#I used to think “why are you acting like a victim you got exactly what you wanted” came up a lot with the whole paul/john relationship

[good-to-drive]

There's something very monkey's paw about Paul trying to provoke John into some kind of mild, deniable reaction just to get a little attention and instead getting the harshest diss track he's ever heard with like half their mutual friends tacitly endorsing it, and also in John playing Paul's action-reaction game like he's in it to win it and ending up looking like some petty instigator Paul had rightfully washed his hands of. With very few tweaks that story could be on the alfred hitchock hour and I would probably think it was incredible.

[starkeyisthelastname]

How would reader react when pornstar!rafe comes over to her place after filming a scene with someone else ?

just know pornstar!rafe is a pussy destroyer 😰

It was the text you got, reading ‘Can’t, I’m busy.’ Followed by, ‘Filming a scene today.’ That left you feeling some type of way and you weren’t sure why. Okay, maybe you knew exactly why and that was the more dick he gave you, the more you wanted him. You were both pornstars though, and his job was to fuck women on camera and get paid for it. You couldn’t be jealous. It was inevitable that he would have to film.

As the day went on, you couldn’t stop thinking about Rafe. Some other female pornstar was getting her guts fucked out by him right now, and you weren’t the one getting to experience it. This man had a chokehold on you and you were becoming addicted to the way he made you feel. He was raw, confident, dirty, and didn’t give a fuck about what anyone else said or thought.

You hadn’t even realized you had fallen asleep as you were startled out of a dream by a pounding on your door. You rubbed your eyes, making your way down the hall and towards the front. You should have looked through the peephole, hell it could have been someone trying to break in, but you opened it anyway against your better judgement. It was Rafe’s massive self storming in that had you fully waking up to realize what was going on.

“Can’t answer a fuckin phone?” He asked, blue eyes peering at you almost predatory as he stalked closer.

“I fell asleep, and why do you even care? You were busy.” You said, evident jealousy dripping from your tongue. You crossed your arms, a challenging sparkle in your pretty eyes as he stared at you for moment. He chuckled, his intimidating height towering over you as he stepped closer.

“Why are you acting jealous for, huh? Gettin too damn attached to this dick, aren’t ya?” He spoke low, large hand coming up to grab your throat. His mustache tickled your lips as he leaned down to look in your eyes. “I like money too much to stop fuckin, pretty girl. You remember what, I said though?” He asked, squeezing your neck harder.

Your eyes couldn’t help but roll back as you were a freak off pain. He pulled away from your face, his lips ghosting over toward your ear as he began to speak. “You are my own personal whore now, yeah? So when I call, you answer the fuckin phone the first time.” He spat harshly in your ear.

You weren’t sure what this weird fucked up situation was that you two were in, but you knew you loved every second of it. He was fucking your life all the way up, his hands digging into your scalp to use your hair as reins as he brutally pounded into your sopping hole.

“Take that shit up your fuckin cunt.” Rafe grunted, toned hips moving at a rapid pace as his thick cock stretched your poor hole out. Your legs were bent back, knees touching your chest as he railed you into oblivion on your own couch.

You were crying from the sheer roughness and pleasure that he was giving to you. A babbling mess, as you fell victim to his nasty ways once again. You were getting too attached to his dick, but what did he expect when he fucked you the way he did. You were soaking his cock, his fat length sliding in and out your messy cunt as he drilled into you.

His body leaned down, his hand yanking your head back roughly so that you were forced to look at him. “This is my fuckin pussy to ruin. You understand that?” He asked, his stache tickling your lips as he tightened the grip on your hair. “You better fuckin answer me when I’m talking to you.”

You let out a gasp, wincing at the burn to your scalp as you were forced to look into darkened blue irises and answer him. “Yes Rafe… a-all yours!” You cried out, earning a vicious laugh from him as he straightened his massive stance back out. He was just as addicted to you and knew you were about to fuck his life all the way up. Just in a completely different kinda way he hadn’t experienced before.

[solxamber]

Match Made in Madness - Floyd Leech x reader

Soulmates get updates of each other's lives through an overly enthusiastic dream narrator. What's worse is that your soulmate seems to be completely unhinged.

It all starts on another one of those nights—the weird dream where your soulmate’s day is narrated to you in the most ridiculous fashion imaginable. No names, no faces, just an over-the-top, enthusiastic narrator who acts like they’re introducing a daytime soap.

"Good evening, soulmate! Ready for another wild day? Well, buckle up, because your beloved got into a fight with a vending machine!"

You groan in your sleep, already bracing for what’s next. The narrator continues with gleeful energy:

"After losing said battle, your soulmate kicked the machine and declared, ‘I’ll have the last laugh, metal box!’ Later in the day, they spent 45 minutes trying to convince a bird to become their personal spy. Spoiler alert: the bird didn’t agree, but they’re not giving up anytime soon!"

When you wake up, you rub your eyes and mutter, "What the hell is my soulmate doing?" Clearly, the universe decided to match you with an absolute madman, and you’re starting to wonder if you’ll even survive meeting them.

The dreams continue for weeks, and the updates get progressively weirder. Whoever this person is, they have the chaotic energy of a tornado in a convenience store. One night, you get this gem:

"Exciting news! Today, your soulmate tried to see if they could juggle three eels at once. Spoiler: they couldn’t, but they did manage to send one flying into a professor’s lunch. Next on the agenda, they challenged the ocean to a race. The ocean won."

You’re so used to these bizarre updates by now that you don’t even flinch. Instead, you’re beginning to wonder why the universe thinks it’s funny to torture you with someone who clearly doesn’t have a firm grasp on reality.

And then one night, the narrator drops a bombshell:

"Your soulmate spent the entire afternoon wondering if there’s any way they could convince their twin brother to switch places with them on a date— Oh wait, forget I said that! That one’s classified!*"

What? Now, you’re officially on edge. Not only do they have a twin, but they’ve been thinking about dating? This is spiraling out of control.

You’re sitting at the Mostro Lounge, thinking about the increasingly unhinged dreams when you spot Floyd Leech across the room. Normally, you’d ignore him because, well, Floyd has a reputation, and it’s not exactly “outstanding member of society.”

But today, something feels off. You’ve heard a few things—people say he’s chaotic, unpredictable, and obsessed with “playing” with his victims. And suddenly, you can’t stop thinking about the dream where your soulmate tried to juggle eels.

Floyd catches your eye, and before you can look away, he’s making a beeline for your table. Oh no. Please no.

“Hey, Shrimpy,” he says with his usual, lazy grin, flopping down in the seat next to you like he owns the place. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

Close enough.

You swallow hard. “Uh… just thinking.”

“Thinking, huh?” Floyd leans in, uncomfortably close. “What about?”

How are you supposed to say, I think you’re my soulmate, but I’m also convinced you’re a lunatic? Instead, you nervously laugh. “Oh, nothing. Just… dreams.”

“Dreams, huh?” Floyd’s eyes narrow, but he looks more interested than suspicious. “Like… those ones where some random guy is juggling eels?”

Your blood runs cold.

“Wait—how did you know about the eels?”

Floyd’s grin widens. “Oh? So it is you! I knew it!” He laughs, leaning back with a satisfied look, like he’s just solved the greatest mystery of his life. “Shrimpy, you’re hilarious! I’ve been having those dreams about you, too. You’re always doing weird stuff, like… rescuing ducks or tripping over your own feet.”

Your heart races. “Wait, so—you're my soulmate?”

“Duh,” Floyd says, rolling his eyes like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “The universe has a sense of humor, doesn’t it?”

At first, you’re convinced this is a prank, a cruel joke. But the more you talk to Floyd, the more everything starts to click into place. He’s chaotic, sure. Completely unpredictable? Absolutely. But he’s also the same person who, according to your dreams, once wondered if seaweed could be used as a fashion statement. He’s also the guy who—oh right—challenged the ocean to a race.

And now that you’ve met him, you realize one important detail: he’s perfect.

Well, perfect in the most unhinged way possible.

A week later, you find yourself in an increasingly ridiculous situation—Floyd has somehow convinced you to help him “steal” a giant fish from the campus pond.

“Why are we doing this again?” you ask, holding the bucket as he dives headfirst into the water.

“Because,” Floyd says between splashes, “the fish looks like he’s having a bad day, so we’re gonna give him a makeover.”

You stare blankly at the pond. “You want to makeover a fish.”

Floyd pops back up, water dripping from his hair, with a grin that could melt glaciers. “Yeah! Why not?”

You don’t have a good answer for that, so you just shrug. This is my life now.

That night, you’re lying in bed, starting to doze off, when the dream narrator pops up again:

"Good evening, soulmate! Today, your other half tried to give a fish a new look. It didn’t work, but they still had fun! Also, they’ve been thinking about holding your hand."

You wake up with a groan, rubbing your face in disbelief. Of course, Floyd would think about something like that in the middle of a fish-stealing escapade. But there’s something undeniably sweet about it, too.

The next day, Floyd grabs your hand without warning as you’re walking through campus. “I had a dream about this,” he says casually, like it’s the most normal thing in the world.

You smile, squeezing his hand back. “So did I.”

Maybe the universe isn’t such a prankster after all.

Masterlist

[deakyjoe]

Every Breath You Take

Pairing: Michael Myers x Reader (afab but no pronouns used I don’t think)

Category: stalker romance (??), smut (!!)

Summary: It shouldn’t exhilarate you so much knowing a serial killer was stalking you. But you just can’t help yourself.

Warnings: 18+ only, smut, unprotected p in v sex (wrap it before you tap it), vaginal fingering, dry humping, biting, licking, creampie, overstimulation, motorboating, pain as pleasure, slight voyeurism/exhibitionism, choking, scent kink, multiple orgasms, nipple play, over the clothes handjob, under the clothes handjob, slight dubcon (only because Michael doesn’t talk but I tried to make it as clear as possible that they just want to fuck each other), stalking, mentions of injuries and blood, mentions of murder, breaking and entering, morally questionable reader, mask is on and off, lights stay off during sex, virgin Michael, a little dark I guess (??)

Word count: 6.4k

A/N: For those who love masked men (aka me). For those who want to fuck slashers (aka me). For those who love the quiet type (aka me). For those who love a tall man (aka me). For those who love a strong man (aka me). I wrote this for me basically. I don’t think there’s much of an audience for Michael Myers fics within my followers but hopefully it reaches the right side of Tumblr :)

Consider buying me a coffee :)

It was probably disgusting how much it excited you knowing he watched you every day.

He'd stand in your back yard each night, totally still, and just look through your windows for hours. And then, when he was satisfied you assumed, he'd leave. But he always came right back the next day at the same time.

When you'd first noticed him, you'd been terrified. Naturally. You knew exactly who he was, you watched the news and heard stories. And the white mask and blue coveralls were unmistakable. You'd seen him through your window and locked all of the doors immediately. Then you waited. Patiently.

You didn't know what you were waiting for. Him to kill you... or to defend yourself. Your chances of survival were slim, he was inhumanly strong from what you'd heard. But you clutched a knife in your hand nonetheless, mirroring him in a strange way, in case you did suddenly have to fight him off.

Luckily, it never came down to that dilemma as he left a couple of hours later without even a step closer to your back door. You blinked and he was gone.

He came back the next night and did the same thing. And then the next night. And the next. And the next. Until it became a ritual.

You went about your evening and he watched. You always wondered whether he watched you during the day as well but you'd never noticed him. You also wondered what it was about you that didn't make him murder you straight away.

You were older than his usual victims, sure. And he supposedly liked to commit most of his crimes whilst his victims were in the middle of sexual acts and you didn't tend to have many visitors over. But then what was making him fixate on you?

You just couldn't figure it out.

It got to a point where you were less scared of him and more intrigued. Having him stand and stare was getting boring, you wanted to know why. No. You craved knowing why. But you couldn't ask him. You'd heard he wasn't fond of talking.

So what were you supposed to do? Just let it carry on? That was your only choice.

But things changed one evening.

When he appeared something didn't seem quite right. For one, he was seven minutes later than usual. And his left shoulder slumped forward with all of his weight placed onto his right leg.

He was injured.

And you couldn't help but feel bad for him.

So, like an insane person, you unlocked your door and opened it for him.

As you stood in the doorway staring at him, you noticed him straighten up. As if he were surprised. But you knew the man didn't show emotions, much less any that would display him being caught off guard in any way. So you put it down as your imagination or a trick of the moonlight.

But you left your door open. An invitation. Like he needed one of those.

He didn't move so you left the doorway and went to retrieve your first aid kit from the cabinet above the sink. And by the time you'd found it and turned back around, Michael Myers was standing about a foot into your kitchen.

You stared at him for a second, unsure of the emotions turning in your stomach. "Close the door. It's cold outside."

You really didn't know if you could afford to be giving him orders but considering he hadn't murdered you in the months he'd been watching you, you thought that you were probably safe until you'd at least bandaged up whatever wounds hid beneath the blue jumpsuit.

Not sticking around to see if he did it, you walked to your lounge and put a lamp on. His footsteps were silent so you kept an eye on the archway where he'd emerge from the kitchen. Which he did a few seconds later.

"Sit on the couch."

Surprisingly, he did as he was told. But you thought you might be pushing your luck so you stopped telling him to do things.

As he sat down, not relaxed in the slightest with the best posture you'd ever seen, you realised that getting a wounded man to sit on your nice furniture was probably a bad idea. What if he got blood everywhere? Too late now. You weren't going to ask him to move.

You moved towards him slowly, trying not to spook him. He still had a knife clutched in his hand after all. It was bloodstained. You ignored it.

Michael watched you closely, his head didn't move but you could feel his gaze through the dark eyeholes of the mask. It didn't escape your notice that he was still extremely tall even when sat down.

"What's hurt?"

It was a stupid question, you could see where blood was seeping through his clothes and the slashes in the fabric was clear. But given your very recent history of poor choices, an obvious question seemed like the least of your worries.

He didn't respond anyway. No finger point, no head tilt, no shrug. Not a single inch of his body moved apart from his chest from his breathing. If you couldn't see his inhales and exhales then you'd think he was some sort of dummy or mannequin.

"Have you got a shirt on underneath the jumpsuit?"

Why were you still asking questions?

He still said nothing, which you expected, but he did raise a hand to pop the first couple buttons open to reveal a grey t-shirt under the blue coveralls.

You sighed and nodded. "Um, you're going to need to- to undo a few more buttons. So I can get to your shoulder."

The blood stain was getting bigger and staining his clothes a deep purple.

He tilted his head to the side at you, the most emotion he'd shown so far. But he did as he was told again and then pushed the suit down his arms so it lowered to his waist. You didn't fail to notice how the grey t-shirt clung to him nicely, maybe a size or two too small, and displayed every inch of rippling muscle that covered him. Explained his inhuman strength.

You took a few supplies from the kit and started cleaning up the injury on his shoulder, careful to avoid staring at how his sleeve stretched against his bicep.

When you noticed him staring at you from the corner of your eye, you cleared your throat and pulled away again to distract yourself with looking for other injuries. Which was a fine idea until you realised that blood was dripping from beneath the rubber that adorned his face.

You went to lift the edge of the mask, no intention of taking it off, but his large hands gripped your wrists before you even had the chance. The knife was suddenly forgotten on the cushion of the couch.

You gasped in pain, his hold was tight, but didn't pull away. Trying your hardest to meet his eyes as best you could, you attempted to explain. "I'm not going to take it off but I need to get to your neck. You're bleeding. Lift the mask to your chin and hold it there so I can clean your neck."

There were a few tense moments of heavy breathing from him before he let go and did as you said. He was too agreeable, very out of character from all of the stories you'd heard about him. Were people wrong? Or was he acting differently than usual? How were you supposed to know?

You shook the thoughts from your head and got on with cleaning him up. You couldn't find the source of the blood so assumed it must've been coming from higher up on his face. But you weren't going to ask him to lift the mask anymore. You were a risk taker, if the night was any indication of that, but you didn't have a death wish. Mostly.

"Done." You mumbled and stepped back a few paces, looking down to clean away all of your supplies.

By the time you looked up he was standing again fully clothed.

"You going to kill me now finally?" There was a hint of laughter in your voice. If he did you wouldn't blame him. You probably deserved it after inviting a serial killer into your home and treating him like his own personal nurse.

He didn't respond, just turned and left the room. And by the time you got to the kitchen to follow him out, he was gone and the back door was shut and locked like he'd never even been there.

"See you tomorrow night then." You grumbled to yourself, assuming he'd return as he usually did.

And he did.

Uninjured this time. To your relief and, honestly, slight disappointment. There was really something very wrong with you.

But the routine returned to normal. Michael Myers would appear in your back yard every night at the same time and watch you for hours with no sign of even attempting to enter your house to murder you. And he'd leave when he was done watching whatever he sought out from you.

The initial thrill you'd had knowing he liked watching you had disappeared quickly after you'd realised there was less danger than you'd expected. And the fact that you could get so much closer to him was more exciting than anything else.

The idea of him being inside your house again played on your mind constantly, rolling around in there as regularly as a forbidden fantasy. And maybe it was. But surely you weren't fantasising about Michael Myers... right?

Perhaps the memory of his muscles and his height, just his sheer size even, plagued your brain way more often than was considered normal. The thought that he could probably just snap you in two with his large hands and impossible strength if he chose to, how easy it would be for him to break in and end your life on his will. But he chose not to.

That set your nerves alight.

So you turned your nights into a staring contest.

He'd stand in your back yard and stare into your window. You'd stand in your kitchen and stare out of your window.

And you slowly got more daring. You began to retire to bed earlier, going upstairs to your bedroom and changing right in his direct view. It was one of the few times he moved, tilting his head up slightly to see you better through the mask.

You didn't give him a full show, knowing it probably wasn't what he wanted. He liked to kill "promiscuous" people after all. But it was enough to give him an idea, a way to tease him. It was entertaining for you at least, even if he wasn't bothered.

But then one night when you noticed that he was a few feet closer to your house, you realised it was probably working.

He was tempted.

Whether it was to kill you or to do something else, you weren't sure. But you were exhilarated either way.

When he returned obviously injured again a few nights later, you sighed to yourself in annoyance. Yes, you were excited he'd be in your house again. But out of need, not want. You still unlocked your door and left it open for him as you waited in the lounge nevertheless.

When he emerged from the dark archway between your kitchen and your lounge, you looked him up and down. His stance was better than last time but he was covered in more blood. You deduced that it probably wasn't his.

"Sit." You whispered hoarsely. "Please."

Like manners were going to affect whether he killed you or not.

It went pretty much the same as the time before, cleaning the blood from him as best you could and bandaging up what was easy to access. He didn't flinch or wince, not even at the stuff that made your toes curl just from touching.

It wasn't until you were just finishing off spreading some antibacterial lotion on a gash on his thigh that you noticed he was breathing heavier than usual. You looked up at him and frowned, confused. But when he gave you no indication as to why he was suddenly almost hyperventilating, you shrugged it off and reached for a band-aid. As you glanced towards the wound to get an idea of the size you'd need for it, you realised what was wrong.

"Oh."

He was hard.

"Oh."

The prominent bulge in his crotch wasn't shy in showing you that it was there. He was big, to say at the very least.

Your mouth opened and closed a couple of times before you settled on a reassurance. "It's okay. This happens. Especially when someone is touching you a lot."

You figured this was the most he'd been touched in over a decade.

"I'll just uh..." You stood up to step away from him but he launched his arm forward to grab you by the wrist, not letting you go any further.

"Michael..."

He answered you by tugging your body into his lap, legs straddling either side of his thighs. You made sure not to settle your weight onto him, very conscious of what that could lead to.

But he had other ideas.

He planted both of his large hands on either side of your waist and pushed you to sit fully against him. And there was a lot to sit against.

You bit your tongue to prevent any noise coming out. What now? What did he expect?

His breathing was shaky as he surveyed you through the small eyeholes of his mask, hands hovering over your sides for a second.

You couldn't deny that this position, this close proximity, was turning you on. Especially feeling how hard he was pushed up against you.

He seemed to decide what he wanted to do next as his fists gripped the fabric of your pyjama shirt, suddenly tearing it open so buttons flew everywhere and then ripping it off of you and tossing it to a darkened corner of the room. His hands didn't hesitate it exploring the new uncovered areas of skin, his rough callouses against your soft flesh. He was clearly enjoying this new adventure as he appeared to grow impossibly harder beneath you. Lots of him was impossible.

The clasp he had on your breasts was almost painful but your eyes rolled back in pleasure nevertheless. You liked that he was manhandling you, the strength you'd been fantasising about since day one finally being used on you.

His hands slid down your sides until they met your hips, fingers digging in and pulling them against his. A choked moan escaped your mouth drowning out the sound of his own grunt. When Michael decided that he seemed to like that, he did it again. Rougher this time. And quicker. Then he set a pace doing it over and over again. Your hands flew to his shoulders to give yourself something to hold onto, some grounding. Because this was more than you could handle.

How could something so simple feel so good?

The feeling of his coveralls rubbing against you through the thin material of your sleep shorts was heavenly. That, mixed with his hardness pushing against you in all the right place meant you were in pure ecstasy.

The uncontrollable noises leaving you would've been embarrassing if it weren't for the fact that this was the best you'd ever felt. And you hadn't even had sex. Yet.

Barely a sound left Michael, just the occasional short groan to go along with his heavy breathing.

You couldn't quite tell where he was looking until his head suddenly snapped down and his eyes clearly fixated on where your breasts were bouncing with the rapid movement of the two of you rocking against each other. A slightly louder noise left him then.

There was no rest for you, even if your legs did grow tired and you ran out of breath because he wouldn't let you stop moving. You knew you were probably creating a wet patch on his clothes and that would only grow bigger when he finally came. You were surprised he was lasting this long to be honest. For someone who had been locked up most of his life and hadn't had any sexual experience, he had some stamina in him. But maybe he wasn't a virgin. Was your assumption wrong?

You didn't get time to dwell on it as his arm suddenly locked around your waist and he stopped the two of you. Looking down at him, he was almost the perfect picture of composure. Just some heavy breathing indicated what the two of you had been up to. You couldn't imagine you looked quite as calm.

The arm around you stiffened as he titled the two of you to the side.

"What are you doi- woah." The room was plunged into darkness as he switched the lamp off and then pulled you tight against him again. "Why did you- oh."

Your unfinished question was answered with the sound of rubber hitting the floor penetrating your ears and the feeling of Michael's breath against your skin. You didn't get the chance to question him further as to why he did that as he immediately buried his face in the valley of your breasts and rocked your hips against his to get the friction going again, his free hand rubbing up and down your thigh as the two of you moved.

You bit your bottom lip, extremely happy that he hadn't decided to just stop and leave, that this was still going. The happiness only extended when he licked a drop of sweat off of your skin and you almost screamed. But you couldn't imagine if was the kind of screaming he was used to so you bit your tongue.

Trying to adjust to the sudden absence of light by blinking, but having little success, you looked down to where you imagined Michael's head would be. You saw nothing. Naturally, the only solution to that was to move your hands up his shoulders, up his neck and into his hair. As you curled your fingers into the locks, you were pleasantly surprised to find how soft it was.

You would've smiled or giggled to yourself if he hadn't chosen that exact moment to bite into your collarbone and thrust up underneath you. Your response of tugging on his hair seemed to go down well as he did it again.

"Fuck." You whined against the top of his head, eyes scrunching shut.

That caught Michael's attention, his head pulling back and his free hand abandoning your thigh to wrap around the front of your neck, squeezing slightly when situated there.

You knew what he was doing. Mixing what he usually found pleasurable with this new experience. You wondered whether it was getting him off even more. If the way he was practically throbbing beneath you was any indication, then yes.

This added element of danger sent a shiver down your spine and an intense pulse to your core, making you rock against him without any prompting from him at all. You could still breathe but you knew he could stop that at any second if he chose to.

A breathless moan rumbled from the back of your throat as he squeezed your neck tighter, the arm locked around your waist pushing you against him even harder.

You were so close. So, so close. You chased your high like it was running away from you, rubbing yourself against him as roughly as you could. But there was no need.

Because when Michael leaned forward again to lick a long strip up from your left breast to your neck and then bit you, hard, it was like you saw the pearly gates of heaven. Or the fiery descent to hell.

Your orgasm crashed over you in hot waves as you collapsed against him, forcing his body to hit the back of the couch as your forehead met his and you gasped into his mouth, lips almost grazing but not quite meeting. Your grasp on his hair was tight, tugging on the roots like they were your lifeline. Your naked chest pressed against his clothed one, and that combined with the slight pain of the hair pulling was enough for Michael to come underneath you.

You could feel him twitching against you, only making you shudder against him more, as the wet patch on his jumpsuit grew as you predicted. The quietest extended groan left his mouth as he tensed beneath you, arms locking around you. His hips bucked up against yours a few times weakly before he grew limp.

You rested for a moment, trying to gain some strength back in your shaking legs, before you pushed off of him and stood up. Feeling around in the air for the lamp, you covered your eyes before switching it back on.

"Find your mask and put it back on." You instructed, waiting a moment for him to do so.

He didn't make any noise as he moved, as usual, and the only indication you had that he was done was the looming feeling of his presence in front of you and the sound of his exhales rattling the rubber that adorned him.

You uncovered your eyes and squinted against the sudden light, looking up to find Michael almost chest to chest with you. Well, head to chest. He was very tall after all.

Your gaze flickered down to his left hand which was slightly extended towards you. He was holding your pyjama shirt. The one he'd ruined by ripping all of the buttons off.

"Oh, thanks." You took it from him and put it back on, holding it together at the front by crossing your arms against your chest.

Probably a bad idea considering this position made the top gape open and your breasts push together to create an exaggerated cleavage. Michael didn't seem to mind as he lifted his right hand and traced a finger across the swell of your breasts for a moment before dropping his arm back to his side again.

You dropped your eyes away in embarrassment, and slight arousal, and noticed the mess the two of you had made on his blue jumpsuit.

"You're gonna want to wash that." You said, meekly gesturing towards it. You couldn't deny that seeing the stains that you'd made together was making your skin feel hot again.

He didn't even look to see what you were talking about, just continued to stare at you through his mask.

You tried to come up with something to say but nothing sprung to mind. What were you supposed to say to a serial killer that you'd just dry humped and orgasmed on top of?

It seemed like you didn't need to come up with a one-sided conversation starter though as he suddenly turned on his heel and left the room. You hesitated before following him. Stupid really since you couldn't even keep up with him at the best of times, especially not now on weak legs.

And, as usual, by the time you'd reached the kitchen he was gone and the door was locked.

He continued to return every night as normal but didn't enter your house again. No injuries seemed to be inflicted upon him for a while. You were beginning to get bored. Sighing every time he left with no hint of coming inside again.

Which is why a few days later you were very shocked by his out of character behaviour.

You woke up cold, your blankets stripped from your bed and the feeling of someone watching you sinking a chilling freeze into your bones. It was soon clear why you felt that way.

His silhouette was partially outlined by the moonlight coming through your bedroom window as he stood over you.

You shot up in bed, giving yourself a head rush. "Michael, what the fu-" You were cut off as he grasped the hand that was reaching for your bedside lamp. "No light? Why?"

He answered your question by pressing something rubber into your palm. His mask.

"Oh. Okay..." You frowned to yourself as you dropped the mask on your nightstand. What was he expecting you to do if he was injured but you couldn't see him? "I can't clean your wounds if it's dark."

It was too dark to see his face but the natural light from outside was enough to see him shake his head no. He wasn't injured. What did he need then?

"Then what? Why are you here? At this time?" You were still slightly dazed from just waking up, trying to shake some coherent thought into your head. What was the time? He'd already been and gone earlier that evening. How had he gotten in? You were sure you'd locked the door? Maybe that made no difference?

His breathing was heavy, shoulders moving up and down with his laboured inhales and exhales.

His grip on your wrist hadn't loosened as he pulled your hand towards him, resting it on his abdomen and then slowly dragging down and down and-

"Oh."

He was hard.

Very hard.

"You want me to-"

You'd guessed by this point that he probably hated hearing you talk as he was always cutting you off. This time by pushing on your shoulders so you fell flat on your back and bounced on the mattress. And then he was on top of you in mere fractions of a second.

He was smothering.

His mere presence was enough to stop your breath in your throat and having him be this close, having all of his weight pressed against you this way, practically stole the oxygen from your bloodstream.

His breath was hot on your face, his nose barely grazing against yours before he moved to trace it along your hairline and then down your neck where he inhaled deeply, groaning lowly at your scent.

You reached up to touch him but he was too fast, clasping both of your wrists in one hand and pinning them above your head.

"This doesn't work if I can't touch you." You mumbled frustratedly, more to yourself than to him.

It wasn't strictly true but what did he know? Last time he hadn't used any real technique, just done whatever felt best for him which luckily also felt good for you. He'd used the mere skill brought to him by innate exploration. Maybe this time he'd be more purposeful with you.

Unlikely.

The statement you'd made seemed to have some sort of influence on him though as he slowly let go of your wrists and let you dig one into his hair, where you gently pulled on it, and let the other drift to undo the top buttons of his coveralls. You popped them open cautiously, one by one, until your nails stroked the material of his grey undershirt. You assumed it was grey as usual.

Your fingers wandered to the neckline where you swooped the index to get a feel of his skin. He froze above you but didn't stop you.

"I'm going to undo more. Just stop me if you want. But gently." You clarified, not wanting bruised wrists in the morning which was guaranteed if he grabbed them with his vice-like grip again.

Each button fell open easily, like they were dying to be free from their clasps, and Michael didn't stop you once. And when the last one was undone, he leant back slightly on his knees to let you push the jumpsuit down so it bunched around his waist just like the first time he'd been in your house.

You took the opportunity to let your hands roam the muscles you'd been admiring since the first time you'd seen him up close. They were solid. He was solid.

He crowded over you again, breathing getting more rapid the more you touched him. He let out a soft sound when your hands reached his crotch, palming him over his clothes.

"Take them off and I can touch you more." You offered, attempting to sound sultry but sure you just sounded desperate instead.

He hesitated but did as you said, standing up to push the jumpsuit further down his legs but still not taking it off completely. Then he was on top of you again, pushing your hand against him before you even had the chance to realise he was so close again. You squeezed him through his underwear and he bucked his hips against your palm.

You did that for a while, moving your hand up and down the outline of him through the material and ignoring the ache between your own legs. Getting him riled up was a lot of fun, especially when he let noises slip every now and again. You just wished you could see the reactions on his face. Did he bite his lip? Did he screw his eyes shut? Was his jaw dropped open? You guessed you'd never know.

While those thoughts plagued your mind, it seemed Michael had changed his. And what was happening wasn't good enough for him anymore. So he slapped your hand away suddenly. Before you could even begin to utter a sentence, he ripped your pyjama shirt open.

Great, another one ruined.

His hands shot to your chest, away from where they'd been resting either side of your head previously, and he started to knead the flesh. Your back arched, pushing your chest closer to his and making your nipples rub against the fabric of his t-shirt. Michael must've figured out that the stimulation was good based on the gasp you let out as he moved his attention to your nipples, flicking and tweaking them with his fingers.

He didn't seem hesitant at all in what he was doing but it was also clear he wasn't experienced either. There was no rhythm to his touches, he just did whatever felt right. And that worked for you.

You grew extremely wet when he started grinding himself against your core from instinct alone. You wanted more, craved more, needed more.

Your hands flew to the waistband of his underwear, tugging them down a few inches to pull him free. You knew he was big but having the real thing in your hand, no clothing barriers at all, was a whole other story.

You could hear his teeth clicking shut when you started to stroke him, skin on skin, spreading his pre-cum up and down his length.

"Fuck, Michael. Jesus." You garbled, head wild with lust and nothing else. "Need you inside me."

He stopped moving at that, hands falling away from your chest and hips no longer bucking to pump himself into your palm.

Maybe he really was clueless.

"You know? Inside me?" You reached around to find one of his hands, pushing it down the waistband of your sleep shorts until his fingers met your wetness.

He wasn't even doing anything but the sensation alone of him touching you made you shiver. That was until he seemed to understand what he was feeling. His head tilted to the side, just about visible in the moonlight, as he let his fingers explore. As he grazed your clit, you squeaked quietly. He seemed to like that so he did it a couple more times, just to illicit a reaction out of you. But he got bored quickly and kept on feeling.

When he reached the source of the wetness, he pushed a finger in. You moaned. Loudly. He liked that a lot more, so pulled out the finger and reinserted with a second one joining in. Your eyes rolled back at this. And the sounds you made reached a new decibel. Michael did the same thing again and again, pumping his fingers just to feel you clench around him.

When he eventually pulled his fingers free, you whined in protest before the sounds of him sucking the taste of you off of his skin hit you. And you decided that maybe the loss of contact was okay if that's what he was going to do instead.

When he was satisfied with that, Michael tore your shorts off of you completely and tossed them over his shoulder somewhere. Then his underwear was pushed further down and he was spreading your legs apart, as far as they would go.

Your heart rate picked up further than it was already running, probably entering dangerous territory. But you didn't care. It was finally about to happen.

Michael crawled over you, shadowed face hanging above yours. You just nodded at him, wondering whether he was able to see you do it. Either way, he seemed to get the message that you really really wanted to do this. So, with a hand on one of your thighs to hold you in place, and the other on his cock to guide him, he pushed into you.

At that moment you decided that you were definitely seeing the devil in the afterlife.

But it was worth it for this.

He stretched you open perfectly, gliding in with ease considering how wet you already were. But that was nothing in comparison to how you felt hearing him letting out what could only be described as a mixture between a whimper and a pleasured groan against your ear.

If never hearing him talk meant that the noises he let out during sex made you tingle, then you'd take his silence any day.

The hand on your thigh moved to curl your leg around his waist, changing the angle so he moved into you deeper. And the other rested against your head to keep him propped up. Yours scraped down his back in ecstasy, probably leaving nail marks along the plains of his skin. You were sure he wouldn't mind, he'd had worse injuries.

He stayed still once he'd entered you, stiff but breathing heavily.

"Move, Michael." You whispered. "Please move."

And when he pulled out and slammed back in again, you were positive you could see the grim reaper knocking at your door ready to whisk you away to the tortuous pits of hell.

All you knew is that you certainly weren't seeing heaven after this.

Michael grunted, head hanging so his soft hair tickled against your skin. But he seemed to get the idea as he pumped in and out of you at a ruthless pace. Skin slapped together, your chests rubbing against one another as you bounced up and down the surface of the bed, which shuffled along the floor with every thrust.

You'd never known sex to be so loud. Maybe you'd just never had sex as good as this. Because the roaring of blood in your ears definitely wasn't helping.

You couldn't help the sounds that were escaping your parted lips, thankful that your neighbours' houses weren't close enough to hear you. Your other leg moved to wrap around Michael's waist, tugging him closer to you and locking him in place. You need him to be as close as possible, to be as deep inside you as possible.

The hand on your thigh dug in deep, certainly leaving bruises, before trailing up the length of your body and wrapping around the front of your neck. He pushed down this time, squeezing slightly to cut off your airway just a little. It excited you more than anything and made you clench around him.

That seemed unexpected to Michael as he faltered slightly before pounding into you harder than before, having absolutely no mercy on your body. You only clenched harder.

His pattern began to fumble, thrusts become more forceful but less regular. He was getting close. And you weren't far off either. You let one of your hands fall from his back and placed it between the two of you, starting to rub your clit. He took notice of this and pushed your hand away to replace it with his own, letting oxygen rush back into your lungs again.

The head rush combined with the pressure on your clit tipped you over the edge into oblivion. You choked out a muffled scream as your orgasm ripped through your body, tears falling from the corners of your eyes.

But Michael didn't let up for a second. This just seemed to give him a new wave of energy as his pace picked up rubbing tight circles on your clit and slamming into you with no forgiveness.

You approached the edge rapidly again, the raw feeling over overstimulation pushing you closer and closer. His sweat dripped onto you, creating a sheen that let your bodies slide against each other in erotic heat. You could feel every inch of him either against you or inside of you. And that thought made you come again. This time the scream was less muffled.

The feeling of you clenching around him again like a vice had Michael finally hitting his peak too, his face buried into the crook of your neck as he pumped you full of his cum. If you weren't so spent already, that would've made for three orgasms.

He bit down on the skin of your shoulder to prevent any noises coming out too loud, but he couldn't mask all of them. He twitched inside of you as he gave a few last lazy bucks of his hips before he pulled out completely, standing up and looking down at you.

You really wondered how good his vision must be in this light for him to be able to see you. Or maybe he couldn't. Maybe he was faking it.

Either way you didn't care, too exhausted suddenly to really think about it. You began to drift to sleep, desperately trying to keep your eyes open to see what he'd do next. You vaguely remembered seeing him get dressed again. But you don't remember him leaving. Or moving you to rest your head back on your pillow. Or him pulling your blankets over you again.

Maybe he didn't do any of that. Maybe you did in your sleepy state.

It didn't matter. He was still gone before you even had the chance to register what happened.

But you were pleased when the next night, you glanced out of your kitchen window and found him stood there as usual, watching you. From now on, you were just going to leave your door unlocked to make it easier for him.

A/N: To celebrate my Halloween, I watched Halloween (1978) home alone whilst my housemates all went to a party. It inspired me to write this.

[mypoorocs]

Thinking about a first time Whumper x veteran Whumpee...

When they first meet:

"You don't seem nearly scared enough. This isn't your first time is it?" "You seem weirdly nervous. Is it yours?"

"Ugh! Out of everyone in the city I could kidnap I had to get stuck with someone else's leftovers!"

"You used to belong to so-and-so, didn't you? Ah! They're my idol! Oh! This is exciting. I get to study their masterpiece up close!"

"WHY AREN'T YOU SCARED OF ME?!!!"

"Oh. You've never done this before." "Stop judging me. I have a knife."

"How is it you know exactly what I like?" "You torturers are all the same." "You've done this before??"

"I won't kill you, but I need you to cooperate. I am new to this, just so you know." "Yup. I'm going to die."

"Mmmm, I love how you move when you're in pain." "Thanks! I've been practicing for years."

"Who taught you to scream like this?"

Whumpee helping Whumper figure out the basics:

"Why are you on your knees?" "Oh sorry. Do you not like that? The last guy liked me that way. I just assumed…" "No, no. It's a good idea. Keep doing that. I just… never thought of it."

"So, what are the rules?" "Rules?" "Yeah, dumbass. Your rules for me. Do you want me to call you sir? Master? Or can I keep calling you jackass?"

"Do you want me to put up a fight or should we skip straight to the submissive stage?" "Oh... uhhh... don't fight too much. I don't trust myself not to accidentally kill you." "Oh, yeah. Good point."

"What kind of scream do you like?" "There are kinds of screams?" "Yeah. The last guy liked it when I ugly-cried. But I'm pretty good a bloodcurdling and whimpering like a kicked puppy. I can try to stay quiet but I can't make promises there..." "Hmmm... try all of them. I'll tell you which I like best."

"You cleaned??" "Yeah? Was I not supposed to?" "I didn't know you could make captives do that?!" "For the record, I didn't do it because I'm scared of you - your arm gets tired after giving me like three lashes. I did it because I'm going to be spending a lot of time bleeding on this table and I doubt it occurred to you to disinfect it."

Whumpee teaching Whumper how to whump:

"Show me what they used to do to you."

Whumper studying the scars on Whumpees body to learn the best places to cut/stab.

"Oh no! A knife? How original!" /s

"If you stab me right there you'll kill me. You have to go one inch to the right. Yeah, right there-AHHHHHH! …yup. Right there."

"I'll make you a deal. Let me have a solid eight hours of sleep and I'll show you where to pinch the nerve that will paralyze my left arm."

"You can't leave me tied up like this!" "I can do what I want!" "Yes. Okay. True. But like, you've either got to tie my knees to my chest or let my feet touch the ground. Otherwise I'm going to asphyxiate."

Whumper having an inferiority complex:

"I CAN DO ANYTHING THEY COULD DAMMIT!" (They = Whumpee's former Whumper)

"WHUMPEE! YOU'RE NOT BETTER THAN ME!" *Whumpee trying not to laugh when Whumper fucks up something really basic.*

"You must think I'm so pathetic." "NOo! Of course not! You're doing amazing! Really you are! I'm so fucking scared of you right now. I promise."

"I'll never be as good as the person who hurt you before." "You'll get there! I promise. I was like his fifth victim - I'm your first. Be kind to yourself!"

"How the fuck did your former Whumper do it?" "Yeah... you're not getting that out of me..."

Whumper being paranoid that Whumpee is manipulating them. Even though they hold the power they feel like Whumpee has more control over the situation because they know more.

Also...

Whumpee knowing just how to manage Whumper. They instinctively know when to be a little defiant and when to do exactly as they are told. They know just the right tone of voice to speak in, and just how to move, scream, to keep Whumper as pleased as possible. The sooner Whumper is satisfied the sooner it will stop.

Whumpee pretending it hurts worse than it does, lying about which places/tortures hurt most, acting more sick or tired than they really are to get rest/food, acting more scared than they really are… It's not like Whumper could know better.

[moraxine]

Inevitable [Gojo Satoru]

pairing: gojo satoru x reader

words: 1.3k

summary: you and satoru fall for the oldest trick in the book.

It’s a typical morning at Jujutsu High, the sun casting its warm hues across the campus as students roam the premises, training or studying. Nobara, Megumi, and Yuji are together, heads pressed close as they discuss their latest idea—Operation: Set Up Gojo and y/n.

"You guys know they totally like each other, right?" Nobara says, arms crossed. "I mean, come on, it's obvious. They keep sneaking glances at each other, the tension is unreal."

Megumi raises an eyebrow. "If it's so obvious, why haven’t they done anything about it?"

"Because they're both hopeless," Yuji chimes in with a grin. "Especially y/n-sensei. She's so shy when it comes to Gojo-sensei."

Nobara leans forward, a mischievous gleam in her eyes. "Exactly. And that’s where we come in. We need to give them a little... push. Maybe force them to confront their feelings, you know?”

Megumi sighs, accepting the fact that he has to take part in his friends’ stupidly mischievous schemes once again. “What are you thinking?

"Simple," she replies, cracking her knuckles. "We lock them up somewhere and just let the magic happen."

Later on the same day, you’ve just finished grading papers, ready to leave your office, when you receive a text from Yuji.

Hey, y/n sensei! Could you meet me in the old storage room near the gym? I really need your help with something super important!

You furrow your eyebrows in confusion. Other than the fact that this text is free of spelling mistakes, the request itself is quite strange. However, since your relationship with your students has been nothing but great, you put trust in them—as much as an adult can, anyway—and Yuji is no exception.

Thus, you grab your coat and make your way to the storage room. Truth be told, it’s rarely used and a bit dusty, which raises a lot of questions in your head as to why Yuji would need you there, but then you remember that it’s also tucked away enough for privacy. As you approach, you notice the door slightly ajar.

"Yuji?" you call out as you step inside.

No longer than ten seconds after you’re in, the door slams shut behind you, making you jump in terror. You whirl around, heart racing. Your hand reaches for the handle but the desperate attempt is futile.

What the actual fu-

“Oh, it’s just you.”

A helpless scream leaves your throat as you turn all the other way around and find yourself staring at the one and only Satoru Gojo, the man who’s been occupying way too much space in your thoughts lately.

Gojo seems composed when he offers you his signature smirk, leaning casually against the wall, his blindfold pulled up so his mesmerising blue eyes are visible. "I was expecting a student ambush or something."

"Yeah, well... same here, kinda,” you mutter, as you try to control your breathing. After a few moments, reality hits and your cheeks heat up as you realise you’re completely alone with him in a—not so very comfortable—space. "Did they trick you into coming here too?"

He nods. "I got a text from Megumi saying something about needing immediate help. Guess we're both suckers."

You cross your arms and sigh, slightly relieved that at least you aren’t a victim of some really serious prank. You glance at the door one last time. "Well, it's locked now, so I guess we're stuck."

There is an awkward silence for a few moments. The tension between you two has always been evident, but neither of you ever made a move to address it. You often find yourself stammering around Gojo, unable to handle the teasing words or the way his eyes linger on you a little too long sometimes.

Gojo, on the other hand, despite his confident front, is surprisingly shy when it comes to you. Sure, he makes his usual sarcastic comments and tries to act like all is fine, but deep down, he’s always been afraid of saying the wrong thing and accidentally hurting you.

"So,” you start, scratching the back of your neck awkwardly, “you think this is some kind of setup?"

He chuckles, walking closer to you. "Oh, absolutely. Our adorable students are trying to play matchmaker. I should’ve known when I saw Yuji smiling like a fool earlier."

You roll your eyes, trying to ignore how close he’s standing now. "Well, it's not going to work. We’re professionals."

"Sure, because professionals definitely get trapped in storage rooms," Gojo quips, flashing you a grin. "Besides, I think they just wanted to speed up the inevitable."

You blink, feeling your pulse quicken. "Inevitable?"

Acting dumb won’t slow down that inevitable, either.

"You know," he replies with a nonchalant shrug. "Us."

You narrow your eyes, though your heart is now undoubtedly hammering in your chest. "You have a lot of nerve assuming there's an 'us,' Satoru."

He raises an eyebrow, stepping even closer, his tone dripping with playful sarcasm. "Please, y/n, I've seen the way you look at me. You're totally into me."

Your mouth drops open, a mix of embarrassment and irritation bubbling up. Sure, he’s absolutely right, you’re head over heels for your handsome and charismatic coworker, but hell, he makes it sound one-sided when that’s so far from the truth.

“Excuse me? You’re the one who’s always staring at me during meetings. It’s creepy."

"Oh, so you notice me staring," he teases, his grin widening. "Admit it, you like it."

"I do not!" you huff in honest annoyance, cheeks burning. "And even if I did, why would I ever admit it to you? Your ego is already big enough to take up the whole room."

Gojo dramatically places a hand over his heart. "Ouch. You wound me, darling. Here I was, thinking we had a good thing going."

You cross your arms and shoot him a glare. "Yeah, well, you're delusional."

Denial will get you nowhere, you’re well aware, but the fact that Gojo is so cocky about it flips a switch inside you which makes consider whether your should jump him or jump him.

He chuckles as he leans in slightly, his face only inches from yours now. "Am I? Or are you just too shy to admit you like me?"

You swallow hard, refusing to back down. "Like you? Please, you're insufferable."

"Insufferable, huh?" he murmurs, his voice dropping an octave. "Then why haven't you moved away yet?"

Fair point.

Your breath hitches in your throat. Yes, you could have backed up, put some distance between you two, but instead, you’re just rooted in place, caught in the intensity of his gaze. Gojo’s smirk softens.

"You're cute when you're mad, you know that?"

You scoff, though it comes out weaker than intended. "And you're annoying, as always."

He tilts his head, his eyes glinting with amusement. "Maybe, but you like me anyway."

You open your mouth to retort, but before you can form any sort of response, his lips are on yours, cutting you off with a sudden kiss. For a moment, you freeze in shock, but then, instinct takes over, and you kiss him back. His lips are sweet, soft, and despite the teasing and the banter, the kiss is gentle, almost tender. Gojo's hand embraces your waist and slowly pulls you in, while the other rests on your face, and you can’t help but melt under his touch.

When you finally pull away, both of you are slightly breathless, and his usual cocky grin is replaced with a softer smile.

"See?" he whispers. "Told you it was inevitable."

“You're still insufferable."

"As if it doesn’t turn you on," he teases, leaning in for another kiss.

Outside the storage room, Nobara, Yuji, and Megumi exchange their triumphant high-fives.

"Mission accomplished," Nobara whispers.

Yuji nods. “Nicely done, Kugusaki."

Megumi shrugs his shoulders, glad that the whole thing is finally over.

You fell for the oldest trick in the book.

[tiredfox64]

Could you pretty please do the lin kuei bros x siren reader 🙏🥺

Bad Things to Come for Travelers

Yip notes: Since when were sirens bird women? I didn't know this. Hope we are talking about the mermaid kind.

Pairings: Lin Kuei Bros x Siren! Afab reader

Warnings‼️: This may be short

It was supposed to be a simple mission. All the brothers needed to do was retrieve an item for Liu Kang. Some jade artifact or something. This mission took them to rocky cliffs and harsh waves. There were points where they had to hug the wall to prevent their deaths. They believed that would be the only challenge they would face while on this journey.

Wishful thinking…

The brothers were reaching the top of the cliff, their bodies somewhat soaked by the waves that were just barely miss them. You hid behind a rock to peek at your new visitors. Three of them? Oooh, this will be a fun challenge for you. Let’s see if you can get all three men.

The brothers got to a spot that seemed relatively safe. A part where there were no waves crashing and the cliffside was flat. They took that as an opportunity to take a breather. You took that opportunity to sing your lovely siren melody. The wind blew your voice into the men’s ears. At first they thought it was the wind itself making that sweet sound. No, that can’t be right. The wind had been blowing nonstop and only made that sound now. Bi-Han was the first to act by covering his ears with his hands.

“Cover your ears.” He commanded.

“Why?” Tomas asked.

Kuai Liang listened and didn’t ask questions, leaving Tomas in a vulnerable place. Bi-Han remembered something that Liu Kang told him before going out. He warned that if he were to hear anything that sounded like singing that he should cover his ears immediately. It’s a sign of a siren trying to lure men to their doom.

That’s exactly what’s happening.

Kuai Liang stared at Bi-Han while in a panic. If they move their hands to cover Tomas’ ears they put themselves at risk. It was too late; Tomas was already in a trance. His pupils were dilated and his eye color barely showed. He walked closer to the edge of the cliff. Kuai Liang called for him to stop. Tomas looked down the cliff and saw you lying on a rock. You looked up at him, giving him a smile. You were happy not because he noticed you but because he was close to his demise.

You don’t know these men, remember? You don’t know what they have up their sleeves. That’s when you saw Tomas pull out his karambit that shined even though it was cloudy. He threw down a smoke bomb and he was gone. You were left confused and wondered what you just encountered. Did you encounter an Enenra that was disguised as a human?

Then you heard the sound of stone being struck. When you looked up you saw Tomas sliding down the cliffside, using his karambit as a way to slow him down. Once he hit the ground he came up to you with that same crazed look you usually see in your victims. Except Tomas was not a victim. Though he was in a trance he was smart enough to not leap off the ledge and be impaled by sharp rocks.

“Wow…you’re even more beautiful up close.” He said with this lovesick tone.

His hand went up to caress your wet hair. You were appalled, astonished, flabbergasted even. Your victims never got this close to you. But now you have a man in front of you who can’t take his eyes off you. He didn’t even comment on your tail. He knelt down in front of the rock you were lying on and had his head in his hands, admiring you like you were a goddess. It was a nice change, you couldn’t lie.

Kuai Liang and Bi-Han stepped closer to the cliffside and stared down. Good to see that Tomas wasn’t dead. Kuai Liang was unsure of what his brother was doing until Bi-Han gave a hint.

“That fool, he fell for the siren’s song.”

“I thought those were myths.” Kuai Liang was surprised.

You noticed that the two were looking down at you. Try your luck again. Maybe this time at least one of them will meet their maker today.

You sang your song once more. Bi-Han was quick to cover his ears again, Kuai Liang unfortunately wasn’t quick enough. Bi-Han knew there was something wrong when he saw his brother wasn’t moving at all. His pupils dilated until there was no more golden brown showing. He tried to take a step forward but Bi-Han used his leg to push him back. He couldn’t trip him because he would accidentally kill him. He tried his best to push him back with his legs or even his whole body. Kuai Liang was fighting back while in this daze. He just had to get a closer look. There was no other option and Bi-Han was so frustrated he decided to grab his brother with his hands and pull him back.

uh oh!

bad decision, bi-han!

The effects of your song immediately got Bi-Han. His eyes grew darker from the dilation of his pupils. The brothers were not fighting anymore but were instead staring at you. You thought this would be the moment you killed two birds with one stone. Nope, you’re in for a surprise.

Bi-Han pushed his brother out of the way before creating steps made from ice down the cliffside. Kuai Liang was not gonna lose to his older brother so he started acting quickly. He stabbed his kunai to the side of the cliff and held onto the rope tightly before taking steps down. You lay there, not angered but disappointed. How did you mess up that badly? When did humans have the ability to do tricks like that?

Before you knew it, Bi-Han slid all the way down to you and Kuai Liang scaled down the mountain. You got three beautiful men in front of you and you have the nerve to complain? Yeesh!

They adored you which was weird. Usually, people look at you with fear but for once you get to see the faces of your victims. Tomas melted every time you placed your hand under his chin. Kuai Liang liked to admire how your scales shine and how flowy the end of your tail is. Bi-Han…he’s already acting up. He’s acting possessive, holding your waist and pressing you against his body. The other two are getting agitated now. They want you just as badly as Bi-Han does.

“I was the first one down here,” Tomas argued.

“I was just as willing to see her up close as you were!” Kuai Liang shouted at Tomas.

“I am your grandmaster! She should be to me!” Bi-Han was shouting right in your ear.

Alright, you see why the other sirens tell you not to let the trance go on for ages. They get possessive and see what they could potentially do you don’t want them turning on you or each other. Nobody wants to handle a burnt corpse or a frozen carcass.

You sighed, knowing that the fun had to end now. Might as well bring them back to shore. You grabbed Bi-Han with your right hand and Kuai Liang with your left. You bit the back of Tomas’ uniform before diving into the sea. One second they were on the rock with you and the other they were being flung up into the air and landing on the wet sand. Kuai Liang rubbed his head after that rough landing while Bi-Han was trying to catch his breath after inhaling too much seawater. Tomas was booking it down the shore and was already jumping in the water to catch you. He grabbed onto your tail and begged you to not leave him. You almost felt bad for doing it but you knew he couldn’t stay with you so you had to push him off. He swam away quickly, leaving them in an uncomfortable situation.

“I think Tomas is still in a trance.” Kuai Liang said.

“No, I just wanted to have her around for a little bit longer,” Tomas replied in a sad tone, the waves pushing his body back to the shore.

Bi-Han finally caught his breath and realized what happened. That was unpleasant and he could not forgive himself for falling for that. He grabbed Kuai Liang and Tomas and started dragging them in the opposite direction of the sea.

“Wait, where are we going?” Tomas asked, “Aren’t we supposed to-“

“I AM NOT GOING BACK UP THAT CLIFF!”

For the first time, the brother will return to Liu Kang empty-handed. Bi-Han can tell Liu Kang to get it himself because he is not going through that again.

Yap notes: I hate posting late I'm sorry. And yes I did make a Mandela Catalogue reference. I don't really have much to say so yeah. Adiós!

[stonegoldsxcrxt]

Ah, Star Wars fans. Once again perpetuating the Draco in Leather Pants trope to the point where we're all sick of it. Do I have to beat someone with the 'He's-Supposed-To-Be-Evil' Stick or something?

yeah. the acolyte itself as a show is straddling a line right now that, I'm sorry, I kind of don't think the Star Wars fandom at large is media literate enough to understand.

I've already seen a number of tiktoks and tumblr posts saying, "omg now I understand reylos," which besides being exhausting and annoying, immediately proves my point. There's obviously some differences between reylo and whatever osha/qimir is called within both production and the narrative, but overall what I'm baffled by every. single. time. is how weirdly everyone in the star wars fandom reacts to an attractive male villain blatantly manipulating a young woman.

I think the acolyte is clearly aiming for us to see and understand that Qimir is manipulating Osha. We know Qimir is clever. We saw him successfully worm his way out of being caught by the Jedi by playing up the "quirky sidekick" shtick. What I don't think a lot of the audience picks up on is just how smart he is. During one of his and Osha's conversations, he lets her suggest things and make assumptions, ie:

Osha: Where’d you get that scar?

Qimir: How do you think I got it?

Osha: Looks like someone stabbed you in the back.

Qimir: Someone who threw me away.

Osha: Your Jedi Master?

And then he doesn't correct her or elaborate. He lets her assume the worst. He lets her imagination wander. He's not interested in explaining because he knows the real story, whatever it may be, doesn't make him look as favorable as her idea. It's exchanges like that that are subtle examples of his manipulation, less obvious than the outright goading he uses against her when he gets her to admit she thinks of herself as a failure and that's why she left the Jedi.

There's also the earlier exchange:

Osha: He’s found me before, and his strength in the Force is very powerful.

Qimir: You think that’s his strength? That’s your strength in the Force, Osha. Someone ought to teach you that.

To a lot of people, that sounds like a compliment. But it isn't. Qimir makes a statement vague enough that successfully implies the Jedi have been lying to Osha about her own strength in the Force while also keeping just enough information to himself that he knows Osha will stick around to find out what he meant, instead of swimming to the ship he points out to her right after. And she does exactly that, continues to follow and engage in argument and conversation with him.

In fact, Qimir knows the more Osha talks to him, the more Osha even entertains the idea of talking to him instead of leaving, the more he can get inside her head. His naked swimming jaunt isn't him flaunting or showing off for Osha in some genuinely romantic way– it's yet another manipulation tactic. Though, if she is seduced, that helps him too.

Qimir purposefully makes himself into a vulnerable state in front of her to lull her into a false sense of security. He leaves his weapon with his clothes so she has the opportunity to take it; he is signalling to her that he is "completely" disarmed, though that is not true, since we know he is far stronger in the Force and in combat, and, perhaps, more cunning than Osha. His nudity forces Osha to acknowledge he is human, and Qimir benefits from Osha thinking of him as just a quirky, charming loner who's the victim of the Jedi, who offers her soup and disrobes in front of her.

The reason I know that none of this is genuine is simple. He goes back and forth between flat out acting as if he pities Osha ("Why do you love people who can only go so far?") but that doesn't get him the reaction he's looking for, so he bounces back to antagonizing her ("Why aren’t you a Jedi, Osha?) to finally, convincing her that she is similar to him ("I understand.") None of these things are actually Qimir trying to get to know Osha. Sure, he needs to understand her to manipulate her, but he'd do or say anything to get her to stick around and allow him to corrupt her further.

to me, Qimir is kind of the Star Wars equivalent to like a mimic species in the animal world. He's smart enough to know that in order to get what he wants, he has to act a certain way that isn't necessarily his real personality, and he can exploit Osha's (and anyone else's, for that matter) feelings by molding his personality and actions to achieve his goals so his victims are less likely to notice that he's using them.

The problem is that a big portion of the audience doesn't appear to recognize it, either. We know the rules of the Star Wars universe very well by now. Force Users this deep in the Dark Side cannot actually love someone. Sure, they can be obsessed with someone, but they cannot actually reciprocate feelings as the Dark Side corrupts them.

I've come to the conclusion that the majority of people watching Star Wars are not watching with the intention of picking up on any of this, despite the fact that the acolyte is actually doing it quite masterfully. They are paying attention to Manny Jacinto's muscles, and little else. You cannot argue or convince people who do not want to listen. They did not want to listen in 2017, when the reddest of red flags "You're nothing, but not to me," line was delivered, which had all the subtlety of being hit over the head with an anvil, and they are not listening now. If people are able to be gaslit by Kylo Ren into believing his victim card was validated, they will certainly and inevitably be gaslit by Qimir, who, so far, is much more cunning.

the acolyte even *plans* for this though, deliberately and suddenly cutting to the scene of Jecki's lifeless body, reminding the audience that Qimir is not the quirky, charming, harmless loner who he presents himself to be, but actually a man who we know to be capable of unspeakable acts of violence towards even children. at this point, I can't actually see any reason why the fandom continues to act like he is in love with Osha in any kind of genuine manner when it's so mind-blowingly obvious that he is male manipulator #1.

I think does a huge disservice to the story the acolyte seems to be trying to present at this point to be so blind with lust or whatever it is the fandom feels towards this guy that his own tactics have begun to work on them. it's actually so incredible that it makes me a bit ill. they may find him hot all they want, but for the love of Leia Organa's Star Wars at least recognize his tactics for what they are instead of also allowing yourself to be fooled!!

[dr-zeddy]

Miquella is a deeply tragic character and saying he's a villain just because he used someone, who was probably way worse than him to create an order lead by kindness, makes you come off as pretty short-sighted imo Miq was as much of a victim as Mohg. He had good intentions, he truly believed he could make the he could make the world a better place.

*exhales deeply* Are you the person, I think you are? nonetheless....

I'm going to shed my opinion on Miquella now because I seriously can not tell if this is bait or not from things we see and know in the base game and DLC and want to clarify my thoughts on him and why I believe rendering him as a victim is extremely problematic, also outside of the entire Mohg situation.

Is it so hard to internalize that the things Miquella did were actually highly morally questionable? I got to admit, he is a way more interesting character to me after the DLC because of the things he did (and I enjoy villains, so yeah.) I guess the »villain« term is as much accurate as some of you folks justify brainwashing to be ethical , when it is done with good intentions and keeps the peace, with which I personally do not agree with at all.

I don't see Miquella as tragic because honestly we have nothing to suggest that this guy suffered in any way before he decided to rip himself off of his personality. And that is the point, he decided to do that himself. No one forced him to this. Miquella had a choice, unlike Mohg. Yeah sure, you could argue that he suffered through his immense »empathy« but honestly, Miquella's empathy for the weak and shunned always came off as superficial. Why does he not care for the Albinaurics being tortured in Castle Sol, which is clearly allied with him? Where are the Misbegotten and other creatures in Elphael? Where are the Albinaurics? And the Omens? The Nomads?? Miquella claims to want to create a perfect world where everyone is equal but honestly except for words we hear, we do not see any fucking action or effort to truly include them in his world order.

And that's the thing, Miquella reeks for me at best of naivity and at worst of white saviour complex. He grew up as a fucking empyrean, he had a good relationship with at least one of his parents, he was a golden child. From the things we see and hear in the base game, and now the DLC, it feels like Miquella does not seem to grasp the complexity of the situation when it comes to subjugation. If that is due to his child-like thinking, infused by his curse or actually just his personality, is up for debate. Can you truly care for the subjugated as someone more privileged? Absolutely. But only if you truly educate yourself on the matter and actually listen to the needs of the excluded and shunned.

What does Miquella do instead? He rips everyone off of their autonomy to make decisions themselves if they refuse or challenge his beliefs. That is textbook tyranny. You can not save someone, who refuses to be saved by someone like you. Doing so anyway is extremely ignorant. In the end, Miquella actually puts his needs & beliefs before that of those he claims to desire to save. He is so convinced of his own agenda that he loses track of the moral dilemma, his approach to worldpeace poses. That is not tragic. These are the thoughts of a megalomaniac. If Miquella's selflessness was truly genuine there would be no need of compelling affection. However, he bewitches people. Over and over.

Of course, there are his efforts of curing Malenia still. But even that is, in the big sight of things, not really a selfless act because Malenia is a.) close family and b.) he gets and actual use out of Malenia's talent as a skilled swordswoman. I do not think Miquella bewitched her, I truly believe Malenia followed him by his own will and I also do believe he really did want to help her! However true kindness lays in how you treat those who can do nothing for you. Bewitching those who can do nothing for you and refuse to follow you, is not exactly a very pretty picture of his character.

And in comes Mohg to this occasion. The game is so fucking obvious about the fact that Mohg was the exploited one and I seriously do not understand why people still insist he isn't and exploited Miquella?? He is the only demigod we know for certain of, who was brainwashed. With Radahn and Malenia we do not know for sure but with Mohg we do. The fact that Mohg was bewitched implies that Miquella could not be sure that Mohg would have agreed to a deal and that would have been a way safer route than to bewitch him and his closest consult. I mean, Miquella almost DIED because he underestimated Ansbach's knowledge on how Mohg behaves. Why the fuck risk that if you could have just openly made a deal with Mohg, if he was as power hungry and crazy as the game implied?

In contrast to Miquella, Mohg is actually one of the most tragic characters in the game. This motherfucker was told his mere existence is a crime, grew up in the sewers locked away for years, he had no one except this one Outer God who seemed to care for him and showed him maternal love, something he was deprived off his entire life. Not getting into the speculation on how the cult operated before Miquella took over but it's very clear that he ruined Mohg's life. Mohg just wanted to get away from the toxicity he grew up with and created his own haven, from which he too thought, was the right thing to do. However he never forced anyone to join him. He never mind controlled people. People followed him by their own accounts.

The cult in itself is probably morally questionable too but we also have no idea how the Mohgwyn Dynasty worked before Miquella essentially took over. But by that standard, everyone is in the Lands Between is a twisted bastard with their different agendas ….

The point is that Ansbach is still right though when he says that »Mohg deserved better«. NO ONE who is genuinely interested in helping the shunned and subjugated, would chose one of the most excluded and tormented souls as their pawn. NOBODY deserves to be treated like this but the fact that Mohg is a product of extreme racism and social exclusion makes it so much worse and makes Miquella look so much more hypocritical. It suits the stuff we see in Castle Sol and the Haligtree … Miquella wants to be seen as the world's saviour so badly but seems to have no understanding on what suffering actually means. Because he never experienced it. His empathy is superficial and short sighted. The fact he is convinced he is doing everyone a favour in bewitching them, and does everything in his power to achieve his dream, makes him a truly terrifying villain. And that is something I like Miquella for. Is that really so hard to accept for people like you?

Sure, you can still live out the fantasy in your head that the mindcontrolling intermitted in Mohg to "grape" Miquella (even tho the game also never confirmed this????) if that pleases you, but for the love of God stop acting like it is a fact that Miquella was used by Mohg because he wasn't. I guess a lot of personal feelings from my side bubble up regarding this topic and I'm sorry of if I come off as passive aggressive but as a survivor of abuse as a minor by someone "popular", and nobody believed me, and Mohg being one of my comfort characters, that shit hits different. Just not a fan of turning victim-abuser dynamics upside down, sorry.

[houxe]

Regarding my SBI/DSMP Fics

TW: Abuse, Trauma, and Mentions of Suicide.

With all that has happened, I did want to come out here and make my stance clear. I will always stand with Shelby (Shubble) and all of the victims who are speaking out against Will Gold (Wilbur Soot). If you still support that bastard, unfollow me and leave my blog and whatever small community I made.

I've already stated this is my Discord channel, but I want to put it here too.

For me, c!Wilbur is so far removed from cc!Wilbur that I don't connect the two. The characters are vessels for my own characterizations and stories. It's a bit like writing Supernatural*, Twilight, or Hazbin Hotel fanfics. I don't support the guy, monetarily or otherwise, he does not interact with fanfics, I have plans to be very vocal that I'm on Shelby's side no matter what/make it clear that what Will did is wrong, and I don't use his real life events as plots in my stories. At least, I certainly don't try to. It's why I typically change traits about the characters. (I.e. Tommy is shorter, Phil is taller, Techno is bulky, and Wilbur always has golden/hazel eyes.)

I'm aware that it's a tad different because it's rp and not something like a full on book or an actor in a movie, but DSMP has also been over for over two years and the characterizations I make for SBI are not at all based on the CCs. Real life Techno isn't a literal terrorist, Phil ain't a father married to a goddess, Tommy is not a traumatized child soldier, and Wilbur isn't suicidal and blowing up countries.

I think I'll likely focus more on Techno, Tommy, and Phil for a while, but I'm not gonna let one dude ruin a fandom and things I've made for myself. Nothing I write is ever made for Wilbur, as I've seen people saying. Additionally, Wilbur was not the only writer. Technoblade, Philza, TommyInnit, and so many others made that story what it was. Not him.

However, if any CCs come forward saying they don't want their old characters interacting with his, I will respect that.

Though I do think there is a tendency to take real life events (i.e. Techno's cancer, LJ's music, Tommy's real life parents, etc.) and put them into fiction about DSMP. I, however, don't try to do that and have stated before that I don't feel comfortable doing so. The truth is that we have not gotten any genuine SBI content outside of DSMP for years. The dynamic in real life is very different from what was presented in the DSMP. Did personalities still bleed over? Yes, I'm not going to deny that, but I'm not going to act like they're exactly the same between character and person either. We've had that conversation like in 2021, it's why we have C! and CC!.

The rather sad truth is, SBI is what got me really into writing and it's a comfort for me that nothing can compare to. Obviously, I don't think it's appropriate to be writing certain types of stories right now or to be involving characters made by CCs outside of the DSMP. I think it's up to everyone else to decide on what they want to do, however, rushing it also isn't the way to go either. Give yourself time to heal and think it over first instead of throwing away something that gives you comfort and has not been associated with by the creators for over two years.

Anyways, fuck Will Gold. Fuck the fact that he hurt so many people, and fuck that he lied and manipulated his way around the damn internet. ESPECIALLY fuck the fact that he tried to diminish what he did and not take proper accountability.

Go and support Shelby so so much, she and everyone who spoke out really deserve it. I'm glad silence on these types of issues is not being normalized.

Here is a list of (American) resources for DV help:

TNLR

RAINN

WOAR

Love is respect

The Trevor project

Futures without violence

National domestic violence hotline

Resource on what DV and abuse looks like

*Changed it from Harry Potter to Supernatural because Harry Potter is a significantly worse and more problematic franchise, even just within the content of the books. It'd be better left in the dust. I've talked about it before, but it was the first thing that came to my mind at the time and was a poor comparison on my part, I'm truly sorry for that.

[ur-local-anti-hero]

Dear John

Regulus Black x Reader

Summary: Maybe you should have listened to your best friend's warning about Regulus, you didn't. Now you just have to deal with the consequences.

Genre: Angst

CW: Intimidation, angst, pureblood's ideology, toxic family dynamics

Word count: 1.6K

This is part of my Speak now (Marauders' version) collection.

“Maybe it's you and your sick need. To give love then take it away

And you'll add my name to your long list of traitors, Who don't understand

And I'll look back and regret I ignored when they said, "Run as fast as you can"

You wished you had listened. The argument you had with Sirius when he learned you were dating his brother was being replayed in your head while you ran towards your boyfriend’s room. 

“He’s going to ruin you, you don’t know him like I do.” Sirius had said, voice low with anger and worry. “The moment my mother hears about you two it’s over.” 

“You’re the one that doesn’t know him!” It had angered you, Sirius assuming that Regulus’ love for you was fragile. “I really love him, and he loves me. End of discussion.” 

“You don’t understand what you’re getting into. My brother would never prioritize you over our mother. and she’s never going to accept a Gryffinfor Muggleborn as a suitable partner for Regulus” 

You knew he was right, but some part of you naively thought that Regulus truly loved you.

“I’m saying this because I care about you. You should leave while you can” you could tell Sirius was worried and meant no harm, but that argument ended your friendship with the oldest Black brother. 

That was almost a year ago, you used to have a close friendship with him, but now he wouldn’t even acknowledge you. You refused to break up with Regulus, and you really thought you were doing the right thing. Regulus had shown you every part of him, you knew about his family and all the things he had done and regretted. But you also knew about the caring, loving and kind person he was. 

Even when the war was starting to become more and more imminent as the dark lord and deatheaters won power and followers, he never showed any interest in joining into the dark lord’s lines. The abuse and intimidation became worse and worse for mugglerborns who had the bad luck of running into slytherings in the hallways. 

Regulus was very aware of it, he became like your shadow, never leaving your side until curfew forced him to. And he was the first to greet you every morning, waiting for you outside your house’s common room. 

At least it was like this before Christmas break. It had been a week since you come back from the break and Regulus was acting weird, at first you thought it was because he had to adapt again to Hogwarts - It took him some time to come back to his normal self ater staying in his house - but after a week of almost no contact with him you became worried. 

On your way to the dungeons you ran into Snape and Evan. You had tried to avoid them, head low and pace hurried, but it seemed like they had a special radar to spot possible victims for their tortures and mocking. They blocked your path, you were cornered against a wall as they got closer than it was safe. 

“Look who is here” Evan had teased you, his wand pointing at your face. “Regulus’ little pet”

“Why are you separated from your guardian dog?” Snape taunted you. “Has he finally realized that he’s got more important things to do rather than take care of a filthy mudblood?” 

You didn’t like a bit where the situation was going, you had tried to reach your wand, but Snape had noticed and raised his wand at you. 

“Don’t even think about it” 

“You know, Snape? I’m curious.” He hadn’t stopped looking at you. “What are you doing here, there’s no way you’re going to see Regulus right?”  

He knew exactly that it was the only reason you would ever step into the dungeons. His face turned into a look of fake pity. 

“Oh. Poor little thing, he hasn’t told you has he?” Evan was mocking you, playing with your psyche as all slytherings liked to, still his next words made your blood run cold. “He’s become the new right-hand for the dark lord. As he ought to, at the end of the day he’s a Black.” 

That’s when you started running, Snape and Evan probably tought it was enough torture to mess with your head and they let you pass them by without much hussle. 

And you ran all the way to the Slythering common room. Usually you wouldn’t dare to enter alone, but you needed to see Regulus. You didn’t want to believe Evan’s words, ‘He’s probably trying to confuse you, make you confront Regulus and cause an argument’. You were trying to convince yourself, but you couldn’t deny that the possibility was there. 

You made it to Regulus’ dorm, without even knocking you entered. Inside Regulus was laying in his bed, Barty was in one of the desks, working on homework, or a plan to destroy civilization. You didnt really care, all you could focus on was Reg. 

“Regulus” your voice didn’t feel like yourself, it was void of any emotion other than obvious tiredness from your running. 

Regulus jolted out of bed when he heard you. Barty turned around and his lips morphed into a teasing smirk. 

“Oh well, look who’s here -” “Leave, now.” Barty was cut short by Regulus’ demand, for a second you thought he was talking to you, but he was facing Barty. 

“okay, okay. No need to get aggressive…” Barty said before getting up from the chair. He walked past you, didn’t even acknowledge your presence, and closed the door behind him. 

───✥───

Regulus knew this was coming, there was no way you wouldn’t notice his absence or avoid entirely the rumors of the new deatheater in Hogwarts. He just wished it didn’t have to be this way. He coudn’t face you, from the start you and him were on opposite sides of the war, but he getting the mark was what made it definite. 

“Reg-” “What do you want?”

 Regulus’ voice was icy, not a single emotion in it. He saw you flinch at his tone. He never talked to you like that, his tone was always sweet and words picked with care whenever he referred to you. His change in demeanour angered and saddened you, he could tell. 

“Are you really asking me what I want?” your tone was colder now, you stepped closer with each word. “I’ve barely seen you for a week, and the moment I step into the dungeons the first thing I hear is that you’re the new right-hand for the dark lord. Please, tell me it’s not true”  

He could hear your voice crack and your waterline become wet with unsed tears. He knew you so well, he knew you were not going to cry, he knew you would give him the benefit of the doubt and hear him out. He knew that if he would tell you the truth, how he was forced and tortured to take the mark, you would understand, try to find a way to help and stand by his side. 

“It’s true” 

And he couldn’t allow that. If he were to let you in again, he wouldn’t be able to do what he had to do. End things, for your sake. 

“You’re lying to me, this is all a big joke, it has to be” you cried. 

He didn’t reply, he couldn’t bring himself to say anything. At his silence you reached for his sleeve, pulling it up. He didn’t even flinch, and he let you stare at his bare arm. Well, not bare, as the deatheater mark was there, taking up half of his arm. 

You dropped his arm and stared at him in absolute shock. He didn’t say anything, that was angered the most, how he was not even able to say anything. 

“You didn’t want to, right?” he stayed silent “Please, say something” you implored. 

“It's my duty, it’s what 's right.” he deadpanned. 

You chuckled humorlessly “What’s right? That 's right? You’re joining a pureblood supremacist cult, there’s nothing right about it!”  

“And what about us, do I mean that little to you? Does our relationship mean anything at all to you?”  you said in a softer tone. 

“No. It was a mistake, from the start. I shouldn’t have dated a mudblood” Regulus had to make an enormous effort to not flinch at his own words. But this would make you leave, it had to. 

You promised yourself you wouldn’t cry, but the heartbreak you were feeling was unlike anything you’d ever felt. Regulus had been able to make you feel special, loved for almost two years. He held your heart in his hands and treated it with care, now he was ripping it and giving back to you. 

He didn’t want to fight for your love and you were not going to beg anymore. 

“You’re right. It’s funny, really, Sirius warned me this would happen, but I was too blinded to see that he was right” bringing up Sirius was a low blow, you knew how much he meant for Regulus. But at that moment all you wanted was to make him feel the same heartbreak you were feeling. 

“At the end of the day you’re a Black.” You repeated the same words Evan had said to you on your way to the dungeons. 

Regulus just stood there and nodded. You left his room, clearly distressed and crying. Regulus’ heart was shattered beyond repair. However, this was the best option. He would rather see you leaving, crying and heartbroken for the last time in his life, than lying on the floor lifeslessly as his family had promised if he didn’t leave you and took the mark. 

At the end of the day he was really just a Black, it was the family he was born to and the family he’ll die for. 

Author's note: this one is so sad, I'm sorry Thank you for reading! Likes, comments and reblogs are welcomed and very appreciated. I'd love to hear what you thought about it so don't be shy!! To be part of the taglist Dm me or send me an ask <3 Taglist @feral-posts @izuoyarmin @aremuslupinsim @yourfavgay @imobsessedwitholiviarodrigo 

[lalune9x]

SCTIR Translation - Chapter 402: Sunset (6)

"I promise you," Sung Hyunje said, looking up at me. "I will never take Han Yoohyun away from Han Yoojin, in any way."

Chapter translation under the cut.

---

I roughly wiped my tear-streaked face with my sleeve. Seeing my other self across from me, I couldn’t help but think how ridiculous I looked. Damn, it was actually funny. Maybe it was because I had just been punched, but I felt a strange warmth inside, like something that had been hard and frozen for so long was finally starting to thaw. The version of me held by Yoohyun glared at me.

"What are you crying for? You think you’ve done something great?" my pre-regression self said.

…This bastard, seriously.

"What about you, huh?" I asked.

"Damn it, I’m crying because I’m pissed off!"

"Hey! You think I’m perfectly fine? I can’t exactly show you by splitting myself open!"

"Why don’t you try! Split yourself open!"

"If you get too pissed off, I’ll do it for you!"

"H-Hyung…"

"You said you wanted me to leave this place, right? Fine, let’s go! I’ll leave after I kill you, you damn bastard–no, you damn me!"

"Who do you think I am, a punching bag with no hands or feet? Hey! I’ve got more experience than you, you know? How far have you even made it in dungeons?"

"What accumulates in your body is also experience! You’ve squandered it all and you’re talking about experience?!"

"Don’t you know about gear? You can cover up weaknesses with equipment!"

"You dirty, underhanded bastard!"

Yoohyun looked between me, standing a bit farther away, and my other self, whom he was holding onto, as if he didn’t know what to do. I felt a bit sorry for my brother, but if he hadn’t come, we would have ended up pulling each other’s hair out. Look at that short temper of mine. Isn’t it natural to comfort someone when they cry after losing a precious younger sibling? Though of course, if I were in my other self’s shoes, I would have cursed myself out, too.

"Did you also throw your conscience back to the Stone Age when you returned to the past? Even an Australopithecus, who doesn’t even know how to cover themselves, would have more decency than you!"

"You think I’m enjoying this?!"

It’s not like I was asking for much. But I kept losing my brother. If there really was a god, I wanted to ask them: do you enjoy tearing me and my little brother apart? Huh? Both of us just want to be together, so why are you doing this? Do you get some twisted pleasure from forcing us apart? Or do you just hate us that much?

It wasn’t just a year or two—we were separated for eight years, and then, after all that, things ended up how they did. And then some damn kidnapper showed up and took my little brother away, and we’re still stuck in this mess. Is it so wrong that I want to prepare for the future? Don’t you think I know this isn’t the best way?

"I’m struggling too, damn it!"

"Hyung…" Yoohyun’s face crumpled like he was going to cry. Ah, no, that’s not right.

"No, Yoohyun, I’m only talking to that bastard. I just want to live peacefully with my little brother by my side for the rest of my life. Is that too much to ask?"

"Then just do it!"

"Easier said than done!"

"I want that too, hyung, but. Um, hyung."

"Yoohyun-ah, let go of him for a bit. We’ll talk it out, just talk."

"Yeah, I won’t use a knife, so just let go of him and step outside for a minute."

Yoohyun hugged my pre-regression self even tighter. And look at that jerk, sniffling and acting all obedient in Yoohyun’s arms after yelling at me earlier. Anyone would think he’s an innocent victim. There were still clear marks from the knife and spear on the floor, you know?

"Stop hiding behind our little brother and come out here!"

"I’m not hiding behind him, I’m in front of him!"

"Like that’s something to brag about!"

"…Han Yoojin-gun?" Sung Hyunje spoke.

"I won’t use any gear, since you say it’s underhanded! I’ll just match our stats and prove to you whether my experience is worth anything or not—hey, let me go!"

Sung Hyunje was pulling me back and dragging me away.

"Good grief, what a life I have!"

"Your life is my life!" I retorted.

"Your lip is bleeding," Sung Hyunje remarked.

"Damn it, if you regressed, you should live better! What the hell are you doing, Han Yoojin!"

"I’m your future, you bastard!"

"Hyung, should we go prepare dinner? Hmm? Let’s not fight."

Both I and the other me instantly fell silent. We had to feed our little brother, after all. The other kids and Director Song would also be here soon.

"Come on, hyung. The kitchen here is really nice." Yoohyun coaxed the other me as he led the way out of the lounge. Look at that, following our little brother so obediently, that damnable bastard. Or should I say, that already-damned bastard.

"Your lip is going to swell. And you can’t even use a potion," Sung Hyunje said.

"It’s not like I’m going to be showing off my face, so it’s fine."

When you think about it, that bastard’s going to become me, but I’m the only one getting hit. It’s not fair. I should have hit him too. I wanted to chase after him even now, but Sung Hyunje didn’t let me go. Instead, he carried me over to the hotel’s front desk while I struggled.

"There should be first aid supplies."

"I told you, I’m fine, really."

Sung Hyunje set me down on the desk and found a first aid kit. With a click, the box opened, and he pulled out some antiseptic.

"First, I should say I’m sorry for what happened."

"For what? For my little brother dying? How considerate of you. The Sung Hyunje in the ruins didn’t care whether Yoohyun lived or died."

"I was cold-hearted, then."

"Oh, I’m sure the current Sung Hyunje-ssi doesn’t feel that differently on the inside." 

The only difference was that he was slightly more considerate of my feelings now. The antiseptic touched my lip, and it stung.

"It’s because I know Han Yoojin-gun would get angry, if I’m being honest."

"What if I said I want to hear your honest thoughts? About me, my situation, all of it."

Without a word, Sung Hyunje continued treating my wound.

"Yoohyun died because of me. That’s why I regressed. Even though I reconciled with him, I could never really bring my dead little brother back."

"Han Yoojin-gun."

"If you’re going to say it wasn’t my fault, just don’t say anything. I know there was nothing I could do. It wasn’t my fault, because the situation was just too difficult, too harsh for me to handle. I was just… ordinary. But even so, he was my little brother."

Even if it wasn’t strictly my fault, even if I was just caught up in it all.

"Setting aside the ranks, whether S-Rank or F-Rank, or the Transcendents and the apocalypse and all that—he was just my little brother. And I couldn’t protect him, I couldn’t care for him, I couldn’t keep him safe."

I deserved to be cursed. A bitter laugh escaped me.

"That guy asked why I was still alive, but he’d do the same. Even knowing all this, he wouldn’t let go either, that bastard. I should have punched him too."

"There was a time when I considered getting rid of Han Yoohyun and Park Yerim.”

Sung Hyunje spoke quietly as he packed up the first aid kit.

I’d said I wanted to hear his honest thoughts, but he was being a bit too honest. 

"It would have made it easier to take Han Yoojin for myself, and I was curious about what kind of Han Yoojin would emerge—whether you’d completely break down or manage to stand firm. And whichever it was, I thought I could still reel you in."

"If you were anyone else, I would’ve stabbed you in the neck by now."

"Then am I an exception?"

"You won’t do that kind of thing now, anyway." Even as I said it, my heart skipped a beat. 

Sung Hyunje gave a slight smile. "To be truthful, I’m still not entirely pleased with how tightly you’re bound with Han Yoohyun. Especially now that you’ve added a dead version to that."

“If I lose Yoohyun again, I really will die. I’ve already lost so much that I’m barely hanging on. You didn’t see how that guy’s eyes went wild when he pulled his knife on me earlier. He doesn’t even think of me as himself anymore. That’s exactly how I feel. I really can’t have my little brother taken from me."

Sung Hyunje handed me some wet wipes that he’d procured from somewhere. I pulled one out and wiped away my tear stains.

"I promise you," Sung Hyunje said, looking up at me. "I will never take Han Yoohyun away from Han Yoojin, in any way."

"…Can I really trust you, Sung Hyunje-ssi?"

"Despite appearances, I do keep my promises, so you can trust me on this." Sung Hyunje hopped up to sit on the desk beside me and crossed his legs. The tip of his shoe bobbed playfully. "But I can’t promise I won’t take Hyung-nim away from the Young Master."

"What? What if Yoohyun comes after you? Will you not fight back? You better not, in case my brother gets hurt."

"I’d quickly hide behind Han Yoojin-gun."

I imagined that for a moment and burst out laughing. No matter how much he crouched, he wouldn’t be able to hide completely.

"After it’s all over. When everything is truly settled… playing around like that would be fun," I said.

"After it’s all over, huh."

"I just want to live peacefully. I mean the kind of days where the biggest incident is Peep-Peep raiding the kitchen or Yoohyun and Yerim getting into a fight. Days where it feels like time passes too quickly, but it’s not something to fear."

And, also…

"With my brother by my side."

Both of them.

"If anything, it’s a modest wish," Sung Hyunje said.

"But it’s difficult to achieve. What about you, Sung Hyunje-ssi?" I turned to look at him. "If everything ends well, I mean. If you’re no longer at risk of being dragged away again, and are truly free. Is there something you wish for?"

Sung Hyunje tilted his head thoughtfully. 

"Well…"

Surprisingly, he didn’t have an immediate answer. He wore a rare expression of uncertainty.

"This is difficult," he said.

"Difficult?"

"There aren’t many things I could wish for that are actually hard to achieve."

…You’re really something else. Then again, once the issue with the Crescent Moon is resolved, what could Sung Hyunje possibly fail to achieve? He’s already living life exactly the way he wants.

"How about making Director Song genuinely happy to receive a free SS-Rank piece of equipment?"

"You’re challenging me to do the impossible, hm? But it could be fun—"

"Cancel that! Cancel! I’m sorry, Director Song!"

Damn this mouth of mine, causing trouble again.

"Wouldn't it be nice for you to just live peacefully, too, Sung Hyunje-ssi? You’ve been through so much that you probably unconsciously find it boring. But if you think of this world as your last, where you’ll settle at the end of your wandering, even ordinary days might start to feel special."

Simply due to knowing this place is the last.

"Living ordinarily, day by day… ah."

Come to think of it, there are some things Sung Hyunje never got to experience, unlike most people. Making friends and dating. Sure, he had me and Director Song as friends, but what about romance? Even if he’s freed from the Crescent Moon, all his accumulated experiences would remain, so unless it’s with a Transcendent, I guess it probably wouldn’t work.

"Do you like older people by any chance?" I asked.

"…Older people?"

"I mean, as a romantic partner."

"If I had to choose, I’d prefer someone around my age," Sung Hyunje replied.

"In their thirties or forties?"

I feel like we need to add at least a thousand years to that. Sure, Sung Hyunje has his own baggage, but um…

"Is someone significantly older not appealing to you?" I asked.

"I don’t have plans to date, but if I had to answer, I’d say someone older is better than someone too young. Young people usually don’t make great conversation partners. If we can’t communicate well, the relationship wouldn’t be enjoyable."

So as long as they can hold a good conversation, older is fine. Somehow, I didn’t think the Crescent Moon would fit that bill. Not that I’d ever met her. But anyway, it was a surprisingly wholesome view on relationships.

"What about appearance? A human-like form is better, right? What about tentacles? As long as they don’t show them, it should be fine, right?"

Tentacles seem to be trendy. Myungwoo, don’t let the Newbie get to you. I’m worried about you.

"How human does their form have to be? Are animal ears, horns, or wings acceptable? I guess you’d prefer two arms and two legs? You don’t seem like the type to discriminate based on skin color. Blue or red—ouch!"

Sung Hyunje, who had been watching me closely, suddenly grabbed my ear and twisted it. Since he didn’t do it hard enough to cause injury, Grace didn’t activate.

"I’m not interested in blue or red."

Hmm, maybe I went too far. 

Rubbing my twisted ear, I almost stumbled as I jumped off the desk, but Sung Hyunje quickly caught me. I’d left my umbrella behind, but I declined his offer to carry me and just let him support me as we walked over to the restaurant. I could see Yoohyun and myself in the open kitchen.

"Where’s the seaweed?" I asked.

"There." 

The other me pointed to a bowl filled with water. It was soaking nicely.

"Sung Hyunje-ssi, would you go cover the entrance with some fabric?"

"There’s still time, so I’ll stay here. I’ll have to separate you if you start roughing each other up again," Sung Hyunje replied.

"We’re not going to fight."

We’re not kids. After washing my hands, I picked up a kitchen knife to slice the meat, and Yoohyun glanced at me nervously. Even Sung Hyunje, sitting at a table outside the kitchen, seemed to be keeping an eye on me. I’m not going to stab anyone.

"Yoohyun, you can go sit down."

"No, hyung. It’s hard for you to move around. I’ll at least help out. The kitchen’s big enough."

He’s such a good kid. I cut the meat into appropriate sizes and drained the blood. In the meantime, the other me was washing rice.

"Since the electricity’s working, does the rice cooker work too? How many people does this serve?"

"It’s a restaurant, so probably a lot. There are some mixed grains here—should we add them?"

"You already know the answer."

Our thought process was the same, after all. Where’s the sesame oil?

"Why did you buy snacks? That’s why you’re like that," my other self said.

"I bought them for the kids!"

"I heard you’ve been scrounging snacks everywhere you go."

Y-Yoohyun, you told him…? My little brother avoided my gaze.

"And that you’ve been hanging out with Hunter Park Yerim, Hunter Kang Soyoung, and even the Breaker Guild Leader, going around eating sweets. Living the good life, huh, Han Yoojin?"

"That’s not—it wasn’t even my idea! And Noah was there too. Honestly, it’s better than al— uh…"

I couldn’t say it was better than drinking alcohol, not with Yoohyun watching me. Damn it! That bastard abused his body to the limit too! Sensing my frustration, the other me smirked mockingly.

"You unlucky bastard!"

"My luck is your luck."

"That’s true."

We both had rotten luck. We laughed at the same time.

"Life has been rough."

"But things were good before the dungeons appeared."

"It was tough, but yeah, it was good."

We both turned to Yoohyun at the same time. He reflexively smiled back at us.

"I guess one punch wouldn’t have been enough," my other self said.

"So you pulled out a knife instead and attacked like you were trying to kill me."

"If you couldn’t dodge something like that even after regressing, you deserve to die. It’s a recognition of experience."

"Why are you acting like you expected me to dodge it? If I were in your shoes, I’d have stabbed to kill."

"Are you asking me to stab you now?"

"Can’t you see how worried Yoohyun is? Let’s just fight with our bare hands. And hey, add more rice. There’s not enough for everyone."

"I’m used to living alone."

Yeah, you were. As he went to get more rice, my other self deliberately stepped on my foot, so I kicked him in the shin in return. My other self groaned and grabbed a kitchen knife.

"Hyung! No weapons!"

Sung Hyunje also got up from his seat. My other self put down the knife and picked up the lobster from the sink, throwing it at me. Because of his higher rank, it flew at me with alarming speed, but Yoohyun grabbed it in mid-air and placed it back on the counter.

"Don’t throw food! You bastard!" I shouted.

"It’s because you buy food this expensive that you’re so full of yourself!"

"It was free!"

"So, you’ve never eaten lobster before?"

"That’s not the point. Just wash more rice."

Being the same person, we worked well together. Too well, in fact, since we ended up grabbing each other by the collar a few more times, though no actual stabbing occurred. I knew I shouldn’t be doing this in front of my little brother, but honestly, it felt good. Yoohyun seemed to notice that I was getting along with myself better than expected and eventually relaxed.

The rice finished cooking, the seaweed soup was simmering, and as sunset drew near, we sensed someone in the hotel lobby.

[bestygogirl]

BEST YGO GIRL: SEMI FINALS

Match 2

please use this as an opportunity to say why you like a character, not why you don't.

Propaganda under the cut!

Isis Ishtar

gorgeous, very caring sister, strong duelist, and the only woman to ever make Seto Kaiba squirm

anyways. not only as mentioned above is she the first woman to make kaiba squirm, but she was by all means going to beat him if not for the millennium rod's millennium interference. yami marik admits that she's a strong duelist with a strategy that's been working for literal years-- and given that she's not like, a professional duelist, thats pretty impressive

she also recently got some really cool meta bumps and let me point out that an "ishizu deck" now includes obelisk the tormentor-- which we knew she had prior to giving it to kaiba, but i think it only solidifies my opinion that she very much could wield an Egyptian God Card, an exclusive little club for top tier duelists

as a character she presents herself with an amazing amount of poise and grace, shes compassionate and kind and stays with mai and serenity even though she only just met them. shes struggling through living the past 5 years of her life drowning in guilt for her family's tragedy just because she wanted to make her little brother happy and shadi is a fucking liar. shes foretold her own death and marches towards it grimly but with so much love in her heart. and even then shes 20 years old and holds an important position in the egyptian government that typically requires a doctorate degree AND has been dealing with mariks off-and-on bullshit entirely by her lonesome. she also likes to flex her fortunetelling a little which is awesome i think she should do that more that scene where she tells the guy exactly how the stele is being transported was so everything

speaking of shes got such an attitude. "is it your destiny to waste my time?" iconic. never seen before will never be seen again. watch the duel between her va and joeys its so fucking funny

shes excult. shes doesnt flinch in the face of god nor death. seto kaiba and yami marik respect her. shes so sad and so sweet and battle city couldnt have happened without her.

also her parallels with kaiba are what motivate kaiba to give yugi the card he needed to beat marik.

kaiba, in duelist kingdom, was ready to jump off a ledge if yugi didnt let him through to face pegasus while trying to save mokuba out of sheer desperation to save his little brother. he KNOWS what that dedication feels like and the iron kind of will you need to have to make that kind of gamble. isis is being so fucking legit with what shes saying and he respects that and her judgement enough to change his mind and not only watch the duel, but give yugi a card that eventually helps him win, even if he has no real confidence in the odds. but theres a CHANCE, which is the same thing he taught her when he beat her in a duel. the layers its her faith that moves him to act. which is so crazy

anyway vote isis shes my best friend forever and a real rep for all the 20 year olds who honest to god did not sign up for this bullshit

Aki Izayoi

An abuse victim who isn't the perfect passive figure but gets to work through her complicated feelings about power, agency, and family. Even with Yusei's help, she is the star of the show when she learns to control her powers and reconciles with her father, it is so fun that a ygo heroine gets to take such an antagonistic role bu not be shamed for her anger

please vote for my main girl, aki izayoi. aki was led to believe she was a monster from a young age by her father, who treated her powers like it made her unworthy of love. as a result, divine was able to swoop in and take advantage of aki's low self esteem. for years, aki believed herself unworthy of love and was molded into a living weapon at the hands of authority figures in her life. she was taken advantage of, and thus when she finally comes face to face with yusei, she refuses to believe he could provide her with unconditional friendship. who would want to be around a monster, after all?

aki also nearly beats yusei TWICE in a duel, bringing it down to a single turn difference. she comes toe to toe with him, and it truly is the result of who dueled better. she remains a fierce duelist, btw. the second season, aki gets her duel runner license, and immediately nearly beats the ass of a tournament winning turbo duelist - to the point where once again, a single card is the deciding factor. that's right: she nearly won. if not for a single trap card, aki izayoi would've won.

a fierce duelist who was shaped into a loving, caring woman despite years of being beaten down by the world: aki izayoi. vote for her now on your phones.

[sapphic-agent]

I think my biggest argument against Bakugou stans insistence that none of his awful behavior is his fault and that he has amazing character development is this: you have to WANT to change in order to actually change.

I won't deny that his teachers and society in general played a part in making him the person that he is today, but people love forgetting that Bakugou could have chosen to not behave the way he behaves. In my previous post, I talked about how he could have actually reflected on how and why he got kidnapped, why he was being criticized by the media, and why he failed the PHL exam. He could have realized that 1B and 1C hate 1A just because they're associated with him and his arrogance.

Instead, he just projects his own insecurities on Izuku and acts like just because he has not just a Quirk, but a "hErOiC qUiRk" (god I hate that so much), he's entitled to treat people - Izuku especially - like dirt. He throws a tantrum because Izuku gets a Quirk. He throws a tantrum because he lost against Izuku in the Battle Trials. He throws a tantrum because Uraraka put up a damn good fight against him. He throws a tantrum because Todoroki didn't fight him at his full power. He throws a tantrum when he's being taken back to camp during the Training Camp Arc. He throws a tantrum when the rescue team finds him. He throws a tantrum when he fails the PHL exam. He throws a tantrum when he finds out about Izuku having OFA.

And even after this supposed #bigmoment for him, he STILL acts the same as before. He offers absolutely nothing to the table during the OFA meetings except for his obnoxious arrogance, he's STILL an asshole to civilians when that's precisely why he failed the fucking exam in the first place. Instead of realizing that his treatment of Izuku is one of the main reasons why he left UA and sees himself as worthless, he blames ALL MIGHT of all people and completely absolves himself of any and all responsibility. He completely brushes past how and why he "looked down on Izuku" and gives a surface level apology... before acting exactly how he did before. He even has the nerve to make Izuku losing OFA all about him.

Bakugou doesn't want to change, so he doesn't see behavior as wrong. No one around him sees his behavior as wrong either, which just adds to it. And in arguing that Bakugou isn't responsible for his behavior, it takes agency away from him and his non-existent "growth".

Honestly, there are a million and one ways Bakugou's development could have been improved. But for me, just keeping him more aware of his actions and reflecting on them would have been enough. Him making the conscious effort not to be a dick would have shown he's actually changing and wants to improve.

But no, Bakugou doesn't see fit to change because no one makes him. He can't take the criticism from others to heart because people- Aizawa, Kirishima, Uraraka, and even Izuku and All Might- are there refuting it. How is he supposed to improve when the people around him are defending and condoning his awful behavior? How is he supposed to realize how bad his actions were when the narrative is using other characters to downplay them?

(Having Uraraka of all people defend him in the light novels was such a weird choice. I talked about it and mentioned it to @doodlegirl1998 before, but it's clear throughout the fight that Bakugou still looked down on her. Her not being able to recognize that and turning into one of his props was such a slap in the face to her character. She's one of the main victims of bad writing in the manga and having her agency stripped even more is just insult to injury. She deserved so much more)

Bakugou is, at his core, entitled. He felt entitled to treat torment Izuku. He felt entitled to know how Izuku had a quirk. He felt entitled to face Todoroki's fire. He felt entitled to know about OFA. Bakugou's character centers around this thinking that he can get his way no matter what, and then throws a temper tantrum when that doesn't happen.

This literally persists to the very last moment because he's currently devastated that Izuku lost OFA, when he's not the victim here. How fucking self-centered do you have to be when your so-called friend lost an important part of himself and he has to comfort you about it because for some reason you're acting like you were the one that was hurt?

Bakugou constantly makes everything about himself and the narrative not only enables that, it perpetuates it

[yuri-is-online]

@karmablacks I'm technically studying law so I got too defense brained thinking about this :/ right anyway. When accusing someone of murder you must consider, did they have the means? The motive? The opportunity? Of the five persons of interest MC finds listed, I think all of them made that short list because they have the means to have committed a murder. That leaves motive and opportunity, which leads me to be comfortable excluding Alan, wanting more information on Jiro, Towa, and Ed, and ambivalent about Rui.

Excluding Alan

Alan specifically says he thinks that he killed Dante during the Clash, unless Dante was the victim of the One Eyed Sleeping Beauty Murder (which I will henceforth be abbreviating as OES murder because fuck typing all that) then I see no reason he would not have said as much during Episodes 2 and 5. If he started the Clash then I think that would factor into his guilt and weigh on him immensely, it would be something he thinks about regularly. Dante does not only have one eye, he's got four and we know from Haku that multiple people went past the point of no return during the Clash. We are looking at a murder that specifically started a war, not one that resulted from it.

Profile Jiro

We know the least about him out of everyone on the list, but there is just enough to understand why he's there. He was in a coma for a very long time and still hasn't healed, if he is on the suspect list presumably he was not in a coma during the murder but might have entered it after. His combat skills are good enough to protect Yuri who has none, he has multiple wounds on his body that aren't closing, and he outright refuses to spar with Luca on the basis of it being a "bad idea." I am very comfortable with him having the means to commit a murder, the question is whether or not he would have seen it as a murder. One of his first voicelines is about "giving them death because that is what they wanted." If he did kill our victim, there is a chance it was a mercy kill that other parties disagreed on, hence the Clash.

Also did you catch the bloody gloves he's holding in the teaser? I did, it made me wonder if we will learn more about the murder in the next Episode.

Profile Towa

He would have been a first year during the Clash, meaning that while he might not be new to life he was new to Darkwick and we have all seen how he acts towards new people he doesn't like. Haru felt the need to tell him not to use lightning underwater, he's not exactly the most familiar with how to treat things gently and with care. Sure, Towa is currently interested in romance and love, but Ed accuses him of not always being that way and refusing to see anything weaker than him as having value. We don't know why that changed, and until we do he remains someone who wouldn't necessarily need a specific motive for murder and has the powers to kill someone. The main problem with Towa is that if he was the person who murdered the victim, his method would be very easy to identify. He controls the weather and likes poisonous flowers, we need to know how the victim died before we can determine how strong or weak of a suspect Towa is.

Profile Ed

This bitch has been technically undead for 400 + slutty slutty years, and the one time he stopped watching tiddy streamers to help Rui with a mission he leveled an entire building. Chances are pretty good he's killed someone before and wouldn't have a problem doing it again. This is where we look at motive and opportunity, Ed is really only ever active at night and claims he cannot go out into the sun. Was our victim murdered during the day? Then that makes it less likely to be Ed. There is technically a difference between just killing someone and murdering them, murder implies a degree of intent. You wanted that person to be dead, who would Ed have enough of a vendetta against to actually want dead? And was our victim someone who would fit that description?

Ambivalence about Rui

Rui kills people by touching them and draining their life force. Based off of what we see he does to Ed and the butterfly on the homescreen, it looks like this causes them to disintegrate. While I have no doubt that Rui has killed people on accident before, is this case really one where that's what could have happened? From what we have seen of him I don't think he is someone who would have the motive to murder someone. Means and opportunity sure, not motive. But again, as with Towa, how can he be under the same level of suspicion as the others if his would be method of murder is so specific? I could see him as the murderer if it was an accident, and it's one of the reasons he feels the need to repent. Which rounds out my thoughts and brings me to:

What I Want to Know

I want the name, year, and age of the victim, when they died (estimated), and the suspected cause of death. Also why is this murder called what it is, why did it cause the Clash, and most importantly:

What could have possibly happened to that body that your suspect list has such a wide variety of possible murder methods, or are Darkwick investigators just that dumb and afraid of ghouls that they immediately accused who they think are the five most dangerous (in no particular order) without taking any of that into account? And is that murder what Taiga, Tohma, and Alan all are talking about when they say there is a spy intent on making the ghouls look bad?

[vikkirosko]

Hi! I wanted to send in a request again because I absolutely LOVED what you wrote for my request I sent not to long ago :D also if you don’t wanna do this then you can delete it! no pressure! here I go!

Could I request (Platonic) Charlie Morningstar, Vaggie, Alastor, Angel Dust, Husk, Niffty, Sir Pentious and Possibly Lucifer with a GN! Reader who acts and looks exactly like Cutthroat from Akudama Drive?

This is just a brief description of how he acts even though I put the link in, he’s very obsessed with the color “Red”, if he see anything that’s red he gets very excited, and if one of the crew members have a red halo around their head (which only the reader can see) boy I’ll be praying for them because the reader will not let go of them at all!! (I was thinking Alastor to have the red halo, so maybe it can be romantic for Alastor instead?)

Thank you so much!

Partially platonic headcanons Cutthroat

🌈 Charlie Morningstar x gn!Reader 🎶

Charlie was glad to see every new guest in her hotel, so when you came there she was sincerely glad, especially looking at you, so unusual and friendly. You had white hair, purple eyes, pale skin and white clothes. You were friendly and sometimes childish. Charlie understood that since you were in Hell, it means you were far from as innocent as you seemed at first glance, but she wanted to believe that you sincerely wanted to atone for your sins

She was trying to get to know you better and you weren't trying to hide anything from her. You told her that you dreamed of finding the person who was destined for you. You claimed that this person would have a red halo, although only you have seen these halos, but so far you have not met such a person. When Charlie asked you why the halo should be red, you told her that red is the most beautiful color, and especially the bright scarlet color of blood, which you loved so much. At that moment, Charlie realized that it was your love of red that led you to Hell. You were a killer who liked the sight of the victims' blood

You didn't hurt those who were in the hotel, but several times you went for a walk and came back covered in blood. Charlie understood that you had killed someone, and she tried to use rehabilitation exercises to help you stop doing that, but you had absolutely no remorse for either the old murders or the new ones. Charlie understood that it would be difficult to deal with this, but she was not going to give up

Charlie hoped that if you met the person with the red halo, you would stop killing. When she suggested it, you just smiled, not confirming her words but not denying them either. Charlie sincerely believed that even you, whose hands were up to the elbows in blood, would be able to atone for your sins and go to Heaven

❌ Vaggie x gn!Reader 🎀

When you came to the hotel, Vaggie didn't feel a drop of trust in you, even though Charlie welcomed you into the hotel with open arms. Vaggie has been watching you from a distance. You stood out among the sinners. You had white hair, pale skin, unusual eye color, and white clothes. You were friendly and sometimes childish. Vaggie didn't trust you. She expected a trick from you no less than from Alastor, even though Charlie told her that you were not dangerous

Vaggie continued to be wary of you and when you were alone she told you bluntly that she didn't trust you and that if you tried to harm the others in the hotel she wouldn't let you do it. She expected to see surprise, but the only thing her words caused was your laughter. You told her that you had no reason to harm those who lived in the hotel, and if you wanted to see the beautiful, red blood, you would find another place to do it

You didn't hide that you were attracted to the color red. You got excited about everything that was red, and especially the sight of blood. However, you weren't going to destroy this corner of peace that you had found, so you told her not to tell about it. It wasn't a request. You told her bluntly that if she destroyed your corner of tranquility, then you would show that her blood was not a beautiful red color

Vaggie didn't know how you knew she was an angel. You saw the confusion on her face perfectly well and told her it was all about the halo. No one else had one, even though her halo wasn't red. Vaggie didn't understand what you were talking about, but you told her that you intended to protect the hotel and that as long as you were on the same side, she could trust you. She wasn't sure about that, but Vaggie didn't seem to have any other option

🕷 Angel Dust x gn!Reader 💖

When you started living at the Hotel, Angel tried to communicate with you. You were unusual not only because of your appearance, but also because of your childish, friendly nature. You didn't mind talking to him, treating him as a friend, but sometimes Angel had the feeling that something was wrong with you. He didn't fully understand the reason for this, but sometimes he got the feeling that you could be dangerous

Angel was convinced that his intuition did not deceive him when he saw you in the alley when he was returning to the hotel. Your white clothes were heavily stained with blood, and you looked with delight at the blood and dead bodies spreading on the ground. Angel thought you were fighting, but when he got closer, he felt something frightening. You looked at him with a smile and asked him if he would like to see such beautiful red blood too

He realized that you were a brutal killer. You didn't perceive other people's deaths as something that could make you sad. You liked the color red, including the color of blood, and you didn't really hide it if it wasn't necessary. However, seeing his concern, you told Angel that you did not intend to harm anyone at the hotel, because they were your friends. Your only goal was to find the person who was destined for you, but Angel didn't have to worry, because his halo wasn't red. He didn't understand what you were talking about, but he hoped that he really had nothing to worry about

You continued to act friendly, as if nothing had happened, but Angel found it difficult to treat you as lightly as before. He still remembered your image, stained with blood, and sometimes it seemed to him that a little more and you would massacre the hotel, but perhaps, on the other hand, the fact that you considered him your friend was even good. It was definitely better than if you considered him your enemy

📻 Alastor x gn!Reader 🎙

Alastor has been watching you since the day you came to the hotel. You were friendly and stood out from Hell with your white clothes, white hair, pale skin and unusual eye color. You attracted people with your unusual appearance and childlike friendly nature, but Alastor felt that it was just a mask, and your gaze directed at him only confirmed his guesses. It was like you were worried every time he was around, but not out of fear. It was like you were in awe of him, even though you didn't say it openly

At first, he was told that the reason for your behavior was that you were fixated on the color red. Alastor wasn't bothered by the fact that you often followed him around. You didn't violate his personal boundaries, but you were always there, and it would seem that if someone tried to get too close to Alastor, then you could easily attack this person, which seemed even funny to him. That was until you told him that it wasn't just about the color red

You told him that even before you were in Hell, you saw halos that surrounded people and your goal was to find a man with a red halo. And you finally found him. It was Alastor. You were sure that he was destined for you. You were so in love with him that you were ready to shed someone else's blood for him. You loved him so much that you were ready to kill him with your own hands. You spoke more than sincerely, and Alastor, listening to you, felt some kind of gloomy satisfaction

Alastor saw that you were serious. You were ready to take the life of anyone at one whisper. You clearly had experience in murder, and Alastor couldn't help but take advantage of your strong loyalty to him. Alastor liked to see your loving gaze, and the fact that you were willing to go to great lengths to protect him further flattered his ego

🧹 Niffty x gn!Reader ❤

From the first day you met, you attracted the attention of Niffty. Outwardly, you seemed friendly and completely harmless. You had white hair, pale skin, white clothes and your unusual eye color seemed to fascinate others. However, for some reason Niffty liked you. She called you bad boy and often spent time with you, which made it clear to others that you were not as kind as you seemed at first glance

You didn't hide from Niffty that you were a murderer. You liked her and you didn't hide from her your thoughts that you would like to see beautiful, red splashes of blood. You loved the color red and you killed a lot of people before you died yourself. Niffty saw that spark in you and that's what attracted her. You reminded her of Alastor in some way

You told Niffty that you dreamed of finally meeting the person you've been looking for for a second life. You were looking for a person who would have a red halo. You were the only one who saw these halos and was sure that you had to find the red halo. Niffty, giggling, told you that maybe the owner of the red halo was destined for you. You assumed that this was the case, but so far you have not found this person

Niffty enjoyed spending time with you. She considered you her friend and didn't worry about your love of red, blood and cruelty. She wanted to see that beautiful red blood, like flowers, that you were talking about. Niffty was sure that it would really be something beautiful

🃏 Husk x gn!Reader 🥃

You and Husk have known each other for a long time. When you first met, he sensed some kind of trick from you. You were too friendly to actually be like that. You stood out from Hell with your appearance. You had white hair, pale skin, unusual-colored eyes, and white clothes. You were childish, friendly, and too friendly for the bartender's taste. And at some point he realized exactly what was wrong with you. You were a killer who was obsessed with the color red and who didn't have the slightest remorse

At the hotel, you were friendly towards the rest of the hotel's residents, including Husk. You called him your old friend, to which Husk himself just rolled his eyes. He knew a lot about you and made sure you didn't do anything out of the ordinary. He saw how Charlie, Angel, and Sir Pentious treated you at the hotel without the slightest suspicion. You were popular with people who didn't know what Husk knew about you, and you seemed to be trusted by others. You did not harm others, so Husk was in no hurry to do anything

One late evening, you were sitting with Husk and told him that you wanted to tell him one of your secrets, since he was your friend. Husk did not have time to answer you, as you, in a confidential whisper, told him that you were looking for someone in Hell who had a scarlet halo. You were sure that it was in Hell that you could find such a person. Husk didn't know why you wanted to find this person, but he doubted that the reason for this was benevolent

Husk wasn't sure if you could be called a friend or even an ally. He didn't know at what point you would take it into your head to harm anyone, but for now he kept you close. He didn't know how strong you were in battle, but as long as you were on the same side, Husk didn't start being hostile to you

🐍Sir Pentious x gn!Reader 🎩

Your first meeting with Sir Pentious took place on Pentagram City Street. His Egg Boiz stopped, looking at you with great curiosity. Sir Pentious hurried to you to pick them up, but he also froze, looking at you mesmerized. You stood out from other sinners with your white hair, pale skin, white clothes and unusual eye color. You were squatting and looking at Egg Boiz with childish curiosity. At that meeting, you seemed to him quite a friendly person, even unusual, but he was really surprised when he met you again at the hotel

You were one of the hotel guests and Sir Pentious was glad to see a familiar face. He often tried to spend time with you and he enjoyed talking to you. You've often been friendly, and almost childish. He could call you his friend, even though he saw that you had some oddities. You were fixated on the color red. This color made you nervous and you told him several times about how often you tried to see red before you died. You shed a lot of blood, which made it clear to him that you were a murderer, but there were a lot of murderers in Hell, even though Sir Pentious was surprised, because you looked so innocent

Several times you accompanied him on a hike to the city and then you were attacked, but it all ended before Sir Pentious had time to realize anything. He saw you kill those who attacked you with a calm expression on your face, then looked at him with a smile and asked him if he wanted to look at the beautiful blood. At that moment, Sir Pentious realized that the fact that you are not his enemy was even a good thing. You might not have been an overlord, but you were dangerous and it was obvious

Sir Pentious sometimes forgot how dangerous you were. You were pleasant to talk to, you often admired the beauty of Hell, even though you said that red was the only really beautiful color. Despite all your oddities, he liked you and was glad that he had a friend like you

🍎 Lucifer Morningstar x gn!Reader 🐍

Lucifer and you met at the hotel where you lived. He felt that you were looking at him, but he didn't understand the reason for that. Charlie told her father that you had some oddities, including a slight fixation on the color red. It was especially contrasting, considering that you yourself had white hair, pale skin, purple eyes and usually wore white clothes. Despite your oddities, Lucifer couldn't quite take you seriously, and the reason for that was your friendly, almost childish behavior

When Lucifer was making apple pancakes, you came to the kitchen. You looked at him again, and then focused your attention on the red apples that he used for cooking. Lucifer missed the moment when you took a knife and easily pierced an apple. Lucifer looked at you with a shocked look, to which you, with an innocent smile, told him that you love red apples. At that moment, he was sure that you really should be taken seriously, otherwise it could be dangerous. You became a frequent guest in the kitchen, mostly because you were bored. It was there that you told him that you were telling the truth about yourself. You told him that you very often admired the blood you shed during the murders back when you were human

Despite the fact that you could clearly be dangerous, you were popular among sinners. Lucifer heard from the others that you were getting a lot of attention. Perhaps the reason for this was that you stood out a lot because of your appearance. Maybe you could have brought more guests to the hotel, but his daughter didn't want to use the hotel guests to attract new people. Lucifer saw that you were more interested in Charlie because of the red elements of her clothes, so Lucifer tried to turn your attention to himself, not wanting you to harm his daughter. He didn't trust you enough to trust his child's safety

He didn't know exactly what happened to you and at what point something went wrong, but as long as you didn't harm the hotel's inhabitants, he was completely satisfied with it. Sometimes it was nice to talk to you, and maybe if the rehabilitation exercises help you, communication with you will become even easier and more enjoyable, but in the meantime, he was watching you, thinking about what happened to you earlier, when you were alive