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#only tagging it so the people abusing the tags can see it btw
frozen-strawberry-cow · 8 months
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bro there's no WAY im talking to an anti on fuckin WHISPER of all places 💀💀💀
not only that, but their arguments are based on a definition of proship/comship that they made up + the standard "WhaT AbOuT tHe aBuSe viCtiMs"
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skyteglad · 2 years
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the desire for people to stop diagnosing their abusers with stigmatized disorders when they are literally not a psychologist and most abusers literally do not care about psychology or therapy at all 😩 they don’t care about getting help, so how do YOU know they have this disorder without using stigma as a basis?
#i keep seeing a lot of talk about 'narcassistic abuse' and people diagnosing every abuser in their life w npd and#LIKE YES SOME PROBABLY HAVE BEEN DIAGNOSED BUT YOU'RE JUST DIAGNOSING THEM USING STIGMA. THAT'S... THAT'S CRUEL LMAO.#saw a post calling everyone w npd an abuser and being the cause of people w bpd and its like... honey...#my abuser who caused my bpd? she doesn't have npd. afaik she hasn't seen a fucking psychologist since she was 16 because she doesn't care#abt therapy. a lot fo abusers.... DON'T CARE ABOUT THERAPY OR GETTING HELP.#you can BE abusive without Abusive Personality Disorder tm (WHICH ISN'T A FUCKING TIHNG BTW.)#it's so gross please guys don't speculate on people's mental health some people are perfectly neurotypical and functional...#and are jsut abusive as shit!#you don't need a mental illness to be abusive and THINKING like that is going to end with you thinking incredibly ableistly!!!#grumbles a lot#things i love value and support: self diagnosis!#things i loathe despise and hate: diagnosing others when you aren't using good faith.#sorry for rambling i'm just so mad dghfkjdkd 'everyone w bpd has bpd bc of people w npd' shut the fuck up are you kidding me kffghdkhgj#i wasn't abused with 'narcassistic abuse' as a child i was abused with physical and emotional abuse. the other thing isn't a fucking thing.#when i WAS abused with what fits 'narcassistic abuse' - it was fucking emotional abuse my guy. that's what it is. the listing of everything#you claim is this is actually fitting into emotional abuse. idk if they have npd i dont CARE if they have npd i only CARE#that i had been abused and harmed. their mental health means NOTHING to me now because they shouldn't have done what#they did no matter what and it isnt an excuse OR an explanation!!! thank you -bows-#riot.txt#i forgot all of my text tags so i hoppe that's the right one
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murphyslawyer · 2 years
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Every damn time I talk to my f*ther I get less and less confident that I'll ever fully be free.
#Johanna speaks#vent in tags#Is it normal that sometimes I just wish he'd beat the shit out of me so that other family members would ACTUALLY want to be on my side?#bc they KNOW I’m right and that he’s a shitty father/person but then they’re just like#'yea but you can't cause conflict bc he's your father and you need him' (by 'you need him' they 100% mean 'you need his money' btw)#Just admit that you don't want to deal with conflict within our family and that you're willing to sacrifice my wellbeing for that#bc he’s not harming you just me. To you he’s just mildly annoying.#And still it would be way easier for them to exclude him than it is for me. Why don’t they just. Do that?#Sure they don’t know about every single thing he’s done but still.#Can't they see that I can never be my true self and speak up when I'm around him??#Do they really think that pathetic sad little apathetic excuse for a person they see whenever he’s here is me?#I just feel so lonely in all of this. I’m starting to think that I’m crazy bc I’m the only one who sees anything wrong in this#Any time I have to spend a little time with him feels like an act of violence. Even if he’s just there and doesn’t talk to me.#There’s no undoing to years and years of manipulation and emotional abuse. Any time he’s here I can’t help but feel like shit.#I must either be crazy or acting like a teenage brat bc if I say I don’t want to be with him#people are just like ‘oh but is he hurting/annoying you so much now?’#like I need new excuses to feel uncomfortable around him#Fuck him. I hope he fucking chokes.#But apparently I’m the one who needs to be gone bc no one gives a shit#edit: that’s not a s*icide threat just let me be#I’m so angry I just want to break stuff
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kneelingshadowsalome · 8 months
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Hi! If you're still taking requests I'd love request a drabble about the moment when Konig and Reader first noticed each other and what they thought/felt during that moment based on your "Just Friends" fic.
Btw I love your work and oh my god, it's perfection, absolutely amazing. Super excited to read chapter 3&4 (no rush take your time!!)
Thabj you!!!
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Even Demons are Lonely
Wordcount: 3.8 k
Summary: König sees reader for the first time. Soon, the promise to never touch someone as lovely as her turns into a vow to never leave her side.
Tags/warnings: F!Reader, König POV, Just Friends universe. Angst, twisted & fluffy feelings, pining, obsessive behavior, stalking, panty stealing, mentions of past trauma, abuse and patricide, yandere!König falling in love (=being delusional). Mild sexual and violent themes. 
A/N: I did take my time with this one... 🩷 And it's only König POV, but I hope you enjoy! 💋
"Abashed the Devil stood, and felt how awful goodness is, and saw Virtue in her shape how lovely – saw, and pined His loss..."
– John Milton, Paradise Lost
Purgatory.
That's the word that stuck to him when he was learning English at school, simply because it was an accurate definition of how he felt.
Adults used to say there is heaven and hell, and then this world, the world of humans, somewhere in between. They said he would go to heaven after he died and that bad people would go to hell.
They were all liars because hell already existed here on Earth. He had lived there ever since he was born.
The first memories of the cutting are shallow and pale, like they happened to some other boy. With every hit and cut and every cry, the sounds turned muddy until he was mute too, until all he could hear was mother's crying and Papa's roaring. The old man always got more mad when people cried and cowered. 
That's when he knew he would someday do something about bad people, that crying and cowering and begging wasn't going to help. It was the birth hour of hope and heaven. He dreamed of killing his father, killing his "friends", killing everyone who looked at him like he was a freak. 
He soon learned that this was not what people associated with heaven at all. He learned that there was a word for people like him, for phantoms who were morbidly interested in death and decay.
Ghoul.
A grave robber and a corpse feaster he was not, but neither was he going to pretend that some people didn't deserve to be gutted. If being normal meant he should just play along and pretend that there was justice in this world, then he was happy to be morbid. A little ghoul boy who grew up in hell, who dreamed of heaven, who slipped behind the thin veil between the worlds when he was four, who learned how to make the knives dance while everyone around him suffered.
He learned to cry and beg before he learned to speak, but when the words finally started to make sense to him, he had no use for them. No one wanted to talk to him, so he settled to observe. Life was a film reel running by, and words were useless when all he wanted to do was roar. There was a growing, gaping maw inside him, shrieking and spitting blood while he was without a voice.
It took a while to make Papa cry and beg. But he begged, eventually. In his last words, he tried to hide behind a woman’s skirt. 
"Don't do this to your mother," was a plea that didn't ignite mercy: it drove him off the ledge. Looking at the horrible excuse for a man squirming at his feet made him realize he should've released his mother from this demon years ago. He was too weak, and he vowed to himself, to the whole world, that he would never be weak again.
………………
Sometimes, a glimpse of true heaven can be seen on a clear summer's day when the sun shines, when bees are buzzing and a beautiful voice sings a love song on the radio. Beautiful, peaceful things only add to his suffering. They are simply evidence gathered – examples of everything he will never have. 
The air clots inside his mask with a brew of old sweat and acrid gunpowder. It's usually enriched by a hot desert wind or the stench of dust and emissions, a city's rotten core. It would feel odd to be met with a fresh breeze or the smell of rust and smoke than have them dampened by the baggy mask. He's certain that it would only be painful to feel the full brunt of the world on his naked face again. His enemies can't see him when he kills them, so they can't haunt him either.
He is the only ghoul here. He is the one who haunts.
He's learned to let love and peace go. He came here to reap; that's his job. Ghouls cannot love or be loved. They are supposed to get rid of the plague, do what normal people can't do, what good people deem hideous and wrong.
People have always been alien to him: they both know something he cannot seem to decode and are unaware of the constant presence of the Maw. He has to feed it in order to not be swallowed by it himself. It helps with the constant yelling for a while. 
His father was the first demon to be punished, but he has learned that all demons are liars when they beg. They don't know what real hell is like. That's why he didn't give mercy to his father, and that's why he doesn't give mercy to them, either. It's not hell, it's not heaven, so he must be in a limbo state in between. 
That's why he calls this place purgatory. 
………………
He sees a woman under the sun one day.
The sheer sight of her sitting there on her little blanket spread over the grass, dressed in a pure white dress is like a torturing dream from above. It stops him in his tracks like there is suddenly an invisible wall in front of him, forcing him to halt.
His heart is pounding, but that's not new. His heart is always tight and racing, and that's why it's better to have a heavy gun in his hands than hold onto nothing at all; it's better to do something than do nothing at all. The only thing that calms the endless roil inside him is work; when there's no work, it helps to go outdoors, somewhere between the shadows between thick trees.
Trees are better than people...
But they're not better than a woman like her.
He knows his mind plays tricks sometimes with females. That is why at first he thinks that the creature before him is not from this world either. How could someone like her even end up here? There are few ladies in the base, and none of them have picnics; none of them look like angels.
She looks up at the sky, at the single cloud drifting across the cerulean blue that hurts his eyes. Sun shines on her exposed throat, her stare is dreamy as she basks in the warmth and raises an apple to her lips. 
He stops breathing as she takes a bite, fearing it might stain the beautiful white dress from how juicy it is. The runaway apple juice drips down her chin, but she catches it with her finger, then sweeps the sweet taste of it back into her mouth. 
Her lips hug the finger gently as she savors the treat, and his breath returns to him, heavy and with a pang, like someone just punched him between the lungs.
She can't be human... 
He wonders if she's even real. 
He's hungry, but the need to devour this woman turns into a need to worship her before he can even decipher what is happening to him. He would grovel at her feet if that's what it took to get her to feed him some of that fruit. His mind goes numb from the need to march there and hug her. Just hold her, so close that he forgets what it is to breathe.
He knows she would only scream, and it's good he's been walking in the shade. It's good that she can't see him unless she turns her head. Because she must be an angel, and angels have no business with ghouls. 
He should go and leave her be... Mortals he can want, humans he can torture, but a celestial being he could never touch. The wind carries a whiff of apple juice to his nose; it overrides the stench of sweat and gun oil and smoke. 
And then the angel turns her head. 
It's Judgment Day, but she doesn't condemn him. She blinks a few times, lashes fluttering like he's another sun, the dreaded black sun, and she can't bear to look directly at him. But there's no disgust, no uneasiness, there's no fear. There's only shyness and the smallest smile. 
The pain inside his gut turns into a brutal stab, pure suffering. He hasn't hoped for anything for a long, long time. Now hope bleeds into his stomach with golden tingles, like those rays of sun that caress her skin.
He thought good things would feel… well, good, but to his horror, they feel painful too. She's painfully sweet. Even the demon inside him falls silent, the only demon he cannot destroy. It's finally quiet, as it should be. Everything in him bows to this greater power of Her. 
But she can't be real... His mind is sick and has finally conjured up the most beautiful thing he can never, ever have. He's been called a freak, he's been called a dumb ugly giant, he's been called so many things, but he's not stupid enough to think that the creature hugged by the golden aura of light is meant for him. 
So he squares his shoulders and pushes through the invisible wall, back behind the veil, back to where he belongs, and leaves the heavenly apparition in the sun.
………………
The next time he sees her is after a mission and inside the base. 
He brings mud and blood inside after a few rainy days spent in the mountains. He's so soaked that not even the 3-hour flight managed to dry all the dirt. She's waiting for him, or that's how it feels like when she gives him a small, relieved smile and starts to clean the mess he and every other operator leave behind.
His angel is not only a celestial visage but a cleaner.
She keeps the building that houses people who destroy life, clean. She scrubs the filth killers like him bring inside the cold, dead compound built on what used to be a forest full of birds, life, and wind through the trees. 
No one thanks this girl as she humbly dusts a table or mops the floor. No one understands that she's a saint for coming to the purgatory and making it a more decent place for the demons and ghouls to live. And she's relieved every time he comes back unharmed. She's happy to see he's alive. There's someone waiting for him. And not just someone, not just anyone, but an angel.
It's unbelievable how no one has claimed her yet. She has no one to keep her safe, and it makes his hands twitch. If he was her protector, she would never have to work again.
She's not like the rest of them: she doesn't turn her gaze away when he flicks a knife out. She likes to watch him make them dance. It's a ritual that makes him invincible on the battlefield. He used to do it every morning before school to stay safe – there were no angels back then to keep him alive.
He almost stops the first time he sees her watching how he goes through the rite. 
No, look away, little angel... You're not supposed to see this; this is a death dance, it's filthy, demonic magic.
But she's not afraid of his blades or the way he weaves his spell of protection. The girl follows his moves entranced. Her eyes shine, and he nearly drops the blade – he hasn't dropped a knife since he was ten – because there's hunger in her stare. Not as fathomless as his, but deep enough for him to recognize it. 
His angel is lonely and trapped too. 
He completes the dance, returns the knife to his pocket, and looks back, straight back.
She doesn't look away. She doesn't wince or lean back, no: she leans forward, and he can see it, the way her pulse flutters on her neck, the way her mouth opens even more, how a tiny pink tongue sweeps across her lips as she looks back into the jaws of damnation. It takes him a while to realize his angel must be wet, just from seeing how good he is with a knife. The notion doesn't only make his cock jolt; it throws him headfirst into the abyss. 
You'll never get rid of me now, the demon growls before he can choke him silent.
Her wet eyes, her wet, promising lips belong in a realm of madness. She's not filthy; his angel could never be filthy. But she's seducing him, which means she might seduce other men too. 
Has someone claimed her already…? 
What if she has a lover? Do they make her legs shake, do they make her mew?
Who does he have to kill?
………………
He breaks into her room that night. 
He only meant to stand watch and see if someone creeps to her in the cover of darkness. He thinks about different ways to kill her lover as he waits near her door. Should he just strangle them when they enter her room? Make her an offering, let her know she could have a far more powerful male if she wants?
No, he must use a knife... She will get wet if he uses a knife.
But no one appears: he is the only shadow in the dark hall, and after midnight, he decides to take a look at his innocent, sleeping angel. Just one look.
Her domain is full of softness, and he has to take a few deep breaths before he continues. Her world is so different from his that he nearly turns back and closes the door to paradise. But then her breathing calls to him, causing him to take a few steps. She sleeps with her window open, likes to listen to the sound of night birds before she falls asleep – just like he does…
The demon is awake in an instant and grabs him by the throat. 
No. 
Don’t look. If you look, she will steal your soul.
He freezes before he reaches her bed. His gaze sweeps her room instead, and the demon pants at the sight. Her dresses are laid out on a clothing rack: they salute him like a row of colorful flowers. Flowing and singing like a river, they hit him with a breeze made of life and all things good. 
She has a little armchair filled with cushions, and there's more softness and beauty everywhere he looks; he can see it even in the darkness of the night. Her delicate perfume that follows him as he follows her around the base lingers in the air and mixes with the distant birdsong and moonlight that shift the curtains in her room.
There's art on her walls, lively houseplants on the window sill, she has collected a cavalcade of cute little things on top of her drawer: nail polish and sea shells and beeswax candles and a piece of driftwood, a bottle of that perfume she uses, decorative lights above it all, placed around a small mirror. 
He wants all of that. 
He wants light and living things and greenery – he never had plants at home – he wants softness and cute little items, he wants to listen if the seashell still roars with the crashing waves were he to bring it to his ear. His mama always told him seashells remember the ocean because it used to be their home…
He wants her to light a honeyed candle and give him a bite of that apple, catch the juice as it runs down his scarred chin, or better yet, kiss it away before it falls. He wants to taste what's between her thighs. She must taste like honey and heaven.
One of the drawers is open, and from it, a torrent of cute little underthings is spilling out; they almost cascade on the floor. In different colors, too, and his hand reaches out and takes one before he can even think. He steals it like it's candy, then turns around with a stiff back and shoulders heavy from the sin he just committed.
He's about to go to the door, but her soft breathing calls him back. He tries to calm the demon - the girl can't steal anything: there's nothing left to steal. He has no soul, so he doesn't have to fear her either. 
Taking a few steps, he takes the peek he shouldn't take because it will only prolong his sentence in purgatory. Little does the demon know that he would suffer eternally for one little glimpse… 
She's not cocooned inside her blanket as he thought she would be. He thought he would find her coiled into a fetal position, curled into safety, but instead, she's sleeping on her back, arms spread next to her face, looking like she just fell from heaven and is feeling a little dizzy from the fall. She's calm and innocent as the moonlight brushes her cheek, her face free from all worry.
Why is she so cute, why is she so sweet? 
She has no right. She should be up in heaven.
He almost crawls on top of her right then and there, because blinding want is nothing compared to this. He wants to breathe her, breathe with her, hold her gently, and have her smile at him when she wakes up. He doesn't want to ruin her… He just wants a taste, see if an angel would like to have a demon worship her. If his worship would mean anything, if it had any power to persuade her to like him... 
He would never kneel before anyone, but he would kneel before her. In spirit, he is on his knees, and the only thing that makes him suffer is the fear that she might not want him, a ruined temple haunted by old, hateful spirits.
The madness was right. Apparently, there was a soul to steal, a tiny broken mosaic piece left, for the angel has it now. She owns what's left of him, the haunted temple is hers if she would ever want to come visit. He would restrain all those monsters so that she can walk freely and explore all the things buried under the rubble.
Her underwear burns his palm like a flower on fire. He only then realizes that there are no actual flowers in her room. He wonders if she would give him a kiss if he were to bring her one. Or two. Or an entire bouquet…
The demon inside cuts him with a searing blade – stupid idiot – she doesn't want to kiss your mauled face or love your ghouls. There's no treasure hidden inside that filthy rubble, there's only shit and blood and festering vomit. Better to just take her right now, see how tight she is, how wide her eyes go when a proper man comes to assert his will and authority. The demon tells him to at least ruin that cute thing in his hand and throw it on the table. Imagine her shocked little face when she wakes up…
Tears brim, and the maw of hell laughs with a roar of raging fire. He forces both down with a swallow and a wrench that shuts his heart.
There's no way she would ever let a man like him inside her. He's a sickness; no, he's an entire plague. He could try to make love to her, and she would only cry and bleed to death.
The smooth place between her brows gains a wrinkle as if she can hear his thoughts but doesn't agree with them. A little whimper escapes her nose, her head nods on the pillow; it looks like an attempt to hide while you're tied and cannot move. 
Pretty angel is having a nightmare, and it's no wonder. Of course she can sense she's being visited by a monster. 
He turns to leave, and notices another colorful thing on the floor: her underwear, and not clean. She's slipped out of it before bed: his angel is naked under that blanket. His angel sleeps naked…
He wonders if she has touched herself before sleep. Not with feverish, stern hands, like he does, but softly, under that blanket, with her features melting into pleasure as she comes with sighs and a series of desperate little whimpers. 
His blood turns to hellfire as he drops the underwear he's holding. It falls right next to the intoxicating thing he picks up instead. Taking a deep inhale, he can finally smell her. Not just her perfume, but her. She smells of an angel and a woman, raw, perfect woman, and he knows he's lost. This is worse than any dream or demon; this is worse than anything ever before. There's no going back now. 
Her scent calls to him, those hands frame her face in a gesture of surrender. She smiled at him on that day under the sun, and she smiled at him today.
What if he's spent enough time in hell? What if it's possible to have a taste of heaven?
He can't help but wonder if his angel wants this too... 
“Engel,” he whispers into the night.
It takes only a second before she whimpers again. It's an answer, it's a yes, and his heart is full of tiny needles; they pinch him with terrible love and hope. The wrinkle has smoothed out, and his angel is smiling very, very softly. 
She's calling for him. How could he refuse?
His angel is full of light as he makes his decision. He whispers his apology, only in his mind and only in German, trusting that angels must know every language in the world. He asks for her forgiveness for all the things he's about to do to her. Then he promises he will come for her, that she doesn't need to worry: she has a guardian now and always will. She will be forever safe with him by her side. He will drive even her nightmares away.
Then he returns to his room so different from hers, returns to the realm of death and worships the thing he just stole, spraying it with hot, white love - the only thing inside him that can be called pure, the color of angels. It's only a matter of time before he gets to worship her in the flesh, unite with her, the soul who forgave his sins and slipped him the key to heaven.
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thecuriousquest · 5 months
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Dabi x reader who attempts suicide ? Love your fics btw, def my fav writer x
Death, Sweet Death
Thanks for the support, homie! Much appreciated!
Tag List: @issamomma @repostingmyfavs @chickennugnugnug
Warnings: Yandere themes, NSFW because of suicide attempt by hanging, branding, abusive quirk use, burning, a bit of touchy-touchy at the end, arson reference, tiny bit of blood
EXTRA WARNING NOTE: I don’t condone any of these actions. You are responsible for the content that you consume. If you are struggling with depression/mental health, please seek the help of a professional. I love all of you darlings very much. Please, for the love of fuck, stay safe in this world. 🖤🤘I understand that this can be a coping mechanism for a lot of people (as it is for me as well), but I just felt the need to say this.
Master List
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So, you tried to kill yourself. This couldn’t have gone any worse for you. It would have been better if the sweet angel of death had found you but no. Nothing ever goes your way. Instead, Dabi finds you clawing at the rope around your throat as you hang from the shower rod in the bathroom you two share.
He immediately rushes into action, burning the rope until it’s on its last string before roughly yanking you into his arms. He unties the rope from your throat with quick and scarred hands.
The flame thrower crouches down on the bathroom floor, transitioning into a sitting position while holding you in his lap. You open your eyes, gazing up at him.
“Fuck…” you cough.
“Yeah, ‘fuck’ is right. What the hell, Y/N? What the fuck were you thinking?!”
“Oh, I don’t know. I really wanted to see ghosts and shit. The fuck do you think I was trying to do, asshole?” There’s a bite in your voice, prickling with pent up poison. You’re infuriated that he stopped you from finding the sweet release you’ve been craving after two years of putting up with this psycho!
“You really wanna get mouthy with me, doll face? Think that’s a good idea right now? I oughta make you beg for death. Should make you hurt so badly it’ll be all you fucking think about. It’s only fair, right? After you just tried to take the one thing I love away from me.”
He holds your face with one hand right at the base of your jaw. He gazes into your E/C orbs with lightning blue ones. It’s as if an electrical storm is glaring right at you. A deep rumble fills his chest with something akin to a growl.
“You’re mine. You always have been, and you always will be. I’m not letting you go. Quit trying to fight me, quit trying to fight everything I give you and do for you. Just…fucking stop.”
Your hands shake as you try to force his hand off of your jaw. “Please, Dabi, I don’t want to live like this anymore. I don’t want to live like a captive.”
“Well, maybe, if you had been more open to living with me in the beginning, I wouldn’t have had to do all of this.”
You sit up straighter in his lap, your nails digging into burnt flesh. “You burned down my apartment building! There were people and animals that died!”
“I did it all for you!” he shouts back in your face. “What choice did I have?”
You smack the sleeve of his jacket. “NOT THAT ONE OBVIOUSLY!”
Yelling, back and forth. It’s all that fills the air as you two argue about your current situation until Dabi is so fed up with you that he picks you up and takes you into the bedroom only to literally body slam you on the mattress. It knocks everything out of you, and you struggle to breathe as he removes his heavy hand from your sternum.
He picks up something that you haven’t seen in a while, something you’re not keen on being forced on your body again.
The chains. If he can’t trust you by yourself while he’s gone, then he’ll go through extra measures to make sure you don’t do anything to try to escape or hurt yourself.
It’ll ease his worries while he leaves you tormented at home.
You scream, trying to fight him as he wrestles you for your ankle. You kick him in the nose, causing droplets of blood to leak from his nostril. He wipes it away with the back of his hand before lighting his palms on fire and grabbing your calf. You cry out in pain, wailing to the ceiling with how much agony you’re in. You can feel your flesh bubbling, melting like wax as he brands you with his hand.
Then, you hear the clink and click of the chain closing around your limb, and you look down at the chain attached to your ankle. You lie back on the pillow, a quivering hand covering your mouth so as not to give him the satisfaction of hearing anymore of your whimpers or sobs.
He looks down at you, wanton revenge expressed clearly with the curl of his patchwork lips, the metal binders rising with his wicked grin.
“Now, for punishments. How do we make sure you learn that you’re mine and that you’re not going anywhere?” For the third time that night, Dabi engulfs his hand with a cobalt flame. “Any ideas? I’ve got a few.”
This is your only chance to get out of whatever fucked up punishment he has in store for you.
“C-come on, Dabi. Can’t you just hold me right now?”
Something flashes in his eyes, something dark and twisted, causing his lopsided grin to grow even wider.
“I mean, I could really use some affection right now. Maybe that would help?”
“Some affection, huh? Want me to run my hands all over that soft little body?”
You look down at your ankle, a good reminder of your situation. Glancing back up at him, you nod your head.
“I guess I could always just hold off on punishing you until tomorrow. Mental health and all that good shit, right?”
“Yeah…thank you.”
He shrugs off his coat and gets into the bed behind you, holding you plush against his chest. His hands roam, but you allow it.
What good would come of denying him the one thing he truly loves?
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tessiex17 · 3 months
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MY CHILDREN I HAVE PROVIDED YOU WITH ANOTHER RAYMAN FIC
You will be happy to hear that this is a 2 parter (second part is in development) since this is infact already 2,147 words WHICH IS KINDA LONG FOR ONE CHAPTER
This does have a fem reader BTW!!!
Short description: set when rayman is attending collage in America before he became famous and he gets invited to a party where he meets y/n
(Also if there are any mistakes/errors in my spelling PLZ let me know as written helps me improve with my dyslexia so any feedback will be amazing 😋)
Tw: alot of swearing, smoking and alcohol, abusive behaviour
"What am I doing?"
Rayman muttered to himself regretfully as he walked down the cold grid iron streets to the address the party was supposedly located. Rayman has always been a social creature, he loved the idea of meeting new people and going on adventures with them but that mindset had been slowly chipped away during his time in America. Specifically American school. He struggled to make social connections in his classes and was quickly deemed an outcast by his peers which was heart breaking for Rayman because he know it was only because he was alien, the people that liked to make fun of him made that fact pretty clear. It was something he couldn't change and even though he didn't choose to look the way he does or be where he's from he still got hate for it and he never really understood why.
Which is why he was shocked when he was invited to a house party by one of his class mates. He just knew he couldnt miss this opportunity to finally mend his social status and make a friend! Which leads him here. Walking towards the door of a house he's never been at before. He let's out a Sigh before raising his fist and firmly knocking the door. He knew he was at the right place, the sound of music and enthusiastic people could be heard quite clearly through the door (it made him almost feel bad for the neighbours).
Before rayman had the chance to knock once more the door swung open revealing the very drunk but very happy class mate that invited Rayman in the first place
"BROOO! You made it! I thought you where gonna be a no show"
The class mate ushered rayman in shutting the door behind him.
"Hehe what can I say, im a man of my word"
Rayman chuckled slightly nervous but intertained by how friendly his class mate was being. He finally takes a look around the house to see that this party was a lot bigger than he thought. There was at least 10 people in each room. Some where in groups chatting away to eachother, some where playing drinking games and others where dancing. A small smile started to grow on raymans face. Everyone seemed to be having fun so it shouldn't be so hard for him to join in right?
"If you wanting a drink feel free to grab whatever you want in the kitchen!"
The drunk class mate spoke a lil more slurred but still sounding enthusiastic. Rayman just gave him a smile and a small thanks before watching him stumble back to a group of people he must have been previously chatting with. 'Now what?' Rayman asked himself as he looked around anxiety curling in his gut like a snake. Does he just go up and chat to someone? He decides before doing anything he should take his coat off which he then hung up on the pegs by the door. He walks further into the house seeing people having fun. ' they make it look so easy' he thought to himself sullenly but a small creature in the corner of his vision distracts him from his thoughts.
"A cat!"
Rayman says aloud to himself before following the cute Calico cat into the kitchen. He doest pay much mind to the people as they seem to be talking amongst themselves. He crouches down In front of the cat petting it gently
"Arnt you just a sweetheart~"
He cous while scratching behind the cats ear. He spots a purple collar and a little silver name tag around the cats neck reaching for it to find out what the cats called. He flips the little silver tag and reads it
"Well hello kaya, aret you a cutie~"
Kaya looks at him Acknowledging he is speaking to her. She let's out a high pitch soft meow that makes rayman chuckle. He always loved animals.
"Of course your making friends with the animals considering you practically are one"
A voice filled with poison and Sadistic Humor spoke from behind him. He looked away from the cat and up to the owner of the voice. It was a guy in a very generic outfit and a blue hat.
"Excuse me?"
He spoke confuse hoping maybe the guy was meaning it as some sort of distasteful joke? Oh lord how he hoped.
"Who the fuck invited this thing to the party!"
Blue hat guy shouted loudly while pointing at rayman looking around the room as he did so. A few people began to giggle and rayman could feel all hope for having a fun night disappear.
"I'm not a 'thing' dipshit!"
Rayman retorted embarrassment making his face feel hot.
"Well what are you then huh?"
He leaned in close to raymans face. There was a short moment of silence before he continued
"Because all I can see is some sort of alien freak!"
The smell of alcohol was reaking from his breath. Rayman didn't like how close he was. How angry he was getting the more he talked. He opened his mouth to speak.
"I-"
"What the fuck is your problem!"
An angry feminine voice spoke causing both rayman and the drunk guy to turn and face her. She stormed towards the both of them before pushing the drunk guy away from rayman.
"You asshole!, what gives you the right to speak to anyone like that!"
Oh lord was this girl mad. Rayman looked up at her in disbelief as she shouted at the guy who was previously insulting him. Was she defending him? She stood tall in front of rayman making sure she was blocking him out of the drunk guys line of site.
"Hes a fucking freak just look at him!"
The drunk guy slurred his words trying to justify his point but the scowl on the girls face just grew deeper.
"Your fucking disgusting"
She spoke lowly to him
"Thinking you have the right to speak to somone like that, do you think your better than him because he's not from here or something?"
She asked with genuine confusion In her voice
"Is that why? Do you feel more entitled than him because he looks different from you?, because if that's the case then that sound pretty fucking racist if you ask me"
She quirks her brow as if asking a question. He stays silent but his anger is clear on his face
"Men like you disgust me"
She spoke her words laced with anger before she turned around and faced rayman. She jerked her head to the side indicating towards the door
"Let's go"
She said kindly to Rayman who looked up at her like she was some sort of godess that saved him. He nodded quickly before grabbing his jacket and following her outside.
"Well that was a shit show"
He muttered to himself while following after her. She made her way to the sidewalk before taking a seat on the edge of it. She looked over to rayman and patted the place next to her offering him to sit down which he does. The air is chillie enough to see your breath as a moment of silence fell apon them. She pulled a packet of cigarettes out her pocket before offering one to him which he decides to take.
"Thank you..."
Rayman spoke timidly.
"Not just for the cigarette obviously but for everything that went on in there"
That got a little giggle out of her. She brought the cigarette up to her lips taking a long inhale of it.
"It's okay, that guys was being a prick"
She faced rayman with a slightly sullen expression.
" I'm y/n, I don't think I got your name?"
"It's rayman... thank you y/n"
She chuckled again a small smile growing on her face.
"You've already thanked me"
She spoke sweetly
"besides I couldn't just stand and watch. That guy was being cruel for literally no reason"
"People stand and watch all the time"
Rayman spoke sadly but honestly his eyes avoiding hers
"Your the first person who hasn't..."
He looked back up at her to see her intently watching him. There was something behind her eyes he couldn't quite place. Anger?, sadness?, he wasn't sure but he just knew that the feelings weren't directed at him.
"Don't say that man, your gonna make me cry"
She joked half heartdly the sound of her voice wavering was clear.
"Oh nonono!, im so sorry!"
Rayman spoke in a panic
"I wasn't trying to upset you-"
"No no, don't worry!"
She placed a finger over his lips in order to get him to stop talking. He's silent. Pleading eyes staring up to gentle one's as she moves her hand away from his mouth.
"It just makes me upset that nobody was willing to help you before. Don't feel like you need to sensor yourself for my benefit"
She spoke softly to him. Rayman was starting to feel like he didn't have to be so much on edge now that it was just them two alone which was new for him. Usually he had to be more alert if hes gonna be by himself with somone. Even thought he didn't know y/n that much he still felt safer alone with her than back in the house. She took a deep drag from her cigarette and so did he.
They sat there together for a while. Talking and laughing between cigarettes and alcohol. Y/n decided to share a good few bottles of her own alcohol with rayman. It wasn't the nicest of drink but it was good enough and strong too. It didn't take long for the both of them to be intoxicated. They where sitting closer together now the alcohol making them loose the concept of personal space as they chatted.
"Hey this place blows, why don't we go back to my place?"
Y/n suggested as she took another swig out her bottle
"We have been sitting outside getting drunk ourselves, would be warmer at yours too"
Rayman spoke semi to himself as he pondered on the idea
"Kmonnnn~"
Y/n whined as she grabbed one of raymans shoulders and shook him playful chanting "My house! My house!" Over and over while laughing
"Okay okay!"
Rayman laughed placing his hand ontop of the one y/n placed on his shoulder in hopes it would get her to stop shacking him
"It is better than staying outside the party we kinda just walked out on"
He chuckled as he stood up reaching a hand out for y/n to help her up. She takes it as rayman pulls her up onto her feet. Y/n thanks him before giving herself a big stretch followed by a pleased groan
"Ahh~ Alright!, let's go!"
She glanced over the floor making sure she didn't leave anything behind before looking at rayman a smile spreading across her face.
"We're actually not that far from my house probably like a 10-15 minute walk roughly"
She tilts her head a little to see if raymans okay with that. He gives her a smile and a goofy thumbs up.
"All good, lead the way!"
He smiled enthusiastically. Y/n just laughs before turning around and walking down the street. She checks over her shoulder to see if rayman is following and motions with her hand for him to catch up. Rayman jogs up next to her before sticking to a walking pace. He doesn't know if it's the alcohol or not but he's having more fun tonight than he has in a while but whatever it is he doesn't want this good feeling to go away. Then suddenly y/n gasps
"Oh my god! I just released somthing"
Y/n spoke in a shocked voice
"What is it?"
Rayman look up to her worried as they walked.
"I can order McDonald's!"
Rayman playful hits her shoulder while chuckling
"You bitch, I though you where gonna say something serious"
"I am serious!"
They both laughed as they walked
"Somthing to eat does sound good though"
Rayman agreed and nodded with this idea they began cooking up
"I just want food"
Y/n whined as she walked down the street and before they knew it they where at her house.
"Home~ glorious home~"
Y/n sung aloud to herself while approaching the door making rayman chuckled in amusement. She reached into her pocket and pulled out her key sticking it into the door and opening it. She stood to the side of the door before doing a little bow while gesturing rayman to enter
"Ladies first?"
She teased as rayman walked by rolling his eyes but the smirk on his face was hard to hide. She chuckled at his lack of a reaction before closing the door behind them
End of chapter 1
So what did u guys thinkkkkk 😋😋
I gave the reader and rayman a silly lil dynamic bc I love bammy interactions I think it's so funny so I made them bams
If you have any feedback LMK and i wanna hear ur opinions of if it should stay platonic between rayman and the reader or should I make it more romantic 🤭
THANK U FOR READING IF U MADE IT THIS FAR XOXO
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rayasland · 1 month
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You ought to learn how the tags on this website work, the definition of pedophilla, and how to prevent trivialising acts of pedophilla against children. Focus your efforts on real children, instead of bitching about authors aging characters up, ie. Imagining them as fictional adults and not thinking about abusing fictional children.
Your behaviour is not productive, and not benefiting anyone. Advocate for real children being sexually abused, it will be a far better use of your time. + Puritanism is inherently bad and hinders on depriving us of our rights.
ok
[edit] oh mb i didnt actually read it gimme a sec b4 i reply
[edit2] the excessive use of the tags were on purpose, just scroll if u find that annoying or send someone asks whos constantly doing it
im aware of how they work, it was just a way to get peoples attention cuz we all know nobody would see it without them. im also now aware of the fact i may have over done it with the tags, i didn’t register how many i “clogged up”
u couldve moved along instead of wasting UR time writing this
even if its not real its just… weird to do theres nothing more to say
the post wasnt meant to say “pedophillia against real children isnt as important as aging up anime kids and we shouldnt pay attention to them” just seeing how many people agree with me abt whats on that post and if u dont or js dont think its important dont bother interacting please🙏🏾
i do agree w u that we should advocate for real children going through sa which im pretty sure a lot of people are already doing, but i wanted to bring to light how normalised js writing smut for minors(although fictional) is and how justifying it by saying “its a character” or saying “i aged them up” is strange
part of my point is writing smut involving underage anime characters, even if they are "aged up" or fictional, is still inappropriate and can contribute to the normalization of harmful behaviors irl as well as minors objectification because even if they’re “aged up” in your head it doesnt erase the fact you’re fantisizing over a fictional character who is meant to be treated and viewed as a child
also idfk what puritans rlly are only that they’re a different version of catholic which i dont know of either so idk what u mean there
this was written late at night if sum doesnt make sense lmk have a great day
btw im adding tags AGAIN to spite u 💋(referring to all that went in my asks to complain abt it)
thats all im saying for now im going to bed 🫡
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amazeingartist · 6 months
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ok art’s not working rn but I still wanna share ghostsoap in my zombie au here too after seeing a bunch of the cod zombies stuff on twitter (I’m very autistic about zombie and since tumblr doesn’t really have a limit y’all will get more info. depression works hard, but autism works harder /j)
anyway tags for any of y’all who don’t vibe with this type of content
CW: zombies, so cannibalism, body horror (mutation based zombies they’re not the rotting kind), gore mentions, a little bit of death (not proper mcd)
(Will update if I’ve missed a tag)
AU CONTEXT:
SO the timeline is set far into the future of the zombie apocalypse where anything zombie related is very normal and apart of everyday life with relics and stories to the old word. Humanity is kinda thriving, there’s technology, medicine, secure food sources, water, functional cities & towns, overall the quality of life is pretty good, it’s a lil sci-fiy but not overly so.
The specific zombie strain to is a mutation based one, so there’s different zombie types and it affects all living things; herbivores are the only type of infected that’s non-aggressive unless provoked, while all carnivorous/predatory animals and certain omnivores are always hostile. Regardless of aggression, the disease can be easily transmitted via blood, bites, scratches, ingestion of contaminated products, and saliva depending on the zombie type. (fun fact—zombie cows are a thing and are used to deter attacks on living/healthy livestock)
GHOAP TIME
Anyway, world building context done (for now), Ghost & Soap are partners in “community security”, meaning they are to deal with threats to the livelihood/safety of people. They mostly work with towns since towns have less means to protect themselves—cities have fences and walls which are patrolled whereas towns outside a city might only have a simple fence and a couple zombie cows—from the hordes, raiders or particularly bothersome zombie types, while occasionally doing specialised work in the cities.
Ghost is blight, a humanoid zombie that has retained their human consciousness despite turning, while Soap is a delayed, a immune human who’s blood can used to suppress the affects of infection for via regular prescribed shots. Both are incredibly rare btw, (for both human and zombie) and are literally an ideal working pair because blight’s are highly infectious to the point where their drool is a safety hazard (one of the reasons they’re muzzled), but since Soap’s immune there’s no risk. Blight’s are also susceptible to unexpectedly going feral which Soap prevents by keeping Ghost in touch with his humanity; literally Soap’s lack of fear of Ghost is what helps them be a perfect working pair (that and Ghost genuinely enjoying Soap’s company).
So yeah, they patrol for raiders and redirect any wandering corpses frequently, with the occasionally job from some regular folk that’s too dangerous to do themselves—just all things that genuinely help people keep and feel safe.
Unfortunately for Soap, when dealing with zombies he can’t hide or mask himself as easy a regular person, a problem Ghost, unless displaying aggression, doesn’t have on account of being an actual zombie. Soap does abuse his immunity though, throwing himself in front of others to act as a meat shield and protect them from infection. Cause of that though his body is littered in scars of bite and scratch marks (zombies that harm Soap usually don’t exist for much longer if Ghost’s around)
As a blight, Ghost’s mutated state is centred around his human base but has elements of other zombie types; from pale and dark veiny skin, his jaw and throat are split into mandibles which Ghost needs a custom compression mask to be able talk, his arms have exposed boney spines/blades that are both retractable and can be used as projectiles (throwing knife equivalent), his nails are basically claws + are also somewhat retractable, and over certain parts of Ghost’s body are have bone plating as armour. It’s unclear the exact limit of Ghost’s capabilities as it’s near impossible to test him as he hates doctors/labs, (the reason he’ll consistently stepping into a lab for is for a blood transfusion/feed).
[^^^may be updated as I think more about this au]
Little Ghoap moment, but Soap will help Ghost in his upkeep of himself by either filing down Ghost’s claws or brushing the rows and rows of sharp teeth for any bits of stuck flesh and to keep an excess buildup of bacteria from forming. It’s literally something only Soap can do, both cause he’s immune and because Ghost only feels comfortable letting Soap help. It’s not an process that should take very long, but Soap is meticulously and after holding Ghost’s mandibles awkwardly extended for some time, he’ll gently massage the muscles; despite the horror it’s actually a pretty sweet gesture. When they’re off duty Soap’ll unlock Ghost’s muzzle and massage his face after being compressed for a couple days too (Soap’s one of the few people with the authority to unlock Ghost’s muzzle)
and uh yeah. I think that the end of that for now, hope it’s enjoyable. I’m combing my current hyperfixation with an idea/project I’ve been working on for years and is quite dear to me so there’s a lot of information to share lmao. feel free to ask any questions if there are any, preferably via the asks but comments are fine too (just I can tag asks together)
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bigtiddythanos · 7 months
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sweet nightmares 🌒 headcanon edition!
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warnings: 18+ content, MINORS DNI!!! heavy spoilers for sandman (both the show & act 1 of the audio drama/comics), light implications of dub con? (power dynamics do be dynamicing), mentions of smut, general dark & horror related themes :))
word count: 2.7k
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a/n: welcome to part 1 of 2 or possibly 3 depending on how the fic comes out for my contribution to @roguelov's sweet nightmares nightmare!Dream event! this could post technically be considered as a sort of prequel/appetizer for my actual sweet nightmares fic to come, since this is essentially setting up how i personally interpret the concept of nightmare!Dream and how that will affect the fic. i'm hopefully gonna put it out by mid october, just in time for spooky season! also, not only will i be pulling inspo from the show itself, but also from the INCREDIBLE sandman audio drama i stumbled across on audible (it's a more direct retelling of the graphic novels which are definitely more dark and graphic with their content, so reader/listener discretion is advised), along with the incredible art work i've seen floating around the nightmare!Dream tag (specifically from @alexxuun! 🖤). credit goes to @cafekitsune for the reblog banner and @sweetparty for the black rose divider!
now with all that laid out on the table, let’s dive right into the darker side of the Dreaming!
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right off the bat, i tend to view nightmare!Dream as sort of a younger version of himself from before the events of the show and some of the graphic novels. he hasn’t had that more in-depth human connection and experience with people like Rose and Jed, or Hob, or Constantine yet, and also he severely lacks the humbleness that can only come with being moodily imprisoned by humans in a giant fishbowl for 100 years lmao
now, if we know anything from the accounts of people who knew Dream before his capture (like other residents of the Dreaming & ESPECIALLY former lovers), we can all easily conclude that he wasn’t exactly the nicest Endless around back in the day. this is the guy who Fiddler's Green knew to never apologize for his mistakes, the guy who Calliope (someone he supposedly cherished dearly and even had a child with) said would not have come to her rescue after being captured, tortured, and sexually abused, the guy who put Nada, one of the only humans he’s ever truly loved, in a CAGE in HELL for ETERNITY for “betraying his trust” (quick aside on that btw: for those who aren't familiar with the comics/audio drama, they have a whole episode of backstory dedicated to Nada; a long time ago, she didn’t want to become his wife/queen because humans and the Endless mixing is super forbidden and almost always spells out disaster for the universe, and ESPECIALLY for other humans. Dream though had absolutely no regard for the consequences of his actions at ALL when pursuing her, and thus caused the destruction of her entire kingdom and all the people in it! AND THEN HE HAD THE AUDACITY TO SEND HER TO HELL WHEN SHE STILL DIDN'T WANT TO BE HIS QUEEN AFTER ALL THAT. even though the episode frames it as just one telling of the whole story, the ramifications are literally insane.) all in all, it's definitely safe to say that, while he might not be completely and totally evil at this point, he sure is one cruel motherfucker when he wants to be.
there is something to be said though that crosses over from the Dream we know and love today and this younger version of himself - they’re both EXTREMELY possessive and borderline territorial, but this version goes about it in a more intense and objectifying way. nightmare!Dream sees everyone and everything he rules and desires (even if he wouldn’t openly admit to desiring it because that’s his sibling’s department lol) as his and his alone, almost like a kid who won't let anyone else play with his toys.
if someone else does try to play with his toys though? this man will, with an eerily and stomach-churning calm, walk that person into the next room, only for their wails and horrific screams to echo through the entirety of the Dreaming, and maybe even bleed into the Waking world. Dream takes advantage of a very important aspect of the human psyche - he absolutely throws the rule of "show don't tell" into the dumpster, simply letting their imaginations run wild and jump to conclusions for him about what could cause such a terrified and desperate cry for mercy. that usually seems to suffice for keeping his subjects and anyone else who wants to step up to him in line, most of the time anyways.
to nicely pair with his near feral territorial tendencies like a fine cheese with wine, the other side of the coin shows quite a stern but still somewhat caring benevolence despite everything with his subjects, and even a special sort of “tenderness” as he calls it with his own prized and most cherished creations - although admittedly, with a power dynamic difference almost as vast as Ishmael’s fucking white whale, said favorites of the king can’t help but feel somewhat obligated to obey his commands lest they provoke his wrath, even if they do so willingly.
if, theoretically, he found that one of his favorite subjects maybe yourself disobeyed him for some reason, he’s more gentle than he would be with a stranger or a challenger of his power. he simply just reminds them of their place, of his status over them, in a way he sees fit…and sometimes those reminders may or may not include him fucking you them absolutely senseless to remind them just how little and powerless they truly are compared to him, how they hold a small near-microscopic morsel of his true power since he made them from his own essence and magic, how he could essentially obliterate their entire existence at any moment if he so chooses (and he totally would with how petty and childish he can turn on a dime). of course though, this is only one punishment in his vast catalogue of them, but we'll get to more later.
as far as physical appearances go, i have him divided across two different “forms” so to speak: the one where he’s just a bit colder, more unfeeling, more immature and especially prickly, but can still maintain his composure and therefore his average form…and then, of course, there’s the terrifying nightmare creature he whips out on special occasions to really horrify people, dreams, nightmares - if it has the capacity to feel fear, it’s definitely afraid of him when he’s like this. think of it like that one sleep paralysis demon you’ve seen at the end of your bed that just stares, and stares, and stares, burning endless holes into you with his cold, starry pupils, almost like he's been lurking there the whole time you've been awake, alive even, skulking and preparing for the day when he can devour you whole…and perhaps, he does.
as much as i love the interpretations i’ve seen in fan art and other fics, i see Dream’s nightmare form as more of a shapeshifter - something that, like a lot of things implied in the entire show, only becomes realized if you truly believe in them. his most basic nightmare form is almost a type of shadow, an undefined creature looming and enshrouded in a dark mist that mimics the pitch black sky, its only discernible trait being the pin prick stars that sit where his eyes should be. it surrounds you faster than you can scream, it fills your lungs like a deep, terrible smoke, loads your stomach with a heavy, unmoving dread, disorients your trains of thought and makes you absolutely nauseated, but also somehow…euphoric? pain, pleasure, & fear are scarily close in the brain, after all. you feel it wind and tighten around your throat, cutting off your breathing. you feel nails - claws? talons? blades? - pressing, nearly piercing into your skin with a tight grip that rivals the pressure of the deepest ocean depths, holding you down and keeping you right where he - it - wants you.
after that, it seeps into the subconscious of the victim it has in it's grasp, and takes an improvised form in the shape of whatever would most conveniently terrify said victim - a horrifying beast, a former jealous lover, hell, even Lucifer Morningstar themselves! or even just the more simple (and frankly logical given the circumstances) shape of an enraged dream lord that's hell bent on your absolute destruction by any and all means necessary.
if you’ve been a particular piece of work to deal with, he’ll play one of his favorite little games with you that’s totally not at all based on my favorite scene in Bram Stoker’s Dracula where he’ll send you off to the middle of a large, never ending maze, it’s hedges growing endlessly into the sky along with thick, unpruned thorns, and just enough fog to add to the eerie ambiance of it all. a heavy growl echoes through the air - something terrible, something beyond human fear and comprehension, and most importantly, something that is now actively chasing you. vicious vines swat and cut at your ankles and arms, the noxious fog disarms and disorients you, the gravel path beneath you almost pulls your feet in further with every quick yet somehow sluggish step you take forward, away from whatever awaits from behind you…
this next hc is one i technically hold for normal Dream, but especially do for nightmare!Dream - this man is ice cold to the touch. if he wasn't an immortal being, you'd almost wonder how he wasn't on an embalming table with how sterile and chilling his skin is. he tends to radiate this chill too (i like to feel like all nightmares do to some extent, with the possible exception of The Corinthian for trying to blend in with humans to escape his master, but i haven't decided yet). also, his skin starting at the fingertips will start to turn jet black as he starts to dissolve into his more ghastly nightmare form, and boy you better have a jacket because whatever room you have the displeasure of being in with him will definitely be below freezing.
interestingly, something else that i realized is that nightmare!Dream would also still have all of his tools since this is an older version of himself. maybe there’s a secret cowardice that hides behind the fact he does essentially hinge on these tools to do his job and run the Dreaming, but he does make them look good regardless when he uses them. the one i want to mainly focus on right now though is his ruby - it's something the other residents of the Dreaming rarely see, unless he's in the middle of making (or more likely absolutely obliterating) a new dream or nightmare. he wears it around his neck still, but it's always tucked away under his cloak and whatever shirt he’s wearing, almost like its fused to his chest. he treats it almost like a cursed treasure, something out of an old fairy tale like that rose in Beauty and the Beast or maybe even the time stone from Doctor Strange - either way, he would never part with it willingly, let alone let it out of his sight; you'd honestly probably have to rip it off his cold dead body to even get a glance at it.
there’s definitely a good reason for his protectiveness though, not just because it's a powerful tool - you see, unlike the cold, unfeeling Lord of the Dreaming, the ruby is warm, toasty even, always radiating a comforting heat as if you were bundled up by a cozy fireplace after a long day of playing in the snow. its glow is warm and inviting, almost entrancing if you look at it for too long - unless, that is, you’re an entity of the dreaming that’s not our dear Dream himself. from a distance it still remains a comforting, manageable ember, but Morpheus was not a fool when he constructed these tools to conduct and channel his powers - if a curious dream or envious nightmare somehow managed to swipe it from beneath his nose and hold onto it for too long, the prolonged exposure would greet them with the horrifying sensation of a slow, deliberate, deep-rooted burning, as if their insides had been coated with gasoline and set on fire with napalm. it’s intense, but unlike a real flame it doesn’t rapidly consume its host - it aims to make the process of absolute destruction as terrible and painful as possible, until nothing is left but a skull or other object as an identifier of that particular dream/nightmare's design, and of course, the ruby, sitting atop a pile of sand and ash like any other innocent trinket one could have in their possession. of course, it doesn't completely destroy any entity of the dreaming that comes into contact with it, but seeing as someone would likely have to wrongfully steal the ruby in the first place to get this far, there’s a more than likely chance that Morpheus would only bring them back to torture them further, but the ruby’s punishment would satiate his darker cravings for the moment. (mind you, all of this is added on top of the devastating effect the ruby can have on the human mind, as shown by John Dee in the show and the comics.)
as far as the demented qualities of his other tools, the sand is pretty much already spoken for with how horrific and terrible it can be (looking at you Alex Burgess and Rachel), so it makes sense that the helm should also get its time in the spotlight. i get why it’s a more underutilized tool of his since it's really only a ceremonial headpiece in the comics, and even with its ability to track down his ruby in the tv show it still doesn't add much value as a tool, as it serves more as a symbol of the Dreaming and Morpheus himself as a whole. i know he also didn't make the helm since it's supposedly some body part from a long dead god, but that’s enough information to take this simple sigil and crank it up a notch for the sake of horror :))
seeing as Dream most likely won this helm in combat - how else are you supposed to get the bones of a dead god these days - there has to be some magical energy conserved from the beast he fought eons ago. i feel like the helm almost has a Mask-like quality - and no, i don't mean a literal mask, i do in fact mean the 1994 Jim Carey movie The Mask or SCP-049 even, iykyk - where it attaches to Dream’s face at will when he wears it, making any opponent or curious stranger unable to take it off of him without ripping his head off (not that you could manage that anyways). it could only be taken off if he chooses to remove it, is knocked unconscious, or somehow loses part of his power (we do have to keep it somewhat consistent with how he gets kidnapped and eventually loses it lol).
i like to think it also imbues Dream with a near destructive amount of physical strength, a result of some dark, long dead aura that still remains around the object itself - one that also happens to protect it from being taken or put on by others when Dream isn't using it. it's also an aura that seeks to protect Dream, or even act as a sort of gas mask that allows him to breathe in sand from his pouch to sustain himself while he dwells in the Waking world (since i feel like this version of Dream is slightly more limited to the dreaming in some ways, since he is told by Lucienne that dreams don't survive long in the waking world, and even though he is nightmare!Dream, he still is a dream at his core).
as per usual with my other head canon posts, i like to finish off with some quick fire hcs for funsies :))
while this version of Dream is very intense and very vengeful, i feel like when he comes down from something particularly strenuous he goes on an intense bender of infiltrating other people's dreams for food and drink (kinda similar to the scene in the audio drama where he's surfing through dreams to find some food after being released from capture since he can only eat stuff that shows up in other people's dreams, which is forever intensely funny to me for some reason)
this version of Dream THRIVES around Halloween and i'm not just saying that because i'm going to publish my fic in october lol and even takes an unadmitted delight in wandering around haunted house attractions or Halloween festivals, and without fail at least one person thinks he's some actor who works there with how naturally unsettling he looks (he probably even cryptically thanks the actors for spreading his nightmares after not even flinching at their jumpscares and just walks off like a weirdo)
this man is hardcore and kinky as fuck, definitely into bondage and leather among other things (probably where The Corinthian gets it from tbh...) but may or may not also secretly have a worship kink that totally doesn't go both ways if you play your cards right
unlike our super moody Dream in the show who sits at the bottom of the stairs of his throne like he just got tossed out of a Hot Topic for not being emo enough, this Dream actually uses his throne while punishing and ruling his realm! (doesn't mean he sits in it properly though, man definitely drapes himself over it like a lazy cat going down for a nap or however else queer people like me sit in chairs these days)
last minute edit: one last hc i’d like to touch on because i (no joke) had a dream about it when i went sleep last night after posting this: JESSAMY. how the fuck could i forget about Jessamy!! because i’m setting this before his capture he totally still has Jessamy as a loyal companion and raven, since Dream, per tradition, always has a raven at his side. since this post is of course centered on Dream, i won’t go into too much detail about her unless yall want me to tbh because i totally will if you want that content, but there are so many ways their dynamic could go, especially with him being more cruel as a nightmare. is she a punished human who was transformed and is actively working through her sentence in the Dreaming? was she ever human at all, or is she simply one of Dream’s creations? does she have a human form, and if so does Dream take her as his lover?? there are SO many thoughts running through my mind since i wish we got more time with her or at the very least some deeper context in the show itself, but ah well…
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if you made it to the end of this extremely long post, thank you thank you thank you!! this is actually the first bit of writing i've published to my blog in a while, and it's super appreciated when people read through all my crazy sandman ideas in their entirety lmao. i hope you liked my silly little hcs, and make sure to stay tuned for my sweet nightmares fic to come for more content like this!!
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weebsinstash · 10 months
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What if Miguel gives you a suit anyway even if you're not a spider person to protect you? 👀👀 one that moves when it senses danger so he's less worried about you when he's not there (but also with commands only he knows and really only he can disable? 👀👀👀). Reader can't take the suit off and realizes too late 👀👀👀👀 (I'm user filthdumpformeself btw)
Godddddddd it would open Reader up for some real manipulation and potential abuse. To be a NORMIE? At least some of these characters are scientists and inventors, but if you're just a powerless civilian, you'd be almost jumping at the opportunity to be something more, to mean something in this super-powered world you're in
I mentioned in another idea, 'what if Reader lost their home universe and they live where the Spider Society is' and you just 24/7 have to have a bracelet on or you'll glitch out and no on will know what will happen. Usually you'd return to your home universe, but since YOU don't have one, would you just POP! cease to exist? He never tells you, but the thought TERRIFIES Miguel, and once a week he's making sure to personally perform routine exams on your wristwatch to make sure it's functioning. So imagine if he eventually expanded on that. The suit would need some sort of source to project out of, so he combines it withe the bracelet. You still need to bathe after all!
As a person with a physical disability, I often think about and well, grieve over the abilities and physical fitness I'll never be able to have, and I think Reader in this scenario would have a similar experience. You're a normie surrounded by superheroes and genius scientists and they're all doing flips and hanging upside down and have zero fear of heights and natural invulnerability and EVERYTHING! You're in Spiderman Super Central and you're the only one who isnt allowed to be in the super special big boy club. It would make you so isolated and depressed, especially because like, Nueva York looks HUGE, so like there's definitely parts where all the normal people live, but Miguel insists you live in the Society to keep an eye on your bracelet (and also to keep you around)
This is where you're vulnerable to the manipulation and potentially having to do whatever he asks. You're DESPERATE for the freedom and fun and feeling of fulfillment only the suit can provide. It's a proverbial carrot he's dangling over your head. You want your powers back? Behave yourself. Do whatever he wants.
Just imagine it. You're high on the euphoria of getting to run around with other spiders and actually have some sort of purpose and, a new Spidey friend of yours is like "hey I got some goons in my home universe, what if you tagged along?" And suddenly Miguel is getting a little ping on his own bracelet "bracelet number 8364937 whatever tf just warped to coordinates XYZ" and he FLIPS OUT. They had you exposed to danger? They had you fighting?! And he storms all the way over there to see you're actually doing great and fighting fine, but so much of that is the suit, and you and him start an argument until he snaps. He didn't give you this suit to run around in suicide missions, and he scolds you not to do this again.
Snapcut to him finding out you did it again, and even confronting you WHILE another Spider is showing you the ropes and letting you train and fight (who will receive a severe punishment for it later). The two of you just start really arguing as you vent your feelings of uselessness and anger on him, maybe even saying something like "you can't just... try and CONTROL ME like this! You gave this to me, it should be mine to use!" And he just looks at you coldly. "You're right. I AM the one who gave it to you." And suddenly he's hitting a button and, you're still standing there in a suit strikingly visually similar to his own, but you can feel the exoskeleton kind of slack off your body, you feel heavier, and when you storm away from him angrily, you find out that your suit has had every function disabled. Every single one. No slinging webs, no defying gravity, no invulnerability, no super strength. Your Spider friends invite you for a swing around the city? You have to tearfully turn them down, and suddenly you're all isolated again. You're having to constantly turn down your friends and watch everyone have fun without you until you're going back to Miguel in tears, begging for his forgiveness, asking him what you can do for his forgiveness. PLEASE don't do this, with that suit you could help out around the Society and in other dimensions, or, you could at least just live a fun life in this place, and you're begging him with tears, PLEASE please please don't take away your new purpose
Not to mention you would have no idea but he can just constantly spy on you. He can find your location, he can listen in to your conversations and I imagine if you're all suited up, that he can potentially even control your movements. You mouth off and he just crosses his arms, "ok then. Power suit, activate protocol TO-1H" and suddenly your legs are marching you to your room and forcing you to give yourself a time out for an hour and he's monitoring you on a SpiPad while you cry by yourself and he can hear you whimpering all your private thoughts. "I just want to mean something... why is he doing this to me..."
An idea I had for the Spider Reader vs Evil OTHER Spider Reader which can also be applied here is, like, imagine you start clearly sinking into a depression during one of your "no spidey time" punishments and you're just feeling alone and sad as you eat in the food court with other Spiders and you're just looking down at the watch and suddenly you just say "do you think if I took this off I would die?"
The entire fucking cafeteria has their Spidey Sense go off and everyone looks at you. And you force a laugh, feeling super awkward as your face burns, and before you can laugh out "it was just a joke", something is casting a shadow over you, and you look up to see Miguel towering over you, one of the rare occasions he came out to socialize with other people. To try and eat with YOU. And he just heard you say THAT? THAT'S when he decides, you know what, I'm making this bracelet/suit unable to be taken off without special permissions 😤 no suicide or leaving allowed
But I imagine even if he doesn't want to see you taking risks and potentially getting hurt, he probably feels so warm and fuzzy and proud when he's teaching you new Spidey things and you pick up on then and do a good job and he praises you and you hit him with a big smile that makes his heart melt as he decides, ok, MAYBE he can let you play with your little suit, but only because it gives him more excuses to spend time with you ❤️
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nothums-from-tj · 2 months
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I rarely see anyone talk about the relationship between the rrb I hc cuz of how abusive HIM was brick and butch were always on gard and always made sure to do their best on any missions and that made HIM always send them on missions together with out boomer cuz he thought boomer was weak and he would always blame boomer for anything wrong that happened and cuz they all were scared of HIM brick and butch didn't dare say that it was there fault and just let boomer take the blame and be punished and soon they started to always blame boomer for anything so that HIM would leave them alone and it made them be more closer and distance themselves from boomer and by the time they all were able to get away from HIM and get their life together boomer no longer saw him and his brothers as a team brick and butch were always together and when they were with HIM saw each other as the only person they had and always closed off boomer not trusting him as they were scared he would tell him anything they do wrong so boomer was alone and until they were 12(I hc they got away from HIM when they were 12) this was how the boys acted both brick and butch have been trying to rebuild their relationship with boomer but the way boomer survived HIM was being quite and not talk if not talked to and to just act like he doesn't exist he was always alone and he never knew a time were he wasn't alone
I think I know who you are so I wanna tag you so you can get the notif however you seem to want to be private to the public so I’ll keep you anonymous <3
Personally I like to think the three have a better relationship with Him rather than Mojo, since even though the two only saw these kids as weapons, Mojo is more human than Him will ever be and has a bit of an avoidant attachment style. Upon realizing the Ruffs are their own people with goals and aspirations outside of destroying the world/PPG, he shuts down, and as he realizes that he really cares about them, he tries to convince himself not to and he’d yell at/try to convince them to be on the same page he is. The Ruffs, never actually getting to know Mojo on a deeper level for that reason, end up shutting him out too, and eventually they lose contact and never really search for that relationship as much as Mojo misses having their company, and doesn’t reach out either
When realizing these kids are, in fact, people, I’d like to think that’s when Him experiences empathy for the first time. He won’t like it and he’ll be passive aggressive, and he’ll still do what he can to support any hobbies and parts of their identity. The opposite can still be applied to either or:
Mojo could also have a switch flip in him and he’d just hug them tight and swear up and down that he loves them no matter what, and/or Him could react horribly with trying to literally brainwash/blackmail/possess them (what an episode that would’ve been) to force them to pull through with his own wishes
Have you ever seen the 2003 Teen Titans cartoon?? There’s a 2-part episode as season 2’s finale, Aftershock, and the way Slade handled things at the end. Holy shit. Anyway basically how I see Him being able to control the Ruffs in the most terrifying, most dystopian way possible (will always highly recommend Teen Titans btw it’s so good, also my very first introduction to online fandoms)
Anyway it always breaks my heart to think of them separating as they get older—I get it, I do, there are just so many ways their dynamics can go. This is definitely projection on my end with my own and my sister’s relationship, however we did have a similar one growing up from what you described the Ruffs: Brick is definitely a bit parentified, and I’d like to think that he truly loves both brothers even if he struggles to show it, though he doesn’t really know/realize it until he gets older—maybe 12-13, and he either gets a little softer with them, like his teasing becoming more affectionate, and/or spending time w them more and getting to know them a little more than he did way back when
As the trio starts losing their relationships with their dads, Brick becomes their confidante of sorts—they’re still brothers, it’s not like they tell each other everything, just enough to still keep tabs on each other (“hanging w BC later” “k” // “headed to work” “don’t kill anyone” “I’ll try” type of things) and he always tries to make sure his brothers know what’s going on w him so they can find him if they need anything (they never do, it never stops him anyway)
In the case they do separate, though, I like to think their gfs accidentally help mend the relationship: so the girls are a really tight-knit group right, they bicker often and still practically inseparable emotionally—so when Professor asks the girls to invite their partners to dinner on the same night so he can get to know everyone and give his seal of approval, and each bring home a different Ruff, an argument breaks out almost immediately between the three and the girls can’t help but feel they’ve made a mistake and really like Professor won’t approve of any of them after that. It gets worse before it gets better, and Professor steps in and immediately takes role of mediator as he has for his own children millions of times. Somehow he manages to get them to talk and secretly got some of the inside scoop from his kids from what they’ve said the Ruffs told them in private and they’re able to tolerate each other again after he steps in (he approved of them all, Boomer was approved of the fastest since he’s the best influence among the three of them—especially for Buttercup). Especially as they keep dating the Puffs they’re able to see each other in lights they never had before and it shows each other how much they changed and matured and things may never be the same as they were, and that doesn’t mean that they can’t start over
Also that last part of ur ask gives me SO MUCH POTENTIAL augh the trauma responses and flashbacks and things like that. So many angst prompts running through my head now I’ll have to jot it down and try to get a chance to write it in between chapters of my current WIP
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ladythornofrivia · 8 months
Text
my heavenly salvation
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Pair: Levi x Reader
Warnings: This series is going to be contain with fluff. Too much fluff. And smut. With mentions of self-harm, mentions of depression. Psychological abuse and bullying. Inspired by the Titanic movie.
A/N: Hi! I made a new chapter! Please enjoy! Let me know if you want to be tag!
(Please report if anyone decides to steal/plagiarize my work and notify me. Thank you.)
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(Btw, I’m putting a different music because I don’t want anyone feel tired of hearing the same music. Enjoy!)
Chapter III
Heart of Thunder and Sea
Previous Chapter | Next Chapter
The time during the confrontation with the Yeager brothers seemed endless. As they carried Zeke Yeager out, your stomach have ached by the time you escorted yourself at the giant lobby. And it wasn't the candy you ate. People kept giving glares and stares, especially a pack of young women--already married.
You didn't care about their stares or their ways of glaring at you in a thousand meanings. Staring was never a polite gesture, yet they still do it, anyway. People can be a menace to others by the means of making themselves superior.
Gulping, you sat at the nearby velvet seat, you examined the statue of a man killing the Titan by a spear at the top of Titan’s head.
You have seen Titans at close hand, as a bystander. Warriors…Titans…they act the same, but in different uniforms. You wonder what life is like without Titans—it’s hard to imagine for anyone. For centuries Titans had been born, as if they flow through everyone’s veins except Titans flowed through timeline.
As much as you’d like to believe that Titans are only a fever dream, and that your friends are fallen asleep, but it never was.
You wanted to know what’s like to be a Warrior.
Or an Eldian from Paradis.
You read an article or two regarding to Paradis, but as always, newspapers don’t align with reality. Marleyan and Eldian—both terrible people, two sides of the same coin. Maybe they’re terrible because they’ve been wronged each other, all thanks to the people in the past. King Fritz.
You never liked kings or royalty. All acted like Gods, but did terrible misdeeds behind their graced status. It irked you the most when most deaths were in vain while King Fritz passed away in his sleep. Needless to say, having a personal opinion in Marley will ultimately give you a final sentence.
However being a Marleyan or Eldian—both are cursed.
All you ever wanted in life wasn’t to be born as Marleyan or an Eldian. You wanted to be more than the name, you wanted to be free as your own self. Up until now, you’re still a beautiful bird in a golden and jeweled cage, anticipating the worst of those who consider you as a tool to unlock their personal needs.
“There you are, (y/n),” Gertrude said aloud, rushing over to your side, but you turned away from her without a word as if you don’t know her.
Out of nowhere, your wrist quickly snatched. You still didn’t look into Gertrude’s scolding eyes.
“You’re an embarrassment to us all. How could you leave your future husband in a poor state? You should’ve tended to his needs as a good wife, not a careless barbarian.”
Pulling your wrist, you looked at her strongly in the eye and said, “Then why don’t you tend to his needs? It seems like you wanted to be queen. Just say the word, and he’ll listen, since you complimented him so much.”
“You disrespectful little bitch,” Gertrude seethed. “I taught you better than this.”
“I’ll see you at dinner, mama,” you said, rushing off elsewhere. Escape from a boring rich life, that is.
~~~
At dinner, everyone in the first class ate their first meal in Goliath, filled with rare goods and ingredients to make the lavish dinner more lively. Everyone complimented their supper, which greatly pleased their injured king.
Zeke, on the other hand, played it off so well, that everyone still had their concerns on Zeke’s leg. Whoever struck Zeke must be punished, some said. But they’ll never know who’s responsible for Zeke’s misfortune.
You, on the other hand, still beautiful and trapped, unsure how to speak to people. Thankfully, people don’t pay attention to you. And that your blessings have been counted that no one could ever know your real thoughts.
Gertrude kept praising the Countess through and through. It irritated you so harshly that you wanted someone to suffocate you, but at the end of the day, you stared at the grandfather clock, watching it tick, counting down for elaborated dinner to be over.
~~~
As you returned back to your bedroom suite, your hands reached for the bed, your dress tightened your chest—no cold air resided in you. You reached for the lace, but each time you untie the knot at your back, it restrained more. Your back ache from arching, filling with sweat and anxiety. Your head was spinning, and your breathing haggard so hard your shouted for the servant.
No answer came.
“Prudence,” you said in panic. Each time you unlace and remove an accessory, you began to hate things. You hated heavy objects—heavy jewels, heavy room, heavy colors displayed before your eyes. Everything wasn’t enough for you.
“Prudence!” you cried. “Prudence, where are you?! Please help me! Help me, Prudence!”
Having enough, your hands threw the jewelry against the wall, your dress came off and you threw into the wall, as well, leaving you frustrated with loose periwinkle nightgown and a light reddish silk robe. Slamming your suite door, you realized that your life will be eternally identical.
“I hate jewels, I hate gowns. I hate parties and pleasantries from rich people. I hate permissions, I hate laws and kings and royals! No life is good when you’re not truly happy or free,” you said to yourself. “Or to be silently mocked when I…”
Your heart stopped. Your mind numbed.
Finally, you had enough.
~~~
Rushing into the deck can raise disruption and questionable looks from outsiders. By outsiders, the people from the first class. You wanted the Titans to return and crush these good pretenders. For once, you wanted to be feared as Eren Yeager. But no one believe that you’ll mount to anything critically harsh as Eren’s well-known reputation. While Eren’s role is mysteriously uprising, yours was completely stagnant and laughable. Stagnant because of rich life, laughable because of your father’s last act.
To be so hateful is easy, to be kind during hardest times is harder. No one believes you’ll mount to anything. Your life is still and painfully boring. You wanted more, but each time you wanted more, your rich life and reputation to uphold weighs you down harder. You tried to be kinder, but instead, the worst side of you prevail. You wanted to eliminate the worst side of you, but having no way out was way worse. You hoped for a better change for your gain of self-respect and dignity, but rich, pretentious people talk, otherwise.
Why can’t your life be simple? Having no rich or first class status means freedom at your own expense without anyone judging you. With their devilish eyes, what can you do? You didn’t commit a treason. You just wanted an air to breathe.
But as you run, the skies turned darker than other nights. Deep outlines of moonlight sky was no longer found. Thick clouds surrounding, and the sea’s air was profoundly bitter with salt and metal. Any air is better than inside the Goliath.
Your tears ran down without stopping. With your silk robe on, people from the first class gasped at your attire as if you’re naked. You weren’t. You’re still in your nightgown, your long hair tangled in a mess and your running became sloppier, and your vision fuzzier.
Reaching at the end of the ship, you wanted to jump off, but, it’s an easy way for an exit. So you managed to find an industrial rope and tied it to a noose on each end. Without anyone coming by, you placed one end on the metal stand, the other slipped onto your neck. As you stepped into and over the railing, you looked at the skies rather than below. In your heart you knew there’s nothing below other than black ocean.
Taking a big breath, your foot lifted off from the railing, and—
“I wouldn’t do that if I were you, miss,” a deep voice said.
Gasping, you turned and saw a man in a dark fedora hat and a dark coat with black Oxford shoes and grey trousers with a gold line of pocket watch chained from his pocket. From a few distance, he’s tall, but realistically, he’s an inch taller than your petite height. Despite all that, he ambled towards you in a careful gesture as if you’re an animal cornered at the edge, unknown and unsure of the other man’s perception.
“Don’t go near, dear sir,” you said in panic, hands shaking and clutching tight against the railing.
“Come off the railing,” he said, somewhat pleaded—though a bit firmly. “We can settle this, whatever your problem is, madam, we can discuss this.”
“Discuss? There’s nothing to be discussed. Nothing good will ever come to me.” Your hot tears streamed down, while the skies rumbled with groan. “I beg of you, don’t go near.”
His hand still outstretched. With a fedora hat, you couldn’t see his expression. “You would’ve been tangled.”
“I’d rather be tangled than to be strangled by the likes of those civilized people.”
The man said nothing. His hand wasn’t outstretched anymore. But still stayed by your side.
“I can’t go if you decide to stay on the railing.”
The sky rumbled again.
“Please go. I don’t want you to see this,” you wept.
He shook his head. “I’m afraid I can’t. We’re already here at this point.” Then he took off coat, but not his fedora hat.
“I’m sorry what are you doing?”
The man took off his pocket watch, then slowly walked towards you as he said, “Do you like black tea?”
You looked at him, flabbergasted. “Wait, what?”
“Where I come from, drinking black tea was the greatest thing I ever experienced. When I first drink tea, it was from an expensive floral cup. This floral cup is beautiful I decided to save up money to buy and to make my own serving. When I finally got the floral cup, I grabbed it by the handle, though it broke and slipped from my hands, and so I used the top part as the handle, instead,” he explained.
“How do you handle your tea cup,” you asked, shaking.
“I’ll show you,” he said, gesture his hand and formed a position to how he drink from his cup. “It’s strange, isn’t it?”
You shook your head. “No. Not at all. I find it fascinating!”
Underneath a dark fedora hat, he smirked.
“I like eating scones that comes with it,” you said.
“What goes along with black tea?”
“Anything, really. Though I wouldn’t suggest anything too sweet, it gives a bad reputation to the stomach.”
He chuckled. “What do you suggest then?”
“Scones, it has be blueberry or raspberry or strawberry. With my tea, I like to add with lemon and a little honey. But sometimes I like to drink tea in a plain fashion.”
He nodded. “That seems reasonable.”
“Sometimes I drink tea whenever there’s a cold weather coming by.”
“Perhaps you can show me,” he said.
“Show me,” you repeated, puzzled.
“Show me how you handle your tea and scones.”
“Maybe…Maybe I can show you more,” you offered.
By then, his hand reached towards you, ever so gently as a gentle fire has touched your numbed heart.
“Then come with me, show me your ways, and I’ll show mine,” he offered in return.
With a last tear slid down, your heart stopped aching. But the rumbled sky grew louder.
“Pace yourself,” he said, almost sounding like a purr, his hands occupying you.
As your turned, realizing the noose around your neck has been discarded. Your eyes met his. Those blue and steel colored eyes glistened like rain droplet shining.
Any Marleyan would take pride on being handsome, when the man in front of you obtained the handsomest face you’ve ever seen, like a moving painting, glowing like halo.
His hands were still in yours.
For a moment, the time stops. At a simple gesture, your hands gripped tightly to his.
His face leaned in, nearly an inch apart.
“You’re beautiful,” he said. “Your tears are still there, but I feel as though your sadness stopped.”
“That’s because you’re the flaming soul,” you said.
He chuckled. “Your ways of describing me is amusing.”
“You don’t like it?”
He chuckled again. “Never give into your despair. You’re so much more than a girl on the edge. Levi Ackerman,” he said, still holding your hands.
“(y/n) O’Connell,” you said, flashing him a wide, sincere smile.
“Beautiful,” he whispered.
Though you giggled at his words, you foot stepped at the railing, and slipped.
At the raging thunder comes, the skies shot with a loud bang—lightning strikes flashed and rainfall flow harder, making for you and Levi having a difficult time.
“Don’t let go,” Levi instructed.
With quick thinking, the noose on his other hand. “Quick—give me your other hand—hold onto the noose!”
With bravery, you did as he said. You grabbed onto the noose, and Levi yanked you up, though it wasn’t easy. The heavy rainfall made you and Levi’s eyesight twice as complicated.
“I’ll pull you up!” With a huge huff, grunting, Levi tugged you up with success. You stick the landing—on top of him.
His fedora hat loosened, a shade of black hair adorned his youth countenance. His rock solid body underneath you filled you with warmth. You’re a moth to his flame. But you weren’t a terrible insect. This is what all you wanted. Warmth.
Despite the warmth, his eyes never leave yours. Your body grew with heat. Flustered, you tried to get up, but his hand instinctively gripped to your backside. In the heart of thunder and sea, his heart was the loudest. Your heart was thumping, pacing.
You blinked, your throat went dry.
Levi cleared his throat. “Forgive me,” he uttered.
You got up with him, and snickered. “That was fun.”
“Believe me, (y/n),” he began. “What we could’ve almost have underneath this insufferable ship is more than the fall.”
“You saved me,” you said, then your arms tackling him for a solemn of embrace as a full, life-longing gratitude. Your chest tightened with restraint sorrow.
Levi, on the other hand, is too stunned to utter a form of coherent sentence.
Tucking a hair strand behind your ear, you said, “I always wanted to be a mermaid.”
His eyebrow quirked. “You don’t say?”
You pulled back quickly as an apology. Reaching for his hand, you hoisted him up. You watched him grabbed his fedora hat, then his coat, and as he grabbed his coat, he gave you a piece of lavender handkerchief. “Keep this. If you ever need comfort, use this. Consider this as a token from me.”
Hesitantly, you kept the handkerchief as much as you want to keep the token. Keep the token feels right, yet wrong in a simultaneous way. “I want to see you,” you said.
Levi smirked once more underneath his fedora hat. “Don’t worry. You will.” Then walked off with his polished cane.
“Allow me to return the favor,” you shouted over the heavy rain. But in the heart of thunder and sea, you couldn’t see him anymore.
A pause hung in the air for a moment. Only the rain and the rumbling thunder and lighting strikes prevail your most provoked thoughts of the night. And it will soon come for tomorrow and the very next. “Levi,” you utter, a smoke past from your mouth, faintly speaking as you talk in secret with bitter sullen air and water.
Levi. Levi Ackerman.
Levi Ackerman.
The sound of unearthly heaven and stars slipped past from your lips.
Taglist: @colored-tr-panels @galactict3a @slay0368 @f1yh1gh
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hadeantaiga · 8 months
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I have a little evil idea and I'd appreciate your opinion and -if possible- moral thumbs up: Should I start posting Fluffy Pony Abuse art and comics (specially the ones that are mostly about mares and motherhood and sex graphic) on radblr tags to troll them as far as I can? This is 100% a legitimate ask btw
No.
It is straight up unethical to expose people to that sort of material if they do not consent to seeing it.
Personally, I think it's uncool to use someone's kink as a weapon to harm someone else.
That content is not allowed on Tumblr so that is a very quick way to get yourself banned.
There is already a troll in the radfem tag and they're doing it way better than you because they just post big buff hairy men with motivational phrases.
Any stupid 4chan incel can post harmful graphic depictions of violence. If you can't think of anything better than that, you don't deserve to troll anyone.
You and the Anon who was running harassment campaigns (and maybe you are the same person) really REALLY need to like... Grow up. Hang out with different people. Learn different forms of internet culture. Stop thinking being edgy is the only way to exist.
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ladyluscinia · 2 years
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Who are all of these people who are drowning in pro-Izzy content to the exclusion of all other characters and have they been in a fandom that actually has a ridiculous overrepresentation of some shitty guy? I see posts like this:
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And the problem sounds a lot more like they are objecting to any Izzy content. Because I certainly can't find this overwhelming dominance. So fine. Let's see how popular Izzy is...
There are 12072 OFMD works on AO3 as I type this.
"Israel Hands" is character tagged in 5393 of them. That's 44.7%. Lower than I would expect, seeing as that includes every fic where he's the choice of villain as well as simply present or a focus. 122 of those are tagged "Major Character Death" (out of 225 in the whole fandom), and I suspect that's undertagged by people who don't think Izzy's fate is that important.
Comparably we have Lucius at 3560 (29.5%), Jim at 2226 (18.4%), and Oluwande at 1935 (16%). Lower than Izzy, yeah, but how many of those Lucius fics have him tagged just to get violently killed off or verbally wrecked and sent away for everyone else's happy ending? How many times does the crew show up untagged individually? I'm guessing the numbers of positive fics are probably a lot more equal... But let's see if we can look at this another way.
How about ships?
Izzy's ship fics are probably more likely to be pro-Izzy / significant content, yeah? So I'll break those down.
The most popular ship in the "Israel Hands" character tag is - to no one's surprise - BlackBonnet at 3183 (so 59% of "Israel Hands" character tagged fics, and 26.4% of all OFMD fics are tagged BlackBonnet + "Israel Hands"). I'd guess that number includes a lot of the "villain Izzy getting defeated" stories. Ships that actually have Izzy in them go:
Edward/Izzy at 1287 under "Israel Hands", 1374 (11.4%) total
Stede/Edward/Izzy at 762 under "Israel Hands", 812 (6.7%, probably with a good amount of BlackHands overlap) total
Stede/Izzy at 482 under "Israel Hands", 509 (4.2%, with overlap again) total
Izzy/Lucius at 477 under "Israel Hands", 514 (4.3%) total.
Lucius/Pete btw? 746 under "Israel Hands", 1188 (9.8%) total. Oluwande/Jim has 579 under "Israel Hands" and 1023 (8.5%) total. They both outrank every non-Edward/Izzy ship inside Izzy's tag, and are not far behind Edward/Izzy in total.
Another consideration I can attest to as a BlackHands reader... a lot of those Edward/Izzy fics are labeled "one sided" in various ways (which gets tag wrangled as the ship). 107 are just plain tagged "Unrequited Love". 94 have "One-Sided Blackbeard | Edward Teach/Israel Hands". Or they are toxic / abusive with a different ship endgame - BlackBonnet (tagged on 656 of them, with 389 as SteddyHands) or Izzy/Lucius (tagged on 70) or a negligible ship like Izzy/Frenchie or Izzy/Sam Bellamy.
These numbers are just NOT an overwhelming surge of fan attention. Izzy is not a third protagonist, no, but he's the most developed antagonist with easily 3rd or 4th most screentime / characterization. Having maybe 1/5 or less of the fandom content that you could call "focused" on him is not much or unusual or proof of bias 🙄 (the tag "Israel Hands-centric" is on 341 fics, or 2.8% of OFMD fics, "POV Israel Hands" on 176 so 1.5%, "Soft Israel Hands" on 107 or 0.9%... These are not big numbers).
Do people want to know where all that attention they think is owed to Jim or Lucius or Frenchie or Ivan and Fang is going?
8705 works tagged as BlackBonnet. That's 72.1% of all OFMD fics. Running the "otp: true" search for BlackBonnet ONLY fics pulls up 5764 results, so still 47.7%! Almost half of this fandom's content is ship fic that only covers the OTP without even tagged background ships.
"Blackbeard | Edward Teach" is character tagged in 9698 OFMD fics at 80.3% and "Stede Bonnet" is next in 8889 at 73.6%.
In the 1188 Lucius/Pete fics, BlackBonnet is tagged in 936 of them. That's 78.8% of all Lucius/Pete.
In the 1023 Oluwande/Jim fics, BlackBonnet is tagged in 788 of them. That's 77% of all Oluwande/Jim.
Those BlackBonnet numbers are insane. Fucking Destiel - the biggest ship on AO3, in a show insanely hostile to side characters - is tagged in 107526 fics of 268568 in the Supernatural fandom. That's 40%. You read that right. Less than half. Maybe some more recent tumblr darlings?
Catra / Adora from She-Ra hit 10248 out of 16141, so 63.5%. And they are canon.
Newer, but I've seen Dream / Hob Gadling surging and it's at roughly 500 (the tags need wrangling) out of 1743 in the Sandman (TV 2022), hitting 28.7%
Never watched The Owl House, but Amity Blight / Luz Noceda is the top ship at 7650 of 16277, so 47%. Pretty sure that one is canon too.
Stranger Things has 51424 works, with top ships Steve/Eddie at 10266 (20%) and Billy/Steve at 9046 (17.6%). Again, I don't watch, but I'm pretty sure these are a lot more accurate examples of minor character takeover ships, and Billy especially is the shitty white guy breakout with barely any screentime. Who has been dead for multiple seasons. And it's still beating Edward/Izzy's percentage significantly.
I'm sorry that your fave isn't getting the content you want. It sucks. But this supposed unfair focus on Izzy just does not exist at any level that would actually be impacting other character content.
Anyone complaining about it is not making a complaint about fandom bias grounded in reality.
And anyone who is proposing "solutions" for this lack of content (a questionable proposition already) better have the bulk of their list as "More BlackBonnet writers need to try branching out" or they are just making up reasons to complain about minor content focused on a character or ship they don't like.
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BABY WAIT-
Ok so I was saw this while scrolling the Harry Potter tag😭 I’m wheezing rn
Can I unpack this?
A few harmless spells
They used illegal spells.
Illegal. Spells.
See the chapter where Snape gave detention to Harry after the Sectumsempra incident.
Now maybe there are illegal spells which aren’t dark but seeing how they became illegal Animagi, I won’t put it past them.
And I wouldn’t call choking someone with soap (which could kill someone…common sense not so common) a “harmless” spell. And just because Severus invented levicorpus didn’t give Pothead the green light to use it to expose Snape to a crowd of people.
Came out of the womb with a dark mark
Babe what!? Yes because being abused and neglected at home and then being relentlessly bullied at a school you thought would be a safe haven DEFINITELY wouldn’t push someone to make bad decisions!
He totally was always a blood supremacist and joined Voldemort because he 100% believed in his ideals, and totally not because he wanted a chance at a better life (which was promised to people who joined btw)… but moving on
Salivating
And do…what about it?
(And not all of us salivate over him, you see what you wanna see)
Partially responsible for the deaths of witches and wizards all over the UK
😀…according to my calculations (correct me if I’m wrong pls), Snape officially joined the ranks of Voldemort from 1978-1981 which means he was only on the dark side for 3 years…chill 💀
Going back to the “came out mom with a dark mark” crap…he didn’t join until after he graduated…so the “they bullied him because he was a DE” argument just flew out the window birdy style 🕊
Serial killer
This was the funniest one tbh! Congratulations for making a joke…but uuumm a serial killer by definition is A person who commits a SERIES of murders, often with no apparent motive and typically following a characteristic, predictable behavior pattern.
Serial killers have typically murdered THREE OR MORE people…
The only person he out right murdered was Dumbledore…he watched Charity Burbage die and couldn’t do anything about it, and he unknowingly aided the deaths of the Potters but actually tried to stop it from happening (he would have gotten away with it if it weren’t for that meddling Pettigrew 🐀)
He’s saved more lives than he took…but who’s counting, right!?
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invinciblerodent · 3 months
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tbh, it never ceases to astound me that there are actual people who are fans, legitimate fans, of Ascended Astarion.
like i'm not even saying this as a funny thing, i'm not even gonna put it any tags or whatever, and it's not like i want to make fun of someone for a preference in a fictional character, that's not what this is about, it's just that.... posts here, and the comment sections on videos of his voicelines, always have at least one person trying to justify his behavior as actually good, or talking about how hot some line or another is, and how much they like this outcome (not because it's fucked up but because it's "passionate" or "sexy" or whatever- this btw is much more prevalent on youtube), and I just... can't grasp how that's a possible thing for people to think unironically. how someone can play through 100+ hours of game, interact with Astarion multiple times, take him through his whole damn personal journey, and still not feel like post-ascension he's just a... a horrible stranger wearing a friend's face.
If you see the fucked up part and go "yeah i'm into that because it's fucked up"? I'm fully in support of you. Absolutely 100% in your corner. Write/imagine/fantasize about nasty fucked up manipulation and shit all you want; I've been known to indulge in worst case scenarios myself. Engaging with unhealthy dynamics with the knowledge that it's unhealthy and exploring that can be good for the soul. But way too many seem to be arguing that "he still loves (the PC)", and that it's possible for that guy and the PC to have a decent, loving relationship on equal footing, while they need to actively dodge all the options even in-game that exist to call him out for being a piece of shit.
because he's. god, ascended he's such a creep. he sets off all the alarm bells in my head, worse than any guy I've ever decided not to let buy me a drink. an obvious manipulator, nakedly abusive, dismissive, clearly a megalomaniac that's going as far as saying the quiet part out loud in the multiple times he can say that he wants to turn the PC into a spawn so they can't leave or defy him, and it's right there on the surface in every single interaction that being with him is not a good idea. The other companions fucking hate his guts and feel sorry for the PC, and even a PC that's head over heels, fully on board with all the bullshit, and is into the whole "gilded cage enslavement" aspect, can complain (and it's implied that they have complained, multiple times) in the epilogue about not having their freedom.
Six months after becoming his spawn, they're still not a full vampire, and we know from that conversation with Aurelia and Leon that one of Cazador's little tactics had been promising his spawn freedom he never intended to give, in order to keep them obedient.
sure, he has some lines that, in a vacuum, are hot. but I'm pretty sure that's all simply Neil Newbon (despite being a very skilled actor who's fully deserving of all the acclaim he's been receiving), being physically unable to inject enough gross sewer-slime into his voice, and not any merit to this weird creep of a character.
this whole thing, I'm gonna be honest, is just... so fucking worrying to me. it like actually worries me how many people can't see something written with the explicit intent to be unsettling, and a guy written openly to be awful and shitty and gross, as such. And it's not like we can fully chalk it up to how emotion in the moment can cloud your judgement, or how manipulators can and do adjust their personalities in accordance to how best to make you stay, he's literally ones and zeroes, and a limited number of lines you can listen to over and over again and dissect if you want.
I'm not even remotely joking, is this how people end up in relationships with genuinely awful people????? because god, it sounds so terrifying that there are actual people who can look at a fictional guy draped in a red flag the size of a tectonic plate, and still only notice that the color brings out his eyes.
(and to reiterate, if the awful is the selling point, I'm fully in support of that. but god, the "I can fix him"/"I know he still loves me" sentiment is just... it makes the back of my neck itch.)
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