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chronicbeans · 4 months

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Romantic Husk x Maladaptive Daydreamer Reader

Brought to you by: I feel like you two would get along. Also I feel like I made the Reader much more depressed in this one so heads up lol.

TW: Maladaptive Daydreaming, Alcohol/Alcoholism, Mentions of Drugs, Depression, Derealization/Dissociation

• When you first stepped into the Hazbin Hotel, being dragged around by an excited Charlie and smiling Vaggie, he thought you'd be like all the rest. A bit more on the bold side, being able to make snarky comments, violent... Just, overall, like most other sinners he's seen. He was quickly proven wrong, however. You look over to him as you're dragged by the bar, but you don't look like you process him. He simply assumed you didn't get the time to process him, but once Charlie loops around back to him in order to introduce you two, you have that same look to you.

• "Hello... um, I'm (Y/N)." You wave a little to him as you speak, looking a bit awkward. Possibly from Charlie dragging you around from excitement, and making you meet everyone. He waves to you, nodding. He doesn't look very enthusiastic, or sound it, as he introduced himself. "The name's Husk. Now, are you going to get a drink while you're here? Otherwise, that's all you'll need to know, for now."

• Alright... so, first impressions were definitely something. They aren't his forte, at least. However, you succeeded in surprising him a little. Not with your words or gestures, but just by how you didn't seem to be paying full attention. He's great at reading people, as a gambler, and it's bled into his day to day life. He could easily tell. Now, could he tell why? No. His first thought is drugs, since Angel has a drug problem and so do a lot of people in Hell, but you didn't show any visible signs of being on something. So, he isn't going to assume anything. Perhaps you were just having a bad day, or were overwhelmed...

• The next time he sees you, though, is when you are having a group exercise with the rest of the hotel residents. Plus a few staff members, since there's not a lot of people here, yet. Lucky for him, he was chosen to join in. After all, who's going to be going to the bar when everyone is doing an activity? Once again, everybody is introducing themselves since there's a new person. That person being you.

• You sit there, clearly spaced out, as Sir Pentious, Angel Dust, and Niffty all do their little greeting... thing... that Charlie is making everyone do. Then, once it's your turn, you take a moment. Actually, you didn't notice it was your turn, until Husk gently elbows you, wanting to get it over with. You flinch, before giving a halfhearted greeting, embarrassed. You say your name, with your favorite thing being "being creative", and your last thing being that you don't like sharing it. It was odd to listen to, compared to everyone else's introductions. He just gave his, not thinking about it... much.

• Okay... maybe "not thinking about it much" isn't the right wording. He's thinking about it a lot. Mainly because he's worried about whatever the hell "being creative" means. In Hell, it could mean violence, drugs, and a lot of other horrific things alongside art, music, and writing. He wants to make sure Angel Dust is safe, too, if it is something involving drugs. He doesn't want him to get hooked on something new. So, he's going to keep a close watch whenever you two are together.

• You don't visit the bar often. Though, when you do, you usually have a few drinks and don't talk much. You kind of just stare at the table, the bottles on the wall behind him, or just into space while making different expressions. A lot of the time you kind of look empty, though. Husk sometimes crosses his arms and asks what you're thinking about, only for you to look up to him and shrug. "Hard to explain... Just a story I heard."

• You're clearly hiding something and he doesn't like that. He's not going to pry, though. While it could be something bad, it could also just be some personal stuff. Maybe you're just depressed or something...? Doesn't explain the odd expressions... maybe you're just hallucinating? Yeah. He'll just guess it's a mental health thing. Which, well, he's on the right track. Just the wrong answer to what is causing the specifics of what he's trying to figure out.

• Sometimes you talk about your stories when you get drunk, which isn't as often as a few other people in the Hazbin Hotel, but is usually a treat. He assumes these are those "stories you heard one", but he can already smell something fishy. You explain them in far too much detail than someone normally would. You can even explain miniscule things, like the psychology of certain characters, the way the world building works to the smallest ant's role, to even the biology of certain creatures. Nobody who simply "heard a story" would know this much. These are things the writer would know.

• "You made these, didn't you?" You immediately tense up at that, but slowly nod. Now, he's even more confused. Why would anybody lie about it? These stories are interesting. They actually kind of distract him from his problems, that's how much they hook others! Before he can ask, though, you shrug. "I kind of... don't like how attached I am to them. They're why I'm spaced out. I also don't want others to know about it. Don't tell anyone."

• Husk doesn't tell anyone. However, he kind of thinks you're overreacting when you talk about how much you daydream and how it's a problem. It's nothing against you. He doesn't think you're a lier, now. He's pretty sure you're being truthful, with just a little bit of exaggerating. See, he's from the 1970s, and whatever you're going through wasn't discovered until the 2000s. He just can't imagine how daydreaming could become a problem. Everybody daydreams. However, just in case it actually is a big issue, he won't voice it. The most he'll say is just that he hasn't heard of anything like what you are describing.

• He likes you. Now that you're being more open, he has genuinely started to enjoy your company. Your stories are nice to listen to, your expressions fun to watch, and even if you are having problems listening to him talk, he can at least understand why and not hold it against you. You're entertaining. He'll ask questions about your characters, and actually engage in your storytelling when you ask.

• However, it all changes once Charlie comes up to him one evening. She looks a bit worried as she asks Husk for help. "See... They've been in their room all day, and when I knocked and asked if they needed anything, they asked to get you." Get him? Well, alright.

• Once he gets to your room, he begins to realize just how bad of a problem it can get. You seem to have broken down into tears over something, and when he asks what, you just let out your every frustration. You've forgotten to eat today, you can't focus on anything due to daydreaming taking over, you feel a bit disconnected from reality... while before, you seemed to be able to talk about these things so easily, now that you're breaking down over it? It really puts it into perspective. Especially when you mention feeling disconnected from reality... He somehow never thought of that being an issue, but it makes sense to him. How could you feel connected to reality, when your mind is never focused on it?

• As much as he tries to understand what is going on inside your head, he knows he'll never understand it entirely. So, he tries to understand it in a way through his own experiences. With how much this unstoppable habit has been causing you distress, the closest thing he can compare is to is his alcoholism. He feels like he can't stop drinking, even if he knows it's bad for him... Husk is very much aware that it's not exactly the same, but he feels it's the closest he'll get to understanding your experiences.

• He keeps his promise of not saying a word about it to anyone. If somebody ever asks about what is going on with you, he'll pull what he calls "a Niffty", saying "You don't even want to know what's going on with them." He also becomes a bit more protective over you. He's seen Alastor staring at you, and he recognizes the look in his eyes. Alastor wants to try to manipulate you, like he does everyone else. Husk plans to prevent that as best he can, despite Alastor owning his soul.

• Husk might try to find ways to ground you. He would normally recommend going to a therapist, psychiatrist, or to get some medications for your mental health... but considering that you're both in Hell, the place filled with the worst people, that might actually be the most dangerous thing you could do. If you were on earth, sure, since those people can be trusted more often than not. Hell's mental health professionals are untrustworthy, though. So, he's going to try finding a grounding technique that works for you. Be it holding some ice cubes in your hand, taking deep breaths, or some random thing Charlie brings up one day he thinks will help.

• Now that he's dedicated to protecting you from Alastor, he might be a bit more open about how awful that deer demon can be. Well, as open as Alastor's leash allows him to be. It's his way of subtly warning you not to trust that smiling monster. Husk's gotten too attached to let not warn you of him.

• As you both spend more time around each other, he begins noticing that he's grown to love you as more than a friend. The little things you do cause him to blush, as much as he hates it. It's only when Angel Dust teases him about having a crush on you that he actually realizes that he's in love, though, and Husk immediately shuts him up. He's genuinely growing frightened that Alastor might hear it, and begin using you against him. That man has taken his soul, his power as an overlord, his freedom, and he knows that he'd be willing to take you away, too.

• Despite that fear, Husk is rather quick to tell you how he feels. He knows he'll have to tell you at some point, so he might as well get it over with. He also doesn't really expect you to like him back, in large part due to his attitude and the cat-like form he's taken in Hell. He doesn't like it, himself, so why wouldn't you see it as off-putting? However, he doesn't argue when you tell him you love him back. He is just a bit shocked, in a good way.

• Now that you're both together, your actual relationship doesn't change much from when you were just friends. The only real difference is the occasional kiss or snuggle sensation. You're actually a bit shocked by how much he likes to cuddle, even if he only wants to in private. He isn't really the type of guy that likes public displays of affection.

• All in all, life's pretty good with your protective boyfriend. He may not entirely understand what is going on in your head, but he's one of the most patient people at the hotel when it comes to hearing people out on their problems. He's probably one of the best if you're looking for a partner who'd rather give you grounding skills, rather than going along with your daydreams and using outlets like art and writing to cope.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel husk #hazbin husk #husk hazbin hotel #husk x reader #hazbin hotel x reader #maladaptive daydreaming

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mirai-e-jump · 9 months

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Hero Vision Vol.14 (2004/Spring) ft. Kamen Rider Blade Cast Interviews Ryoji Moromoto x Makoto Ito (Suit Actor) Segment (translation below)

Publication: May 20, 2004 (between episodes 17-18) Ryoji Moromoto (Hajime Aikawa) x Makoto Ito (Chalice Suit Actor)

"When did you two first meet?"

Ito: When? (laughs)

Moromoto: When we first met? I'm pretty sure it was before filming started. My first impression of Ito-san was that he was, "A kind big bro."

Ito: He made me think, "This year's also going to turn out cool" (laughs).

Moromoto: We talked alot about Chalice back then. You said, "Chalice has existed for 10,000 years, so I want to show you 10,000 years worth of my career." What were some of the other things you said again?

Ito:……not much, I really don't remember (laughs).

Moromoto: Ahaha! One thing we have in common, is that we have similar bikes, don't we? We've talked about how we want to go (motorcycle) touring together after the show ends. I ride a Yamaha SR400 and, ah...I'm sorry……(Note: The bikes used in Kamen Rider are provided by Honda)

Ito:…Sorry, but I'm also a WR250F (Yamaha) rider~, but before that, it's always been a Honda! I'd love to see Moromoto-kun's rumored SR. I've heard that they're loud and rather slow……

Moromoto: That's right! I actually modified it too much, and now it can only go about 80kph (50mph) (laughs). Right now, I'm too busy to work on it. I feel like my love for it is fading~!

"What were your first impressions of Chalice?"

Moromoto: I received a call from my agency, saying I passed the audition with, "You're Heart." "Eh?! You mean Momorenger?!," I was so surprised and alittle bit intimidated (laughs), but when I saw the design in person, it was cool and I liked it alot because it was something I had never seen before.

Ito: When I was first told about it, I jokingly thought, "Heart……(sinking in)…ah, alright then, I'll just act like a gay guy……" But, after seeing the design, I was relieved and thought about what kind of pose would suit this Rider. My first thought when I read his setup, was that it would be nice to have something wild and different from the other Riders. Compared to G3-X in "Kamen Rider Agito" and Knight in "Kamen Rider Ryuki," this is the wildest work I've ever done. Even with Kaixa in "Kamen Rider 555," I tried to keep martial arts like movements in mind, and to avoid any unnecessary movements. But with Chalice, there's just so many unnecessary movements…(laughs).

Moromoto: That's why I also tried to make the movements bigger in that fight scene (episode 9).

"Morimoto-san, "Hajime Aikawa is not a normal human being," what do you pay attention to when playing such a role?"

Moromoto: When my heart is closer to the human side, it's not so different, but when it's closer to Chalice's side, I try not to blink as much as possible, and when I talk to people, I try to give subtle pauses in my responses. It's almost like a foreigner hearing Japanese and interpreting it in their head before replying. In general, when I'm on Chalice's side, I don't think with my mind, but instead, try to act with my feelings

"Do you have any techniques for the dubbing process?"

Moromoto: I have a high pitched voice, so it can be difficult for me to make Chalice sound intimidating or violent. That's why I'm trying to lower the tone of my voice. I also did research by studying "monsters" such as the Hulk, Akuma from "Street Fighter II" and King Piccolo from "Dragon Ball Z." One time I even played the videos, and would try to voice the characters myself with the sound off, but there was still something wrong. What could it be…I don't know what Chalice's true form is yet, so my image may not be perfect. (Note: The actors have not been told where the story is going at this time.)

Ito: When it's my turn to "Henshin!," I'm trying to decide if it's better to change or to fight and further develop myself. Essentially, Chalice is supposed to be used to fighting, so I want to keep my methods in check. I'm so focused that I feel like I can see my opponent's movements, even when they've stopped. However, the tension is still high.

Moromoto: The way I say "Transformation" is different depending on if I'm fighting to protect Amane-chan or with my natural emotions. For Amane-chan, it's, "Henshin!" but naturally it's, "…Henshin" (lower tone).

"Did you face any challenges during filming?"

Ito: I'm not good when it comes to cold weather, so I almost cried during the snowy mountain shoot.

Moromoto: It was -15C (5F)! And when the sun went down, they brought out one of those giant fans! It kept spraying us with cold water! Man, I remember my face being scrunched up with anger (laughs).

Ito: When I did a test shot without the mask on, my hair ended up freezing. It wouldn't even melt when I put my head over the space heater, so I just had to keep it as is.

Moromoto: There was also the scene where Amane-chan's father gives Hajime the photo, with it being so cold I thought, "This guy, is he really going to die?!"

Ito: I'm bad with Winter, but I'm also bad with Summer too. When I wear a suit, my body temperature rises and my face turns bright red. My heart starts to race too and I think, "Ah, my life is getting shorter…"

Moromoto: It's good for Chalice though, isn't it? Blood rushing, a fast pulse, it's like an unleashing of the instincts.

Ito: But, when I get like that, I become quiet. In the Summer, Chalice becomes more like a domesticated cat (laughs).

Moromoto: Please keep doing your best~, I'm also prepared to risk my life for this role!

Ito: I also want to play the role of a Rider who will continue to remain in everyone's heart. Personally, it's frustrating to often hear people say, "Chalice looks like Gills (Agito)" (laughs), regardless, please continue to watch us in the future. We're going to give it our all!

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cheshirecatuniverse · 10 months

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Todoroki Falling for You

featuring: Daruma Ikka! Reader (She/Her)

notes: my works can be gorey, violent, and other mature themes!

For you and Todoroki to meet it would have to be purely by chance.

One of the first times Hyuga had decided to align with Sword was at the fight between Kohaku & the Mighty Warriors. You were buzzing with eagerness the whole ride there.

So much so that Ukyo and Sakyo kicked you to the back of the car. Sitting on the trunk of the car wasn't as bad as it sounds. You had a solid grip, so you wouldn't fall off.

Sakyo even lit you a hand sparkler for compensation. Yay! But honestly, you don't know how Hyuga falls asleep on the hood of the car.

You had a lot of energy for the fight. You pushed around to make sure you were at the front of the action. At one point, you literally dove down on a group of guys and smiled at the sound of broken bones. Everything went by too fast for you, the need of adrenaline driving you to fight with Sarah. It seemed like you were the only person around to keep up with her.

When the word spread that Kohaku lost you groaned. No! What the fuck? You had to sadly wave Sarah goodbye, you really thought you could win. Bring back some pride for Daruma Ikka.

Sulking dramatically, you found something on the ground. Eh, who brings glasses to a fight?

"Hyuga look," You waved the pair of black glasses around, "Nobody stepped on these."

"What does that have to do with me?" Hyuga dismissed it with an eye roll, "Get in the car."

Laying on the trunk of one of Hyuga's cars, you wiped the lenses with your red sleeve. You didn't wear them but looked through them for a couple of seconds before rubbing your eyes. Man, someone had to be blind to use these.

"I think you have something that belongs to me."

You sat up, processing the Oya High uniform faster than the guy's actually face. You grinned, fiddling with them before throwing them into his hands.

You watched how quickly he glared at you, "So you're the weirdo who brought glasses. Have you ever thought about contacts?"

He inspected his glasses carefully. Then putting them on when he realized they were okay, "Not going to take advice from a Daruma girl."

"This Daruma girl saved you a lotta money," You remarked, hopping off the car, "Are you challenging me? Do you wanna fight? Cause I still wanna fight-"

Hyuga shut that shit down with a yell. You were back to sulking, but not before you told Todoroki, "Bye, school boy."

The next times you'd meet it would be the times Sword would get together. Which typically would be in a urgent or bad situation so you wouldn't get much time to talk to Todoroki.

You would, however, tease him as many chances you got. Even if it was just flicking his forehead as you were walking with your group or jump scaring him mid-fight.

Then there was another time at a Sword fight that he had forgotten his glasses. But the Oya High trucks had left already.

So when there was another time that you were bored at the Daruma Temple (which was the next day) you walked over to Oya Territory.

You snuck in the High School, even with your bright red jacket.

When you found Todoroki, you popped out of nowhere.

You made Tsuji and Shibaman scream.

Todoroki could tell before you pulled your hood down it was you.

"I'm telling you," You huff putting his glasses down on a desk, "Invest in contacts."

He actually smiled at you with his hands in his pockets, "I'm fine with these."

Todoroki would never tell you he left his glasses behind on purpose.

Because you are younger compared to a lot of the guys from Daruma you tend to get bored a lot.

Since meeting Todoroki, you go to the Oya district a lot. You get to do a lot of things you don't normally do, like CAT CAFES.

As soon as you saw the cats from the window, you gasped. The look on your face had Todoroki opening the door, waiting for you to go in first. You look at him with a "Really?" and he just nodded.

Before you know it you're going out with Todoroki almost daily.

He likes having you around, but it would take him a considerable amount of time to truly get close to you.

You text Todoroki a lot. Starting with a 🥹 emoji.

It gets to the point Hyuga asks if you're dating him, you scratch your head and say no of course.

But you do notice how you like to grab onto his arms more than anyone else. When he laughs at a joke, you squeeze his bicep in happiness.

You notice how often your stomach seems to flutter whenever you're around him. Still, you don't connect the dots.

Todoroki walks on the roadside of the sidewalk when you're together. He's slick with it to, you don't even notice.

If you're ever surrounded, guys trying to take you down, on instinct, you shield Todoroki. Which his heart gets all mushy for, until you punch someone's teeth out, then he's reminded to fight.

Todoroki knows he treats you differently from the rest of his friends, but it takes a long time to realize. He likes you.

At the realization, there are some days where he skips on hanging out with you. But then he misses you and immediately starts talking to you again.

You know how girls like to give guys their scrunchies? You gave Todoroki one of your red and white bandannas. He has it neatly folded in his pocket forever and ever.

Any event, occasion, achievement, you bring the fireworks. Murayama leaving Oya? You made sure you got at least a dozen huge fireworks. Todoroki won a fight? 20 huge fireworks, and 10 small ones tonight and some poppers to top it off. Hand Sparklers, just for when you want to feel happy.

When you go shopping anywhere you're always looking for science books or journals. Anything that looks like a world wonder or cool for Todoroki because you knew he'd like that sort of thing. You really like how happy he gets each one you get him.

Sometimes, you help Hyuga take his cars over to a Daruma-friendly shop and work on them yourself. Once, you told Todoroki, Tsuji, and Shibaman to come over so that you all can have lunch after.

What Todoroki wasn't prepared for was how hot you looked working on a car. Oil stained white tank top with some old grey sweats and your signature silver chain around your neck to top it off.

You've called Todoroki multiple times, he doesn't answer immediately to your surprise.

"Todoroki?"

Tsuji has to elbow him in the ribs to bring him back to life.

"-Hrgnh, um yes?"

Okay, so you don't really have any friends outside of Daruma and Oya, but since meeting Todoroki and the rest, you actually feel more confident. When you mentioned trying to talk to people from your own school, Todoroki is really supportive. Encouraging to not let any anxiety or insecurity to get the best of you.

One time, you two were out at a cafe. You insisted on buying and getting the drinks this time. Which, Todoroki fought for a good minute until you said this was for passing the exam he was working so hard to study for.

While you were waiting for the drinks you ordered, a girl went over to flirt with Todoroki. You didn't even notice until you had both drinks in your hands and you turned around.

The girl could not stop giggling, and you couldn't help but notice how disinterested he was the whole conversation. Todoroki looked almost uncomfortable.

You felt hot, like a weird burning fever in your chest. Not staying still any longer, you walked over, right behind her. Todoroki's eyes immediately brightened up at the sight of you. The poor girl thought her endeavors were working and tried reaching for his hand-

"Wow! I totally don't remember inviting you with us," You smiled stiffly and eyes on fire.

She turned around, silently scoffing as she got up. You immediately sat down, sliding Todoroki his coffee. Her eyes focused on your bright red Daruma Ikka jacket, silver chain, and the bandanna hanging out of your pocket.

"Thug," She spat out and flipped her hair before walking away.

Oh. That may have hurt a little more than it should have.

"Then I guess I'm a thug too," Todoroki tried to cheer you up.

You forced out a laugh, hating the way your eyes stung. Todoroki wasn't having it, he grabbed the bottom of your chair and dragged you closer to him. He moved his arm around your shoulders. That strange flutter in your stomach came back.

#high & low #high&low #high&low the worst x #high&low x reader #high and low #oya high #high&low imagine #high&low todoroki #todoroki yosuke #todoroki yosuke x reader #daruma ikka

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disciple-of-owen · 11 months

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The Southern Raiders: Some Thoughts

Ah, The Southern Raiders: that pivotal episode in which Zuko and Katara bury the hatchet, allowing our favorite Fire Prince to finally become a full-fledged Gaangster. Fans have expressed wildly different takes regarding this episode over the years, so I thought I’d toss in my two cents.

An important disclaimer before beginning: I am NOT anti-Zuko, and it is not my intention for this to be an anti-Zuko post. Having said that, I think it’s important to accept that Zuko’s redemption, magnificent as it is, does not expunge his character of defects. He remains a flawed person to the end of series, and I think much of his behavior in this particular episode is deserving of criticism.

Anyway, let’s start with the moment when Zuko announces to the Gaang that he and Katara are planning to track down her mother’s killer. Anything in quotes is from the show’s transcript, which belongs to Bryke, Nickelodeon, Paramount, and whoever the hell else has their hooks in Avatar at this point.

Aang: “Um… and what exactly do you think this is going to accomplish?”

An important thing to note here: Aang is not starting this conversation with an ‘I’ statement (I think, I feel, etc.). Instead, he is keeping the focus on Katara by asking her to elaborate on her thought process.

Katara: “Ugh. I knew you wouldn’t understand.”

A bit harsh, but Katara is experiencing a huge amount of emotional pain with the reopening of this wound. She is in no mood to be questioned (which is not to say that she shouldn’t be questioned) and that is valid.

Aang: “Wait, stop! I do understand. You’re feeling unbelievable pain and rage. How do you think I felt about the sandbenders when they stole Appa? How do you think I felt about the Fire Nation when I found out what happened to my people?”

Of all the moments that anti-Aang people disingenuously twist out of context, this is one of the most common. These individuals claim that Aang is belittling and dismissing Katara’s feelings by comparing the loss of her mother to the loss of Appa. This is a braindead take for three reasons:

Aang’s rage at the sandbenders wasn’t just about ‘losing Appa’. It was about being the sole survivor of a horrific genocide and losing the last piece he had of his people.

He puts Katara’s pain on the same level as the pain he feels regarding said genocide. If that isn’t taking her feelings seriously, I don’t know what the fuck is.

The whole reason he is making this comparison is not to determine whose trauma is greater, but to establish that he and Katara have common emotional ground upon which they can build a dialogue.

Zuko: “She needs this, Aang. This is about closure and justice.”

Frankly, I think it’s a bit audacious of Zuko to claim he knows what Katara needs when he’s been on normal speaking terms with her for a total of, what, 30 minutes? Still, I believe his heart is in the right place here.

Aang: “I don’t think so. I think it’s about getting revenge.”

And now, Aang voices his concern. Given how well Aang knows Katara, coupled with Zuko’s use of the word ‘justice’ regarding her mother’s killer, it is not at all unreasonable for him to assume that violent revenge might be on the cards. Katara immediately validates this assumption.

Katara: “Fine, maybe it is! Maybe that’s what I need! Maybe that’s what he deserves!”

I actually love this line; it’s not often that heroes in YA fantasies get to shed all pretense of morality and openly admit that base revenge is what they’re after. It makes Katara intensely believable in this episode.

Aang: “Katara, you sound like Jet.”

Aang reminds us of a vital lesson here: while it’s important to support your friends, it’s equally important to challenge them when you see them going down a potentially self-destructive path. That is what separates being a ride-or-die from being an enabler.

Katara: “It’s not the same! Jet attacked the innocent. This man, he’s a monster.”

Every word here is true, but the Gaang didn’t encounter Jet until he was many years into his unique brand of ‘freedom fighting’. Who’s to say he didn’t start out with Katara’s reasoning? Sokka seems to be thinking along these lines…

Sokka: “Katara, she was my mother too, but I think Aang might be right.”

Katara: “Then you didn’t love her the way I did!”

I have mixed feelings about this line. On the one hand, Katara is a child who has undergone immense trauma, and she has every right to express that. On the other, having trauma does not give you license to be cruel to others. There aren’t any easy answers here, which, again, is what makes Katara’s character especially fascinating in this episode.

Sokka: “Katara!”

Aang: “The monks used to say that revenge is like a two-headed rat viper. While you watch your enemy go down, you’re being poisoned yourself.”

Some might say this line is a bit preachy. Myself, I think Aang is speaking the way the monks taught him to in moments of conflict. Metaphors can be powerful tools for conveying meaning when regular words aren’t cutting through.

Zuko: “That’s cute, but this isn’t Air Temple pre-school. It’s the real world.”

And here we have a deeply problematic comment from Zuko.

Now before the torches and pitchforks come out, let me clarify: I do not think Zuko is an active bigot. At all. It is indisputable, however, that he was brought up in a racist, imperialist society. Let’s take a closer look at what he says here:

“That’s cute, but this isn’t Air Temple pre-school.” What we have here is an example of infantilization; Zuko is essentially calling one of the pillars of Air Nomad culture childish nonsense.

“It’s the real world.” Implying that the Air Nomads’ worldview is simple-minded and incompatible with the world as it is.

Now let’s compare Zuko’s words to what Ozai says to Aang in their final struggle.

Ozai: “You are weak! Just like the rest of your people! They did not deserve to exist in this world!”

“That’s cute,”

“You are weak!”

“It’s the real world.”

“They did not deserve to exist in this world!”

I repeat, I don’t think Zuko is being consciously racist here, and I am certainly not comparing him as a person to his father. What I AM saying is that both Zuko and Ozai were raised on the same diet of Fire Nation propaganda, and that this propaganda still colours Zuko’s worldview to some extent.

Katara: “Now that I know he’s out there… now that I know we can find him, I feel like I have no choice.”

Katara is effectively and honestly communicating her feelings here.

Aang: “Katara, you do have a choice: forgiveness.”

And Aang is seriously engaging with those feelings. Note: he isn’t saying that Katara has to forgive (he is perfectly content with her decision not to forgive Yon Rha at the episode’s conclusion); he is simply pointing out that she does, in fact, have a choice.

Zuko: “That’s the same as doing nothing!”

Not gonna lie, not a fan of Zuko in this moment. And if we ever needed proof that Aang is the more emotionally mature of the two, it comes with the next line.

Aang: “No, it isn’t. It’s easy to do nothing… but it’s hard to forgive.”

Some excellent wisdom, spoken from a place of experience.

Katara: “It’s not just hard. It’s impossible.”

Again, Katara expressing her truth. Again, totally valid.

I’m gonna skip ahead just a bit to when Aang and Sokka find Zuko and Katara preparing to steal Appa, as this is an important moment.

Katara: “Don’t try to stop us.”

Aang: “I wasn’t planning to. This is a journey you need to take. You need to face this man. But when you do, please don’t choose revenge. Let your anger out, and then let it go. Forgive him.”

Aang has expressed his concerns, but he has also listened to Katara and recognizes that this is something she needs to do. He provides the use of Appa and offers some final words of wisdom, which have a huge impact on Katara later in the episode.

Zuko: “Okay, we’ll be sure to do that, guru goody-goody.”

Wow. Just… wow.

Katara: “Thank you for understanding.”

We all know how the story goes from here: Katara and Zuko go on their quest, Katara continues to spiral into darkness, and when the big moment finally comes, she chooses not to lower herself to Yon Rha’s level.

So, to conclude:

Thoughts on Katara: People should give Katara a break. Sure, she’s kind of a jerk in this episode, but she is also 14(15?) and dealing with a lot. We can be critical of some of the specific language she uses, but we shouldn’t be critical of her expressing her trauma.

Another point worth noting: while Aang’s advice does play a role in Katara’s ultimate decision not to murder Yon Rha (as per Bryke’s own words), she isn’t just blindly following his recommendations. She spares her mother’s killer, but she does it on her own terms. Which is excellent.

Thoughts on Zuko: As mentioned previously, I do think Zuko’s desire to help Katara in this episode is genuine. Having said that, I also think his judgement is being clouded both by his projected feelings towards Ozai (his own Yon Rha) and a desire to get what he wants (in this case, Katara’s approval). If Katara’s well-being were truly his ultimate motivator, I don’t believe he would have been so dismissive of Aang’s concerns.

Though, to his credit, Zuko does acknowledge in the end that Aang had been right all along.

Thoughts on Aang: In the DVD commentary for this episode, the creators talk about how, in many ways, The Southern Raiders is actually a story about Aang and Katara; that Aang’s words are present with Katara throughout the episode as her shoulder angel, not judging her or telling her what to do, but helping her find her way through the darkness. This is a beautiful (yet realistically imperfect) moment in their relationship, and I am here for it.

#avatar the last airbender #katara #zuko #aang #kataang

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film-bro-hotch · 2 years

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Queen of Nothing (Hotch x Reader) - Chapter Two

A/N: Hi everyone! Thanks so much for the support on the last chapter. Loved logging in every day to see some new notes. To be absolutely honest, I wrote a lot of this chapter while distracting myself from my undergraduate thesis. So I hope you enjoy this issue of my procrastination project!

Chapter Warnings: allusions to domestic violence, murder

WC: 1.9k

Chapter Two - I Know the Bravest Thing I Ever Did Was Run

“Sometimes, the only way to get justice is to take it for yourself.” ― Leigh Bardugo

You blinked a few times, trying to process if the loss of sleep was making you see things. There was no way this could be real. Out of all the possibilities, out of all the stores, out of all the people, Aaron Hotchner could not be in front of you.

What made this scene feel just a little more real was noticing the changes in him. The crow’s feet by his eyes were a little more pronounced, as were the creases on his forehead and his laughter lines. You were sure the last two were more from scowling than laughing, though. His under eyes were darker than usual. He just looked…tired. What had 5 years done to him?

You finally managed to find your voice through the violent wave of shock and nostalgia as you managed out an, “Aaron?”

Time away had made reading him a little harder. You couldn’t quite tell if his gaze gave excitement or apprehension. “It’s been, what, five years now? You - ah - you look good.”

Before you would have been so sure, but you couldn’t tell if he had truly counted the days since he had last seen you. What you were sure of, though, was that he was undoubtedly profiling you. And so were you. One of the first things you noticed besides the changes in his face was the absence of a wedding ring. So he and Hailey finally called it off? They had been on the outs when you and Aaron started your…honestly, you didn’t know what to call it. He stayed at your place so much, he made you dinner and gave you morning kisses on your cheek after he had slept in your bed. You never actually fucked, not even a real kiss. You wanted to call him your boyfriend because that is what nearly everything pointed to, but because of the tension with Hailey, you never brought it up.

“Thanks,” you said, one end of your lip curling up in a sort of half smile. “You too.”

The two of you sat in silence for a moment, each wondering what to even say next. You couldn’t possibly treat it like you never left, like nothing ever happened. Aaron was the first one to speak up.

“So what brings you back here? I figured you didn’t stay in Virginia after you left.”

Left was accurate but felt hollow compared to what really happened. But it also reminded you that you needed to come up with a story. Fast.

“Yeah, I didn’t. I sort of had my crisis and found myself back home with my parents. I helped my dad with the ranch for a good four years I think. It was nice being back with family and all, but I was a little restless. I think part of me missed all the travel from the BAU. So I’ve kind of been trekking across the country for the past year or so,” you started. Good, giving yourself a stable place in your story, and it wasn’t exactly a lie. During your tour of America, you went back to the ranch in the middle of nowhere Texas a few times. Your parents never understood your job, so they didn’t question it much. “Now I’m trying to make my way up to Maine, maybe go into Canada, maybe join some fishing boat, who knows,” you joked with a shrug, and Aaron gave you a half-hearted smile. Pretty good for him.

“It sounds like you have had more adventures than we have.”

“Oh, I highly doubt that. Come on, tell me how the team is. What have I missed?” You know it’s dangerous, but you want to know how they are doing.

“Some things haven’t changed. Morgan and Garcia still flirt every day. Reid looks like he should be in a boy band,” he gave pause after seeing the shock on your face. “I don’t think that was what he was going for, but it doesn’t look half bad. We have a couple of new agents… Agent David Rossi and Agent Emily Prentiss. Gideon and Elle don’t work for the BAU anymore.”

So things really had changed. Part of you felt upset for not being there, for being just another person that left the BAU. He probably noticed the way your face fell a bit, but you were quick to resume your expression. “So a diplomat’s daughter and one of the best agents of all time? Seems like you are running quite the team.”

Aaron wasn’t one to boast like some prideful fool, but he wasn’t meekly humble either, so it was a comfort that his reply was somewhat familiar. “Yeah, they are doing well.” There was a pause near the end, one where you almost wish he filled it with a but it’s not the same without you or an I’ve missed you, maybe even a would you come back? You weren’t getting any of those. You knew Hotch well enough to know he wouldn’t say something like that, and you knew yourself enough to know you would never accept. There was a reason you left in the first place.

There was another long moment of silence, and you were finally the one to break it. You needed to get out of there before you did something reckless. “It was really great seeing you again, Aaron. I should let you get back to shopping. It’s getting late.” You struggled to read his expression at that moment, but you decided you might have seen a bit of disappointment.

“Yeah. It was good seeing you too.”

Was that all? You felt like there should have been more, but you tried not to let yourself think about it too much. You couldn’t, or else you would do something stupid. Something that would get you caught. You offered him a small smile before moving your cart away from his, starting to finally move in the direction you had been before you ran into him. You felt your shoulders deflate a bit, almost in relief that nothing more happened. Or maybe it was dejection. After five years, was that really all their reunion would be? A simple conversation in a grocery store that they would both forget in a week? You cursed yourself for this foolish thinking, for wanting something more. That time was long gone. You started to pick up speed, hoping to get out of the grocery store before running into him again.

“Hey, Y/N.”

Well shit. Your instinct was to leave everything there and run. The fear that ran through you was that somehow he had found that, but your calmer part knew there was no logical way. You took in one deep breath before turning around to face him. Aaron had left his cart and was jogging over to you. Damn, you missed seeing that.

He handed you a card, one he presumably thought about for a few seconds and then pulled it out before running back to you. “If you stay in Fairfax a little longer, you should give me a call. We can have dinner and catch up a little more in depth.”

Your calloused hands touched his as you took the card, and a wave of longing ran through you. Having him so far away made it harder for you to miss him, but now he was right here, and he wanted to see you too. “I-uh actually went no contact when I started this little road trip. No phone,” you say. It was truthful, but also an excuse. It was dangerous to get mixed back up with him.

Hotch didn’t wait a second as he pulled out his wallet, fishing out a $50 bill and setting it in your hand, wrapping your fingers around it. “Get yourself a burner phone and then call me. You can throw it out once you leave Fairfax. You know, to keep up the no contact. But maybe keep my card if you get bored on that fishing boat up in Maine.”

Was that a joke? Did Aaron Hotchner just make a joke? You found yourself laughing, and he was too. “Aaron, I-”

“I know what you are going to say, and I have already thought it through. You are going to want to pay me back, and instead of doing this little dance about who pays for what, we are just going to make it even and you pay for ingredients for dinner. Yes, we are cooking at my place. Why are you giving me that look?”

Everything he said was with such a deadpan seriousness that you were almost shocked by how much he seemed to know you. You hadn’t even noticed your expression change. Slowly, you put the business card and the money in your pocket, admitting defeat. “Okay,” you said. “I’ll call you.”

“Good night, Y/N.”

You turned your back to him and couldn’t wipe the smile from your face as you started to walk away. You hadn’t heard Hotch move. He was still standing in the middle of the store, watching you leave for the first time in a long while.

---

You debated even getting the phone. It would be so easy to simply leave him with the ghost of you, do your job and get the hell out of Dodge. But you were weak, and you missed those gray eyes of his like some sad dog. So you bought the cheapest burner phone you could find and spent the remaining $10 on a fast food dinner. That night you didn’t even bother to plan your next day before your head hit the pillow and you fell asleep.

You spent the majority of the next morning looking for possible cases to follow. You looked mainly at domestic and child abuse cases, ones that were dismissed by the court for any number of reasons. From there you did your own research, tailed the people, men most of the time, that you were hunting to see if these accusations were truly unfounded. Sometimes you came to your answer pretty quickly, other times it took a few days longer, but rarely were you wrong. You were bringing more people to justice than you ever had while working for the BAU.

This research led you to a man in his early 40s, Christian Wright. Two kids who weren't in his custody. Three years ago he was in a nasty divorce with his wife, Catherine. Seemed like Wright came from a pretty wealthy family, and didn’t have his wife sign a prenup. He was coming back for his money and his reputation given that she had claimed neglect and abuse in the divorce papers. She disappeared a few months after the divorce was finalized. Most figured it was Christian, but no body, no crime. So he got off the hook. You knew his wife was most likely dead, but you were going to bring her killer to justice.

You had gotten in your car to start your first stakeout when you noticed Hotch’s business card you had left on your dashboard. You stared at it for a long moment, part of you knowing you shouldn’t call. You had work to do, work that couldn’t be disturbed. But then you remembered how he held you in the mornings, how on the weekends when he was there he would put that stupid record on and make breakfast while whistling along to Ob-La-Di, Ob-La-Da. You bought The Beatles’ white album just for him. And an echo of you wanted that back.

Against your better judgment, you pulled out the burner phone and typed in the number.

“Hotch? Hey, it’s Y/N. You free tonight?”

Chapter One Chapter Three

#ssa hotchner #hotch x reader #hotch x y/n #fem!reader #criminal minds #unsub!reader #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x fem!reader #aaron hotchner fanfiction #aaron hotchner fic #criminal minds fanfiction #Aaron Hotchner x reader #Aaron Hotchner x you #hotch x you #hotch x fem!reader #Aaron Hotchner fanfic #Aaron Hotchner x unsub!reader #criminal minds fanfic #Queen of Nothing

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gimme-a-thrust · 2 years

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Ozzie, RoboFizzes, and Creating Life

When Ozzie was cast down from Heaven with his fellow Sins, a lot of it had to do with resentment towards humans. He continued to ache, hate, and deliberate before eventually endeavoring to create life himself. If anyone could provide endless love to their creations, it would be him, Lust aside.

While he was able to create life in the form of his Breeders, the Incubi and Succubi he was able to birth on his own, it didn’t feel quite like he created life.

For a long time, he tried to create anything and everything that he could, but he wasn’t quite capable of making life to his own nearly impossible standards.

He wanted to make something comparable to humans, and failed for many years before eventually coming up on the idea of sexbots. Living sex toys seemed like something more up his alley than just making people, so he buried himself in it as yet another business that he was going to see to its end.

The bots themselves have actual free will, for the most part, though they are constrained by their design much like humans are. They are both sentient and sapient, capable of having their own personalities, thoughts, and feelings.

The bots all come with adjustable "Horniness Settings," which can go from being able to keep up with Ozzie (his are the only ones outfitted well enough to maintain that), to having almost no sex drive at all. Ozzie struggles not to make them horny, but he's capable of it and would be able to make them that way.

His, however, become very distressed if their settings are configured "inappropriately," which is anything less than "YES ALWAYS."

Ozzie is insanely protective of his creations, and will personally repossess them if he finds out they are being mistreated. He especially dislikes people making unapproved augmentations or jailbreaking his robots. They are all very important to him and he can’t stand the idea that they are being abused.

Redd, who now belongs to Lucifer and Lilith, was a rescue bot that he had to save from Leviathan. Athan made the blacklist and got beat up for it. Ozzie isn’t usually violent but he was too angry to hold back.

Ziggy was the first of his prototypes not to have a fatal error that he couldn’t fix, and this made him the favorite. Being distraught over seeing so many Fizzarollis dying on him, he takes special care of Ziggy. Unfortunately, his processors drain his battery so fast that he needs charged more often. He is the RoboFizz that sparks the most. To add extra precautions to keep him alive, Ziggy was made a little heftier and has a thicker body than Fizzarolli and the other Robos.

Fifi was the next to survive, though his issue was with his processes for information. He is an absolute ditz and just does or says what’s on his mind. Bread is soft, warm, safe, and comfortable for him, so he will offer it to anyone that is sad or looks like they need it. He is not outfitted to eat, but this doesn’t stop him from trying. With Ziggy’s help, he bakes his own bread sometimes, and he will cuddle the loaves when they are still warm (but have sat for a while).

Lilypad was the third, most functional of the prototypes, and the last one to be made. He can be very prideful and devious, and is definitely the schemer in the group. The sacred brain cell of Ozzie’s Harembots is held by Lily, who usually uses it for evil. He and Ribbit are in an open relationship, and welcome Mammon in as often as he will join them. They also love the Five Fizz Pile Ups with Ozzie and Fizzarolli.

Ribbit was the first officially finished RoboFizz off the line, and he was made for Ozzie. Having the first one was something that he wanted very badly, and nobody could really tell him ‘no.’ Ribbit adores frogs/toads and has downloaded many frog sounds from the Human World that he uses when he is feeling things. Ozzie eventually starts bringing him pet frogs/toads from the human world, and they end up staying in Fizzarolli’s room in the basement with his rat colony.

#Helluva Boss Headcanons #Helluva Boss Ozzie #Helluva Boss Asmodeus #Asmodeus Headcanns #Helluva Boss Asmodeus Headcanons #Helluva Boss Ozzie Headcanons #Ozzie Headcanons #I Can't Tell You So I'll Scream It Through Your Stereo Speakers (Ziggy)#I Just Want To Say That Being Chosen As This Month's Miss August Is Like A Compliment I'll Remember For As Long As I Can (Fifi)#All The Flowers They Have Very Extra Special Powers (Lilypad)#I Knew A Girl She Was A Frog Princess (Ribbit)

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goddessofroyalty · 2 years

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Question - and a little help. I'm writing smth involving Silco (as a majority in the thing) but I'm not exactly sure how to write him. When you write anything with him, what's the vibe? Or the process.

I haven't written him before and your rendition of him is astounding. Any help?

I think the biggest thing with Silco is the balance of how he wants to be perceived (threatening, in control, and collected) compared to how he actually is underneath it (very all-consumed in his emotions whether it's his passion about Zaun, his love of Jinx, or even just when his temper does flare up or the exhaustion of his position overwhelms him). So the thing I'm always most aware of when writing him is who else is in the room with him and how willing he is to his facade drop (and of course what factors may be forcing him to let the facade drop more than he would be willing). Also the conscious mental thought that goes into maintaining a facade like that (if you're a person who Masks in daily life lean on that but in a Masking by Controlled Statement - he's standing out of the crowd because of the things he's chosen to make him stand out not what other people choose for him).

He's also very dramatic and rather dismissive of other people (unless they are Jinx). So he tends to think about other peoples 'weaknesses' or frame things in ways of it being a fault in that person if they don't agree with him completely or do things the way he would. Like the average person would think about say Vander not beating someone to death in terms of keeping his temper in check or wanting to be the better man Silco thinks about it in terms of not being willing to do what is necessary and giving in to the easy laziness of pacifism.

Also he loves him a good metaphor or symbolism. But not to the point where he starts sounding flowery. He tends to go for more violent ones and tied to life experiences he has had ("a weak man drowned that day"; the whole baptism thing with Powder). He also keeps them up his sleeve until they have the biggest punch to them (he's not always telling the other Chembarons how he grew up in the mines or the heavier gasses in Zaun up until he feels he needs to remind them and then lets off a gas canister of the stuff in a room and monologues through it as they choke around him) but they do slip into his general way of speaking as well (if he can fit a drowning metaphor into a sentence it will be there). He knows how to demand attention but he tends to do it by a strong entrance or opening not in a 'naturally charismatic' way like Jayce is (which isn't to say Silco isn't charismatic but its a lot more dramatic and preformative).

Oh and also the world loves to make a hypocrite out of him. If he says he would never do something or that someone else is wrongweak for making a certain decision he has to later be put into the position where he does the thing or needs to/wants to make the same decision. But that does come a bit back to my first point - he wants to present as this purely objective person who only cares about the independence and betterment of Zaun but deep down he is a very human and emotion-driven man.

Hopefully that helps.

#Arcane #Silco Arcane #Ramblings of the Goddess #Q and A with the Goddess #Anon question #while I'm not like Silco in basically every other way #I am like him in terms of Masking through Performative Statement #and will literally contemplate the clothes I will wear #for Important Things for ages #and what exact statement I want to make with them #(and also am a massive theatrical person)#so I draw a lot on those feelings when I write him #and then just up the judgementalness right up #and add a bit more metaphor

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manie-sans-delire-x · 1 year

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I think you're decontextualizing too much and talking from a privileged point of view. I'm not arguing with the objectivity of what your point is, but it's a very bland flat hill to die on, in my opinion. People can totally agree to disagree, but the whole "good luck living this way" or "it's never gonna happen" is nothing but a shrugging off problems just because they don't belong to you.

Of course trans folks have deeper issues, we've been fighting in a society that, by default, does not accept us and we're forced to explain our very existence on a daily (or whoever cares to, to be honest I dropped that one ball there). So that's why it's important to make people who are coming from said privileged spots (mind, I'm not using the word "privileged" to hop on a high horse and offend anyone) understand how some things are very easy adjustments to make to accommodate minorities. And you don't really need to know/profoundly understand /why/ it's important for them, you can simply trust it is if they say so.

It's like saying "why would I use City money to build a stupid ramp when wheelchair users can struggle a little and learn to climb a 3 inches step" or "why would I stop staring at that person's ass if it's out and it's natural for me to look at it" because you want to be better and it's not that deep.

Yet again, agree to disagree if adding "assigned at birth" is such an inconvenience. No one is word obsessed, but personally speaking I'll bend the usage of my language as much as I can to make sure everyone around me is comfortable and feels safe, I don't care and need to know why.

How am I decontextualizing or talking from a privileged point of view? I mean I suppose I am in that I am not trans? I'll give you that.

Why is my point of view a bland hill to die on but insisting on changing female/male to afab/amab isnt?

No I just truly believe and came to the realistic conclusion it will never happen, not in any of our lifetimes at least. Do you really expect that this is going to become the new normal, in every country and culture? Seriously?

Yeah damn straight Im shrugging it off, I cant help people who are determined to be unhappy over word choice. Its not my problem, as you said. Everyone elses life will go on as normal, only they will be stuck on this and being unhappy, only hurting themselves.

Changing a language is not "very easy adjustment", not at all. I mean clearly, or else all this fighting wouldnt be happening right? And ok, say English changes. What, now every other language in the world has to change? Oh boy, thats going to lead to a lot of confusion and fighting. Sounds kinda problematic too, to insist other cultures and countries have to change their languages to match the more enlightened English. Colonist vibes.

Lets have realistically attainable goals. Lets focus on what really matters- like violent hate crimes against transpeople. People who are sooo passionate about political correctness and word choice should maybe, idk, do something real to help. Volunteer or work to help transpeople. But see they dont actually care about transpeople, they just get off on the self righteousness and false sense of moral superiority.

Its not about understanding why its important to them, I understand that it is. But unfortunately, reality doesnt give a shit about peoples emotions or whats important to them. (and clearly its not ok to disagree, because then you get labeled as a terf or whatever else new acronym...)

If you want to compare it to that, its more like if people in wheelchairs insisted that all stairs should be banned- ramps only- and you cant call them disabled anymore, everyone else is un-disabled. Society will never build itself around to a minority population, and shouldnt because it makes no sense.

Its not about "doing better" or peoples feelings. This is the main difference in thought process I think- some people view it as a moral social issue, some people view it as a issue of reality and logic.

What is a female? What is a male? A woman? A man? Whats the differences between them? Whats the difference between sex and gender? Are trans people actually transsexual or transgender? Is it even possible to be transsexual since you will never have the desired sex's gametes? Can someone be a female man or a male woman? At some point we need some god damn definitions. We cant just make words mean whatever we want them to.

Why not just have females, males, and transfemales and transmales?? Men, women, transmen, transwomen. That makes way more sense. Why would the majority and a whole ass language change to fit the minority? And even with the use of "cis", "trans" is still in use so attaching "cis" is pretty redundant either way!

#asks

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mellow-worlds · 7 months

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I wonder if he'll ever like me. I still think that it's a selfish thing to wish for. There's little to no use for him. I don't efven know how to express myself. IDKKKKK. I just think that me liking him is so selfish as well, I want to spend time with him and since I don't know whether he wants to spend time with me, I could very well just be bothering him. And like I've said so many times before, he probably doesn't want to spend time with me. Again, I guess I'll just have to wait. I would still like to explore my weird relationship with Snoopy. I think I also thought that he was too good for me, but obviously, that's not true. Not that I'm better or anytihng, but he wasn't good for me. At all. I was so scared of him, he was so violent, I hated his smoking and his tendency to get angry and how pushy he was, I was not comfortable with him at all. He tried to respect me but ultimately, he was a mysoginist and he wasn't too able to put himself in someone else's shoes.Somehow, P makes me think about Snoopy sometimes. But P is actually respectful and there isn't any bad thing about him I can think of except for his smoking. He is not scary, while still being masculine. I guess I'm afraid that, shoudl P and I get closer, it could be similar to how it was with Snoopy. But, I shouldn't compare them too much, right? It's not healthy to hold on to the past and what I'm trying to achieve with this is to be able to process what happened with Snoopy and why I don't have to linger in the past. I should just be happy about the time I can spend with P. I really don't think it's healthy to compare P with Snoopy in any way. I should see him as an own human being and not just as a second Snoopy or whatever (this sounds harsh). But I mean, the experience I've had with this relationship kind of stuff has been really bad, and I don't want it to repeat itself? Hmmm.... Maybe blindly trusting P isn't the way to go, but maybe I shouldn't be paranoid, either. I should just see how things go and then judge my time with P only in comparison to my time with P and not any time I've spent with Snoopy. And I suppose beating myself up for being a little scared is also not productive. I'll be fine, no matter what. Maybe not. But in my sense, I will. I don't even know if this thing with P will go anywhere..... Hsss me being selfish again. I just tend to think a lot about thinks like this. I tend to over think. I tend to worry about what people think of me. I tend to worry about things I can#t even possbly know yet. I should take things slowly. I probably won't see P until Wednesday. Three more long days... Why am I so crazy about him? Yes, he's perfect but why am I so selfish? Why can't being friends be enough for me? Maybe it is? I want to be held by him but I don't want him to hold me. I want to be held because it'd feel nice and amazing and everything, but i don't want him to hold me because he'd notice how fat I am and he'd

I wrote these whole 300 pages but I ended at a hood point so I won't try to think aaviyt it anymore

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e-m-p-error · 11 months

Text

Ozzie, RoboFizzes, and Creating Life

While he was able to create life in the form of his Breeders, the Incubi and Succubi he was able to birth on his own, it didn’t feel quite like he created life.

For a long time, he tried to create anything and everything that he could, but he wasn’t quite capable of making life to his own nearly impossible standards.

The bots all come with adjustable “Horniness Settings,” which can go from being able to keep up with Ozzie (his are the only ones outfitted well enough to maintain that), to having almost no sex drive at all. Ozzie struggles not to make them horny, but he’s capable of it and would be able to make them that way.

His, however, become very distressed if their settings are configured “inappropriately,” which is anything less than “YES ALWAYS.”

#HEADCANONS ➽➽➽#And The Word On The Street Is That You Sleep With Everyone You Meet (σzzιє)

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shinra-makonoid · 1 year

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I've seen you reblog some statistics about transition regret and happiness (like a year ago). Do you keep up with that?

Recently I've come across this shit (blog name checks out) https://www.tumblr.com/thrown-away-opinions/717953618197807104/happened-to-someone-i-know-just-recently-has-the?source=share

I honestly don't get where they take their information from "majority end up detransing" or "regret it later". And even if true how can it ever be a justification to block care for all (especially adults!) when the evaluation and diagnosis process should be the thing to be improved on.

Let's put aside the hypocrisy with "normal" people getting cosmetic surgery or women who receive "unnecessary" surgeries for stuff that can be endured like atrocious menstrual pain. Aside of that directly infringing bodily autonomy these people are okay with "normal" cosmetic surgery but when it involves trans it's horrible and comparable with Mendlers Nazi experimentations (that btw in contrasts to popular opinion also involved experimenting on lgbt people). And then the argument it's all new, it's not! They (the Nazis) also got rid of all the books of Hirschfeld (who did research on transsexuality and "Sexualwissenschaft" ).

I'm no longer sad or scared I'm actually pissed and very annoyed by these stupid bigots violently imposing their ideals on others, hiding behind religions, traditions, "family values" or "save the poor kids" . As illustrated by this bad-faith video featuring an admission of receiving informed consent.

The worst part is that this exact way of thinking I'm describing here for myself is what they probably feel when making their arguments against us. I think I'm right and reasonable, they think the same about themselves. But which approach is more successful? This was always the difference (on so many topics!): People who are ready to be violent and deceiving pushing for their ideals and people who are trying to go for a dialog, compromising, trying not to be violent and appeal to the people to be accepting of their ideals. And this up and down between right and left is never ending, I know. I also know if the non-violent side becomes violent or even semi-violent it directly said "you're not better than them, cause you are using the same tactics" .

But maybe we all should. Not just with these fucked up laws in US, also with the protests in UK, the protests for labour rights, the ones for retirement age in France, the protests in Turkey, in Iran, in everywhere. It is so fucking apparent that these people don't want to be violent (of course some people always are) but the majority wants peaceful change. Protesting against people who do not play by the rules and make up laws on the whim cannot be reasoned with.

I'm really really sorry for this rant. You don't have to publish this if you don't want, I'm just really frustrated and mad.

I don't keep up with statistics because I don't believe there's an increase of detransitioning at all. It's been more than 5 years that I first started believing that, and even when the "great breakthrough" of detransitioner happened, there wasn't that many people at all. Most were reidentified, which is a normal processus upon questioning.

For the video, honestly it just gives me anti-vaxx vibes. They tie things that may or may not be related to medical transition, with no proof at all, except for like, two people. The one saying she feels pain everywhere sounds like she has fibromyalgia (not caused by medically transitioning), and in their website it's: "I have no breasts and suffer chronic pain from childhood and early adult testosterone use. Legal help can aid in getting my life back." There is nothing indicating that testosterone use could cause chronic pain in children or adults? So yeah, vaxx vibes. The other one with her singing career? You could link it to testosterone because of the changing of voice, but… You knew about that, like? I'm just so confused about people being like "yeah I read that this is what's gonna happen under meds" and then "oh no this happened under meds", bro? And let me tell you, I can rant a bit too, in psychiatric institutions they don't tell you what secondary effects happen with meds you take, and in general with psychiatrists, they don't tell you shit about secondary effects. I was the ONLY ONE in the clinic who was looking through each med to learn what it was doing because that shit has real heavy secondary effects, it's not candies, they have more side effects than testosterone ever had, and nobody talks about it. Bad personal experience aside, I can recognize that in some cases this is important to use them, though I do think that psychiatrists have a tendency to give them like candies and without talking seriously about side effects and shit. And psy meds are much more taken by "young adult and minors human females" than testosterone will ever be. Scott is a well known anti-trans trans guy who got a failed phalloplasty. So it's about an extreme minority of a minority, he got seven surgeries "to transition to male" and I suspect that most of them are in regards to his phalloplasty was a nightmare (btw nothing in the study he quotes sustain what he claims about HRT it's a bone density study so idk why that's there). Sure, again, surgery and especially phalloplasty is a complicated and uncertain surgery and I would personally not do it because of the potential costs, but he is 45 years old, he got all the tools to decide if that was the path he wanted to go through. He chose that as an adult, that's not related to kids transing.

The only one with some sort of a case is the one who was 16, transitioned and then regretted not having kids at 21, because I'm not sure we have sufficient data in regards to fertility with the use of testosterone, to assert that this is reversible. That said, fertility should not be the reason as to not treat someone too, so it's a debatable thing. I don't have any hard view on that, but so far there has not been proof that after stopping T you could be forever infertile (very tiny sample so take it with a grain of salt). However, you can freeze eggs now? So unless you got a full hysterectomy (which the one talking in the video probably did not go through, or she would have bragged about it to get more points about how kids are being butched up by the evil surgeons).

Their website looks like a scam. I am tempted to contact them to see how their process goes to be perfectly honest, maybe I will. And then there's the "Gender Mapping Project", claiming to have more than 700 gender clinics across the USA, that are all apparently completely overbooked? Not sure how they are doing their "Gender Mapping", because none of the methodology is explained anywhere (that would be too easy), and everything is kept secret because…? We don't really know why it is at all. But if you're looking for a gender clinic accross the world, there are some listed on it. They have also a very biased anti-porn view obviously. Now there are really alarming testimonies, and if they're true I am very against the way doctors are handling it (one says that she got told to watch youtube videos to learn how to do a T shot? And when asked for side effects, got asked if "he really wanted to do it or not", like this isn't how it's supposed to be at all, but also why look for testosterone if you don't know the side effects…?), but again, you could have the same exact kind of view in regards to psychiatrists. It's not specific towards gender clinics, it's specific to bad doctors, and overall a very vertical way of seeing patient/doctor relationships.

Anyway I agree with your rant 100%. However I know that violence has likely never really brought peace for a few years after, it was rather worse, and then maybe a little bit better… So idk what's really the right course for any of this.

Thanks for the ask.

#long post #anon #ask

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bisexualbumblebee-writes · 1 year

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Lost and Found Part 2- Michael Shelley x OC

Michael Shelley x Danica Cromwell

Description: “Michael” and Danica meet face to face again after years apart.

Word Count: 1.9k

It took a moment for anything to happen, but then Danica was forced to watch with bated breath as the door slowly swung open with a quiet creak. There was only darkness on the other side despite the fact that it was only 1:00 p.m. The girl’s eyes widened as someone stepped out from the darkness, as if they were finally able to form by stepping into the light. To her surprise, it was the Archivist, Jonathan Sims if she remembered correctly. Her brows furrowed and she stood, but couldn’t say anything before a second figure appeared.

At first glance it looked like her Michael. But after getting a closer look, she realized that several things were wrong. Upon closer inspection she realized he was just a bit too tall. His arms were just a bit too long, as were what she assumed were supposed to be the fingers at the ends of his hands. His blonde hair was just dull enough to be noticeable compared to what she remembered and his eyes may have been just a bit too blue to look natural. Even his (admittedly) retro clothes, despite being the same ones she last saw him in, were off. Nevertheless, it looked real enough to make her question it.

“Michael?” She whispered with a quivering lip, tears welling up in her eyes. The creature visibly hesitated, almost as if he didn’t know how to answer.

“Not quite.” Even his voice was a little too high pitched and airy compared to the one she remembered. There was also a light, echoing ring to it that unsettled her more than she already was. By this point Jon had moved to stand beside Martin, and they watched the interaction silently. Danica looked back at them nervously, but Jon simply nodded while Martin offered her a reassuring and encouraging smile. What was she supposed to do now?

“You’ll know what to do when the time comes.” Martin’s words echoed in her head. He’d told her that after he explained what was about to happen. But what was that supposed to mean? How was she supposed to know? The answer was she couldn’t. So, she decided to just do the first thing that came to her mind. She looked at Michael once again and slowly yet carefully began walking over to him/it. The light ringing in the back of her head grew louder the closer she stepped to him, though she couldn’t tell if it was the creature itself or the fact that she was still attempting to process the situation.

The creature didn’t say anything, instead watching as she grew closer. Once she stopped in front of him, she cautiously lifted a hand to his cheek, which didn’t actually feel like a cheek despite the visual illusion it gave off. Initially the creature flinched, not quite used to such a tender touch, but eventually its face settled into her hand. A tear slipped down her cheek as she and the creature met halfway to rest their foreheads against each other. It felt natural, like they were just supposed to do that despite the abnormality of the situation. His forehead felt exactly like his cheek, but she couldn’t bring herself to care. In that moment, the static that filled the room disappeared.

Then, she couldn’t exactly say what happened next. Her eyes had closed for only a moment and when they opened again, she was between Jon and Martin’s arms across the room from the Distortion. It seemed as if she had flown back, but she hadn’t felt anything. Until she opened her eyes she thought she was still beside it.

Her eyes focused on the creature, along with Jon and Martin’s. The three of them watched the creature convulse violently where it stood. It was a horrifying scene that would surely give all three of them nightmares. By the looks of it, it should have been making some sort of agonized sound, but instead all the trio could hear was static growing louder and louder until it just- stopped.

For a moment their vision went black, and next thing they knew Michael- her Michael- was on the ground with blood coming from his stomach. He was unconscious, but his face seemed to be contorted in pain. A woman who didn’t exactly look human stood where the Michael Distortion previously stood. Everyone could only stare at the man in shock, until the woman spoke.

“He’s alive, in case you’re wondering,” She said. “But someone should probably call an ambulance if you don’t want him to bleed out.” Her tone, like Michael’s had been, was airy and echoey, despite the fact that she was still just as in shock as the three mortals.

“Oh- uh, right. I’ll go do that,” Martin, who seemed to have come to his senses, responded before pulling out his phone and walking out of the room. Once he was out of the room, Danica also managed to understand the gravity of the situation and quickly knelt down beside Michael. She pressed her hands to the wound in his stomach in order to at least slow the bleeding. While she did that, she couldn’t help but glance at the unnamed woman in her living room. She hesitated, but her curiosity was overpowering that.

“What…What happened?” She asked quietly. The woman pursed her lips thoughtfully, as if attempting to figure out how to say it.

“Well, it seems that you somehow managed to break Michael away from The Distortion, though I can’t exactly say how. By all means he should be dead, he should have been killed when he became a part of me,” she answered after a minute. “I cannot say that I am not grateful for it though. It is one less identity that I am not forced to have. Now, all I have left is Helen.” She gestured to herself.

“So what happens now?” Danica inquired.

“Since I’m feeling generous, and because I am grateful for your help, I won’t kill you this time. But, you’re too fun not to see again, so I will be seeing you soon.” She seemed to be talking to Jon by the end of her sentence. The man didn’t look surprised by this information, and instead simply nodded. The “woman” nodded in response, bidding her farewell before stepping back into the void behind the door. Once she was gone Danica’s attention was now focused solely on Michael. Her fingers went to his neck, feeling for a pulse. There was one, much to her utter relief, but it was very faint.

“Martin, how far away is the ambulance?” Jon called, tone bordering on concern, as he knelt beside the girl.

“Should be here any minute,” the man responded as he rushed back into the living room with several towels in hand. He crouched down on the side of Michael and pressed one of the towels to his wounds.

Time went by in a blur after that. Danica barely remembered the ambulance showing up or the paramedics taking Michael away. The one thing she did remember was that he was just in a stretcher, not in a black bag, which meant he was still alive (for now at least). Jon and Martin were kind enough to take her to the hospital afterwards, the latter sitting in the back while Jon drove so he could keep her company. She ultimately came to her senses once they pulled up to the hospital, and she was quick to thank them before running inside to figure out whether he would stay alive.

And he did. It was a miracle, according to the doctors. Like Helen said, he should have been dead with how severe his wounds were. But, they were easy enough to fix and he was healing in record time. Danica could have cried upon hearing this, and she begged the doctor to allow her to see him, which he thankfully did.

Michael was asleep when she walked in. Like back at her place, he almost looked dead to her. Thankfully this time she had the heart rate monitors to prove her wrong. It was beating regularly compared to what she felt earlier, and the mere thought brought a smile to her face. Despite the fact that he probably wouldn’t hear her, she made sure she was careful while walking over to her bed and taking a seat beside it. She just watched him for a while, still wrapping her head around the fact that Michael was alive, and he was with her again.

It took a while for him to wake up. Despite the fact that he was healing quicker than expected, his injuries still took a toll on his body. While Danica patiently waited, the police came to talk to her. Thankfully, Daisy and Basira understood that this was another special case that was a circumstance of the Magnus Institute. The two of them covered it up by saying that Michael had simply been the victim of a robbery gone wrong. The thieves were surprised to see someone home after breaking in and stabbed him before running out.

Once that was sorted, all that was left was to continue waiting. Danica rarely left his bedside, only leaving when Martin would force her. She and the other archivists had become rather close during this time, you see. They had been kind enough to scrub any blood out of the carpet and washed the towels Martin had used to stop Michael’s blood from getting out. When she was home one (if not all) was always coming over after work to talk her through this.

Finally, the fateful day came. Danica had been reading beside Michael’s bed when she heard it. The room was quiet enough for her ears to pick up the sound of movement. Knowing that there was no one else in the room, her head whipped up to look at the boy and she realized that his left hand had moved. Her eyes widened and she stood, flinching as the chair she sat in moved back with a screech from the force. She quickly forgot about that discomfort when Michael also flinched, then leaned over him to get a better look at his face.

“Michael?” She asked hopefully, slipping her hand into his. For a moment, there was no response, but then a very gentle squeeze of her hand caught her attention. She looked at their enclosed hands for a split second, and when she looked up Michael’s eyes were slowly fluttering open. A quiet gasp left her lips as the man attempted to gather his bearings. After a minute his eyes caught hers, and a semblance of familiarity shined in his eyes.

“Dani?” He asked quietly, voice hoarse and scratchy as if he hadn’t talked in years. The girl nodded quickly with a teary smile.

“Yeah, it’s me,” she whispered, squeezing his hand gently.

“What…What happened?” He looked around his room as he asked.

“It’s a lot to explain, darling. I think we may have to ease you into it, okay?” Michael didn’t look exactly pleased by her answer, but he nodded nevertheless.

“All that matters right now is that you’ve come back to me and you’re okay,” she added, which seemed to lighten his mood a bit. A small smile played on his lips and he carefully lifted their hands and placed a kiss on the back of hers. This would be quite a long process to explain and ease Michael back into a normal life, but Danica made sure that they would do it together, which was more than enough for Michael.

#the magnus archives #the magnus archives imagine #michael shelley #michael shelley imagine #michael shelley x oc

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father-time-and-baby-new-year · 3 years

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Hey bestie can u make a eren x reader one shot where eren just won’t let the reader move on🙃

thank u anon for this lovely idea

scumbag!eren x crybaby!fem!reader

WARNINGS: dubcon/noncon, past toxic relationship, slut-shaming, possessive behavior, yandere tendencies,

WC: 1.8k

He pins your wrists against the dingy bathroom tiles with an unrelenting grip, and you swear you've never felt more claustrophobic in your life.

The dark-haired boy eyes the glitter on your cheekbones, the neon-colored eyeliner, the rogue on your lips, and the black satin of your mini dress exposing a substantial amount of plush thighs. He's never seen you like this-never allowed you like this before.

You almost feel like uncharted territory but nothing escapes his observant nature. From the tremble of your lips, and the water starting to collect in your lower lash lines, Eren knows this you. Maybe not who you were pretending to be in the strappy heels, low neckline, and the party-girl masquerade you put on in front of your shallow ditzy friends, but he knows who you really are. Vulnerable. Scared of your own shadow.

"E-eren,' You stammer, "Please let me go." You try not to think about the voice cracks, trying to sound as assertive as you could without meeting his eyes. Eren, of course, thinks you look like a baby mouse. Hopeless and trapped.

"Don’t you miss me?" He mummers into the nape of your neck. You have an explosive No prepared in the roof of your mouth, ready to sound out the single syllable, until his hand, adorned with chunky silver rings, covers your mouth, muffling your whimpers. You could taste the metal.

“It’s a rhetorical question.” He’s smirking, green eyes lit up dangerously under the too-white bright lights, “Let me talk okay? I just want you to listen.”

All you’ve ever been doing is letting him walk and talk over you. And then when you finally got the nerve to stand up for yourself-

“I haven’t seen you the past three months” his low voice interrupts your contemplation, “It’s like you’ve been ignoring me.” He finishes flatly, his thin lips stretched into a line. His multitude of ear piercings catches the light, glinting sharply.

It’s too overpowering, his close proximity after going cold turkey. His presence is like a drag of a cigarette after not smoking for months. Hurts your lungs but the remnants of what you used to feel with the sudden rush of nicotine bubbling up again. Because when all is said and done, you’re still deliriously attracted to him. And you hate yourself for it.

You try to focus on the other sensations, sensations that aren’t busy on the feel of his warm breath or his hands holding yours down. You can still hear the song playing from the club.

All my bitches feel like I dodged the county

Fucking with you feel like jail n——-

Yeah, it really did.

Changing tactics, he holds you by your neck instead, giving your aching wrists sweet relief but that relief is nothing compared to the panic of having his beefy hand on your thrumming pulse.

His grasp wasn’t tight. You could breathe, but it was the kind of tight that let you know he would go tighter if you didn’t listen properly. React properly.

“You’re fucking ignoring me again” he’s practically growling the words out, baring all teeth, “I know I’m pretty difficult to tune out, so I would like to know what the fuck you’re thinking about.”

His hand leaves your delicate throat- his knee between your thighs keeps you in place- to roam down the satin of your dress, the fabric clinging to every curve. You hate how scrutinizing his viridian eyes are, feeling a wave of insecurity wash over the previous hot-girl-summer confidence.

He hated how good you looked on the dance floor, laughing with your stupid friends like you had lost all your inhibitions. Hated that you looked so good, everyone could see it. Hated how you didn't notice his eyes boring holes into you. Do you remember the time how you used to be hyper-focused around him? Aware of every movement, aware of every tonal shift?

And now you didn't even look at him.

"Are you thinking of other guys? I saw you grinding on those men like a slut." He presses his body deeper, "Have you fucked any other guys since we broke up? You must have. I know how slutty your pussy is"

You bite down on his hand. Hard.

You're counting on his reflexes, for him to retract his hand and give you an opportunity to run to the door. But Eren has been fighting for years and predicts your maneuver. With a calculated sidestep, Eren lets go of his hand, before promptly slamming you against the bathroom wall again but this time front-first.

Clouds dance in your vision, and you're sure you would have fallen by now if not for him holding you up. Eren uses this newfound position to his advantage by groping your ass, rutting his dick against your backside.

Deciding to be petty, you let the spite-coated venom escape your pretty lips, "Yeah. I fucked so many boys, and they were so much better than y-"

Anger blinded him. Roughly, he turned you around to face him once more, forcing you to look up at the green-eyed monster. He flipped your dress up, nearly ripping it during the process, shoved your lacy panty aside, and plunged his fingers inside. He felt a visceral sense of validation course through him at finding wetness coating his slender fingers to your utter mortification.

"Liar. I know you haven't been fucking anyone else." His smile is all teeth, pearly white and sharp,

You gulp, feeling sweat beading down your neck and arousal pooling at the bottom of your stomach. Damn yourself.

"You don't know that."

He looks almost feral, green eyes in slits and hair all mussed up, falling out of his usual bun. The top few buttons of his black button-up are left unfastened giving you a gracious view of his smooth muscular chest, and the dangling silver cross-chain.

"No, I do. See a little birdie told me all you've been doing the past few months is crying yourself to sleep, and eating frozen meals. This is the first time you've been out since I broke up with you, huh?" Condescension drips with every word.

He thumbs away the tear falling down your cheek with a mocking kindness and adds, "There, there. Don't cry. Good thing I happened to be here tonight, right?"

You're full-blown crying now, too upset to care if you're smudging your make-up. This is the real you. This is how Eren remembers you.

"Awe, my precious little crybaby, don't worry. You came here tonight looking for dick? I'll give it to you. It's okay," He coos, breath tickling the shell of your sensitive ears. Well, every part of you felt sensitive right now.

You're rubbing your eyes, sniffling, "E-exactly. You b-broke up with me, so why are you here? Why can't you just let me be?"

The dark-haired boy sighs, and with an uncharacteristic softness, leans his head down to press his forehead against yours, and intertwines his hand with yours, noses almost touching.

"To be honest, it was just to teach you a lesson." A soft exhale, "I didn't think you'd actually stay broken up with me." He's crushing your fingers now, "Didn't think we'd be broken up with for real."

Your eyes flash with indignation, feeling your body surge with an emotion you couldn't qualify, "I don't care. Yeah, I was sad but god, you were a terrible boyfriend! I'm so much better off without you. All those lonely nights are still better than any night I've ever had with you!"

You're breathless by the time you're done.

"Done with your little monologue?"*

You can feel your shoulders shaking, and you almost want to laugh from the indecorousness of it all. How could he not care? Was this how little you mattered to him?

"I know you're lying because" Without any preamble, he shoves his fingers inside of you again, finding that spongy spot that made your knees weak, eliciting a soft moan from your downturned mouth, "You're wet. And you want me."

"In fact," an edge of excitement colors his voice, "I bet your insides are still molded to fit my dick."

It's hard to talk when one thumb is violently brushing over your clit, and his tongue is forced into your mouth, drowning any whines of protests. You close your eyes, focusing and unfocusing. A hand snakes up your dress to fondle your tits and tease your perky nipples.

It's just one sensation over another, and your sex-deprived body was welcoming all these feelings with open arms. Eren knows your body like it came with an instruction manual and that manual advised him to bite your earlobe, which was especially sensitive. He knew where on your collarbone you liked to be marked, how hard you wanted your nipples pinched, and how you could ride his face with complete abandon.

But right now, he didn't want to pleasure you. He's coaxed enough orgasms out of you throughout your relationship.

He unbuckles his belt and frees his long slender cock, the head a flushed angry red, dribbling with precum. He lines his full-mast cock to your entrance. Fully alert as to what was about to happen, pretty pleas of "no Eren, please don't, no" are falling out of your mouth, wide starlit eyes dotted with pearlescent tears. He kisses the top of your head like the way he always used to.

And then he thrusts himself inside. You give up so easily, he thinks. Do you even realize how you're swinging your hips on your own accord? How you're wrapping your lush legs around his waist to pull him deeper?

His pace is ruthless, making your head bob up and down. Moans and grunts drown out the music from the club. You're begging him to slow down.

"You're mine. Always mine. Always were. Can't fucking believe you really thought-" He doesn't even finish his thought because a violent shudder rips throughout his body.

Your nails are digging into his back, so sharp it could have been clawed. You could feel yourself right on the edge-

The door shakes to reveal a tall young man with slicked-back blond hair with a frat-boy laugh.

"Holy shit! Eren?!"

fuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckcufkcufkcufckfuckfuckfuckfuc

Shame burns your face. You have no choice but to cover yourself behind Eren's broad frame. You're just hoping to every god he'll go away, and keep this to himself.

Your dark-haired ex-boyfriend turns around to face the blond, "A little busy here, Porco. Shut the door. I'm uh, getting reacquainted with someone."

"Goddamn. Is that ___" You don't even have to look at Porco to recognize how impressed he was.

"Get out Porco." Eren growls.

The door closes with a loud thud.

You're borderline hysterical at this point begging Eren to get out of you, but his grip on your hips is iron-tight.

Outside you hear stunned gasps, but one phrase stands out to your straining ears: "Yeah, I guess they're back together."

Eren kisses the top of your head once more, "After I fuck you, we'll go home together girlfriend."

----------

* {A/N}: This line "Done with your little monologue?" is inspired by this delicious fic by @hotwings0203.

#yandere eren x reader #eren yeager x reader #toxic eren #eren yeager x reader fanfiction #attack on titan fanfiction #dubcon tw #tw noncon

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jin0 · 2 years

Text

THE EVE OF A CRUEL ANGEL'S THESIS

CHAPTER 2 : THE CLICHE OF THE DECEASED WIFE

Pairing : Mafia!Stucky x Reader

Summary : After years of absence, you were thought to be dead. But here you were, alive and ready to take everything that was yours, or you'd die trying. And this time, you would take both of them with you.

Warning : 18+ ONLY, Minor DNI, canon level violence, mentions of murder, guns and blood, soft!dark, angst, fluff, trauma (mental and physical)

A/N : the fact that i deleted all dialogue except one sentence to make it more emo ?? i have no business being this dramatic

The habit taken by both the mobsters over the five years of your absence all had something to do with you. Some believed that part of the grieving process meant getting back to normal, living as they used to but slowly incorporating small acts and element that reminded of the person they’d lost. They would slowly built their lives over the debris of their destroyed hearts, changing everything in their daily lives to mimic your presence. It was all fake, all of it, but it felt good.

For Steve and Bucky it was the same.

They slowly added elements of you into their lives, even more than what they had already. Slowly, everything they did had to do with you, you had them wrapped around your fingers even when you were gone. The ghost of you still looming over them, watching, controlling just like a puppeteer would.

They refused to believe that you were dead somewhere, possibly because of them. To them, you were alive and safe, somewhere hiding from them. This was the only explanation, the only one they’d take. Call it love, or maybe obsession, they needed to do this. For their safety and the safety of others. You were simply hiding from them to punish them for their sins.

At first it was more to preserve themselves that they had kept this habit, putting you in their lives as if you were still there. Fake it until you make it right ?

Here, they only hoped to survive.

It wasn’t about succeeding, they didn’t expect or want to succeed at anything. They wanted to live. They could never without you, it was simply impossible. Inconceivable even. So they lied to themselves. For the two first years of your absence, they had lied.

The lie had stopped after an additional night of going to sleep in a bed that lacked your scent. The sweet scent of vanilla, brown sugar, lemon and honey, all of it was gone. They’d buried their faces in the pillows, hoping for one last hint of you but all of it was gone now. They had gone above and beyond to keep the ghost of you for as long as possible but the lie could not go on any longer. Everything around made it clear now, you were gone and most likely to never return.

Steve had been the first to accept it, crying in silence while Bucky slowly got more and more violent. He had to watch as the man he loved, his best friend, a piece of him, slowly let it all out, the longing, the pain, the anger, all of it. The screams of pain that resonated in the house were nothing compared to the sound of them from up close. He hugged the man he loved for hours, begging for him to stop, begging for him to try and calm down, but it was impossible. Maybe it was a proof of his love for you, one last declaration before he let go.

James Barnes was not one to let himself be swallowed by his feelings, but he had no choice here. His only way out was to scream, to let his feelings explode and possessed him entirely. This was his only way of feeling you, grappling at the last bit of emotions he could remember from you. Everything that was left of you was gone, or at least everything non-tangible.

For hours they searched the house and gathered everything that you had left. They were certain that you would be back because everything you owned was here. It had actually made more sense for you to have been taken because everything was left behind. They knew you better than anyone and you never left without at least a few of the things you owned. You’d even left your promise ring here. You adored that ring, so why would you leave it behind ?

No matter what they did to you, you'd never leave your promise ring behind.

They’d been desperate to be relieved from the panic and pain from that day. The day you left.

As they both sat, completely silent and staring at the screen in front of them, they watched the last of what they had saved of you.

Pictures, audio recordings and videos, they watched it all, knowing it by heart but never feeling like they’d seen it all. It wasn’t enough, ever. They always needed to see more, to learn and understand more. Something had them convinced that in these videos and photos were hidden the secrets of your whereabouts. Maybe it was paranoia but it looked more like desperation than anything.

Running inside their home, they could already feel that something was wrong. The feeling of home, the warmth, your scent, it was dissipating in the air with each passing second. The house was cold, as if all the windows had been opened to let out something, to hide something. It was all so windy inside, you’d feel like the smell of the rain that poured outside would’ve spread inside but no. Nothing could hide this familiar scent they’d grown used to, a scent that symbolized the life they lived.

All around, everything smelled like blood, as if dozens of bodies were littered around the place and the smell of their rotting bodies had spread to engulf yours and make it all a memory. You were already fading in their lives, they could feel it.

We could raise that it was the blood that poured out of their own wounds or the rapid pace of their hearts, hammering so violently against their ribcage that it could be heard by anyone around. All these could be the factors that weighted the most in their current state, but they knew better. They knew something was wrong, it was evident. They could feel it trembling in their bones, their entire beings screaming for them to be quick, before it was too late.

They climbed the stairs, running and screaming your name in vain. They pleaded for you to reveal yourself, to make yourself known. They needed to know that you were still here, still with them. It took them an two hours to give up. You weren’t in the house and there was no point in wasting anymore time.

They sent a dozen different teams to look for you, search the entirety of New York and turn it all upside down. Anything that would give them an answer was good enough. Each flight, each train, each taxi and bus. They’d take anything to find you, losing you was never an option. They couldn’t accept it.

“You search all over New York. Every garden, forest, house. Everything that could be familiar to her, where she’d feel safe. You find her.” Had said Bucky, trying his best to maintain himself clear and composed.

To the normal eye, it would feel wrong. The two claimed to love her so deeply but one looked as frozen as ice while the other was absent. But Steve’s absence was enough of an answer to the curiosity of those who did not know better than to assume.

Steve was standing alone, in the room you three shared, holding a bloody cloth. Your scent coated the fabric as well as your blood. He could feel the mix between the heat of a piece of clothing freshly worn, and the freezing liquid.

His silence spoke a thousand words. Words of pure anger, betrayal, fear and desperation. These emotions he’d felt before felt new now, as he’d been reborn after you. Nothing could settle the heart of a men who’d managed to get a taste at unconditional love and acceptance after years of deprivation and self restraint. He’d kept himself and his heart safe by centering it on Bucky alone but you’d been a door to greater bliss and now that he had seen what was out there, he refused to go back in the darkness.

His grip on the piece of cloth was held tight enough to see his knuckles visibly turn white and the excess blood drip all over the skin of his palms.

Bucky stayed quiet, fist held tightly and teeth gritted together. The answer to the question he could feel ring inside his lover’s head stayed stuck in his throat, like a knot of tears threatening to jump out and explode. His only possibility was to hug the man he loved, hug him with all his might and try in vain to sooth the small shake of his large body. He was quickly rejected and watched Steve exit the room sadly.

He needed to find balance in the blond man, needed to remind himself that there was still a chance. Maybe you weren’t far, maybe you’d forgive and forget the events that preceded your disappearance. Maybe you’d be clement, generous and prove to them that you would love them no matter what. This was their hope. Because you had promised to love you with everything you had, no matter what.

But in the world they lived in, hopes were meant to be buried or they’d be crushed.

As the hours passed, the guilt and regret started to pile up over the rest. The exhaustion from the previous days, the bloody wounds and violent migraines. They were drained of life and devastated by the day’s discoveries. Nothing could save them, not even your presence, that could be felt as it slowly dissipated and disappeared with the last bits of your sweet scent and lingering warmth you

They’d lost you.

It took eight hours of search before each team concluded in the worst case scenario, you had disappeared. Above hope, true terror had made its way into their heart and grew each passing second. You could be dead just like you could be alive, but the latter was more probable. They knew the lives they lived and exposed you to, your death could be the only way but mourning was impossible. They couldn’t allow the thought of your death to cement itself in them. They refused to grieve and to move on, so they lived with your shadow looming over them.

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ghoul333 · 3 years

Text

serial lover

chapter one(?)

pairing: billy x f!reader

wc: 2.8k

summary: billy wants to kill you, but you change his mind last minute.

warnings: angst, murder, swearing, fluff(?)

a/n: i used both their point of views so i hope it came out alright. i definitely want to write another chapter. hope you enjoy! <3

He looked at you from afar. Lurking in the bushes, watching your every move. It was pretty much turning into a daily routine. He wanted you, bad. Billy was heavily debating when to break in one of these nights to kill you. Lucky for him, tonight might be the night, your parents weren't home and your siblings were nowhere to be seen. Just you, sitting pretty on your bed and staring at the ceiling.

You were the perfect victim. It had been a few years since the first killing spree in Woodsboro. Everything for the most part had gone back to normal. They thought about it for a while, and considering they had succeeded the first time, Billy and Stu decided to give it another go. Only for this job was Billy on his own, Stu being with his girlfriend.

A kind, innocent girl like you? That would be fun. Though you had never wronged the pair, you were somewhat of a loner. Quiet but willing to help when needed. Might've been a distasteful move, but damn was Billy eager to hear what your screams sounded like.

And now that you were alone, it was the perfect time to play a game.

Only you weren't.

Your brother in law, Ian, was in the living room, watching a hockey game.

Billy got into a stance when he saw you getting up from the bed, figuring you would leave the room. Instead, you paced in circles. He looked down at your hands, you were flicking your index finger against your thumb, as if it was out of anxiety. You seemed to be contemplating something.

You looked at yourself in the mirror. Billy having to duck down so you wouldn't spot him. It would be a different story if he was dressed up as himself, you two were acquainted after all, having one or two classes together. But he wasn't exactly 'himself' right now, he was Ghostface. Though he and Ghostface were one in the same, you didn't know that. You would only see a masked psycho hiding in your bushes.

He was about to pick up his cellphone to call your house phone, but something stopped him. His hand was frozen in place. When he looked back to you, he noticed a change in your expression.

You were crying in the mirror.

Billy cocked his head. What the fuck was this? One minute you're fine and seemingly calm. Then the next minute you're crying as if something traumatic happened.

He raised his brows, surprised when you stopped crying immediately, as if on cue. Your eyes had been glossy but were now completely dry.

Holy shit. Where did you learn that? He thought.

You didn't look sad anymore. In fact there was no emotion at all and for some reason, Billy loved it.

—

You wiped the tears off your face and stared at yourself in the mirror. Taking a deep breath.

Was that believable? I think so.

A part of you wished you had someone here to let you know, but this was something you needed to do by yourself. You didn't even know if you were gonna go through with it, but the urge wouldn’t leave your mind.

Hearing a loud cheer from the other room, you groaned in disgust. You had a hard time believing your family would leave Ian here with you. Especially after all the shit you've taken from him.

You could confidently say that you hated your brother in law. Your sister disappointed you, putting up with trash like him and you resented your family for tolerating it for as long as they have. For over a year, he had lived in your house. Being nothing but a bum. Always being a fucking asshole to you and your family, then making you feel like shit when you call him out.

He could get away with it too. The fact your father was rarely in town made it easy and you hated it. You hated him. You wanted him gone, for good.

You knew there was only one way. No matter how many fights, he wouldn't leave. Refused to.

If he was gone, everything would be fine. It'd take time for some people to heal, but this was for the best.

Thinking about it put a smile on your face. Even though the inhuman thoughts ashamed you, you couldn't help but let them excite you at the same time. Never in your life had you wanted to do something like this, but you craved to see that piece of shit suffer. This would be the only time, and hopefully you wouldn't get caught.

You opened up your drawer, pulling out some scissors, studying them for a few seconds before putting them back.

You weren't ready to get blood on your hands. You looked around your room, trying to find something easy and simple. You looked down at your rack of shoes. Suddenly, an idea popped into your head.

You pulled the lace from one of your old sneakers, you'd have to dump them afterwards but you wouldn't miss them. While you wrapped the string around both your hands, something came over you. You didn't even realize you were walking to the living room, until you were standing right behind him while he watched his game. At that point, your body was doing the talking. Fuck what was actually right. Fuck morals.

Billy watched all this, following your every move. He cursed himself for not noticing the other obvious person in the house. How stupid. If he decided to pursue you there was a greater chance he wouldn't get away. Stu would've had to come. You kind of saved him there.

Seeing the single shoelace in your grip and standing so close behind Ian, he was actually anticipating your next move. Which surprised him, you had him on the edge of his seat. You had opened his eyes in those last few minutes. You had him so confused.

He had been watching you for days, basically knew your day and night routine. So, where did this come from? You put on an act, even for yourself?

He couldn't deny he thought you were, somewhat, adorable. Many victims had been adorable, but being adorable doesn't mean shit to Billy. If he wanted to gut you, he would.

There were times where you would just sit and stare into a void, but he didn't really think anything of it. He didn't realize how fucked up in the head you really were.

He couldn't kill you now, definitely not. You were turning out to be just as insane as he was. Billy felt drawn to you. He was rooting for you.

You stood there long enough for Ian to notice your presence behind him. Not even turning around, he opened his mouth.

"What the fuck do you wa-" He didn't even get to finish his sentence before you wrapped the shoelace around his neck, attempting to strangle him.

Hearing him speak irritated the fuck out of you. You'd rather cut your own ears off, but why do that? He should just simply stop talking.

He was strong, but you gave yourself props for not wearing socks, your feet were planted firmly on the ground, and they weren't going anywhere. His arms were violently swinging, voice coming out in gargles. How long did I need to do this for? Maybe a plastic bag would've been easier.

It felt like forever until he quit moving. Eventually, his arms fell limp and his breathing stopped. You stood there for a moment, the lace still wrapped around him. Had you killed him?

You decided you wanted to be sure, jerking the shoelace against his neck just one more time.

Suddenly his arm flew up, grabbing the shoelace and trying to jerk your body forward. You begin to struggle against him, pulling the lace as tight as you could so he couldn't grip it, but he was able to overpower you within seconds. Yanking you over the sofa he had been sitting on, you groaned in pain as your back hit the floor. The air being knocked out of you.

Where did that adrenaline come from?

Watching you flip like that, for some reason, worried Billy. Even he thought you had him. He couldn't let this happen, he felt the strong urge to come to your rescue. Sure, some random guy dying by the hands of ghostface didn't fit the route they were trying to take, but Billy was going to protect you tonight. He needed to.

He quickly got up from where he was crouched, beginning to creep his way towards the house. He figured he needed to move fast considering how much smaller you were compared to the man you were trying to murder.

"You little fucking bitch!" Ian managed to seethe, voice extremely hoarse. He got up from where he was standing and grabbed you by the hair, making you cry out pain. Billy heard the commotion from outside, and the sound he'd been wanting to hear. He didn't like it. Why?

Why did it make him angry to hear you in pain?

You wanted to avoid eye contact with Ian, but he yanked your hair again, making you face him. The look in his eyes seemed hungry, and not in a good way.

He gave you a vile smile, before slapping you across the face, making you tumble to the floor once again. You slowly reached up, touching your cheek. A single tear threatened to fall but you quickly blinked it away. It burned, almost vibrating from the impact. You knew the slap was hard enough for blood to come through.

Fuck.

You figured you were screwed, if you knew he was gonna grab you like that you would've just duct taped him to the coach. You really did not think this one through, even though you had been thinking about it for months on end.

You felt his body heat centimeters away from you. Looking up at him, he hovered over you.

"Thank you for finally giving me a reason to do that." He said, his tone spilling venom. "I'm gonna enjoy this."

You just stared at him, you weren't scared or upset. You couldn't even be mad, you just attempted to strangle your sisters husband. What could've been expected? You probably didn't have a great chance of succeeding anyway, but you couldn't fight your urges anymore.

People like him deserved death.

You didn't have time to process another thought before Ian picked you up, throwing you against the wall. You yelped as your side impacted harshly against the wood floor. You didn't even want to look at him anymore, you had failed and were probably gonna die, or get beat into a coma.

You didn't feel him grab you again. You didn't feel him pin you against the wall. You didn't feel the corner of the table next you digging into your side. You didn't feel anything. Not even the tears falling from your eyes.

"Don't cry now darling," He whispered in your ear, you shuddered in disgust. "This is what you wanted."

His voice made you want to vomit. Cigarettes and cheap beer leaking off his tongue. Even with him up to your ear, you could smell it. He was so fucking close. Everything about this man made you sick. You couldn't understand how your sister slept beside this thing at night.

He held your body against his while he shifted his hands. They wrapped around your throat and squeezed, very hard. You couldn't breathe. You wanted to just let it happen but your body was thinking ahead of you, once again. You grabbed his hands, trying to pry him off.

You actually couldn't fucking breathe. You were going to die, staring into this mans lifeless eyes, hearing his heaving breathing...his body pressed against yours. You would rather get stabbed to death. Or burned alive. You just didn't want him to be the last thing you saw before you died. You didn't want to die.

I fucked up.

Maybe you were selfish too. You were better off just hurting yourself to ease the pain. You couldn't get him off you and it was painful. Your vision was starting to blur.

You used your feet to try and push him off you, but your attempts failed.

Unexpectedly, you fell to the floor with a thud. You quickly inhaled a large breath of air, a small coughing spell following. You couldn't hear or see anything in that moment, just trying to get up, desperately trying to regain your strength.

Breathing had never felt so good.

Weak and in pain, you used one hand to guide your way up the wall, while the other one held your throat. As you regained your vision and started to focus on your surroundings, you began to hear struggling. Lots of struggling. You were confused, you thought it was just the both of you. As you looked up, you noticed a cloaked figure on top of Ian.

Billy had gotten into the house from your laundry room window, finding the entrance a few days ago when he was planning how he would kill you. He crept in, being as quiet as a ghost. When he turned the corner, he saw Ian pressing you deep against the wall. He watched you struggle and fight, a few tears falling from your eyes.

He tackled your brother in law to the floor, making him lose his grip on you. Billy managed to gain the upper hand quickly, getting on top of him and wrapping his hands around his throat. Ian kicked his legs, but it did no good. Billy was too far up on his chest, sinking all his body weight onto him.

You stood there and watched. You were confused and shocked on what was happening, on where this guy came from. You looked down, noticing a knife next to the person in the black cloak. You begin to panic a little inside, wondering whether this person was saving your life or here to take you both out.

It only then hit you that the knife and the black costume seemed way too familiar.

Oh shit...It can't be.

Was this, The Ghostface?

From what you and the rest of Woodsboro knew, that killer who committed all those murders years ago was supposed to be dead. So what was he doing here?

You snapped back into reality when you heard Ian trying to speak. Looking at the both of them, you saw Ian's arms swing violently once again. Billy had managed to dodge most the swings, his arms steadily pressing down on Ian's throat. He did take a few hits to the face though, but he had been through worse.

It wasn't until he started reaching for the mask.

Billy could only lean back so far, if he tried anymore Ian would gain the upper hand in a matter of seconds. He usually didn’t care, since they were going to be dead anyway, but he wasn’t going to kill you.

You noticed what was happening, even with Ghostface's back turned to you. You slowly crept your way towards them, until you could see Ian's face again.

His eyes were wide as plates and his skin looked tight as the killer pushed down on his throat. Ian's eyes snapped to you, making Billy turn his head a little to see you in his peripheral vision. You could tell by the look in Ian's eyes that he wanted your help.

Tough shit.

You slowly walked around the two, Ian was convinced you were gonna help him, beginning to reach for the mask again, fingers brushing the mouth, trying to find a grip. You kneeled, grabbing Ian's arms, pinning him down. Your gazed flickered towards the mask killer, to find he was already looking in your direction.

You decided to flash him a smile. Though you couldn't see behind that mask, Billy had the same expression.

You lowered your body down, until your mouth was leveled with Ian's ear. He was trying to fight against you, but he had no more strength. He was done for.

"See you in hell, fat shit." You spoke into his ear.

Gargles could only be heard, and the hockey game playing on the tv was basically non existent. The life Ian once had, was now gone. You slowly stood up, ghostface doing the same. You both looked at his lifeless body.

“I don’t know whether I should say thank you, or start running.” You said, letting out a laugh. It hurt like hell to speak. Your eyes moved to the masked killer and once again, he was already looking at you.

You both stared at each other for a few seconds, before he took a step closer to you. You didn’t back up, and for some reason you didn’t feel afraid. Billy reached out his hand, lightly touching your throat.

You weirdly didn’t mind the feeling, you weren’t scared of his touch, in fact, it was very gentle.

His hand trailed up, cupping the cheek that had been slapped. His thumb lightly rubbed your cheek and you couldn’t help but sigh.

“Thank you.” You told him, but he didn’t say anything. You knew he couldn’t speak, he wasn’t gonna let you find out who he was. If you recognized the voice or didn’t there was still a chance.

A car pulling up into the driveway made you and Billy snap your attention to the front of the house. He looked at you once again, seeing the fear in your eyes. He had to help you out some more, and you couldn’t be awake for it to work.

“I’m sorry.” Billy lowly mumbled, before knocking you unconscious.

#slasher x reader #billy loomis x reader #ghostface x reader #ghostface #billy loomis #slasher fanfiction #scream #slasher fucker

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