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truerescreatuconfessions · 2 years

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Open Letter to Staff

If you're on staff and reading this you know the truth about why Schemes was banned. You can tell yourself that users don't know, but you can't pretend you don't. You know. And I hope you read this and it sinks in. I hope one of you has the decency to do something. That being said, we do know. It was pretty obvious from the start and trying to act like a staff member getting a bunch of things taken off their account and then being fired and banned wasn't about her cheating is pretty insulting. It only became more obvious as time went on, and posting a loophole to excuse allowing a cheater to keep their account didn't help. This whole thing is making the site look worse than it ever has. It's not bad enough nothing gets done about Dan. Now you have evidence in hand of a staff member spawning stuff in for herself and this is the choice you make? You let her keep her account? You can gaslight us and pretend that's not what happened - but you can't gaslight the rest of staff who know the truth. You're going to go back to banning regular users tomorrow who are caught with second accounts, and banning anyone who is critical of what's going on, but not a staff member caught cheating. This exception might be understandable in the case of a user who abuses a glitch for a short time, or even a user who created a second account and didn't significantly benefit from it. Res needs users and some leniency for your average person - who doesn't have the responsibility or power of a staff member - would be underestandable. The damage they do is typically minimal. At most they were still forced to operate within the parameters of the game to earn slightly more than other users. You could even argue that multi-accounts contribute more activity to the site by still having to play the game. Obviously having multiple accounts is not alright either, but I think we can all agree it pales in comparison to having access to staff panels that allow you to create and move anything at will and betraying the trust you were afforded. They also don't damage the reputation of the site/staff. Speaking of multi-accounts, did you guys check out Shadow, Dan's second account? Staff are the people you're suppose to hold to a higher standard. We're suppose to trust that staff, above everyone else, will uphold the rules. This isn't even about Schemes anymore. Schemes is no longer staff, it's no longer her responsibility to do the right thing for the site. But Pegasus and Hallows - where is your integrity? You didn't stand up for Kina, you didn't question her getting banned and her account wiped and her names ending up on Dan's account and her name on her staff items being erased when she spoke up. Did you ask why Juke was suddenly allowed back on site after they wiped Kina's screenshots from the old blog? You didn't look into anything Hell tried to report to Lilith about Dan getting names from the clearing before the showroom cleared, and then let her be banned for it, even though Kina shared that this was something she was aware of Dan doing. You stood by while users were banned for being upset about the clearing - which not one of you can argue was handled fairly. Other users have cried "mental health issues" from being banned and were given none of the consideration or exceptions you're making now. Kina, who allegedly was banned for "being toxic", wasn't given the privilege of this leniency (even though most people would agree "being toxic" should have warranted a temporary ban at best). Now we all know where you stand if you let this decision stand as well. How can we trust that nothing else on Scheme's account is illegitimate? How far back did you investigate, and did you consider every transaction she's had with other users? Because that's gotta be an immense amount of work considering she's been on staff for some time now. I know you won't answer these questions for us, but can you confidently say to your fellow staff that it was extensively investigated? Even still, can you say to the rest of staff that this decision was fair to them either? They've been (hopefully) not abusing their staff privileges, playing by the rules and even putting up with all of us disgruntled jerks for very little thanks - and now they're going to have to keep playing knowing that this sort of thing does go on, that users were right, and now they have to defend a decision that wasn't fair to them either - all while watching Schemes continue to play. Ever notice how when you play a game with friends and turn cheats on, the game stops being fun pretty quickly? Well, it's even less fun when only one of your friends gets to turn on cheats, isn't it? It kind of breaks the whole game for everyone, doesn't it? The value of everything falls into question, and you no longer feel like working for anything. That's how users feel and it's only going to get worse if staff continue to prove they don't care about it. That's what you're creating when you don't maintain the trust of users. You could easily still do the right thing. I hope you realize the site is worth trying for. I hope you'll also consider that this incident proves it's possible this sort of thing can and does go on. If someone hadn't submitted those screenshots to the blog, would you have noticed her cheating I wonder? And to the rest of staff - if your leaders refuse to do the right thing, maybe you should. Imagine this scenario: You expose the truth about the ban, share the details, say that you don't agree with rules not being enforced fairly. If they fire you from staff, how could they possibly defend that decision to users? "We banned them for trying to uphold the fairness and integrity of Rescreatu." Users will not be angry with the staff member(s) who take a stand. Further more, it's pretty easy to do it anonymously anyway. Food for thought.

#rescon #truerescon #rescreatuconfessions #truerescreatuconfessions #schemes #khione #submission

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winter-soldier-vibes · 3 years

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Hey darling ❤️ love your writing 3000 :) can u do one with Bucky x reader (they’re together) where he overhears the reader on the phone with her parents that are emotionally & verbally abusive towards her (they always have been) and the reader has to explain it all to him afterwards even tho she’s having a panic attack (bc she’s afraid bucky will leave her since she has no one else to go to ??) and bucky comforts her and reassures her that he’s gonna be there for her and like comfort fluff? I live in an emotionally abusive and manipulative household rn and I tell you your fics are like an escape for me. Even if u don’t do this thank you from the bottom of my heart :)

Hey there, I love you 3000 ❤ I am so so sorry to hear about your situation, and while I'm glad to hear that my writing is an escape for you, I want you to know that I'm here for you. No one should have to go through what you described. I hope that this can bring you some comfort but please, I encourage you to reach out to someone who can help you. My DM's are open as well, you shouldn't face this alone. I'm here for you!!!

You owe them nothing

Bucky Barnes x reader

Word Count: 3200 (ish)

Warnings: emotional abuse/gaslighting, manipulation, parent issues, tears, angst, breakdown, fluff.

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You really tried to keep it hidden. It wasn’t something that everyone needed to know about.

Your parents loved you, at least that’s what they had said. But it was one of those things where you felt like it was for show - the kindness that they showed when you were around others faded away once you were alone with them.

You remember once they had said “of course I love you, I’m your parent!”

But that made you wonder how they would treat you if you weren’t theirs.

They were horrible to you for as long as you could remember. Gaslighting you and making you feel like you owed them something even though they were the ones who should have taken care of you.

They were around but never…there. They would be there for family dinners but they were always riddled with criticisms of grades and who you were talking to and how you dressed. All of your hobbies were seen as a waste of time, something you should only do when you had nothing else to do. School came first, naturally, but there was always something they told you you had to do before you could do anything for yourself.

Yet when you would complain about being depressed, they told you to get a hobby because you never do anything.

Tired meant lazy, energetic and passionate meant loud and annoying. When you were quiet they thought you had nothing to say, yet when you expressed your opinions you were told to shut up.

You couldn’t win.

You could never make them happy, there was always something you were doing wrong.

They thought it was their right to monitor who you talked to and saw, what you did outside of school, what sports you could join. When you would say no to the school dances or parties you would make up an excuse about not wanting to go or having work to do. Your friends would call you a buzz kill. Little did they know you would give anything to go.

Whenever you would do something wrong (or anything, period,), your parents would yell at you. They would curse you out, make you cry, only to yell at you for crying like a little bitch.

The older you got, the worse it was.

You thought when you moved out it would be better. But you had all these years of being told you were worthless and having them be your providers. When you got your own place you didn’t really have any friends, nor did you really know how to make friends. You had a job to help you get by, you could support yourself. That wasn’t the issue. You could support yourself, you always had to.

It was that you were so lonely.

You wanted friends but you were so afraid of the criticism you would get. You were afraid to make yourself known, because you were always taught that being told what to do and taught what to think was much more appealing than having your opinion.

But this was an opinionated world.

You were good at what you did, so good that you had gotten a job at S.H.I.E.L.D. You thought that would make you happy, more importantly that it would make your parents happy, but no such luck.

“I got a really great job, guys.”

“Fantastic. I guess you’re just doing so great without us,” they had snapped.

“What? I mean… this is what you wanted right? For me to get a good job?” you had said, confused.

You heard a loud sigh on the other end of the line. “Of course we do, what are you crazy about? Of course we wanted you to get a good job but you just deserted us like we were trash. Have we done nothing for you?”

You felt your heart sink in your stomach. ‘Of course you guys have, I love -”

“Don’t say what you don’t mean. If you really cared about us you’d be helping us out. You got a great job and probably have a huge paycheck that you hoard and you left us here to struggle to make ends meet.”

You took the phone away from your face temporarily to take a shaky breath. Of course they would go there with the salary, why wouldn’t they? All of your paychecks had gone to them, since it was their house and they were feeding you, leaving you with barely enough money for your car and gas and phone bills, only for them to suggest longer hours when you complained.

“I can help you guys out if you need,” you said, trying to keep your voice steady.

You heard an exasperated sigh on the other line again. “You really should be more grateful, you know? We raised you your entire life and then you leave us alone? You never even call us? You’re so fucking selfish.”

Then the line went dead.

You shook your head and felt tears in your eyes as you spoke to yourself. “Well maybe I would call you if it didn’t always yell at me.”

Of course, you would never say that.

See, it wasn’t so bad. You never said anything because they were only ever mean to you, which would make you uncomfortable. There were people out there that would get hit or who would have to raise themselves from a young age. Once you grew thick skin it wasn’t so bad, you were just being dramatic.

Right?

Your new job was fairly successful, you were fantastic at what you did. You did a lot of behind the scenes work, weapon repair and plans of action with missions. Not that they needed much help with that. Still, they took you in as their friends.

Well, as close as you would let them get to as friends.

It took a while before you warmed up to them. Everyone tended to keep to themselves, but not as much as you. You kept the parts of you hidden away - you were there for a job, you did it, and you did it well. You knew how to do your job but interacting with the team, making friends - you didn’t want to get emotionally attached.

Not like you knew how to make friends to begin with.

Naturally you were drawn to the quieter side of the team, once you were able to open up. They were all nice but sometimes the parties and the jokes were a bit much. You just didn’t want to say or do the wrong thing that would make you the punchline.

No one needed to know about you, or how you would spend your free time being yelled at through a phone with you trying to make it better. That wasn’t part of the job, so you shouldn’t bring it up.

It wasn’t like anyone would want to help. You were just a nuisance to everyone around you.

Right?

No one talked about their life before the team much. Not many people on the team had a great life before the Avengers first came together. Natasha or Wanda had once spoken about how this team was a family. And as much as you wanted to believe it, you helped the team. You weren’t a part of the team. So even if that were true, it didn’t include you.

At least, that was your point of view.

The team viewed you as a part of the team as much as any of them. You didn’t fight with them but you made sure everything would go as smoothly. You were kind and great at what you did, but they wished you would open up more. Of course, being a team of people who had trouble opening up, they understood.

Bucky was one of the ones who took a liking to you, mostly because he saw a lot of himself in you. He could tell there was something that you were trying to get past but weren’t quite able to yet. That there was something bothering but you wouldn’t dare say it for fear of bothering someone. You threw yourself into projects and distractions and from the way you carried yourself, he guessed you were avoiding something that you weren’t ready to work through. At least, not yet.

He knew that feeling too well.

The ex-assassin was one of the easiest for you to open up to because he didn’t expect much from interactions. Both of you were quiet and kept to yourselves that there wasn’t much pressure to share anything or say anything. You knew his past but would never bring it up unless he wanted to. Which eventually, he did. You could tell he felt pressure to be who he was before HYDRA took him, and while Steve was surprised he opened up to you first, you weren’t. Steve knew Bucky before everything, and you didn’t have that bias. He was whoever he was today regardless of who he was yesterday.

And Bucky found comfort in that.

You think you would’ve too, if you thought you deserved it enough to do the same.

See, you were worried that you were making everything worse than it really was. You worried that maybe you were being too sensitive or that what you had grown up with was normal. With everything that everyone on the team went through, a few insults from your parents was hardly anything. You were being dramatic.

There was nothing to be sad or angry about. You just had to get over yourself.

Right?

You were getting by until one night when your parents called, as they did on occasion. You were in the middle of working, so you ignored it. The phone went to voicemail before it started ringing again, and you ignored it, again. The third time you sighed and picked up your phone, turning away from your work.

You took a deep breath before you answered. “Hello?”

“What the hell is wrong with you?”

You closed your eyes and brought a hand to rub your head. “Well I’m doing fine, thank you, how are you?”

“Don’t give me that attitude. What the fuck are you doing? You’ve been ignoring our calls.”

You stood up to pace the floor slightly, dreading the conversation that was coming. Is it the ‘family is most important’ or the ‘where’s my money?’ speech today? “I’ve been working.”

“What, so work is more important than family now? Is that what this is? You don’t care about us?”

Family speech it is.

“Dad -”

“What if one of us was dying? Huh? Would that be important?”

“Stop it. No one is dying, and I was working. And I have more work to do, so I really have to go.”

“You don’t get to tell me what to do, I’m your father.”

Gaining confidence you gritted your teeth and snapped, “You know what? I’m an adult now so you can’t tell me what to do.”

There was silence on the other end of the line and you could practically hear the steam coming out of your father’s ears.

At some point Bucky had come down to your working space to check on you, seeing as it was nearly morning. He stopped in the doorway, and seeing you were busy on the phone he thought he would stop by later to give you some privacy. But he stopped when he heard you snap.

You never snap.

“Who do you think you’re talking to you ungrateful little bitch?”

“I’m talking to the people who treated me like shit my entire life and ask me for money when you wouldn’t give me the time of day for 18 fucking years.”

Even you couldn’t believe the words coming out of your mouth. But god did it feel good to say them.

“Are you fucking serious right now? We did nothing for you? What do you think we’ve been doing your whole life? We’ve done everything we did to help you be the best person you could be. You have that job now because of us and you have no right to speak to me that way.”

You chuckled darkly as you looked up at the ceiling, unaware of Bucky’s presence behind you. “My entire life all I’ve ever wanted to do was make you guys proud of me. But you know what? I’m fucking done. You hated me, gaslighted me, and made me hate myself almost as much if not more than you seemed to hate me.”

“I did no such thing you ungrateful -”

“You were supposed to love me and care for me, and all you did was take advantage of me. I’m not your child, I’m a paycheck. I don’t owe you anything because you gave me nothing. So you know what? FUCK. YOU.”

You hung up the phone and tossed it across the room, adrenaline taking over your body as you tried to stop shaking. Because a small part of you felt bad.

But fuck did that feel amazing.

You heard a throat clear behind you and you turned around to see Bucky, eyebrows furrowed in concern.

“You okay?”

You nodded nervously, rubbing the sides of your arms. “Yeah, I’m fine,” you said, unconvincingly. “How much, uh...how much did you -

“Enough,” he said, pushing himself off of the door frame as he crossed over to you. “Who was that?”

“Bucky, don’t, it’s really fine. I just got a little worked up.”

“Y/n,” he started, looking at you with concern. “Who were you talking to?”

“No one.”

“You don’t get upset like that at no one,” he took your hands in his. “Y/n, you're shaking.”

It was then that you realized your hands were still shaking, trying to keep the anxiety of what happened at bay.

It’s going to be so much worse now.

I can never talk to them again.

Is that a good thing? Didn’t I want that?

Bucky could sense you getting lost in your head. “Sweetheart, tell me what happened, please. I want to help you.”

You pulled your hands away from his and crossed your arms. “You can’t help me because there’s nothing wrong, okay? I handled it, it’s over. Done. nothing to worry about.”

“Y/n -”

“No really, there’s nothing you can do, okay?”

“Will you at least let me try?”

You looked at him, adrenaline starting to drain from your system. This was Bucky, your Bucky, who had never done anything but love and support you. He had never done anything to hurt you.

But what if he left you too?

You took in a sharp breath and curled in on yourself, a scared look on your face. Bucky crossed back over to you, seeing a scared look on your face.

“Hey, hey, y/n? Can you look at me?”

You brought your eyes up to meet his, feeling your chest constricting as you tried to keep your breathing even. It wasn’t working.

“I - I’m sorry, you shouldn’t… I’m fine really I’m sorry, I’m so sorry”

“Hey, it’s alright, it’s okay, you have nothing to apologize for,” he pulled you in for a hug and kissed the top of your head. “Let’s go sit down, okay?’

He led you over to your bed and you leaned forward, hands on your knees and head in your hands. “I’m sorry, I don’t know what’s happening, this - I’m sorry, it’s so stupid, I’m so stupid.”

Bucky rubbed a hand up and down your back, hushing you. “It’s not stupid. If it’s bothering you, it’s not stupid.” Bucky took a small breath. “Do you remember all of those times after nightmares and all those panic attacks you would walk me through? How I thought I was being stupid?”

“You weren’t being stupid”

“And neither are you.”

You took some more shaky breaths as tears kept falling down your face. “You’re okay. It’s alright, I’m right here.”

Bucky let you calm down, knowing you would talk about it if you wanted to. He wanted you to talk about it so he could help you (and hurt whoever upset you) but he wouldn’t force you into telling him anything you didn’t want to.

The two of you sat in the silence, Bucky looking at you with soft eyes as you kept your face hidden.

“I haven’t told you a goddamn thing about me. You ever wonder why?”

You looked over at Bucky, eyebrows creased with slight confusion.

“They said blood was supposed to be thicker than water. That family comes first, right? I spent my whole life listening to them and following them and being the perfect kid. I made myself into everything they wanted me to be. And it still wasn’t enough for them.”

Bucky tilted his head slightly. He hadn’t known his parents much before they died but he had always wanted to have more time. But he wasn’t oblivious to the fact that not everyone had good parents.

“You know, I remember thinking that once I made it they would be happy. That if I worked hard enough or went onto do great things that they would be proud of me. That’s all I ever wanted, you know?” you said, voice wavering as you let out a bitter laugh. “But it’s not, you know? Never is, never was, never will be. All they do is take and take and no matter how good I am they’re always gonna hate me because I can’t be perfect.”

“No one’s perfect, y/n.”

“Well that’s what they want me to be. I know I can’t be perfect so I know they’ll never be happy. That they’ll call me ungrateful and selfish for succeeding and for leaving them when they never wanted me to be there to begin with.” You felt tears spill over as you wiped them away. “And I’m ust so fucking done with being a disappointment to them and to everyone else.”

“Why didn’t you tell anyone?”

“I don’t know,” you said softly, not really wanting to be more vulnerable.

Bucky, sensing this was a time he could push you, challenged you. “I think you do.”

You shook your head. “I didn’t want anyone to see me the way they did. I thought what they said wasn’t true but...I just thought that maybe I was overreacting. Other people have it worse you know - some people have no parents or some have it so much worse. Mine just yell at me you know? Tell me everything’s my fault and that they wish they’d never had me. That I’m ungrateful for not being with them and that I owe them. I just...I heard that for the first 18 years of my life. I didn’t need any more of it.”

“y/n, that’s…” he swallowed, trying to contain his anger. “That’s not normal. No one should have to go through that. You can’t possibly think you're a bad person.”

Your shrug was enough to tell him that you did.

“Y/n, I don’t know who your parents think they are but you don’t owe them a damn thing. You may be related to them but you have no obligation to love your parents if they treat you like that. You have every right to be angry or to hate them. It doesn’t make you a bad person to be angry with someone who hurt you.”

“But they’re my family.”

“Well they didn’t treat you like it. You have us now, you don’t need them anymore. We’re your family. And we’re not gonna leave you.”

“They didn’t leave me Bucky, I left them.”

“You can’t leave someone who was never there for you.”

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yandere-daydreams · 3 years

Text

Title: Learned Helplessness.

Commissioned by the very lovely, very patient @99shadowcat99.

Pairing: Yandere!Hawks/Reader (BNHA).

Word Count: 1.6k.

TW: Mindbreak, Slight Stockholm Syndrome, Themes of Past Abuse, Physical Abuse, Emotional Manipulation, Slight Gaslighting, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, and Implied Kidnapping.

Sometimes, Keigo had to wonder if there was ever a point where you hadn’t been afraid of him.

It’d always been there, even if Keigo liked to remember your anxious smiles and stuttered greetings in a kinder light. It made sense, in the moment, the way you kept your eyes on the floor when you first approached him, struggling to introduce yourself as you fumbled with the disposable cup in your hands, caught between the urge to leave an off-shift hero alone and the temptation get your favorite idol’s autograph before he could slip out of the small, back-alley bar you found him in. You’d been nervous, obviously, hesitant to admit you were just as eager as he was when he asked for your number, when he called you for the first time – hell, it took him months just to get you to spend the night in his apartment. You were shy. He liked that about you. You’d always been so timid.

The fear, the genuine fear, started later on. He remembered it, the weeks you spent holing yourself up in the smallest corner you could find, how many times he tried to lure you out and how many times he was met screaming and thrashing and struggling, but you’d always been scared, slow to adjust, reluctant to sit still and listen when he asked you so nicely to try. You wanted to be loved, but you didn’t know how to let your guard down. You wanted him, but…

But, he was making excuses. You were never shy. You’d never really been scared. Even when things went bad, he doubted you were ever really afraid of him.

You were afraid now, though, and if he’d been a better man, he might’ve been able to admit he was the reason why.

Your hands were shaking. Violently, visibly, despite your attempts to keep them folded behind your back, to keep the evidence of your paranoia out of sight and out of mind. It was enough to give you away, though, and if it hadn’t been, your posture would’ve done it, too stiff and too rigid to be comfortable, or your bowed head, or the smile you couldn’t seem to force onto your grim expression as he let himself into the kitchen, stopping to lean in the doorway. Already, it felt like an invasion, despite the fact that he’d taken you to his villa, on his property, far away from anyone or anything you’d interact with willingly. He was home too soon, and this wasn’t his territory, anymore. He wasn’t your caretaker, anymore. He’d lost the right to think of himself as such a benevolent figure.

But, he tried. You had to give him that. Out of the two of you, he was the only one trying to make this work. “No need to be shy,” He started, keeping his tone as neutral as he could. You didn’t react well when he raised his voice, and when he tried to be more gentle, to soften himself into something delicate and unimposing, you never bought the act. He couldn’t blame you. If he didn’t know how sweet you could be, how playful and how loving, he wouldn’t know to be dissatisfied with the frightened thing you currently were. “I don’t bite, (Y/n), you know that. You can calm down.”

He wanted you to correct him. He wanted you to grit your teeth, to cross your arms, to get angry. You only nodded, narrowing your eyes at the tiling. “You… you’re early.” Your voice was quiet, barely above a mumble, but it was still an improvement. Not long ago, you’d refused to talk to him at all, and when he could choke a few words out of you, he’d have to deal with the breakdown that came afterward, the pleads for mercy forced out between hitched sobs. This was better. He could tell himself that this was better, even if it was less, too. “I’m sorry, I should’ve been there to greet you. I would’ve, if I thought you were going to—”

You were rambling, again. Keigo didn’t have a problem with that, not by itself, not when so many memories he had of your absent-minded tangents were still tinted with that sparkling, rose-colored haze, but he didn’t care for this, panicked muttering only made more painful by the way you shifted your weight, managing to hold your tense smile, this time. Did he ask you to do that? Smile when he was around? Play house and pretend you were happy when your captor chose to pay attention to you? It seemed like something he would do, back when he still thought that wearing you down was the solution. Fuck, it seemed like something he would do now, if he didn’t already know how painful it was to watch you try.

“It’s alright,” He cut you off, taking half a step forward. Instantly, reflexively, you flinched back, that slight shudder suddenly more pronounced. It wasn’t just your hands, now, your shoulders were shaking too, your jaw locking into place as you leaned into the sharp edge of the countertop. “Sweetheart,” He tried, moving forward before realizing his mistake and freezing, cursing under his breath. Predictably, none of it did anything to soothe you. “Baby, I just wanted to see you, that’s all. I got off early, and I figured we could—”

A stifled gasp interrupted him, just the hint of a sob. A month ago, he would’ve taken it as a sign of disobedience, another bad habit you had to be trained out of. Now, it was all he could do to stop himself from wishing you would cry, kick and bite and scratch at him until you’re too exhausted to care that he'd be the one comforting you. At least that way, he’d get to touch you. At least that way, you’d be something, other than afraid.

“Please, I just—I haven’t done anything!” Because you’ve been good. Because so much as being near him was a punishment. Because he wanted you to love him and now, he was paying the price for hoping he could ever do something so shamelessly heroic. “I can’t— please, don’t come any closer, I don’t know if I can—”

He wanted to hold you. That was all he could think about. He just wanted to hold you, the actual you. Not whatever shell he’d gotten used to living with. “Stop talking.”

You clenched your eyes shut, then you opened them again. Like a child, trying to blink away the remnants of a nightmare after just waking up. “I’m so—”

“Stop talking.” In his defense, he didn’t yell, he knew how much you hated it. He did yell, he didn’t throw a tantrum, not like you would’ve, not like you were about to by the time he stepped forward, crossing whatever ridiculous boundary you were so convinced he had to respect. You moved to shrink into yourself, but he grabbed you before you could collapse, catching you by the bicep and latching onto your hip, refusing to let you fall and make him seem like the bad guy. You already had your fun. You’d already gotten away with enough. You had to know he would put his foot down eventually, and you didn’t have the right to seem so shocked, when he finally did. “Just stop talking. Shut up. Don’t say a goddamn word until I tell you to, fucking brat.”

Now, now, you were crying, tears welling in your eyes and rolling down your cheeks, your entire body trembling like he’d ever given you a reason not to trust him, like he’d ever hurt you a reason to think he had anything but your happiness in-mind. He couldn’t bring himself to care, not about the tears, not about the excuses you were stumbling through, and not about the way you were holding yourself, your arms crossed over your stomach and your nails embedded in your sides, a moment away from drawing blood. He just couldn’t bring himself to care.

You didn’t say anything, but he still shook his head, sighed, made a show of cupping your cheek and idly brushing away your tears. “It’s my fault,” He admitted, letting the disappointment seep into his voice, allowing his tone to dip into something superior. Compared to your whimpering, at least. “I trusted you to get better on your own, and I shouldn’t have. I thought you could pull yourself together, but clearly, I was wrong. You just can’t do anything on your own, can you?”

You looked like you wanted to say something, to argue. You didn’t, but you looked like you wanted to, and that was enough to make his heart skip a beat on its own.

“I’m tired of this.” Just as quickly as he took you up, he let you go, watching in silence as you struggled to stay on your feet. “Go to your room. Yours, not mine. I don’t want to look at you if you’re going to act like I’ve done anything but help you.”

You looked at him, at that, met his gaze for the first time since you decide doing so was a death-wish. It was only for a breath, a fraction of a second, but he still saw it – that spark, that light, that hint of something other than thoughtless, blank fear. It wasn’t positive, the adoration he would’ve liked or the resigned neutrality he would’ve tolerated, but it was something. It was something, and it had been so, so long since you’d given Keigo anything.

He couldn’t make you love him. He’d tried, he failed, and he’d tried again and made thing worse. It was over. He just couldn’t do it.

But, he was beginning to think you didn’t need to love him. Not as much as he loved you. Not at all, really.

Not if he could get you to hate him enough to make up the difference.

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dreamteamspace · 3 years

Text

They really went there huh

/rp (good lord I rly hyperfixated on this essay huh)

torture tw, abuse tw, manipulation tw, gaslighting tw

So the Dream SMP built a character, once maybe morally gray, who slipped straight into villany with little to no desire to change, and willing to cause a LOT of pain to get his way. Despite this, he doesn’t question what he does enough to stop, justifying his actions with a good intent that doesn’t come close to justifying what he’s done.

C!Dream is unremorseful of what he’s done, he’s quite literally manipulated and gaslit (like actually, not in the way everyone keeps throwing the word around) c!Tommy, almost drove him to take his last life- like, jesus christ. That’s not even to mention blowing up L’Manburg three times, encouraging c!Wilbur, wanting the discs JUST to have power over c!Tommy, etc.

SO, he gets thrown in a box for it so he doesn’t hurt anybody anymore, making his own hubris his downfall (narrative consequence my beloved). This leads us to a good finale - the bad guy, the person who’s caused objectively the most pain and destruction, is now unable to do so anymore, taken down by the person whom he tried to weaken. It is also revealed he was planning on blackmailing and threatening pretty much everyone, but now everyone gets their stuff back.

Good, right?

Especially for the finale, yeah! The message of the finale is good, c!Tommy manages to escape his abuser with nothing more but his clothes on his back and fights his way back to c!Tubbo and his home.

He doesn’t let his trauma (which is still very present!) let him become a terrible person (arguably the way that c!Dream DID let his frustrations make him a terrible person, c!Tommy, despite bearing quite a heavy weight, recognizes when he begins to turn that way and actively works against it).

It shows that while alone, c!Tubbo and c!Tommy were outfought by Dream, but because c!Tommy went the length to ask for help (which he didn’t even really seem to be relying on actually showing up), he wins! It truly is a good message.

C!Tommy escapes his abuser and manipulator, refuses and fights his trauma to not become someone he doesn’t want to be, and defeats his abuser by asking for help and receiving it, even more than he thought he’d get. He refuses to play c!Dream’s “game”, refuses till the very last moment to let c!Tubbo die, to surrender and say goodbye to him.

So, great! Good finale! C!Dream The Villain is boxed like a fish in a prison of, quite literally, his own making. It sent a good message to people. C!Tommy wasn’t expected to forgive him and did, in fact, axe him down twice, causing c!Dream to finally fall from his high horse.

Most media would stop at this point, say the villain is now defeated and never show them again, or have them come back another one or two seasons later, escaped and seemingly unharmed and worse than ever.

Alternatively, there’s a throwaway line, (or, in good media, a genuine, reasonable backstory, complete with remorse and bad role models and complicated situations), that allows the villain to be redeemed.

In GOOD redemption arcs (See: Zuko from avatar tbh), the villain was already never quite as heartless, or stressed their good intent, or felt remorse for what they felt they “had to do”. Then, ideally, the villain takes a looooong time adjusting their habits, regretting their actions and changing until they’re considered redeemed.

Not on the Dream SMP, though.

They don’t stop at c!Dream’s defeat.

He doesn’t dissapear off-screen and is never spoken of again. His life continues on, everyone’s does, just like it would in reality. He doesn’t magically want to become a better person, far from it. So no redemption. But he doesn’t dissapear, either.

They go on to, slowly, stress how awful the conditions in Pandora’s Vault are. c!Bad says c!Dream should be imprisoned, but at least at slightly better conditions. We’re in very VERY morally gray territorry here. Nobody says c!Dream is a good person, of course not, but even c!Bad - who knows Dream was planning on keeping c!Skeppy in a cage to control him with - goes, “yeah, he should stay boxed, but does he really need to like... suffer suffer?”

Still, c!Dream seems to be kindof inconsistent in his behavior. Is he faking his pain? Is he not? His actions don’t fully make sense for either take. He acts differently to each person, but at the same time some things he does don’t make sense if he were just fishing for pity.

Then c!Sam admits to trying (and thinking he succeeded) to “break Dream’s will”, to quite literally starving him for weeks.

Okay, so now we’re a step further. C!Dream is now suffering even more, although already boxed and unable to hurt anyone. Pandora’s Vault is one thing, but now c!Sam just seems to be out for revenge and nothing more. Instead of spending his time with c!Tommy, he spends his time pickaxing(?) c!Dream.

C!Sam isn’t an angel, and we should all know that by now. He does what he thinks is right, but he’s deeper than that, all characters on the DSMP are.

He cares deeply for the Badlands, and would always choose them above anybody else. He’s a capitalist. He built the prison because it would benefit the Badlands resource-wise, despite knowing Dream would probably use it on his enemies, and it was no secret that ALL members of L’Manburg, especially c!Tommy, are his enemies. C!Sam, undoubtedly, knew that. He still built it.

Arguably, he didn’t know about c!Dream’s attachment obsession at the time, but the point still stands.

People have already latched onto the untold story happening between c!Dream and c!Sam, and frankly, we barely know enough about it. Does c!Sam torture him regularly? Do they talk? Does c!Dream try to verbally fight back? CAN he fight back? We don’t know! We’ve gotten proof for both, between c!Sam saying that c!Dream is terrifying even in prison and c!Dream going silent to go on strike. We don’t have enough of an idea how bad or how good it truly is.

So the people who prefer to humanize c!Dream and explore morality imagine c!Sam to downright torture him, people that prefer to see c!Dream as nothing but evil due to his actions imagine prison on the DSMP to not be equivalent to real life prison, and thus nowhere near as torturous as people are making it out to be.

Now all that is thrown out the window as c!Quackity quite literally tortures him.

So now the internet is faced with a question that, judging by some of the impulsive reactions *cough cough* celebrating torture *cough*, it didn’t turn out to be ready for.

Tell me.

How far do we go?

C!Dream hurt a LOT of people. He did a lot of things that caused irreparable damage. Now what? Do we torture him forever? Why? Because he deserves it? How do we determine that without comparing one kind of pain to another?

It’s custom and kindof generally respectful not to compare people’s pain too accurately, because different things vary greatly in severity depending on the person that experiences them.

At what point do we say he’s suffered enough without comparing exile to the prison?

And if we DO compare, does that even make the question easier to answer?

And if he’s never suffered enough ever, killing them would be a mercy...

At what point has a person done enough damage that they “deserve” to die? What if someone only did half of the things c!Dream did. But if c!Dream gets infinite punishment, and half of infinity is still infinity, do they ALSO deserve endless suffering?

Do you think every person that did something you can’t emphasize with deserves to suffer for eternity and die?

I’m not saying we SHOULD emphasize with c!Dream. He did things we cannot justify, that NOTHING can justify. He did things that were, by their nature, unjustified.

I’m also not saying anybody should forgive him. I think it’s a GOOD thing that c!Tommy doesn’t want nor is narratively pushed to forgive c!Dream.

But c!Dream doesn’t need c!Tommy’s forgiveness to be... a person.

There’s a saying that I’m sure you know, that goes “I wouldn’t wish it on my worst enemy.”, because there’s things you wouldn’t want any human being to experience. Not because you like them, not cause you think they’re right, but because they’re human.

And perhaps this is my personal opinion, but I don’t think c!Dream being a bad person justifies dehumanizing him, because then we get into an area where someone needs to meet criteria just to be human.

I met someone once, whom, because of outside circumstances I knew I probably wouldn’t meet again. We’d been getting along just fine for people who just met, and were both getting into an interesting discussion about morality. They kept insisting upon something I kept refuting, so they said they needed to get something off their chest.

They proceeded to tell me that they had, years ago, while a teen, manipulated someone in a relationship, pushed boundaries and tried to convince them to do things they didn’t really want to do to get what they wanted.

They cried, while telling me, too terrified to tell anybody they know, terrified nobody would ever speak to them again, insanely regretful of their actions. They didn’t know whether to go back and apologize or just stay as far away as humanly possible, didn’t know which one the right thing to do is.

It had been years, by then, and I talked them through it. I said that what they did was bad, and there’s no going around that. But I also said what I saw, which is someone who would never do something like that ever again. I saw a human being. Someone who regrets a mistake they did and now, after enough time has passed, would do anything to make it undone.

Someone who is too terrified to be close to anybody in fear that they would do it again. I don’t remember if they already went to therapy or not, but it was definitly on the table, or in the near future.

They asked me how I could possibly even keep talking to them after they told me all that. They implied they felt like some kind of monster despite literally chocking back tears, firmly convinced they don’t deserve to be close to anybody in their life ever again.

I never swerved from the fact that what they did was wrong, and harmful. But I also told them they’re human. The universe isn’t keeping score. They want to be a better person now, and they were never going to learn how if they never let themselves be close to anybody.

I told them to seek therapy, and to slowly, carefully, try. Assured them that the fact that they regret it so strongly will at least help them in not falling back into the same pattern, and if they do, they can learn to recognize that.

They thanked me after the conversation, genuinely, especially for the fact that I didn’t sugarcoat what happened, because I know otherwise it would’ve felt like I was lying, like I was just sparing their feelings. I wasn’t. I was thinking about how to make sure they get to live without hurting anybody.

As per the circumstances, we didn’t speak again after that, which we knew basicly from the very start.

I still think about that conversation a lot.

Do you think they should’ve been locked up for life after it happened, instead?

Do you think this real human being, that I spoke to, that took years to realize their mistake - and never would have realized it if they hadn’t had the time to, if they’d been killed right afterwards - deserves to suffer forever?

Let me tell you something, from someone who’s been in more than one abusive situation: People that hurt you are human.

That doesn’t mean you have to forgive them. That doesn’t mean you have to like them. That doesn’t mean you have to make an effort to understand them. That doesn’t mean you need to go anywhere near them ever again.

You can hate them. You can be angry at them. You can (and should) go as far away from them as possible, and/or defend yourself.

But that doesn’t mean you have to dehumanize them.

You’re allowed to hate and dislike people that are human, because you’re human, especially if they hurt you. That’s how life is.

And to go back to my original point - c!Quackity torturing c!Dream is not something that should be celebrated.

There’s a difference between necessary measures (locking c!Dream up so he doesn’t hurt anyone), and torturing people for fun.

It’s not right. It’s never going to be right, and do not justify literal torture on human beings, and do not make someone lower-than-human to justify torturing them.

Taking revenge on someone for what they did tenfold is romanticized, I know, but I promise you it’s not actually as cool as it sounds.

#dreamwastaken #quackity #awesamdude #dream smp #dream smp analysis #dreamteamspace speaks #negativity #fandom critical #its finished and Im finally free #c!Dream #c!Quackity crit #c!Quackity critial

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sleeping-on-cracking-ice · 3 years

Note

can u do the sfw alphabet for nigari pls??

Sure! Hope you enjoy! 💕

SFW Alphabet | Suguru Niragi

{Alice In Borderland Masterlist}

Character: Suguru Niragi

Genre: dark

Warnings: strong toxic relationship themes, obsessive themes, blood, threatening, manipulation, gaslighting, physical & emotional abuse, a couple of suggestive themes, mention of body checking, mention of killing sprees

Author’s Note: I know I’ve mentioned this before, but just a reminder that I prefer to write Niragi as his true character. I would prefer not to pretend that he’s secretly a good man, because he’s not. Please do not read if you find any of the warnings upsetting or triggering! I don’t want to make anyone uncomfortable!

*this is based in the Borderlands

A - Affection

(How affectionate are they? How would they show affection?)

His love language is so hard to decide

I think he’s a mix of quality time and physical affection

There would be random times where he would just follow you around The Beach

He wouldn’t necessarily even talk to you, just trail you like a shadow

You would be well aware he’s there, he’s not that good at keeping quiet since he’s such a heavy-foot

But you never tell him that, and just give him the satisfaction of believing he’s being sneaky

He would give you random pecks on the cheek when walking past you in the halls

There has been times when you would be talking to someone and he would just run up and pick you up from behind and run off while laughing

B - Best Friend

(What would they be like as a best friend?)

He’d be the most annoying piece of shit

You’d never get alone time, he would always just pop out of the most random places just to annoy you

He wouldn’t want a best friend that couldn’t take his harsh jokes

Everyone at The Beach would be terrified of you two

You’re like the most dangerous duo, no one would want to be put with you two for a game, it’s a guaranteed lose

C - Cuddles

(Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

He would have a weird obsession for cuddling you

Would NEVER do it in front of anyone else though

He’d demand your cuddles, like he would get angry if you refused

Sometimes would just randomly grab you from your friends and drag you to his room so he can lay his head on your lap

“Play with my hair,” “Niragi, I wasn’t finishe-” “Shut up and just do it.”

Would fall asleep just from you braiding his hair

Don’t move though, if he wakes up he’ll accuse you of trying to leave

D - Domestic

(Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)

He kind of pushed you into moving into his room with him

He said it’s better because it’s bigger due to his higher wristband number

Would start to believe that you’re kind of becoming more close from moving into his room

But, he’s so bad at maintenance

His job is security, so he doesn’t know how to work in a kitchen or let alone clean

You’d have to clean the room and wash the laundry yourself

Sometimes Niragi would feel a bit guilty and try and help, but would fail miserably and become too embarrassed to even keep assisting

E - Ending

(If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

Brutally

No remorse whatsoever from this man

If he broke up with you, he would tell you in the meanest way possible, probably through public humiliation

If you broke up with him though, oh no hun

He’d at first just not let you break up with him and give you a warning

But if you didn’t listen to his warning, all hell would break loose

I’m talking about pouring buckets of blood through your windows, shooting bullet holes through your door with his rifle in the middle of the night, threatening to kill those close to you

You wouldn’t be able to take it, eventually just going back to him just to make him stop

{Here’s a short headcanon elaborating on this further}

F - Fiancé(e)

(How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)

Getting married in the Borderlands is impossible, but Niragi would always look towards the future with you

He would’ve dreamt about going back to the real world and finally being able to marry you

Sometimes he thinks maybe you could run away from The Beach with him and get married by yourselves

But yeah, he would be quick with moving forward and be committed completely to your relationship

G - Gentle

(How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

You already know what I’m going to say

He would never be gentle, it’s not in his personality at all

Physically, he wouldn’t be fragile with you

He’d rough you up a lot, grabbing your wrists or pulling you harshly by your shirt

But when you approach him about it, he would gaslight you into believing that you made him do it and that he has to control you to keep you safe

Emotionally, no

Doesn’t hold any regard for your feelings, says whatever the hell he wants to say

Don’t even think about opening your emotions to him, he would shut them down so quickly by belittling you

“Aww my wittle bunny feewing sad? Deal with it, I’m not a therapist.”

H - Hugs

(Do they like hugs? How often would they do it? What are their hugs like?)

Very sudden and tight hugs

Always gives you a jump scare by sprinting up behind you and throwing his arms around your waist

He would hug you as often as he could

He doesn’t care if you refuse his hugs when it’s just the two of you

But when you refuse in front of people, he gets embarrassed and makes a mental note to teach you a small lesson later

I can imagine him having quite warm skin, so sometimes you would push yourself into his arms if the breeze was making you cold

I - I Love You

(How fast do they say the L-word?)

Would say it as a joke, before you guys were even together

Probably to tease you, or take you by shock

Or maybe that was him being genuinely honest

In the relationship, he would say it when you’re mad at him, because he can’t take you seriously when you’re mad

“Niragi can you cut that out!?” “NOoooo I love you~”

J - Jealousy

(How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)

Ohhhh no, they can’t get any worse than this man

His jealousy would be out of control

You can’t even smile at anyone else in his presence

If you did, he would grab your jaw and make you look at him again

One time a new member of The Beach thought that they could try and kiss you, not knowing that you were the infamous Niragi’s S/O

Let’s just say that no one saw them after that incident

He also once backed a man against a wall with his sniper rifle to his head for staring at your ass for a bit too long

Don’t make this man jealous, it never ends well

K - Kisses

(What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

He would use so much tongue it would be suffocating

And he would hold your head in his hands roughly so you couldn’t pull away

When it’s just you two by yourself, there wouldn’t be a moment where his lips were off you

Is obsessed with kissing your neck, could never get enough of it

Would absolutely love it if you kissed around his ears, like he would melt

When in out at the pool or in the lobby with everyone else, he would actually prefer to not kiss at all

He would feel weird if people stared, cause you were his and his only and he didn’t want other people looking at you

L - Little Ones

(How are they around children?)

He would hate kids

He wouldn’t carry a shred of love for them

Most kids would be terrified of him anyway

Kids (if there is any at The Beach) would approach him because they thought his piercings or gun was cool, but he would say some freaky shit that would scare them off

I mean most people would tell kids to stay away from him anyway

But he would have this weird love for watching you play and look after kids

He didn’t know what it was, but it always made him fall deeper in love to see you playing immature games just to keep the children happy and smiling

M - Morning

(How are mornings spent with them?)

You would always wake up before Niragi

Don’t try and leave the bed though because otherwise he would instantly wake and drag you back into his arms and hold you ten times tighter like a cage

Most mornings would be you laying in bed contemplating what to do for the day while waiting for Niragi to wake up

When he does eventually, he would instantly want cuddles and kisses

You don’t get a choice in it of course

Waking up would be a slow process, but you would get there eventually

N - Night

(How are nights spent with them?)

Niragi always works around The Beach until late, so he would probably tell you to go back to the room around 11pm

You would spend the time reading or sitting out on the balcony and watching the stars

Niragi would come back and walk out to the balcony to find you

He would wrap his hands around your waist and push his face into your neck, nipping at your skin

“Are you coming to sleep or what?”

O - Open

(When would they start revealing things about themselves?)

This man would have walls upon walls upon walls

He’s never opened up to someone before and he wasn’t going to start just because he had a partner

He spent years building his personality so he could protect himself from others, why would he suddenly tear it down?

He wouldn’t, the furthest you could ever probably get with him is during a screaming match between you two, he said something in the heat of the moment about his shitty childhood

You would freeze and not say anything as he storms out

But other than that, you were never getting anything out of him

P - Patience

(How easily angered are they?)

I actually don’t think he’d be that easily angered

You could do anything, scream at him, punch him, insult him but he would always keep that cocky smirk on his face

But if you were to publicly humiliate him, that would be another story

If you try to show dominance over him in front of his militant group or other members of The Beach, he wouldn’t hesitate to slap you in front of everyone

He always wanted to be conveyed as the top of the food chain at The Beach, so if you came anywhere near to damaging that reputation, he’d make sure you were put in your place

Q - Quizzes

(How much would they remember about you?)

Every little thing

He’d know you better than you know yourself

It would honestly become frustrating though, because he would know when you’re lying or when you’re hiding something just from your body language alone

I feel like he would ask the chefs who made food at The Beach to always make your favourite dish that reminded you of home

It would probably be the only actual human decency Niragi would show to you

R - Remember

(What is their favourite moment in your relationship?)

His favourite memory of your relationship would be when you brought back a gift for him after your game

You walked past a cute trinket shop on the way back and saw a small glass raven in the window

You thought Niragi would like it because one of his favourite animals is a raven

He would be over the moon excited, but would try to play it off like it’s nothing

He’d keep it on his bedside table and clean it everyday so it stays shiny

S - Security

(How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?)

He’d never let you out of his sight

He’s incredibly controlling, so he wouldn’t let you have a say in most things

He would always have you by his side, arm around your should tucking you into his chest

No one would even approach you when you’re with him because they’d be too scared he’d get the wrong idea

One time he threw someone over the bar counter and into the glass alcohol bottles because they thought they could try and lure you into their room

He’d be very much over dramatic, almost killing anyone who tried to hurt or flirt with you

At games, he would not let go of your hand

He wouldn’t let you do anything, he would drag you around and kill anyone he sees

Being with him would be a guaranteed win every time, but he sure would make you feel awful about it

T - Try

(How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

He wouldn’t put that much effort at all I think

He’d see all that petty romance stuff as insignificant and a bit stupid

Wouldn’t bother remembering anniversaries, I mean there wouldn’t be much of a point while being stuck in the Borderlands

He has the mindset that you should devote yourself to one another without the need of gifts or dates

The closest you would ever come to getting a date with him is those nights you would spend together on the roof to look at the stars

But even then he would complain about it, because you would have to end up dragging him up there yourself since he doesn’t let you go anywhere without him

U - Ugly

(What would be some bad habits of theirs?)

You already know

Too many to count

He’s violent, he’s aggressive, he’s overprotective, he’s obsessive, he’s abusive, he’s unforgiving, he’s stubborn, he’s unempathetic, he’s psychotic

The list could go on forever

It would always make you question why you ever got involved with him in the first place, even if he didn’t give you much of a choice

Probably the only good thing you would get from him is constant attention and guaranteed protection from anything that could potentially harm you

Being with the scariest man on The Beach would have few pros, but they would still be useful at times

V - Vanity

(How concerned are they with their looks?)

I actually think he’s really concerned about his physical appearance

He probably pierced his own eyebrow, nose and tongue while he was in the Borderlands to appear more threatening

In the mornings, he would take forever to get ready

Probably does body checks in random reflections throughout the day

Yeah idk, I just think based off his personality, he would try so hard to come across as intimidating to keep his insecurities away

Sometimes he would tell you to tell him your favourite things about him just to reassure himself

He wouldn’t even care if you were lying, just hearing it would make him feel somewhat less insecure

W - Whole

(Would they feel incomplete without you?)

He would go clinically insane if he lost you somehow

He’s obsessed with you, why wouldn’t he?

If you didn’t return from a game or if you randomly disappeared, a few people were definitely become a victim of his rage

Would go on a killing spree, blinded by his anger and sadness

Would probably regret it and just sob loudly in your shared room for a bit, hugging your clothes to his chest

He would go searching for you everyday, wouldn’t even keep track of his visa

He had to find you, otherwise he would lose himself further than he already had

X - Xtra

(A random headcanon for them)

I feel like you would be the only person who would be allowed to touch his sniper rifle (I hope that’s what his gun’s called)

I mean obviously not to use against him, but he would give it to you if he ever had to be separate from you during a game for some reason

He would take you out to shooting practice, just aiming at crows or tree branches to help you get the hang of it

Sometimes the shot would be so forceful you would fly backwards onto your back

Niragi would always laugh hysterically at you when that happens

He would never let you use it at The Beach without his supervision though, he’d be so scared you would injure yourself

Y - Yuck

(What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?)

He would hate a partner with a huge personality

Would very much prefer someone who was more quiet and timid, because they would be easier to control

And he just loves the thought of looking after and protecting someone, even though he’d be really bad at making you feel safe around him

He wouldn’t like someone who acted independent and didn’t need him

He’s insecure so he would need that reassurance that someone wants him

In general wise, I think he would hate sleeping

Somehow he just manages to run off 2 hours sleep everyday

He would get tired but he would just despise sleeping for some reason

It might be nightmares of insomnia, but he never really would bring it up so you wouldn’t ask

Z - Zzz

(What is a sleep habit of theirs?)

He has to be hugging something

He cannot sleep without having both arms and both legs wrapped around you

If you were being stubborn, he would just squeeze you tighter

You’d still be in the same position in the morning

Doesn’t care if you’re overheating, he if wants you close then he’ll make sure you are

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astaroth1357 · 4 years

Note

Oh! How about the brothers with a very emotionally open MC? Like, they ain't ashamed to cry or express their emotions because they think that it's healthy to speak about your emotions to others! And they're also really good at telling what people are really feeling. Please and thank you very much! And congrats on 1,500 followers! You deserve it!

The Demon Brothers Reaction to a Very Emotionally Intelligent MC

Let’s be honest, in a game centered around resolving interpersonal family drama, this is kind of what the MC has to be canonically. Also um… I made the decision, for whatever reason, to listen to the Grand Escape by Radwimps while writing this, and uh, it got… deeper than intended. Whoopsie. 😅 I guess that's the hazard when you're so dependent on what you hear to set the tone for what you write… Sometimes you make a questionable decision and you mess up at the foundations 😕 My bad.

BIG, BIG Spoilers for Part One (Lessons 1-20)

Lucifer

To be honest, he took it as a sign of weakness for some time.

Lucifer closes his emotions off to others because he views them as a vulnerability... This is why he wasn't completely surprised that the powerless human they brought to the Devildom was, in his eyes, overly emotional.

They were never afraid to say what they felt, show sadness to others, or even admit their fears… Though he appreciated the honesty, he wrote it off as a sign of human fragility and assumed they wouldn't last long. Not unless they toughened up and started to shut themselves off like him...

But that never happened. And one by one, he watched his brothers get won over by that feeble, emotional mess… He didn't understand it nor did he like it. At one point he even swore to himself that he wouldn't let whatever spell they casted on the others affect him too.

At least, until the attic incident came to light and he finally realized that the human wasn't a mess at all.

When Belphegor escaped and the bombshell that he had been holding finally came to light, he honestly felt lost for the first time in centuries… He didn’t know how to approach the topic, he just wanted to hide away and let it all sort itself out… but they wouldn't let him.

It amazed him how easy it was for the MC to empathize with his brothers and even himself through the whole mess. It was like they knew how everyone felt before they even had to voice it… He loathed to admit it, but for that moment they looked even more composed and capable than he did…

It was their handling of Belphie that really sealed it for him, though. A weak, pathetic, powerless little human talking down a being far beyond their capacity to fight? Then still offering him some comfort in the aftermath? He couldn’t have pulled that off... He’s long since forgotten how.

The MC managed to open his eyes to what emotional strength looked like and, from that point on, he never doubted them again.

Mammon

Mammon's go-to approach to feelings is unconvincing denial and his brothers generally aren't much better... So actually being open and straightforward with one’s feelings is almost a foreign concept to him.

So when the MC got dropped into his life it threw him through a loop. They were willing to just… say what they felt whenever? They’d cry when they needed to, laugh whenever they wanted, and generally tell people how they felt about things openly and honestly? What?

Weren’t they scared of being teased or made fun of? You can’t be that open down in Hell! Demons would take advantage of you!

And yet, the longer he spent with them the more he started to kind of get it… And then he started to genuinely love it.

They didn’t mind when he’d bawl at movies or talked about when his brothers were bothering him… Sometimes he didn’t even need to say anything to them. They’d just see something was off in how he was acting and offer a hug... No questions asked. No shame involved.

It was refreshing. Eye-opening. Hell, even comforting to just be himself for them. Sure, he still had to keep up appearances in front of his brothers to keep from being mocked, but when they were alone? He truly could act however he felt like for the first time in a very, very long time... And he treasured that.

Leviathan

Emotions are… a thing for Levi and not a thing he's that well equipped to deal with either…

So of course, he initially felt envious of the MC when they came down to the Devildom. They had no problem with navigating their feelings. They didn’t mind talking about them or crying or admitting when they were nervous and even worse? They could actually handle it all.

Levi doesn’t tend to make his emotions very secretive either, but when he got into a mood he usually couldn’t dig himself out of it... It doesn’t help that his brothers were so used to his complaining that they’d ignore his self-deprecation rather waste their time contradicting him...

When he first saw them in action, though, he had walked in on them crying, but they didn’t tell him to leave or try to hide their face. They just let him say what he needed to while they let the tears run their course... then explained to him what the problem was later. They weren’t ashamed… Hell, they even looked like they felt better to have it off their chest…

How come he never felt any better after he had his episodes...? Why did he still feel like a worthless piece of shit all the time?? What kind of cheat code did they use for that?! It’s not fair!

Little did he know, talking feelings out to yourself (or your goldfish) is one thing. But talking to someone who actually wants to help is another thing entirely.

The first time he went on one of his rants, the MC just watched him quietly. It was like he was tearing down a house meant for demolition...and then they started picking through the pieces. They didn’t try to shame him hating himself, they just started pulling out things he should love instead. Stuff he never even considered before…

After that point, they became very good at noticing when he was going to a dark place and intervening before he could beat himself down again... After a while, he started leaving his room when he felt that way so he could go find them and talk.

If his mind was an ocean then, for the first time ever, he finally felt like he had a way to weather the storms...

Satan

Didn't trust it, didn't trust them, and thought it was all an act for the longest time...

Satan knows a thing or two about putting up a front, so he's the most skeptical of other people's intentions…

When he first met them and saw open they were with their emotions, he thought it was all some kind of act. Like they were just trying to gain sympathy or lure everyone in so they could manipulate them later… But he wasn't buying it.

While he watched the rest of his brothers fall to their charms, he counted himself lucky as the smart one. He thought he could see the game they were playing and he wouldn't let himself be tricked into it...

… But then the whole book fiasco happened and he found himself around the human more often. Not only did their openness really seem genuine, they actually listened patiently to his complaints about Lucifer, his birth, his rank, his rage... everything. Just nodding along and watching him intently…

After a while, he started to question if they were even listening anymore so he questioned them. Point blank. He wanted to know what they thought and… their answer surprised him.

“I think you want to be your own person.”

To him, that answer came right out of left field. What about any of what he was just saying had to do with his identity??

But the more he thought about it, the more he realized it had everything to do with it. And they deduced it so quickly from just a few conversations… He was impressed (and somewhat terrified) to have been read so easily...

For a while, he just had to study them. He wanted to know more about what kind of skills they used to understand him so effortlessly...

Though he never quite got a clear answer out of them, he found that he could respect their talent regardless and, just this once, let himself trust someone else wholeheartedly...

Asmodeus

If you're looking for a demon in touch with the emotions, then you don't have to look much further than Asmo. But even he can have blinders on sometimes…

When he met the MC, he actually liked how open they were about their feelings. He even shared their sentiments so he wasn’t bothered at all.

But when he bunked with them and Simeon in the Demon Lord's Castle, he got to see a different side of them…

After Simeon dressed him down about his narcissism, Asmo did his best to just gaslight the whole thing and put it behind him. … But the MC was watching.

Something must have tipped them off. Maybe a glance at the floor or look in his eye... Maybe just how utterly incapable he was to acknowledge Simeon's words… but they noticed that it bothered him.

"Don't let it get to you... I think you're doing great down here."

"Well of course I am, sweetie. Why wouldn't I be?"

Their reassuring words puzzled him at first... How was he supposed to take them? Were they pitying him? If he were Lucifer, he'd have half a mind to obliterate them for that alone...

But they didn't seem like the type… Asmo could read people just as well as they could, he knew sincerity when he saw it. Were they just trying to help…?

He kept that thought to himself throughout their time together in the Castle. Good heart or not, he didn't want to make getting a pact easy for them. He’d never bow to just anyone.

But after they proved their worth, it all started to click for him. This human was trying to reach out to him when they thought he was hurting… They didn't just write him off as shallow and self-absorbed. They were concerned for his feelings even when he wouldn't acknowledge them…

Asmo hung extra close to the human after that. He found someone willing to look beyond the image he worked so hard to keep up... Even if he didn't need their help quite like his brothers, he could see their effort and loved them even more for it.

Beelzebub

Beel is a straightforward guy who can appreciate straightforward people so he and the MC got along pretty well from the start.

He liked that he didn’t have to read between the lines with them. If they were upset, they’d tell him. If they needed to vent, they’d warn him. If they were happy and having a good time, they didn’t feel the need to hide it. It made life so much easier for him…

Of course, he couldn’t actually tell how good they were with emotions until he started opening up about Belphie, Lilith, and everything that went down before they all became demons…

He was kind of amazed how easy it was to speak to them, even during the painful parts... They never pushed him too much or pried for answers he wasn’t comfortable giving, nor did they make him feel bad for what happened to Lilith or missing his brother...

Honestly, they always seemed to know just how he felt about every new detail he told them. When he finally came clean about his guilt over the whole thing, they didn’t look shocked or surprised… If anything they looked just as pained as he did to have received the confirmation…

He found it oddly comforting to speak to them about pretty much anything after that. He knew that they’d listen and understand no matter what he put in front of them, and after they helped Belphie…? He’d happily love and trust them for the rest of his days...

Belphegor

"It wasn't your fault."

Those four words still ring in Belphie's ears from time to time… An echoing reminder of sorts…

He spent so long wrapped up in his own guilt, unable to talk about it to his brothers, that it turned him bitter and angry… He felt like he was the reason they were all in this mess to start with and that everybody else knew it too…

But hey, he'd say, at least down here there wouldn't be any humans around to ruin things. No humans there to steal away his family like before...

Which is why he snapped when Diavolo said they were introducing humans to the Devildom. How else was he supposed to react? They were just tempting fate for another disaster! Hadn't they learned anything at all??

While he was locked in the attic and the human came to his aid, he honestly took joy in deceiving them...

...At least at first. But on repeat visits, he started to feel his resolve slip.

They listened to him. They seemed genuinely interested in helping him and invested in his family's struggles... They looked like they cared for his brothers and even made efforts to reach out to him too... They told him about their worries and troubles in complete sincerity… with total trust...

He'd spend hours reminding himself that humans weren't meant to be trusted and all reasons he had to hate them... Repeating it all like a mantra until he felt convinced again. On the day he escaped, he finally had the pleasure of killing them himself...

But then, like a roach that just won't die, they came back and told him about Lilith… all before they said, "It wasn't your fault."

No one prompted them to say it. He'd never voiced it before... It was like they just knew... Like they could read the pain in his eyes this entire time…

He still doesn't quite share their stance on, "It's always okay to cry" so he doesn't like to dwell on the complete breakdown he had after that… He wished his brothers weren't there to see the Human-Hating Belphegor accepting a hug from them while he trembled and cried into their shoulder…

But he couldn't deny that he needed it. And from that day on, he’s accepted that he needed them as well...

#obey me #obey me shall we date #shall-we-date-obey-me #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #obey me headcanons #obey me scenarios

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animeyanderelover · 3 years

Note

R!Ciel and O!Ciel fighting for childhood female darling (Do you think they could share?)

Here again, please keep in mind that I’m not completely finished with the manga yet.

Tw: Yandere themes, unhealthy mindset, unhealthy relationship, possessiveness, obsessiveness, manipulation, paranoia, threatening, blackmailing, bribing, controlling behavior, sabotage, kidnapping

R!Ciel and O!Ciel fighting over their childhood friend

☕️🍵I don't think they would be able to share, at least not with both of the twins agreeing willingly or even reluctantly. Ciel thinks that he has the right to be the heir of the Phantomhive manor since he fulfilled all the duties of one the last four years whilst his brother wasn't there. He was clearly enraged due to the inauspicious return of his older brother and declared war to him by dismantling one of the blood factories which "Ciel" needs to function. He is exceedingly competitive and doesn't stop fighting until a victor is declared. It's the same with fighting over the same darling

☕🍵"Ciel" on the other hand desires a rivalry between his brother and was somewhat excited when finding out about the blood factory. On the other hand he seems to have an obsession over his little brother and it probably intensified after after he became a Bizarre Doll. Such creatures run on their past dreams and "Ciel's" past dream used to be with his little brother and the darling. So his obsession became stronger too, for both the darling and Ciel. He still wants to be with his brother, but after he nearly died and was saved from Undertaker, he became so much more willing to cause his little brother great troubles. I can see him planning to win against his brother, for the position of the heir of the Phantomhive and the darling, and afterwards get his hands on his brother as well and controlling and keeping them both for himself. Despite all he does still care for his brother, in a twisted sense, but it's there! He would still not be above taunting his brother if he should win.

☕🍵Even when all of you were younger, "Ciel" was already very possessive of the both of you. He was most likely more lenient with letting his brother spent time with you since Ciel suffered from asthma and for that couldn't leave the house for a longer time until it slowly got better and he was able to leave the house more often too. "Ciel" wanted to protect you even back then, together with his brother you were very important to him. I do not doubt that he might have liked you even back then, just like his younger brother did. Back then Ciel had a bit more of an advantage, most likely because he wasn't engaged to Lizzy. So the small boy sometimes talked that he wanted to marry you later on since you were together with his older brother one of the very few people who he was able to play and spent time with. He shared maybe the dream of opening a toy store in England together with you.

☕🍵"Ciel" was jealous because of this all, because his little brother and the girl he liked didn't have to be forced into the things he had to do. His partne had already been chosen, his life was already decided. He cared for his brother and knew that Ciel liked you, but he got jealous nevertheless and it might have led him to pleading his father if he could eventually not be the fiancé of Elizabeth, but with you. He had this dream of marrying you, just like his brother had. His parents most likely knew about his and Ciel's love of you and it worried them a bit. But separating you from the twins was a bad idea. "Ciel" would express his frustration an his anger and Ciel would be saddened and in a bad mood with his older brother reassuring him that you'll come back to them.

☕🍵But "Ciel" was from a very early age on just so much more charming than his younger brother was. He was more open, more playful, more fun to be with and could do much more with you than his brother could. It made Ciel worry a lot, knowing that due to his sickness he couldn't do all the things his brother could do. Due to that he always clinged somewhat onto you whenever you were with him. He was insecure, knowing that his brother was more of a fitting partner you might later on desire than him and due to that like him better later on that him.

☕🍵After "Ciel" died, his brother took his identity and the name of the Earl of Phantomhive. He had become a more cold and cruel individual. He had lost his brother and went through a terrifying experience which made him much more possessive over his childhood friend. He most likely managed to break off the engagement, using Sebastian as a way to set up rumors which led to the Midford's and him ending the engagement. He would be very smart about it just like his brother would be, though he would be more colder about it. I think since you knew them since childhood, you might realize that this isn't the real Ciel, but his little brother. And Ciel himself wouldn't want to keep this a secret for too long either. He had to go as a child through the fear of the darling potentially ending up liking "Ciel" more than him and whilst he didn't plan on his brother to die, he takes this advantage to make the darling his.

☕🍵He most likely kidnapped his darling so she wouldn't tell anyone about his real identity and locked her just up in his house with Sebastian and the servants making sure she doesn't escape. The servanta have unswaying loyalty towards their master so they wouldn't really believe you whenever you tell them that this isn't the real Ciel. You're somewhat stuck with Ciel having the upper hand.

☕🍵So the sudden appearance of "Ciel" ruined his plans and if it wouldn't have been for Lau and Ran Mao helping him escape, he would have ended up in a lot more troubles. "Ciel" would be for now the one who has a hold on his darling since she would be really thankful for his appearance since Ciel kept her isolated all for himself and it is also good to finally have the truth spilled out. Whilst "Ciel" isn't necessarily angry with his younger brother taking his identity, he is mad that Ciel treated you the way he did, abusing you directly mentally and being harsh with you. This isn't "Ciel's" style. I don't say he's any better, he is actually the more terrible one. But he is just so much more sly and charming about his way of manipulation and after years of being kept from the world, and since Ciel isn't the best in showing affection and his feelings too openly, the darling is just starved for more human feelings which "Ciel" uses to his advantage.

☕🍵He brings his darling into staying isolated anyways, whatever love he held beforehand for her became twisted and enhanced due to his transformation into a Bizarre Doll, though he doesn't tell his darling from this so she doesn't feel freaked out or scared. But he does uses his sudden physical dysfunction and weakness to guilt-trip her into staying with him. He was for years away and went through too much so it would be no wonder in her mind that he himself is love starved as well. He would be so much smarter about the engagement and use Elizabeth's confused feelings to break off the engagement again, but this time officially since the previous break up wasn't real due to his brother playing his role.

☕🍵He would quickly progress into courting his darling and making her his fiancée. He would just end up confessing his love after just spending time with her and given the circumstances, she might not have the heart to reject him and there is probably also the thought in her mind that this is "Ciel", the charming and caring boy. Nothing like his brother. That's what he is counting on, but in reality he is so much more fearful and terrible than his brother, instead of threatening and blackmailing, he relies more on gaslighting and effective guilt-tripping. He makes you paranoid of the world without you even knowing and you have to attend to him anyways more due to his weakened body.

☕🍵Currently Ciel is in a worse position, mostly because he doesn't have you. He is of now seen as a criminal, but at the very least is not alone. He has all his servants, Ran Mao, Lau and Sebastian by his side. He knows that his brother wants a fight, over power just as much as you and Ciel doesn't back exactly off from this. He's frustrated with the current situation and wants to turn the tables around. He knows "Ciel" can only function as long as he has plenty of fresh blood since his body needs it to function. So he plans on starting with cutting off all the places where he gets that blood from to beat him once and for all.

#yandere black butler #yandere kuroshitsuji #yandere ciel #yandere ciel phantomhive #yandere real ciel

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bitchassbucky · 3 years

Text

.zip

Word Count: 2k

Warning/s: toxic/abusive relationship dynamics, gaslighting and manipulation, abduction, injuries were mentioned, stalking, dark!bucky x dark!reader, emotionally/mentally unstable!reader, dismemberment (not gore-y but still), three very special character mentions, shady corporate stuff, career sabotage?, food mention, sedation/drugging, f-words.

A/N: oh my god, this is the final chapter of CTRL. to all who read from the start, thank y'all so fucking much - from the bottom of my big-ass heart, thank you so much for coming along with this journey. this is my first FINISHED series, oh my god. to @babyboibucky (CTRL's number one fan), @sarge-barnes-sir, and @borikenlove thank you so much for indulging my inner degenerate GHJSDFG and for screaming (affectionately) at me when i first let y'all read the finished draft.

BUT THIS IS NOT THE END (just yet), i will be uploading TWO epilogues very soon: the explicit version and the not-so-explicit version. stay tuned!

follow the CTRL series:

i - .exe

ii - .avi

iii - .raw

iv - .png

v - .zip

epilogue:

.eps (explicit)

.eps (cut)

CTRL playlist CTRL moodboard

Your demeanor, character, even tone, changed.

Calculated, cold, unnerving.

But you sat there like a housewife in front of her husband, eating spaghetti and meatballs. Acting all dandy like there isn’t a man strapped onto the chair four feet away from you.

“C’mon, darling, eat! I made your favorite,” your eyes twinkled as Bucky helplessly tugged on his restraints, “oh, sorry, you’re tied up.”

Hm, sick in the head, bad for the heart.

“What do you want?” Oh, wow, even talking hurts for him. His throat is all dried up, he tasted something bitter under his tongue.

You chuckled, moving half a meatball around your mostly empty plate, “for you to stop treating me like I’m stupid.” You spear the meat with your fork, swirling it in the sauce, “I know you’ve been… checking in on me, Bucky.”

Oh, fuck.

“Look, I’m sorry, okay? I was-- I mean, look at you--” He’s making it worse. You’re mad. You’re angry because he was being a good friend.

He only did that because you were lonely and he’s right: you are lonely.

So lonely that you’re willing to kidnap a grown man to keep you company, “I’m so sad for you.”

“You’re aware you’re the one’s been tied up, right?” You’re curt as you should be, scooting over near Bucky to feed him.

“I can’t eat that—” If he wasn’t sitting down and tied, Bucky would’ve vaulted over you and called the neighbors, she’s fucking crazy!

You giggled, rolling your eyes as if he had the freedom to make a choice right now, “if you’re thinking of screaming… More than half of my neighbors are felons or on parole, I doubt that they’ll call 911.”

Jutting forward the fork, you let the prongs gently touch Bucky’s lips, “now, eat! We have so much to talk about.”

“No. I don’t-- I’m not hungry.” He shakes his head, the fork hitting his chin and clanking down the floor.

“Just eat the fucking food, Steve!”

Bucky flinched at your sudden outburst. The words—the name—seeping in a moment later. Steve? Who the hell is Steve? Was he your husband? Boyfriend? His head throbbed again, his mouth filling with saliva like he’s about to throw up.

You kneel down, pulling a napkin from the table to wipe the meat and the sauce from the floor.

“This better not stain.”

—

He promised thrice.

Once over pasta and meatballs, once over dessert, and once when you were clearing the table.

You relented, of course. Half because you love him and half because it’s getting annoying.

“As long as you don’t leave me, okay?”

“Yes, I promise. I won’t leave you.”

Bucky’s still seating on the dinner chair, slightly slumped without the ropes holding him up, “look, I’m really sorry about the anesthetic, I went overboard with it.” You look over to him—at least he’s regaining his fingers and arms again.

“It’s okay, babe, I wouldn’t trust me either.” If he could stand up, he’d go over and hug you. Helping with the dishes, peppering you with sweet kisses.

A genuine laugh slips out of your lips, “ugh, still… I’m really sorry.”

The last of the plates were neatly stacked, cups and cutleries were placed gently on a drying rack. It was getting late, you could tell.

“I’m not mad, by the way.” You muse, prompting Bucky to lean forward, listening to you.

“What do you mean?” He takes your hand into his, ever so gently.

“You did that,” you squeeze his hand back, gazing into his soulful eyes, “because you love me.”

Did you know that some people could read microexpressions well? Bucky went through a whole lot of them before answering, “of course, I do.”

Contemplating whether you call him out on it or not, you hum, placing a gentle hand on his jaw, “it’s okay, you’ll learn how to love me.”

He has to. He has no other choice.

Bucky clears his throat, “have you seen my phone?” His tone was hopeful, upbeat, maybe he can reach out to someone, anyone, before you can do any more damage.

“Yeah, ‘s on the couch.”

He tried to move, he really did. Bucky’s fairly strong, he can bench an easy 140 on a good day. But even the beefiest motherfuckers have no match for Propofol.

“Don’t worry about your friends, they’re not worried about you, Buck.” The coolness of your tone sends Bucky into a panic—again. “D’you wanna check your messages though? There’s a lot of ‘em.”

Grabbing his phone, you asked Siri to read him his latest notifications.

Urgent: Notice of Immediate Termination

From Joaquin: Where are you, man?

From John W.: Do you have copies?

Urgent: Notice of Immediate Termination

Urgent: Gross Misconduct

From Joaquin: Bucky, what the fuck?

From Samuel Wilson: Pick up the phone, Barnes. You’re fired.

17 missed calls from an unknown number

From John W.: I knew you were a freak but holy shit, dude!

72 text messages from an unknown number

Bucky never really liked horror movies. It made him jumpy and anxious. Too paranoid, even. But now? Now he’s sure that people have never experienced sheer fright before.

His toes cramped inside his boots, his feet were cold, sweating. The little hairs on his legs stood up, goosebumps littering the entirety of his body. If he held his breath, he’s sure he could hear his heart hammering out of his chest. The blood rushes past his ears and onto the base of his skull—he’s gonna be sick.

“What,” he gulped back the saliva pooling in his mouth, “what did you do?”

You’re irritatingly calm, “well, I mean… We’re already together, what do you need those for, right?”

Putting a warm hand over his forehead, you cooed, “poor thing, you look sick.”

—

Bucky thinks it’s well past midnight when the anesthetic wore off.

His limbs were heavy, he had to lean on the wall every couple of steps to regain his balance. Helpless. He’s helpless and you both know it. As if it’s a bear trap, Bucky carefully took his phone from the coffee table.

Why would you leave it unattended?

The screen lights up as soon as he picked up, his lock screen littered with ‘fuck yous’, ‘sicko’, and his personal favorite, ‘motherfucker.’

Ignoring the glaring messages, he went straight for the emergency dialler and—you took out his SIM card, snapping it into two neat pieces, placing it beside the phone.

Bitch.

The golden surface of the card was scratched too, he can’t do anything, use it as a toothpick, maybe? His phone was just as good as a paperweight.

He looks out of the window, limping towards it. Even if he could climb over, it would take him forever to get onto the street. Your neighbors would probably think that he’s just on a bad trip.

“It’s bolted shut. Perks of living alone as a single female.” Your voice made him flinch back, like a kid whose hand was halfway down the cookie jar.

Bucky plays it off with a cough, he can’t be weak now, “no, babe, I was checking out a noise. You ready for bed?”

You smiled softly, taking his hand and draping his arm on your shoulders as you prop him against you, “almost, big guy. Gotta get you settled in bed first. Are you tired?”

Nodding, Bucky kisses your temple, “yeah.” He just needs to play with your sick little games until he regains his strength.

Where would he go? His reputation and his job are besmirched, his apartment is probably crawling with forensics too.

“You fell down and banged your head earlier. Nasty cut on your head too. I told you to not tire yourself much.”

You hit and drugged me but I digress, “Yes, darling. ‘M sorry.”

“You scared me, Buck. I thought you were dead.” Are these tears forming in your eyes?

“I’m not leaving you, not by any chance. I promise.”

He promises a fourth time.

—

Your bedroom was bigger than he thought. But of course, he only saw your desk and your bed through the webcam.

Save from the Ted Bundy-esque corkboard you have in front of your workspace, he feels weirdly at home. You tucked him in, reminding him to wake up every two hours for the painkillers.

“You’re not going to bed?” He muses from behind you, all cocooned in your blankets.

“Just need to take this phone call real quick, babe.” Your back was turned from him as you work on your company laptop. He noticed that the webcam is covered with white tape.

The sound of an incoming call filled the room before you quickly answer it, your voice turning hoarse and raspy as if you’ve been crying.

Hi, Mr. Wilson. I’m so sorry for the late call. Do I- do I need to come in tomorrow? I just... I don’t feel comfortable facing everyone—I used all my home hours this week and—

Miss L/N, I’m glad you reached out to me. Is it okay if I record this call for security purposes? It’s just for you, me, and the HR department.

You turned to Bucky, your face is stone-cold but your voice belonged to someone so utterly helpless.

No, you don’t have to call into work tomorrow… Or any other day.

A dainty gasp and a fucking sob comes out of your mouth, your eyes were telling a different story.

Am I fired?

God, no. Please, Miss L/N, don’t worry about that. We want you with us through this entire debacle. We want you to take some time off—paid. We’ll also grant you… a grievance package.

You could almost hear what he would say next.

As long as you don’t talk to any members of the press or any journalists until our friends in the PR department can clean this up.

A triumphant smile creeps on your bare features, putting a finger in front of your lips, you mimic a ‘shh’ gesture to Bucky.

You round up another mirthless sob as the CEO drones on about the bureaucracy of this whole thing.

He was really nice to me, you know? He took me out on dinners and lunches. He even brought me to his place and I– nothing happened but I can’t stop thinking about it.

I’m really sorry, Miss L/N. I thought he was…

A good guy? I really thought so too.

Please stay offline for a bit, just for the weekend, alright? Someone from the HR department will be in touch with you for the process. We don’t wanna be a hassle more than what Barnes is. On our behalf, please accept our deepest apologies.

Jesus, this guy had the PR department cook up an apology letter.

Thank you—thank you so much, Mr. Wilson. I’ll keep in touch.

You burst out in laughter a second after the call ended. Hearty laughter, the one where you can feel your belly tightening.

“Did you hear how good I was, baby? Oh my god, we had them fooled.”

We? Fuck your ‘we.’

You slide over the covers, propping up yourself with your elbow as you turn to face Bucky, “don’t worry, you don’t need them anymore. You have me, yeah? We have each other.”

—

Out of the most bizarre things that happened to him last week, finding dismembered fingers in the fridge was the least of his concerns.

“Honey!” Bucky calls out, holding the ziplock bag with a pair of tongs.

You bound down the stairs, your laptop in hand as you squint, “what am I looking at?”

Bucky hesitated, maybe he’s going insane too, “fingers. Dismembered fingers—are these yours?”

Setting down the laptop onto the table, you peck him on the cheek, smiling as if him holding a baggie with human remains is just your Sunday normal, “god, I hope not. I need my hands to do things.”

As soon as you look back at him, you dropped the facade: “those are Steve’s. Well, used to be.”

Bucky’s afraid to ask the question where’s the rest of him?

“You know the term pinky promise, right? Well, it has a dark origin.”

Just as fast as a bustling train, Bucky rakes his brain for all the times he promised you something. Hoping that he won’t end up with a stump for a hand.

One vividly bright memory is seared into his brain though, the days blurred together with sharp edges and mismatched colors: we love how we were taught to love.

So, who taught you how to love like this?

#bitchassbucky writes #dark!bucky #dark!bucky barnes #dark!bucky x reader #dark!bucky x reader smut #dark!bucky x reader fluff #dark!bucky x reader angst #dark!bucky barnes x reader #dark!bucky barnes x reader smut #dark!bucky barnes x reader angst #dark!bucky barnes x reader fluff

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whumpinggrounds · 3 years

Text

Hide n Seek

sooo this doesn’t have a title but Liam came into my head and would not leave so? here we go?

lmk if you like it or you hate it or want to see more. or if you have a title or anything to say or for any reason at all :) talk to me!!

CW: failed escape, escape attempt, environmental whump, big whumpee, tiny whumper, female whumper, nonconsensual drug use, drugged whumpee, scrapes and bruises, gaslighting, uhhh i forget what else. nonconsensual touching but it’s also nonsexual

Dark branches tear at Liam’s skin hard enough to draw blood, but he won’t stop running. On either side of him, trees loom up, huge and bristling with needles. The ground tilts sickeningly under his pounding feet, and as he slips and skids over icy ground Liam throws his body from side to side, trying to dodge the obstacles that pop up, seemingly out of nowhere. He’s pulling it off – barely – and then a towering red spruce appears out of nowhere. One of its lower branches, thick around as a lead pipe, catches Liam in the side of the head and sends him reeling.

Liam lands on his knees, breath whooshing from his lungs. The blow to his temple makes his head spin worse than it already was, and his whirling vision isn’t doing any favors for his roiling stomach. An unbearable heaviness in his limbs makes him long to stop, rest, maybe lie back on the frozen, muddy ground and let the blessed chill ease the fever heat in his brow.

As the desperate, exhausted thought crosses his mind, a faraway sound reaches his ears.

“Lavender’s blue…dilly-dilly…lavender’s green…when you are king…dilly-dilly…I’ll be your queen…”

The words are sung in a voice that’s high and light and almost fey. The sound stops Liam’s heart, makes ice water run through his veins. Dashing frightened tears from his eyes, Liam scrambles to his feet, ignoring the bleeding scratches, the ache in his bruised and frozen knees. Behind him, the voice drifts piercing and eerie through the trees, and, driven before it like a sacrificial lamb, Liam picks himself up and crashes onward.

Head reeling, body aching, so sick to his stomach he spends every step fighting not to vomit, Liam runs. He runs until he slips and falls, hitting the ground hard enough to knock the wind out of himself, mark bruises on his skin. Then he gets up and runs some more, staggering, faltering, missing steps, head empty of any instinct besides move forward, get away. The headlong sprint through the woods feels like it lasts forever. Snatches of song reach Liam’s ears, distorted and giggly. The forest rears up on every side like so many dark green walls – towering large, endless in every direction. Liam’s ears are ringing, his throat is dry, he can hear his own breath heaving unevenly in his chest. The terror in him is so raw and real that he can almost taste it, salt and iron, blood on his tongue. He’s choking on tears as he staggers onward, but scared as he is, all he can think is what if his sobs are too loud?

When Liam sees light through the trees, he thinks he’s dreaming. Stumbling forward, hardly daring to believe, he feels new hot tears spill down his face. Like a drowning man, he stretches his arms toward salvation, straining as if it’s something he can hold in his hands. Then he’s stumbling again, toppling forward, knees and then hands and then body kissing pavement.

Unable to stop himself, Liam sobs in simple, blessed relief. Pavement. The ground beneath him hard and unforgiving, solid and uniform. Above him, big plate glass windows spill yellowy light into the gathering darkness. The miracle of sidewalk, of concrete, of buzzing phosphorescent light!

Liam is weeping like a baby into his scratched up, icy hands. Now that he’s horizontal and staying there, now that the adrenaline has done just about all it can for his body – now, Liam starts to let go. His body feels both distant and incredibly close. He can feel every individual bit of concrete against his skin, and he can feel himself buzzing against the inside of his skin, and there’s a cloudiness in his head, a big and growing white threatening to envelope him, leave him blissfully out and unaware.

“What in the - ? Son? What the hell is wrong with you, son?”

The voice is gruff, incredulous, more than a little suspicious. Peering up through hazy eyes, Liam sees an older man coalesce into a hazy double-focus, bearded and grizzly as his tone suggests. The flannel-clad bear of a human recoils at the sight of the tears on Liam’s face, lip curling as he takes in Liam’s disheveled appearance.

“H-he-e-elp,” Liam manages, one hand reaching up, wavering and buzzing static in his vision. Even to his own ears, his voice wavers, rises and falls, distorted by hoarseness and God knows what else. “I n…need hel-l-l-p.”

Narrowing his eyes, the man continues to regard Liam with blatant doubt. Liam tries to morph his face into something acceptable, an expression that’s beseeching without being desperate or deranged. His muscles respond slowly, sluggishly. He can’t remember how to manipulate his face. Giving up, Liam leaves his mouth slack and just looks up, inches a little closer, pushing his body over the pavement, ignoring the way the cement rasps against his skin. He doesn’t want to try standing, yet.

Strange things are happening to the man’s face – his cheeks bloat, blow up grotesquely as he talks. His eyebrows, thick dark beetles, worm and writhe over his deep-set eyes, which are more like holes than real eyes. He’s towering over Liam, so tall the man on the ground can’t help but shrink a little bit against the pavement. His mouth is moving and Liam watches it with a dull kind of fascination, forgetting to pay attention to the words that emerge as shapeless sounds from that dark cave of a mouth.

“Help,” Liam tries again, seeing the way the word feels on his tongue. It sounds like it’s coming from very far away. “Huh…help?”

“Boy? What is wrong with you, boy?”

The man is waving his hand around in front of Liam’s face, looking for some kind of a reaction. When Liam just keeps staring hazily up, the man shakes his head. He starts talking, but the words dip and circle around Liam’s head, refusing to find his ears, refusing to find his brain. Every so often a word or two comes through – a revelation.

“…fucking cops…”

“Hellllp,” Liam whispers, turning his head to rest one hot cheek against the concrete. His head is pounding so bad it makes him feel sick. Or maybe he just feels sick. Either way, he’s wrung out, exhausted, ready to be done. Liam is tired. He gives up. He’s ready to be done.

Shutting his eyes to try to block out the loud and angry spinning world, Liam forces words out as best as he can make them. “Pl-l-l-e-e-eease. Please.” In his chest, he feels a little hitch come with the word, a shaky breath that prefaces a whimper. The sound is so small, so utterly pathetic. Liam didn’t know he could make a sound like that. “Ple-ease help me.”

The man squats down now to peer a little closer at Liam, at the young man laid out flat on the ground, not even trying to get up. “…what is…come from…”

The words aren’t landing with any greater frequency, nor are they making much sense, but Liam imagines he hears a grudging warmth in the tone that wasn’t there before. Maybe concern, instead of suspicion. Maybe aid, instead of exasperation. He lets himself slit his eyes open, see the hazy outline of the figure above him, leaning in. He lets himself hope.

Then he hears the gasp from behind him, long and loud, high and flighty and dramatic. Suddenly, Liam can’t breathe. He shuts his eyes again, trying to block the nightmare out, but it’s too late. She’s already here.

She throws herself down beside him, drapes herself on top of him, small hands roaming from his broad shoulders down to his waist, as if checking that he’s still whole. She’s so small. She’s always been so small. Doesn’t make sense that she can be all over him, everywhere at once when she’s so…damn…small.

“Philip!”

She trills it, sweet as any songbird. There are tears in her voice, real tears, and a burbling wet kind of laugh of relief that would tug at the heartstrings of anyone who had a heart. “Oh God, Philip, oh, don’t scare me like that.” She presses a warm kiss to his temple and Liam groans out loud. “Oh, sweetie. Oh Philip. Oh.”

One finger traces down the side of his face. The feeling comes through hideously clear and sharp. If it were a picture, it’d be Technicolor, while the rest of the world scrapes by in staticky black and white. Liam presses his face harder into the concrete, wanting to escape, to sink through, to disappear. She picks up his head and cradles it with one little hand.

“…know this…?”

Liam wishes, more than he’s ever wished for anything before, to understand the words of the man standing over them. Instead, the man remains indistinct, distant, unreachable, while every word she says rings loud and perfect in his ears.

“Philip is my brother,” she explains, voice so sweet it conjures honey on the tongue. “He’s…he’s…well, he’s not right.”

“…see that…”

“Well.” A firm but gentle hand smoothing over his wild hair. “We don’t know what exactly it is that’s…wrong.” Locked inside his head, Liam is screaming. All that emerges from his mouth is a low, indistinct moan. Above him, Delilah chatters on, her voice taking on a tragic tone. “We suppose it could be genetic. Or it could be…well, he was in a bad way with drugs, my brother.” She strokes his back, a long, possessive touch. “It’s not his fault.”

The man above them grunts. His voice is still so distant, coming in and out like radio waves. “…damn fool thing…cold.”

“I try. I really do try. He’s just…he gets away from me sometimes, I guess.”

“…huge motherf…little thing like…”

A laugh, carefully calibrated to sound just a little forced. “Philip is my brother.” Another long, tender caress down his back. Liam pants into the pavement, head spinning. “I love him. Of course I’m going to look after him. I have to.”

“…need help?”

Sprawled out on the ground, Liam heaves a dry sob. Those words, words he wanted to hear so badly just minutes before, now offered to the exact wrong person. The conversation goes on above him, but Liam can’t waste his focus listening to it anymore.

Squeezing his eyes shut, Liam takes stock of his aching body. His knees are bruised and sore, his body scratched all over. He’s exhausted and cold and his muscles feel distant, tingly and out of touch. Even lying on the ground, his head pounds and spins. If there was anything left in his stomach, he’d definitely have thrown it up by now. All he wants is to stay where he is and rest. He wants to feel right again, in control of his body and his mind. He wants to give up, give in, be allowed to sleep and heal and rest. Liam just wants this to be over.

But he can’t just yell surrender and expect Delilah to leave him alone. She’s hopping to her feet now, standing to shake the stranger’s hand. If he has a last chance, this is it, so Liam grits his teeth. Dredging up every last bit of meager strength, he places his palms on the ground beneath him and pushes up. His arms are shaky, and nearly give out, but he manages to slump into a sitting position before his strength fails.

From his place sitting on the pavement, Liam can peer up pitifully at the two people above him. The flannel-wearing man is facing Liam, which means Delilah is facing away from him. He has a window, a precious small amount of time, in which he can just maybe make his escape. Swinging his head to the side, Liam examines the storefront he’s ended up outside of. The vinyl booths, the matching countertops – it’s a diner, all the lights inside aglow. If Liam can just make it inside. If he can just get his story out.

He has to move quickly. Sucking in a quick puff of cold air, Liam leans back and pushes off the ground, flinging himself to his feet. Almost before he’s all the way up, he’s throwing himself into his next step, staggering forward with all the grace and control of a drunken grizzly. Speed is his only chance, and also his greatest enemy. As Liam lunges forward, his body gives out under him. He stumbles, wailing in frustration, stretching his hand out for the door even as he goes down.

Before he can hit the pavement for the second time in ten minutes, the stranger catches Liam. It sounds like it takes a good amount of his strength, because the man grunts as Liam’s chest smacks his shoulder, but he stays where he is, all but holding Liam up.

Even though the guy seems to have decided to take Delilah’s side, gratitude leaves Liam breathless.

“Your brother is heavy,” the man complains, his gruff voice booming through the air right next to Liam’s ear.

“He was a football player,” Delilah explains, and surely anyone could hear that smug, faintly covetous tone in her voice? Surely, this man can see the way she squeezes his bicep as she runs her hand down his arm?

The man throws one of Liam’s arms over his shoulder and drags his unresisting body toward a parking lot. Stumbling along, Liam tries to stay on his feet, though now his hectic vision is starting to fade entirely. On his other side, Deliliah hovers along, her hand so light on his back that he should hardly be able to feel it. Somehow, though, while his entire body is distant, prickling, offline, that handprint burns in his awareness, heavy and hot and stinging like nettles. Liam whines under his breath, trying to make his thick tongue form words.

“Shh,” Delilah soothes, drawing so close he can feel her breath on his arm. “Shh, Philip, honey, it’s gonna be all right.”

Still whining like a kicked dog, Liam is dumped unceremoniously in a foreign backseat. Crawling up next to him, Delilah waits until the man is seated in front of them to perch herself basically in his lap. With greedy, grasping fingers, she tugs his leaden body over so Liam’s head is resting on her shoulder. At first, Liam fights it, but when the car starts up the winding mountain road, he subsides. The curving motion of the road sets his stomach roiling, so he’s too nauseous to do anything but let his head flop back as he tries to open his airway and breathe.

Cooing, Delilah cards her hot little hands through his hair. “Poor Philip,” she murmurs, voice sweet and conciliatory. “Poor honey. Didn’t I tell you no one would believe you?”

#whump #whump writing #big whumpee #tiny whumper #female whumper #environmental whump #hypothermia #escape attempt #failed escape #failed escape attempt #drugged whumpee #bruises #gaslighting #nonconsensual drug use #headache #original characters #original writing #liam #delilah

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clonecest-bin-account · 3 years

Text

300 followers bingo - Fives/Tup/Dogma | Fairytale AU

(In which Dogma and Tup are locked inside a tower. Will anyone come to save them?)

(TW: gaslighting, abusive parental figure. They’re not the focus of this fic, but they’re still there)

For Dogma, the outside consists only in what he’s able to see from the tower’s window, a dream that he’ll never be able to reach.

Father Krell has been clear to with him from the start: this is from his own protection. He wouldn’t be able to survive out of the tower, that’s why Father Krell is kind enough to give him sanctuary in this tall tower, which at least gives him a pretty view of the forest surrounding it.

He’s always accepted his condition, and he was even grateful to Father Krell for keeping him safe, but with time, he grew lonely, and with loneliness came the want to go outside, something that Father Krell couldn’t have.

That’s how Dogma meets his first ever friend: a kid about his same age that Father Krell brings him one day.

“I’ve found him on the street all alone,” he says, looking at the boy with sadness in his eyes. “I thought that he could use a friend. Was I wrong?”

Dogma stares at the boy who’s holding Father Krell’s hand with the same curiosity with which the boy is looking at him, then he shakes his head. “No, you weren’t, Father Krell.”

The boy smiles.

Father Krell can’t stay for long. Knowing him, he must have some very important business to attend to.

It’s then that Dogma realizes that he still doesn’t know the boy’s name, so after a moment of hesitation - he never spoke to someone else other than Father Krell - he asks him.

“What’s your name?”

“I-I’m Tup…” the boy replies. He looks afraid, but how can he be afraid? Does he think that Dogma is going to hurt him? Oh well, it’ll pass, Dogma is sure.

He smiles, stepping closer to Tup, who tenses, but doesn’t step back.

“I’m Dogma. Let’s be friends?”

Tup stays silent for a moment, definitely thinking about something, but then, something must change in his mind, because he smiles as well.

“Yes, I’d love to.”

From that first moment, Tup’s demeanor around Dogma changes as he goes from not trusting him, to really becoming his friend.

He has no family, and has always lived in the streets, so that’s why at first he was rather standoffish, but he warms up to Dogma quite fast, seeing how earnest and even naïve this boy is.

“So, you never left the tower?”

Dogma shakes his head. “Father Krell says that I wouldn’t survive outside…”

Tup furrows his brow. “What do you mean?”

“I don’t know…” Dogma shrugs. “But I’m sure it’s something serious.”

“Mmmh… I guess,” Tup replies, but he doesn’t sound very convinced. Dogma wonders why; hasn’t Father Krell helped him too? Why would he not trust him? That sounds very ungrateful of him.

And yet, when Father Krell comes back and Tup asks him why Dogma can’t go out, he’s very vague in his response. Dogma understands: it must be such a complicated matter than they would probably not even understand it!

Tup thinks differently. To him, Father Krell is suspicious.

“What do you mean?” Dogma asks, because even though he doesn’t agree with him, he’s still willing to hear him out.

“If this was truly something dangerous for you, he’d tell you more,” Tup explains. “Instead, every time we try to ask him, he dodges the question.”

“Yeah, but…” Dogma begins, but then he stops, thinking about what Tup has just said. He’s not wrong: there’s no reason why Father Krell shouldn’t be straightforward to him.

“Do you think he’s hiding something?” he asks Tup then.

“Maybe,” Tup shrugs, “or maybe not. I don’t know him well enough.”

Dogma hums. See? Not even Tup has anything on Father Krell, even though he was the one doubting him, despite his kindness.

Still, Dogma forgives him for his rudeness, because that’s what good people do. He still can’t help but to smile, knowing that he’s protected Father Krell’s reputation.

Time passes, and Dogma and Tup grow each day, together in their loneliness.

Not even Tup can go outside now: war has come to their land, so Father Krell has erected a magical barrier so that nobody - except him - can enter or exit the tower.

Dogma supposes they’re pretty lucky to live in a tower in the middle of a very inhospitable looking forest, which would be a bad terrain for battles, so things are pretty calm around him and Tup, but still this doesn’t mean that they’re not worried about it.

“Do you think they’ll come for us?” Tup asks, once. He’s trying very hard not to show it, but he’s worried too, maybe even more than Dogma is, because he at least has faith in Father Krell’s protective magic.

“Why should they? What would they gain from us?” he replies, hoping that it’ll be enough to calm Tup, who still looks unsure, but it’s better than before.

“Mmmh, you’re right.”

Dogma doesn’t say anything else, but he scoots over where Tup’s crouching, and gets down to his level, only to then envelop him in his arms, holding him tight.

“We’ll be fine, you don’t need to worry about us,” he mutters then, softly.

At those words, a small smile appears on Tup’s lips. “Oh but I do worry. I mean, you don’t even know how to defend yourself…”

Dogma pulls away, looking quite offended by that - unfortunately true - insinuation. “You!”

Tup laughs, and the sound of his laugh is the most beautiful thing Dogma has ever heard, as he gets Dogma back into the hug. “Don’t worry, if push comes to shove, I’ll protect you.”

They’re close, very close, closer than they’ve ever been.

“You promise?” Dogma asks, subconsciously edging even closer.

Tup nods, and is Dogma imagining things, or is he mirroring his movements? Is he getting closer too?

The kiss should feel unexpected, and yet it doesn’t.

They’ve spent so much time together by now, that actually it feels as natural as breathing does.

At least for a while, they don’t get to worry about anything else. There’s just Tup and Dogma, the rest of the world be damned.

… It feels great.

“How long do you think this war is going to drag on for?” Tup asks.

He sounds bored, extremely bored. Well, it’s nothing new at this point: after a while, the worry about their safety has been replaced by boredom. It’s also been a while since Father Krell has come visiting them, which makes everything worse, because it means that they have no way to tell what’s going on outside their tower. The only thing they can do is to look through the windows, though that doesn’t offer much of an answer, unfortunately.

“I don’t know…” Dogma replies, then he sighs. “I just hope it’ll be over soon.”

“Yeah, you an’ me both…”

Having each other is a small blessing, because they manage to keep each other calm and keep themselves busy.

Still routine is routine, and routine is boring, even when they’ve begun kissing each other.

It makes Dogma almost feel nostalgic, because he finds himself sharing the same thoughts he used to have before Father Krell introduced him to Tup: he wants to go out, he wants to leave this damned tower.

Unfortunately, he can’t do it because of Father Krell’s magic, but even if that wasn’t there… what if it’s all mistake? What if he truly dies out there? Father Krell is doing this to keep him safe, what if he jeopardizes everything with his recklessness?

He knows how Tup feels about this: he wants Dogma to get out too.

They could escape, since Father Krell doesn’t seem to be around much, but then, where would they go? How do they find their way out of the forest? Sure, Tup has come from outside, but it’s been years since he’s set foot outside the tower; what if things have changed in his absence?

If they really want to escape, they’ll have to make a very good plan, or else it won’t work, or worse, they might even lose their lives.

Still, they’re determined, and there’s nothing they wouldn’t do to make it work.

They’re just about to decide the last few things, when something peculiar happens, something that changes everything.

The day’s going about as usual, when they hear a voice from outside, and it’s not Father Krell’s.

“Heeeey! Is there anyone up there?”

Both Dogma and Tup run up to the window, peeking over it in order to find the source of that voice. There he is, a man in steel armor and on a white steed! A knight?

As soon as he notices Dogma and Tup, the stranger’s eyes widen in surprise. “Oh! I was told there was a beauty locked in this tower, but they didn’t tell me it was two beauties instead!”

At those words, Dogma makes a face. “Is he for real?” he asks, incredulous, turning towards Tup who, differently than him, looks actually amused, grinning at the stranger’s words. He supposes that flattery works on him better than it does on him.

“Who are you?” Tup asks then. Dogma almost reels back from how loud Tup’s yelling, but he supposes that there’s no other way, if they want to be heard by the knight.

“I’m sir Fives, knight of Skywalker kingdom!” the man replies, lightly bowing towards them.

“Fives?” Tup whispers to Dogma, snickering. “What a dumb name!”

Dogma shares Tup’s hilarity about this subject, but he doesn’t dwell on it too much, since this could be their occasion to finally get out.

“What are you here for?” he asks, then.

“To save you, of course!”

Save… them? What?

Do they need to be saved?

Dogma and Tup exchange a confused gaze, then Dogma asks. “Uhm… Save us from what?”

“From the evil sorcerer, of course!” Fives replies, sure of himself, even though he’s finding it pretty weird that the supposed captives don’t know that…

Dogma’s about to ask him for an explanation, because he has the sneaking suspicion that he’s talking about Father Krell, but he doesn’t have to time to do it because Tup covers his mouth, speaking over him.

“Y-Yes! Of course! It was only a test!” he lies, sending a glance to Dogma that he’s immediately able to decipher: don’t say anything. “Please save us!”

“Tup! What the hell!” Dogma exclaims, once he manages to get out of Tup’s hold.

“What? He’s our way to finally get out!”

“But didn’t you hear him? He talked about an evil sorcerer! We don’t know anyone like that…”

Tup raises an eyebrow at him. “Don’t we? Are you sure?”

Realization dawns on Dogma’s face. “Do you really think it’s Father Krell?”

“Maybe. There’s only one way to find out, and it’s if we go with the knight,” Tup replies, expression weirdly serious. Dogma doesn’t think he’s ever seen him like this; he supposes he’s taken this matter to heart, and he’d lie if he said that isn’t curious about what Father Krell’s real deal is, because by now it’s obvious that he’s hiding something, though Dogma still isn’t sure if he’s truly doing it out of malice, like Tup’s convinced himself of.

He nods, but then another thought occurs to him. “But wait! What about the war?”

“Do you think that if there was ever a war in the first place, they would waste a knight to come save someone in a tower in the middle of the forest?” Tup replies. “I think Father Krell was lying to us in order to keep us from trying to get out.”

Dogma can’t help but to get upset on Father Krell’s behalf. He owes him a lot, and to doubt him like this… He doesn’t like it. Still, he has to face the reality of the facts, meaning that there is the possibility that Father Krell was evil all along.

There’s only one way to find out.

He looks down at the knight again.

“How are you going to save us? The tower’s surrounded by magic! None can enter, none can exit!” he yells.

At those words, the knight grins, or at least Dogma thinks he does - he’s too high up to make out every single detail after all. “Do not worry! My sword is blessed: it cancels magic!” he says. “I’ll cut you an opening!”

O-oh… That sounds good, very good.

“Dogma! Can you believe our luck?!” Tup can’t help but to exclaim, a grin on his face.

“Y-Yeah…” Dogma mutters back. “Very convenient.”

That’s true, they’ve been extremely lucky.

It takes them a small amount of time to gather all their things; after all, they don’t really have much, just enough to live comfortably, but not excessively.

As they tumble down the stair - maybe a bit too eagerly than they should - Dogma’s still thinking about the fact that this is truly happening, that they’re actually going to leave this place.

For the first time ever in his life, he’ll leave this tower, his childhood home, his entire world.

… He can’t wait.

Knight Fives hasn’t lied to them, because once at the entrance, they’re able to step outside without any hiccup.

Outside, Dogma is outside!

Even the air feels different, Dogma finds, or maybe that’s just his imagination. He half-kneels half-collapses to the ground, touching it fervently with his hands. The grass is so soft! And also… wet. Okay, he’s not sure he likes that part, but for the rest it feels so nice!

And the sun! It feels warm against his skin. So good!

“Wow…” he mutters. There are no other words to describe how he’s feeling right.

Wait… he’s alive! Father Krell told him that he would die if he stepped outside, but he’s still here, and he feels fine!

So it was actually all a lie…

Before Dogma can dwell too much on this truth, a hand stretches towards him, gentle. He raises his gaze and he sees that it belongs to the knight who has just rescued them.

“Here, let me help you up,” he says, and Dogma’s face can’t help but to heat up at those words. He’s so suave.

He lets Fives help him up, muttering then a thanks. Oh dear, he can barely look at him.

“So… What now?” Tup asks.

Fives turns towards him and smiles, stretching his free hand towards him. “Now I’ll take you to Skywalker’s castle so we can figure out why you’ve been locked up here in the first place.”

That sounds reasonable and good. Both Dogma and Tup are very curious to discover Father Krell’s motivations for locking them up.

“Luckily we won’t have to travel too far. How about I help you mount my horse?” Fives proposes.

“And you?” Dogma can’t help but to ask. The horse is big, sure, but he doubts he can sustain the weight of three people.

“Oh, I can walk. No sweat,” Fives replies, and there’s something in that confidence of his that is very endearing to both Dogma and Tup.

It’s incredible: not only they’re outside, but they’ve even been rescued by a dashing knight in shiny armor!

It feels like a fairytale, and somehow, Dogma has the feeling that things will only get better from now on.

Well, only one way to find out…

#300 followers bingo #togma5 #clone trooper dogma #clone trooper tup #arc trooper fives #pong krell #clonecest #cloneshipping #my fics #tw gaslighting #tw abusive parents

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nancydfan · 3 years

Note

I think that Mia gets too bad of a rap from a lot of people.

Like yes, was she an agent of a super shady organization responsible for making a bio weapon that destroyed a great deal of lives? Yes. However we don’t know her motivation for joining them yet.

They could have lied honestly. Like The Connections could have advertised themselves to be a great, loving work environment and maybe Mia was young and naive and joined them. Or maybe she was desperate for money, and it was the only job that would hire her. Or hell, maybe she fully knew what they were and joined anyway, either on account of her morals being twisted back then or thinking that even though the company was evil maybe she could do good. Who knows, honestly.

Either way, with The Connections being a shady organization there’s like a very high chance that you don’t get to walk away from them alive. I’m sure if you quit they’d see you as a liability and take you out with no mercy. And that’s why I think Mia didn’t leave, because she knew she would be killed if she did, and maybe that’s why she took the job with Eveline, because it was more of a “you will do this or else” than an option for her (whether it was implied by her boss or if they were upfront about what bad things would happen if she didn’t take the job).

And maybe if her morals were twisted before I fully think meeting and falling in love with Ethan changed her if that was the case, because the Mia we see in RE7 and RE8 is a good person. We see that in how when the Baker’s rescue her she thanks them but tries to leave immediately and tries to warn them about staying away from Eveline (as shown in the note she left in the dlc “Daughters”). She could have tried to get them to call the hospital or her company but she didn’t, because she knew that she was under Eveline’s control and the longer she stayed there the more danger the family was. If she was a shitty person she wouldn’t have done this, she would have done everything she could to save herself.

We also see that in how she leaves a final video note for Ethan, telling him to stay away no matter what, because she didn’t want him to get dragged down in her mess. She knows how much Ethan loves her and I’m sure she knows if she sent a video saying “Ethan pls help” he’d come running for her, but she didn’t because she loves him and wants him to live even if she can’t be there with him. We see it AGAIN when she saves Ethan from Eveline’s grasp, when she tears him from the mold thing he was in and pushes him out so Eveline couldn’t hurt him. Fully knowing she’d have to face Eveline’s wrath.

And for everyone saying “why didn’t she just tell him then” I mean think about it. I think if this super shady organization found out someone they didn’t hire knew what was going on they’d kill them because again they’d be a liability and a threat. And that’s why she doesn’t tell Ethan because she doesn’t want him to be targeted and killed by them. I think if she had the opportunity she would have left The Connections but knows that it would result in her death anyway, and telling Ethan the truth would just end in his death if they found out and it was too risky in her mind.

And I think it’s this same form of protection that prevents her from telling Ethan he’s infected. She says (or at least we can assume that this was her) in Donna’s section that she didn’t tell him because she was afraid she’d lose him. I don’t think he’d divorce her if he found out he was molded (that doesn’t really make sense for his character), I think she was genuinely afraid he’d die (again) or worse begin to transform into a monster the way the rest of the infected did. And that’s why she keeps it hidden because she was scared to death he’d die or suffer a worse fate. Am I saying she was right in hiding it? No, but I think that everyone saying she’s manipulative and gaslighting are wrong because she truly loves Ethan and Rose, and I know she’d give her life gladly if it meant they could live.

I saw other people get mad because Rose is essentially being used as a bio weapon and how could Mia let this happen and I’m like?? She probably doesn’t have a say?? I mean yes Blue Umbrella is supposed to be “the good guys” now but like they’re still a huge organization, I’m sure Mia did her best to prevent this from happening and keep Rose safe but like at the end of the day what can she really do against a huge company?? If anything get mad at Chris because I’m sure he’s got some clout or something in that company that could have allowed Rose to live a normal life without Umbrella or maybe not being used as a weapon but idk 🤷🏻‍♀️ a lot of people were like “Mia’s sO annoying at the beginning of the game” but fam that wasn’t even her?? That’s Miranda?? Besides even if it was Mia that blew up on Ethan in the hospital (as per Ethan’s diary) 1.) people deal with trauma differently, and I’m not saying it’s healthy but she’s scarred and doing her best and 2.) probably was afraid if they talked too much about Louisiana Ethan would realize he was infected and then BAM he’s either dead or a mutated monster. And in the cutscene of Mia saying “you matter!” Can you imagine the stress of knowing your husband is Mr Mold Man and not being able to do anything about it, out of fear of what could happen to him? Like of course she’s upset and going to blow when provoked (not that Ethan was aggressive or anything just that he was prying into a very high pressure soda that is Mia’s emotions lol) because she’s been bottling this up and has no one to talk to, and after a while anyone would explode. I think she would have told him if he hadn’t answered that call. Also marriage is not rainbows and butterflies, sometimes you get into messy fights with your partner and sometimes you or the other person say things you don’t mean but at the end of the day you love each other and try to be better. If anything Capcom was depicting a normal marriage tbh.

At the end of the day Mia is not the bad guy. She is only human who tried her best to keep her family safe against all the odds and idc what anyone says, Ethan and Mia love each other and have a healthy relationship and that’s that.

I hope I do this ask justice cause this is the kinda ask I’ve been like hoping for cause you are absolutely gosh damn right.

I’m a chill person & I’m never gonna probably get up into someone’s face about anything cause it’s fandom. I’m not here to cater your experience. That being said, when I see some of these frankly bad takes on Mia I’m like

We know Jack shit about why Mia joined the Connections. Literally nothing so people who have a whole solidified nasty opinion of Mia should probably just sit down. You don’t have to like her. But you also could like, idk, be absolutely dead wrong cause lol Capcom went, yeah we’re not gonna explain any of that.

I got the impression that in between re7 and re8 that they are hiding from the connections too but I may have misunderstood that In re8. I think it makes sense it’s the type of organization you do not leave. No matter how badly you want to and once Ethan came along, do people really think she’d risk him? Spoiler alert: no, no she wouldn’t.

Also, re7 started w Alan. He’s the one that let eveline get out of control so...I feel like people forget that.

I’ve been talking to a friend about people using the Miranda Mia against the real Mia and I don’t know how to kindly tell people that the game kinda absolutely explained that’s not Mia? I do think Mias got a temper which makes sense because Ethan is so even tempered that he can balance her out better. But Miranda Mia was a fuckin bitch. She was needling Ethan’s pain and mocking him. Do people think Ethan sat around for three years taking that? Ethan’s a big boy. He can take care of himself. He was even fighting back w Miranda Mia so manipulative and abusive takes belong in the toilet w the rest of the shit.

Mia blowing up at Ethan means nothing. My parents have proven to me marriage is not easy. You will lose it on people when emotions run high. It happens. There’s a world of difference between a moment of anger versus abuse. But you still love and forgive people for moments of anger because we all have them. And I’m sure Ethan can be just as much as a pain in the ass. I love him more than most and I’d be the first person to admit I’m sure he didn’t make it easy all the time either.

Mia held the truth from Ethan because she was scared not just for her but for him too. It’s a selfless kind of lie. We all do them so I don’t know why Mia is getting burned at the stake for it. I’m just not movable on this. That was a heavy thing to carry and she was doing her best.

As for Rose, I don’t even know what Capcom is doing. How can anyone else know? She’s special and powerful. Maybe she wanted that life? I think we can reserve judgement until re9.

Like I said above, no one has to like Mia. Maybe you don’t vibe w her or maybe you still just don’t care for her. That’s cool. But my gosh don’t lie about the kind of person she is. If you can’t acknowledge her world and heart belongs to Ethan and Rose, I’m just not sure what to tell you.

Sorry for ranting on your ask nonnie 😆 I really appreciate that you sent this in! It needed said imo

#thanks for the ask nonnie!!#resident evil #ethan winters #mia winters #mithan #resident evil spoilers #resident evil 7 #resident evil 8 #mrs joe speaks #long post

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feanorianethicsdepartment · 3 years

Text

more thoughts about the homecoming au, the au where maedhros and maglor get brought back to tirion after the war of wrath to be prettied-up trinkets on finarfin’s shelf, with painted-over scars and muffled screams. it is dark, it’s full of all kinds of emotional and caretaker abuse, and the brothers weren’t exactly in a good state of mind before any of this happened. @sunflowersupremes wrote the initial au that wasn’t even meant as horror, @outofangband - this au is as much theirs as mine, several of the concepts here were originally theirs, and a lot of this originally came out in dms with them. part 1 is here. this part contains gaslighting, loss of autonomy right at the end, more suicide mentions (thanks mae) and just general abuse from people who care more about their own comfort than the people they’re supposed to be caring for. it’s worse than the first part, honestly

most of the stuff the fëanorians had on them when they surrendered got taken away pretty fast. which is honestly understandable; some of it was cursed, a lot of it was weaponry, all of it stank to the high vault of the stars

but they both managed to hold onto some personal effects, or get them back before they went in the incinerator. a broken locket, a torn-up book, nothing fancy, nothing large, but things that still mean a lot to them

the valinoreans aren’t entirely comfortable with this. they find a lot of the brothers’ comfort items mildly disturbing, stained with darkness and (occasionally literal) blood as they are. maedhros had this dessicated finger he refuses to explain anything about that got disposed of very quickly

maglor has a few strands of brightly coloured thread, spun around each other somewhat inexpertly. he tends to pull it out when he’s feeling depressed, working it between his fingers until he feels like he can face the world again

one day, one of his minders who gets along better with him asks where he got it. from the twins, maglor admits. it’s part of some embroidery elrond abandoned when they left -

and it’s snatched out of his hands. his minder looks down at him compassionately. ‘i know you miss them, but you caused those boys a lot of pain, you know? you shouldn’t romanticise your relationship with them’

which - maglor’s relationship with the twins was complicated, and while it wasn’t nearly as hellish as elwing fears, it wasn’t entirely healthy. maglor was dependent emotionally on the kids a lot more than any adult should be to children, and vice versa

because the twins were the last people he had left. when maedhros executed celegorm’s servants with no warning at all, this rift began to grow between the sons of fëanor and their followers. they’d always been terrifying, but they’d also been comradely and inspiring, the white-hot stars around which their people orbited. but when they turned their fangs on their own host, all that started to fall away, leaving only the fear behind

it got worse after sirion. by the time vingilot rose in the sky, maglor’s only real remaining relationships were with maedhros, who he hated as much as he loved, and the twins. watching over them, talking to them, not hurting them - it kept him grounded in reality, kept him sane

he knows, he knows, he knows, they’re better off without him. but his time with them is the only happiness in his memories that still feels real

but the valinoreans can’t accept that. the exile was an awful time with nothing in it worth keeping, and the sooner he can recognise that the faster he’ll be back to his old self

besides. their caretakers don’t like being reminded of their more... unpleasant deeds

(elwing sidebar: elwing and eärendil are having an easier time, because the teleri have experience dealing with trauma and are also just more accepting of the right to have your own take on your own experiences. still, though, elwing occasionally hears that a proper telerin mother would have stayed with her children, even if she had to give up the treasure her people died for to the monsters of her childhood nightmares)

(elwing was a young adult in a horrendous situation with no obvious way out, elwing is dealing with her own damage as best she can, elwing is valid, we stan elwing. she’s also one of the few direct-ish sources the noldor have for beleriand and what the fëanorians did there, and her (perfectly reasonable!) perspective colours a lot of their treatment)

in general the valinorean noldor are quite sure they know what beleriand was like and how it felt to be there, and aren’t particularly interested in being proven wrong

it was miserable, it was harrowing, it was nothing anyone should want to think about. it was a long nightmare maedhros and maglor are so fortunate to have finally woken up from

and you can kind of see why they think like that? the ones who have seen the hither shores saw them when ash rained from a void-black sky and almost everything was dead, and the survivors told stories of a long hopeless defeat and cruelties beyond imagining

but that deep black image blots out the genuine joy they felt in those five hundred years, the chance to prove their own greatness, the knowledge they were doing something good, nights when music echoed across the gap, warm hands in a cold fortress. there were things in beleriand worth remembering, aspects of the people they became there legitimately worth keeping

and even if there wasn’t - five hundred years. the scars on their bodies make it plain to see, every little piece of who they are was shaped by beleriand, for worse and for better. they just can’t leave it behind

their valinorean caretakers find this horrifying

maedhros likes to exercise. it keeps him calm, gives him something to do. it’s not something nelyafinwë was super into - he was more the peripatetic type - but it’s a feasible hobby for a noldorin prince to have, so he’s allowed to do it

sometimes, though, he’ll unconsciously shift into the old combat forms, precisely timed drills ingrained into his bodies. the first few times he does this, his minders are bemused more than anything, but then one day he happens to have a stick in hand to use as a mock-sword

then every time he starts to slip away into that meditative trance, hands reach out to stop him and hold him in place. ‘there’s no need to fight here, maitimo,’ an elf he knew before the unchaining tells him ever so gently. ‘you’re safe now’

... they say that, but maedhros’ nightmares keep getting worse

it’s like that with everything that makes the valinoreans uncomfortable. whenever they try to speak of their time in beleriand, no matter what they say, they’re told that oh, they know it was hard, but it’s all over now and they don’t have to dwell on it

but even after they’ve spent years in paradise, maedhros and maglor still won’t let go and allow themselves to heal

they just can’t come to terms with the truth of their ordeal

the narrative the valinoreans have constructed erases all of the bright spots, but it also bleaches out the true darkness

certainly they did horrible things, but did they really have a choice? in such a harsh world, they always had to be on guard, lest they themselves be killed. these poor boys never meant to harm anyone, but their father’s cruel madness and the painful chains of their oath and the vileness of beleriand forced them into atrocities they never wanted to commit

(surely the monsters the sindar spoke of wouldn’t cry. they wouldn’t lose themselves in waking nightmares or curl up shivering in well-hidden closets, they wouldn’t jump away from a casual touch or watch every new person like they might be a threat. they wouldn’t convince themselves the children they stole were happy, or talk to the shade of a dead kinsman they abandoned. surely they wouldn’t. surely)

(because if they are, and they’ve let a couple of orcs loose into the royal palace...)

(maglor and maedhros’ movements are pretty restricted. this is mostly for their own protection, but it’s partially - well, just in case. just in case)

this rankles at maedhros, though he tries not to show it. terrible they might have been, but his choices were his own

he was a warlord, he was a king. he expected to be hated for the things he had done. he didn’t expect to be pitied. he didn’t expect to be dismissed

sometimes, when he’s surrounded by people earnestly telling him that he’s not a bad person, he never was, it was all pressure from his father and the oath, he wants to scream that he chose to attack sirion because he was so, so tired of diplomatically dancing around problems he knew he could solve with his blade

but he stops himself, always. he knows how much what little freedom they do have is based on them not being a threat

and he will not wash this peaceful, innocent land in blood. he’ll kill himself first

maglor has lost all such scruples

it’s not often, but when they’re behaving themselves and no one who’s likely to take offense is in town, the brothers get taken out to court events

they paint makeup over their scars (which still won’t heal, everyone is concerned by the implications of this) dress them up in finery, string them with jewels, and show off how well they’re doing

(even if maedhros rarely says anything, and they never leave each other’s side)

tonight, it’s a feast. a minor celebration, nothing too crowded, nothing too loud. there’s revels and merrymaking and all kinds of fun

and after the food has been cleared away, there’s music

would his nephew like to play something, finarfin asks. it’s hard to tell if it’s a request or a politely phrased order

maglor decides he doesn’t have the patience to be taken aside and tell how much everyone wanted to hear his music, and accepts

finarfin smiles kindly. he’s thinking about how maglor’s minders have been talking about how he’s finally stopped trying to sing depressing or horrifying songs and how his voice grows more melodious by the day

maglor is thinking about how they won’t even let him sing about his wife. he wrote no odes to her beauty or her skill in the forge, but he sang ballads about the swiftness of her spear and her laughter after a battle

none of which the valinoreans want to hear. they want to pretend that love never existed, that there could be any joy found in darkness, that she’s at all worth remembering -

he gets up to play, and launches into the most vicious, most hopeless, most painful part of the noldolantë

they try to stop him, but he’s the greatest warsinger the world has ever seen, he’s sung with blood in his lungs over the roaring of dragons, there’s little they can do to block out everything they’re trying to ignore. he wails defeat and death and grief and death and despair and death

when they finally manage to knock him out, their whole petty festival in tatters, shock on their faces, tears streaming from their eyes, all he can think is that if they understand now, even a little, it’ll have been worth it

for the first time, but not the last, he wakes up in a cell

finarfin comes to visit, and starts giving a very disappointed lecture maglor is in no mood to hear. instead he just snarls that nothing they’ve been doing is helping him at all, and he’s so sick of false sympathy and no one listening to what his actual problems are

finarfin shuts his eyes, says ‘i’m sorry to hear you feel that way’ and leaves

a few days later he wakes up with a collar around his neck

it’s demeaning, but he gets released that morning, so he rolls with it. he gets told to never do that ever again, first by his minders and then by maedhros

his minders he nods at until they leave him alone. maedhros he snarks back at that it’s not like he’s doing anything to improve their condition

only he can’t

the words don’t just freeze in his throat, they can’t even form in his mind. what’s happening, he can’t say. what did you do to me, he can’t say. he can’t even scream

as maglor is clutching at his neck (he can’t get it off he can’t get it off) and all the colour is draining out of maedhros’ face, the minder in the room smiles

‘see? this way you’ll stop making yourself and everyone around you miserable. you can still talk about happy things -’

‘they did this in angband!’ maedhros roars, a statement that provokes his first actual fight with their minders. he’s harder to pin down than maglor. bigger

but their caretakers are becoming annoyed with the brothers’ obstinate refusal to let themselves get better. they may be content to wallow in the misery of their past, but inflicting it on others is a step too far

they clearly aren’t going to move any further down the road to recovery on their own volition, so it’s become clear they need a gentle push. is it a little distasteful? yes, but such things are sometimes necessary in medicine

the bright cheerful princes they will be again will thank them for it

oh god how did this end up so long. the last one should be shorter, it’s mostly clearing up some loose ends. why did i write this

#maedhros #maglor #homecoming au #my terrible fic #finarfin #noldor #late stage feanorians #abuse //#mental health issues ///#suicide mention //#gaslighting //#eeeeeeeeesh #i am not sure what i was trying to get across actually comes across in this #i ran out of unova pokedex before i ran out of fic #(the long one from b2w2. no i'm not explaining that)#it is three am!#and i'm not trying to start anything with that section about how the noldor minimise the feanorians' deeds #other people have their headcanons and that's cool. i have mine #i don't see them as 'entirely evil' (whatever that means) but i have felt like my own imperfections mean i don't deserve help before #... can you tell this is a vent fic yet #mags gets more focus because mags is the character i project onto #i've thought about him more; i have a more solid grasp of what i think his character is #'s why i got nelyo in on this. they're the creme de la creme at bad shit happening to maedhros and i wanted someone to cover his corner #this au is awful why am i writing it

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proudfreakmetarusonniku · 3 years

Text

First chapter of the immortal prime boys au is out!

https://archiveofourown.org/works/32884102/chapters/81605941 or, under the cut (tw: abuse, manipulation, gaslighting, references to past character death)

There is no such thing as a fate worse than death.

That’s what Dream says, at least, and Tommy’s learnt it’s so much easier to just go along with what Dream says. He’d grown tired of fighting even before his hair had faded fully white. He wasn’t even sure why he ever bothered. Dream was his friend- his older brother in all but blood, really- and he’d always been. He’d reassured him of that over and over again when he couldn’t help but think through the Wrong Memories. Maybe back then he believed them.

Tommy hated the Wrong Memories. No matter how many times Dream told him the truth, they still remained stubbornly stuck in his head, even more vivid than what was real. He knew it wasn’t his fault, he was too trusting, too naïve, but he still despised it. He hated being weak like that, even though he knew in truth he was a silly child who foolishly insisted he was more.

Still, he couldn’t help but blame himself for screwing up so much. He couldn’t help but blame himself for falling for Wilbur’s lies about Dream being corrupt, somehow believing Tubbo cared. They just wanted to use him, Dream had made that clear. That’s all anyone wanted from him but Dream.

He understood that. He wouldn’t go as far to say he was fucking grateful or anything- Prime no, Dream could be as annoying as shit and was always as overprotective as fuck- but he understood. Big brothers were meant to be like that, right? He certainly knew little brothers were meant to be a fucking pain, and he certainly hoped he counted as that.

(Not because he’d ever want to hurt Dream, of course, he learnt his lesson on that front so long ago. But that was the role Dream had him play, and it was far easier to let the strings be pulled than try and dance your own tune away from the puppet master’s grasp.)

If there was one thing for Tommy to be proud of, it’s that he could play his role excellently. Sometimes, even he couldn’t tell when what he was saying was him playing along because not doing so only led to pain or things he genuinely, earnestly believed. It didn’t matter anyway. It didn’t make a difference to Dream, and he was the only person who cared.

So, Tommy sat as motionless as a doll, fake (fake?) smile plastered on his face as Dream delicately braided Tommy’s hair. It was part of the delicate, unchanging routine that’d end up shattered and forgotten sooner or later like the last however many routines the two of them had, rearranged into something similar but wrong. Nothing was a constant, not their routine, not their home, not even the colour of the sky. Nothing, of course, but Dream.

Tommy’s hair was styled in the way it always was, however Dream decided it would look for the next however long. Tommy didn’t have a real say in it anymore. He hadn’t, even back when the memories were Wrong. He pulled it out in chunks, hating the white slowly clouding out pale blond, hating how long it was getting. It touched the floor by the time he and Dream became immortal, so that’s how it would be forever. It was annoying as fuck, but that’s just how things were and always would be.

The main braid at the back was what took the most time, but the smaller braids pulling at his hair, keeping his curly fringe barely any shorter than the rest of his hair from constantly being in his eyes, weren’t exactly quick either. It was nice, though, the touch, no matter how much the pull of the braids stung. He could tell Dream, and Dream would probably listen, but the pain was grounding, made him feel almost mortal again, and Dream still got anxious when Tommy hurt himself- which was fucking ridiculous, he literally couldn’t kill himself anymore even if he wanted to, but Tommy supposed it was natural for big brothers to be overprotective.

Tommy was resigned to his immortality, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t fucking hate it. The glimmering gold crackling over his body like a web, replacing the familiar pale peach and raw red of his scars, the heavy unhealing bruising around his neck the same gaudy shade, made him feel more like a doll than a person. Even his freckles had turned the same metallic shade. His eyes, too, but he didn’t mind that. It was better than the ghostly pure white glow they had after the first dozen or so resurrections.

Back then, whenever he looked in the mirror, they reminded him of the Wrong Memories. About Eret, the only one to realise the lies of L’Manburg, and Ghostbur, the mangled version of Wilbur he made up in his head unable to comprehend he hurt him and ruined his mind. Thinking about them in that way made Tommy want to bite his tongue until he bled, even though he knew it was true because Dream said it was true.

(He missed when his blood was red. Now, it was the same shimmering gold that everything but his hair was.)

(Was his blood even ever red? He couldn’t quite remember the shade.)

Tommy had been good recently, so Dream had allowed him to listen to one of the battered and broken music discs he treasured so much. He didn’t know why he did, but it made Dream laugh, and that was good. He thought they might have been something important from back when he was in the server. A gift from Dream, maybe? No, Dream didn’t talk about it, so they must have been from bad times, when he was brainwashed by Wilbur and Tubbo and the other L’Manburgians. His only source of comfort in those dark times, he supposed.

He should be glad they’re dead. Dream made sure of that, made sure they suffered for what they did to his Tommy. He didn’t, though. He just felt numb, and a bit sick.

The music disc was the one with a striped purple sheen, delicately and painstakingly repainted many times before whoever had been doing it gave up. It was once a melancholy tune, but now it skipped and stopped and started so much it was barely recognisable. That didn’t matter, though. Tommy had the song memorised, and that was a memory he knew was real and felt was real, and that was so few and far between he knew he’d treasure it forever. He’d have to.

At least he’d have Dream. That was terrifying at first. He wanted nothing but to be free. That just seemed ridiculous now, though. What would he be without Dream?

(“Yourself,” some traitorous voice from a false memory whispers. The “nothing,” he’s been trained to respond with all but drowns it out.)

“Tommy?” Dream’s voice snapped Tommy out of his thoughts.

“What’s up, big man?” Tommy said. Fuck, his voice was all dumb and raspy again. He had some water like, what, at least like five sleeps ago? His throat shouldn’t be dry yet, should it?

“We’re moving again. Don’t worry, it’s going to be fun!” Tommy rolled his eyes. Dream’s definition of fun involved other people too much for Tommy to do much more than tolerate it. He almost hoped this form of fun was the violent type. It made him feel sick and awful, and he’s pretty sure it’d make him cry if he hadn’t forgotten how to do it except on command anymore, but it wasn’t the all-consuming terror that having to be around people other than Dream gave.

After all, Dream was the only person that cared. He was the only person who was ever kind to Tommy for reasons other than just manipulation. Dream had told him horror stories of how people could be, and the ugly gold-tinted brand roughly scratched just above his hipbones he’d seen while taking Dream’s measurements to sew for him made Tommy wonder if any of them were personal.

Dream hurt him, sure, but it was either just play or punishment. If it was play, then Dream would stop if Tommy asked, and it wouldn’t be that bad, he didn’t even use the axe, and Dream would spoil the shit out of him after. And if it was for punishment, Tommy deserved it anyway, and he needed discipline. He was a brat, and Dream was just being a good big brother.

Still, he swallowed his fear. Dream wanted him to be excited, so he forced as much enthusiasm as possible into his voice. “Fun?”

Dream laughed. “Oh, absolutely. The most fun the two of us might have in a long while! See, I’ve heard rumours about the Goddess of Death. There’s a village in the wilderness that worship her, and they say she protects it.”

“And?”

“And that means we can investigate,” Dream said, in a tone like he was talking to a fucking little kid. Tommy hated it when he did that. He was sixteen, not six. Honestly, he was pretty sure Dream just did it to fuck with him. “She could be the only thing that could pose a risk to us anymore, and you know there’s no such thing as a fate worse than death.”

Tommy nodded. Honestly, he was pretty sure this wouldn’t go anywhere. He’d continue his existence like always, hiding behind Dream’s cape like a fucking pussy and hating what he’d become. He was resigned to that being the constant state of his existence, now.

This, it turns out, wouldn’t be the case.

#my writing #dream smp #dsmp #dream smp writing #dsmp writing #c!tommy #c!dream #c!primeboys #immortal primeboys au #tw abuse #tw manipulation #tw gaslighting #tw death mention #tw murder mention

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gentrychild · 4 years

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Suspected Traitor Izuku Ideas

Note: Sorry this ended up being super long! I just really love the idea and wanted to put in some ideas of what I think could happen. It was all too long to fit into a couple asks, and I figured you would prefer a submission than 7+ asks in a row. These are also just some fun ideas I was thinking of for the au I thought you might enjoy lol

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Izuku gets interrogated and at first goes along with the questions. He doesn’t realize why he is there at first, until they ask more and more questions showing they suspect him for something. After the second or third question about his relation to the LOV he pieces it together. They think he’s a villain.

And instead of having a confused smile or nervous laugh, his eyes widen and he whispers “you think I’m the traitor.” It wasn’t hard for him to figure it out, after all he spent so much time analyzing and trying to deduct things quickly from situations where he barely was given any information, and they practically threw the answer in his face. He was probably one of the few students who was fully aware that there was a traitor from looking at the previous attacks.

He starts to shut down after realizing this, and when people start yelling or slamming things out of anger (because no one was actually going to get physical, but that doesn’t mean the rest of the room was off limits) he unconsciously reverts back to his old habits from when he was quirkless.

This can include, but is not limited to:

- A smaller frame to protect vitals and give less room to be hit

- A quite and passive voice to try appeasing their anger

- Distracting himself from the emotional pain by focusing on the physical stuff. Mentally keeping track over where everyone is, what they are doing, and how much of a threat they are to him

- Looking for any and all possible exits, even the ones that would result in him being hurt on his way out, just in case things get worse (and he fears that they may hurt him worse than before. In a world full of quirks, it’s easy for someone worked up to forget how easily they can kill someone, and Izuku probably has experienced more than once a situation that became life or death because a middle schooler was too worked up to process how much damage they were about to do)

- Eyes downcast due to fearing that eye contact would seem like he’s defying them or trying to irritate them in purpose (thanks Bakugou for that one)

- Holding back sudden movements or flinching, when going to the point of possibly hurting himself on purpose to prevent him from acting out.

- Holding his breath every time someone moves, but forcing his body to relax/tense up in case they attack him. When your body tenses up, it can absorb him impact, but can also cause other things like knives or needles to hurt more when they cut/go through the skin. So when there is someone who has a weapon visible (probably a means of intimidation) he quickly figures out which way will hurt less and forces himself to go through with that because of the constant thought of ‘just in case’

- Forcing himself not to cry or break down. That’s what some bullies want, but sometimes it also makes them even more upset. It gives them fuel, and always ends bad for the victim.

The teachers and others accusing him of being the traitor takes these signs as him lying or trying to hide the truth, those who don’t think it’s because he’s lying see the 'experience with interrogations’ aka trauma reactions and think he was trained by the villains to act this way. No one thinks about the fact that some of the reactions are clearly not helpful with interrogations and that the villains would train him to do the opposite (ex: stay calm and keep eye contact. You don’t have anything to hide and looking away makes it seem like you do).

The only two people who know his past refuse to acknowledge or bring it up.

All might doesn’t because he can’t risk the consequences of OFA getting out, but also because he only has a vague idea because of when he was shoeless himself.

Bakugou refuses to acknowledge the signs and the relapsing to his habits from middle school.

No one else realizes the cause, and as a result they accidentally reopen the trauma that Izuku hadn’t healed from. No, he had taken it and stuffed it into a box to avoid acknowledging that he was hurt. So he never talked to anyone about it, and as a result it just festered in his mind. His intrusive thoughts from all the victim-blaming he went through never went away (because let’s be honest, gaslighting and victim-blaming are things he probably went through as a result of the bullying. He couldn’t help being quirkless, but the bullies will latch onto anything and everything they can. And because they wanted to prevent themselves from having anything marked, if they made him think it was his fault then they felt it lowered the chances of them being reported)

During the pause of interrogation when they are having Tsukachi enter and he’s about to come in, he almost send himself into a dissociative/depressive episode because of his thoughts. He forces it back when the doors click open, thinking 'no, it’s just like before. No matter how much it hurts, wait until you’re safe. You’re not safe here, they will use it against you, so you have to wait until you’re alone and safe to finally break down.’

As a result, none of the adults fully realize how broken he is after the trap/interrogation is over. But its only a glimpse that they see, and nothing more. Because Izuku’s learned that weakness = vulnerable = targeted and hurt.

And now that he knows almost all his friends- no, his classmates were involved he knows he can’t break down anywhere near them. He can’t go over and let them know how broken he is or he thinks they’ll turn against him even more.

Someone brings up the 'logical’ aespect of the interrogation and their suspicions before he leaves and Izuku’s thoughts use that and forces it against him. 'It was only logical. Everyone was convinced you were going to hurt them, that you were evil. Of course they had to do it.’ He repeats it like a mantra in his head. 'It’s only logical, they did what they had to, and it’s almost over. You’re almost done, it was just the logical thing to do.’

And why is it this that he repeats this, instead of being angry or upset?

The victim-blaming.

His own intrusive thoughts were fuelled by the victim-blaming, and because it was what hurt the most, it was also what he was most accustomed to.

But when he finally gets back to the dorms, to the 'safety’ of his room, he knows he can’t break down. Not yet. After all, if they went through all that trouble because they thought he was the traitor, who’s to say they didn’t do more? His resurfaced paranoia/anxiety from the trauma makes him search his room for hidden cameras and microphones, desperate for at least one safe-space.

He finds nothing, thank god, but then he keeps pushing back his breakdown in search of exits, ways to avoid the most dangerous people or most likely to turn on him, ways to get by unseen and to avoid any situations that would be like Middle school. He stays up making notes and maps of the school and how to best protect himself because 'You’re already used to this. Shouldn’t have expected anything different. Stupid, idiotic, Deku. You put off finding the saferoutes because you thought it would be better to try playing nice. Look where that got you, now you have to stay up and make up the months of ignoring the inevitable.’

He doesn’t sleep that night, and when it becomes time for class he still hadn’t given himself time to break down. So he returns, but doesn’t pretend to be friends with any of his classmates anymore. He uses the ways he maps, brings out old tactics, just with the hope of making it through the day without being hurt or breaking down.

Lunch comes, but he doesn’t eat. He goes to the roof, finds an elevated area with no cameras and where people are unlikely to see him and sits down. It takes a moment, just a mere second of sitting there alone before he breaks.

He cries and let’s his regret and anger wash over him. All the feelings he had been pushing back finally breaking free and coming loose. He doesn’t eat, he never got the time, and right as he is starting to realize how badly hurt he really is, the bell rings signalling he needed to get to class. So he forces himself up, pushed all his emotions away, and tries to clean himself up in the bathroom.

He ends up in a dissociative state the rest of the way back to class, and when the others ask why he’s acting different or 'weird’, he doesn’t respond. He barely registers anything the rest of the day and when teachers try calling on him, hoping for some kind of reaction, they get nothing. He doesn’t process that he’s being talked to and just sits there dissociating in a desperate attempt of forcing himself not to break down again.

When classes end, the others try talking to him but eventually give up. He slowly realizes after everyone left that he was alone and he picks up his stuff and walks to the dorms on autopilot. He gets to his room and shut the door, and finally let’s himself finish the breakdown from on the roof. This time, though, he finally lets himself cry over everything. The entire past of abuse and neglect from his peers and adult figures in his life (minus his mom), the suicide-baiting, the victim-blaming, the bullying, accusations and mistrust, all of it. And he finally fully, truly breaks.

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#Ah yes more people who loves to hurt Izuku #Welcome #suspected traitor Izuku AU #submission

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