#I didn't know I needed domestic Vile | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

cherubispunk · 4 months

Text

CHERUB (PART III) - Dealer!Joel Miller x AFAB!Reader

summary: the devil has a funny habit of making you want your own suffering.

a note from Lucy: Well, this is it folks. The third and final instalment of the unholy trinity that is cherub. The fic that i had no idea would get this amount of traction. The fic that gave me my username, blog theme, the majority of my mutuals and the freedom to explore more taboo areas of writing that I never felt comfortable with doing before. I just wanted to thank you all for all the kind words you’ve shared with me. Comments, reblogs, messages, they all mean the utter world. But i also want to specifically thank @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin who was such a huge help for motivation when wrting each of these. She's been there since the first day of cherub and always let me obsess over dealer!joel with her. Ange, i love you baby. Out of all my fandom experiences, this has definitely been one of the best. I know this sounds a lot like a goodbye completely, but it's not i swear! I just never really knew where this was going, but I think this is a pretty good way to end the series and I hope you agree too. Part of me isn't ready to let go after such a short run, but I honestly have no idea where to go from here so I think I did it as much justice as I could. Regardless, Cherub and Dealer!Joel will forever have a place in my heart all thanks to you lovely lot! Your love means the world to me and you are all so easy to share this with, you've given me an environment to flourish creatively and I'm eternally grateful for that. I wish you all the love, hugs, kisses, and angel wishes in the world!

playlist

wc: 5548 Warnings: 18+ MDNI! DARK CONTENT! Unedited for now, no outbreak, no use of y/n but joel calls the reader ‘Cherub’, plot? what plot? we all know we're here for the porn anyway, bombastic age gap (reader is in her early 20’s and Joel is in his late 50s), gore imagry, religious imagry, Smut, very dubcon in theory but both want it bad, grafic smut, P in V sex (unprotected — pleaseee don’t do tis irl i beg of you), teasing, sort of edging? (idk what to call it but he doesnt fuck you until you beg for it lol). nipple play, biting biting biting!!!!!, references to domestic violence, use of pet names, manipulative! joel, stupid stupid cherub, stockholm syndrome, oral (f receiving), cum eating, pussy slapping, Joel being foul mouthed, cursing, dirty talk, overstimulation. Again, some of the most animalistic, disgustingly wretched and vile vile vile porn I have written thus far…with so little plot that this earned me my place in hell, i have my own circle now. Big Dick Joel Miller comes as his own warning.

series m.list | m.list

The danger didn't lie in his hands. It didn't sit in his closed first to be suffocated. Choked out until the life of it was compressed. Until its face was blue, then purple and its eyes were bloodshot and streaked with red. The danger lay in your heart. And it thrived off the beating.

What is ‘it’, you ask? Mania.

The Greeks had it nailed down when they split love seven different ways. To the crucifix through its punctured and bleeding palms. All equal, but different. They understood that one love is different to the other. That love can be either obsession, or lingering in the quiet parts of a person's mind. You cannot hold up a mirror to one and deceive into believing it is another. No matter how sweet the lie seeps into the ear. They don't work that way. You were not Lucifer, you had no forked tongue. And your mania wasn't Eve. There was no apple to devour. Only the strong arm of Joel Miller to cling to like a noose.

Some love passionately. Find it in the scathing friction of flesh upon flesh. The heat two bodies make only in sex. You were no body anymore. Merely a corpse for him to dig up and breathe life into whenever he needed relief. So it was not Eros. Some love playfully. In the back and forth of a conversation that makes the mind and heart float in the clouds among the soul. Entwine them together until you are too sedated to know the difference between the three pillars of personal holy trinity. There was nothing lighthearted about Joel Miller. So there was no Ludus. Affection. The subtle, it-is-there-even-when-it-is-not weight of lovers hand in lovers hand. Joel clutched your throat with his heavy hand. He didn't lace your fingers in his like tapestry threads. And he was anything but friendly. So it could never be Philia. He was not unconditional. Familial. Constant. Committed. Long lasting. Selfless. He crept in through the backdoor and took. Then slipped back out. So the thick blood red line was drawn through Storge. Agape. Pragma. The love you had was not for yourself. Without him you hated yourself. Hated how you didn’t feel needed. Or wanted. So Philautia was buried six feet under hot earth, the final nail in the coffin that was lowered into the rotting, thick-with-decaying-mulch, stenching ground. By none other than Mania.

This was something you came to realise as you stumbled from his truck back to your room. His come dribbling down your leg. Luke asleep on the sofa. Months passed of the same thing. He’d take you home from work, only letting you go once he'd had his fill. Played out the sick fantasy from mind to matter, let it bleed through his fingers into fruition. You let it happen for mania. It was the thing inside you that kept you going. Before you thought mania fed off your heartbeat. But now you realised mania fed your heartbeat. The kick it got every second fired the next muted pulse. That's what kept it alive. Energy for energy. You were never one to bite the hand that feeds. That’s a sinner's duty.

—

The usual sight of Luke slumped in his lazy boy, guzzling beer was what you expected. The liquor once again swigged past his lips and dribbling down his stubbled chin. Wiry greying hair greasy on his head, balding. Thinning. Residue from a line on the coffee table. You were never tempted by it before. And you were determined never be a Angel dust statistic like him.

Instead, you opened the flimsy door of your trailer to see him hunched over a small collapsible table. His hand running over his sunken eyes, dragging purple eye bags down with his fingertips in shame. Cards in his other. It had your breath catching in your throat like a hare in a wire snare trap. This time around the small collapsible round table. Cards in his hand. And two other men shared a knowing glance and a grim smile of satisfaction. Him.

Joel Miller.

The tension was thicker than molasses in the room. You only wished it was as sweet. You swallowed it down thickly. It stretched your throat. You watched in morbid fascination when he lay his hand on the table in a fan for all to horror at, a sly smirk slithering over his lips and curling the one corner of it up like a scorpion's tail.

“Full house.”

“Fuck!” And Luke’s hand slapped the tabletop as he folded.

The door clicked. All three looked up to see you. Luke, Joel, and the man who held a familiar resemblance to your own personal devil. With eyes on you, you felt more like that hare in the snare than ever. Clapping eyes on the hungry wolf as mutton dripped bloody from his sneer. Cruel and hungry. You imagined him as that wolf, hyde thick and bristled under your soft fingers as he led you to some deep, dark, thorny place. A place only lit by the eyes of owls who observed while he had his way with you. Ripped your stockings to get to sweet fruit.

“Great, the cunt is home.” Luke spat to the room but you, looking over the table again as he bit his thumb nervously to the edge of the hangnail. “Get me a beer.” Your nostrils flared in defiance at his demand, knuckles pale as fingers furled into a fist. An army of goosebumps had stood to attention all along your arms and the back of your neck. A shiver shattering down your spine. Your heart had enough of its prison of your ribcage in your anger, ramming into it over and over in a frantic hammering. And when that wasn't enough, you felt it in your throat. Among the tightening of your airways. “You hear me girl?” He asked, looking at you. He stood, chair scraping against the floor and you staggered back to the point your shoulderblades hit the door. While he was a thin, wiry man, he had a vicious backhand that stung. Like a vengeful aftertaste. “Y’need me to beat some sense inta ya girl, huh?!” You dared to spare a glance at Joel who was too busy collecting his winnings. You soon to be among them.

“Sorry.” You mumbled, looking to the floor and cowering off to the kitchen to get him his beer.

“Y’short, Luke.” You heard from the doorway, straining to hear the tail end of the conversation. Something about your uncle having it by monday. And then Joel telling him he shouldn’t raise a bet he doesn't have the dough to cover.

It took a second to catch your breath. Tears strung in your eyes and your chest threatened to split in two. Your sternum felt like it was cracking down the middle into clean halves under the weight of your chest. A hand clasped over your quivering lips to bite back a horrible sob and muffle it. Only your palm could know you were crying miserably. So you took a beer from the fridge, heard the hiss as the lid gave way and popped off. It clattered to the linoleum and you bared your teeth at the grating sound, picking it up and tossing it in the bin.

“Here.” You mumbled, placing it unceremoniously on the table in front of Luke.

“Y’got any spare cash on you, girl?” Luke asked, beady eyes staring you down as he raised the bottle to his lips and took a drink. You grimaced inwardly at the sight of his yellow teeth when he made a satisfied sigh.

“No.”

Joel’s brow raised. You should know by now not to lie to a man who can read you like a book. That's the thing about narcissists. They have a way of being able to understand you like a one word sentence on paper. A quick glance and you’re unravelling with concealed meaning and connotation.

“C’mon, Cherub…gotta have something from workin’ this late in that diner of yours…” You dared to challenge Joel with a look. A look that retreated soon after the advance of the glare of his eye. The same glare of the hungry wolf. Of the cheated man. It was unkind, and unyielding, and did not hold mercy upon the souls of the enthralled, the damned, or the harrowed. You might try to cross through the sentence, or turn the page. Or shut the book entirely. But the truth is still the truth even when you chose not to look. This was the man that knew your mind. Knew your body. And coaxed his will out of you each time. His word was all it took to cave, so you took the folded bills from your apron, flicking through them with a bitten back scowl,

“How much does he owe you?” Joel smiled with amusement, counting through his winnings to see what was short.

“Ninety-eight.”

‘What?” you asked, eyes wide, hurt. Disheartened. Fingers stilling halfway through the small stack. And Joel smirked.

“You heard me, Cherub.”

“Give Joel his money.” Luke warned.

“But it’s not his money! And it’s not yours to give!” You tried, and saw the warning tick of your uncle's narrow jaw. It was always set on edge before he threw a hand. Cast a palm across your cheek in a brandishing. It had you cowering. Relenting. Tossing the money in front of him. If it fell to the floor in its flurry he could pick it up and grovel about it. But Joel never grovelled. Only relished. Then reminded Luke of the money he still owed for the drugs.

And you walked back to the kitchen, biting into your lip again. With the devil and your demon in the next room over, you were sure this could be hell. A buzz filled your ears. Like the constant thrum of flies over roadkill. In festering flesh wounds where broken white of bone poked through gaping, bleeding holes. Blood matted in the hyde of the animal helpless and scattered across the road. A leg here, smashed teeth there. You were the roadkill. Joel was at the wheel of that which mowed you down. Luke was howling in the passenger side.

His boots thumped clumsily over the linoleum and he let out a huff through his nose while he adjusted his low slung jeans in the doorway.

“Cherub?” He asked, clearing his throat huskily — a consequence of the smokes he used religiously. You stood with your back to him, palms flat to the countertop and head hung low to fight the sting of tears simmering from within.

“He threatened to hit me.” You whispered, not turning to face him. If you mattered his ears would strain to meet you halfway. “And you did nothing.”

“Come on, Cherub…don't be like that.” he sighed, and you imagined him pinching the bridge of his hooked nose.

“He took my money. You took my money. How am I gonna get out of here without it?” You croaked, your tired eyes seeing faces of gaping mouths and slate black eyes in the speckled linoleum of the counter.

No reply came from the door. And when you turned it was empty. He had left. The other man had left. The tv was on again with the scream of a woman murdered. And Luke fell asleep in his lazy boy.

—

Another day, another shift. And more horror ensued. At first, what set the nerves thrumming was there was no sign of Luke. His truck was gone from its spot. No drunk slumped on the worn leather settee. No scream or grotesque image on the TV. Merely an empty bottle on the coffee table.

You swallowed, shutting the door cautiously with a muffled click of the latch. You didn't dare call his name. Just pushed it down into your stomach for it to churn the thought up in acid. But the horror jumped back up your throat into a lurid scream at the sight of your mattress tossed to the side. The moth bitten pillowcase on the floor, void of money. Your money. Gone. Someone had rifled through your belongings. Turned your only space into a mess. Strewn clothes, bed sheets, pillows in their haste. All your work. All the nights of living off bitter coffee from the pot at work, scrounging together tips. It made you seethe. The heat was an inferno at your fingertips, nails embedding crescents into your palms. You searched all over for it. But to no avail.

When Uncle Luke came home, he smelled of hard liquor. It was a miracle – or curse – he hadn't wrapped his car around a tree. He gloated, and sneered, and shoved it down your throat in his intoxication that he’d found it under the mattress. Joel had called him, told him you planned on leaving. And he connected the dots. Ransacked your room. Oh, how the man would hate his loose lips when you gave him hellfire.

You expected Luke’s reaction. You knew if he were to ever find out he’d snatch it up in his greedy, grimy hands and take it for himself. He spent all of it. Paid his debt to Joel, gambled some on bad luck bets, drank with the rest. Slugged liquor down his throat and got drunk off your labour. And then left you on your floor with tear stained cheeks and a heart of heavy lead.

You wanted your money. But would you take from the man who gave you your everything? Your sense of being. A religion and faith. You believed in nothing more than the way he held your name between his teeth. You forgot what your real name felt like in the same place. And it occurred to you that he had never said it. Did he know it? You weren't them anymore. You were Cherub.

The sweet and mourning lamb in you wanted to go over just to be his again, and not carry out the plan of taking back what was yours. That which he would see as sin. You felt guilt claw up your throat at the thought alone. It seemed blasphemous to conspire against him. Why do you insist on protecting yourself. You who was the sacrificial lamb?

If you did go – and you let him have you again – you were whole. But at what cost? Could you stand another night of temporary hell under the guise of heaven. Of touch so cold, like ivory or black ice. To have him thumb your skin with blunt endearments and the croon of ‘cherub’ past his chapped lips. Definite like black and white. No escape. What he’d do and how. Whispering them in the stone deaf shells of your ears like they were a sculpture. Pygmalion’s Bride. He’d made you all you were today. Took chisel to marble and carved out his masterpiece. Cherub.

You were soft, and pliable. Wax heated by his flame. You kissed back. You moaned for him. Begged him for his release and not your own. Bruised with his handprint. The warmth of life under flesh. But without him…you returned to marble. Another pretty thing to be gawked at. He tempted you with it because he knew more than anyone, more than god himself who watches these exchanges, that you can't live without him. It was like telling a child not to slip off to the woods in the dead of night. That was a pointless warning. You knew what lay there anyway, what threat it would be. That wolf in his thick bristled hyde. Curled up in his den. You would see it as innocence and vulnerability if you weren't so scared. But you knew when he woke up the teeth would shine again. And they’d tear flesh. Let blood. Gnash bone. Dripping from the glaring white once he finished with your carcass. Your matter between them and your crimson lacing his gums. Who knew being eaten alive could be so pleasurable.

But then again, how could bering alone really be hell if the devil wasn't there?

There is mania in your body. But you can't get it out. It rattles in your head and lungs and glues to the backs of your gnashers. No matter how much you wish to spit it out. It infects your tongue. It welds itself to the matter of your bones. Melts into the cracks between your teeth. Claggy against your tongue. All to show the sweetest of words have the bitterest of tastes. You can feel it swell underneath your skin. In the gap between muscles where it festers and heats you up. Like fever it burns, like the fire that consumes and the pillars that hold the temple up crack, the ground shakes, and the beast rears its ugly head at you. You’re losing your body to him. It's a fight you try to win. You dare to. You give your all, tooth and nail each time in the gaps between. In the silence and hollow that nestles in the middle of the meetings. In the quiet, where no one is around but the cracked plaster of your room. You stopped caring who fired the gun first. You were always the one who got shot down in the end. Right in the stomach. Blood gurgling up your throat in a grotesque plea for help.

All these weeks you had shrunk yourself to the size of a bird in his hands, sang a sweet sweet song of his name, until the squeeze of his first closest off your throat. And the sound stopped altogether. Laid there after the warning. Patient while you had your wings clipped and your freedom taken. And he took more. Took the beating of your heart with his teeth. Took the will to want. The will to love. The will to need anything else, as well as the need to have better. Below you were the foundations. Only now you saw them for what they were, a decaying mess of fragments, the stench of wood rot hot in your nose. A musk like no other. His musk. So in your anger you took an axe to a willow to see how it would weep. You slipped past the sleeping drunk you call Uncle Luke. Out the door, over gravel, past the truck he coaxed you to without the need of a sweet treat. You’d yank the axe from the bark of the weeping willow, its sob echoing in the wind that rustled its drapery of lush green leaves. Leaves that will wilt as sap bleeds from its severed trunk. Take the axe to the wolf. Cut him. Scrotum to throat.

Take back what was yours. And leave those woods skipping.

—

Your knocks descend upon his door in quick raps until he opened it with a grumble. Then a smirk. “Evenin’, Cherub.”

No salvation. No going back. No space among the clouds. Just the fall. You pushed past him into his front room. “Where is it?’ You hissed, tossing the cushions of the couch up. Nothing there. So you left them on the floor and did the same for the airchair. Nothing there either.

“Woah, calm down, girl!’ Joel huffed, reaching for your arm, which you tugged back from him in a new found strength surging you forward, out of his arms. “Where’s what?”

“My damn money, Miller!” You bit back with venom laced spit. A hunger for revenge making you salivate like a bad dog.

“The fuck you talking about?”

“You know exactly what I'm talking about, dickhead!” And he recoiled at your bared teeth, your verbal assault and battery, but went in for his own.

“Watch your damn foul language, girl!” He warned, reaching the end of his already short tether.

“You know how much he stole from me? Three hundred dollars of my hard earned chash. Forget my fucking ticket out of this shithole, I ain’t even paying rent now! And for what? Your god awful drugs!” His nostrils flared, and you watched the vein in his neck bulge under the sweltering heat of his own anger. Coiling inside him. Wounded bitch about to bite back.

“You didn’t have much of a probelm with my drugs after I fucked that pretty little hole of yours. All dumb and needy f’me, Cherub.” You grimaced at the sneer. But the feeling made your knees buckle. The name again. Cherub. You were Cherub. His cherub. “You want ya money back, huh? You can have it.”

That made you stutter. Thoughts skidding to halt at the sight of a brick wall. Crumpled matter as it smashed into it anyway. “What?”

“I ain't giving it to you for free though.”

“You're sick! It’s my fucking money!”

“Not in the eyes of the law its not.” And he folded his great oaks of arms over his chest in satisfaction. Once again one upping you.

“The eyes of the law? Says the fucking drug dealer. I bet you got way worse than coke in duffel over there. Wonder what the law would say about that?” It was said dismissively over your shoulder as you turned to leave. Alas, once again his large hand encompassed your wrist and squeezed. Pulled you back flush to his broad chest. His breath was hot on your neck as he whispered sweetly into your ear.

“Come on now, Cherub. You wouldn't do me in like that would ya? Not when I love ya…”

The way he said it…it didn't seem real. It was false. Comforting but not real. You knew it was a lie. This wasn't love. He didnt love. If he loved you he'd ask for your number then call you. Take you out. Let you cry on his shoulder and drive you home after. Kiss you in the dark for only the walls to see. Let you stay a night or two, or a whole damn week. Give you your damn money back. Stand up to Luke with a closed fist to the face. Leave swelling and a deep bruise on his cheekbone as a first and final warning.

“You love me?” You asked, voice small and hollow in your chest.

“Yeah, Cherub. I love you too.” He cooed, as if he knew you loved him already. All this and nose running over the curve of the side of your neck, tongue trailing hot in pursuit, it had you keeling over in confession at his feet. “You’re so cute when you're angry. Come on now, lemme make those tears go away…and you can have your money back, and we can forget this ever happened.” That tone…it was patronising. It made the sense in you rattle the cage of your ribs. Claw at the bars of bone and run into them like a caged animal. Because that’s what it was. A caged animal. But your heart was holding its hand over its mouth in a trance as it let his words ebb deeper. Somewhere between desperate and divine. But what was his motive?

God, Jesus, all above that is holy, you didn't care! After all this time, it was still no secret, or hushed uttering that Joel Miller was now everywhere in you. Scraping the backs of your teeth, festering like a virus in your bloodstream. Melding to the marrow of your bones. The walls of your cunt.

He still had a devastating habit of seeping through the cracks of your closed lids. Still ready to pillage and plunder his way through your head in its numbed state of sleep. When you could have finally— finally stopped and not felt. But he ebbs deeper. Always would. Always will.

It's what got you here. It would end you if it could. Snuff out your heartbeat and the fire inside of you. All he need do was lick his fingers and press them to the wick. And leave the smoke to string out and curl. You thought you were hungry for love before. But now you realised you were just hungry for the sight of your blood on his lips. The gnashing of you between his teeth. The curl you made of his brow. If it wasn’t devastating, reaping its agony in your silly little fractured chest— you didn’t dare need, nor crave it. You came for the pleasure but you stayed for the pain. And he took again, and again.

So you let him ‘make it up to you’. Let him claw at your clothes until they were scraps on the floor. Tore your stockings. Showed you those gleaming teeth. The wolf. And you, his sacrificial lamb. His Cherub.

“Feel that?’ He asked, with the slow drag back and forth of him inside you, parting you. This wasn’t fast, or rough. This was slow. And it made you need more. Need it faster. Need him hurtling you towards the edge of harrowing oblivion. He knew that. It’s why he took his time with it this time around. “Yeah. You do.” Joel answered for you. You never had to answer. But often he made you say it from your own quivering lips. Just to have the taste of the words from your tongue bleed into his. The neverending praise. “Why would you wanna leave that Cherub?” You couldn't answer, only let out a soft sob. “Huh? Answer me, Cherub. Why’d you wanna fuckin’ leave that?” And he punctuated it with pulling out to the bulbous head of his clock, then slamming back in with one sharp thrust. And then he was still.

You whined a shallow gasp into his mouth. But he didn’t kiss you. Joel never kissed you. His teeth sinking into your bottom lip shut you right up before his tongue delved deeper into it. The thumb of the hand that slithered between your legs rolled over your clit, making you mewl over the buzz of electricity causing you to clamp down on his thick, full cock. You were so eager for more. Anything more than what he was giving you. He smirked into your mouth when he felt your hips buck forward, trying your damn hardest to push his cock deeper into you. Silly little cherub. You should know better than to defy God. “See? Felt good didn’t it?” You nodded as much as you could in your current piston.

“Mhm.”

“See what you can have if you stay. Why fight it cherub?”

“Yes, Joel.”

“You gonna listen then, Cherub?”

“Yes. Yes! I’ll listen, just-” You shuddered at the thought of it, tears brimming at the the threshold of your eye. ”Please.”

“Say it.” He waited, wanting you to beg for it in the pretty way he knew you could. The choir voice. The songbirds hymn. The whole time his eyes did nothing but stare you down hungry at the sight of you falling apart from nothing but a hand to your throat and a single his throbbing dick buried in your aching cunt. It all pooled down into your centre, creating a rush your head had trouble keeping up with. “Tell me why you wanted to leave.”

“I dunno-” You stuttered, once again rolling your hips up. His hand at your throat pressed into your skin again, harder. It choked you. It had you drawing in a sharp, meagre breath. And he pulled out, running the underside of himself through the hot, drooling seam of your cunt. You shivered when the tip brushed up to your clit momentarily. The bead of precome at his slit smearing into your sex, mixing with your slick. “I dunno, Joel. I- I just wanted my money. I just wanted out. I hate it.” You babbled through closed eyes, chest heaving with sobs, and hot tears ran thick down your flushed cheeks.

“You hate it, huh?” He mocked and crooned, still catching your clit with the tip of his cock, hips waxing and waning in a slow roll. “You hate me too?” He knew the answer. But again, it was the satisfaction of knowing you were wrapped around his finger. Ready to bend over backwards for him. Him seeping into you through the cracks of your ribs, the gaps between your teeth. The opening of yourself to the twisting knot of denial within you. Your back arched like the lofty roof of a chapel, legs parting like its heavy doors. He followed you with hunger. You opened your mouth to speak but he squeezed momentarily on your throat again, oxygen starvation and the smell of him dizzying you. He relished in the whimper that he garnered from you. That and how he left you breathless just from his cruel touch.

“No.” You garbled as his thumb unhinged your jaw. Saliva in your mouth pooling while his thumb pressed your tongue down, bitter with a smokers telltale tobacco staining. It slipped past your lips, dribbled down his digits making a sticky mess at the curve of his thick wrist. He drew up a glob of saliva in his throat, watching as it drooled thickly, gluttonously, past his lips into your waiting mouth. He watched as you gagged on it, and then he let your jaw go so you could close your mouth. You swallowed eagerly, savouring the taste on your tongue. For what did it matter anymore? One day, you’ll be nothing but dust. Bronchioles in lungs will mimic roots. Navels will copy trunks. Organs will feed worms. Ribs will fossilise and lips that are kissed will mould back to Mother Nature. It's all you have ever been. Quick. Convenient. Easy to please, eager to help. Waiting lips, wanting cunt. Warm, never warm enough. But he kept you like a butterfly in a glass jar. He let you see freedom but never experience it. Why need it when you had the stretch of him inside you. The feeling of him, heat to heat with your sex.

“You want this, cherub? Wanna be stuffed full of me again?”

“Always wanted it, Joel.” You mumbled into his mouth, sniffing back the last this spurt of tears, hypnotised. His hand wrapped around his cock, the large splay of his palm did nothing to dwarf its size with he jacked himself once, twice, three times to the sight of you. He squeezed the base with hiss, pulling his bottom lip between his teeth after cursing under his bated breath. He was thick, flushed, the tip swollen and leaking, drooling greedily with a rivulet of precum down the underside of his length. He trod a path with his hands down to your breasts, kneading each one between his palms with a pinch before guiding himself back into the mouth of your heat, your cunt swallowing him down to the base. The needy roll of your hips into his showed just how desperate you were. He groaned at the start of the friction between you, and slowly dragged back out of you, moving just as slowly back inside. He repeated this twice, and then he let loose. The motion turned into a needy clash of his hips to yours. Again. Again. Again. Somewhere along the sting of passion and heat, his hand wrapped around your throat, feeling the flex of it as you swallowed under his palm. He bit down into your neck, reaching out from you as his hips slammed erratically. His heavy balls slapping against your ass with each rut forward of his unrelenting. The way he fucked you, was like holding a knife to your throat. It grounded you in the most harrowing way to each of his breaths. His panting in your ear. It swallowed you whole. Mad your legs wrap around his waist and your hips keen up into him.

Your cunt drooled down his shaft, down to the base, down the sensitive skin of his cock. He growled and hissed in your ear, teeth closing around your earlobe, his hand dragging back up and grip tightening around your neck. Getting off on the feeling of your pulse under his thumb.

You felt the knot tighten. And tighten. Right in the pit of your stomach, deep in your sopping wet cunt where the mouth of your cervix met his fucking. The walls of your cunt sucking him back in as the angle of his hips snapped up into the spot that had you seeing entire constellations. They darted to and fro across your vision. It blurred the edge, spots of dark matter, deep black, the colour of oblivion slinging over the back of your eyes that now burned with tears of pleasure. His fingers dug deeper into malleable flesh, gripped tightly at your hip with his free hand, thumb brushing over your hip bone down your mound to toy with your clit after a slap to it. And it was the action that sent you spiralling, babbling his name nonsensically among a string of curse words. So pretty and fucked out beneath him. Joel couldn’t help but stare smugly as your eyes rolled back into your head when your orgasm hit like a freight train. He came undone soon after, his climax hitting a crescendo with a growl bitten into your shoulder, bruising and brandishing you with his mark again.

He pulled back, leaving you to the mercy of the cold. Watching was his hips moved again to fuck his release back into you. Your hole quivered in protest, and you squirmed under him. “Don’t be fucking ungreatful now, Cherub.” You relented, going still and boneless on the mattress. Limbs unfurling from their tension. “That's it. Take it. Take it all.” He groaned smoothly. Just like the roll of his hips. He fucked it slowly back into you. And you took his release inside you to keep. “Good girl, Cherub.” He whispered, kissing your lips in a tender dichotomy. Not letting you rest until he was satisfied you took every drop of him. Afterall, it was all you’d have left of him until he next chose to pick you up. All the while, he trailed his tongue back down to your breasts, pressing the flat of it to your nipple, drawing it with a sharp suck into his mouth. Pressing the blunt of his teeth into your flesh. Letting the taste melt on his tongue. Salty with your sweat. He did the same to the others. When he went soft inside of you, and his hips stilled. He slipped out of you with hitched breath, the pad of his fingertips tracing your abused, used sex. Your legs twitching when he rolled your clit under two fingers. “I said stop squirming.” He grunted, landing another slap to your pussy. It made an obscene wet sound. His come dribbling out slowly.

“Open your mouth.” Joel commanded, and you did. Waiting for whatever he had planned. He licked a hot strip from your asshole to your cunt, pressing his tongue in to drag out some of his release. And he climbed back up to spit it into your mouth. A hand clamping down on your jaw. “Don’t swallow. Close your mouth.” And you did with the side of his thumb clamping it shut for you. “Taste that?” You nodded in response. It was hot, heavy and thick and salty to taste. Divine. “Show me.” You opened again, his creamy spend diluted amongst your saliva and he smirked. Clamping your jaw shut again. “Swallow.”

Joel watched in open mouthed amusement as the delicate column of your throat rippled under muscle contract. “Good girl, Cherub. Remember that taste next time y’feel like leaving again.” He warned in a growl. And you nodded, swallowing your pride. Your fear. Your mania aiding in shoving it down your throat to dissolve in acid. Once again you were in those deep dark woods. The one where the wolf lay. Remnants of you in his teeth. The willow is still weeping, slashed in half. The axe free of his bloodshed by the entrance of his den. The owls' eyes still lit the scene of sin where overhead the starlight was snuffed out by the tangle of branches thick in their black greenery.

You never got your money back. Maybe one day you'd get out of this town. But the devil has a funny habit of making you want your own suffering. Even angels can’t resist a slice of that heaven. Fallen angel. Wounded bitch. Cherub.

147 notes · View notes

yourbonesarenowmycoat · 2 months

Text

Tubbo's response to Wilbur's tweet, via @thefloatie on X.

Transcript:

[I was waiting] for Wilbur to say anything about anything, and...

I was informed about this a few minutes before going live, so forgive me if I don't have my thoughts 100% clear in my head, but I read through it, and, like, bro. (shakes head)

I- it made me so angry. I actually couldn't fucking believe it. I didn't- I'm like, holy shit. Sorry, it's getting me fucking- you don't- Chatters, you don't need to spam fuckin' hearts, bro. Knock that shit off.

No, all I'm saying is, like, look. You might think I have a very biased perspective when it comes to this kind of stuff. No. But like, truth be told, the amount of times I've spoke to Wilbur in private could be counted on maybe two hands, and, um... Yeah, I'm not biased in this. I think that response was fucking vile, and like, how the hell can you make... like... How the hell can this be about you, bro?

Like, I literally don't wanna say - I wanna make something very clear. If anyone in this channel or any viewer in this stream -

(Chipi Chipi Chapa Chapa starts playing) Fucking hell! Can I have three seconds? (music stops)

If any chatter in this stream or any person in this community ever thinks about defending domestic abuse or anything like that, or anything in that vein, or anything that fucking serious, you have no place here, and I want you to unfollow, and I want you to leave.

And I really highly suggest, if you want the full context, go watch Shelby's VOD, because this is literally not about me. This isn't about anyone else but Shelby. So go watch that, alright? And yeah.

And also if you want more context, I know Lexie did a stream as well, which provided a lot more context... No, I... yeah.

I just wanted to get that out there, alright? And make my position very, very well known. But again, it's not about me, alright? And I can't make that clear enough. And I think that response was so fucking unbelievable, and was like, holy shit. Holy shit. There is zero redeemable qualities. There is no even 1% that will give the benefit of the doubt. Like, that's... yeah.

#abuse tw #wilbur situation #tubbo #tubbo clips #transcribed

84 notes · View notes

starlight-bread-blog · 2 months

Note

Katara made it very clear that she never ever wants to see Yon Rah again and most of the Zutara fandom supports that decision of hers.

So I guess the possible downside of Katara choosing to marry Zuko means sharing Zuko's burden of reforming and rehabilitating depraved war criminals like Yon Rha and all those who are even worse than him.

Then there's this whole thing with Aaron Ehasz imagining Zuko being Azula's Iroh and she reforms in that way along with my and a few other's ideas of Aang showing her how open and master her own chakras. Speaking of Iroh, does anyone remember his ruthless and brutal 600-day siege anymore? There's no way he'd avoid dropping bodies that whole time.

Looks like Katara will ironically be taking Aang's advice about forgiveness after all but I don't think it'll be necessary for Katara to look for Yon Rah again and say so.

What do you think?

Tw: War crimes, genocide and nazism.

Disclaimer: I don't know what actually happened post canon. I tried to look on internet forums and it seems as the topic wasn't addressed in the comics. For this answer, I'm going under this assumption.

Sorry for not getting to this sooner, life got busy and I didn't want to give some half assed answer to such a delicate topic. There's a lot to comment on so I'll break this down step by step.

"Katara choosing to marry Zuko means sharing Zuko's burden of reforming and rehabilitating depraved war criminals"...

The fire nation commited atrocious war crimes, leaving them with with many war criminals. War crimes are more than punishable. If it were real life, neither Katara or Zuko would have to reform and rehabilitate any of them.

An example of this would be the Nuremberg trials after WW2. Even recently, in 2022, Irmgard Furchner (an 98 year old women) faced a trial for being a secretary of a concentration camp (to put it lightly, she was very much a murderer). No one is getting away with their actions.

I read the relevant section from a Red Cross's document titled "Analysis of the punishments applicable to international crimes (war crimes, crimes against humanity and genocide) in domestic law and practice". (The section being "States’ obligations under IHL to prosecute and punish international crimes").

I found something interesting. (ID in alt text).

*Grave breaches are more serious, vile violations of humananitarian law. Everything above applies to "genocide and crimes against humanity".

If Katara were in a position of power in the Fire Nation, not only would she not have to reform anyone, she also might get to help with the trials for them.

"Then there's this whole thing with Aaron Ehasz imagining Zuko being Azula's Iroh"

I don't know about his plans for Aang's other ideas, so I can't comment on them. What I did find was a short thread of his. And after reading it, I maintain that – like most ideas – his vision can work with sensitive execution.

Azula was still very much a 14 year old victim of grooming when the series took place. Her brother can help her through her redemption under one condition – the desire to be better should come from her.

He shouldn't sit through any mistreatment whatsoever. He'll guide her through a path he already went through, but she has to walk with him. Azula needs to be safe for Zuko. Only then, redemption would be possible.

"does anyone remember [Iroh's] ruthless and brutal 600-day siege anymore?"

The difference between Iroh and Yon Rah is what they're up to now. In the present Yon Rah is just some guy living with his mother. Meanwhile Iroh took back Ba Sing Se from Fire Nation colonizers.

Yon Rah isn't out here fixing his mistakes, he just got off scot-free. On the other hand, Iroh is a changed man and took action to correct his past on the same scale.

At the end of the day redemtion isn't Aang's idea. It's one of the major themes of Atla. It wants to show that people can change and grow. So it does. Zuko changes, Mai changes, Ty Lee changes, and Iroh is their future.

He tried to conquer Ba Sing Se, and now he took it back from conquerors. He was the worst of them all, and now he's unrecognizable. He's warm, wise and sweet. There's a meaning to it.

That doesn't mean that war criminals in the current day, scums who made no affort, will get away with their crimes. That doesn't mean Katara would have to go through the mental torture of reforming her colonizers.

That is it! I hope I didn't come off as aggressive, I didn't mean to. Thank you for the ask, sorry for taking me forever to write this, and have a lovely day!

110 notes · View notes

dballzposting · 2 months

Text

It's just that well simply put Gohan didnt have any time to himself ever. There was always bullshit happening. Then Goku died and Goten was born and Gohan had to keep his mother from falling apart and his baby brother healthy and happy. And it's rewarding work. But yknow

When he wasn't tending to the baby or helping with other domestic chores, he was in his room studying. It's nice to learn about the world he fought so hard to save. It's also nice to not have to have a relationship with his body (as with fighting) so that it's easier to dissociate from all the bullshit. Academia was a lifeline out. It was also a definitive "good" thing to be doing. It was also an escape. And also a source of the stress that he's so accustomed to. And yknow. Maybe the letters started to dance on the page after a while. A life unlived will find life in other places. Maybe the historical figures were his friends. Maybe he memorized chemicals like one would memorize constellations. Maybe different mathematical functions began to represent and facilitate different experiences of emotion. You know how it is

I mean maybe not. Maybe he got out enough and was present enough to not dip into that. If his time alone was really that needed, then I imagine that he would get angry if interrupted; but I don't imagine that he snapped often when his mother called him to attention or when his brother needed something from him. I think that he finds fulfillment and peace in his family and he wants to be there with them. But I think that he also finds habits of repression or self-denial.

I'm not saying that he represses all of his anger, because he doesn't. What he does repress is infinite amounts of survival rage. What he doesn't repress - and what seems like he's not even aware of when he expresses it - is sharp annoyance. A mild example would be when he snapped at Goten for bothering him during his training, which was super funny. A more poignant example is Every Time Somebody Insults his Great Saiyaman Persona somehow. First he was interjecting into his classmates' (strangers!) conversation to correct their misnaming of the new hero, and he didn't seem to notice how rude his tone was or how surprised his classmates were. Then later he stopped two reckless drivers, and they made fun of his goofy persona, and Gohan (without resistance) just threw a petulant fit - and he did not seem to notice how he was Destroying The Road by stamping his foot.

My favorite example was when Krillin told him he looked dumb. I should probably get screenshots. Gohan's Eyebrows Twitched and Reared like Rattlesnakes. And his passive aggression was enough to constituent manslaughter. Masked behind saccharine positivity. It was a vile display. What do YOU know about Fashion, Quiverin..! (<- What we sometimes call Krillin in my house becasue he's always cringing and quivering and being fearful lol.)

OK I didn't get screenshots but I have this timestamped video from the youtube.

youtube

And it makes sense that Gohan is super defensive about The Great Saiyaman. It's the first thing that he's gotten to do/be that was up to him.

I understand that Bulma designed the original get-up, but it was still collaborative; it's not like when Chichi dresses him in what she can afford to buy or make, or when Piccolo dresses him in what he himself likes to wear. And Gohan picked the name. He picked the poses. He picked the voice. He picked the personality. He picked the role.

You know that Oscar Wilde quote that goes something like "give a man a mask and he will tell you the truth"? Yeah. There's madness behind that mask.

It's also a very significant time for him because he's for the first time having the opportunity to associate with peers in a consistent way. And he wants so bad to be "normal" and that's also why the mask is so integral and alluring. And he wants to be a normal bloke and make normal friends, but at the same time, he's out of practice without really realizing it; he hasn't come to terms with how in order to make friends, you have to put yourself out there. He thinks that he can simply make friends while hiding himself and lying about everything. And when Videl starts trying to figure out who he is and pry the mask off, it's a horrifying inconvenience. And Gohan just isn't in the habit of receiving well others' companionship, having lived isolated for so long; when Videl makes him teach her how to fly, he's nice to her, but you can tell that he just wants her to leave.

Her insistence on drilling into him is why they become friends and eventually marry, though.

He seems like an optimistic fellow, and his appreciate for life must be sincere, as his history necessitates it - if life sucked, all of that would have been for nought. But remember, for a good seven years it was just him, his mother, and the new baby. No drama or adventure to bring him out into the world. No friends his age that he could connect and evolve with. Just him up there on Mt Paozu stagnating.

There was definitely a lot of goodness and happiness and stargazing and lovely dinners and hanging out with dinosaurs. But there was also a lot of boredom and avoidance and why-is-the-baby-crying and mom-please-put-the-wooden-spoon-down and mom-please-stop-crying and can-i-have-the-time-to-study-unbothered-please and an undercurrent of feeling bogged down that really isn't apparent until you get out and get moving.

Gohan never says this outloud or thinks this definitively, but it's a natural truth, like the wood that a house is made of - he is going to do everything he can to be a good brother and to protect his baby brother. And it's a given, too, that he'll do everything it takes to keep his mother sane and happy, because everybody else shies away from her, and it's SORT OF Gohan's fault that Goku had died, and he very much wants to give back for all of the nurturing that his mother has given him.

And when you want to be a force of Good that badly, it completely turns you away from the parts of you that may be Bad, and encourages you to be afraid of certain feelings or needs.

When Gohan snaps at people out of irritability or defensiveness, it really seems like he doesn't know that he's doing it, and it comes out in the way that a hurt child may just act out. Everything else that is ugly about him just gets buried deep. And that makes him a weirdo. That's what it seems like anyway

#dballz posting #Youtube

55 notes · View notes

bugs1nmybrain · 5 months

Note

Have you heard the song “give your heart a break” by Demi Lovato imagine that as a cute love story for Shigaraki with the female reader?

(I was thinking about just using the song as a story title and then use your imagination and get creative with whatever you choose and just have fun with it?😅)

Give Your Heart a Break - a soft Tomura Shigaraki x fem!reader series

CHAPTER 1 (Minors Don't Interact)

You can read Chapter 2 here.

Notes: You asked for a love story, and you're getting a love story XD. I plan for this to be a continuing series. No overarching goal with this series, just a sweet story about how Shigaraki fell hard for the reader. It will be messy! Shigaraki is not a healthy guy and would be a vile boyfriend, but I will make this as fluffy as possible. Underneath all that homicidal rage is just a boy who was never loved. This is admittedly a very, "I can fix him," kind of story lmao.

Summary: First encounter between Shigaraki and the reader. The whole chapter is literally Shiggy freaking out in GameStop because you walked in and you're so pretty and he wants to talk to you but doesn't know how.

Warnings will come and go as each chapter comes out.

Warnings: The canon of BNHA is altered; quirks still exist but Shigaraki is more of a domestic gang leader than a domestic terrorist lmao. NSFW (no sex in this chapter), Shigaraki is a creep, fluff, blue-haired Shigaraki (season 4ish), CHEESY, Shigaraki hears voices and has very loud intrusive thoughts (they are highlighted in blue and red), POV swings, CLIFFHANGER

Notes about Reader's Appearance and Personality: HEAVILY based off of me. She's shy and polite up front but silly and vulgar with people close to her. She is short and a little thicc. Alternative clothing style and she's messy looking. She is a gamer! She is insinuated to be Shigaraki's age (20), maybe even older. She likes anime! She has crooked teeth.

Tomura wasn't unlike other 20-year-old men in that he found himself checking out girls from time to time. He usually didn't do more than look in his peripheral vision, actually, love and romance and even sex were all things Tomura wasn't acquainted with. There's no way someone so twisted could ever be loved.

Tomura loved giving off the impression that he needed nobody. Even in the League, he isolated a lot while the other members would be doing something together. He'd retreat to his own room and play games or plan out operations, but sometimes he'd retreat so that he could cuddle up with his favorite body pillow and just lay there.

He'd probably kill anyone who ever found out about it, but he was starving for love. To be touched, held, kissed. For someone to play with his hair and be comfortable around him. Everyone's so afraid of him, and that's a good thing! However, sometimes he just wished he had someone, just ONE person who wanted his company. Someone to listen to him rant for hours about how much he hates heroes, someone to play games with, someone to make love to, or someone to just hold for comfort when he was stressed.

He'd commit mass genocide if anyone knew he'd had imaginary girlfriends.

Now, a big scary bad guy like Tomura could get a girlfriend, right?? Just use those scare tactics, hold her by the throat with one finger up, and tell her she has no option but to love him. Steal her, hide her, keep her to himself? Sure, the fantasy was a little hot to him, and he could so easily do it. Tomura didn't want that though. As possessive as he is, he wanted to be loved. Not feared. He's feared plenty.

He'd kill if anyone knew how much pain he's in every time he sees a cute couple walk into GameStop. It pisses him off so bad. Why can't he have that?

"Well, doi, Shigaraki. You're a murderer, a psychopath, and a villain. Just one touch and it's over. What girl is going to want your hands all over her?"

"Whatever."

Shigaraki was currently at GameStop looking for a video game he'd been wanting to play. He picked the game and came up with a few fingers, turning it the other way around to read the details. As he was reading, he heard a ding from the door, meaning someone was entering the store. Shigaraki always looked when it went off because he could never be too sure that some hero bounty hadn't tracked him down. He looked over to the door, expecting it to be nothing special.

Whatever Tomura was feeling right now started in his eyes. Goodness, you were so...colorful. Not even! It was funny, considering you were wearing mostly black. However, your pretty hair that was put up in pigtails and your sharp black eyeliner made you stand out like a sore thumb.

You were little, too. Tomura looked in comparison as you stood at the door, seeing that you were only around the 5' mark on the height scale.

The feeling started going to his brain now. You stepped closer and closer to the store, your pumped boots making you seem all big (even tho ur're small), bad, and mysterious. He worried you were going to walk over to his area, but you made a beeline toward the anime section.

"Hehe weeb."

Tomura didn't want to stand out, so he just stayed put, looking at games he was never going to play. He didn't even read the labels, he merely pretended to so he could observe you. He saw the other losers in the store eyeball you, too. That made him wanna kill them for some reason. He wanted to get a proper look at you, but he didn't want you to know that he was blatantly creeping on you. Even if he just looked at you, you'd probably leave the store like that. After all, he was wearing a black hoodie and the parts of his face that were visible were his rather creepy features. He'd scare you off.

He's planned some pretty crazy missions before, surely he could gather intel on you in your short time in GameStop, right?

He wanted a better look at you, so he switched from the PS area to the T-shirts. He even pretended to do a little "aha" at the shirts to make it seem like he wasn't purposely there so he could see you better. When he could get a solid look, though, he instantly needed to know everything about you.

Goodness, he's a simp, huh? You were just so goshdarn cute. Sure, he saw gothic and alt girls around the mall all the time. You looked a bit silly, though. Your makeup wasn't bad, but it was messy. Your hair could probably use some brushing too. You held a phone that had a case of some anime guy, though he didn't know which one.

"Hehe weeb."

Fuck, you were heading his way. He didn't know if he should leave before you were near him or just stay. You kept your distance anyway, as you were standing very far off to the side. Surely, you weren't able to get a good look at the shirts. He stepped back, hoping that you'd be able to tell he was giving you room. You smiled and said, "thank you," going to step forward.

Now the feeling was going to his nuts.

Now that you were in front of him, he got a nice view of the back of you. Not only could he see up close how small you really were, but he got a great view of your more intimate areas. He could tell from your skirt that you had wide hips and thick thighs, which made him pop a tiny smirk while you weren't looking.

"Grab her."

Oh, come on, not now.

Stupid fucking voices. Though, they had a point. She's small and seems polite enough to manipulate. She's thick but probably isn't that heavy in the grand scheme of things. Alone. And she ain't getting nowhere in those shoes.

While his voice distracted him, you had managed to end up at the registrar with a t-shirt in your hand. Tomura didn't really think as he bolted over behind you, he wasn't ready for you to leave. He already had his game that he had to buy so it wasn't like he was in line for no reason.

The feeling started going into his blood. He felt hot, and it was because of the stupid cashier making jokes with you and being friendly. Your laugh. He could tell it was fake, but you were so warm?

"Pet her hair."

Wow, ok, Tomura thought. Sometimes they'd say very bizarre things. Voices were confusing because he could never tell if they were deep-seated desires of his or if his brain just purposely wanted to fuck him over.

She started to pull out her wallet to pay but ended up dropping something. It landed right at Tomura's feet, so he bent down to grab it. A debit card!

"I'm sorry," you laugh nervously.

Tomura made sure to read your name intently before handing it back to you.

"No worries, hah. Guess I got to be somebody's hero today," he joked. Fuck. That was a bad joke wasn't it?

"That'd be the first time a hero has done anything helpful for me, then, haha."

...!

"That was a jab at heroes, wasn't it?" He thought. Now the feeling was in his chest. Maybe he's running with too little information but that sounded like an "I hate heroes," joke. Oh, now he's really got to know you.

"Yeah, maybe if they got off all those stacks they make they'd actually save a life, huh?"

"Hehe! You get it!"

You were smiling at him. And laughing. But not the fake laugh you gave the cashier. Your cheeks also flushed up as you giggled at his insult to hero society and he even got to see your teeth. Crooked, like his. He felt paralyzed, being able to look at you without sneaking it this time.

"I like your hair," you said to him.

Shit. He didn't even notice his hoodie fell off when he grabbed your card. Hopefully, the shopkeeper didn't know what "Shigaraki" was supposed to look like.

"I don't see many guys with blue hair like yours."

His eyes lit up when you said that. He may have even felt a small blush creep on his cheeks. Tomura knew he had an ugly face, one that made people whisper and steadily move away from him. But you complimented his hair instead of getting creeped out by him. "Really?"

"Yea. I like it a lot. Most people go for dark blue, but your color is prettier."

Pretty?!

He could swear that he can see you flustered. Is he making you blush? He didn't even do anything but have blue hair.

"Sorry, that was weird," you stammer, realizing that the word "pretty" could've offended him.

"Oh, no. You're fine! I like your hair too, the way you styled it is cute," he beams, hoping to earn some flirting points. You flashed him an adorable smile back, so he must've struck a chord.

"Ma'am, I don't mean to interrupt, but there's a line," the cashier says, getting your attention.

"Oh, right."

The way your voice shot down maybe two octaves was so funny to Tomura. You were so bubbly and flustered with him and yet so dry and indifferent with this guy. You were so interesting already. It's a good thing he made sure to remember the name on that card. Your name fits you so well, too.

You paid for your shirt and started leaving the store. Fuck, no! He didn't want you to go just yet.

"Stop her."

"Grab her."

"Tell her she's hot."

"jesus christ shut the fuck up!" Tomura mutters to himself as quiet as he could. He was trying so hard to think of how to get your attention again, but before he could, you had already been no where to be found.

"Stupid short bitch, I'll find you."

He may have thought of that one voluntarily.

#shigaraki x reader #shigaraki tomura #shigaraki tomura x reader #tomura shigaraki x reader #tomura shigaraki #shiggy x reader

112 notes · View notes

fatuismooches · 7 months

Note

whats up pookie bear

I KNOW KNOWWWW I JUST SENT IN LIKE. SO MUCH FUCKING ASKS and im guilty im sorry feel free to ignore for a while them if you're getting annoyed 👍. but anways it's time for me to be annoying for the last time because i will hide away in shame 😭😭😭😭

i dont think people talk enough how dottore being in love, or his thoughs when he's in love or whatever.

LIKE YEAH, they've talked about it. but i wanna really just. IDK... more like, how i view it LMAOOO 💀💀

i just like to think that, there's just instances where he's so fucking in love with you, and that oh, he really needs you in his life and if you leave him it'd be like a shot through the heart. like he'd never be whole again, you know?

HEAR ME OUT,,😭😭

deep in his heart, he hopes you're not afraid of him, you know? that you're not like the rest of them—whispering behind his back, giving him fearful looks when he hasn't done anything. he's do grateful that you see him as a friend, not some fucking freak like everyone makes him to be. but monsters get treated like one, so when his village started grabbing pitchforks n torches, telling him to leave and go away,,, his eyes immediately looked for you amongst the crowd,,,, to see if you were one of them,, afraid of something they didn't understand,, something they didn't care to understand,,, n it was probably the first time he has ever truly felt fear, his heart pounding as he tries to dodge the fire being thrown at him, heat licking his skin,,, but then he sees you, looking around frantically with a bag on your shoulder,, and when you see him, you grabbed his hand and ran away together,, running and running as far as you could,,,

n honestly, all zandik could think about is how your hand fits so perfectly in his... intertwined,, feeling the texture of your hand as you ran together into the unknown...

thinking about how domestic you two were back at the akademiya n how living alone with you was so much better. he felt soo light on his feet when you're around, like youre constantly bringing him up to the clouds... he's so used to people giving him dirty looks, but you?? oh gods you just look at him so kindly, like he hasn't done things that the akademiya deems immoral and forbidden. as if he hasn't shown you his ideas that would be vile and inhumane to others,, u smile, n you laugh, and suddenly he finds himself thinking about how much you brighten your shared dorm room when you smile,, and how much he has grown to adore it,, he wanna hold your face to feel how your muscles flex and contracts whenever you smile and talk to him. he wants to count your teeth and feel them on his fingertips,, and it may be odd to others, but oh this.. this just means he's super into you. like he wants to study the entirety of your being,,. n its all because he's so curious and interested,, he wanna know more about you,,,he'd have xrays of you, memorizing your bone structure and how they all look individually n thinks its romantic when he digs his fingers onto your skin n tell you what bone he's feeling.

he compares it to when you cook for him 😭💗 like how you know all his favorites, and how he wants his food to be cooked, what temperature, texture and flavor,, like baby no, its not. but hey, its zandik and he's really trying hard to be romantic in his own way.

he thinks you're so pretty when you speak up for yourself, unlike him, who'd rather stay silent because he needed to keep a low profile after his offenses to the akademiya. you're not scared of getting your hands dirty, especially for zandik. you didn't fight a senior without a good reason (they were calling zandik a freak). and he loves how the dark crimson of the senior's blood smeared all over your reddening, and bruising knuckles looked. n as much as he loves seeing you smile, he loves the way your brows furrow in anger, eyes sharp as you punch your senior in his face,, and he feels goosebumps forming on his forearms when you grab on his collar and yell profanities at hi,,, n then when you look at zandik to check if he's okay, he's zoned out, but he's staring at you with flushed cheeks and heart in his eyes,, n he thinks ur sooo cute when you get flustered because of it, laughing sheepishly and rubbing the back of your neck. u get suspended for a few days n zandik was absent until you were able to go back to classes.

or when you go for expeditions w/o him cuz youre in diff darshans,, it feels so empty w/o you, and he can't imagine a life w/o you at that point. he gets so unmotivated and he's suddenly he's counting the ways, hours, minutes, and seconds until you're back>.. n when you extend for a week longer??? oh he's wallowing in pain and misery cuz ur not there to yell at him for not having a proper sleep schedule, or to remind him to eat at least twice or once a day, or to tell him that he's your pretty bf and that you love him, or there to hold him, or listen to him rant about his research...,, w/o you his life feels like a constant itch he can't scratch for some reason and he HATTTESS how being in love with you makes him feel so stupid like. w/o you, no distractions,!! he can do his research without you nagging but,, he misses it sooo soo much!!,, (he never tells you he misses you, but it's so obvious by the way he clings onto you so tightly when you finally cuddle after weeks of separation or how he refuses for you to leave his side for more than a minute, or if you have another expedition to do ,,, he'd literally fight the people telling you to join or his professors lMAOOO

it feels nice to just, look onwards and know that you'll be right behind him,, because you'd always have his back,, and after years and years of being with him and teaching him how to love,, he's proud to say that he'd do the same with you!

literally has piles and piles of research papers thats either all about you (your vitals, his notes of his observations (which is literally just talking about you like a love sick girl would in her diary about her crush), and probably other notes to keep an eye on your health), or himself (why he feels this way, what is the effects, etc etc). and he can never get a clear answer really,, all he does is observe, and think,, because fuck, no matter how hard he tries, loving you has to be one of the things he will never figure out,, you he doesn't have to, you know? you always tell him that, but he's a scholar, he has to! so the files pile up higher and higher... he's so endearing like that idk about you 😭😭😭

so happy you're with him in the fatui. i dont think he could handle his descent to madness w/o you in his life 😭💗

okay so i just ended up rambling 😡nvm LMAOO 😭😭💔 anyways uhh my head started hurtnng so thats alll HAVE A GOOD DAY SMOOCHES,, finally fluff for you

Kai thought he could drop this absolute masterpiece and we wouldn't notice 💀 LITERALLY SHUSHH OH YM GOSH THIS IS SOOOO GOOD I WAS SMILING SO HARD LIKE AN IDIOT HRAHHHH DDBJWDND COME BACK RN YOU'RE NOT ANNOYING. Because omfg,,, you're literally being so real right now, we need to talk about how much Dottore is in love with you, sure he can frequently be a rude ass sometimes but don't let that fool you into thinking he's not down bad for you... i just know that he's literally completely and utterly obsessed with every part of you. IBDWUIDWUD FUCK YOU WORDED WHAT I THINK SO PERFECTLY. There's a reason why he's so possessive over you. Why even when you two get into arguments, even if they take long af to resolve because he's also hella stubborn, they're going to get fixed eventually. Among other things. It's because he really does need you there by his side and if he didn't have you he doesn't know what the hell he would do. (Or his segments. No work would be done.) HEARING YOU OUT LOUD AND CLEAR POOKIE.

Oh gosh yes, it hurts my heart to think child Zandik would have to think such depressing thoughts but mhm. He definitely does. He's only a child. He can't help but worry. Sure you're his friend, sure he repeats all the times you were nice and kind to him in his head, but sometimes it does little to reassure him of your intentions. Maybe you're just as scared of him like everyone else and this is just some elaborate game you're playing with him. Though Zandik knows it's not true, he knows you're sincere, but every now and then the idea pops up in the back of his mind and it takes ages to get it out again. But on that day when everything changed, when nothing would be the same ever again all those thoughts immediately bubbled back up to the surface and Zandik wondered if this would be the end of the two of you. If this would be the time when you finally showed your true colors. And despite the world being against him he found that you were still with him, without an ounce of hesitation present in you. Despite everything, he felt relief.

Oh my gosh i love writing and reading the crazy unethical completely undomestic doctor man as being domestic with you. As time goes on and further away from that event, he would feel significantly more relaxed. You two would fall into a sort of routine, attending classes and doing group projects, whining about professors and ending the day off with you falling asleep to Zandik's tinkering in the background, and of course the research expeditions you two do together. I also believe the word "home" doesn't have any meaning to him nor does he care for it for obvious reasons, he doesn't consider anywhere his "home" nor does he have an emotional connection to it, but... with you, he feels the most comfortable, which is something. But that's what home is anyway, isn't it? And though he'll never say or perhaps even realize it, you'll always be the first to accept that Zandik is your home, the two outcasts who were thrown out together who have nothing but each other.

REALLLL i love how we all just agree that a part of his love language is just like, inspecting and examining you. Zandik wants to know every inch of your body better than you know it yourself. Yea it's a bit strange when he brings up a beauty mark on your body that you didn't even know you had yourself or when he shows you pictures of your bones to show how healthy and strong you are or analyzes a strand of hair he probably plucked from you while you were sleeping but how else is he supposed to show his love!! He doesn't understand why you look so 😧 in the beginning! He adores you so much that he's going out of his way to give you the utmost most in-depth examination and memorize all of it easily! He doesn't even know this much about his own body. HELP Dottore making horrible analogies is so him... but it's okay because soon enough when you see how serious he's being about it you start to find it pretty cute and endearing... we love a bf who tries his best.

I can't im literally exploding from all of these points... they're canon fr he would so love when you don't take shit from anyone, I mean why would you anyway? You're so obviously better than them so you shouldn't take poor treatment from anyone (he wouldn't allow it either, even though he does keep a low profile he will find a way to get back at anyone who dares to hurt or talk badly about you.) And omg yes,, there is no doubt in my mind he would find it so hot when you injure others. He loves the way the look in your eye changes to as if you're looking at nothing else besides a piece of trash. Your figure looks so hypnotizing when you're standing over your victim,,, when you casually leave and apologize for wasting time like it's a normal regular day,, that sweet smile back on your face,, and I guess you actually helped him out a bit because people talk less about him now solely because of the chance they might get beat by you.

UGH YES Zandik would definitely think he'd be fine without you, he doesn't need you that much, he's perfectly capable of taking care of himself! In fact, he could probably get some more work done without you bothering him every five seconds. Well, he's dead wrong. Everything just seems to annoy Zandik without you. You cooked some food to keep him fed for a few days but once it's done it really sets in that now he has to make his own food which tastes like shit compared to yours. He's put into a group project but you're not his partner because you're out on the expedition. He's already accidentally broken a few mechanical parts because the room is far too quiet without your voice. He's getting less sleep because you're not there to force him under the cover. He's less productive and he has no one to rant or go off on tangents to so now he's bottling too much things inside. Everything is just so bad and suddenly he's calculating the various amounts of time until you come back which is making Zandik tear his hair out. How dare you do this to him. This is disgusting behavior. In no way should he be so needy for you! He's honestly pissed at both himself and you. He wonders if you feel the same way he does right now or if he's really just a complete idiot. Oh but of course, he refuses to let go for once when you get back, he is not doing that shit ever again nor are you.

And as much as he hates it, the scientist part of him just finds it interesting how much smoothly things run when you're around again. You and your influences need to be studied further. And oh does he study. The filled-to-the-brim notebooks and papers say it all. You think he's reciting the universe's history with how much he writes. You tell him that he doesn't need to understand, some things in life are things you just know, but no. Zandik simply can't accept such an ideology. He must know exactly every single detail. If he can find the answer to godhood he can find the answer for love. You don't think that day will ever come, but you have fun watching your lover pore so many hours into this task.

Overall, he is really your sweet bf (and soon husband tbh) ily for this Kai. <333

#smooches talks #moots: kai <3 #dottore love notes <3 #U ALWAYS MAKE ME EXPLODE 💥 IN. A GOOD WAY JDBWJQ. you always have me writing essays #he can examine me all he wants #i imagine its actually quite easy to please dottore w ur cooking #bc he probably ate the most bland barely edible food on his own💀#so reader n dottore r a do not separate them. theyre a two in one package.#“youre my pretty bf!” zandik: “shut up” he says as he turns away ears red

60 notes · View notes

bakubunny · 2 months

Note

For Friday, I have some Suguru x Reader Domestic Angst to share! CW: Reader Death, Grief. I think Suguru's curse technique makes eating difficult, so I've always liked Reader choosing Cooking as a love language with him. Had this angsty bit stuck in my head for awhile. Sorry I got distracted by chores, so have a blurb!

The dark orb pulsed in Suguru's palm, promising nothing but revulsion. He steeled himself for the ordeal, knowing full well the disgust that awaited him. The process was always the same—ingest the curse, endure the nauseating taste, and then try to expel the vileness that clung to the inside of his mouth. “Need a palate cleanser?” He could hear your ghost whisper with your usual teasing tone. The memory so vivid, he could practically see your shade offering him a container of homemade mint gelato, your laughter echoing in his mind. How many times had he used the foul taste of curses as an excuse to drop by your place, welcomed by the comforting smells of your kitchen and the warmth of your presence? Now, there was only silence. He never imagined there would be a time when you wouldn't be a part of his life, when he couldn't just show up at your doorstep seeking the comfort that only you could provide. It had been your little ritual, a moment of peace from the horrors they faced daily. You had been a consistent pillar of support. The thought of you being gone for four months already still didn't seem real —A wound that only continued to fester.

He missed everything about you — the way you moved through the kitchen with ease, the sound of your laughter as they talked, the look in your eyes when you shared stories of their childhood with the other sorcerers. Now, all he had were these fragments of the past, taunting him with what he had lost.

The orb touched his tongue, and he suppressed a shudder as he swallowed it whole, the foulness coating his throat like oil. But this time, like many in the past 4 months, you weren't there for him to turn to afterwards- no home-cooked meals, no shared laughter to ease his burden, no loving embrace to make the world seem right again. Only the lingering disgusting aftertaste of his duty as a sorcerer- a burden that grew heavier with each curse consumed.

Your death was a curse of its own. One that he couldn't exorcise, one that he had to endure alone. As the mind numbing darkness of this curse spread, the more he was reminded that he would never get to hold you in his arms again- a bitter reality he had to face, one dreadful day at a time.

The world around Suguru seemed distant, as if he were submerged in water, the cicadas' song a persistent grating buzz in his ears. He stood there, his mind adrift on a sea of thoughts that kept pulling him under. Gojo's voice was there, somewhere in the distance, but it melded with the noise. Indistinct and unimportant.

“Hmm?” Suguru's voice was hollow, a ghostly echo of his former self as he finally registered that Gojo had been speaking to him. He blinked slowly, trying to focus on the present, on the words that were being directed at him. The brightness in Satoru's eyes, the carefree grin, the casual tilt of his head- all of it felt somehow foreign to Suguru now.

“I asked if you lost weight?”

i haven’t been able to stop thinking about this, love. genuinely. suguru and grief always hits so hard. i just wanna give him a big hug.

thanks so much for sharing!

#on fridays we share with the class #geto suguru #jjk #jjk x reader #x reader

21 notes · View notes

peachymilkandcream · 2 months

Text

Ready or Not|Part 2|Yandere Levi x Evelyn

(A/N: Getting into the actual level of Levi's obsession and looking more in depth to it has been actually so much fun. He's never actually truly lost it before so it's really cool to see what he does. Enjoy and comment to be added to the taglist!)

WARNINGS: noncon, dubcon, manipulation, domestic abuse, yandere themes, forced marriage, forced pregnancy, stockholm syndrome, violence, mind breaking, misogyny, etc

=============================================

Deep down Levi was grateful that Erwin stayed with him while he sobered up, really he was. But part of him couldn't help but be annoyed at this obvious display of weakness to the other man. Now Erwin would look down on him even more, after everything he said.

He couldn't think about that now, couldn't let it distract him. He had work to do.

The facts: His wife was missing with his toddler son and unborn child. Someone on this island had helped them or else she never would have made it that far. Which direction she had went and if she had gotten off the island he still didn't know. What he did know is that each passing second his wife was gone provoked his anger and added to his sexual frustration.

"Slow down Levi, you look like an animal." Erwin commented while reading the paper.

True, Levi probably looked like some kind of wild animal when he ate like that, but he was too enraged to think about table manners at a time like this. "Kiss my ass Erwin."

"I'd rather not, no telling where it's been with Underground riff-raff like you."

The sound of Levi's knife being stabbed into the table made the Commander pause for just a moment.

"Keep acting this way and I won't help you."

"Fine. I still don't understand why you're helping me."

"Because since you've been married and had sex frequently your improvement is astonishing. And if you cope like this then clearly the common factor is you need a woman. But due to your obsessive personality you'll only take one. So here we are."

"Damn right I'll only take one-"

"So what are your theories, what do you propose we do now?"

"Send out riders, search every corner of this damn island until they find her. You and I will focus on figuring out who helped her."

"She's never gotten this far has she."

"No, which just proves someone helped her. Evelyn doesn't have the resources to evade me for this long."

"I see, where should we start?"

Levi seesaws his knife back and forth between his fingers while he thinks.

"I have an idea."

==============================================

Despite what little countries were left still standing in this new world, Evelyn found this one to be the most hospitable. When they landed, she found a city bustling with life, most likely unaware of the horrors across the sea.

Apparently they had stopped the rumbling before much damage could be done. These people seemed happy and joyful, hit with the shockwave of that phenomenon but thinking they had gotten off without too much destruction. A happy environment with happy families and happy children.

This is where she would raise hers. Evelyn was determined that they would grow up in peace and happiness, never knowing about the hatred and vile past their mother had once been a part of, she'd leave it all behind and start anew.

This was her second chance. A chance to be redeemed.

A hand on her shoulder made her jump, fear filling every inch of her body at the thought she had been found so soon.

Slowly Evelyn turned, facing her fears and trying to read the features of the man before her to know if her nightmare had truly ended. Or was just getting worse.

#ready or not #break me slowly #levi x oc #attack on titan #levi aot #levi ackerman #shingeki no kyojin #levi x reader #yandere levi #yandere levi ackerman #yandere levi x reader

10 notes · View notes

calmcoldevening · 1 year

Text

Chris Walker SFW Alphabet

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

Chris is very affectionate. He is so happy that you are in his life, so he will appreciate every moment spent with you together. He's so lucky to have you. Sometimes Chris wakes up in the middle of the night and is afraid that it was all a dream, but when he sees you sleeping peacefully on the other side of the bed, he feels better. Sometimes, when he needs your attention, but you are working, he can come to your bedroom and sit on the bed. Chris will wring his hands until you notice him. He wants your love so much, but he doesn't want to distract you from business. If you turn around and come over and hug him, Chris will cuddle up to you like a kitten. God, thank you for such an unimaginably wonderful gift like you!

B = Best Friend (What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?)

Chris would be a great best friend. Although, probably, he is for you anyway. Best friend and lover, wonderful! Chris can always listen to you carefully, even if he does not respond to your statement, he will pull you onto his lap and hold you for a long time until you calm down. Keeps secrets very well. Know that if you told Chris something, it will remain in his head until his death. A promise on pinky fingers? The best friend who can listen and help if you want to drink and have fun.

C = Crying (How does he react to crying?)

If Chris sees you crying, he'll start circling over you like a worried mom over a screaming baby. He will hold you to him and gently stroke your hair. Has someone offended you? You can trust him, he will listen! After your story, he will pick you up in his arms and carry you to the kitchen. Warm tea and your favorite chocolate bar, which he always has hidden in a drawer above the table, will definitely help. Chris will hold you on his lap and rock you while you eat. He will gently wipe the remaining tears from your red cheeks, and then leave a light kiss. "I'm here, little pig. You're in safe..."

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

Chris is a very caring man. If you feel bad or sad, he will certainly try to fix it. He can go to the store, do some work and stay with you all day if he has a day off today. What about a spa day, honey? Chris is a great cook. That's what it means, hands from the right place. The best pies in the whole world! He loves them and knows how to cook masterfully. What kind of fruit do you want?

E = Ending (if they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

There's no way he'd want to do that. You are his whole world, his light in this vile gloomy life, where everyone is alien to him and laughs at him. But if it was for your safety (for example, so that the Murkoff company would not use you), he would do it abruptly, trying not to show emotions. He will tell about the breakup and leave the house. Chris will literally die of grief and loss. He loves you so much, he didn't want to lose you! But even more, he wants you to be safe. You will find another person, much better, you will have beautiful children, you will be a happy wife... Chris will cry hard and scream into the pillow. He didn't want it to end like this... Just not now... God, he would kill himself not to feel this terrible pain in his chest. Chris misses you so much.

"Y/N..." he whispers painfully, clutching your photo in his hands, which he always carried in his wallet before. "I love you... I want to come to you... Please..."

F = Fiancé(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)

Chris would be very, very happy to be your husband. You are such a beautiful wife, your two wonderful children and a little black cat. Chris is coming home. It smells like a wonderful dinner. You go out to meet him and wrap your arms around his neck. He picks you up in his arms and carries you into the bedroom, kissing you on the lips. He's yours. You're his. You swore before God that you would be together. God, he will be the most attentive and gentle husband!

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

Chris is so damn gentle. His every touch is careful. To him, you look like a fragile crystal figure, so beautiful, but so defenseless. One wrong action and you will collapse. Chris basically has the language of love — touch, so they will be filled with his care and affection.

H = Hugs (do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

Very fond of hugging. If there was such an opportunity, Chris would want you to sit in his arms all day long while he gently pats you on the back. Nothing matters except the feeling of your body's warmth. His hugs are like the hugs of a big teddy bear. They are strong and strong. Chris can unknowingly hold you tightly to him until he knocks all the air out of your lungs. You'll be writhing from lack of oxygen. He will push you away from him and apologize. Then he will hug you again, but more gently. Definitely a big spoon.

I = I love you (how fast do they say the L-word?)

He would be ready to say this after a couple of months of your communication. But he's too shy. And afraid of being rejected. You know... You're so wonderful, and he's not sure if you like him, maybe you like someone much better than him?

You were walking in the park. The weather was surprisingly good. The autumn wind caressed your faces, the sun flashed beautifully on your face, illuminating it, as if you were some unearthly angel. Although, it probably was. You walked slowly along the curb, shuffling your feet and throwing off orange leaves. Chris was walking beside you, watching you so you wouldn't fall. You had ice cream in your hands.

You laugh like a child, rocking on the curb, Chris grabs your hand, twining your fingers.

"Be careful," he says excitedly, supporting you.

"Okay," you smile and keep walking, squeezing the man's palm harder. He blushes a little from your action. It's probably a common thing for you, but he wants to believe that you behave so cheerfully and openly only with him. He loves watching you so much, the beautiful princess in his life.

When you get down to the ground, you look at Chris with satisfaction. God, his face is smeared with ice cream crumbs. It's so cute. You pull your palm up to his face and gently run your fingers over his cheek, removing the crumbs. He shudders.

"Y/N" he whispers, and you look at him questioningly. Chris puts his hand on top of yours. "I...I love... you" he looks down shyly "I didn't know when to tell you this... Suddenly you decide to stop communicating with me, and I wouldn't want that, I-" You interrupt him, standing on tiptoe and gently kissing him on the lips. Chris flinches, but obediently opens his mouth for you, closing his eyes. A kiss with the taste of strawberry ice cream.

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

Jealous. Very. But he won't tell you that. Chris saw you with another man, and you were laughing so carelessly. You...are so happy. He will smile sadly. Maybe he's not good enough, so now you're enjoying yourself with another person. But when you notice him and wave to him, he'll blush a little. Come and hug him, you can even kiss him. God, you really love him! (he tends to doubt others a little, since he is not even sure of his own feelings :( )

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

His kisses are like a light touch of delicate butterflies. He is very necessary and careful. Chris seems to be talking to you through these very kisses, so each of them can mean something: a kiss on the lips - "I love you. I cherish you", kisses on the forehead — "Be careful", a kiss on the nose — "You're so cute". Chris, of course, could say it in words, and sometimes he does, but such "secret" messages give him more pleasure, because you understand him so well, you complement each other. You are made for each other!

I think he likes to kiss your whole body in principle, especially the parts of you that you don't like or are embarrassed by them. But if you select a certain place, then it will probably be the forehead.

He likes it when you kiss his neck. Chris literally starts to choke on this, and a pleasant sensation descends from his neck to his groin.

L = Little ones (how are they around children?)

Chris likes children just as much as animals. They are pure and innocent, not yet tainted by this vile world. Especially since these children are from you. He would be happy to be a father to your children. Your children. Chris would be a wonderful parent. Attentive, caring, understanding. You could have no problem leaving the baby with Chris. He could give the kid his piggy toy. The best father in the world, definitely.

M = Morning (how are mornings spent with them?)

It depends on whether he is working today or not. If Chris is working, then he will carefully get out of bed, before gently kissing you on the forehead, and after that he will just stand for a few minutes and admire your sleeping being. No matter how big he is, he goes to work quietly enough, so you don't have time to wake up. But when you go out to the kitchen, your favorite sweet and some nice note will already be on the table.

Chris opened his eyes sleepily. Fumbling with his hand on the second half of the bed, he did not find you. But the slight hint of fear immediately evaporated when he heard the sound of water in the bathroom. Warm yellow light streamed from behind the closed door. The man smiled. He slowly got up from the bed, walking as quietly as possible to the bathroom. You were standing at the sink and washing your face. I'm surprised you haven't looked in the mirror. Chris crept up behind you, placing his hands on your waist and kissing you behind the ear.

He loves these moments. Just standing there and hugging you, forgetting about time, people, and everything in the world. Just you and him. His dearest treasure.

"Good morning, little pig," he whispers, smiling when you touch his cheek with your palm.

N = Night (how are nights spent with them?)

In general, your night passes quite calmly, except for the days when Chris is tossing on the pillow because of nightmares. He is still haunted by dreams of war. PTSD makes itself felt. At some point, closer to two or three o'clock in the morning, he may jump up abruptly, trying to catch his breath. He has frantic breathing, a rapid heartbeat and a buzz in his head. Chris sobs painfully, covering his face with his hands. You will reluctantly wake up, rubbing your eyes, but immediately sit down next to him, noticing that something is wrong with Chris. Crying like a lost child. Now it is not necessary to frighten him with sudden movements. Gently touch his shoulders or back, gently rubbing. He'll flinch. Realizing that you are your presence, so soft and soothing, he will slowly pull you to him hugging. It was just a dream. Nightmare. You're close. You won't leave him, right? You love him. He will press his face against the curve of your neck, inhaling your pleasant smell. It's easier for him now.

O = Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

It will be gradual. At the beginning of your relationship, he will still feel extremely insecure. He loves you so much, and you're so adorable, maybe it's all just a prank? But in a couple of weeks you will be able to learn a lot more about him. His hobbies, what he likes, his fears. He trusts you. Even if it's all an evil prank, Chris likes to feel needed and loved next to you. He values you.

P = Patience (How easily angered are they?)

He has quite inhuman patience, ph (hey, he literally endures that terrible nickname and name-calling for many years). His patience will quickly burst like a stretched thread, only in two cases: someone has spoiled his little pig (we know how this can end) or someone will touch his goddess, that is, you. Then he will kill everyone to hell and even the holes in his cheeks will not stop him.

Q = Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)

Oh, he remembers everything! What is your favorite color? Sure. Is it your mom's birthday? Pf, yes. The foods you're allergic to or that nasty girl from work that you can't stand? He is ready to discuss with you how tactless and narcissistic she is. Even fleetingly said things that you can mention in your conversation will stick in his head for a long time (so don't hesitate to speak in hints, xd).

R = Remember (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?)

This is probably the first time he's cried. He thought you'd insult him or something, after all, he's trying to be strong in your eyes, don't doubt that he'll be able to protect you!.. But you didn't laugh, you hugged and listened to him cry... You're so wonderful. At that moment, he made sure that you love him no matter what. He likes your loving hugs so much.

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

Chris will protect you. At home, he is always next to you, if he is at work, then every few hours he will write restless messages and ask how you are doing and how you feel. Chris himself, as such, does not need protection, he is strong enough to stand up for himself on his own. He just needs your kisses and hugs. But if someone dares to hurt you, he will destroy that person.

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

Oh, he'll try very hard. He thinks over all the holidays for weeks, buys gifts for you, some goodies, decorates the house if necessary. He likes to impress you. Chris will remember and take into account all the things that you like. Chris loves to see your happy smile when you open the wrapping paper.

U = Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?)

Often eats a lot to drown out excitement or fear.

Bites his lips when he's worried.

As strange as it may sound, it happens that he forgets to eat. (Oh, this guy apparently has an eating disorder...)

V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

He looks after himself, but he's not vain. Sometimes he does not see the need for this, but still what no, and self-care makes him feel alive and whole. Chris always smells of some sweet citrus perfume and coffee, his hair is soft and smells of fruit shampoo, and his clothes are smoothly ironed. He's cute.

W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

Definitely yes. You are the most valuable thing in his life, his light and happiness. Therefore, when Murkoff takes it, it will be broken. A man can stop eating, his emotions will become extremely superficial. But it doesn't matter if you stay safe, right? Your gentle image will haunt him in his sleep. Chris wakes up in the middle of the night and looks around the room. But this is a hospital cell. Silent tears will flow down his cheeks. God, why did they do this to him? He wants you so much, his heart breaks, he dreams of your hugs, touches, kisses. Chris is ready to die just to see you again as soon as possible. And will he see..?

X = Xtra (A random headcanon for them.)

Do you like sweets? Expect that you will find chocolate in the most unexpected places. Do you like flowers? Honey, don't you think there's something missing in our room... What about cute violets? Chris will casually, even without a reason, buy you different gifts. He likes your joy.

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

He likes everything about you. Absolutely. Your beautiful body, your charming voice, your laughter, your emotions. The only thing he doesn't like (in other people, for example) this is an injustice. If people are offended for nothing, called names, behave arrogantly. He is disgusted by this.

Z = Zzz (What is a sleep habits of theirs?)

He likes to lie snuggled up to you. Chris is literally a big fluffy cuddle bear, so just hug him at night, darling!

Before going to bed, he will definitely make you both some kind of warm drink: tea, cocoa, it doesn't matter. You will sit in his arms and talk about how your day went. He's a very attentive listener, you can be sure.

If you've had a particularly hard day, instead of the usual shower, Chris will make a full bath for you with bath bombs and fragrant foam. Honey, rose flowers or a glass of wine?

#chris walker x reader #outlast: whistleblower #chris walker #fanfic #outlast chris walker #outlast #yn #chris walker x yn

41 notes · View notes

wheeler-beretta-harwood · 2 years

Text

Meant To Be (Cash Wheeler x Reader)

Chapter Thirteen

warnings: angst, mention of cheating, mention of domestic violence

You were laying in the sun, trying to finally get a good tan. It was such a nice place to stay for the weekend, the pool glistening in the afternoon sun, little palm trees surrounding the pool area. Damn, you could definitely see yourself living here.

"Here you go. Tequila Sunrise, with lots of tequila, sorry. My inner Dax kind of took control while I mixed this." Cash chuckled as he handed you the drink. You grinned up at him and took the glass. You wanted to tell him it was okay, but as soon as you took a sip, you choked and started coughing.

"Holy fuck! Is there anything else in it besides tequila!?"

He laughed as he sat down on the lounger next to you. "Not much, no."

"Let's switch. I take your beer, you take this atrocity." You didn't even wait for his response, but took his drink right away from him, downing half of it with one gulp in order to get rid of the taste in your mouth. "Aaah, much better.........What?" You noticed him staring at you, though you couldn't see the look in his eyes due to his sunglasses.

"Nothin'. I'm just glad you're here for the weekend." He said, taking the drink out of your hand and running his fingers through your hair before laying down next to you. When he drank, he grimaced causing you to laugh out loud.

"Okay, that is vile. Sorry, Darlin."

"You better be." The two of you shared a smile, and then sighed simultaneously before relaxing in the sun. Life was good.

A few minutes of silence passed before Cash's phone rang. "Hey Jay. How are ya? -- Yeah, just chillin right now. -- Really? -- Well, fucking finally. Karma is a bitch after all. He deserves that...and more. Does Mom know? -- Uh-huh, yeah, I'll tell her. Bye!" After he hung up, a sly grin was plastered on his face.

"Good news?" You curiously glanced over to him and stretched out your legs.

"Yeah."

That was it. You waited for more information, but nothing.

"So you're not gonna tell?"

He sighed heavily. "Y/N, you wouldn't understand...it's a long story."

"Well, I've got all weekend, ya know."

Yet another heavy sigh. You could tell he was annoyed by you, but you honestly didn't care right now. You wanted the story.

"My stepfather was hospitalized two days ago. Problems with his liver. He almost drank himself to death. Serves him right." The last part he mumbled to himself, but you heard it nonetheless.

You sat up and turned your body in his direction, taking off your sunglasses. "How the hell is that good news, Cash?!" You were completely baffled by what he just said. That didn't sound like Cash at all. Not the Cash you knew and loved.

"See, I told ya you wouldn't understand."

"Then fucking explain it to me."

Cash now sat up as well and faced you. "I don't wanna talk about it. Okay!?" His voice was louder than he wanted it to be, but he couldn't contain his anger.

You scoffed, stood up and made your way back to the house. "I'm pretty sure Lindsay knows everything about it." Venom dripped from your words, you were hurt he didn't want to talk to you, and angry at the little he had said. You needed to be away from him right now.

As soon as he heard what you said, he stood up and followed you inside. "What did you just say?" The anger in his voice actually scared you for a moment, but you replied anyway. "You heard what I said."

"What does she have to do with it?" He asked while he grabbed your wrist to stop you from running away from him. When you turned around and pulled your hand away from him, tears had already formed in your eyes, threatening to spill any moment. All the doubts and fears that had bottled up all those weeks, up to this point, just exploded out of your mouth.

"Nothing...Everything...I don't know, Cash. And you wanna know why? Because you don't fucking talk to me! You don't tell me about your stepfather, you don't tell me about Lindsay. You don't tell me shit!" You tried to calm yourself down, but the tears were falling already, and your voice was shaky.

"Cash, I am sorry, but I can't go on like this. It's eating me up on the inside. Why is it you never open up to me? It's like you don't trust me at all, while I've been an open book to you. You know everything about my shitty past, about my family...my brother. And I get nothing from you."

"What do you want to hear? That the asshole of my stepfather used to beat the living shit out of me and my mother whenever he was drunk?! And he was drunk every fucking day? That I basically ran away from home at 15 because I couldn't take it anymore?! You wanna hear about Lindsay? How she tried to talk me into quitting wrestling, so I could be with her all the damn time? That the woman I loved then decided to cheat on me with one of my best friends three weeks before our supposed wedding day? That's the past, it doesn't matter anymore!"

Tears of anger and pain fell from his eyes. His sudden outburst surprised not only you, but him as well. He didn't know why he yelled at you, you had done nothing wrong. But he was unable to control himself either.

"It does matter! Your past is hanging over me like a shadow. Over us! Do you even realize what you just said? Love? You can say it about her, but not to me?!"

"Y/N, I am sorry, I didn't mean it." Cash looked torn, his voice soft again. He didn't want to hurt you, it was the last thing he ever wanted. But he had done it, and regretted it deeply. He tried to hold your hand, but you stepped away further from him.

For a few moments, you didn't say anything. No, you couldn't say anything.

When he started again, trying to explain himself somehow, you shook your head at him.

"No. You meant that. You loved her, maybe you still do, I don't know. But you don't love me, not like her. And I am in too deep with this relationship. Whatever it is to you, Cash. I just can't - I can't go on like this. It's either all or nothing for me. And right now it looks like I'll get nothing. So if you want, go back to Lindsay, I won't stop you. No strings attached. Maybe she'll treat you better than last time. Better than I ever could."

You paused for a second, before you finally said.

"It's best I leave right now. I just need some space. I think we both do."

Cash's eyes got blurry again. "Please don't leave, Darlin. Please. I need you."

His pleading broke your heart. There wasn't anything you'd rather do than stay with him. But you knew it'd be the wrong choice.

So you softly shook your head at him.

"I'll give you the last bit of money I owe you next week in Philly. I'll see you there, I guess." You said as you walked up to his bedroom to pack your things and leave.

"Y/N, please don't go. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." He followed you, trying his hardest to make you change your mind. But to no avail, you had made your decision.

When you were done packing, you walked up to him with your suitcase. He had stopped trying to persuade you a few minutes earlier and now just stood there in utter defeat as he watched your every move.

You wanted to at least hug him before you left, but you knew if you did, you'd give in. "Goodbye, Cash." You walked past him, not daring to turn around once more, and left to go back to Jacksonville.

Cash stood there for several minutes, not moving an inch. He tried to understand what happened, and then remembered Dax's words. 'Don't act surprised if she gets suspicious'

...If only he would have listened to him. At least this one time...

But you were gone now.

---------------------------------------

"Sooooo, you were really cryptic. What's up? You.....look like shit. Sorry." Emma came over to your place as soon as you asked her to.

You tried to answer her, but only choked on your words as you teared up again.

"Oh Sweetie, what happened?" She said as she threw her arms around you, comforting you as best as she could.

After a few more sobs, you weakly stated. "Cash...I...we had a fight. I think it's over."

"What?!" Emma was holding you even tighter now, soothingly rubbing your back.

"Oh, Y/N, it's probably not that bad. He'd never leave you, he-"

"I left him, Emma."

Your best friend moved away from you a little to look you in the eyes. Her furrowed brow told you that she was confused. "Tell me what happened. When you're ready." She said before walking you over to your couch and sitting you down. "Do you want a drink? Water? Coffee? Alcohol?"

"I should be the one asking that, you're my guest after all..." You weakly smiled. "But, yeah, I could really use a shot. Or two."

Emma chuckled and went to get a bottle of whiskey from your cabinet and two glasses. Then she sat next to you and poured herself and you some of the amber liquor. You clanked your glasses and she smiled at you when you downed your drink in one gulp. You grimaced a bit because of the burning in your throat, before explaining what had happened at Cash's place earlier that day, mentioning your fight about his ex, but leaving out his family background. Then you told her what happened after the concert, when you confessed his love to him and got nothing in return. And you mentioned how Lindsay called him when you had dinner, and he straight up lied in your face about it.

Your friend listened to all of it, all while holding your hand. She didn't interrupt you which you appreciated. When you were finished, you sighed. "Do you think I overreacted? Maybe I was too hard on him."

Emma shook her head. "You did what you thought was right. And honestly, if I were you, I would have slapped him right at the concert." She paused for a moment before starting again. "So, where do you want to go from here? Do you want to talk to him next week? Or are we avoiding him like the plague? I'll make sure he leaves you alone, if that's what you want."

"I don't know what I want, Ems. I want him. But he should want me just as much. And I don't think he does." Your eyes got teary again.

She squeezed your hand before she told you a little secret she had kept for so long. "You know, Y/N, my very first encounter with Cash was months ago. He came up to me and asked me about you. Not what you'd expect though. No weird question about a boyfriend, he wanted no creepy info on what you're into. Nothing like that. No, he came up to me and wanted to know if you were happy. That was his main concern: your happiness. First, I thought he was joking, but he was dead serious. He didn't know a damn thing about you as a person, but had seen enough to care about you. Now, I am not trying to talk you into forgiving him right away. He deserves that you left him today. Just don't come to a conclusion too quickly. I know that you love him, he knows, everybody knows that. But I also know that he loves you. Even if he didn't say it. Hell, even if he's being an idiot right now and hasn't realized it yet. He does. So, let him suffer for a little more, think about what you want and need from him and when he comes to talk to you - he will, trust me - let him explain. It seems like he has been through a lot, and now has some trust issues. Not your fault...but it isn't his either, right?"

You looked intently at your friend, listening to every word she said. When she finished, you nodded and smiled at her. "Since when are you full of wisdom, Ems? I thought I was the smart one out of the two of us."

Your friend scoffed and poured you another shot of whiskey. "The tables have turned, Y/N."

But she was right. You had to talk to him eventually.

Eventually.

------------------------------

Cash sat in his kitchen, phone in hand, and internally debated if he should call or not. He knew he wanted to, but he wasn't sure if he'd like what he'd hear.

When he heard the door close behind you a few hours before, he felt like he'd collapse any moment. This was bad. So fucking bad. He panicked. Usually, he knew what to do, but not now. He needed help.

So he finally dialed and put the phone on speaker.

"Hello?"

"Hi. Can you talk right now or is it a bad time?"

"I always have time for you, Cash. What's wrong?"

"Thanks man. I...I did something really stupid." He then paused, sorting his thoughts for his best friend.

"I had a pretty bad fight with Y/N. I even yelled at her."

Dax sighed on the other end. "What did you fight about?"

"Started off with my stepfather, ended with Lindsay." Cash's sigh matched Dax's from before while he told him almost every detail of what had happened.

"Okay...sounds pretty bad. But we'll fix it. You need to explain all of it to her. Apologize. Now. I mean, she's staying at your place, just go to her. She'll listen."

Cash sniffled. "She left, Dax. Said she needed some space. I think I really fucked it up. She won't take me back."

There was a long silence before the older spoke again. "Listen. I need you to be honest with me right now: Do you love her? And do you want her back?"

"Yes."

"To which?"

"Both."

"Good. Then we'll get her back. We'll think of something. Don't worry too much about it now. Calm down. Get some rest. We'll work it out on Tuesday, let's meet a day earlier, so we can talk some more. Okay?"

"Okay...and Dax? Thank you."

"Don't thank me. You know I always got your back."

Chapter Fourteen

#aew #aew imagine #cash wheeler #all elite wrestling imagine #cash wheeler imagine #cash wheeler x reader #ftr #dax harwood #all elite wrestling

50 notes · View notes

thegetdownrebooter · 1 year

Note

You know, I was actually literally just thinking that the way a lot of Tom fans talk about Shiv reminds me of the people who were like "if you support Amber Heard you hate male victims of domestic violence 😤", like using that as a bad faith gotcha.

yes! exactly! lol that's honestly a very good comparison because a lot of depp supporters and tom stans move very similarly.

The average depp supporter can't even name 5 male domestic abuse survivors off the top of their head and yet they pretend to care about male victims, because they can't actually admit to only believing in depp because he was their teen crush once or because they want to watch the pirates of the caribbean without guilt.

The average tom stan compares their fave to princess diana but notice how they don't feel any compassion for greg, someone that is actually experiencing work place abuse because of their fave ?, so which one is it? if you're fave is princess di (what a vile comparison) then what does that make greg exactly??

neither of these groups actually care about male victims but they know admitting to only woobifying certain men because they're attracted to them, makes them look like losers so they grasp at straws to make themselves look like advocates for male victims fictional or otherwise, despite the fact that depp is friends with a pedo who most likely has hurt young boys, and despite the fact that tom is an abusive boss that takes his frustrations out on greg and anybody below him.

Honestly i meant that she's getting the "amber heard treatment" in a sense that she isn't a "perfect victim" like, people especially women with internalized misogyny and regular misogynists only feel sorry for women who were domestically abused if she's a protagonist in a lifetime movie or if she's the lead from an early 2000's shoujo anime, as in she needs to be the long suffering loyal wife who's only mistake was falling for the wrong guy, and even then she get's the classic "why didn't you just leave!"? so there's like no winning either way but shiv is already at a disadvantage because people don't pity her or sympathise with her in the first place, so if the worst case scenario actually happens (tom putting his hands on her) she won't have many people feeling sorry her, just like amber because she isn't a "perfect victim" and people will bring up her cheating and past bullshit as if that means she "deserves" to get hit.

#i'm sorry this was long as hell #you've opened up a can of worms #i'm sorry for the poor grammar english isn't my first language #but yeah....#honestly fuck people that compare tom to princess diana #she was a real person that was treated more horribly than you can ever imagine

1 note · View note

everything-is-crab · 7 months

Note

Sorry about that. I didn't really think that it would be suspicious for an anon to sent facebook links. I totally understand your concerns.

Do you know Deepika Narayan Bhardwaj? She's an mra who made documentaries like Martyrs of Marriage and India's sons. The person I mentioned reblogged a post from her about Shikhar Dhawan and Aesha Dhawan while tagging it as "How greedy bourgeois woman can ruin life of man".

I know it sounds simple but what actually annoyed me were the comments to that post and how she responded to it. Men saying things like "most women are like this" and her responding with "yes comrade, women in bourgeois society care only about money" and such. This isn't the first time she's made posts like this. She was the one who actually introduced me to marxist feminism and seeing her turn into this way was disappointing.

A lot of political discourse about feminism or marxism in our country is dominated by upper castes and classes but I'm willing to listen still, which is why I kept following her eventhough she's been making misogynistic posts for a long time.

I actually do read and enjoy works of Urmila Pawar, Anuradha Ghandy, Shoma Sen, Anand Teltumbde and I'd definitely look at the works of those whom you mentioned.

I'm probably boring you by now and I guess I come across as an idiot so I'll stop. I won't bother you anymore. Again, I apologize for sending that link.

Yeah sometimes links are often disguised and can be ip grabbers or other form of malware. And even then I couldn't see what you sent cause I don't have fb account. You don't need to apologize and you can send me an ask without anon on (I won't publish) and we can talk through DMs if you want. Or you can continue sending anons. I don't have an issue. You're not bothering me dw. Everytime I get an ask like this from an Indian leftist feminist I get excited so you're not boring me and you're definitely not an idiot. It's okay really <3

You're already brighter than most men and yet you're feeling so underconfident. Try to resist that.

And ik her! (Deepika whatever) YouTube wouldn't stop pushing her videos on my feed and so I looked into them and just 🤢🤢

What a class traitor. And the fact I have come across so many such women irl. And that case is just vile. Like wtf. These people always want to blame women for everything. If he had sm problem of being away from his son, then maybe he should have taken up some domestic duties himself lol. But men confine women to a certain role in marriage. And when it backfires they cry and blame them.

And she was a Marxist feminist and then turned to MRA rhetoric? Wow that's new. And you're right, it is dominated by the privileged sections of society. You don't have to listen to such extreme bigoted people. Does she really understand Marxism feminism at all if she thinks it's women who are economically greedy in capitalist system? Maybe you were right, it's just for clout. Sorry you had to see that.

And I am glad you're reading their work! You are already very smart idk why you're so anxious about yourself. I am glad you sent me that and this ask :)

1 note · View note

fandomfluffandfuck · 3 years

Text

Okay, so.

Below the cut are more asks related to the problematic!seb!anon stuff below. I am answering these and then no more. I understand that everyone wants to weigh in on what they think is good and bad or right and wrong but this is not what I made this blog for. Drama, rumors or he said she said, cancel culture, and Twitter World shit is not my cup of tea. I'm not comfortable with it. I do understand that racism is not drama but the way it has been presented with Sebastian is too close a line for me and I don't want that. Racism is much of what is wrong with the world. And while the discourse for critical thinking about racism in general is open, the drama motivated racism, calling someone a racist just to knock them down, ruin their image, or just prove a hunch that someone is terrible is not.

I get that he's done shit, he has problems and will probably have more, and supports people who he maybe-to-probably shouldn't. I acknowledge that. But I, in my bias, do not hate him for it, neither will I stop posting about him.

*trigger warning in ask #1 for domestic violence/abuse (woman & pregnancy related)

Ask #1

I get that, yeah, I've heard it. Both sides, actually! The idea that he shouldn't be playing Tommy in the first place, the idea that Pam doesn't want it to happen. Then the idea that he should be playing Tommy because supposedly he didn't shy away from the Terrible Shit he did that's in the film, not sugar coating it like some actors might've, and that if Pam truly had a problem with it, because it's been in production so long, she easily could've stopped it from happening. Though, yeah, I couldn't imagine she'd be as stoked as Tommy seems to be but as you said, she hasn't said anything as far as I know. Perhaps she's looking to have her side put out there too? I have zero ideas. Gauging the "normal" amount of promo for something is difficult, yeah, I can't really say if it’s one way or the other because I've seen less, no doubt about it, but I've also seen more intense shit. And with celebrities its difficult to know, especially in social media times, what they're putting up, what their team is putting up, and what is contractually obligated for them.

Baseline though: Tommy has done horrible, vile shit. Pam had to go through that shit. And was a show even necessary in the first place? Idk. However, it's not just Seb really, there are Tons of films glorifying shit that shouldn't be seen as cool/okay/fun.

Ask #2

Yeah, I haven't heard much about Chris, probably due to his anti-Trump tweets and ASP work winning over people in general. They're louder than Sebastian's quiet charity work and donations I supposed. But also, I don't go digging so I haven't heard anything at all with Chris and that doesn't surprise me, I try to stay out of a lot of it. (Other than a person attempting to get others to unfollow him on Twitter during the explosion of the intensely important BLM protests in the summer of 2020 (I think, pandemic time was and is a blur), supposedly claiming you can't follow Chris because Chris supports the police and that makes you racist (but I think that was just one person on my timeline going a little overboard).)

But, yes, people do love to pick on Sebastian. I can't quite understand it either. (Other than the very jokey answer of Chris' apparent power of turning everyone into mush, straight men included, re: that infamous straight guy I'd-let-Chris-Evans-Toss-My-Salad comment lol)

Ask #3

Hello. I think that's a very good way to look at it, yeah. Pretty much how I see it and way thinking about it but written much better and more concise than I could've said it lol.

Yeah, I think the fact that celebs have a magnifying glass on their lives is often forgotten as well as certain people's habits of going digging just to find problematic things done in the past. But also, yeah, I agree again. Accountability is still needed in certain times.

Thank you, sincerely, for the thoughts, I'm glad to know your opinion.

Ask #5

Sorry, these asks were all jumbled in my inbox together, I don't know of which of the above it belongs with but I'm assuming its the Chris one...? See food for thought in the above ask answers though.

#asks #sebastian stan

7 notes · View notes

british-bombs · 3 years

Text

( TO BEAT THE DEVIL ) An introduction.

FORMAT: teleplay / novel

GENRE: horror, coming of age

LOGLINE: An interning demon drives a pair of twins cursed with obedience and honesty to kill their cult leader.

THEMES: Trauma, sexual abuse, domestic violence, victim blaming (particularly self blame), peer pressure, redemption, internalized homophobia, and religion.

TRIGGER WARNINGS: Sexual abuse, violence, domestic and otherwise, manipulation, and death

EXTENDED SUMMARY, CHARACTERS, EXCERPT AND NOTES:

Carmine can taste it. They're hiding something. Humans have such a silly smell about them, turns an overwhelming shade of sweet when they've made a demonic deal. All four of these children have. He just can't figure out what, and more importantly: why.

It keeps him on the surface longer than he should be. Long enough that Lilith sees it fit to send him a fucking trainee? And if that wasn't insult enough, the trainees one of the eternal teenage know-it-alls.

He's already got four annoying toddlers to trail, and now there's one tugging his hand in the new generation's approach to soul-catching like Carmine isn't one of the best employees they've had since the turn of the century.

And somehow, to make it all worse, the trainee is good at it. And if Carmine wants to keep his spot at the top of the food chain, he's going to have to get the soul of that dumb bitch who's running the joint.

But, of course, the kid gets him murdered??? And then has the nerve to figure out how what those toddlers managed to stick their syrupy, grubby little hands in. What gives?

But two can play at that game. If he can't get the dead guy's, then he can have the next best thing.

Jesse has lived just under seventeen years, but he's ready to check out. Or he was. But of course, some selfish bastard had to come along and say you can't ever act on those thoughts again! Don't think like that!

And then the hole kept getting deeper.

Six feet deep, to be exact. He's got blood on his hands and no matter how fucking good it felt to cut off the air supply to the God who stole his innocence, it's probably not going to feel very good to watch his mom suffer through a highly publicized trial with headlines like CHILD MURDERS HIGH PROFILE BENEFACTOR!!!

Oh. Well. Billy did say if he really got in that deep, he could always strike up a deal. His soul, everything wrapped up in a nice little bow, sweet as Easter Sunday. But until then? Yeah, he's content to live in a stupid fucking Sherlock Holmes novel.

CHARACTERS:

JESSE NIX: A soon-to-be seventeen-year-old saddled with the curse of obedience. Unlike miss-lucky-Ella-Enchanted, he wasn't told to give away his mommy's locket. No-siree. He was told to give away his virginity. In his opinion, the only appropriate payback is a life. Maybe, one day, if he really snaps, he'll dig up Pastor Dallin's corpse and chop his dick off. Really stick it to the man. If he doesn't go to prison first, anyway. (spotify playlist)

NANCY NIX: Also a soon-to-be-seventeen-year-old, though saddled with the curse of honesty. It's really not so bad. That is, until she stumbles across the sight of her dearest little brother covered in blood for no reason he can push through his metal braces. She refuses to believe he did it on purpose. If only she could convince the cops without sounding like a nutjob. (spotify playlist)

BEVERLY PINES: A seventeen-year-old cursed to feel the pain of those around her. It makes for some fun family dinners with a sadistic mom and a missing dad. Distance nulls pain, but she can't ever seem to make it past state lines before her mom gets wise and breaks one of her ribs. Oh, well. She's got a bone to pick with psychos like her mom. Apparently, Pastor Dallin was one of them. She doesn't think she could stomach the pain of killing someone, so next best thing, right? (spotify playlist)

CLARICE ANDERMANN: Also a seventeen-year-old cursed to be constantly in motion. It's honestly not that bad. She's Yale bound! Perks of having endless energy for everything to cheerleading to debate contests, though she can't imagine her heart's going to keep up like this. It's already hanging on by a thread. That thread is named Beverly Pines and like hell she's letting it go to prison for nothing. (spotify playlist)

BILLY: An annoying fuck trapped in a seventeen-year-old's body. No curses. The opposite, in fact - blessed with a silver tongue and a keen sense of deduction. It takes him all of two hours to put together (almost) everything about Jesse Nix. He just didn't think he could push the repressed little fuck to murder that quick. (All the more power to him, though. Prison always makes people desperate and paranoid, AKA: an easy mark.) (spotify playlist)

MAVIS EVANGELISTA: Former housewife turned grieving widow turned revered prophet. If she got a little help from someone downstairs, then who's to know? They love her all the same. Now, she really, really wants to see how far she can push them all. (spotify playlist)

CARMINE: Just a helpful guy, passing through. Really doesn't need anything, just a little pledge, is all! And then? Then, you can have everything you want, fame, money, power, love. The sky is your limit. The water's fine! (Ignore the piranhas, they'll wait till you're dead to eat your face, just a little bit.) (spotify playlist)

NOTES:

- all of these characters have equal importance within the story.

- personal tag system for story stuff is '#tbtd' and character tags are just first name (ex: '#jesse')

- this is kind of really fucked up. the only reason i wrote it was cause i was thinking damn ella enchanted really is NOT fucked up enough. like i don't think the author of ella enchanted went dark enough. a locket? that's it? a bitch move. i'm taking it to straight murder and sexual abuse

- jesse transgender, no character straight except evil people

- i'm not entirely sure how tag lists work but i think i get the gist of them?? idk if you want rb or ask or something </3

EXCERPT:

There were moments, where she was reminded just how different this voice was, how violent.

She had found Lynette, making off with her makeup that she’d spent her own allowance on. Mavis doted on her and, from what she’d seen of other families, everyone else looked upon their little siblings with contempt, despising the burden they dragged along with their existence.

But Mavis adored Lyn. When she'd been born, her mother had come home with a tiny thing bundled in pink fleece. Mavis had taken to Lyn on sight, thinking Lynette’s headband adorned with a baby blue bow was the universe’s way of telling her happy birthday! as reparations for the ones her mother had missed while she was enduring her week long stay at the hospital.

But that mindset was a disease, one that had finally caught up with her. Had Lynette not become her burden? She was nineteen, busting her back day and night so Lynette wouldn’t have to, that she might avoid the life that Mavis had lived in those blissful six years where it was her and her alone.

Had her mother not tampered down her birthday celebrations since Lynette’s was so very close and they couldn’t afford double anyway? Had Lynette not deprived her of the teenage experiences she heard her classmates speak of, going out and tasting alcohol for the first time while Mavis followed a ten year old Lynette house to house so she could complain of a stomach ache after she’d devoured all the candy on the walk back home?

And now this! Stealing her few precious items, the few things she bothered to save up for, few things she bothered to keep hidden. For what? It wasn’t as though she was ever going to have the courage to ask a peer of her’s out. She was a thief.

One Mavis had made the mistake of taking care of. She should’ve embraced those stirrings of resentment, should’ve left Lynette to her own devices since Lynette didn’t appreciate anything, or even half of what Mavis afforded her. She should’ve left her out in the cold that Christmas. How could anyone have known? It wasn’t as though corpses could talk--

She had let Lyn take off with the whole case, as if to remind herself when she woke up the next morning what she had considered, how vile the thought was.

Lyn had never done anything unforgivable to Mavis. Mavis didn’t suppose she ever could. It was no fault of Lyn’s she didn’t understand what it was like to live with their father. How could she? It was a topic off limits to Lyn by both Mavis and their mother. After all, a child born blind doesn’t know until it’s pointed out to them.

And yet, she found guilt hard to summon. She did, but the speed at which it came, the strength, made her uneasy. What had happened to the girl she was? Lyn had been her world. What had changed?

Then, dully, that other voice, entirely of its own volition, said You did.

#wip intro #writers on tumblr #writeblr intro #wip #wip introduction #current wips #my writing #writing #current wip #writing community #original wip #tbtd #my work

22 notes · View notes