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belphegorbillickin · 3 years ago

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Vampire (GN!)MC (+ Side Characters)

(TW!): Belphegor's and Simeon's section could potentially contain some triggering material regarding lack of agency and drugging.

(TW!): Leviathan's section as well as the two above are also pretty yandere-esque with all the TWs that comes with. Diavolo's second section could be seen that way as well.

(CW!): Some of the sections get more than a little suggestive, but nothing explicit.

General Headcannons:

Demon blood is pitch black, thick, and has a tendency to bubble in daylight. As unappealing as it is you start to feel a strange longing for it.

Angelic blood is a lot more similar to human blood, they are both god's creatures after all.

Demon blood is much less effective than human blood as your body has to fight some of the toxins and convert some nutrients to a more useable state.

Luckily for them they can afford to lose a lot more blood and replace it much faster as well.

Blood from humans and lesser demons isn't any more addicting than typical food, but the effects of corrupted angelic blood aren't well documented.

The ability to take other's blood for themselves so effortlessly also makes them immune to all diseases spread through the bloodstream. It's unknown what happens to those already suffering.

Vampire fangs come with a venom that numb the affected area and thin the victim's blood.

Vampires used to try to flock to Devildom to take advantage of it's eternal darkness, but now that the human blood trade is illegal a significant amount of them have gone back to the human realm.

Lucifer:

He finds it kind of humiliating for a second. Allowing a lowly human to feast on him like he's the prey and you're the predator? Unthinkable.

But then someone else offers and he's offended for you. Did they really think something like that would satisfy you?

You deserve only the best, who else could that be but him? His brothers? Don't make him laugh.

Lucifer claims he's only letting you feed on him until you're cured, but it's purely to save face.

It's hard not to feel the intense, heated glare as he watches you begin to bite down.

He'll help you secure the cure if you'd prefer to be fully human again of course, but he's certainly not going to push it beyond his initial disclaimer.

His blood is smoky with a strong bitter undertone. You can feel the magic running through it and entering your body, strutting about like it owns the place.

It doesn't fade away quickly either. You can always feel it running through your veins if you're drinking enough.

It makes you feel powerful, but if you try to resume your magical training it actually fights your body's own power, wanting to be the one casting the spell.

It's possible to use it to enhance your own, but it'll take some effort before you can even get back to normal levels, much less use his. Once you finally manage it you almost double in power and stamina.

Lucifer is a very busy demon, but he'll never forget a single feeding session. He may be rather harsh with his brothers, but he finds it hard to send you to bed without dinner. Do expect at least some teasing however.

(Unless something major happened like you trying to drink from someone else or you trying to force it out of him after said punishment, but why would you do that when you have him?)

His favorite position involves him holding out his wrist while you sit on the floor in front of his chair, looking up at him with defiant or needy eyes.

He's not averse to making you beg for it, but that tends to lead to more than just feeding...

If you need a softer touch however, he loves you sitting his lap and wrapping your arms around him while drinking from his neck just as much.

He unbuttoned his collar and undid his tie just for you, but do be sure to lick up any stray blood that might stain it. He doesn't mind if you stay there after you've finished either.

Lucifer likes it maybe a little too much... Lucifer's already a decent competitor for Asmo's title, but all of those little love bites you keep giving him makes him want to sink his teeth into you even more.

He's never been so easy to tear away from his work.

And the thought of his blood (literally) running through your veins? It's really bringing out his possessive side knowing everyone can sense his magic inside of you.*

Don't bother getting your own possessive side out though.

Lucifer absolutely refuses to let anyone see the bitemarks you leave and if someone does see by accident he'll mindwipe them with zero hesitation.

Mammon:

It's not like he wants you to be regularly taking bites out of him (he totally does), but as your designated protector it's only right that he's the one making sure you're healthy.

You should have your first sip from your first demon after all. (He says as he's practically elbowing his brothers out of the way, even the "uninterested" ones just in case.)

His blood tastes and feels like a slightly spicy energy drink, almost like licking a battery.

The second you drink it you feel ready to take on anything. You're so full of energy it's a bit harder to focus.

Your constant foot tapping is sure to get you murdered by Satan if you don't tire yourself out soon.

Are you just imagining it or are you a lot faster than usual?

He loves getting bitten in general, even before your transformation, but he especially loves it when you wrap all your limbs around him or pin him down when you're feeling almost feral with hunger.

Mammon might ask to give you a few matching bitemarks in return. He can tone it down to just hickies if you want.

C'mon MC, don't make him beg. So what if they see it? Everyone should already know that you're his and he's yours! What do you think this is, the uptight Celestial Realm?

Despite all his half-hearted complaints he's very eager to show off his own bitemarks, making sure they're never covered regardless of who complains.

If anything he just makes it more obvious. He'll "subtly" crane his neck to show everyone who you chose to drink from, no, depend on.

"Hey Belphie, pass me the remote won't ya?" Cue several obnoxious head movements, a broken remote, and an incredibly smug Mammon. (Until Lucifer finds out he has to replace the remote again.)

He'll begrudgingly let the Majolish stylists cover it up temporarily, but he'll ignore Lucifer's lectures about how "Incredibly unbecoming it is for a demon lord such as yourself to walk around like a human teenager after his first lay."

Human bloodwine is pretty hard to find nowadays without paying a fortune, but he's happy to spoil you if he does come across some.

It's pretty unlikely he'll actually be paying for it anyway.

And if he has to, what's a little more debt for his favorite human when he already owes several trillion grimm?

Leviathan:

"WOOOAAAAHHHH!!! This is just like "My cute little kouhai that hates me for being a filthy otaku suddenly came to my door on their knees begging for my blood!"

He gets embarrassed and a little self-depreciating thinking about it, but quickly demands that you choose him if someone else offers.

There's no way the Lord of Shadows would ever let Henry go hungry after all!

And there's also no way Henry would ever choose someone else for such an intimate task, right? Right?

His salty blood makes your lips go numb and feels like it's trying to commit every little part of your insides to memory. It's a bit more blue than the others as well.

For a second you wondered if Leviathan got confused and was actually poisonous instead of venomous, but luckily for you it's not any more dangerous than the others.

The weird feeling doesn't affect your concentration either. You find yourself finishing your coursework faster than ever, eager to dig into that new game Levi bought for you.

You even got a perfect score on both somehow. It feels like the teachers have been going easier on everyone lately.

You expected him to be a blushing, squirming mess, but unless you go out of your way to seduce him he's strangely calm. **

He just stares intensely at you the entire time, barely blinking and breathing heavily with a serious look on his face. (So this is how those poor idols feel.)

You might want to ask for his neck just so he can't look at you, but then he'll be breathing heavily in your ear unless you do it from behind.

He just wants to commit this to his memory, he likes having you depend on him like this.

Levi fantasizes hard about getting you addicted to him and tries to speed the process up.

He only rewatched the entire TSL series twice this week so he could research what vampires find irresistible, TWICE MC! That's how much he loves you!

If you see him suddenly eating things he claimed to hate and putting more effort into eating better, that's why. He can't sustain you off of energy drinks and character themed snacks after all.

Levi's another one that secretly likes getting bitten regardless, but thinking about how everyone can smell him inside you, knowing you depend on him, really brings out his more confident and possessive side.

He initially prefers positions with less physical contact (he'd rather not let you know how much he enjoys it), but soon enough he'd like to wrap his tail around you while you feed.

You know, there was this one particular pose he always thought was really lewd if you wanted to try it, and if you loved him enough to wear the matching outfit...

He gets really worked up if you teasingly complain about having to drink from a "disgusting pervert" while sitting in his lap.

Please don't do that unless you intend to finish what you started or he'll be humiliated in the unsexy way and hide from you until you threaten to drink from someone else.

He thinks your fangs are really cute. Besides the moe factor now you two kind of match! He even has venom too!

Although his is incredibly painful and turns your insides into mush within minutes, but whatever. Even your weaker venom is cute!

It basically means you're soul mates now! Don't argue with him MC, he won't listen.

Seeing you accidentally bite your own tongue makes him laugh and think of his first days in Devildom. They're not happy memories, but these are and they're slowly overwriting them.

At least your venom numbs your pain instead of making it worse. Which is so not fair!

Levi thinks it's even more unfair that you can sink your fangs into him but not the reverse, especially since he won't even be taking any blood.

You'll let him do it, won't you MC? He bets you'd do it if Mammon or Lucifer asked you...

He won't use his venom, he swears on his limited edition, only fifteen made, Ruri-chan figure from 1999!

He says it's just to get even, but he'll be really upset if you try to cover it up.

Who cares if those normies think it's tacky MC? (Ignore the fact that he always got insanely bitter when he saw normies with hickies.)

What, do you care about them more than him? Because if you really loved him you'd ignore them and do what makes him happy. Don't you want him to be confident? You're wrecking his self-esteem MC.

(Watch out Belphie, Levi's reigning champ of guilt trips and he's coming for your crown.)

It wouldn't be a problem if you'd just do online coursework with him anyway... Wouldn't it be safer to always have his blood on hand too?

You could move in with him. It'll be even better now that you don't have leave his room to eat.

What do you mean you still want to see his brothers? So he isn't enough for you now?

Really, after he reduced his TSL marathons for you? After he choked down those disgusting vegetables day and night just for you?

After he was gracious enough to sneak some of his blood into- ...whatever.

Fine, you'll see just how much you "need" them and not him when you're scratching and begging at his door for the only blood that can sate your hunger.

He'll let you back in. He'll even be generous enough to give you some after a few hours of being held almost painfully tight in his tail, just inches from his bleeding neck while he makes demands.

Just don't expect to control the feeding schedule anymore. It's his blood after all, why should he have to give it to someone so ungrateful?

Stay with him, and only him, uninterrupted for at least six hours and he'll be more than happy to share some of his blood with you.

Look, he'll even let you watch your favorite animes when you're especially hungry to distract you. He's practically the angel of kindness again.

Satan:

He looks unusually angry when his brothers begin arguing over who you're to drink from.

As in, not even Lucifer has managed to have him transform in front of you with blood seeping from his clenched palms and bitten lips.

You weren't even sure it was blood at first considering it was a glowing, bubbling neon green. For a second you thought maybe he ate one of Levi's glow sticks like Beel did once.

You find out why soon after he calms himself down. His blood is just as acidic as his personality. But seriously, it'll eat through even demons with protective exoskeletons like Beel.

It's top-tier self defense, but as it is now it just leaves him outraged that once again he's the only brother too demonic to get close to you.

He brings you human blood instead (and tries to console himself by saying it absorbs better anyway), but it may or not be from humans he's torn apart in rage after learning Lucifer insisted on feeding you his blood.

He promises most of them deserved it anyway.

He’s very knowledgeable, but as both demons and angels are unable contract vampirism he never got around to actually learning how to safely cure it.

Knowledge like this doesn't come free either, those who know how would ask for more than just knowledge in return themselves.

He'll stop at nothing to cure you and get you away from Lucifer, not even potentially entering a pact with Solomon or owing a favor to Barbatos.

Although he will try his best to outsmart them of course. They may be cunning but he's no slouch either.

He doesn't come out of his room at all unless it's necessary for his research. He'll be very grateful if you bring him some tea and lunch.

As frustrated as he is he's still happy to see you, though you'll have to be quiet in order to not distract him.

Asmo:

What's this? You want to put your lips and tongue all over him? Well of course you do, and of course he'd indulge himself you too!

His blood is addicting, literally. It's a side effect of his charm. It tastes sweet and almost feels like it's caressing you as it warms you up in more ways than one.

It's odd, but you've been extraordinarily lucky lately. Everyone seems to want to help you at just the right time.

They don't even ask for anything in return, it’s almost like they’re trying to get on your good side or something.

He's no stranger to bite marks, but they really limit his outfit choices don't they?

Luckily for you there's a particularly juicy vein just above the knee. Go on dear, don't be shy...

He's the most likely to try to turn every feeding session into something more, but he'll back off if you really want him to.

The thigh suggestion was genuine, he doesn't really want constant marks, but he'll allow you to drink from his wrist and occasionally his neck as well.

He's more than happy to help guide you through other activities with your new fangs, you're not the first partner to have them by far.

He has plenty of vampire "friends" you can talk to if that'd make you feel less lonely.

Watch your back though, not everyone is going to be eager to just let you keep Asmo to yourself.

He'll put an immediate stop to it if you tell him however.

Killing even elder vampires is rather effortless for the fifth strongest demon lord, he didn't even have to change out of his stilettos.

Beelzebub:

"I'm the biggest. The others don't eat enough to lose that much blood and stay healthy."

(They're more than fine regardless of how much you drink, but Beelzebub has always been self-sacrificing. Besides, despite not being the jealous kind he feels oddly intent on making sure he's the one to do this.)

He lifts you up easily, unsurprisingly considering what you've seen him do, encouraging you to wrap your legs around him before baring his neck. He doesn't even twitch when sink your fangs into him.

Whether it's because his skin is unusually hard and thick even for a demon or if it's just because it's not painful to him is unknown. It's still a little weird to get no reaction however.

His blood is tasty and rather filling, being even thicker than demon blood usually is, but something about it makes it so hard to stop.

Try not to take advantage of him too much, because he's much too sympathetic and self-sacrificing to stop you.

If you're not careful you'll find it hard to think about anything besides getting another sip.

If you're desperate enough you might not be able to stop yourself in time when drinking from someone else.

It's never been so easy to catch up to someone or pin them down either, which doesn't bode well for them.

You could drain a dozen people to death and still not feel satisfied, it seems that becoming addicted to him is even worse than it would normally be.

Belphie is the only real substitute, but he always seems to want something in return even if it's just a nap together.

True to his word he makes sure you're fed all the time as best as he can. He knows how horrible it is to go hungry and Lucifer is letting him eat even more to make up for it.

You two still eat together however, he'd hate to give that up. Beel lets you drink from his wrist while he chows down with his other hand.

Sure he misses being able to shove two handfuls worth of food at a time, but he misses not being able to eat with you more.

Besides this feels weirdly intimate, knowing that you're getting all of your nutrients directly off of him. Not to sound like Belphie, but he likes the idea of you depending on him that much.

Speaking of intimate, he's happy with most positions, but you might want to sink your teeth into his thick thighs even more than might have before.

He'll let you do it in private, (although unfortunately for you he still considers Belphie to be “private,” sleeping or not) but but he's never thought how it felt to have your mouth on him until now.

He was always too focused on thinking about how to regain those calories or worrying about you before. But now? He can't seem to think of anything else.

It feels kind of weird being the one to get nibbled on for once, but he doesn't mind it. In fact the longer it goes on the more he seems to enjoy it.

Your tiny little fangs are adorable compared to his giant set of shark-like teeth. Did he mention he can unhinge his jaw like a snake?

He feels kind of bad for you knowing you can't do that, but he guesses it doesn't matter for blood.

You might not want to tell him it's alright to even the score. Sometimes it's best not to test fate or you'll end up with a very guilty Beelzebub and a chunk of your shoulder missing.

At least even fledgeling vampires aren't as likely to die from getting a chunk taken out of them as pure humans.

Belphegor:

This little creep is practically buzzing with excitement. Well, in comparison to his usual attitude.

You may think he's uninterested when he whips his phone out, but he's already searching for what foods make you the tastiest to a vampire.

The thought of only being able to be sustained by your lover is really romantic don't you think MC?

The idea of you starving if you tried to run away...

Go on, bite him as much as you want. But only him, unless you really need a bite out of Beel too. His blood is similar enough to not affect anything.

His blood is delicious and calming in a way that makes you want to keep suckling until he's completely drained. It tastes somewhat similar to Beel's despite the floral undertone.

Said floral undertone makes it a lot easier for him to disguise it in the chamomile tea he always bribes you for cuddles with. It's been a lot harder to relax after being infected.

It tastes and looks a little different than you remember, but why sweat the small stuff?

It almost seems like your lackadaisical attitude is contagious. It's never been easier to get your way.

Everyone around you seems uninterested in pushing too hard against what you want even if it goes against their best interests.***

Belphie tries his hardest to get you addicted in order to purposely withhold it until you give him what he wants, which is usually your time.

This sadistic asshole will even pin you down with his tail and cut himself above you, letting it drop just out of your tongue's reach until you beg him for it.

Sure you're a vampire and he's deceptively thin, but you're just a fledgeling and he's a several thousand year old demon lord.

Using your pact to stop him would be the smart thing to do, but starving vampires tend to be a little distracted by the smell of blood even when they aren't addicted.

He doesn't hesitate to use this to his advantage even at the beginning however.

He claims you've taken so much out of him that he can't even feed himself, you'll have to do it for him unless you want him to wither away.

MC, he's so drained he can't reach the remote right next to him. MC his neck hurts, kiss it better? MC, lay with him until he stops feeling so dizzy? MC...

He loves it when you lay down with him, drinking lazily so that the two of you are attached for hours.

He's practically guaranteed to get a little handsy if you do it while laying directly on top of him or vice versa and keep running your tongue over the bite marks.

You'll let him bite you too won't you? He promises to be gentle, unlike his twin.

(His promises don't actually mean much when it comes to things like this. But, if you really hate it he'll only leave lasting marks if he's feeling especially jealous.)

Belphie will gladly skip a few meals in order to keep you to himself. He can always have Beel bring him some or snack later.

He gets really annoyed if you still try to sit at the table to watch everyone else eat. Are you that desperate to talk to his disgusting brothers?

He can call Beel in if you really need more company. That's enough right? Why wouldn't it be? It's all he needs so it's all you need too.

Luckily for you Beel's blood acts as more than a decent substitute when Belphie's too mad at you to feed you.

He'll often take pity on you if come to him complaining about being hungry so it's not as effective as when Lucifer and Leviathan deprive you.

Diavolo:

He's probably the one that caused this whole mess. He'd like to make it right by donating some blood, but...

The royal bloodline is a little too... "warm" for humans, even vampiric ones, so don't be expecting any contributions from him as sad as he is.

(It'll burn you from the inside out, literally. It's basically lava in blood form. Even getting too close to a significant amount of his blood is dangerous. Mid-tier demons aren't safe and even powerful demons like the brothers will suffer from some "minor" burns.)

Rest assured he's pouting jealously the whole time. Barbatos and Lucifer are relieved the future king won't be roaming around with bitemarks however, from a human no less. What would the people say?

He'll gladly go up to the human realm and pay for as much human blood as you need.

Legal? Of course it is! Well, maybe not but they're all from volunteers he assures you.

Really, all he has to do is ask politely and they jump to cut themselves for him. Why are you giving him that look?

You might have to explain that the Devil himself bursting into your living room and commenting on how tasty your blood smells tends to pressure people into things they wouldn't normally do.

He could get you the cure in an instant, but he'd really like to see if there any rituals that would allow you to be able to feast on his blood. He'll drag this out until just before it's too late.

He's not giving up on this idea even after you're cured (if you want to be.) He'd at least like to ensure you're safe if the worst happens.

He bursts into the room one night years later, excitedly yelling about how he's finally found it!

All you have to do is drink increasingly large amounts of his blood along with this powder every day until you die.

It only takes forty years to start working, and the internal burns become pleasantly mild even sooner than that!

It says here that ingesting nothing but other royal body fluids for only a year beforehand and adding it to the blood afterwards helps protect against the burns too!

Come on MC, let's start right now! ...Why aren't you jumping with joy?

...Why are you running? You're not getting out of his iron grip when even Beelzebub can't anyway.

Barbatos:

Another one with a rather dangerous blood type, but he gets your blood from more ethical sources like hospitals and blood banks he pays copious amounts of money to.

You don't know why it's so dangerous exactly, but Diavolo and Lucifer seem to.

(It takes your time away from you, literally. It leaches your "years" and gives them to Barbatos until you turn to dust. It has that affect on most demons too by the way.)

Not only is he a realm renowned baker and chef, but he's a master mixologist too.

If the blood is a little too hard to swallow at first he'll disguise it into your favorite drink and maybe introduce you to a few more favorites along the way.

He already knows the best flavor profiles. Drinking human blood wasn't exactly uncommon before Diavolo's ban after all.

He might even have a few bloodwines stashed away somewhere still.

You can still choose whether the drinks are alcoholic or non-alcoholic though of course.

He's seen plenty of transformations in his time so feel free to ask any questions.

You could ask for whatever you need to be more comfortable as well, but you never seem to be able to before he's already brought it to you.

He does everything he can to keep you comfortable during your transformation, but unfortunately his other responsibilities do occasionally get in the way.

He's happy to indulge you if you wish to pretend to be part of the "royal vampire court" with your loyal butler or whatever, so long as you don't get too bossy with him. He finds it endearing if a bit a childish.

Even if you try to hide it you might find Barbatos and Diavolo giving you knowing grins, but they won't say a word if you're the kind of person to get too embarrassed to continue.

You can definitely expect Diavolo to sneak his way into your "secret" larping.

Solomon:

"Are you certain allowing them to ingest that much demon blood is wise? Vampire or not they're still human, one that hasn't even reanimated yet."

Finally, some good fucking food! (How ironic)

His blood tastes almost stale and kind of feels like eating Pop Rocks after a spell, but it's mercifully thin and you can feel it merging with your own easily.

You absorb some of his power along with it as well. It's never been so easy to cast his spells, it almost feels like you've casted them a hundred times before.

He'll offer to disguise the taste of blood like Barbatos, knowing better than anyone how gross that could be to you, but it may or may not make you more nauseous when he's done with it.

He's very considerate if you two haven't been this close before. Solomon continuously asks if you're uncomfortable and avoids making too much contact unless you initiate it.****

He'll even bottle it up himself if direct contact is too much for you.

He's not drooling over the concept of being your personal chew toy like some of the others, but he's not completely averse to the idea of a romantic partner feeding off of him either.

He's kind of the epitome of "Wait, don't ask one of the brothers! I'll do it."

He'd prefer if you stayed fully human, but he won't push the issue even if you two are together.

He does have plenty of connections if you'd like to be cured however.

He could even cure you himself if you give him a little bit of time.

It tastes horrible, but he went out of his way to ensure it caused as little pain as possible.

Simeon:

He may not be the best guardian, but even he refuses to let you near Luke.

Simeon himself doesn't seem the slightest bit afraid of you coming near him however.

He's even kind enough to offer you a large vial of his own blood. He believes drinking straight from the body of an angel is a bit... uncouth you see.

Wouldn't such a holy thing be dangerous to a vampire you say? Actually, yeah, it is.

If you had gone through the full process of dying and reanimating it would've killed you permanently. As it is now it's just excruciatingly painful for days straight while it reverses the curse.

Pure angelic blood alone would be dangerous, but this a potent mix of that as well holy water blessed specifically to ward off vampiric influences.

He had to call in quite a few favors for this so he expects to hear a thank you as soon as you can speak again. All that screaming has left you rather hoarse hasn't it? He'll bring you some water, unblessed this time.

Sure he could've told you and let you make the decision yourself, but what if you made the wrong one? Guiding you back to the right path could take a while and you don't have very long until it's irreversible.

What's a little pain in the pursuit of holiness anyway? You'll recognize it's for your own good soon enough.

Going nearly a full week without sustenance is fairly hard on the body, especially during such a taxing process.

He can't allow his favorite little lamb to become corrupt again through someone else's blood if they decide to feed you. Even humans are rather sinful after all.

Luckily you were in far too much pain to tell anyone that Simeon forced this on you, so it's rather easy for him to come visit you.

Holding you down and shoving his bloody wrist in your mouth was fairly easy as well. You were very eager after all, he knew you'd come around once he made you see the light.

If Simeon has to pray on his knees until they bruise and commit self-flagellation after seeing you begging for him while you ran your tongue all over him? Well, that's between him and God.

It does make him regret not giving you a choice however. Only because he wants to avoid burdening others of course.

Not because he could've had you begging for your own painful purification as he drug out your daily sips from him to last for weeks, of course not.

Simeon feeding you is pure charity, or so he'll say when anyone asks.

Really, what else could such a pure, holy being gain from such a thing besides the satisfaction of helping others?

Luke:

Although he can't see you he sends you plenty of "get well soon" cards, with extra glitter glue!

Have you ever seen an entire sheet of prayers written in said glitter glue? Well now you have, and you better display it proudly.

It's kind of fun seeing everyone practically jump back after reading to glare at it anyway.

He's really sad that your stomach isn't in any state to be eating sweets, but he'll more than make up for it when you're better.

Maybe some drinks will be okay? He'll try to enlist Barbatos' help.

Luke is more than a little conflicted if he manages to find out about Simeon's stunt (if he was even able to do it under everyone's nose.)

He knows it's necessary medicine, but wouldn't it have better to let you choose? It's not like you were going to say no anyway, right?

He'd never question the Celestial Realm's code of conduct of course!

...But putting someone through that much pain without even warning them first almost seems a little... demonic if he's being honest with himself.

* It came out sounding a little more unintentionally gross than I intended it to, but I figured that was fitting for the man that compared us to his sister on a date so I left it.

** Inspired by how he watched the movie in the Ruri-chan event. I think he'd be most comfortable in and automatically default to a more voyeuristic role as that'd basically all he does "romantically" when playing or watching things.

That along with no social interaction (and tbh being autistic myself I really see him being autistic as well. He checks off almost all the stereotypical symptoms) can lead to things like creepily intense eye contact if you get focused enough to stop being nervous about it.

Levi was also completely unbothered by the kiss right before you leave Devildom. He didn't even blush and just gloated about it unlike when you hug him. To me that points to him getting flustered by the feelings behind certain actions, not physical intimacy in itself.

*** It might seem more fitting for Asmo, but sloth is all about complacency and taking the easy way out instead of fighting for what you believe in. Allowing corruption into your ranks or putting off things for later and etc. (Forgiving your murderer because its easier...)

I personally think just making people sleepy or something would be a little too boring and not all that useful. It also fits his bratty personality.

**** Honestly I was really surprised by how different canon Solomon was from the typical fanon take. He's like the King of Consent and really sweet.

Simeon's section might be a little controversial, but he's already been shown to have a sadistic side and do things for MC without taking their feelings into account at all. He’s also started to imply the brothers aren’t good enough for MC and talked about "good" lies vs "bad" lies.

Maybe it's my religious trauma, but I could definitely see him at least forcing the potion on MC considering they'd become such an "unholy" and potentially feral "human" if not cured within a time limit.

It seems like it'd be part of an angel's duty to help steer them away from voluntarily becoming one. Biblical angels are brutal so even this way would probably encouraged. Simeon's a rather rebellious angel, but he's not doing it solely because he would be expected to.

#obey me headcanons #obey me imagines #Obey Me Yandere #obey me undateables #Yandere Imagines #Obey Me Simeon #Obey Me Diavolo #Obey Me Barbatos #Obey Me Leviathan #obey me belphegor #obey me beelzebub #obey me luke #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me asmodeus #obey me satan #yandere #imagines

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indianamoonshine · 3 years ago

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Strawberry | Chapter 13 | Common Tongue

Summary: This chapter is titled after a Hozier song. Take that as you will.

Rating: M. If I see anyone minor interacting with this or hear of anyone reading it, I will block your ass.

TAG LIST: @t3a-bag @lumimon47 @dodgerandevans @hallway5 @dancingwiththeplanets @steeevienicks @orneryscandallousandevil @ficthots @gaiusfrakkinbaltar @reginagina-blog1 @loveme-tenderly @lastphoenixrising @rattlemyb0nes @rebellou @alljusthumans @gaiuswrites @lovecatsnotpeople @literallydontlook

“I’m a virgin,” you had said to him one night.

It meant nothing.

It meant nothing because, to him, you were the same with or without having slept with someone. Din knew that - had you chose him - it would be an honor. He would think no differently of you either way, and that even if the two of you never had sex, he was glad to have met you.

Now he thinks he may be addicted.

Part of him really wishes that you hadn’t gone this far; that the innocence would have lasted until whenever it was that he forced to leave. Because now he was in over his fucking head.

Behind the shed, you’d grabbed his hand and palmed yourself against the cotton of your underwear. The song of cicadas did a humbling job of masking your little pants or the way you whimpered beneath him. And, sure, Din did everything in his power to break traditional norms, but he wasn’t going to fuck you behind a shed for the first time. His heart broke when he separated himself from you and you whined underneath your breath in protest.

“Come on,” he huffed, lungs attempting to keep up. “Let’s go.”

Three minutes.

That’s how long it took to run from the main house to the cabin. Three goddamned minutes was a record. You don’t recall running that fast since becoming an adult. If your high school gym teacher has witnessed the velocity in which you just sprinted, she’d be amazed.

It was good old fashioned motivation.

Fortunately, Din’s barely taken his hands off of you so he managed to catch your clumsy ass when you tripped over the lip of the front door. The two of you had chuckled against the other before he asked, “Are you alright?”

“Yeah,” you giggle. You place a hand upon your cheek in feign distress. “But I think I may need to lay down…”

Your tone, which is laced with suggestive demure, has Din raising a brow. “Oh yeah?” he growls.

You nod sweetly, lips still pressed against his. “Mm hm.”

You’re so goddamn beautiful.

When he presses you against the plushness of the sheets, he admires the way your hair fans about you and frames your face. Your cheeks are flushed and your lips plump from his kiss, the natural pout of them more pronounced now that he’s bitten and sucked at the flesh. The brilliance of your skin glows beneath the yellow light, neck joining the expanse of your bust which heaves with endurance. He kisses down your pulse point until he reaches the neck of his t-shirt.

His t-shirt.

“Can I?” he whispers against the hollow of your neck, fingering the edge of the fabric.

“Yes.”

You’ve never been this exposed to anyone other than the occasional friend (when changing) or your sisters (also when changing). It’s been so long since you’ve gone outside of yourself - into the very thick of reality - so when he asked if he could reveal you to it, the urgent “yes” surprised yourself.

Still - it’s another kind of anxiety; not violent, but in the way. When he’s stripped the shirt from your body - carefully, as though he were unwrapping a priceless antique - it’s a natural instinct to cover yourself, confident of the way you weren’t.

“Take all the time you need,” he whispers against the flesh of your neck. “I’m a patient man.”

It should’ve been enough and maybe in an alternate universe it was. Maybe that version of you threw all misogynistic beauty standards out the window into the night, but in this present day-in-age, you took a minute to go over the mental checklist. What if you weren’t to his standards? What was the situation like down there? What would you do if he wasn’t all that you decided him to be?

How long would it take to heal from that?

Before your mother died she took your hand and made you promise: I will do everything I can to feel joy, as fleeting as it may be. There are lessons to be learned. She’d made you chant it in a monkish way, as though preforming a ceremony in the sterility of a hospital room strung with cheap tinsel and a sad, plastic tree at her bedside. You’d understood what she meant then like the way a student might understand the components of Ancient Greek; not until it is utilized can its full potential make any sense at all.

The philosophers - and your mother - be onto something.

Something like a muffled version of his name slips lazily through your lips. And while it’s dissected, pulled apart with a lazy and tense breath, it’s the first time his name has sounded poetic. Din never thought of himself this way; that his person could ever inspire such an organic response as the way you unwound beneath him. He’s laid with women before - three, he thinks - but he’s not positive he’s ever experienced a woman before.

Xian was good at what she did and she knew it; Din wasn’t oblivious to that but it lacked a certain something. The other times his body has been weaved together with another’s was faceless; just hookups he’s tried so desperately to forget. Hazy nights in which he woke up to in the morning, their backs to him, and identity indistinguishable. Eventually he just stopped trying.

It wasn’t until now with your fingers clutching at his hair that he realized how the act - the very dance itself - could be purifying. How it could wash away the very worst of similar experiences and how it made something that always felt cheap now priceless. The body is a temple, his elders would always say, and it never made any sense to him. The body is a fortress made to withstand hurricanes and torpedos. It was no place to kneel, to worship, to inspire anything other than sheer refuge.

How ironic, as kneeling was the very thing he was doing now.

Irony wasn’t the word. Fateful, he supposes, as he tastes the fruit that’s always been so forbidden to him. Your thighs clench around his head and the fingers that have been stroking his hair grip the sheets, white knuckling the starched weave, until a gasp is caught in your throat. And then there is nothing but the pressure of ignition until it crumbles around you, fizzing the air with something akin to champagne bubbles.

There is no nasally whine that follows afterwards like there always had been before you. No wild “yes!” that pollutes the air. Just the instability of a weakened chest, the grasping at air, and the delicious feel of your hand enveloping his after having pulled it from your sex.

You weren’t a stranger to penetration though this was was with exceptions; no one had ever done anything to you with foreign or, well, domestic objects. At the age of eighteen, your friends at the time had dragged you to the building on the east end of town that never officially existed until legality said that it did. La Boudoir Rouge was the place ‘vodka aunts’ went to cure the blues, bought mysterious items, and then hid the pink bags in the back of their closets.

So, yes; sex was a foreign exchange policy you’ve never found yourself involved in, but you knew the dynamics. You’d bought equipment and even enjoyed it more than you’d initially expected. Penetration wasn’t at all strange to you.

This made it easier, you think, as Din finally slides in. There was a stretch of course, and it took you a moment to get comfortable enough to brave any movement. Din drops his forehead upon yours, letting out a strangled breath through his nose, as you struggle to come to terms with the size. He’d given off an energy but…

“It’s so big,” you gasp once he reaches the spongey part of you. It feels stupid, it falls short on a botched intake of breath, but it’s the truth.

Din’s composing himself, silent in his endeavor to mold himself within you. His arms are pressed on either side of you, body flush against yours with his pelvis meeting your pubic bone. There’s another moment of silence before he kisses at your temple.

“Are you okay?” he whispers.

A smile graces your lips, though your eyes are clenched. “That’s an understatement.”

The pace is fast, sweat inspiring. It drips down your neck until it falls in the valley of your breasts and Din wants so badly to lick it from your skin, but he’s too distracted by the way you clench around him. It’s ironclad - it’s the best goddamn pussy he’s ever had.

He wants to tell you that but he’s unsure of how you’d react. You’ve been letting out delicious gasps and moans reaching an octave you’d never reach sober, but not you’re coherently vocal enough for him to say it outright.

And then you breathe it in a pathetic whine: “It’s yours, Din. It’s yours.”

He almost stops, but his body is hellbent on seeing this through. Whatever the fuck this was; a spiritual experience maybe. Perhaps he’d died after the last mission - broken and buried underneath mounds of dirt - and now rests in paradise where he fucks his way through eternity.

A raw, animalistic response possesses him, the fistful of flesh from your hips is replaced by the swell of you cheeks. He embraces you softly, but sternly enough to incite a whimper.

“What was that, chica bonita, huh?”

You throw your head back as he slams his hips against yours with more force, the excitement conjuring a great wave of adrenaline coursing through his veins. You try to speak but it fails to materialize.

He was balls deep and you were still shy by your interjection.

“What’s mine, sweet girl?” he whispers, mouth tickling along your collarbones. The contrast of gentle words and barbaric thrusts is something he’s never experienced during sex. Ever.

You let out one more mouthwatering whine before saying: “My pussy is yours, Din. Take it. Please, please…”

Suffice to say, that’s what does it. The two of you cum at the same time, like a synchronized dance, clutching one another so tightly it leaves red ribbons. Your fingernails had dug into his forearms and his at your waist in which his hands wrapped around. He lets out a deep, broken growl as you whimper, shaking like a leaf, and he pulls out just in time to paint your belly with pearlescent threads.

He collapses on top of you, knocking the wind from your fragile body. You’re absolute jelly beneath him, crumbled into bits, and would never be the same. Let’s stay here forever, you want to tell him.

Din presses his face into the hollow of your neck, listening to the rapid pulse beneath flushed and thin skin. Then he kisses the blood flow beneath once, twice. “My gorgeous girl…”

Stay with me. Stay with me.

You wrap your arms - which have settled from the convulsions - around his neck and hug him tightly against you.

Don’t leave me. Don’t leave me.

#din djarin x reader #din x reader #strawberryfic #mando x reader #the mandalorian x reader #din x y/n #din x you #mando x y/n #mando x you

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themidgardlibrary · 2 years ago

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Thank you for this commentary. I didn't know how to both share the "it's not time management, it's psychological stuff" and comment so my brain short circuited and just posted without comment, and this helped me to actually job my brain into putting what I want to say into words.

Like, oh, yeah, it totally has to do with 'mood', but it's not something that can simply be *managed*. My executive dysfunction does not happen because I am not frolicking in a sufficient number of fields, it happens because my brain chemicals are all fucky.

My mood is not something I can manage like a sheepdog manages a herd of sheep. It is a series of chemical reactions that, even with medication helping, I cannot control.

I can't suddenly cure my depression by watching enough kitten videos. I'm not able to forget that the world is on fire, that I am under threat of being legally regulated out of existence like some shitty lightbulb, or that I am disabled and will be for the rest of my life.

I can't suddenly counter my ADHD by shooting myself up with dopamine (because so few things GIVE me dopamine these days, and the ways to LITERALLY boost your dopamine are both illegal and likely to interact badly with my prescription medications) so suddenly I'm getting the chemical reactions I need to do whatever work I need to do, because doing anything I'm not intimately interested in is an uphill battle of monumental proportions because my brain is wired shittily. I'm even on meds for my ADHD, and they only do so much!

I can't suddenly turn off my autism and become a neurotypical who doesn't have to prepare a week ahead of time to leave the house to get groceries, because the sheer amount of energy it takes to succeed at the task is monumental AND the fact is that sensory overload is almost guaranteed.

And let's not get into my OCD, because it compounds ALL of the above more than they compound each other, which is a fucking LOT, because it adds arbitrary rules that I CANNOT circumvent without massive amounts of either energy, panic, or anxiety meds of a strength I'm not allowed to have because someone is afraid I might sell it to some depressed suburban mom, or worse, get 'addicted' to something that might ACTUALLY help me function.

My issues are about as managed as they can get without the WORLD ITSELF changing and becoming more mindful of my LITERAL NEEDS. My failure to function is not because I don't ~stay positive~, nor is it due to not getting enough sunlight, it's also not because I'm not eating farm fresh veggies every day, or whatever else people say will cure your depression/adhd/autism/ocd.

Maybe a neurotypical person without any mental illnesses can simply ~manage their mood~, which I actually question, but I *literally cannot do more than I am right now*. I am struggling to do even what I am, to a point that sometimes I run myself into the ground so hard I can't think AT ALL during the time I'm awake. Stop making it sound like it's as easy as just 'managing mood', and look at how there are seriously a whole lot of other factors! Stop making it out to look like it's a choice, or some personal failure!

Source: {x}

#adhd #autism #ocd #depression #neurodivergence #disability

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zwiebelbaguette · 2 years ago

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Okay, folks, so ... The Orville spoilers for 3x7 coming up. But let me talk to you about why The Orville is at least slightly better at letting disabled and neurodivergent people exist in their world than ... well, Star Trek (sorry, Trek, I love you, but you SUCK at actually making your WORLD accessible to people like me, not to mention that a lot of the fandom is deeply ableist) - and what still hurts a little.

So, we’re currently in Disability Pride Month and this fact and the current episode in combination are enough to talk about representation and world building in The Orville.

Let me start with the latter. The world building. Because even though we see stairs and steps on the ship, which sucks, if there’d be no way around, we also get to see people being allowed to hydrate on the bridge, take a break and there’s even talk about ‘my shift ends’ and weekend. Like ... we still don’t see part-time jobs, but other than Trek they actually have at least some foundation of a healthy work life that is not based on skipping shore leave and working over time as often as possible. And yes, of course, on Trek we also see people have some time off. But there never seem to be actual boundaries of ‘No, I’m off duty and I will not come to work NOW’.

And yes, of course, this is such a low level of accessibility. But in all SciFi shows I know, this is still the highest level of accessibility in world building to exist so far.

Okay, and then ... representation.

Yep, that ... kinda sucks, right? I mean, they have a lot of very different characters with very different needs, some of them actually at least relatable to disabled people. But we don’t see actual disabled characters yet.

And still ... The Orville has managed something this week that Star Trek is still getting wrong and has been getting wrong for its entire run so far: Let neurodivergent coded characters stay neurodivergent!

Because in Trek we had Spock - who was mocked for being Vulcan (basically neurodivergent, just with alien disguise) and who later only found peace in loosening up and becoming a little more neurotypical.

Then came Data, who always longed to become ‘human’ - which, again, here was meant as neurotypical, because a lot of the characteristics that were presented as not human were what we neurodivergent HUMANS can relate to, how WE live and experience the world.

Next was Odo, who tried to become more human to be able to win over Kira - even though she wasn’t even human herself. Just neurotypical.

Tuvok - mocked again, though he at least was allowed to remain who he was. But the ridicule never stopped. And Seven? Seven was even forced into lessons of how to behave properly. Even to the point where she was told she would only be granted freedom once she stopped being who she was. And she was forced, again and again, into situations that felt unnatural to her. That shit is real for us neurodivergent people. There are ‘therapies’ out there torturing us into behaving like neurotypicals!

Next is T’Pol, who again was defragmentised, got a drug addiction on top and then came the freaking ‘cured by love’ trope, where she became more open and more likeable - and less mocked - when she fell in love with a human.

Michael Burnham coming up now. And I admit, that was what broke me most. We finally had a HUMAN being, who was portrayed in a way that I could find myself in the character. There was a human who was allowed to be neurodivergent in a way I am. But oh no, we learn, that that was only forced upon her and within a few episodes (and of course, again, partially cured by love), she becomes ....well, traumatised, yes, but neurotypically coded. So, Trek has gone through A LOT to show people like me, that we’re not enough. That we’re not considered human and that if we want to live in the society in Trek, we have to either be neurotypical or be ridiculed. We’re not worthy of love, otherwise, and perhaps not even worthy being considered mature, free individuals with the freedom of choice. In comes The Orville with Isaac. Isaac cannot ‘feel’ emotions. (Though, in a way, while he cannot feel, he can, algorithmically, form bonds. Who’s to say what is considered emotion, really!) Isaac is curious about human behaviour and wants to learn, but not BECOME human, other than Data. And Isaac is corrected if he is rude, yes. And he is the victim of pranks. But only when he expressed an interest in humour, he is not being mocked for who he is.

And this week? This week he was given the opportunity if he wanted to get emotions. (Again, I don’t really understand how they differentiate human emotions from his algorithms, but alright.)

Claire, his girlfriend, first blackmails him into getting emotions. And yes, I’m MASSIVERLY mad at her. She also forces him to change his exterior to look human when they’re eating dinner. This is some unhealthy, shitty behaviour and NOT what a good relationship looks like!) But, and here, massive kudos to The Orville, when there’s a malfunction with the emotion and Isaac has the choice to either live on without emotions or loose his memories, but gain emotions, and he says, he’d do it for Claire ...

... She accepts, who he is and doesn’t force him into such a sacrifice. She makes the choice that he, how he really is, is what she wants. That he being himself is enough. And as much as I still think, the way she treats this relationship is really wrong and somewhat toxic, the Orville got right what Trek has messed up for SO long. Giving me the feeling of ... belonging. Of me also being enough. And yes, I might be crying here. Because, again, this is just a basic, low level thing about representation and belonging, but ... this is actually the best representation we ever got in a SciFi show! Because never have neurodivergent or disabled people ever BEEN ENOUGH, without walking the extra mile, without changing for the neurotypical, abled people around them.

So, thank you, The Orville, for once again taking something that Trek never didn’t quite get right ... and making it right. May this, as well as ‘The Tale of Two Topas’, be the foundation on which other shows will expand representation and inclusive world building. May we finally, with the help of SciFi, make the first, tentative steps into a better future.

#The Orville #Star Trek #disability pride month

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angelic-serenade · 4 years ago

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“losing game” || fukuzawa yukichi

gif does not belong to me, nor do the anime & characters

fandom: bungou stray dogs

pairing: fukuzawa yukichi x gn!reader (1st person pov)

warnings: angst, lots of hurt and no comfort, emotional distress, barely mentioned mental instabilty, plot twist

a/n: just a little something i managed to write during the few moments of free time from uni. read as a letter to yukichi from the second paragraph onwards!! hope you enjoy, let me know if you like the new lyric-prose style i’m experimenting with!

word count: 1434

synopsis/prompt: “a broken heart is all that's left, i'm still fixing all the cracks” ― arcade, duncan laurence

there is something noteworthy and indistinguishably patronizing which marks the mere presence of one fukuzawa yukichi – be it his wise and almost all-knowing gaze or his imposing posture, the way he manages to command respect without so much as a gesture anywhere he stands. he is authority and justice and that’s the only manner he allows himself to be, the only partial impression he allows others to make of him. sometimes i fret there really might be nothing more behind the carved, relentless shadow than the steely stares and unmovable frowns, lines so deep and intensely depicted that one might think of them as unforgiving – of what one may never know, if the unforgiveness staggers from the same place where the thoughts in his mind convince him that peace is something to be fought for but to never be attained. though sometimes the rough edges, the hollowed lines marking a tiredness which some days, some way feels all too familiar for comfort give way to a softer, unmistakably caring look; it’s almost imperceptible, the way he manages to turn the cold and unforgiving watercolors into a beautiful masterpiece, the true talent of the unrecognized artist – his eyes lose the usually guarded edge which serves to protect everything but himself, his strained lips imperceptibly curl at the edge of a smile and the way he almost lets his shoulders abandon the weight he carries as if it were an old, battered companion brings to mind a tender sort of sympathy that sticks and can never really be forgotten – or forgiven for that matter.

akin to the flourishing of the most precious cherry blossom, you never allow for these moments to last too long, nor do they recur as often as to make those you care for expect them – in that, i think of you as more alike to the orchid than the cherry, for whenever the mysteriously grim orchid blooms, one knows not to hope for more time than its evanescent beauty can offer. cherries come to be expected, granted, but orchids never kiss and tell and you end up entangled either way. and after all, is it not the inevitable transience of things that makes them all the more desirable? if you heard me talking this way, with flowers and art and everything fulfilling in this life on my lips, singing your praises as if you were my last day of spring and sunlight, i’m sure you’d scoff the silliness away – this is your way, the way things have always been and always will be. no matter what you seldom sternly say, i’ll always be fonder of orchids than cherry blossoms anyway, for in their grave allure i found my own kind of tragic beauty.

by now i am convinced that you know and have always known exactly how much power you yield and how little you’d need to make me forget my own sadness – those moments, the careless slips of that bleeding heart of yours, are never meant for me. it pains me so to stand by your side without being able to bask in your praises, but that’s just how things are supposed to be – i am in your life, and that’s all i will ever need. sometimes you look at me as if you expect to see something - or someone – else in my place and i always end up trying to fill the void left behind by an illusion i don’t even know the name of. there is a hole that feels like an aching fever permanently carved into my soul, it spreads like an illness each and every time your voice creeps into my mind; even now i think of you and suddenly i feel much worse and better at the same time because you can never be the cure, but you sure as hell turned into my favorite medication. when i’m not by your side, in your beloved agency with your beloved family – the only ones allowed to walk alongside you into the sun - i delude myself into thinking i somehow may get over these terrible feelings that stretch my mind and hollow my heart, desperately convincing myself that time will wash away all of the promises kept in your sleeve. but sometimes, times that are just some and so unbelievably others, far in between and still so unfathomably precious to me, sometimes you let me hope and crave and i am almost convinced it could maybe be enough. the truth is that i have only ever known pain and i learned to make an addiction out of it.

once you called me by your side and i was quick to follow, as i always am because it’s you after all. under the feeble setting sun, the words spilled faultlessly from your lips, as if they had been composed to the likelihood of those poems about tragedy and grace i was stubborn enough to keep reading at night, and i stood in awe as you let me sip the most bitter of nectars, an aftertaste so haunting i knew it would forever ruin any chance of escaping this, of escaping you. welcoming the sudden flood with far more haste and yearning than i’d like to admit, you told me many things that day – about the agency, about your duty, about mine-, but you did not dare to utter my name even once, as you never did. you thanked me – me, little old, battered and faded, wide eyed and heavy-hearted me with no home to turn to and no more dreams in my closet to spare. you who had retrieved the pandora box and sealed it shut with your bare hands, you who had showed me another way, another path that nearly splintered my spirit all over again. i smiled still and for the briefest passing moment i almost hoped for you to reciprocate the minutest hint of affection; you raised your hand and rested it on my shoulder – it was warm, and it felt like water, like the purest form of unattainable salvation and i almost found myself crying in front of your unshakeable stance.

there was another time when you did gift me the smile i so desperately wished to keep for myself and i burn still, because look at what you made of me and what did you reduce my integrity to – i am neither blessing nor curse, the limbo of your love turned me into a willing martyr rejoicing the smallest act of kindness. you ruined me and i let you. i let you because a singular moment of bliss was worth the relentless tortures of your inferno.

i follow you around and keep you company still, but you never seem to acknowledge my unyielding pestering (just like before). when you let your guard down, my eyes lose themselves in yours because i can never completely understand what goes on in that obliviously rigid mind of yours – you look apathetic or sad or something that’s quite in between. oftentimes i worry for you, but you have always managed to cope and stand strong even as the tide came to wash away the last footprints of a decaying era, i believe you ought to keep doing so for another lifetime still. you have people who are dear to you as you are to them and for how much you’re unwilling to admit it, i also know that you keep a picture of me in your pocket, the one hidden on the inside of your austere kimono, somewhere between your contrite self-loathing and the lovely remnants of the day. when you think i can’t see you, i notice you make a habit of touching the spot where it’s concealed as if to remind yourself i am something right within your grasp, but that you’d never allow yourself to have. you never take me out of that pocket to properly relish the view and i will never ask you to. you grew fond of another illusion, as you’re prone to always do.

“the road to hell is paved with good intentions” i chant to myself when no one is listening, for my good intentions have only ever been inspired by you and burning and rotting in hell now barely sounds like a threat at all if i got to hear your praise just one more time.

today as you once again kneel pathetically curved upon my solitary grave, i can hear you weep yet; it’s been a while since you came to see me but finally for the first time, you call my name –

maybe you really did love me after all.

#bungou stray dogs fukuzawa #fukuzawa yukichi #bungou stray dogs #fukuzawa yukichi x reader #gender neutral reader #gn reader #bungou stray dogs imagine #oneshot #fukuzawa x reader #angst #bsd #bsd x reader #fukuzawa x y/n #bsd x y/n #armed detective agency #inspired by music #arcade by duncan laurence #i love this man ngl

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princekumar25 · 1 year ago

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princekumar23 · 1 year ago

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rallamajoop · 4 years ago

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...and the unironic joys of better living through chemistry

How do I love Venom: The Hunger, let me count the ways…

It’s by far the shippiest Venom/Eddie story to come out of the character’s heyday. It’s the only story of the era to treat Venom’s violent wild-animal instincts not as an immutable fact, but as something that can be managed. It pulls off an aesthetic like nothing else that was being done at the time.

And then there’s the way it says, Does the world around you seem sinister and foreboding? Do you lie awake at night contemplating metaphorical oceans of despair? Well shit, son – have you considered you may be suffering from a mundane neurochemical imbalance, and a round of the right meds could clear that right up for you?

It does all this without breaking the atmosphere, without a whiff that our story has been interrupted for a Very Special Message about mental health.

In the near-decade since I was first prescribed anti-depressants, I don’t think I’ve read another story that lands the message “Sometimes, it’s not you, it’s just your brain chemistry,” so well.

Fair warning: if you have not read The Hunger, I am about to spoil every major plot point. If you have, well, maybe I can still give you a new appreciation for a few details you might have missed.

It’s a strange book, whatever else you take from it. It’s almost the only thing either author or artist contributed to the Venom canon, and it’s so different stylistically and tonally from the 90′s Venom norm that it feels like a tale from some noir-elseworlds setting instead of 616 canon. When you take risks that big with a property, you leave yourself precious little landing space between 'unmitigated triumph’ and ‘abject failure’: if this book hadn’t absolutely nailed it, I’d be dismissing it as edgy, OOC dreck. Fortunately, if The Hunger is nothing else, it is a story that $&#@ing commits – to basically everything it does.

Now, I'm not going to tell you Venom: The Hunger is a story about overcoming depression, because I don't know whether author Len Kaminski even thought about it that way while working on it. There's always space for other readings, and this one take is not gospel. That said: holy shit is this thing unsubtle with its metaphors. And with that in mind, let’s start by talking a little about Kaminski’s take on Eddie himself.

As I may have mentioned before, I like to divide 90′s Eddie into two broad personas: the Meathead, and the Hobo.

Kaminski’s Eddie nominally belongs in the angsty, long-haired Hobo incarnation, but that’s a bit of a simplification: this version certainly has plenty of angst and plenty of hair to his name – but nowhere, not even at his lowest ebb, does he doubt that he and his Other are meant for each other, which is usually Hobo!Eddie’s primary existential quandary.

He’s also taken up narrating his own life like a hardboiled PI.

So that’s... novel.

The only other time Eddie’s sounded like this is, er, in that one other Venom one-shot Kaminski penned (Seed of Darkness, a prequel that sadly isn’t in The Hunger’s league), so I think we can safely file it under authorial ticks.

Then again, Hobo!Eddie’s always been one melodramatic SOB, so maybe this is just how he’d sound after learning to channel his angst into his poetry. You can’t argue it fits the aesthetic, anyway.

We’d also be remiss not to mention Ed Halsted’s art, which I can only describe as gothic-meets-noir-meets-H.R.-Giger. Never before or since has the alien symbiote looked this alien: twisted with Xenompoph-like ridges and veins.

But Halsted doesn’t treat Venom to all that extra detail in every panel. Instead, the distortion tends to appear when the symbiote is separated from Eddie or out of control – and I doubt you need me to walk you through the symbolic importance of that creative decision. More importantly, Halsted’s art provides exactly the class of visuals that Kaminski’s story needs.

Did I mention this is a horror story? You might be surprised how few Venom stories really fit that genre, but if all those adjectives about Halsted’s style above didn’t clue you in, this is one of them.

Anyway, with that much context covered, let’s get into the main narrative of this thing.

As our first issue opens, Eddie’s world has become a dark and foreboding place. He’s not sleeping, though he mostly brushes this off. (Fun fact: trouble sleeping is one of those under-appreciated symptoms of depression. Additional fun fact: the first doctor ever to suggest I might be suffering from depression was actually a sleep specialist. You can guess how that appointment was going.)

Just to set our scene, here’s all of page 1.

Eddie’s narration has plenty of (ha) venom for his surroundings, but the visuals are here to back him up: panels from Eddie’s POV are edged in twisted, fleshy borders and drained of colour, the people rendered as creepy, goblin-like creatures. A couple of later scenes go even further to contrast Eddie-vision with what everyone else is seeing:

As depictions of depression go this is a little on the nose, but then, you don’t read a comic about a brain-eating alien parasite looking for subtlety, do you?

Eddie doesn’t see himself as depressed, of course. As far as he’s concerned, he’s seeing the world’s true face: it’s everyone else who’s deluding themselves. He’s still got his symbiote, so he’s happy. He’s yet to hit that all-important breaking point where something he can’t brush off goes irrevocably wrong.

But he’s also starting to experience these weird... cravings.

He just can’t put a name to exactly what he’s craving until a routine bar fight with a couple of thugs takes a turn for the horrific.

(I include this panel partly to point out even in The Hunger, the goriest of all 90′s Venom titles, you’re still not going to see brains getting eaten in any graphic detail. We don’t need to to get the horror of the moment across. The 90′s were a more innocent time.)

Eddie himself is horrified when he comes back to himself and realises what he’s done.

Or rather, what his symbiote’s just made him do.

Kaminski doesn’t keep us in suspense about why, though. Eddie may have just done something horrific, but there’s a reason, and it’s as mundane as a vitamin deficiency. He’s bonded to an alien creature, after all, and his symbiote is craving a nutrient which just happens to be found in human brains. And if Eddie can’t or won’t help it meet that need, it’ll do so alone.

Now, giving us that explanation so quickly is an interesting creative decision: this is a horror story, and horror lives in what we don’t know. Wouldn’t it be all the more horrifying had the symbiote been unable to explain what’s going on, leaving Eddie without the first real clue as to where this monstrous new hunger had come from?

The Hunger doesn’t take that route though, and I love it. Eddie isn’t a monster, this isn’t his fault: he has a fucking condition, and wallowing in his own moral failings is going to get him nowhere. You might as well try to cure scurvy or rickets with positive thinking. Just like depression can make you feel like an utter failure at the most basic parts of being human, and all the affirmations in the world won’t fix it when it’s fundamentally your brain chemistry that’s the problem. Or like addicts aren’t weak-willed for struggling not to relapse, they’re dealing with genuine chemical dependency – or even like how someone who’s trans isn’t at fault for being unable to reconcile themselves to the bodies and the hormones they were born with by pure force of trying. Free will is more than an illusion, but we’re all messy, biological organisms underneath, and your own brain and biochemistry can and will fuck you over in a hundred wildly different ways for as many wildly different reasons and it’s not your fault.

We aren’t monsters. But if we do, sometimes, find ourselves identifying with the monster, there might be a reason for that.

(Ahem)

I’m just saying, that’s fucking powerful, and we need more stories that say it.

Anyway, in case you missed it during that tangent, issue #1 closes with the symbiote having torn Eddie’s heart in two itself free to go hunting brains without him.

I’m trying not to get too sidetracked at this point talking about Kaminski’s take on the symbiote itself. Suffice to say there are broadly two schools of thought on how it ought to function while separated from its host: the traditional ambulatory-slime-puddle version, and the more recently popular alternative where anything-you-can-do-with-a-host-you-can-also-do-without-one. I’m not much of a fan of the latter, personally: if your symbiote doesn’t actually need a host, I feel you’ve sort of missed the point. (The movie takes the route of saying symbiotes can’t even process Earth’s atmosphere without a host, which is a great new idea that appears nowhere in the comics, and I love it. Hosts or GTFO, baby!)

Kaminski has his own take, and I can only wish it had caught on. Without Eddie, the symbiote becomes an ever-shifting insectoid-tentacle-snake-monstrosity, driven by an animalistic hunger. It’s many things, but it’s never humanoid.

If you absolutely must have your symbiote operating minus a host, I feel this is the way to do it: semi-feral, shapeless and completely alien (uncontrollable violence and cravings for brains to be added to taste).

Issue #2 comes to us primarily through the perspective of the mild-mannered Dr. Thaddeus Paine of the Innsmouth Hills Sanitarium (yes, really).

Yeah, he’s not fooling anyone. Meet our official villain! He joins our story after Eddie is picked up by the police and handed off to the nearest available institution, on account of how completely sane and rational he’s been acting.

Naturally, Dr. Paine soon has copious notes on Eddie’s ‘crazy’ story about his psychic link to a brain-eating alien monster. Fortunately for Eddie, Paine also runs some tests and makes an interesting discovery.

Congratulations, Venom: the ‘vitamin’ you were missing officially has a name!

Finding the right meds isn’t always this easy. I got lucky – the first ones my psych put me on worked pretty well – but I have plenty of friends who weren't so lucky. In fact, the treatment for Eddie's problems is so straightforward it arguably has more in common with, say, endocrine disorders like thyroid conditions or Addison’s disease, which differ from clinical depression but present many similar symptoms (but can sadly be just as much of a bitch to get correctly diagnosed – please do read author Maggie Stiefvater’s account of the latter when you get the chance, because forget Venom, that is a horror story).

‘True’ depression remains much less well understood by medicine, either in its causes or how to effectively treat it. But simply having a name for what was wrong with me made so much difference, and that’s an experience I imagine anyone who’s dealt with any long undiagnosed medical condition could relate to. It put my life in context in a way nothing else had in years.

(I can’t speak to the accuracy of the way phenethylamine is portrayed in this comic – a quick google suggests there may be some real debate that phenethylamine deficiencies have been overlooked as a contributor to clinical depression, but having no medical background, that one’s well beyond me. Either way, scientific accuracy really doesn’t matter in this context – it’s how it works in-universe for story purposes that we should pay attention to.)

Since this issue is mostly from Paine’s POV, we don’t get Eddie’s reaction to having a healthy amount of phenethylamine sloshing around in his brain again, just the assurance that treatment appears to be ‘completely successful’.

He’s still a paranoid, hostile bastard though. Meds can turn your life around, but they won’t make you not you.

But even if Eddie’s feeling better, he’s still psychically linked to someone who isn’t. Symbiote-vision still comes through drained of colour and edged in viscera.

That’s the thing about meds: they won’t solve all your problems overnight. If you’ve been depressed for a while, there are good odds you have problems stacking up. But working meds can be a godsend when it comes to getting you into a space where you can deal with your problems again, whether said problems are doing-your-laundry or all the way into not-giving-up-completely-and-just-accepting-you’ll-die-alone-on-the-street.

For Eddie, ‘dealing with his problems’ begins with stealing a keycard and busting out of the asylum.

Of course, that’s the easy part. How do you solve a problem like a feral symbiote? Like any good 90′s comic book protagonist, Eddie tackles it by putting on his big-boy camouflage pants and kitting himself out with weapons and pouches while quoting “If you live something, set it free. If it doesn’t come back, hunt it down.”

We can add this to the list of things I love about this comic. Even if The Hunger is a weirdly-stylistic tract about depression at heart, it’s also still a goddamn 90′s Venom comic, and not ashamed to be.

We’re into issue #3 now, and back to hearing the story from Eddie’s POV.

Eddie is very much aware that his symbiote has murdered innocent people while they’ve been separated. Even if this is the result of extreme circumstances, there’s a good case to be made that the symbiote is too dangerous to be allowed to live. Plenty of heroes would treat it like a rabid dog at this point.

But Eddie isn’t a hero, he’s a mess of a character and an anti-hero at best, so we don’t have to hold him to the same standard. He’s well aware his symbiote may be too far gone to save, that he may have to put it down – but that’s only his backup plan. He wants to help it. He wants it back. He’s down in that sewer with screamers and a flamethrower because he knows all his symbiote’s weaknesses, but he’s also carrying a large jar of black-market synthesised phenethylamine, because if he can just get close enough...

Depression can’t make you a literal monster, but it can make you an asshole. Miserable to be around, lacking even the energy to care who else you’re hurting. The depression doesn’t excuse that, but it makes everything harder, and it’s that much easier to sink back into your spiral when everyone around you has given up. It can make you think everyone around has given up even if that isn’t true.

So to have Eddie here say, in effect, I don’t care how many people you’ve eaten, I know it wasn’t your fault. I still love you. You’re still worth fighting for – god, does that get me right in the id.

There’s still a whole issue left at this point – we’ve still got to deal with our real villain, Dr. Paine, who we’ve just learned is into eating brains himself and torturing his patients recreationally, and who wants to capture the symbiote for his own purposes. There’s the scene where Eddie and his symbiote finally bond again, and Venom beats up all Paine’s goons while singing David Bowie because like I said, this is still a 90′s superhero comic and this is what Venom does.

But for our purposes, I'm going to skip to the penultimate page of the story, because the way it mirrors our opening page is really lovely.

Remember that shot of Eddie dealing with a beggar back at the beginning of the story, thinking about how these people would 'get their despair all over you'? Here he is again, cheerfully forking over the last dollar in his pocket to the next man to ask him for change. For all the gothic atmosphere and gore, it’s moments like this that make The Hunger easily one of the most positive, uplifting Venom stories ever written. Funny, that. (I could probably write a whole other essay on sympathy for the homeless as a recurring motif in Venom stories, but that... well, whole other essay and all that.)

What’s Eddie learned from this experience? Don’t take your symbiote for granted. Is ‘symbiote’ a metaphor for mental health here, is paying attention to its needs an allegory for paying attention to your own? I still don’t know how literally Kaminski meant us to take this, but it’s a lovely note to end on no matter how you parse it.

At the end of the day, The Hunger isn’t flawless. The conflict with Paine ends on a thematic but slightly unsatisfying note. Eddie makes much of his symbiote's loneliness and desire for union, but when the two of them are finally reunited, the only reaction comes from Eddie's side. In fact, the symbiote seems to have no response to being able to return to Eddie at all, and that’s an omission that bugs me.

But Kaminski is more interested than any other writer of the era in the truly alien nature of the symbiote, in its relationship with Eddie from Eddie’s side, and though plenty of others talk about the symbiote's love/hate relationship with Spider-man, no-one else had the guts to portray their relationship this much like a romance.

And Venom: The Hunger is no less interesting in the context of Len Kaminski’s other work. You don't have to look far into his Marvel and DC credits to pick up that the guy has a real thing for monsters. (“All of my favourite characters are outlaws, misfits, anti-heroes,” he says, in one of the very few interviews I could find with him, “I wouldn't know what to do with Superman.”) He's written for vampires, werewolves, victims of mad science, and all of three at once, littering his work with biochemistry-themed technobabble, melodramatic monologues, gratuitous pop-culture references, and protagonists who must learn to embrace their inner demons. So The Hunger represents more than a few of his favourite running themes.

For our context, his more notable other work includes Children of the Beast, in which a werewolf must make peace between his human and animalistic sides, and The Creeper, in which a journalist must make peace with the crazy super-powered alter-ego sharing his body. In fact, The Creeper and The Hunger share so much DNA (including an evil doctor posing as a respected psychiatrist who uses hypnosis on our hero while he's trapped in a mental institution) that it’s quite the achievement that they still feel like such very distinct entities beyond that point.

The human alter-egos of both werewolf and Creeper even use prescription meds while wrestling with their respective dark sides. The difference, in both cases, is that these are stories where meds play their traditional fictional role – and that's a role that could be as easily filled by illegal drugs or alcohol without making any substantive difference. You see, if a protagonist is using them, it's a sign of unwillingness to tackle their 'real' problems. Even among work by the same author in the same genre, The Hunger represents an outlier. And that's just a little disappointing – at least to me.

In real life, of course, prescription meds are no magical cure-all elixir. Depression meds that work for one person may not work for another, or may not keep working in the longer term. Everyone has heard stories about quack doctors who prescribe them to the wrong patients for the wrong reasons, about lives ruined by addictions to prescription painkillers, or the supposedly-damning statistics about how poorly SSRI's perform in rigorous clinical trials. The proper way to treat depression is obviously with lifestyle and therapy. People will still airily dismiss medications that we all know previous generations got along just fine without, or suggest that figures like Van Gogh would never have created great art if they hadn't been mad enough to slice off an ear. I mean, the fact you think you need those bogus mediations is probably the best possible sign of just how broken you are, right? Who do you think you’re kidding?

Our popular fiction loves stories about manly men who bury their trauma under a gruff, anti-social exterior and come back swinging at the world that broke them, bravely refusing even painkillers that might dull their manly reflexes. Other genres make space for broken people confronting their demons in grand moments of catharsis, finally breaking down into tears when someone gets through to make them face their problems. "I could barely make it out of bed in the mornings until I found a doctor who started me on this new prescription" is not only wildly counter to the accepted social narrative, it's a hard thing to know how to dramatise.

Even other Venom comics have been guilty of this.

Believe me, I recognise all of this, and just how much progress we've made in the last few decades. But I haven't the slightest doubt that for so many vulnerable people, the stigma against prescription medications does infinitely more harm than those same meds could ever do. And just having the right to externalise my problems into it's not you, it's your brain chemistry, may have helped me more than the meds themselves.

(And again, no, being prescribed SSRI's didn't fix me overnight, but I honestly don't know if all the talk therapy and tearful conversations with family members in the world could've got me as far as I've come without them.)

I love Venom: The Hunger. It's no-one's idea of high art, but it doesn’t need to be. There is a whole other post’s worth of things I love about it that I’ve already cut out this one as pointless tangents, and that may actually be it’s biggest drawback as a go-to example: I fully recognise that I would not be making this post if The Hunger hadn't also also grabbed me as a great bit of Venom canon, being the massive fan and shipper that I am. Other people who are just as desperate as me for more stories with the same core theme, but not into weird 90's comics about needy goo aliens, probably won't get nearly as much out of it as I have.

But if it sounds anything like your jam, maybe you'll enjoy it as much as I did.

If nothing else, it proves that you can make a viscerally satisfying story out of a message that shockingly unconventional. And you may even have people still discovering it and falling in love with it 25 years after the fact.

#Venom: The Hunger #Venom #depression #SSRIs #Symbrock #Venom meta #meta #Venom comics #Len Kaminski

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edgyspit · 4 years ago

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lazy day

warnings: pretty toxic, possessive relationship/ very light violence

pairings: illumi x reader/OC

notes: this really is super self indulgent and mainly written to satisfy my own fantasies but I hope you can find it entertaining too!

illumi slips into bed and cuddles up with reader and starts to think about their future together

It was still dark out when illumi got home and decided to slip in through the bedroom window. There she was, sprawled out on the on the bed covered by the sheets that were thin enough that illumi could tell she was naked underneath. He moved across the room quietly making his way to the bed. He sat on the edge just watching her. He was resisting the urge to kiss her and wake her up. Illumi knew she often had trouble sleeping; she had woken up numerous times over the nights they had spent together screaming and petrified because of her nightmares. No matter how concerned he was, he knew better than to ask what they were about, but he always made sure to comfort her until she fell back into a blissful sleep. He always offered to use acupuncture to help her relax and she rarely let him; she wasn't very fond of it. Mostly because she was never the type to accept help.

Illumi began to play with her hair lightly for about half an hour until the sun began to rise. Slight shades of pink and orange began to fill the sky, but it didn't even compare to the beauty he was already admiring. He was eager for her to wake up but he knew she needed to get her rest. Eventually he decided to act on his selfish desire and grabbed her hair and pulled it lightly so she would be facing him.

"mmmm....hisoka?" she said sleepily

Illumi's heart shattered and a million thoughts of betrayal ran through his head. His head began to throb and he was feeling a pain he couldn't begin to describe. Hisoka? Why hisoka? Has he been seeing her while i was gone? Has he been in this bed with her? Our bed? Unconsciously his grip on her hair had tightened.

"ow! relax ilu, i was just messing with you!" She closed the gap between their lips and kissed him lightly. "i've been awake for a little while now, i just wanted to tease you after you pulled my hair!"

She was already starting to regret her little joke, it was too cruel. If she had thought it through a little more she'd have realized it wasn't a good idea. Illumi was already the possessive type and the last thing she wanted to do was plant a seed of doubt in his head. It would make him resent hisoka, but maybe that could benefit her...? No, that would be manipulative and she wasn't manipulate...at least not anymore. Not with him. She laid a few more light kisses on his lips then turned back around.

"aren't you going to get up now?", he said nudging her

"no way! i'm staying in bed all day"

illumi groaned and pouted. He wasn't the type to stay in all day being lazy and he hardly ever slept. She smirked and pushed her body up against illumi's chest. She knew he wasn't exactly happy about her plan for the day but he would give in to her wishes like always. she curled up into a ball and he put her arms around her. It made her feel small and delicate like a flower, like she could almost be vulnerable and let her guard down. This was a rare feeling in her life. She always wanted to to be as close to him as possible. He had the softest skin and slender muscles that she loved to feel wrapped around her. He also had the most addictive body scent. In all honesty, illumi completely flooded her senses and took over all of her thoughts. She was always at peace when she was being intimate with him, it all just felt so right. She felt like this was home, illumi was her home. Of course she would never admit any of this to him but she was sure he already knew.

After a few moments, she was sound asleep and illumi wouldn't dare move. He knew she always slept best in his arms and he had already been away for a little more than a week now. He had been on a business trip. Well...business trip was the most pleasant way of phrasing it. He knew that she had killed many people and it wasn't anything that made her uncomfortable but he hated the fact that she knew of such dark things. He wished he could protect her from all of it. As he watched her sleep, he thought about his feelings for her. His all-consuming love for her. He spent every minute of the day with her on his mind; he even made himself sick worrying about her when she wasn't around. Illumi knew she was more than capable of taking care of herself, but that still didn't stop him from worrying. He wanted to spend every day watching over her. He desperately wished he could make every decision for her and control her every move. That would be the only way he could possibly ensure her safety and stop feeling so anxious. Unfortunately, that wasn't possible considering the way she reacted when he simply asked to put a tracking device on her. She was furious and he couldn't comprehend why, they had a fight that dragged on for days until he finally apologized.

Illumi was trying to be less controlling because it wasn't good for their relationship but he couldn't help himself. It was the only way he knew how to express his love. He wanted to spend the rest of his life with her and he hoped she felt the same. This was the first time illumi had felt something so intense for someone...more like the first time he had ever really felt something. She was the light in his life and there was no way he could let her go, he had already spent his life living in darkness and he refused to go back. he was planning on asking for her hand in marriage soon and he would take her to his family home. She would be much safer there, but ultimately it was up to her whether she wants to move or not. Illumi hoped she would make the right decision on her own, but if she didn't he'd simply have to make it for her.

The door opened flooding the room with light and a head popped in. Both illumi and the girl shot up on high alert to face the threat.

"ohhhh what do we have here? hehe Ilu you never told me you were such a ladies man", the man said in a teasing manner

"hisoka get out!! i'm trying to get some rest"

"oh yes, i completely forgot i had made the arrangement to meet with you today. You needed my help with a task?" Illumi slightly tilted his head to side in a curious manner

"you forgot..? oh i see. obviously your plaything has been keeping your mind occupied" hisoka smirked. He laid his mischievous yellow eyes on the girl and she began to realize just how exposed she was

"oh i'm sorry did you not hear me? i sAID GET THE FUCK OUT HISOKA!!! AND YOU TOO ILLUMI" the girl's aura flared and the men knew she was serious and hurried out before she decided to attack.

She had met hisoka a few years earlier in her arena fighting days, but they never really got along well. He always managed to push her buttons and get on her nerves. Back then she had only gone to fight to earn a little extra pocket change and cure her extreme case of boredom and emptiness. At that point in her life wandering aimlessly looking for anything that would satisfy her and make her forget, it didn't matter where her search took her. She was already skilled at nen and was proficient in each category; this allowed her to make it to floor 200 pretty easily. That's where she met the stupid, devious clown. She would never admit it but her battles with him taught her a lot and were extremely beneficial. She was able to improve her nen and find her speciality as a conjurer. The girl is able to conjure up a red dragon made of nen that can be used as a vicious offense and an effective defense. She named it "Shini" as a reference to the god of death which proved to be a very fitting name.

She was a little angry at illumi for not backing her up and making hisoka leave the room but she knew hisoka was a good friend of ilu's even though he often denied having friends because "assassins have no use for friends". last time she checked assassins don't have any use for girlfriends either but here we are. She began to wonder what hisoka could possibly need Ilu for and why he failed to mention it to her. It seemed like her plan of keeping him in bed with her all day had already been foiled and her curiosity kept her up anyway so she wondered if she could go along with them. As if he read her mind hisoka opened the door

"you know...we might really benefit from your help"

Almost faster than he could react she grabbed one of illumi's pins on the bedside table and threw it directly at his head. Hisoka closed the door just in time and it barely missed him.

"I'll be ready in a minute", she sighed

Her lazy day with Ilu was just going to have to wait.

#hunter x hunter #hunter x hunter x reader #hxh illumi #illumi #illumi x reader #hunter x hunter fanfiction #hxh #hxh headcanons #fluff #hunter x hunter fluff #hisoka #hisoka x reader #illumi x oc #hunter x hunter oc

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draganasimpsforjeff · 3 years ago

Text

Hunting Dogs: Chapter Eight (proxies x reader)

Masky has had these goddamn seizures for as long as he could remember, they started out when he was just a child, "Absence Seizures" is what they have been called and his mother...well..he doesn't remember her at all but he had a feeling that she thought he was going to grow out of it. He didn't know if it was genetic or not as he has no memory of his father, his mother didn't carry the possibility of the disorder, but no they didn't get better.

They were managed by medications, but managed does not always mean that is works or it is a cure. There's times he doesn't get seizures for a few days and other at least once or twice a day, with or without medication. The disorder got worse as he grew up and around the time that Brian became Hoodie, he had already developed the stage of "Tonic and Atonic" seizures, these caused him to fall and his arms mostly to stiffen while his body was on the ground, everything feeling heavy and out of his control.

There was and still is so much he cannot do without thinking about what could cause a trigger; watching t.v, the pictures flashing, strobe lights, the heat, stress, overdosing, diet changes, lack of sleep and medications that are meant to 'help' can trigger them too.

So, yeah most of his life is would be 'boring' to people who didn't have to worry about these things, they could do whatever the hell they want or go wherever within their comfort-ability, but to hell with them. He was done with entertaining others just so he could fit in. Even before he got promoted as a proxy, he always felt like he had to wear a mask to hide who he truly was, making friends wasn't easy and neither was keeping jobs or returning to appointments. Fuck, there were many times he forgot to take his medications too. But that was mostly amnesia on some events and other times; his will power just draining.

Maybe that was why it was easy for Brian to become friends with Alex and some people around campus. Sure, he was a nervous, quiet kid, but it was like his awkwardness was able to carry him in some ways to having people like him...or maybe it was the nervousness people saw that made him think he could be easy to fool, but no, it was just anxiety. He was a bright kid along with Tim...they just got dealt the wrong cards.

Many times they still hold conversations of Brian becoming a psychiatrist or something along those means and Tim would visit him, either as a joke or for serious business. But, even now it was like that even without the certification. And Tim...well he didn't know where he was heading anyways. He wrote lyrics and poems and also likes playing music, but those were the types of hobbies that you would have to get lucky in life to even get noticed. So, he got stuck with mundane jobs that paid his bills, but never the passion he had.

Hoodie still thinks that's why Masky is so bitter. The passion he had turned into anger..which is still passion but only darker and heavier. It got the job done, but what it did to him afterwards...Hoodie knew better than just to leave him alone. Even if Masky was blaming Hoodie or wanted him gone.

"So, what's with all the pill bottles, you an addict?" Brian had a playful smile on his face as it was the first time Tim had invited him over at his new apartment. Tim shakes his head, "No, they're just my seizure medications and anxiety ones as well. My body and brain does depend on it...so I guess?" he chuckles, rubbing the back of his neck nervously.

"Well, as long as you don't overdose. Now, c'mon, let's order some pizza." Brian motions Tim out of his room and back down the hall, "It's on me! This calls for a celebration!"

Tim chuckles, shaking his head at his friends' words and follows him down the hall, flicking the light switch so they could see better but looks away so his eyes could adjust and goes into the kitchen/ living room. It was connected which was nice since he could watch the t.v from the kitchen while he was cooking if he felt safe enough to do it without any triggers or he could still hold a conversation with someone without leaving ones' sight.

"You sure, I mean...you have your own bills to pay..and it's not that big of a deal...I'm 22...and finally got my own place." he shrugs. It was a big deal to him, but he hated when people felt the need to pay for him since it makes him uncomfortable even if it's just a small thing. Brian waves it off and picks up his phone, "Well, I wanted pizza anyways and don't worry about me-"

"I'm your friend."

"Not my accountant...or landlord for that matter...so shut up and let me order the pizza. What do you want?" He asks, pressing the phone to his ear, "Pineapple and ham, please." Tim answers, going to the kitchen to see if he had any soft drinks he could offer, "And maybe some sodas as well." Brian nods at Tim, before speaking to the person on the phone and ordering his own pizza as well. The call ended a moment later and Brian plops down onto Tim's couch, taking up all the space and stares up at the ceiling.

He needed time like this with his friend anyways, between classes, studying, home life, dating life, and trying to decide if he should audition for this student film someone in one of his classes was planning on filming. He heard it was going to be low budget and he was able to get a few details out of it, but didn't know if he would have time.

Maybe Tim would like to come along. He needs to get out more and who knows, maybe this could be good for him? Give him some confidence and have some fun! Yeah, and they were going to do it together as friends, so what could go wrong?

"Did they say when it was gonna be here?" He asks, going over to the sink to wash a few dishes they would need. "Yeah, like 30 minutes. Hey do you have any Parmesan? I like it on my pizza." he chuckles as he sits up, watching Tim as he rinses off a plate. "I think so. I had pasta the other night so there should be some in the fridge. You can check if you want." Tim said, nodding over to the fridge next to him, almost finishing with the dishes.

Brian pushes himself up from the couch, circling around the edge and into the kitchen area. He opens the fridge and grins, "Cool beans." he says and shuts the door. He leans against the counter and crosses his arms, looking over at Tim. "So, I got a question."

"I have an answer." Tim chuckles, drying off his hands and turning off the faucet. "There's this kid in one of my classes named, Alex, he's gonna be filming a low budget like project and there's characters and stuff like that involved. I was thinking of going over to the room at our campus tomorrow to...maybe audition...but would you maybe come along with me?" He asks, his face souring up as he didn't know how Tim was going to take it as he had watched his body tense up, before throwing the hand towel onto the counter next to him.

Tim sighs, looking over at Brian. "I don't think I could...I mean...I don't know this guy and I wouldn't be very good at whatever it is you want me to participate in." Brian shrugs, "It's just for fun. It's not definite. So no worries...let's just eat our pizza and chill out, yeah? Maybe catch up since we've both been busy." Brian suggests, trying to come up with alternative activities to do to hopefully ease Tim's anxiety.

"Sure, uh, sounds good."

"Cool." Brian smiles and gives a playful punch to Tim's shoulder, which he returned and joins him back onto the couch, only for the bell to ring. "I'll get it!" Brian springs up almost immediately, nearly kicking Tim with his leg as he stumbled over to the door to pay the delivery guy.

#Hunting Dogs #HuntingDogs #proxies x reader #creepypasta x reader #creepypasta headcanon

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