#why is he acknowledging us this is going to make some people so much worse
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im going to kill whoever it was that made him do this
#absolutely not#why is he acknowledging us this is going to make some people so much worse#taika waititi#thor love and thunder
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could you do something about how alastor gets jealous and how he shows it? Like what things would get him jealous and stuff like that and then how he would go about it? Thank you!
I guess I gotta- 🥵
Alastor X Reader Headcanons
✅️Romantic
❌️Platonic
TW: Alastor being a red flag, Wifey is into it even though she pretends not to be, A widdle suggestive
Description: ☝️⬆️
It doesn't take much to make Alastor jealous, he has a big ego to defend and doesn't like to share your attention
He also doesn't think a lot of people are worthy of your attention so that's a big part of it
Alastor is almost childish the way he acts out when he's jealous, it's painfully obvious even though he denies it every time
He sulks and acts out to get your attention back on him, doing anything he can to make you just look at him
He's rude and intimidating to anyone he thinks is flirting with you or trying to take you for themselves
After every incident, he tries to pretend like nothing happened and refuses to acknowledge his jealous streak
Can't people just understand that you're a married woman and that Alastor deserves all of your time???
Someone is talking to you and you're laughing too hard, cheeks a little too pink? Alastor is right there to sniff out any ill intention
"What's so funny, my dear? Surely you're not gossiping without me.."
He's wrapping a protective arm around you and kissing your cheek, eyeing the other person the entire time as he asserts his husbandly dominance over them
"Hm? Oh! He was telling me a funny joke about-"
Alastor takes a break from kissing your wrist and palm to snap his gaze to the other man, a wicked gleam in his eye
"Ohhhh! So you're a clown! Wonderful~! Your attire had me wondering what you do for a living, but now it all makes sense!"
The other person is visibly uncomfortable by your husband's unspoken challenge and backs out of the conversation with their tail between their legs
"I guess he had other things to do~"
You roll your eyes as Alastor nuzzles your neck, petting his around his ears and antlers
"You're are not a very subtle man, my dear."
You're dancing with someone who's not him? Alastor will physically shut that shit down
He spends maybe a full minute pouting and ignoring everyone else around him, eyes locked on you and your dance partner
"Alastor, are you even listening?"
"Out of all the women here, why did he choose MY wife? I walked away for one second, and he snatched her up!"
He doesn't care for how closely they're holding you, the way they blush and smile from your attention
Alastor isn't having it, striding over and using his hip to push the man away from you and off the dance floor, taking your hand
You're trying not to smile at him, pressing against your husband as you take his hand and dance with him
"Alastor, that was rude..."
He simply chuckles and spins you around happily, snapping his fingers to change the song into something more romantic
"I would say I'm sorry but we both know I'm not~ Besides, I waited for my chance to dance with you!"
It's hard to stay mad at him when he's looking at you like you're the only person in the world and holding you like you're something precious
It helps that he's so handsome, you can't help but lean up and steal a kiss from him, feeling familiar butterflies at the touch
"You've been dancing with me all night, and you barely waited a minute... you greedy demon~"
He leans into your hand as you cup his cheek, tail wagging from having your undivided attention again
"Is it a crime that I want to hog my darling wife? That I crave every opportunity to dance with her and steal the show?"
He's leaning in for another kiss, and it makes you instinctively move in closer to meet his lips
"It will be if you keep injuring people~"
And those are just some examples of people who weren't flirting with you, it's so much worse when someone actually wants you
You're waiting for your husband to meet with you for your date, dressed up and looking your absolute best
When you hear a sharp whistle from behind, only to see a sleazy looking demon towering over you and eyeing your body
"And just where do you think you're going looking like that, beautiful? My place is that way~"
He's much too close, placing a hand on the wall behind you in order to keep you from running, completely unaware of the danger he's in
You can't help but roll your eyes at the situation
"I'm flattered, really I am... but I'm not interested, I'm waiting for someone, actually."
You casually move out from under his arm, completely unfazed by the way his expression darkens as you fix your appearance
"Oh really? And just who might you be waiting for? Let me guess, your boyfriend?"
He doesn't look like he believes you, making air quotes around the word boyfriend
You can't help but laugh at the poor soul, putting a hand on your hip as you whip around to face him-
"Husband, actually~ My name is Alastor though maybe you'll recognize my other name! The Radio Demon~ Maybe you've heard of me?"
It's such a treat to watch the cocky demon lose his composure in fear and so sexy to watch your husband be the cause of it
The demon is so much larger than Alastor but he's practically cowering away from him, Alastor grinning at him as he tilts his head
"Look uh-I'm sorry! I didn't realize-"
Your husband tuts at the demon, antlers already growing as he morphs into his larger demonic form
You can't help but blush at how sweet Alastor is being, rushing to your rescue like this
"Didn't realize what? That you were hitting on my wife? You think I would just stand by and let you think you have a shot with her? She's much too far out of your league, unfortunately."
He's so cute when he's jealous
"Darling, do be quick with that? I don't want to miss our reservation-and no eating him! I don't want you to spoil your appetite!"
Alastor looks at you and visibly blushes at how good you look, the other demon simply an afterthought as he tears them apart
"My dear, you look absolutely ravishing~ How am I going to keep the other men from looking at you when you're so delectable?"
He's still humongous, a large claw reaching out to stroke your leg tenderly, a lovesick expression on his face
You can practically see the hearts in his eyes~ Smiling at your husband and blowing him a kiss
"It's a good thing that you're the only man I have eyes for then, isn't it?"
He shrinks back down to his normal size and kisses your hand before wrapping an arm around you as you two walk together
"It's something that I'm extraordinarily grateful for~"
You can't help but lean your head against him, letting him nuzzle the top of your head in an affectionate manner
"Though~ I wouldn't mind a refresher of just how much you adore me...~"
You can't help but snort at the comment, gently slapping his chest before pulling him in for a kiss
"Dinner first~ You'll need your strength~"
I might go back and change this one a bit ngl
#hazbin hotel x reader#alastor hazbin hotel x reader#alastor hazbin x reader#alastor x reader#hazbin x reader
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Hiiiii thanks for making my day your the best, I give you so many hug (or high fives if you don't want hugs!) If I may ask can you write a broken relationships with malleus pretty please with a cheery on top? ( Also can I be lizard anon please! 🦎)
I would gladly accept any and all hugs! And I will devour that cherry while I write this-
Malleus I feel would be one of the ones that actually would be a good sibling so it's difficult to think about how a broken sibling relationship with him would be lol
Note: I haven't read any of Chapter 7 yet
Request Rules and Masterlists
Broken Sibling relationships
Malleus as a sibling (Broken relationship)
To say that you and Malleus were different would've been an understatement.
Even as kids, you two were very different. He was always treated as the best and the golden child, seen with much love, and he was naturally talented at just about anything. He had no problems with magic, no threats, and no flaws. He was the perfect heir for the throne of Briar Valley
And you? You were his younger sibling.
Compared to Malleus, you were never anyone's priority
Of course, you had servants and knights helping you just like him, but anything Malleus needed always took priority
Your help could be taken away at any moment for the sake of Malleus getting help
In the beginning, it didn't bother you as much because you and Malleus were together a lot of the time! He would spend a lot of time with you, and the two of you had so much fun together
You two would spend hours together in the library, and Malleus would read to you books on magic and history, but he got really passionate when he read about gargoyles. The two of you even ran around the castle once, trying to identify each gargoyle, both of your laughter echoing through the halls for guards and servants to hear
But as the years went by, things changed. Malleus had to become more of the heir he's meant to be. He spent most of his time alone or surrounded by guards
You started to get used to being in Malleus' shadow and not taking priority. Your brother had helped you feel less alone and more equal in the past, but he was too busy for you now
everything only got worse once you two had gone to Night Raven College
Malleus was praised from the moment he got there of course. He was recognized as one of the greatest and best of everyone there. He even had knights in training with him here, and a personal greeting from the headmage. You however...
"Who are you?"
You weren't even recognized or known. Not to the headmage, not to anyone. Why would you be? You aren't the heir of Briar Valley. You aren't the great wizard that Malleus is. And you aren't nearly as important.
Even after explaining who you were, people would just go "Oh." and ask about Malleus
To them, you might as well not even have a name. You were barely noticed. Barely recognized. And even when you were, you were simply known as Malleus' sibling. Nothing more.
And to top it all off: You weren't even invited to things
If people couldn't remember to invite Malleus, there's no way they remembered you. They probably didn't even know you existed. You're just in the background
You saw all the games he played in, all the praise he got, heck one of his knights practically worshiped the ground he walked on, but not when it came to you
People avoided him, they didn't notice or ignored you
Eventually, your birthday came around, and of course, no one noticed. Malleus didn't even see you at all, and didn't say anything
Your own brother didn't remember your birthday...
Are you cursed or something? Cursed to never be seen? Cursed to forever live a life that no one will notice? It's so cruel...
It's not like you wanted anything grand. You didn't need some big fancy party for your birthday
You just wanted to be acknowledged. For one day.
But compared to Malleus, you might as well be insignificant. He shone too brightly for anyone to even see you, hidden in his shadow
Even on a day that should be dedicated to you, he was the one being praised and followed around. He was the one everyone adored. Malleus, the prince of Briar Valley...
You were insignificant, unimportant, ignored
At this point, you can't even help but wonder if even Malleus himself forgot about you completely
you had assumed that was the case
that is, until you opened the your door the next morning. Sitting outside was a neatly wrapped gift box, and inside, a small gargoyle statue
#twst#twisted wonderland#twisted wonderland x reader#twst x reader#malleus draconia#malleus x reader#malleus draconia x reader
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The way things were before (Platonic Yandere Muzan x reader)
This was inspired by the last episode of the latest season where we get some Muzan lore. This is kinda my first time writing real angst so tell me what you think. Keep in mind this is based on the anime and I haven't actually read the manga.
Pt.2
Check out my other works here: Masterlist.
Anger.
Ever since Muzan was young, one emotion he always felt was anger. It stuck to him like a tumor, destroying him from the inside out.
He felt anger for his illness that prevented him from having a real life. He felt anger for having to be tested on by doctors nearly daily. He felt anger that people looked down upon him as he grew weaker and weaker. But more importantly, he felt anger that nothing changed. He never got better, he never got stronger, no matter how much time went by.
As he aged, and his illness got worse, Muzan accepted the fact that his anger, his hatred for everyone would never leave him.
That was, until he found you. His beautiful, wonderful child, the only thing that could quell the rage inside of him.
You weren't his biologically, no, but that didn't matter to him. Before he was too sick to leave his bed, Muzan found you orphaned living on the streets and took you in. Ever since, you've been repaying him by taking care of him.
"Father, it is time to take you medicine." There you were, right on time. Muzan refused to take his medicine from anyone else, even his most notable doctors.
He was too weak to sit up, simply moving his head to acknowledge you, watching as you sat down in front of him. Muzan didn't complain as you moved his head so the medicine could travel done his throat more smoothly.
Once done, you lay his head back down, putting the small bowl down next to you, blessing him with a kind smile. "How are you feeling today father?" You question.
"I'm doing fine now that you are here, my child." You giggle, the smile reaching your eyes. A small smile graces Muzan's face at your happy demeanor. Even if it is only for a second, Muzan is happy.
"Oh, I almost forgot." You gasp, "The doctor has new medicine for you, he wanted to give it to you himself."
Muzan let out a childlike groan, rolling over to face the balcony. It was beautiful outside, but Muzan couldn't help but feel annoyed. The sun was too bright, the wide was too strong, the birds were too loud. Even the thought of having to interact with his doctor for a second caused his blood to boil.
You roll your eyes at him, "Father, you have to take your medicine, the doctor knows better than me." He does move to face you, but you could tell he was annoyed.
"The doctors are incompetent." He moves back on his back; his brows cross in frustration. "They have been treating me for years, but here I remain, trapped in by bed." He laments.
You frown at his words, looking away from your father with sorrow. You remember a time when he was still healthy enough to spend time with you, your favorite days being when he would grow flowers with you, teaching you about their meanings and medical uses. But now, just standing was enough to strip him of all his strength.
You've been forced to watch as your father grows more resentful for the people around him, hating his doctors, maids, even gardeners for simply existing, being able to live the life he most desperately wanted. On days where his illness is at his worse, he mumbles about wanting to destroy them all, something you assumed was delirium caused by the medicine.
Even though your father has changed, you still love him, and you can't help but see him as the carefree, happy man he was when you were younger, even now. It's why you so desperately want him to get better, so that maybe you could go back to the way things once were.
"Father, I promise they just want to help." You try and talk some sense into him, though his resolve doesn't budge. You sigh, "it would make me really happy if you let the doctors give you the medicine." You put emphasis on the word really, in hopes it would motivate him. To your luck it did, Muzan moving to face you, sighing at your pleading face.
"Fine." Was all he said, feeling warmth bubble up in him as you smiled. You leaned down and hugged him the best you could.
"Thank you, father." Muzan smiles, happy once more.
---
You haven't visited you father in days, him forbidding you from entering his room a few days after he took the new medicine. You didn't mind though, it probably had some bad side effects, so you left him alone. Though, you couldn't help but question whenever he ordered for a worker to enter his room, especially when you swore, they never left.
Today was the final straw, you had to see your father. Workers had been disappearing left and right, and you knew your father was not going to be happy about it if you kept it from him.
As you get closer and closer to your father's room, a stench more disgusting than anything you've smelt before entered your nose and caused you to gag. You would've thrown up than and their if you didn't cover your mouth quickly.
The smell only got worse as you slowly crept towards the door, it nearly becoming unbearable. You swallowed down you fear as you knocked at the door. You could hear the faint sounds of crunching, like someone was chewing on something tough which made heartbeat against your ribs.
"F-father, are you in there." The chewing stopped and your heart sank. Your hands shook as you heard someone move towards the door. Slowly, the door opened, revealing your father covered in blood. He smiled down at you creepily, a stark contrast between the horror that covered your face.
Muzan moves to cup your cheek in his hand, blood smearing on your face. He could hear your fearful breathing coming from your nose as you inhale and exhale in rapid succession. He rubs your cheek, trying to calm you down as you look into his room, seeing the mangled-up bodies behind him. Your breathing became even more erratic at the sight, Muzan simply sighing with a frown.
"(Y/N), you don't understand-"
"You killed them, father." You whisper, backing away from him.
"I am much stronger now; I can protect you." You shake your head, tears streaming down your face. What was he talking about?
"You killed them." Your repeat you back hitting the wall. Muzan was directly in front of you, looking down intimidatingly. For the first time in your life, your father scared you.
"I had to, my child." He answers, his voice calm, but you could sense his annoyance. "It's the only way I can remain strong."
You don't say anything as he moves closer, hugging you into his chest as your world went dark.
---
It's been years since that day.
Your now older, more aware of the situation you're in. You father was now a demon, forced to consume humans in order to live. You realized quickly it was from the medicine the doctor gave him, and you curse him everyday for doing so.
He took your home from you, forcing you and your father out of your village. He took your life from you, forcing you to remain hidden with you father. Most importantly, he took your father from you, him now a husk of the man he once was.
Along with the myriad of strange side effects, your father couldn't go out in the day, the sun causing him immense pain, one of the only few things that could hurt him.
You learned to treasure the mornings, them being the few hours away from your father. While he was busy learning all he could about his aliment, you were trying to maintain the image of a normal human being. Working, socializing, anything you could do to forget about the atrocities your father committed when the sun set.
You wish things would go back to the way they were before.
"-N)? (Y/N)?" Oh, you were in the hospital, getting blood work done. You look over at the doctor in front of you, him attempting to get you attention.
You've been feeling terrible for the past few days, constant headaches, hot flashes, soreness. You could barely move without pain. You got blood work done, now waiting for the results with anticipation.
"I just wanted to ask you a question before giving you the news." His voice is solemn, not giving you a good feeling. "Does your family have any history of illness?"
You want to answer yes, but that would we wrong. You're not Muzan's child, so you shouldn't have inherited his illness. "No, my father was plagued with illness years ago, but he's...better now and I'm not his child biologically."
The doctor nodded, looking away dejectedly. When his eyes finally met yours, they were serious, "You've developed a rare blood disease." You heart sinks, but the doctor continues, "I suspect about a month or so is what you have left."
You could feel tears in your eyes, but surprisingly you didn't feel all that sad. Ever since you were young, you've accepted the fact that you would die, it's something you've learned from your times on the streets. The doctor continues talking, but you don't hear a word, to busy wondering how you're going to tell Muzan.
---
"Father, I'm home." No response, but you know he heard you.
On your way home, you accepted that you weren't going to tell Muzan. You knew if you would, he would try to turn you, and you couldn't accept that fate. To you, even death was a better fate than becoming a demon.
You slowly make you way up to your father's study, knocking on the door before entering. Like most days, your father is hunched over his desk, books and papers strewn about.
He doesn't acknowledge you when you enter, even when you move to stand beside him. You take a look at the scientific papers, not understanding a single thing about any of them. The only recognizable thing was the blue spider lily that for some reason was crucial to father.
"How was your appointment?" He doesn't look at you, flipping through pages of a book.
You sigh, shaking your head, "It was fine. Apparently, I was overreacting." You let out an awkward laugh. Muzan nods, before moving his attention back to his book.
It's like he was consumed by this flower, it was the only thing he cared about. You missed you father, even though it's been years since he's felt like one. In a way, you feel like death would be more welcoming than the life you have now, one that is consumed by fear for the man your supposed to feel safe around.
You left without telling you father, silently hoping you wouldn't see him in the morning.
---
Your hopes were not answered.
It's been week, but death does not come, all that greeted you was endless pain.
Your father found out when you collapsed one morning, and while he was mad you lied to him, he was livid when you refused to be turned into a demon. He's never yelled at you before, it surprised you when he screamed and threatened you, but you didn't change your mind.
In the end, your father was forced to watch you slowly succumb to your illness. You attempted to brighten his mood by framing the situation as repaying you. You took care of him, now he is doing the same. The only difference being you won't make it out in the end.
"Father, do you remember when I was little," You murmur to him; you voice raw and quiet. Your room was dark, blocking out any light so you could barely see your father looking at you. "You used to grow flowers with me." Your giggle sounds almost painful, but the smile on your face was one Muzan had nearly forgotten. "I'd get so sad when mine would die."
He doesn't speak, he can't, "Then you'd tell me not to cry, because death is normal for all living beings." Your voice is getting quieter as you speak, but he doesn't acknowledge it. "You were trying to comfort me about your death, I didn't know that at the time."
Muzan wants you to stop talking, he hates the pain in your voice. "I wish we could go back to the way things were before." You said, before finally going quiet. Muzan hears your breathing stop before letting out a sob.
---
It's been over a thousand years since your death and ever since then, Muzan has been filled with anger.
Anger for this imperfect world that took you away from. Anger at you for refusing the life he could've given you. Anger at himself for making your last few moments miserable.
He doesn't know who to blame for his misfortune, but he knows that if he lets anger consume him, he'll find someone to blame.
Muzan chooses to remember you when you were younger and at your happiest. When he's alone, his mind often wanders to these moments, when you were just a child, so small he was afraid anything would hurt you. He never let you out of his sight, wanting to protect you from the world.
Though in the end, he still lost you.
Since the day you died, Muzan was filled with rage. And he will continue to be until the day he sees you again.
He just wishes things would go back to the way they were before.
---
A/n: I don't even know if this counts as Yandere but whatever.
#yandere x reader#soft yandere#platonic yandere#demon slayer x reader#demon slayer#yandere demon slayer x reader#yandere demon slayer#kny muzan#kny x reader#platonic muzan x reader#muzan x reader
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Chest candy for Ghost and the 141! After many successful missions (and being the baddest bitches in general) the team is going to receive some medals. Ghost tries everything in his power to not have to attend the ceremony. Having to wear that stupid ceremonial uniform, all the attention and the fuzz around them - that sounds like hell to him. He's just doing his goddamn job after all.
A/N: I was very disappointed when I learned what a chest candy is, ngl. A literal version (like a crate filled with gummies and stuff) would be so much better. Anyway, on with the story.
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“You walk like you’re chafed down there, mate.”
Ghost stops and shoots a threatening look at Soap. And reasonably so—your poor lieutenant was trying his best. Price negotiated with him, and they reached an agreement for today’s dress code—he would put on the fancy uniform but keep the balaclava on.
The captain decided this was a fair exchange—persuading Ghost to wear anything other than camo deserved a chest candy of its own. Not only that, but many people will attend today’s ceremony; even worse, the press will also be there. There was no way he would get rid of his “comfort blanket.”
But, even a day without his camo, standing in front of strangers and being photographed, is a century for the lieutenant.
You, Soap and Ghost are preparing for the event in the town hall’s bathroom. Ghost struggles to walk in his new shoes, so you figured some practice might help. You made him walk across the bathroom stalls, which was an unfortunate location since Soap was already in one of the toilets and popped out, offering a “helping” hand.
But it’s not just the shoes that hinder his ability to act normal. He seems to struggle with something deeper within himself. He constantly fidgets, readjusts his blazer, pulls at his collar, and avoids direct eye contact. His gaze constantly darts between you, the sink, the floor, and back to you again.
Except for now.
He’s staring at Soap like a feral animal, ready to leap on its prey. And you get it. You do. Given what he’s used to, this situation should be tough and quite uncomfortable.
He slowly shifts away from Soap and towards you.
“What do you think?” he asks.
“Tell him,” Soap taunts you with his arms crossed, “tell him how he looks.”
“Why are you still in here?” You snap at him.
“I’m sorry!” Soap shouts and throws his hand up, “Have you guys booked the toilets for a private viewing?”
You close your eyes and rub your forehead. This better not escalate.
“Can you please leave us alone for a mom—”
“How about forever?” Ghost snaps.
“Fine”, Soap says and heads for the exit. “Just don’t let him pull another runaway bride on us again, okay?”
You wave for him to exit the bathroom. Soap does as he’s told, and you lean against one of the stalls. You examine the lieutenant from head to toe, but he’s too busy patting and pulling at the blazer to notice you. He grabs his tie and tugs at it.
“Don��t loosen the tie.” You command, “It’s supposed to be snug.”
“Who the fuck decided that wearing a noose around your neck is a good idea?” He says and starts tugging at his collar.
“And stop doing that to your collar—you’ll rip a button off.”
“It’s too tight.”
You approach him, place your index finger inside his collar, and trace the circumference.
“Ghost, it’s not that tight.”
“It sure feels like it.” He replies.
You sigh and slap your arms against your thighs. How will you make him understand what he’s feeling right now? He has to turn his attention inwards and observe his body. Acknowledge it. That’s the only way he’d be able to befriend his current state.
“Is the collar and tie the issue here, or is it your throat?” You ask.
He clasps his neck and looks at you, puzzled. “I don’t understand,” he says.
“Your throat,” you explain, “does it feel tight? Is there a lump when you swallow?”
He throws his head back and closes his eyes. He’s trying to become acquainted with his senses. He takes a deep breath and swallows hard.
“Affirmative,” he states, “a lump is indeed present.”
“It sucks, doesn’t it?”
He opens his eyes wide and nods slowly. “Sure does,” he murmurs.
“It feels like when we’re at the beginning of a mission, right?”
“Just like it.” He nods, “especially when we’re unsure of what we might come across.”
“How about,” you say as you straighten his tie, “We approach this event in the exact same way?”
“How?”
“What are the objectives here?” You ask.
“Get that fucking chest candy, and get the fuck out of here.”
“And what should we do to accomplish that?”
“Get up on the stage, shake some dickhead’s hand, and walk away.” He replies.
“How long would you recon that’ll take?”
He tilts his head. “About three minutes max.”
“That’s not too bad!” You shout and pat his chest, “Plus, I doubt the people awarding us want to be here either.”
He huffs. “You think so?”
“Of course! It’s just as inconvenient for them as it is for us.”
“Then why are we all doing this?” he wonders and throws his hands up, “Why pretend?”
“Because,” you reply, “sometimes in life, you must pretend; pretend to be strong, courageous, pretend to know what you’re doing even though you have no clue….”
“Fake it till you make it?” He asks.
You smile. “Yeah, Lt., fake it till you make it.”
He shakes his hands and kicks his feet. He straightens his suit and posture, then looks at the bathroom window.
“This won’t fit me this time, so we might as well get done with it as soon as possible,” he says and turns to you, “on me, soldier.”
“Sir, yes, sir.” You salute him.
You walk towards the entrance where the ceremony is taking place. Many people are in the room, but you always stay within his proximity to make him feel safe. Sometimes you direct him on what to do—shake this person’s hand, relax the shoulders, pose, stand over here.
He leans towards you while waving at another soldier.
“Do I walk like I’m sore?” He murmurs.
You smile at a photographer and lean towards Ghost.
“No,” you whisper, “why?”
“Soap said so.”
Fucking Soap. He was right; these shoes make him walk like a duck, but you can’t admit it, especially now. He’ll flee.
“Yeah, well,” you reply, “Soap also walks around with a mohawk on his head.”
“Ridiculous,” he says and laughs, “and here I am, wearing a full suit, right?”
You raise your head and look at his black-painted eyes and skull balaclava. He can’t be that delusional regarding what’s ridiculous and what isn’t. But if it helps him right now, so be it.
“Damn right, Lt.,” you say as you nudge his side, “You’re doing amazing, sweetie.”
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#simon ghost riley x reader#simon ghost riley x you#simon ghost riley x y/n#simon ghost riley#simon ghost riley fic#simon ghost riley fanfiction#simon riley x y/n#simon riley x reader#simon riley x you#simon riley#call of duty#modern warfare 2#cod mwii#ghost cod#cod ghost#ghost call of duty#ghost cod mw2#ghost cod mwii#ghost mw2#simon ghost x reader
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Dirty Work 4
Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as bullying, familial discord/abuse, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.
This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.
Summary: You start a new gig and find one of your clients to be hard to please.
Characters: Loki
Note: Itcha gurl, back at it again.
As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.
Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)
I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖
The doctor checks the chart then glances at the machine with your father’s vitals. Today, you’re father’s awake. He has been for a few days but today he’s alert. You know because he told you the jello was disgusting. Those are the first and only words he’s said to you in more than two weeks.
“You’re very lucky to have a daughter who knows what she’s doing,” Dr. Shearer remarks.
Your father grumbles, scowling as he doesn’t offer much else to the doctor.
“You must be happy to have her around,” Shearer continues, “it is time to start considering your discharge. You’re stable, breathing on your own again, your heartbeat is within a normal range.” You watch your father as he stares past the doctor. It’s as if he refuses to acknowledge that this is real. “You’ll have a few new meds to add to your day but with normal check-ups I think we can be optimistic.”
A grunt. You fold your hands and stand up, “thank you, doctor. Erm, could someone explain the new medicines to me?”
“Yes, of course. That’ll be in the discharge paperwork but I’ll have a Nurse Practitioner come to discuss with both of you,” he assures, “and some resources on quitting. The cigarettes can’t continue.”
“I’ll smoke if I goddamn want,” your dad snarls, breaking his shield of indifference.
The doctor gives him a sharp look but doesn’t argue, “I’m only here to diagnose and give me treatment suggestions. But you keep smoking, sir, and next time, you won’t make it to the hospital.”
“Good,” your dad sneers defiantly.
The doctor nods and his mouth seals grimly. He turns back to you, “let us know if you need anything else. We have some support groups and resources, I’ll make sure that info is also sent off with you.”
“Thanks so much, Doctor,” you squeeze your hands tighter. You want to apologise for your father but you know he’ll only get worse if you do.
“It’s alright,” Shearer says as if reading your mind, “these things are stressful. For everyone. Couple more days and he’ll be free to go.”
You try to smile but your cheeks can only tremble. The doctor leaves you with your father and you peek over at him. He grimaces at the ceiling.
“That’s good news, dad,” you say as you near the foot of his bed.
“Is it? You shoulda left me to die,” he barks.
You flinch, not once, twice. A chirp in your pocket further jars you as it shrilly erupts in the buzzing silence. You reach into the pocket of your hoodie and clutch your flip phone as it bings even louder. The little digital display shows the agency’s number.
“Sorry,” you apologise and flip it open, turning away to scurry out and answer, “hello?”
You hold your breath. Why are they calling? You didn’t have a job today and you only really get emails regarding clients. It must be very serious.
“It’s Clara,” your boss begins in her terse way. “Have you seen my email?”
She sighs, “you should be checking daily. Got a job today. You want it?”
You blink. This is the first time you’ve been asked to come in for an extra shift. You could use the money desperately. When your dad is discharged, he’ll be sent off with another invoice.
“Yes,” you accept without hesitation, “I’ll take it.”
“Great. Check your email. Details are there,” she sniffs.
“Alright, tha-nks,” your voice cracks as she hangs up in the middle of your last word. She must be busy, surely more busy than you, the lowest rung on the ladder she has to keep from falling over.
You close the phone and put it back in your pocket. You shuffle back into the room and find your father with his eyes closed. The machine continues to beep in time with his pulse.
“I gotta work,” you say, “that was my boss–”
“Then leave me alone,” he snaps without opening his eyes, “can’t you see I’m tryna sleep?”
“Sorry, I–”
“Go and don’t come back,” he growls, “I don’t need you crowding this shit hole.”
“Um, dad, I–”
He coughs and hacks and waves you off, swallowing thickly, “I said go.”
You dip your head down. You can’t imagine being in his position. Stuck in a hospital bed on the other side of near-death. You might not be very nice yourself.
“Alright, I’ll see you tomorrow?”
“I don’t care,” he turns his head and wiggles his shoulders as he tries to get comfortable.
You swallow down the hurt. You didn’t expect him to thank you for what you did. Not for anything. That’s just what you do for someone you love. Yet, you hoped he might have woken up a little bit nicer than before.
“Love you, Dad,” you murmur.
He grumbles. That’s all you get. You suck in a breath and hold it in, trying to keep from crumbling long enough to get out of that room.
🧹
At first, you’re not certain the information in the email is correct. You’re to return to Mr. Laufeyson’s house for the second time that week, but it’s a Friday night. In your days at the hospital, the calendar lines skewed between the alarms you kept in your phone for sanity. The return to reality is just as disjointing as the descent away from it.
You go home and change into your typical cleaning attire. All black. Plain. Clothes meant for getting dirty. Not that any of your wardrobe is particularly spectacular.
You grab your kit and your water bottle and rush out to catch the bus. You’re not used to being on transit near-dark. The prospect of getting home comes to mind as you cling to a pole amidst the crowded vehicle. It makes you nervous but you’re certain it will be okay. Mr. Laufeyson lives in a nice neighbourhood.
You get off the bus and bring your phone out. As you approach the house, it is lively with bodies milling in and out. You let yourself through the gate and peer over at the two cube vans near the front entrance. A white jacket, pristine uniforms, you can only assume they are some sort of catering company. The type you’ve seen on TV in those reality shows with women drinking wine.
You watch them for a moment. They are orderly and determined. What’s more, they work together in perfect harmony, words passing quietly and easily, trays moving smoothly between hands and set onto carts. It’s a shining contrast to your dim and lonely work.
You make yourself turn away and continue around the back of the house. You stop short of the rear corner and a gasp bubbles up. You watch a hummingbird buzzing over the bed of flowers. It’s so small and green and cute. You wince as it flits up towards the window, your cheeks bulbing to the smile as your gaze follows it.
In a moment, it wings away, shyly retreating from your admiration. Your eyes fall to the window as you sense a shift on the other side. Just between the edges of the half-drawn drapes you meet a pair of green eyes over a long and cynical nose. Your smile dissolves as you recognise Mr. Laufeyson and his stony observation. You touch your fingertips to your mouth in self-reproach and tuck your chin down, turning back onto the path.
You go to the back door but it’s already unlocked. You let the handle go and linger outside. You noticed the email is shorter than usual. This isn’t your typical rote with Mr. Laufeyson.
‘Cleaner to be at standby for guests and cook…’
You glance down the paragraph. You’re to stay until after the ‘event’ so that you may tidy up. Your curiosity sparks but quickly fizzles. It’s best not to be too concerned. Just focus on what you need to do.
You let yourself in but forego the shoe covers and gloves as specified in the email. You hang your hoodie in the closet along with your kit. As you hook the strap of your water bottle over your head, a glimmer passes down the end of the hall and the lighting shifts. You look up as Mr. Laufeyson approaches.
He always dresses finely but he looks particularly put together. His hair is tidy and neat and he wears a velvet jacket in a deep shade of violet over a black collared shirt and matching trousers. His tie is narrow and blends into the fabric of his shirt. He keeps his hands behind him as he holds his chin up.
“I trust you understand your assignment,” he prompts as he stops a foot away, cornering you in the back hallway.
You nod. He tilts his head but his veneer does not break.
“Not that,” he points to the water bottle, “you may ask one of the cook’s assistants for a glass should you require it, but be rid of that ugly thing.”
“Oh–” you gulp back your voice and bow your head again.
You untangle the trap from your torso and open the closet, tucking it away with your sweater and bag. You shut the door and find him closer than before, his hand on the door frame as he looms over you. His other wanders down the trim of his jacket.
“You are to keep yourself unseen. You tend to messes and that’s it. The rules remain. Are we understood?” He asks.
You look at him and nod. He sighs and stands straight, a deep breath rising in his chest.
“You may answer aloud so I know we are clear,” he says.
“I understand, Mr. Laufeyson,” you eke out.
“Mmm,” his gaze lingers on you in unreadable consideration. Dressed in plain cotton, you feel wholly insignificant before him. “Go on, you will keep your vigil in the kitchen. They would require most of your assistance.” He backs away and buttons the front of his jacket, “you will not disturb my guests. Not a look, not a word.”
You know your turn to talk is over. You merely nod and he seems pleased by your deference. Not openly, he shows a hint of a smile nor does he praise you. But he is not unhappy and you know that is a feat.
🧹
The cook’s name is Corissa. She has spiraled red hair and pretty gold-green eyes. As you enter, she introduces herself and asks your name.
“I’m just here to clean,” you explain. “So if you need me–”
“Oh, hon, no need ta be shy,” she says in her wolfish voice, “we’re all in this togetha.”
You smile and stand against the wall, waiting to be told what to do next. She gives you a lingering glance but doesn’t comment. You see a question woven in her brow. She begins her work, directing her assistants at saucepan and cutting board alike, all while falling into a raucous rapport.
“Theo say ‘ma, did ya have ta tell that story?’” She cackles midway through a tale you lost track of, her hands moving expertly at her work, “and I say, ‘the gal deserves ta know, ‘specially if ya mean to burden her’.”
You bite into your lower lip. It’s like there’s an invisible wall in front of you. It’s been there your whole life. That one that separates you from others. You’re always on the outside watching. Just like in the schoolyard when the girls wouldn’t let you play with them. Or when your dad has his buddies over and told you to ‘piss off to your room’.
The first course is served on sleek black trays. As you watch the servers carry them out, Corissa calls your name. She makes you lurch in surprise as you’d be convinced you blend right into the plaster.
“Come have a taste,” she insists, “this one’s a bit mussed up.”
“Um, er, it’s okay, I’m not hungry–”
“Bah, come on, have some. I hate ta toss it in the bin.”
You don’t want to argue. That would be rude. So you come forward and accept the crumbly pastry with an ugly tear in the top, the filling bulging out.
“Lobster croquette,” she explains, “you’re not allergic, are ya?”
You shake your head and thank her as you back up to the wall again. You cup your hand under the misshapen ball as you bite into it. You could hum at the taste. It’s delicious and rich and savoury. You’ve never had anything like it. You’ve never even tasted lobster before.
“You like it?” She asks as you swallow your mouthful. You nod. “Quiet one, you.” She points at you.
You don’t answer. What can you say? You are quiet. You finish the croquette and go to dust the crumbs off your hand over the bin. You slide your foot off the pedal and let the lid drop. You take the cloth from your waistband and near the counter, going to work at tidying up the remnants of her work.
“Eh, look at you, busy little bee,” she chuckles, “I was gettin’ ta tha.”
“My job,” you insist.
“Maid,” a snap of the fingers draws your head up as Corissa sprinkles seasoning into a new pan.
Mr. Laufeyson offers only a curled finger. Your eyes round and cross to him, tucking the cloth into your pants again. He’s already striding away as you get to the door. You trail him, uncertain at what he needs.
He leads you to the dining room, the garble of voices and clinking of glasses preceding your arrival. He enters ahead of you and claims the seat at the head of the table. The serves pass you with empty trays and you gape around in confusion.
“Oh my, look at me,” a woman giggles as she uses a cloth napkin to pat along her collarbone. Thin straps cling to her delicate shoulders as her skin glistens beneath the golden chain strung around her throat, “making a scene already.”
You see the wine glass on its side and hear the contents dripping onto the floor. You put your head down and hurry over. The dinner guests laugh and are quickly onto their next topic, about some coast they plan to vacation at once the summer comes. You try not to eavesdrop as you sop up the puddle of wine on the table and get down to wipe clean the floor.
As you do, you feel a tickle on the back of your neck. You don’t let it stop you. It must be an accident. You’re so cramped between the woman’s seat and the next that you must be in the way. The fingertips remain and brush more firmly as you hear a low, gritty exhale.
You ball up the damped cloth and stand, daring a glance at the man as he draws his hand back into his lap. His broad shoulders make the back of the tall chair seem small and his blonde hair is twisted into a low tight bun. He guffaws loudly at the table, seemingly unfazed by his own wandering touch. It must’ve been an accident.
You back up and peer towards the head of the table. Laufeyson’s eyes are slits as he stares in your direction. Surely, he’s not watching you. You’re supposed to be unseen. Get out of there.
You retreat quickly, the din thundering louder and louder at your back, rumbling behind you into the hall. You wring the cloth, now stained and stinking of wine. You hope you didn’t upset Mr. Laufeyson, you only did as you were told.
#loki#dark loki#dark!loki#loki x reader#fic#dark fic#dark!fic#series#dirty work#maid au#au#mcu#marvel#thor#avengers
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Clone^2 Damian
If you really think about, Damian's situation in the clone^2 au is... kinda tragic? Especially in the early months of his arrival. Like,,, think about it. Damian has always known he was a clone of Damian Wayne, that he was a copy of the blood son. There was nothing 'original' about him, not even his name (of which at least Danny has that). He was just... a replacement. A disposable one, to boot.
And he knew that, to an extent, by the time he was six years old. he might not have been actively acknowledging it -- he's six years old -- but deep down he knew. And like, he's six years old. Every small child craves the love and affection of an adult, especially their parents, and even though he knew he was clone, I imagine he still considered - and still does consider, somewhat - Talia and Bruce as his mother and father. And I really doubt he was... getting it?
Now, I know Talia loves Damian, her son. At least in some interpretations she does, and in this au she does. But... a clone of her son? I'm not so certain if she would have the same affection for baby Dames as she would for Damian. I don't think she would treat him badly, but I don't think Talia would treat him warmly either. Kinda just, distant. Colder than she would have been with OG Damian.
And, I know I've mentioned Damian's arrival from Danny's point of view, and its kind of comical kind of insane from his perspective -- a little boy clone of Damian Wayne falls through a portal and immediately attacks him. That sounds like a bad joke.
But, if you think of this from Damian's point of view? It's like he just got dropped into a scary movie. Like, think about it. You're six years old, and suddenly a portal, as green and as swirling as your grandfather's pools, opens up beneath your feet and sucks you through.
After an intense bout of vertigo, you end up in a massive, urban city -- completely different from the rural mountain palace that you lived in for the last six years of your life, and in this city, you don't know any of the language. You don't know what anyone is saying, you can't read any of the signs - you are completely stranded, away from home.
And then, to make things worse, you're facing a figure with a terrifying mask and eyes as burning green as the portal you fell through. Of course Damian's first instinct, six years old, is to attack. He's terrified.
And this figure, he's not a good fighter, but he's fast, and he dodges you quickly. He grabs your sword with his hands, and tries to restrain you, saying something in a language you don't know. Naturally, Damian is just scared. He's six! He'd just be learning how to read if he was normal child going to school.
This figure halfway through the fight yanks off his mask -- he realizes you're scared -- and looking at you now, is a youthful version of your father. This is a clone of your dad, someone you have never met but, six years old, still wants to. Damian gets defensive. This is an imposter.
But this imposter eventually gets you home with him - and he's using his little box, his phone, to communicate with you through a mechanical voice speaking in arabic. and it's frustrating. The boy, the imposter, can say whatever to you just fine, but trying to talk back is a hassle and a half. He's six, he doesn't have that much patience.
He wants to go home.
And so he keeps trying to run away. He keeps trying to find out of this hellish concrete jungle, and he keeps getting lost. It's loud, and busy, and there are people talking to you and you don't understand them, and there are rules and signs you don't understand - Damian tries to cross the street and nearly gets hit by a car. He doesn't know how the road signs work, he was never taught. They didn't get to that.
And he gets lost. And it gets dark, and Damian is brave, but he is six, and this is the worst stress he's been under in all his six years of life. He wants, desperately more than anything, to go home. Why wouldn't he? The only stable... semi-stable environment he was in just got ripped out from under his feet, literally! He wants his mother.
And it's not happening.
But there's something good to be said, at least. The imposter that looks like his father always comes and finds him, no matter what. He could have left that morning, and he will find Damian at midnight, frazzled and worried, and carrying an extra jacket with him because it is cold in Amity Park and Damian is six years old.
And sometimes Damian attacks him - he's scared and stressed and he doesn't want to be here. And every time he catches the sword. Even though Damian can see it cut into his hand and pearls of blood well up and stains his fingers. Even though Damian can see him wince in pain and bite his lip, he still catches it.
But with that little box, he coaxes Damian to come back with him. It's cold, it's dark, Amity Park is unsafe at night. They can figure something out tomorrow, please. And every time, he agrees, reluctantly. And the imposter takes the extra jacket he brought with -- a flannel, a hoodie, a jacket -- and he wraps it around him. It's warm, Damian's clothes are not that thick, and even though he thinks he might hate this imposter, he still sticks close to his legs as he leads him down the street.
And sometimes the imposter carries him, because Damian's shoes are not that thick, and he cuts his foot on broken glass while they're walking home. The imposter sits in the bathroom with him and carefully cleans the cut out, and makes sure it doesn't get infected.
There's hope you know, he still has it. His mother will be looking for him. She'll be worried. He's important to them. Damian may not be the original, but he is still a blood son. He is still her son. She will come find him. This nightmare will end soon. He can go home.
And then weeks pass, and nothing. Then months, and nothing. His family is not coming for him, and it hurts. Hurts more than anything. And yet while that happens, the boy he's attacked, and hurt, teaches himself arabic in order to speak to him. He takes Damian out of the house one afternoon and buys him new clothes, or tries to. And then he keeps buying him new clothes. He gives him blankets and gives up his bed to him until they can get him one himself, and steadily he teaches Damian english.
This boy is kind. Kinder than Damian's ever experienced, and he doesn't know what to do with it. He's devastated by the fact that he is not as important to his family as his family is to him. What do you do when you're six years old and you learn something like that? When a random stranger who looks like your father is kinder to you, and cares more about you than your family did?
And then Damian tells him he's a clone. He's Damian Wayne's clone, and he tells him his purpose - that their grandfather made him to kill him. And the boy, the imposter, Damian thinks he probably already knows that he's a clone. But he doesn't say that. He just nods, and asks him if he wants to tell his original about him.
Damian says no. He doesn't want to. He's tired of living in the shadow of his original. He wants to keep this to himself. This is his. For once, all of this is his.
And to his surprise, the imposter doesn't try and convince him otherwise. He just nods, and says okay. And when Damian asks why, the imposter - his brother - looks at him and says.
"I don't care about Damian Wayne. I care about you." And in Damian's gobsmacked silence, his brother continues. He tells him that if Damian doesn't want to tell his original that he exists, then they don't need to. They don't need to worry about the LoA going after him, because clearly if his 'grandfather' needs to make a clone of Damian in order to take him out, then whatever it was that Damian Wayne was doing to keep himself safe, was working.
"Wayne already has people in his corner, he's got Gotham's army of vigilantes to keep himself safe." his brother says with his eyes as blue as moonlight. "You, however. Do not." And he continues, and says that if Damian Wayne has the same training as Damian does, then he will be fine. He doesn't need to be aware of his clone. Because if DW doesn't know about Damian, then the LoA doesn't either.
And here's the thing. Damian would not have survived in the LoA for long. Not as a clone. No matter what, he was going to die no matter what he did, and sooner rather than later. The sword of Damocles was always hanging above his head in the League of Assassins.
That portal, and meeting Danny, saved his life. There's no way around it. And to an extent Damian knows this even at six years old. He may not be aware that he would've died, but he knows that meeting Danny was the best thing to happen to him.
It's no wonder after that, that Damian is as clingy to Danny as he is. Danny is the first person he's met to offer him unconditional love, with no strings attached, only pure affection.
#dpxdc#dp x dc#dp x dc crossover#dpdc#dpxdc crossover#clone^2#like god can you imagine how scared he must've been? how afraid? he just wants his mom - only to realize he doesnt even matter to her#dpxdc au#danny fenton is not the ghost king#this poor kid man. no wonder he latched onto danny the moment he gave up on the league like a leech. he's a six year old kid man and#it doesnt matter how smart he is or how mature he acts. he still is six years old. he still needs that validation and affection from adults#or from people older than him. and his emotional needs were just not being met in the league.#cue the song “two” from sleeping at last - some of their songs are very clone^2 honestly.#'sweetheart you look a little tired. when did you last eat? come in and make yourself right at home. stay as long as you need.'#'tell me is something wrong? if something's wrong you can count on me'#'its okay if you can't find the words. let me take your coat and this weight off of your shoulders'#'like a force to be reckoned with. am i the ocean or a gentle kiss. i will love you with every single thing i have'#'like a tidal wave i'll make a mess. or calm waters if that serves you best'#'i will love you without any strings attached'#like just. just *imagine* being in damian's shoes during all of this. he's *six* you guys. i've worked with six year olds and they're#pretty independent but they're still six. they get excited when they see their parents and they get upset when an adult is angry with them.#they're still developing their motor skills. they're still developing everything else!
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There Was Only One Bed
"We tend to get into these situations a lot, now, don't we? Shouldn't the hotel managers have known better at this point?"
Kaldo Gehenna Ver. Here
You and Orter had some sort of curse that had kept you working together for over two years now. Always, without fail, he would end up needing your help - last time it had been a flying mantacor, this time it was a violent unicorn who someone was keeping illegally in their home.
He can stop a violent beast from killing civilians but he couldn't stop property damage appearntly. That was too much work for him, it was just a 'clean up job' for a big and important guy like him. After all, he's the Desert Cane. That job was for the poor.
And for you.
You ran and kicked the back, watching him fold like a chair. He barely gave a shout, he merely stumbled and fell, his palms and knees scrapping against the cobblestone against your feet.
A laugh escaped you. Small revenge for that comment earlier.
”I'm about ready for a nap, I don't know about you.“
You stood over him, watching him search for his glasses. He was practically blind, his hand waving in the air as he searched for his lenses.
He looked pitiful, if only he hadn't said such a rude thing about your job earlier. But you gave him pity anyway, handing him his glasses back and watching as his eyes reappeared, giving you the meanest glare he ever had.
”What are you, an animal?“
He said this as he was still sitting on the ground, truly proper behavior from a stuck up who cared about the rules.
”No. But it's funny and you deserved it.“
You smiled, your face splitting apart in a shit eating grin.
“I don't think people deserve to be kicked.”
“They do when they insult others. You should try it sometime.”
Standing up, you offered your hand. Surprisingly he accepted it, pulling your down if only a little on purpose.
His grip was strong. It felt like he was trying to squeeze your bones out of your hand, and as if he were trying to pull you down with him. Payback.
"Let's go. I booked us rooms so we don't have to travel all night."
He stalked forward, walking ahead of you. There was a rush to catch up, your smaller steps having to leap in order to match up with his strides. He didn't acknowledge it, just nodding and continuing his pace.
What an asshole.
"How far is the inn?"
"Close. I'm not telling you."
Orter kept walking, his eyes focused on the path ahead of you.
"What? Why."
He scoffed, reaching around to flick your forehead. You dodged the onslaught, swatting his hand away.
"You would just kick me and try to get there first. Seriously, you don't have any respect for social decency."
Huffing, you tried to kick him again - your foot only made it halfway there until it was encased in a prison of sand.
Orter looked back at you, adjusting his glasses as his yellow eyes focused on your form. You could swear he was smirking, but it was wiped away in a second - maybe it was the glare you were sending him, who knew.
"Maybe you really are just an animal."
"Or maybe you're just an asshole!"
Stupidly, you pulled out your wand in hopes to cast a small spell at him. It was pointless, seeing as he had you disarmed with his stupid sand.
"You know we're in public, right? This just looks bad on your part."
Orter scoffed, letting you languish in his pile of inescapable sand if only for a little while longer. He reached over, gently hitting his knuckles against your head as he tried to physically knock some sense into you.
"Ow! What the hell!"
"I'm doing you a favor."
He gave a couple more knocks, as if it would make sure that you had some sense knocked into your head. You groaned, rolling your eyes as you felt his knuckles travel across your face, from your brow down to your cheekbones.
"What are you doing?"
You felt your face flush as his eyes traced your figure, golden eyes analyzing your form - it made you feel naked, and you could only escape by averting your gaze. His small huff of amusement made the feeling worse, your cheeks warming underneath his touch.
"Checking to see if you really have a brain underneath that skull. Seems like it's there, but I'm not sure."
There was no chance to retort as he dropped you roughly on the ground, leaving you to sputter and choke on offensive insults while he walked away, heading towards the hotel.
What an asshole.
-
This was a nightmare.
"Just take the bed, I'm not planning on sleeping anyway."
Orter looked at you with a straight face as he said this, pulling out a novel the hotel provided and tucking himself in a corner, as if that would be comfortable enough to be there for eight hours.
"Absolutely not. We can share, can't we?"
The bed was big enough for the two of you - maybe if you squeezed in, but you both paid for it, and it would be impossible to sleep knowing that there would be a man in the corner killing his neck while you laid down comfortably all night.
"I'm the man here. It's only proper that I allow the lady to take the bed."
"Excuse me? Are you really pulling that card right now?"
You took one of the pillows off of the bed, throwing it at the man. He seemed unphased, used to your outbursts.
What the hell was that about? Was he really going to treat you differently just because you were a girl?
"It's just the rules. I don't make them."
"Doesn't mean you have to follow them, ass!"
You slapped another pillow at his face. There was a struggle as he caught it, pushing you towards the bed and trying to subdue you - it had already turned late into the night, and your shouting was most likely disturbing the other guests.
It didn't matter to you. Orter deserved to be embarrassed.
Flipped him over, you tried to shove the plush cotton pillow over his face, struggling against his force. You felt him shift underneath you, his arms blocking your assault and preventing you from playfully suffocating him.
Your defense had been weak, perhaps too playful against your opponent. It was swiftly that he had worked to subdue you, his palm pressing against your shoulder while his knees worked against you, pinning you down against the soft bed.
The pillow was forgotten, with Orter merely staring down at you with his wasp-like eyes.
"This is rather improper of you-"
Growling, you threw your hand up, not really aiming for anything. It was with a shock that you felt your palm connect with his nose, and his weight fall against you as he took the hit on his face.
It was a moment later that blood began to drip down, making you cringe at the moment.
"Oh gods, I'm sorry."
Orter sat up, his hand attempting to cover the blood that began to drip from his nose. It was futile as it fell onto your shirt - the feeling was unpleasant, but you ignored it in favor of overwhelming guilt.
"Here. Um..."
There was nothing to aid him, besides your already soiled shirt. You handed the fabric to him, taking his bloody hands away from his face and trying to stop the bleeding that you caused.
He glanced at you, batting his dark eyelashes as he tilted his head down and ruined your shirt further. The fabric pulled against your ribcage as you both held it in place - at this point, it would be easier to take it off and hand it to him.
"fhanks."
"Thank you. For ruining my shirt."
"Is' nod my fauld' thad you hid' me." Orter's words were muffled by the shirt, and it was with a horrible ruttering sound, like an old rusty engine, that he tried to breathe in through his clouded and bloody nostrils.
Still ruining your shirt.
"You deserved it!" You deflected like it was breathing, "You're an asshole, manhandling me like that."
Drawing the fabric over your head, you shoved it in his face the best you could, still feeling his weight pinning you down at your hips. You would kick him if you could, but clearly, he had planned for this, not having moved from his position on top of you.
It took a moment to sink in the mistake you made, making eye contact with the man as he stared at you - making great effort to stay on your face and not look anywhere else.
He got off of you quickly, looking to the side and avoiding looking at you as if you had the plague. For once, you didn't shove his face for his perceived misdeed, instead taking the opportunity to cover your chest with the forgotten pillow, staring as Orter sat on the farthest edge of the bed, his warmth now sorely missed.
It had now gotten colder as it moved on in the night, no thanks to also having lost a shirt. There was nothing to say about that, as you would have to get up in order to get your day clothes - exposing yourself further to the man.
"Don't look at me." There was a crack in your voice as you said this, but you hoped that he would have been too distracted to really care about your state.
He glanced at you. The usual dull look on his face was painted red, his eyes wide as he turned away again, finding the floor much more interesting.
For once, he was speechless. No annoying taunts or a lecture about society - it was as if seeing your chest made him silent for once in his life.
Silently, he got up, his eyes still trailed downward. It was an awkward few minutes as you debated between getting up while shirtless and he struggled with forcing his bloody nose away with a pure force of will.
Despite being a double-liner, the man hadn't learned any spells to dispel such a pesty and annoying problem. How unfortunate.
It wasn't until a shirt was thrust into you direction were you broken out of your thoughts.
"Here. Sorry, just," Orter placed the shirt on your lap, turning to look back at the wall again as fast as he could "Take mine."
There was a long moment of silence.
It was a nice gesture. And you did feel bare, even underneath the pillow.
But this was Orter's shirt.
"Thanks. Um...we should go to sleep now."
You threw it on, trying your hardest to not focus on anything as you tried your best to straighten the fabric around you best you could. The shoulders were too large for your frame, making the buttoned collar fall too low on your skin.
It was better than nothing. At least you weren't forced to wear your dirtied shirt, which you assumed was somewhere off on the floor at the moment.
Silently, you forced yourself to lay down, going through the motions as you pushed the pillow underneath your head.
There was no body lying next to you. Instead, there was light breathing just below - it seemed like the asshole was still stubborn.
"Orter. I said we can share."
"I'd rather not. It's improper."
"I am literally wearing your shirt, what could possibly be more improper?"
"Sharing a bed."
You groaned, frustrated.
"Shut up, virgin."
That got the man up, unlike any other insult you had said. He crawled up onto the bed silently, his form dropping itself with a huff down onto the soft mattress.
"You are insufferable."
"Now that is improper."
The lights in the room went off, and you felt a light smack against your face.
"You should sleep."
"I am, Orter."
"Right."
His hand went up, feeling your face, as if to physically check for signs of your rest. His fingers trailed up and down your skin, tracing your nose and cheeks gently in the dark.
You could feel his thumb caressing your lips, as if you weren't still awake.
What a strange, strange man.
Anon asked for either or but I thought I could make it funny with Orter since he seems like such a rule guy. The vision is here. No confession and reader is kinda a tsundere cause idk...the vibes match.
Hope y'all enjoyed it. This is for my Valentine's event, it's still open and has slots open. go. ask away. do what you please.
#mashle x reader#orter madl x reader#orter madl#theres like no tags....#anyway did this take forever to write? yea#sowwy....#judas valentines event
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Sad QSMP headcannons that have like half a toenail in canon.
The French version:
Baghera cries very silently, like someone who is used to having to keep quiet.
She also has a very high pain tolerance and she didn't understand why until recently.
When Pomme disappeared Baghera was terrified that the Federation had something to do with that, terrified that her little girl would be at the hands of the people who made her and hurt her so badly.
As much as she wants to hate the Federation for having hurt her, at the same time she can't and that makes everything so much worse.
Baghera doesn't have wings. But she does have two scars on her back where no feathers have ever grown.
Antoine was not prepared to actually get attached to any of the French, or even to Pomme. He knows he is in too deep, has too much to lose if he cuts ties with the Federation, and yet it twists something inside of him when he thinks about their possible reactions, especially Etoiles. For the first time in a very long existence he understands what friendship is, knows what it feels like instead of just watching others experience it, and is very aware that he will lose it all.
That is why Antoine was so pissed off at Osito for being careless with the picture, the earlier they discover about his true past, the earlier he will lose them.
If the Federation truly had Pomme he would have burned it all down himself just to bring her back.
The first time Cucurucho saw Antoine angry was after the torture session nearly killed Pierre for good. No one knows who was more shocked by his display, Cucurucho or Antoine himself.
Pierre continues to trouble sleeping and constant nightmares when he does, he can't remember the last time he managed to truly rest without waking up in a cold sweat or screaming, he is always on the verge of passing out and even when he does crash he still has nightmares.
He refuses to acknowledge it or even talk about it, hides his exhaustion with everything he has, pushes people away just to make sure they wouldn't realize there is something wrong, too afraid they will see a weakness to be exploited.
Pierre hates being alone as much as he craves it- He likes being by himself working on his machines and keeping his secrets close to his chest, but at the same time when he is alone is when the dark thoughts take over
He will, on occasion, not exactly seek to get himself hurt but not exactly avoid it either- If he can feel pain it means that there is something human in him doesn't it?
But Pierre hates dying and he will avoid and lash out when put into such a situation. He fears what will wake up, if it will still be him.
Sometimes Kameto look at the rest of the Islanders and he wonders what his own life could have been, what sort of bonds he could have forged with people, if the Federation didn't come for him first.
Etoiles does not know what his worth is if not as a warrior.
He is not smart like the others, he doesn't build pretty buildings or incredible machines, he doesn't know how to do anything but fight. And if he can't fight, if he can't protect the people he cares about, then why is he still around?
War is everything Etoiles really knows. By the time he reached his late teens and was released from the battlefield he had seen more combat than some people in their old age, everything he knew how to do was to fight, he had nowhere to go, knew no one, had nothing.
He was never able to settle down for too long or even to truly build himself a home, Etoiles knew so very little about the world that he just decided he would explore it. Some people in the army talked about things they missed, things they thought worth fighting for, and Etoiles wanted to understand that feeling of fighting for anything but his own survival.
To this day he still feel more comfortable fighting than he ever does doing anything else.
None of them ever had families.
The concept of family was something Antoine learned by watching other species and for a very long time it was not something he truly understood or could relate. It was only after the plane crash and Pomme that it hit him that maybe he can understand this thing now.
Baghera always thought she was just an orphan with amnesia. She had very little memories of her young years and none of them involved other people, just her and a room, so for a long time she believed she was alone in the world. Even now she struggles with that emptiness, especially now that she knows that the Federation may be the closest thing to family that she will ever have.
Etoiles had parents once. He knows he did, but he cannot remember their faces or even their voices most of the time. He was still just a small child when they came for him and sent him to war.
Pierre was always alone. He had parents but they could as well be ghosts haunting their home, he hardly could see glimpses of them from time to time, all he ever truly had were his machines.
#enough happiness it's sad bitch o'clock#im just here to bring the mood down and peace out#qsmp#qsmp headcanons#qsmp baghera#qsmp etoiles#qsmp antoine#qsmp aypierre#i hate all of those people and their fucking depressing lores#i hope they get hugs and hot cocoa#im just dumping my thoughts out because i need to focus on other things#i may do one of those for the others but idk yet#i have like 50 hc for one character and like 0 for others lmao#and i feel genuinely bad for not including everyone#so fuck me i guess
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darling, starling
— 5. unwritten rules — ✦ (wc: 0.4k)
You will never understand how people wake up before 10 a.m. and enjoy it. Scaramouche was your complete opposite in that regard, preferring to start his days egregiously early. But if you could help it, you'd stay in bed and sleep until the early afternoon hours, cuddled up in the warmth of your blankets.
But here you are, not comfortable in bed but instead seated on your sofa and half-heartedly watching some soap opera on the TV while you wait for the man of the hour to discuss a deal that could change both of your careers, for better or for worse.
The huge glass windows let in sunlight from the waking world, bathing the room in natural light. Scaramouche gives you a nod of acknowledgment as he sits down, a cup of way-too-bitter tea in hand. He takes off his reading glasses and leans back to look at you properly.
“You look like shit,” he greets.
You rub your eyes before glaring at him, “I wanted to catch you before you ran off to the nearby cafe to write your book. We need to actually talk about what we’re getting into in this deal.”
You take a breath before starting, “It’s not going to be easy dating me. Fake or not.”
Scaramouche’s words are dripping in sarcasm. “I know your food preferences if that’s what you're worried about.”
“That...” you groan. “That isn’t even what I mean and you know it; I’m being serious. You know how relentless the media can be when it comes to me. Rumors of us dating have been around since we were first spotted going out and about with our friends. And they’ve only gotten worse since you moved in with me.”
“I can take whatever the tabloids throw at me,” he shrugs. “Besides, my aunt works for The Akasha, remember? She has a lot of pull, not just in Sumeru.”
Is he even taking this seriously? His nonchalant air makes you think he doesn’t understand the gravity of the situation you’re getting yourselves into. He consistently interacts with his fans but maintains a respectful distance from them — you know he's capable of handling a life of fame.
But ever since you stepped onto the stage, the tabloids have followed you like a phantom — lurking in every corner and following your every move. Their eyes aren’t only set on you, though, but on every person associated with you. Scaramouche’s privacy has been invaded multiple times throughout your friendship with him, and he’s expressed his distaste for a life that's fully in the public eye in the past.
Why is he so determined to see this through?
“I doubt one editor-in-chief will be enough to influence the press,” you say.
“But she does control what stories get published,” he points out. “And if she approves articles about us being spotted together in public, it’ll be enough to get people talking.”
He has a point. Goddamn it, maybe he actually thought this through and this wasn’t just some half-assed plan he came up with at 2 a.m.
The two of you would have to set some rules, but that could come at a later date.
“Do we have a deal?” Scaramouche sticks out his hand.
“Yeah.” you take his hand and shake it. “We got a deal.”
✧— previous — masterlist — next —✧
summary:
rule number one: don't fall in love.
rule number two: no one can know about the deal.
rule number three: keep physical affection limited to the public eye. no kissing under any circumstances.
rule number four: break up after you release your album.
easy enough to remember. oh, and remember to not break the rules okay?
author's notes:
sorry for being inactive lmao i got depressed for a hot minute
nah cause why is scarayn banter so much fun to write
taglist — currently OPEN:
@aestherin @unsterblich-prinz @yourstrulykore @krnzysh @syriiina @yumiaur @featuredtofu @kodzusmiles @meigalaxy @fangygf @motherscrustytoenailclippings @samyayaya @hiimera @beriiov @e0nssadrift @dazaisboner @nillajhayne @chluuvr @nillajhayne @deffenferofjustice @romyoia @xiaomainlmao @hotgirlshit5 @potabletable @letthewindlead @esuz @toriiee @kclremin @angelkazusstuff @phoenix-eclipses @sakiimeo @mayuumine @ako-ang-mahal-ko @only-cherry-blossom @keiiqq @what-just-happened-huh @n3r0-1417 @haunts-gh0st @layla240 @mamafly @duckyyyx @certified-shrimp @kgogoma @xtobefreex @aeongiies @mechanicalbeat1 @meidnightrain @nordicbananas @feiherp @erzarq
#genshin impact#genshin smau#genshin impact smau#scaramouche smau#wanderer smau#scara smau#scaramouche x reader#wanderer x reader#scara x reader#kunikuzushi x reader#scaramouche x you#wanderer x you#genshin x reader#genshin x you#genshin impact x reader#genshin imagines#genshin impact imagines#genshin modern au#genshin celebrity au#genshin scaramouche#genshin impact scaramouche#darling starling smau
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Can we take a moment and talk about
Miguel, Hobie, and the Black!Reader
a.k.a Black Men aren't the only one who date black women so why are there only Black!Readers for black characters????
Don't think anyone has said it but I would like to see Miguel with some Black readers/Black OCs.
Like, I wanna see Miguel with a Boujee black woman, a loud one, a meek one, a stallion, a petite one-
I just wanna see Miguel x Black!Readers and Miguel x Black!OCs.
Black people are everywhere, in every fandom.
So black readers should be giving rep everywhere - not just with radical black characters like Hobie
Black women and black people in general IRL have our features demonized or looked down upon. In media, in the beauty industry, the fashion industry, hair industry, you name it. Our skin tones are 'too dark' to match well with makeup, our bodies too curvy or different, or hair too thick and hard to manage.
I think having characters openly express interest in them is radical - whether the character themselves are black or not.
The reason the Black Representation within Hobie romance fics stands out so much because every other character LACKS that.
In almost every other x reader fandom, black people and our features are ignored and erased for 'sweeter' things like blushing or 'running their fingers through your hair'
Like... Why can't there be a fic where Miguel compliments his Black partners hair. Or tries soul food?
You don't have to be a radical leftist like Hobie to find black people attractive.
So there's no reason for black!Reader to be confined to Hobie - or black characters at all.
You can write Dean Winchester with a Black!Reader. Or Sherlock Holmes, or Hobie Brown, or Miguel O'Hara.
Attraction to black people is so often seen as a fetish - that most white people and white characters never openly exhibit admiration or love towards black features and culture. They'd rather push us and our differences aside because acknowledging them and their beauty makes people uncomfortable. But those same characters will always 100% be implied to find white women attractive.
And in the Superhero Movie Sphere it's even worse.
ie. It's VERY VERY rare you will find Tony Stark with a Black woman.
The large majority of the women you see with Tony Stark early in the movies are WHITE. The ones he's taking to at galas and playing roulette in front of and kicking out after one night stands - White and blonde. If he sleeps with them - white and blonde.
And that's fine in the general population - a nonblack man who 'loves women' and loves sex just... not being seen with black women at all.
But if Tony Stark went two movies sleeping with only women that aren't white - uh-oh!! That draws attention!!
It's completely okay and not a fetish to be super attracted to white features in isolation, but if you take interest in non-white features without validating white women in the same breath then you're nasty and a fetishist and a racist.
Another example - Batman.
Zoe Kravitz was the first time we've seen Batman openly go after a black woman since maybe Eartha Kitt in 1967 - OVER 50 years apart
In the Christian Bale movies - he never flirts with black women. This classy, smooth Bruce Wayne isn't seen interacting with them. I mean... Why? Does he not like them? Or are the all the black people in Gotham just too poor to be around him to begin with?
????????? That don't add up. But that's how most characters are.
If a nonblack male character is shown in a relationship with a woman - the chances of that woman being cast as a black woman hits the FLOOR.
Their first choice is almost always white.
And the saddest thing is
Spider-Man is the biggest example of black erasure in romance and the effects it causes.
That's why when Zendaya got cast as MJ - it was a problem.
Because before then, during the 70 semi years of Peter Parker's existence - he was never shown on screen being attracted to black women in any capacity.
Betty, Gwen, Felicia, MJ - all white. In the cartoons, white. In the remake, white. Silk is probably one of - if not the - first POC we see Peter with. And they don't date, they've never been shown on screen, and over the past years Cindy has had a better written relationship with Felicia than she ever had with Peter.
For half a century we were conditioned to believe that Peter Parker dated white women with no representation or deviation.
Back in 2016 when TASM series was coming out, if you were a black reader who wanted to see yourself represented in any way or capacity on screen or in Fandom - good luck.
We're use to seeing these very romantically forward guys never flirting or fucking or dating black women. We're conditioned to accept this as normal.
It takes a genuine toll.
That's why when I was younger, I use to feel so insecure. Wondering if my favorite characters or celebrities would even find me slightly attractive. The idea that my favorite character wouldn't find me attractive because they've never been seen with a Black partner or interest ever not even once in passing hurts.
As a teen I just accepted that these characters 'Don't like black people' and can't find them attractive in that capacity. Because I mean, I have no reason to think they do - when most nonblack characters won't even look at a black female character for longer than 5 seconds.
Growing up I just accepted that these characters and the fandom as a whole did not see anything beautiful about me because of my race.
That's why Black readers should be more widespread.
We should be telling people that non-black men finding black women attractive is NORMAL.
I read SO many fics of black characters and go 'okay but they wrote reader as white.'
I have NEVER read a fic of a non-black character and gone 'okay they wrote the reader as Black'
Y'all.... You can write interracial relationships with characters that aren't black.
Interracial Relationships are not a special magic tool you can use to pair black characters up with non-black readers. Interracial Relationships go both ways.
If you're down for writing Hobie x NonBlack!Reader and writing an interracial relationship there - why are y'all not down for Miguel x Black!Reader?
Why are interracial relationships good when the black man experiences attraction outside his race towards nonblack people - but bad/unlikely when the nonblack man experiences attraction outside his race towards black people?
'Hobie loves everyone' Okay, Miguel would too. But I don't see the 'Hobie Loves' people rushing and pushing for inclusion in the Miguel tag. They don't care if fanwriters show Miguel 'loving everyone'.
They don't go -
'Miguel loves latinas, Miguel loves black women' in Miguel's tag.
Even though nonblack men experience attraction towards black people and black women everyday across the world.
Some are even married to us - can you believe it??
In conclusion - More Miguel x Black!Reader. More Miguel x Black!OC.
Give Miguel AfroLatino Babies!!!!
Give Miguel O'Hara a Nigerian Wife so help me God
Anyway - Big up @hrhmimieucliffe and their AMAZING Black OC Giselle, who has a ~thing~ ;) with Miguel (they are v cute!!)
More Miguel x Black!Reader. More Miguel with Black! OCs. I want a Miguel that likes his women like he likes his milkshakes - tall, sweet, thicc as fuck, and FULL OF CHOCOLATE
And once again, that's on WHAT!!!!
#you thought it was over#nah I'm back and I'm black#spiderman#atsv#spider man#marvel#across the spiderverse#hobie brown#spider punk#spiderpunk#miguel o'hara#miguel o hara#miguel ohara#miguel x reader#miguel x you#Miguel x oc#miguel o'hara x reader#Miguel O'Hara x OC#miguel o'hara x you#Hobie Brown x reader#Hobie brown x you#marvel fanfic#spiderman 2099#miguel ohara x reader#miguel ohara x you#hobie x black!reader#hobie x reader#hobie x you#hobie x oc#hobie brown x oc
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That Funny Feeling ||| neteyam x omatikaya!reader
part two of The Future's Better Than Yesterday | previous | series masterlist | next |
pairings: neteyam x omatikayal!fem!reader *aged up*
summary: after listening to Mo’at insisting on finding a mate for you, you spend time with a boy in the village. Seeing the two of you together fuels Neteyam’s jealousy leading him to a confession.
words: 1.9k
warnings/notes: cringy tooth rotting fluff, use of y/n, probably spelling/grammar errors (sorry), mentions of finding a mate, friends to lovers starts to go somewhere, jealous!neteyam, also made up Na’vi name, honestly not a whole lot going on this chapter
Rolling your eyes you continued the task at hand. Hands busy at work making different healing pastes to replenish the stock. You wanted nothing more than to work in peace but Mo'at wouldn't let up.
"I will you help you my child." She continued. "It's time you find a mate."
"I already told you," letting out a heavy sigh. "I'm not looking for a mate right now."
"You have been of age for some time now. You cannot push it back forever."
You weren't ready. At this rate you could barley take care of yourself, the last thing you wanted to do was throw someone else into the mix. Besides, there was only one person you could see yourself with and that would never happen.
"My visions are getting worse. I don't want to drag someone into this. Until I get them under control I want to remain on my own."
"You are stubborn like your father." The Tsahík huffed.
Your face softened at the mention of your father. Knowing that other people noticed similarities between the two of you made your heart soar.
"Talk some sense into her Kiri." Mo'at continued to press.
"I'm staying out of this." Kiri raised her hands in surrender.
You couldn't help but laugh. "Good choice Kiri."
Despite your words the Tsahík knew that there was one young man you had your eye on. She also knew that he felt the same for you. The two of you thought you were sly but it had been painfully obvious for everyone else.
You would never admit your feelings for Neteyam because you feared rejection. There was no way he could feel the same so you didn't want to ruin the friendship the two of you had.
No one knew why Neteyam still hadn't confessed his feelings. Everyone knew he had been pining over you for years.
He just didn't know how to confess his feelings to you yet. Neteyam being the perfectionist that he is, had to have everything planned out to the last detail. Everything was always calculated and precise.
He would tell you when he had it all figured out.
Neteyam wasn't worried about rushing. He made it obvious to the other young men of the clan that you were off limits. Threatening anyone who so much as looked at you.
Even the Tsahík had noticed this in her grandson. You two were a match from Eywa herself. But Neteyam was too young and dumb to do anything about it. So Mo’at decided you needed a little push.
She had no doubt of your feelings and knew you’d be a perfect future Tsahík. Your connection to The Great Mother was undeniable and your care for the people was genuine. You would complete Neteyam in leading the people.
All that was needed was for one if you to make the first move.
***
Later that day you were in your tent with Kiri. "Your grandmother is driving me to madness." You huffed still irritated from earlier.
"You know that it's only gonna get worse from here right? My grandmother is relentless."
"I've noticed."
The entrance flap of the tent opened revealing a young man. He stood there awkwardly, seemingly unsure of himself.
"Ateyo." Kiri acknowledged him. "Are you injured?"
"No actually." he replied shifting his weight on his feet. "I'm here to see Y/N."
Your ears shot up at the sound of your name. Slowly turning around to face him you took him in. He gave a small smile and waved.
Having a feeling that someone else was up to something you couldn't help but be suspicious.
"What can I help you with Ateyo?" You wore your best fake smile hoping he didn't notice.
"I was wondering if you'd like to go on a walk with me?" He nervously scratched the back of his neck.
Your eyes practically bugged out of your head. Looking over to Kiri she had her hand pressed to her mouth trying to conceal her laughter.
Taking a deep breath you tried to think of something to get you out of this. "Thank you, but I still have work here to do."
"I can hold down the fort." Kiri knowingly smirked at you.
You whipped around giving her a look. Which only fueled her laughter more. You could've smacked the smile right off her.
"Shall we go then?" Ateyo asked holding his arm out for you. It was a sweet gesture but it meant little to you coming from him.
With one last glare at Kiri you followed Ateyo out of your tent. "Have fun you two!" Kiri exclaimed.
"You don't deserve to live." You mouthed to her. She stuck her tongue out in return before hunching over in laughter.
"Did the Tsahík put you up to this?" You winced slightly at your bluntness. But you couldn't help but ask. Ateyo was nice but had never once showed interest in you.
"She had mentioned something to me." He nervously chuckled. "But I would like to spend some time with you."
"I don't know what she told you but I'm not looking for a relationship right now." He nodded listening carefully to you.
"Would a walk as friends be alright then?" Ateyo asked his voice laced with hope.
"I would like that." You smiled.
For the most part you enjoyed Ateyo's company. Still, there was a part of you that wished he was anyone else. You’d rather be racing your Ikrans with Lo'ak or gossiping with Kiri. Hell you'd even play dolls with Tuk.
You most definitely would rather be walking with Neteyam right now.
Despite his words you noticed his lingering glances and occasional subtle flirting. You didn't pay much attention to it, you weren't at all interested so it didn't matter.
***
Neteyam bounded into your tent with a huge smile on his face. He had a habit of obtaining slight injuries that needed your immediate attention. It was the perfect excuse to come see you and one of the only times he got to see you during the day.
"Are you injured brother?" Kiri asked looking him up and down.
Smile fading he looked around the room noticing your absence. "Where is Y/N?"
"Hello brother, it is nice to see you too." Kiri rolled her eyes. "My day has been good thanks for asking." She taunted.
"That's nice Kiri, but where is Y/N?" He was trying to be nice to his sister but his patience was wearing thin.
"She's out. Is there anything I could help you with?" She smirked.
"Out where?"
"Not sure. But if you need help with the scrape on your head I happen to be a very skilled healer. Unless, there was another reason you needed Y/N?" Her tone teasing.
Neteyam felt his face heat up at his sister's words. She knew exactly why he wanted to see you but still chose to torture him. "Never mind Kiri.”
Walking out of the tent he was met with a sight that made his stomach drop. There you were entering the village with a man. His blood ran cold and then started to boil as the man put his hand on your shoulder.
Neteyam wanted nothing more than to rip his hand off.
A million thoughts were running through his head. Neteyam never considered himself to be a jealous person but that funny feeling was creeping into his stomach. The green cloud of envy was blurring his senses.
So distracted in his thoughts he didn’t notice you walk up to him. “Hi Neteyam.” You smiled your sweet smile. Your smile that should be for him and only him.
“We need to talk.” He grabbed your wrist pulling you away from the village. “You don’t have to drag me I can walk myself.” You grumble pulling your arm away.
“Sorry.” Was all he grumbled as you kept walking. You knew exactly where he wanted to go.
He pushed the brush back allowing you to enter the clearing first. Taking a seat at your normal spot you watched as he did the same.
“What’s up with you? You seem grumpy.” You playfully said.
“Who were you with?” Was all he said.
“Ateyo invited me for a walk.” You cautiously said noticing his mood still hadn’t improved.
He scoffed. Ateyo wasn’t even the best hunter in the clan. You could do much better than him.
“So you’re together now?” He couldn’t meet your stare.
A laugh escaped your lips. His ears twitch before he finally turned to look at you. His heart was on the verge of breaking into a million pieces and you were laughing?
“Neteyam where are you coming up with this?” You asked still giggling. You stopped when you noticed his expression stayed hard.
Your face softened as you took him in. He was genuinely upset and you suspected a little jealous. “Your grandmother has been pestering me to find a mate.” You started. His ears perked up listening to you.
“She asked Ateyo to spend time getting to know me. I told him the same thing I told her. I am not interested in a mate right now.”
Neteyam’s angry expression was melting into sadness. He was glad you weren’t courting Ateyo, but your words stung.
Feeling bold you pushed further, “Why would it matter if I was interested in him?”
“Because it just does.” He huffed.
“But why?” Scooting closer to him desperately trying to look in his eyes. “Why did you bring me here Teyem?”
“I just, I just needed to know that you weren’t with him.” He looked up at you panic evident in his face. His eyes a bit watery. It was now or never.
“I want to be yours Y/N.” He spoke softy. “I want you more than anything I’ve ever wanted. It’s always been you.”
You felt like someone knocked the wind out of you. The boy you loved just confessed his feelings to you. You gently pinched your arm just to make sure this was real. It was.
“Neteyam I don’t know what to say.”
“You don’t have to say anything.” He gently cupped your cheek. “Just listen.”
“You are my best friend, my favorite person, and the only girl I’ve ever loved. I want to be with you for the rest of our lives Y/N.”
Tears were freely spilling out of your eyes. This was all you ever wanted but you still couldn’t help but feel unworthy. “Neteyam you need a strong mate to be your Tsahík. I am not her.”
“But you are. You’re the most selfless, loving, and caring person I know. You will guide the people far better than I ever could.”
“What about your parents? They are supposed to choose for you.”
“I do not care.” He was desperately trying to make you understand. “You are the only thing I’ve ever wanted. The one thing I want to choose myself. My whole life has been laid out for me but I will not let them take you from me. If they disapprove, I will run away with you. We could be happy just the two of us.”
“Teyam.” You smiled placing your hand over his on your cheek.
“Say you will be mine Y/N. You already know I am yours.”
Studying his eyes they were so sure not a trace of doubt in them. You could see the gold swirls and the flecks of green, wanting nothing more than to be lost in them forever.
“I see you Y/N.”
#avatar#avatar fanfiction#avatar imagine#avatar the way of water#fanfiction#neteyam#neteyam fanfiction#neteyam imagine#neteyam x na'vi!reader#neteyam x reader#becca writes 🌙
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Hi Stormblessed (dope name btw),
Don't know if this is the best place for this essay or the right time but I need to word-vomit this out, or I'm gonna be a JK-style spaced out zombie all day.
It's a truth universally acknowledged that a big part of the fandom tends to mis-characterize the members based on edits, fanfics and out-of-context clips. Something probably mostly to do with how social media platforms have been pushing for these short videos over the last few years. Why watch 300 hours of original content (some of which is behind a paywall) if you can get the gist of it (you think) from TikToks?
My particular point has to do with how that allows for the narrative (aka made up shit) especially around Jimin to grow. All of the members get that treatment, the maknaes worse due to their popularity, but due to how a big part of Army are also tkk shippers, Jimin is the one who's portrayal often skews more negative. The others' perceptions just are neutral or fantastical in a sense that they're more like badly written male leads. Don't get me wrong, solos throwing around bs is nothing singular to him but no one gets accused (said completely seriously btw) of sleeping his way into BTS or the release of his album.
After I saw this vitriol for the first time I had to actually sit down because wtf.
And then I started wondering why that is, and came to the conclusion that it is:
(Internalized) misogyny and sexism
Blatant homophobia
Jimin is the member the most obviously in tune of his femininity. He hasn't subscribed to gender norms for a decade at least, and once his hyper-masculine-esque persona from the debut days was dismissed, he ventured further. (That isn't to dismiss the growth they all have shown in that area.)
But antis, akgaes, Solos and shippers take that femininity and apply every stereotype and misogynistic idea to JM.
Traits they f.e. hate:
He is openly flirty with many people (members especially)
He is very physical, and touch is arguably one of his love languages and go-to way of comforting smn
He is pretty af and knows it
He's sensual and sexy and knows it
He's cute
He's sweet (aka a good fucking human)
But why does that make "them" hate him so much?
Because they have been taught that these traits in women (like themselves) are bad. What makes it worse, however, is that the men around JM all know these things to be true, acknowledge them as true and compliment him on them. In the case of JK (since this is about Jikook at the end of the day):
He loves flirty JM despite sometimes not knowing how to handle him (ehem the 'shameless convo'). He flirts back (fe the whole live where he was in bed begging for JM to come over)
Tkkers and such love pulling the "JK hates it" card. Which is nonsense, considering how he seeks JM's comfort when he's down (esp during concerts), actively cuddles JM (In The Soop) and never uses all his big muscles to shove JM but rather to just carry him around. Compare that to the jokingly disgusted face Yoongi pulls when Tae tries to hold his hand, and it becomes glaringly obvious that no one who says the members dislike touching each other has a leg to stand on. Calling it harassment goes so far beyond any line of sanity...
JK - like all of BTS - acknowledges that Jimin's beauty is simply out of this world. They are regularly stunned by his appearance
Just gonna point to JK's reaction to Filter, Blood Sweat & Tears, Black Swan, and Set Me Free pt 2 here. JK calls JM sexy so often it's hilarious
* inserts clip of absolutely WHIPPED JK after JM cutely punches him during that performance of Boy With Luv *. Also we know that "cute" his JK's type as he himself admitted.
Jimin has been Jungkook's comfort person for so long, and with such depth that he dedicated a whole trip and video to him. They care for each other so deeply that the only logical conclusion was to go to the military together.
Aka: he is all that they hate in the girls/women in their normal life so they can't do nothing but tear him down. They envy how comfortable he seems in his own skin, how easily he goes from sexy to cute, how loved he is by those around him. On top of that is how gay people are still perceived and treated by a lot of countries around the world. No matter what they say, being an army and shipping men doesn't make you automatically an ally and non-homophobic.
They treat Jimin like they would most likely treat the lgtbqia+ people in real life: something to be careful of, someone dishonest and slutty.
They conflate everything they hate about themselves and gay people and * boom * out come frankly terrifying tweets, fanfics and shit.
Contrast that with how these very same people fetishize the relationship between Tae and Jungkook - either viewing them like men who watch p_rn involving two women, or a self-insert with how little character they have - and that's the state of the army shipping community. They could be Barbie dolls getting smashed together and you wouldn't know the difference.
I'm not saying Jikookers are better in that, but the language they tend to use is incredibly different.
---
That was a lot.
To end on a sweet note: I saw a quote on Twitter "If you want to find out what someone fears losing, look at what they photograph."
And...well. that just screams Jikook
Hi! Thank you, I like my name too 🥰
And yeah, basically I agree. I think there is more to it as well, but that a lot of it could be boiled down to all this. And yeah, jikookers are just as guilty of this too, but not always in the same way. Sometimes in a way that is more fetishizing but is just as harmful. Take it from someone who has seen it all in my inbox from people who feel safe on anon 😂😂
Thanks for sharing! And your quote at the end is SOOOOO cute!
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Rescued by Love Epilogue
★ Summary: Your brother Steve always hated you after your mother's death and when he finally gets the family's empire he is ready to sell you off to some toxic marriage but will the knight and shining armor save you or make it worse?
★ Pairing: Bucky x f!Reader
★ Warnings: Arranged Marriage
★ Genre: Angst/ Fluff
Masterlist
The grand gala was the talk of the town, a glittering affair held in one of New York's most luxurious ballrooms. The city's elite had gathered there, draped in opulent gowns and tailored suits, to witness the unveiling of the mysterious newcomer in the South's burgeoning mafia world. Rumors had swirled for weeks about this enigmatic figure, someone who was rapidly amassing power and influence, even threatening the established crime families.
As the anticipation built in the lead-up to the gala, Bucky found himself standing with Steve in a quiet corner of the ballroom, their expressions a mix of curiosity and anticipation.
"You sure about this, Steve?" Bucky asked, his gaze scanning the elegantly dressed crowd. "You really think this new guy gonna show up here?"
Steve nodded, his eyes focused on the entrance. "Yeah, Buck, I'm pretty sure. My sources are usually spot-on about these things. Whoever this guy is, he's been making waves down South. The word is, he's looking to expand his reach, and he's already got some of the old families nervous."
Bucky's brow furrowed. "Any idea who he might be?"
Steve shrugged. "Not much to go on, really. The details are pretty scarce. But the way I hear it, he's strategic, smart, and ruthless. He's got people willing to follow him without question, and that's how he's been able to rise so quickly."
Bucky crossed his arms, his brow furrowing. "But why would he come all the way up here? And why would they even consider teaming up with us?"
Steve leaned in, his voice dropping to a hushed tone. "It's about strength, Bucky. This new guy wants to expand their reach, and allying with us would give them the backing they need. And in return, we'd gain access to their resources and connections."
Bucky's skepticism was evident. "Steve, I get the whole strength in numbers thing, but we don't even know who this guy is. He could be some hotshot rookie who's in over his head."
Steve nodded, acknowledging Bucky's concerns. "I know it's a risk, but sometimes you gotta take chances to come out on top. The potential rewards are too big to ignore."
Bucky let out a sigh, his uncertainty still lingering. "I just hope this guy shows up. I mean, what if he's got cold feet or something? We're all here waiting, and he might not even come through."
Steve gave Bucky a reassuring pat on the back. "Look, we'll know soon enough. And if he's half as smart as we think he is, he'll understand the benefits of this alliance. We just need to stay patient and keep our eyes open."
As the grand gala unfolded, the tension in the air seemed to thicken. Bucky and Steve continued to scan the crowd, their curiosity about the new mafia leader heightening with every passing moment. The anticipation reached a crescendo as the room fell into an expectant hush, all eyes locked onto the entrance.
And then, you walked in.
The room erupted into a mixture of gasps, whispers, and stunned silence. Bucky's eyes widened, his heart racing, as he watched you glide through the entrance with a confidence that commanded attention. He couldn't believe what he was seeing – you, his ex-wife, the last person he expected to be connected to the dangerous underworld they navigated.
As the shock spread through the crowd, Steve turned to Bucky, his own surprise evident in his expression. "Buck... is that...?"
Bucky's voice was barely a whisper as he confirmed the truth, his disbelief clear. "What she-she's been gone for so long it can't"
"Buck, I'm telling you, she's probably just the wife," Steve asserted, his tone condescending. "I mean, look at her. She's not exactly radiating power and authority. This whole setup screams 'arm candy' more than anything else."
Bucky's brows furrowed as he looked at Steve, his own doubts mixing with a growing frustration. He had kept his silence thus far, grappling with his own shock and uncertainty, but he couldn't let Steve's dismissive words go unanswered.
As Bucky approached you, his heart raced with a mixture of anticipation and anxiety. He felt a rush of emotions seeing you again, especially in such unexpected circumstances.
Meanwhile, Steve's rant continued behind him, his words trailing off as he noticed Bucky's departure. "Buck, where are you going? You can't seriously be buying into this—"
But Bucky had already reached you, his gaze locking onto yours as he tried to read the truth in your expression. The chatter of the gala around them seemed to fade into the background as he stood before you, the weight of their shared history heavy in the air.
"Hey," Bucky began, his voice soft and uncertain. "I didn't expect to see you here."
Your silence seemed to stretch on for a moment before you finally spoke, your words cutting through the air with a chilling precision. "Bucky," you said, your tone icy. "It's not a crime to attend a gala, last time I checked."
Bucky felt his heart sink at your tone, the distance between you tangible. "What are you doing here?" he asked, his voice tinged with a mixture of curiosity and concern.
Your gaze remained fixed on him, the coldness in your expression unwavering. "I have business," you replied simply, your tone leaving no room for further questions.
Bucky couldn't help but blurt out the question that had been nagging at him. "You joined the crime business? I thought you hated it." Bucky says with a growing smile on his face as a way to lighten the mood.
Your lips curved into a cold smile, and your response was laced with a sharpness that took him aback. "Noo who told you that." you said chuckling at his question "I just hated the way you and Steve acted the second you joined it, thinking you were big shit." you say still smiling knowing that the remark was gonna struck a nerve.
Before Bucky can respond, a man walks up to you whispering something into your ear and then guides you to a room, full of some of the biggest bosses the West has to offer.
As the night wore on, Bucky found himself watching you from a distance, unable to shake the unease that had settled in his chest. He knew he needed to make amends, to bridge the gap that had grown between you. And so, as the gala drew to a close and you seemed ready to leave, he made a decision.
He approached you with a determined stride, his words rushed and heartfelt. "Wait, I just... I wanted to say I'm sorry. For everything. I'm sorry I was the reason you left"
Your expression remained guarded, but there was a flicker of something in your eyes. Before you could respond, however, Steve appeared beside Bucky, his glare directed at you.
"It's been a long time, hasn't it?" you replied, your voice tinged with a hint of regret. "I needed space, time to figure things out."
Bucky sighed, his eyes filled with understanding. "I'm so sorry. I should've been a better husband. I neglected you when you needed me the most."
His words hung in the air, heavy with remorse. The memories of your turbulent marriage and the pain it had brought resurfaced, but you could see the sincerity in his eyes, and it touched a chord within you.
"I've moved on, Bucky," you said, your voice tinged with compassion. "I've learned to be independent."
Bucky nodded, his gaze never leaving yours. "You've done well for yourself."
You acknowledged his words with a nod, your gaze lingering on him for a moment before you turned to leave once more.
"Take care" Bucky called after you, his voice filled with a mix of longing and acceptance.
As you walked away, Steve couldn't resist adding a remark. "You know, there was a time when life was simpler, happier, before you came into it. You just got to ruin it by coming back"
Bucky snapped his head at Steve but before he could respond you turned to him to speak to Steve instead.
"Well, Steve," you retorted with a touch of irony, "I guess life's full of surprises, isn't it?."
With that parting shot, you left Steve behind, striding away from the gala without looking back. The night was filled with possibilities, and the outcome of your journey remained uncertain. In this world of shadows and secrets, you had no time for sentimental reflections on the past. You were determined to thrive, no matter the cost, leaving the complicated relationships of your history in your wake.
fin
@cjand10 @blackwood-bodecker-housewife @marvel-ous-miss-maisie @hereticdance @kentokaze @bruher @tupperwarefullofdirt @unaxv @learisa @emerald-writes @aya-fay @stinkerbelle007 @scifinerd1818 @paarthurnax59 @vickie5446 @almosttoopizza @kandis-mom @kittimbo @blackhawkfanatic @diannana @scuzmunkie @
#winter soldier x reader angst#winter soldier x reader#bucky barnes x reader#bucky x reader angst#bucky x reader#bucky barnes x reader angst
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Johnny Cage x Celebrity Reader
~~~~~~~~~~~~
Tonight's walk with your celebrity peer was supposed to calm you after the shitshow of an interview you had as a guest on a television host show.
Maybe the walk wasn't helping because the flickering street annoyed your senses. Or you could see the stars to a bare minimum due to light pollution.
This area is where famous or rich people commonly reside, so it's what you indirectly asked for.
"I don't get why you're surprised, Y/n. Her last name literally is a few letters off from spelling 'Degenerate'. I told you she was going to ask questions like those." Your beloved doucebag friend tries to console you. You didn't know if he was even making it worse.
"Okay, I know what you said before, Cage! I wasn't actually expecting her to just- I don't know- blurt out my personal business and try to put me on the spot." You glared at him.
"Did you not watch when Swift was-"
"Let's not talk about that." You cut him off and kept walking down the street with him, trying to brush off the embarrassment and anger.
After a brief moment of silence, Johnny sighs. "Honestly, don't take what she said to heart. Coming from me, you're amazing!"
Getting a genuine compliment from the famous actor Johnny Cage was something many can't achieve.
"Coming from you, I guess that makes me feel better." You smile a bit. "Anyways, how is the set on Ninja Mime goi-"
"Are you Y/n L/n?!" Both of you hear someone scream ahead. So much for a quiet night walk...
There stood some guy who looked around your age, looking very surprised to see you. Only you, he didn't seem to acknowledge Cage.
"Oh, erm, good evening!" You offered a shy smile. Still becoming a growing celebrity, you weren't quite use to interacting with fans. Despite being on stage a few times, but it's partially different.
The fan ran to you, making you tense up in alert, but he only extended out a hand.
To you, it wasn't a big deal to give a fan a simple handshake, not until he said something unnecessarily random.
"Wow, you looked a lot slimmer in your photos."
It just didn't click until you noticed him looking you up and down which made you pretty uncomfortable.
And that comment alone made Johnny take his sunglasses off to eye the boy in a disgusted manner. Unfortunately, it didn't end there.
Retrieving your hand away and brushing it on your clothes, you let out a fake laugh before you and Johnny moved along past.
"Well, nice to meet you. I wish you a goodnight." You politely dismissed.
The fan frowned just before speeding in front of you. "Wait! Can I maybe get your phone number? Or you can follow me on my social media! I pretty much have everything you got-"
"Ohh, no thanks! Sweet of you, but I'm okay!" You smile wider, getting more uncomfortable to the point you reached for your friend's hand for comfort or perhaps help.
"But-"
"Hey, buddy, she said no! Go back to your room and jerk it!" Johnny snapped, pulling you behind him to be protective.
The fan didn't take lightly to the confrontation. "I wasn't talking to you! Your movies fucking suck!"
You grimaced, knowing that one was a strike to Johnny's ego. You butt in before it escalates further.
"If I take a picture with you, would you be happy with that?" You asked the obsessed male, patting Johnny so he moves out your way. He still kept an irritated glare on the boy.
"Sure, I'd like that. But can I still get your-"
Johnny pulls you away before the boy finishes his greedy requests. "Lesson thirty-six, you offer a fan one thing, you give them EVERYTHING."
Before you even replied, the fan tries grabbing you back which made you panic.
Letting out a yelp, Johnny was alerted and did not hesitate to punch the creep. The delivered hit caused the fan to fall on the concrete, a little red fluid leaking from his nose and covering a bit of his teeth.
"You don't ever touch her! I don't care if you're her biggest fan!" Cage scolded loudly at the fan who seemed pretty knocked out after that single hit.
You let out a relieved sigh. You didn't exactly want the fan to get hurt, but no matter now, he's going to leave you alone now.
"Come on, we'll get you back to your condo." Johnny calmly tells you, wrapping an arm around you and escorting you away.
For a douchebag, he was a pretty loveable friend.
~~~~~~~~~~~~
#mortal kombat 11#mortal kombat#mortal kombat x reader#mk imagine#mortal kombat imagines#mk headcanons#mortal kombat headcanons#johnny cage#johnny cage x reader#goddesswritings
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I think one of my main annoyances in Hori writing is him trying to redeem every villain and hero that some of them just doesn’t deserve that redemption.
Like; it’s reminds me too much of Naruto. But the difference is Naruto isn’t being held by modern standards since it set in a fictional world with ninjas while bnha is set in 200+ years in the future in modern japan.
I absolutely despise Endeavor and how he abused his family as a whole; in modern society he would have been put in jail, and yet he still gets a redemption arc. It’s feels like it’s cheapen all of the todorokis trauma.
And shoto being bakugo friend is another thing, since bakugo is so much like endeavor… like, if I had a classmate that act so much like my abusive parent that I absolutely despise I wouldn’t be close to them at all.
It’s gave me bad feeling how Hori just brushes all of the trauma the characters have from the actions of other characters selfish acts.
When I started reading the manga in 2015 I thought the concept is really good and having a main character with anxiety and socialization problems (in the start) made me hooked, because I had those things too. But looking at it now 8 years later I just feel so much dissatisfaction and disappointments..
You have a great point about Naruto. I mean, I'm not a fan of Naruto because of reasons, but it's the same concept as to why I like Vegeta better than Bakugou despite Vegeta technically being a worse person. Because MHA and DBZ are two very different shows. One is about becoming stronger and being able to face any threat to the world no matter what, the other is trying to push a narrative about morality and being a "true hero." The Z Fighters do have their own moral compasses, but it varies between every character. So there's no overarching theme that's beating us over the head.
Someone described this problem with MHA perfectly; it's constantly preaching about morality while willfully being tone deaf about its own overlaying issues. And that wouldn't even be so bad if so many of these issues weren't set up in the beginning to be addressed later.
I talk a lot about Bakugou, but I think we should focus on Endeavor like you mentioned. Not only are they similar in nature (temperamental, overzealous, dangerously ambitious), they're also two characters who benefit the most from the system in MHA.
...And it's barely ever acknowledged.
I mean sure, Dabi calls Endeavor out and it leads to the public losing faith in heroes. But not only does the family he abused and/or neglected choose to help him (I can't get over Fuyumi and Natsu taking blame for Touya when they were LITERAL CHILDREN wtf, not to mention Rei), why he was allowed to do this is never addressed. People knew he wasn't the kind hero All Might was, and it was something his fans admired along with his strength. Because as long as you have a strong quirk, you're admired in the MHA world and allowed to get away with whatever you want. Yet this is overlooked so easily.
(I like Hawks (because of Zeno Robinson mainly), but him dismissing this is so weird?? Why on Earth would Horikoshi go out of his way to introduce a character with an abusive father and make him an Endeavor fan? With no moment of clarity either?? There's something really off about that)
Bakugou's apology (one day I'll make a post critiquing this scene) is a little better in this regard as he does acknowledge that he was enabled because of his quirk. But again, it's really just skimmed over and only referenced to give Bakugou an excuse.
And the people who do question society and its system are either villains who are use it as an excuse to cause destruction and hurt people (the LOV and Overhaul) or bloodthirsty murderers (Stain). I would have loved for Horikoshi to introduce a group of vigilantes or anti-heroes who work outside of the HPSC and call out how discriminatory their system is.
Someone's talked about this before, but the Todoroki and Bakugou "friendship" was so forced and unnecessary. Bakugou has, at every turn, been completely unsympathetic towards the fact that Todoroki was abused and yelled at his sister for talking about it in her own home (but sure, let's call Bakugou an abuse victim I guess). Todoroki should have at the very least remained indifferent towards Bakugou like he was in the beginning.
Izuku deserves so much better than how Horikoshi treats him. He's either used as a tool to make Bakugou better or he's shoved into the background of his own show. He was so relatable in the beginning of the series only for the plot to suck his character dry.
#anti bakugou katsuki#bnha critical#mha critical#anti bakugo katsuki#anti bakugou#anti endeavor#anti enji todoroki#izuku deserves better#anon ask#ask
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