in order to salvage the situation at all, and it's a choice between a full retreat that he KNOWS the Senate won't take well, or sacrificing the men to achieve the victory. So he sacrifices the men. It's not an entire battalion, it's not even a whole company, but it's more than it would've been if he'd retreated. Maybe next time, there's a choice between going back to save some of the men even if it poses a risk to his own life or the mission or something, and he chooses not to go back for them because the mission is more important, or he rationalizes that his life is more important as the Jedi General. And it's just more and more little decisions like that that add up over time to being able to see the clones as nothing more than tools.

The disillusionment with the Senate leads to him sort-of agreeing with things Dooku and the Separatists have said and he can look at the war and realize that it's entirely possible that the Republic is going to LOSE, and he CANNOT be the one who loses again, so maybe he starts bouncing around the concept of maybe switching sides. And of course initially he rejects the idea. He's a Jedi, he won't just abandon the Republic, he can't be a traitor, who in the Separatist side would ever trust him anyway. But once that seed is planted, it doesn't go away and it keeps coming back up and he keeps finding ways to rationalize why it might be a good idea and then deciding not to do it over and over again. Until one day, he can't convince himself that it's a bad idea or that it wouldn't work. He tells himself it's the ONLY option, if he doesn't change sides then he's dead. But Dooku WON'T trust him unless he can prove that he's not on the Republic's side, so he has to come up with a plan to gain their trust. And what better way to earn that trust than to ensure a Separatist victory in an important campaign by double-crossing the Republic.

And once he's chosen to go down that path, it's even EASIER to stop caring about the clones because, well, they're all dead anyway. The Republic is going to lose, the clones are all dead men walking no matter what, so why bother caring about them or trying to keep them alive? He can't lose so often that the Jedi or the Senate become suspicious of him, of course, but it's REALLY easy then to get to Umbara and treat the clones like crap and turn them against each other and intentionally try to get them all killed. They're dead anyway, he's not the one killing them really, is he, the Senate is, the Jedi are, the war is. They were dead from the moment they were created in that test tube because they were created for this specific purpose. It's not his fault.

And much like Barriss turns against the Jedi in part because she did LOVE the Jedi and was devastated by what she saw happening to them and the pain of seeing her people forced to become something they were never supposed to be, as much as her actions were intended as some kind of message to try to sort-of save the Jedi from a course of action she saw as their downfall, I think that Krell turns on the clones because at some point he DID care about them. A lot. And that care became his downfall, the pain at what was being done to them just absolutely gutted him and it threw him down a path that ultimately led him to turn against the very people whose deaths had hurt him so badly just a few short years ago.

Krell might not have been the most effusive or emotional person prior to the war or anything, he might've been a more reserved person similar to Mace or Dooku or Luminara, but I think he probably was a perfectly good Jedi who was kind and selfless and compassionate once upon a time.

And none of the headcanons above have even touched what his relationships with other JEDI must have been like. It's just as possible that he did have friends and people he considered family among the Jedi. Maybe he had a padawan once at some point. And maybe all of those people had died by the time we get to Umbara. Maybe he had to watch a lot of the people he was closest to just fall like flies, and so it starts feeling like nothing matters. Maybe one of the Jedi who died on Geonosis was a former padawan of his, but Krell himself obviously wasn't there and the pain of THAT loss and the guilt he feels at not having been there (even though this padawan had been knighted for a while and there was a good reason Krell wasn't there that day) just sticks with him, too, and he never quite manages to let that go, either.

I think a lot of people choose to just headcanon Krell as having just always been kind-of an asshole even when he was a Jedi, but that doesn't work for me. If Krell was always an asshole, I feel like the Jedi would've stepped in at some point before the war even HAPPENED and tried to manage that situation. And it doesn't match up with the way pretty much every other fallen Jedi has ever been written, where they were GOOD PEOPLE once upon a time who saw awful things happen that they couldn't stop or had an awful thing happen TO them that they couldn't stop and the pain of that experience consumes them to the point that they spiral into darkness as a result. Krell should be the same way, which means he likely was a perfectly good normal Jedi before the war. He would've been kind, he might've been good with younglings (he's tall, maybe he was the one the younglings went to all the time for piggy back rides, maybe he often taught dual wielding to padawans who asked because of how clearly proficient he is at it), he might've taught a student of his own successfully, he would've been wise and selfless and compassionate, he would've loved the Jedi and the people of the galaxy.

Like, to be frank, if Tales of the Jedi HAD to explore a fallen Jedi story, they should've explored Krell instead of Dooku. Dooku has been explored before, we know quite a lot about him and his motivations and his backstory, but Krell, as you noted, is left a mystery and is stuck in the realm of being just purely evil for the sake of the story they were telling in this one arc. Krell needed more nuance in a way Dooku just did not.

#star wars #pong krell #tcw #the clone wars #umbara #umbara arc #krell

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jaysbiceps · 8 months

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Okay idk why but heeseung seems like the type to get incredibly turned on if he sees u struggling to walk a night after sex-a-thon with him. Like u r moaning and groaning cuz u r so sore cuz of how rough this motherfucker was on u but it's literally making him hard. And if u voice it out "it's literally ur fault I can barely walk" he's gonna pounce on u, ur legs be damned

OKAY WHY DO I LOVE THIS SO MUCH? I WANNA KISS YOUR BRAIN CMERE or maybe dm me idm

Hee is so into you and is almost addicted to you and your pussy, he gets ecstatic from tasting and fucking you, he's obsessed literally

So when there's a day off, you know by default it'll be a "sex-a-thon" as you said haha, and you're in for a long night, probably with seven playing in the background sjhsksha

He takes you in every position and cums in you so much you might actually have a little tummy bulge🤭

The next morning you wake up, feeling a bit of a sharp pain in your lower half, you wake him up so he helps you, he'd resist at first but once he hears "wake up you asshole, I can't move because you literally fucked me like an animal in heat", he gets up a little too fast, his eyes turning evil and he smirks looking at you, he hugs you and lies down again, pressing your back to his chest, "was I too rough? Sorry baby" he says it with all the fake sympathy he could muster, getting close to you so you feel his hard on pressing against your ass, you hurriedly get out of his arms and the bed but regret it instantly, "YOU ARE HARD AGAIN? YOU'RE UNBELIEVABLE" he starts laughing so loud at you getting dressed while groaning and cursing him and his monster cock

You go to make breakfast while limping, still groaning and mad??? at him, he then comes close to you, hugging you from the back, "need any help?", "yeah, you wrecked me so I'd appreciate it if you took things in your hands from here" you start moving towards the chair but he corners you on the counter, whispering in your ear "do you know how hard it is for me to hear how good I fucked you last night and not wanna recreate it again?", you choke on your saliva, not finding words, he pushes you over the counter, "heeseung please, so sore, can't" you pout, he kisses your pout away "please baby, just one more round, hmmm? Promise I'll be gentle" LIAR your mind screams at you

You hesitate but he starts kissing and sucking on your neck, he knows your weaknesses, " hee, please"

He looks at you, waiting for a sign to stop, "please what? Want me to stop? Cause I-" "NO", he laughs at you "my little slut is insatiable, just like her daddy, hmmm?" you turn into a mush in his hands after this and end up being fucked senseless on the kitchen counter by him, and it turns into 4 days of immobility, you only come to a recovery because he had to do some schedules away for a couple of days🫠

#📝: answers #😋: anon #I like your brain #SMEXY #heeseung hard hours #heeseung smut #enhypen hard hours #enhypen smut

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tanadrin · 2 months

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Are you totally against the concept of evil?

In the sense that "evil" is a value judgement, being "against the concept of evil" is like being "against the concept of stinky." People have their opinions about what they think is evil and what they think is not, just like they have their opinions about what they think smells good and what they think smells bad. Indeed, in this sense "evil" is just a particularly strong condemnation of things we find morally bad.

That said, as a value judgement, I don't find it a very useful one. Even among people who profess to want to think deeply about difficult moral questions, when the word "evil" is raised, it is being used as a thought-terminating cliche, a signpost that says "I am unwilling to be challenged on this opinion further." Like, I see this a lot in rat-adj types here on tumblr who would balk at you shutting down a conversation on sexual ethics or economics or recreational drug use with a cry of "evil!" using it the exact same way when it comes to their own ethical bugbears.

And the reason that a cry of "evil!" shuts down conversations more than even other pure value judgements is that it doesn't appeal to anything, except an affective sense of ethics. If I say (for example) "legalizing weed would be bad, because of consequentialist concerns X, Y, and Z," or "foreign military intervention is bad, because we ought to adopt a strong deontological rule against violating other states' sovereignty," then you might disagree, but at least there is a conceptual basis for our disagreement. If we want to have a conversation about it, we could; it might be a frustrating conversation where neither convinces the other, but we can at least understand each other in principle, even if we continue to disagree quite strongly.

But if I say, "we cannot legalize weed, because doing drugs is evil," or "we should disband the American military, because the Pentagon is evil," what is there to discuss? We're no longer talking about beliefs about the world, just attitudes. If someone thinks I am or believe something that is evil, what am I supposed to do with that? Yelling "you are evil," or "you believe evil things" is not going to change anybody's mind. It's not going to shock them out of their moral complacency, they're not gonna think "oh, this person think I am a bad person, I should really care what they think." Of course not! They're gonna think "oh, this person is an asshole," or, even less productively, "no, you're evil!", and the traditional way of resolving those kinds of conflicts is burning an entire continent to the ground.

Nowadays, we mostly just have shitty flame wars, but those are still kind of unpleasant and I would prefer to avoid them. I can't tell you or anybody else how to use language or how to think, but if someone were asking my advice, I would say: when you have the reflexive feeling of outrage and disgust that you associate with "evil," it's worth reflecting on 1) what your actual moral objection is, and 2) the reason why someone might actually believe or do something you think is evil. And that's not "because they're evil." Again, that is a value judgement, not an explanation! No one goes around thinking to themselves, "today I shall be evil because I love evil."

I must emphasize that making value judgements is not bad. Making value judgements is a necessary component of living in the world and thinking about ethics and caring about other people. But on the basis that "evil" seems particularly prone to being reified as an objective force in the world, and a value judgement that suffices for and replaces actual understanding, I have made a self-conscious effort to exclude it from my analytical vocabulary.

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ded-lime · 8 months

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what i think on the whole making vessels thing the pale king did

first of all this is not about excusing pk, however the 'me exploding people who say pk is an asshole and throws kids in a pit with my mind' is very true, aside from the fact that it's literally not what happened, pk's character is all about a guy who was in a desperate situation without a good solution and saying that he's bad for what he did is missing the point. just like the colour scheme of his palace bro is morally grey. there are things that i believe made his plan sound not as bad as it is before it's implementation, and some of my interpretation seems to differ to how it is more commonly seen (that i know of at least).

so what was the plan? place eggs in he abyss and let the void animate their shells and voilà got some vessels.

why have the void? well one reason is obvious - it's a natural enemy to the radiance of sorts, an opposite of light. another one is the supposed belief that a creature of void does not feel or think. also yes the idea is that 100% of them are empty, that's the foundation it is on. i believe that he has done some experimentation before making this plan(and possibly before the infection): he's the type to build and reasonably coming up with that shit requires familiarity with the void. so assuming that they would not feel pain or think could come from that, also not that insane for a god who gave bugs minds of their own to think that with walking examples of void constructs. so godly resilience and empty head, can't feel the pain he has to put it through and strong enough to contain another god.

why so many of them? the reasoning for that is the same as why any creature has many kids: most of them not surviving for long. not just the climb, but just not even being born (which i think most of them just didn't) or dying right after (instability such as turning to liquid or crumbling shell).

the climb so here's a thing i thought since playing the game years ago. the abyss memory is a dream and not quite literal. you hit an egg with a dream nail, every time you've done that you go to a dream, i don't see why this is different besides it looking differently. the real part being pk getting pv and fucking off. and climbing up in general i guess but you know that. i don't think the ghost was literally hanging on that ledge and literally falling off after some screenshake. it's a representation of ghost and/or every other vessel getting left behind and pv leaving. and getting charm about uniting the void right after plays more into it.

the climb in itself could be a way to see which ones are stable enough, could also be a culture thing as rotten eggs all around hallownest may suggest that they are a bit more like actual animals in regard to offspring. (don't forget that this is not human society we are talking about.)

the main fucked-up-and-feeling-guilty-about thing in this whole ordeal is letting the void consume thousands of your yet unborn children inside out and subsequently animating them with it or let radiance kill everyone and picking the first one. which is you know, sucks and is pretty fucked up and he did indeed feel guilty about it. well that and then the whole hollow knight ordeal later but that's pretty straightforward. does he realise that they are not empty? like yeah probably suspected it at the very least, but that's when you can't just drop everything you've done up to this point to save everyone. only thing that does is add more guilt and drama.

the things done and decisions made were not to be cruel or evil or whatever, we don't see what this place was like before the infection and for all we know he saw the future and still thought this was the best option. how fucked up would that be huh

#the pale king #hollow knight #i wrote this at the middle of the night and a row of my keys (and spacebar) occasionally doesn't work you have no idea how annoying that is #my art #? i mean there is some

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spiderbussy · 11 months

Text

The Hating Game

Dylan O’Brien x Reader

WARNINGS: mentions of sex, steamy moments (but no smut), swearing, lots of anger/hatred, i think that’s all??

i wrote this a whole year ago and dug it up from deep in the drafts and it’s not entirely awful so i figured i might as well publish??? also edited whilst watching some killer shark movie LMFAOO so it might be a lot worse than i think jshsjs,, quick PSA tho: i dont rlly feel comfy writing for real people anymore, and i don’t like writing smut, so whilst this is relatively steamy there’s no actual smut in it :) hopefully someone enjoys lmfao

there is also a high likelihood that i will be deleting this soon bc i am Embarrassed

Being mortal fucking enemies with your co-worker is not exactly what you envisioned your first serious acting job to entail, but no one can have everything, you suppose. Like, it makes sense, from a realistic (OK, pessimistic) standpoint that getting hired to be a main character on a popular teen TV show with little to no acting experience and the only thing to your name being an apartment you’re about to get evicted out of for not paying your bills is exceedingly lucky. Like, come on, what are the fucking odds? And everyone knows that something so good is bound to be followed by something bad. In your case, something you consider the worst thing that could possibly happen to a person, and his name is Dylan O’Brien.

First off, you know. Dylan O’Brien. Every teenage girls wet dream. He’s a conventionally attractive white guy who respects women because he doesn’t actively spit on them! (You’re not saying he’s sexist, because you’re pretty sure that’s not why he hates you, it’s just because he’s tasteless and a dick.)

Here’s the thing, though. Ever since you started this job, he’s had it out for you. Like, genuinely, he’s fucking evil and is trying to ruin your life. Why is this? You have no clue, only that you hate him back equally as much, if not more.

What really sucks, though, is that this is the guy who’s playing your love interest. At first, this wasn’t even really a problem for you (only to your controlling ex-boyfriend — good fucking riddance, by the way), but it became one when you overheard Dylan actively begging the shows head writer and producer, Jeff, to cancel that plot and then storming off like a complete and utter wankstain when he was denied.

Your character's first kiss scene has had to be filmed at least a million times by now, and the crew is starting to really get pissed off by it, which, like, fair enough, you are too, but it’s not your fault you and Dylan can’t even pretend to be romantically interested in each other for five minutes! The scene itself isn’t even the problem, you’ve nailed that, it’s the kiss. The gentle, loving kiss your characters are supposed to share, and Jeff is an asshole and every time he’d yell at you and Dylan you’d both just get more and more pissed at each other, and the kiss would get progressively more and more heated and angry with every retake.

That’s where you’re at now, bordering on eating each other’s faces (excuse you while you yack!) as Jeff yells “cut!” for the fifty-millionth time. You and Dylan instantly spring apart, awkwardly avoiding eye contact as Jeff sighs. Using the back of your hand, you wipe your mouth, only to pull it back to find blood. Literal fucking blood.

“Did you bite me, you fucking pervert?” you whisper-yell at Dylan so that the crew aren’t prone to any more unprofessional behavior you exhibit. The stinging in your lip grows more profound, and you scoff. “Oh my fucking God, you bit me.”

Dylan smirks, shrugging his shoulders as he glares back at you tenfold. He’s oozing this nonchalant smugness, and you feel more pissed at him than ever.

“How the hell was that ‘gentle’ or ‘loving’!?” you continue quietly yelling at him as Jeff talks with the rest of the crew, his hands rubbing over the creases on his forehead.

Dylan’s smirk falls, as he glares at you with incredulity, “How was pulling my hair like, five minutes ago, any more ‘gentle’ or ‘loving’?!” he spits back.

Part of you wants to admit that that was genuinely an accident, but, like, whatever. Dylan would probably take it the wrong way, interpreting it as you being kinky and attracted to him. “OK,” you say instead, “act like you didn’t moan when I did that, you freak.”

“I moaned in pain,” he argues, eyebrows scrunched and a fire in his eyes as he unconsciously steps towards you.

You open your mouth, ready to retort with another remark with the intent to insult him, but Jeff’s voice quickly cuts the two of you off. “OK, guys, it’s been a long day but we’re gonna try it again,” he breathes out, rubbing his hands together before he suddenly stops, eyes narrowing in on your lip. “Jesus, OK, what the hell, your lip is bleeding Y/N.”

“Sorry about that,” Dylan smirks, poorly feigning being apologetic. And this guy’s supposed to be an actor, Jesus Christ.

“Right,” Jeff sighs, so obviously done with the both of you as you glare daggers at Dylan, which only seems to widen his smirk. “Um, OK, so this time… Dylan, try not to eat Y/N, OK? And, guys, try not to step on each other’s feet… or kick each other… the camera may not be able to see down there, but it shows, and we cab. Um, so, both of you…. just… gentle and loving, OK? This is supposed to be a sweet moment, your characters are comforting each other…. God, OK, let’s just try and get this over with.”

Admittingly, when Jeff speaks, you aren’t even really listening. You’re trying your best to hide the fact that you’re elbowing Dylan behind your back, and he’s aggressively standing on your toes. The both of you are glaring at each other from the corners of your eyes, paying Jeff little attention.

“And, reset!” Jeff calls, the both of you getting back into position. Dylan seemingly can’t help himself, though, because he steps on your heel as you walk away from him. Fucking asshole. You curse him out in your head as you try to hide your wince and sit on Stiles’ bed. He just always has to have the last word. It’s fucking childish.

You’re not paying attention as Jeff continues to call to the crew, ready for a retake. Instead, you’re glaring straight ahead, and Dylan is glaring back. The tension between the two of you dissipates quickly as Jeff yells “Action!” though, and you pretend to be upset as tears fill your eyes. You sniffle and Dylan walks over, slowly sinking himself down next to you. There’s a palpable distance between the two of you, one that’s closing slowly as Dylan, in character, awkwardly shuffles towards you, fidgeting all the while.

“What are you doing?” your character asks, looking at Dylan (Stiles) with soft, furrowed brows.

“Uhhh,” he stutters, “I just—trying to comfort you?”

“Oh,” your character says. “Right. I’m OK, though. Sorry.”

“You don’t have to apologize. It’s alright.”

There’s silence for a moment, enough to be considered a moment too long, one that makes the air awkward. You aren’t looking at Jeff but you assume he’s relatively pleased, although this isn’t the part you and Dylan have been struggling with. It’s coming up, though.

Your breath audibly halters as Dylan’s tender fingers brush your hair out of your face, tucking it behind you ear. His character is closer than you thought, as you turn to face him. His fingers are lingering in your hair, coming to hesitantly cup the side of your face as you meet his gaze. There’s barely even three centimeters between your faces, and your character's eyes are flicking down to his lips constantly, as though she can’t help herself.

“Can I…” Dylan‘s charachter trails off, gulping. “Can I—is it alright if I kiss—?”

You cut him off, quickly leaning in to place a peck on his lips.

“…You,” he breathes out, his eyes widened as he looks thoroughly perplexed.

Your character bites her lip, looking down at her hands before shooting up. “Sorry. I’m—I probably shouldn’t have done that. Sorry. I’ll go.” As quickly as you stand up, though, Dylan grabs your hand.

“Don’t be sorry,” he says, and when you turn around to face him his hands are cupping your cheeks again and you’re kissing. It’s gentle and soft until his finger tugs a strand of your hair, and then all of a sudden your hands are in Dylan’s hair roaming through them and tugging and, next thing you know, you’re tonguing and Dylan’s hand is wrapped around your throat.

“OK, cut!” Jeff screeches, and the two of you practically scramble away from each other. “What the hell, guys? You were doing so well until then. I just… Let’s take another five, I guess. No, actually, screw it, we’ll pick this back up tomorrow.”

Jeff storms off, and not only are you pissed at Dylan now, you’re ashamed. The both of you have been acting unprofessional all day, just because Dylan is a fucking child. If he gets you fired… You’re gonna kill him. Fucking murder him. Shit on his mutilated corpse.

Glaring at him, you shove his side as you storm off to go back to your trailer and calm down. You need to sleep because tomorrow is an early shoot and it’s already late, and now you probably won’t be able to because you’re pissed and stressed and worried.

Unfortunately for you, there’s a pattern of thudding footsteps on the ground before Dylan catches up to you. “Jesus, can you slow down?” he rasps. “What the hell did I even do now?”

“Are you fucking serious, O’Brien?” you whirl around, only to be met with him much closer than you anticipated. “I could get fired ‘cause of your immature ass.”

“Oh, my immature ass?” he scoffs. “Do you even hear yourself?”

With a roll of your eyes, you turn around and continue on your merry way to your trailer. You want to get away from Dylan, desperately, before you end up punching him, but he doesn’t seem to be getting the hint and is hot on your heels.

“You’re the one always calling me a dick and shit, insulting me, starting stuff. I mean, I have bruises on my back from you elbowing me just a minute ago.” You’re at your trailer now, after blocking out Dylan’s ranting in your ear, but you only just open the door before he continues, “What, you mad ‘cause no one else ever dishes back what you put out? Sorry not everyone just accepts your word as gospel, princess.”

“First of all, fuck you,” you spit. You’re giving him the attention and reaction he wants, but you don’t even care. You’re that pissed off. “Second of all, me, the princess? Holy shit, O’Brien, you’re delusional. You had a go at me today because I ate the last mac ‘n cheese, even though your name wasn’t on it. You think everything belongs to you because everybody loves you. News flash, it doesn’t, and they don’t. They just suck up to you because you’re a rich white guy with an army of teenage girls behind you.”

“Sounds like you’re just jealous to me,” Dylan shrugs, trying to pretend he’s unaffected but the stiffness in his shoulders is entirely obvious. “I mean, come on, let’s be honest here, you’re used to getting everything, to being the favourite, but the moment someone else gets attention you go fucking haywire. Or maybe you’re just in love with me. You say you hate me but, come on, everyone knows there’s a thin line between love and hate.”

“Me? Love you?” You scoff, laughing aggressively. “Only one of us choked the other as they shoved their tongue down their throat today.”

“Choked you?” Dylan snorts. “You wish. I merely placed my hand in the wrong place. It was an accident, Y/L/N. You know, like you.”

“Oh, good one. You really got me there, Dyl.” The sarcasm is practically oozing out of your every pore at this point. “And your hand was around my neck. How do you accidentally do that?”

“I was aiming for your other cheek, but you were tugging on my hair so much I could barely fucking see,” he retorts.

“Oh, sure. You were aiming for my cheek and you just accidentally slipped your hand right like this,” you say, sliding your hand around Dylan’s throat to demonstrate, lightly pushing him against the wall.

“Yeah, maybe like how you accidentally kept going like this,” Dylan says, his eyes narrowed into slits as he stares straight into yours, his fingers sliding through your hair before gripping and yanking.

“I hate you,” you breathe, your gazes re-aligning. The distance between the two of you is minimal at this point, and there’s an angry hornets nest in your stomach that you blame on your insatiable anger and hatred of this man in front of you.

“Fight me,” he spits, eyes boring into yours and not breaking contact for even a second.

“Oh, you wanna fight?” You challenge, mocking him.

“Fuck you,” he spits again, violently frustrated.

“Oh, you wanna fuck?” You were supposed to say it with a laugh, but the distance between the two of you is so small, and your voice sounds so quiet, and his eyes are looking at yours like that, and it suddenly sounds so reasonable… The two of you are kissing, but it doesn’t feel like kissing. It feels like more. It doesn’t start gentle and slow, like the ones you were doing for the camera earlier, it starts violent and angry as you communicate every ounce of hatred from one body to another.

Dylan’s foot juts out, his hands sliding down your body as he kicks the door to the trailer shut. Immediately, you push him up against the closed door, hands sliding into his hair as his hands come up to cup your cheeks with vigor.

“I knew you were into that,” he groans, smirking.

“Shut the fuck up,” you retort, forcing his head back down to yours so your lips can re-meet. His laugh cuts off into a moan as you pull his hair, and he suddenly flips the two of you around, parting your legs with his foot as his hands cup your ass.

The next day, you drag yourself into hair and makeup, ashamed. You know Sam, your makeup artist, is gonna want to kill you for all the goddamn hickies on your neck. Honest to god, it looks like you’ve just crawled out a leech-infested lake.

“Jesus Christ, girl,” Sam gasps as you take your usual seat. “You get mauled or something?”

The woman lifts your hair as she peers at your marked-up neck, assessing the damage. She seems more amused than pissed off, thankfully, but it does nothing to quell your embarrassment. You just hope you didn’t mark Dylan up as much as he did you, or else someone might just put the pieces together. You do not want people thinking your standards are low enough to sleep with him—they might think you’re some sex-crazed satanist if they know you fucked the devil last night.

“Yeah, something like that,” you sigh, irritation lining your tone. It just so happens that, at that moment, the trailer door opens and in comes Dylan. Your eyes meet immediately, just as they always have done when the two of you have found yourselves in the same room. You glare, but you find it’s half-hearted and, unlike usual, he looks away and goes over to his own seat, seemingly searching for something.

Huh.

“You gotta tell me who did this to you,” Sam whistles, still in shock, apparently. “Slip ‘em my number, maybe.”

You can’t see Dylan entirely, his back half-turned to you, but you see the corner of his lips turn up as he tries to suppress a smirk.

“You know what they say about guys who put on a show,” you shrug, eyes narrowed in Dylan’s direction. He’s pretending to search for his phone still, but you saw him slip it into his pocket already. Nosey fucker. “It’s a little somethin’ called overcompensation.”

Sam lets out a loud cackle, turning to grab something out of her bag, and Dylan, done with pretending to look for his phone, whirls his head around to give you a subtle glare and a raised eyebrow, a smug look on his face like he knows you’re lying. (Which you, very begrudgingly, have to admit to yourself that you are.)

You hate Dylan. Despise him, even. More than you’ve ever hated anyone; you can rationalize why last night happened easily enough. The amount of hatred and tension and the pressure from Jeff to get that scene right all blew up. That much emotion had to be exhausted somewhere, and, well, it was. It was a blip in the timeline, some kind of glitch in the matrix, but it happened and there’s an easy explanation. What there’s not an easy explanation for, however, is why you liked it so much. Why you’re lying, trying to pretend it wasn’t nearly as good as it was, trying to pretend you’re not still thinking about how it felt to kiss him and kiss him and kiss him… There is no logical explanation for that.

In fact, it’s entirely illogical, the mushy way you feel inside when you met his eyes, covered with a glare that you wish had half the hate in it that it normally does. It’s weird and it’s wrong, because you’re not supposed to have butterflies when you think of the way his hand had caressed your face, the way he ran his fingers through your hair, the way his arms felt, wrapped around you. You’re supposed to be revolted.

He’s smug and he’s pompous and you cannot stand him, let alone stand the thought of kissing him. And yet, although you hate the fact that the thought exists, you yearn for it. You find yourself excited, even, to go to set and get yelled at by Jeff because you simply cannot help yourselves when it comes to one another. You hate it, every second of it, every second of him. You think you hate him so much you might actually love him. And with the wink he sends over his shoulder as he leaves the trailer, eyes dark as they peer at the hickies Sam is frantically trying to cover up, you think he does, too.

#dylan obrien #dylan obrien imagine #dylan obrien x reader #stiles stilinski #teen wolf #dylan o'brien #dylan o'brien imagine #dylan o'brien x reader

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