#and just so you know the only character i hate in this show is fucking maddie fuck her i'm glad she died
Explore tagged Tumblr posts
Text
đď¸ emperor caracalla ; headcanons ââđŁËđ¤ Ý・â˝
content warning: fem!reader. mentions of blood, killing and sickness, cheating, possessiveness, toxicity. idk if thereâs anything else.
word count: 0.7k
authorâs note: first time writing headcanons, so constructive criticism is welcomed. and english is my third language so please bear with me. i apologize for any mistake đđť also, iâm unlocking a new obsession, so i needed to write for caracalla asap. iâm gonna write for other fred characters too because that man has me down bad. thatâs it! enjoyyy! <3
emperor caracalla is a menace with an insane duality and you know that better than anyone
we have 1) mad ruler with an insatiable thirst for blood
you ALWAYS go to the games
he demands wants you there with him
(not like you have much choice being married to him)
but still, he loves to know youâre there. mostly because he actually enjoys sharing his passion and spending time with you. buuut, also because he REALLY likes to show you off. (you love seeing him all giggly clapping and yelling tho)
and let me tell you, he takes every opportunity to do so. to remind everyone that youâre his. and to brag in front of his pretty much unmarried brother.
iâm talking hand rubbing your thigh when sitting by his side (he does it absentmindedly, itâs genuinely cute), arm around your waist during feasts, sitting on his lap when watching combats, theatre or any sort of entertainment and a ton of PDA.
both of them are possessive, but he is more subtle, not as straightforward
regarding Geta, you two have an⌠odd relationship. heâs thankful thereâs someone else to deal with his brotherâs madness. but heâs suspicious of your intentions. tho jealous.
some would even say not only of the marriage itselfâŚ
caracalla knows, and absolutely feeds on it. he finally has something that belongs to him and only him
god forbid someone doesnât get it
Dondus has grown to adore you. youâre like his other parent -heâs adopted you as such.
squeaks at you and happily climbs your arm to rest on your shoulder
loves using your braids as little ladders
and snuggling against your neck too
heâs just so cute can u tell i love him :3
anyways
and 2) sappy child
he follows you around like a puppy
you hate it when he gets overwhelmed, he tends to hide and isolate himself
you end up acting like his mother
gets insecure of his real face and keeps it from you
needs a lot of reassurance
the guards always look for you when he has an outburst
your touch and presence are the only things that ground him
LOVES LOVES LOVES cuddling
clings to you like he needs you to breathe
good luck waking up in the middle of the night to go to the bathroom đ
play with his hair and heâs GONE
big on pet names
to you is always âmy loveâ âmy dearâ âmy darlingâ âmy wifeâ âmy empressâ
emphasis on the âmyâ
everythingâs fine with him but âsweet boyâ makes him melt
and obviously âmy emperorâ cause it makes him feel powerful
and compliments too
spoils and pampers the shit out of you
jewels, clothes, animals, entertainers, you name it
absolutely whipped
loves kissing
now, it canât all be a fairytale đ
sometimes you feel like he loves Dondus more than you
and it seems that some men being forced to kill each other brings him more happiness than you ever could
he can switch from sad to angry in a matter of seconds and sometimes his sudden change of tone and expressions startles you
đŠ đŠđŠ
being married to a sick man is hard
many palace servants and guards feel bad for you
paranoid
thinks you donât love him anymore and are going to leave him quite often
obsessive
if you say something that feels âoffâ to him get ready for an intense interrogation
possessive and extremely jealous
cause why the fuck where you laughing with some random man?
heâd threaten to kill him and would probably get rough with you
hates other people touching you
gets violent
has hurt you before during one of his fits
regrets it afterwards but has a hard time apologizing
would probably be unfaithful. i know, i hate it too đĽ˛
over all i think he wouldnât be that bad of a husband, like it could be way worse
and i say he could genuinely love you, it just wouldnât be the healthiest of loves
but you can try to fix him girl â¨â¨
#Spotify#gladiator 2#gladiator ii#gladiator fanfiction#emperor caracalla#caracalla x reader#gladiator caracalla#caracalla x you#caracalla headcanons#fred hechinger#fred hechinger x reader#fred hechinger x you#gladiator 2 headcanons#gladiator ii headcanons
150 notes
¡
View notes
Text
Can I just say that I really fucking HATE how the majority of the Arcane fandom praising Season 2 is deeply in the mindset of Piltover in reality? Like, it's not even funny, and I don't know where to begin.
I'll just start with Silco because he's this huge metaphorical character who is clearly written as the embodiment of a long list of sociopolitical agendas in the real world. And before I start, pardon my English, since it's not my first language.
I know y'all in the Anglo-American sphere tend to focus more on classism, inequality and police brutality theme. But the way I see it, THAT and every single dialogue plus the specific word choice of Silco & Sevika literally SCREAMS of postcolonial discourse (I guess F. Fanon is most well-known to y'all) and even some part of M. Foucault's philosophy, etc. I'm writing "etc." because the list will go on forever if I describe all these creepy historical parallels between the depiction of Zaun's internal conflict and what real countries that have been (or still are) colonies went through, and what real colonizer propaganda looked like during that timeâlike how those characters who fight for the nation's independence are the big bad villain and psychotic monsters who need "redemption arc" therapy, while those who cooperate with the oppressors are the good-hearted familial heroes of this story.
So upon reflection, if this fandom were to be a collective intelligence, we should have asked ourselves, "Is this show truly not problematic for portraying such a character as villainous?" and thus, "Is this show thematically implying far-right propaganda?" even before Season 2 presented us with this insane plot that glamorized the militaristic fascist aristocrat proclaiming martial law as a 'romantic revenge arc'.
But what did the majority of the fandom do since 2022? They were so busy shitting on this dead villain, claiming he has done so much wrong that he doesn't even deserve to be praised as a character. So instead of trying to understand where this character's point of view is coming from, they blindly hate him to the point where they are now fabricating a list of crimes that he didn't even commit, editing false information on the fandom wiki profile.
What's more frustrating to me is that I thought the problem was media illiteracy all along, but oh no, I was being way more optimistic than the reality. Now that Iâve read all these interviews from the showrunner and main writerâLinke and OvertonâI get the sense of why Season 2 turned out like that. The more they babble on about this show, the clearer it becomes that they don't even acknowledge how messed up their political views are, which are so far-right. Taking the seemingly-centrist line doesn't make you fair, you're just passively siding with the oppressors. And lesbian sex scene doesn't make this show "progressive", in fact, hiding oppressor fantasy behind a rainbow flag makes it even more treacherous.
So yeah, I think critical voices should be much louder than this, but watching the majority of this fandom neglacting problems only to praise the show? I think my hope for humanity kind of get lost more and more as time passes, lol.
#arcane#arcane season 2#arcane critical#arcane criticism#arcane writing#arcane thematic problem#silco#vander#jinx#vi#sevika#ekko#caitlyn
98 notes
¡
View notes
Text
I'm thinking this idea so hard that I definitely have to write it down, but shit!! It's hard for me to capture Shen Yuan's chaotic vibes in a good narrative way
So it begins like this: Shen Yuan transmigrates. Not into Shen Qingqiu. He opens his eyes and there are two massive tits crushing him, a luxurious room, a garish and bitchy System with kaomojis. Well, he's a wife. A Binghe's wife.
Shen Yuan wants to run away, obviously. Get his penis back, get his MASCULINE MALE MANTASTIC body back, and get as far away from Binghe and the harem and their shitty dramas as possible. He doesn't need that, no thanks. The System obviously doesn't let him. [ You're a wife, user!!! You must behave like the original goods until you collect enough points to unlock the OOC!! ]
And the shit begins. Little harem dramas. Uncovering clues like silly children's puzzles. Shen yuan is fed up, bored, moody, hated by many wives (apparently the original goods were not in good standing. Half-demon, which is good- more power and more strength when escaping!!, but not for a harem wife. Especially since that body is 5'10" and is strong as a sword instead of submissive and bendable like the other sweet wives).
Even though the System keeps putting him in shitty situations, the truth is that there is no trace of Binghe during the first week. Nor the second. By the third, Shen Yuan gets a little worried. According to the current storyline, he shouldn't be far away... No wars, no new wives, just a missing Binghe. Shen Yuan snoops around Binghe's office with such bad luck that Binghe definitely shows up at that moment.
And Binghe looks... Tired. He's tired and grumpy, treating the wife with ice-cold kindness, and Shen Yuan treats him back. It's not that he wants to! It's not that he's offended to see his favorite and be horrible to him! It's the fucking shitty System! If Shen Yuan could, he would be on his knees before Binghe being pathetic and pitiful to ensure his protection!!
But he can't. Binghe sends him away after a cold and hostile encounter and Shen Yuan runs away in a dignified manner (running after the corridor where Binghe can't see him anymore is different).
The next morning, Shen Yuan makes a plan: he will do whatever it takes to get his last damn twenty points to activate OOC mode and get the hell out. Nope, no more Binghe for him. One taste was enough. Thanks but no thanks.
What gets complicated is when one of Binghe's personal servants!!! goes to his room. Binghe is inviting this lady wife to have breakfast with him. And Shen Yuan... He can't say no. Partly because of the System, partly because of the ambition for points, partly because he wants to try Binghe's food. And because he wants to... see Binghe. Again. He's his favorite, okay, don't judge him, maybe Binghe was just tired and being hostile to him. The duties of an Emperor are many and Shen Yuan was invading his private territory. Aaaaand he's a wife, after all, he can't treat him like that aaaaaall the time...
Binghe's breakfast is a delight. In his month at the palace, he has eaten nothing more delicious. Binghe is darkly charming: Shen Yuan asks about her (him), how she (he) is, how she (he) has been. Shen Yuan learns two things: the original goods had only been in the harem for a month and week when Shen Yuan usurped his body, and Luo Binghe doesn't know much about his wife, which means he can improvise answers without losing his in-character personality. The System even gives him +5 points for improvising!!
... +5 points that go to hell when Luo Binghe exposes a scroll on the table. Written in the original goods handwriting... it's a divorce application!!
"I was in my office" says Binghe as the System takes 50 points from him of a blow.
Of course Binghe is going to be wrong now. Of course he is believing that Shen Yuan filed for divorce the day before, when he found him in his office!! Damn original goods, why divorce Binghe!? Does divorce even exist in PIDW!? WHY!?
Shen Yuan makes up excuses, loses at least 20 more points, makes up more things again and sadly crawls with only 15 points in his favor and a rather furious Binghe.
Why does this wife want to abandon Binghe? This emperor has been kind, does this wife want something different? Shen Yuan makes up that he never imagined being married to an absent husband, capable of making him feel so lonely in a nest of other lonely women... And Binghe seems genuinely affected by it. Ah, loneliness, the weapon Binghe knows firsthand. An isolated and caring newcomer, being mocked and humiliated by others, seeking to remain resilient. Binghe, this one promises that he didn't use your past traumas on purpose!!
Binghe promises that he will change her (his) mind. He will be a present husband and make her (him) feel comfortable. Which makes Shen Yuan's escape plans go to fuckin hell. Bye bye, xianxia male body! Hello, another weeks of back pain from huge boobs!
And Binghe delivers on his promise, unfortunately. What's it costing you to be a normal man and forget your promises every day, damn protagonist!!
Shen Yuan wakes up with breakfast from Binghe, continues his day with walks with Binghe, ends his afternoon with dinner with Binghe, and dodges the papapa like a champ. Binghe is patient, considerate. Their conversations are charming, but Shen Yuan can see him... Sad. There is an old braid in his hair and deep dark circles under his eyes. Binghe looks exhausted, wasted, and when he thinks Shen Yuan isn't looking, his face shows so much sorrow that Shen Yuan wants to comfort him.
There's not much he can say. Get some random points - holding Binghe's hand at the right moment, discussing an important point about a creature and a hunt, giving recommendations how to best deal with eastern bear demons... Binghe seems to appreciate his company beyond the call of duty, which makes Shen Yuan a little proud. He's spending time with his favorite fictional boy without screwing up.
Then his body gets sick.
Xianxia World! Cultivation! Magic! Nothing? Shen Yuan wakes up with his head spinning like he's just stepped off a roller coaster, vomiting pathetically into an empty vase. The nausea is not getting better. His headache is horrible.
The System offers him to buy a skip plot; it comes out the same points that Shen Yuan has and he has tried hard not to spend them, a ridiculously large amount of points just to avoid a stomach infection. It's hard to complete side quests with the protagonist attached to his hip! Shen Yuan drops the skip plot.
The System insists. If he doesn't skip the plot now, he won't be able to do so in the future. Shen Yuan ignores it again. It's a silly illness. Nothing a little rest won't help.
... a little rest won't make it better.
Shen Yuan is thankful that Luo Binghe is not in the palace on his mission in the east, because he can be fully pathetic. He barely eats, faints from hunger, but as soon as he puts something in his mouth his stomach expels it. Damn demented body, do you want to eat only Binghe's food so much!? Spoiled body.
Shen Yuan sleeps a lot, sobs a lot in pain, growls (his body can growl. It's interesting) to the servants who come to clean, he takes cool showers that relieve his headache, and continues to expel every crumb.
He thinks he was even poisoned. He doesn't let the harem doctors get close. Mostly because he doesn't know them, but also because he remembers a subplot about a doctor who poisoned Binghe's wives to get revenge because Binghe had refused to take his daughter (for reasons that were entirely valid for Shen Yuan: she was a girl of barely twelve years old) in marriage and she had run away from home to avoid the humiliation. The plot ended with the girl hiding in the doctor's basement, who had made everything up, Binghe making a gore chapter out of it to remember the old days, and adopting the little girl to be raised among his many children in the harem... A good subplot for Shen Yuan, without unnecessary papapa even if it was for two chapters and followed by a threesome with massive busty demons.
Shen Yuan doesn't want to take any chances to unlock some gore subplot. So he just endures his nausea and pain until it fades about two weeks later. Suddenly it's bearable. He can snack on fruit and some roasted seeds. Some flavors are still intolerable to him... some smells too. He feels nauseous at the strongest, or even mildest, smells, but if they are too sweet he must run away. And textures on his skin. And tunics squeezing him. And his fucking huge tits hurt. They hurt like, like they're going to burst or break his cleavage. He even believes that from one day to the next they look bigger if that is possible. Wearing clothes is annoying. Having a body is annoying. Is this some fucking PMS that Shen Yuan didn't want to live with?
Wasn't it a ferocious body of a half-demon with a high cultivation level?? Why is he having PMS? He hasn't... bled since he came into this world!
...
. . .
He hasn't bled since he came to that world. The wedding (papapa of the original goods with The Heavenly Pillar) was almost three months ago. Shen Yuan has been occupying that body for almost two months.
...
. . .
That's not fucking happening.
"System, what the hell!?"
[ User was given the opportunity to buy a skip plot! User rejected it!!! (â  â âšâ â˝â âšâ  â ) Congratulations on making it through the first trimester in a healthy way!!! ]
Fucking shit.
#fanfic ideas#I definitely have to write this#although i have no idea exactly how lmao#bingyuan#trigger warning: bingge#technically it's mpreg in a genre sense#Shen Yuan transmigrates to a wife#Which isn't as bad as being a human stick#Because it's definitely better to be hit by a heavenly pillar than to be a human stick#I mean I would choose the heavenly pillar but I'm not biased (and Shen Yuan isn't either)#bingge btw is looking for his shizun from another world#post bingge vs bingmei#because o!luo binghe deserves that beautiful happy ending#if anyone wants you know BETA READER THIS and work with me to make this ridiculous Shen Yuan level I accept#Shen Yuan has a lot of gender issues here but I won't go into it too much because I'd be going over the edge#original luo binghe#mxtx svsss#shen yuan#luo bingge#adding popular tags because lol I would definitely like to know your opinion on this before I jump into writing it seriously#svsss fanfiction#svsss au#svsss#bingyuan plot
64 notes
¡
View notes
Text
"pilot Stolas was better!!" no, he wasn't.
"bring pilot Stolas back!!" no â¤ď¸
You want an evil, manipulative, abusive villain with little to no redeeming qualities that is a Goetia and has cool powers? We have two of them: Stella and Andrealphus. If it's only about the 'asthetic', a character doesnt have to be evil to be cool, Stolas's demon form and powerful moments are already amazing, and although he's powerless now, I'm pretty sure he will get his status back at least for a while to make a badass scene.
What the Hellaverse doesnt lack is amazing villains. If critics were so much better and creative than Vivziepop, they wouldn't turn a complex, well written, well designed and well acted character like Stolas into a boring Valentino 2.0 just because the pilot version seemed creepier. Lmao Stella is literally what all of Stolas's haters claim to want, look how well they're handling her. Seriously I've seen people saying that Stella needs a sympathetic reason to be a fucking abuser, but when Stolas (not an abuser) has sympathetic reasons to be who he is and do what he does, it's suddenly not okay.
Stolas is the only character I've ever seen who: sacrifice his life to his lover, and is still called "selfish" and "not enough for Blitz"; is seeing being abused by his wife since EP2-Season 1, even singing about how his life with her was miserable yet he remained strong for his daughter, and people will still claim that Stella turned out to be abusive "out of nowhere"; is forced to marry someone he doesn't love, is abused by said person, spent years alone and enduring that misery, and when he finally chooses to stay with the one person that never abused him, he is an "evil cheater"; sacrifices his own safety and happiness to make his daughter safe and happy, and ALWAYS â always â take accountability when he fails her (or when she thinks he failed her) as any good parent would do, and still be called a bad father (addition: forced to have said child but loves her anywayđ¤Ą). Just say yall alergic to character development.
I lost the Tiktok now because I blocked OP, but the big argument about "how much pilot Stolas is better" is a lie basically: canon Stolas, (abuse survivor, has the best development of the show alongside with Blitz, a loving father who remained strong for his daughter), is a "loser" (also a twink in a derogatory way, which is funny like, just say the f slur, we know that's what you mean𤥠specially calling a male abuse survivor "coward" and "loser" lmao like we know), while the pilot Stolas is a "manipulative, inteligent, cold villain" uuuuh no he wasn't lol hate to tell you dude, Pilot Stolas wasnt an evil interesting genius that was sooo intimidating, nah he was just creepy and honestly as funny as the canon one. Yeah you just hate the gay owl being well written. Pilot Stolas has 2 minutes screen. Canon Stolas has two seasons of development, he is the better one, I'm pretty sure people who say this don't even remember half of the pilot.
So it's not really about Stolas's actions, or mistakes, or him being a good or a bad person (he is a good person). He could be the most perfect, excellent, flawless victim, the 'wokest' most self aware pure angel, it's still not enough. Because it's not about him, it's about a version of him that never came to be but haters love to whine about it.
#''they babied stolas!!'' cope đ#also idc if you *like* pilot stolas but no he isnt better than the canon stolas#he is a past concept that was changed a long time ago. even viv confirmed she always wanted stolas to be redeemable#also ya know who approved Stolitz? Brandon. yeah Viv isnt the only big evil genius behind the 'toxiqueđą' shipp#helluva boss#stolas#stolitz
75 notes
¡
View notes
Text
Something about Zoro being one of the most misunderstood and mischaracterized characters in One Piece is funny (not haha funny, funny sad) to me because?? Thatâs literally how his introduction starts?? With people misunderstanding him and thinking heâs some big, monstrous demon who kills with cause and cannot be trusted or tamed.
Meanwhile the actual Zoro is a driven guy who is often both literally and figuratively directionless in life and found his goals in life through good people (first Kuina and then Luffy). He's tied up in the Marine base not due to those actual crimes he commuted (well not inherently anyway) but because he âdisrespectedâ a Captain's son and stood up for a little girl. He accepts the challenge they present to him and because Zoro himself is a guy that puts his money where his mouth is he assumes the Marines will uphold their end of the deal and let him go (note the actual shock when Koby tells him the truth)
He joins Luffy's crew but also outright says heâs not gonna let his goal take second place to Luffy or anyone else's for that matter, he bears the weight of two people's dreams, his heart isnât going to be swayed by some pirate.
Speaking of Kuina, her impact and influence on Zoro's life isnât talked about enough for my liking. She was Zoro's first friend, his first rival, his first goal. He looked up to her so much and his reaction to her passing cracks my heart in half every time because you can seem him just..go numb. Kuina, dead? Kuina, the strongest person he knows, gone? Kuina, who swore to him just yesterday theyâd race to the top of the world together, doesnât exist anymore. His blank face only cracking within the privacy of his sensei before he begs. He begs on his knees, tears streaming down his face please please please let me take Kuina's sword with me. Let me take our dream to a high neither of us could imagine. I wonât let her name die here.
On top of gaining the Wado Ichimonji that day Zoro also gainedâŚfear. Not of death, well at the very least not his own, he gained his fear of not being enough. Kuina kicked his ass every way a person could and still died, what could someone like him do? So he trainsâŚand trainsâŚand trains some more. Overly, obsessively, constantly telling himself heâs not enough, heâs weak, he canât protect anyone like this and everyone's death would be on him.
As for Zoro being cold and stoic thatâs justâŚnot completely true? Heâs not stone, he can be excited or sad or angry just as much as most characters he just sucks at showing it canonically (Kuina thinks he hates her before their final fight after all). Sure heâs not as forthcoming about it as some of the other Strawhats but Zoro's more of an action guy anyway, he'll show his love with his protection and unwavering faith.
In conclusion, Zoro is a ridiculously stubborn, incredibly loyal, mildly emotionally constipated, do what you say/say what you mean kinda guy.
(Also that whole âZoro would kill the whole crew if Luffy asked him toâ thing? Top ten stupidest things Iâve ever heard from the fandom and thatâs saying a lot. Heâs loyal not brainless and heartless guys if Luffy asked him to do that, he would never but I digress, Zoro would square the fuck up with him so fast. DPMO.)
#mighty morphin Zoro posting time!#love that Marimo dearly even if I didnât at first (he was too much like me)#one piece#one piece meta#<<<I think?? is this the meta??#roronoa zoro#pirate hunter zoro#one piece zoro#kuina one piece
72 notes
¡
View notes
Text
Random tidbits/headcanons
I mostly just made this because I think there's some things I forgot to put in the other posts so here you go Ig
Starting off with a big one, Millie proposed to Moxxie using sign language
Millie often translates for Moxxie when he's talking to others
Moxxie won't admit this, but it really means a lot to him when someone learns sign language for him. He grew in a place that told him that no one would learn such a thing just for a worthless, waste of space like him. So it contradicts what his father said to him when someone at least puts in the effort and tries
Not only is Sallie May trans, Millie now also has a trans brother
Verosika would probably listen to boyfriend asmr for shits and giggles
Asmodeus hates alpha male podcasters
In my rewrite, Moxxie is more apathetic than in canon, so the conflict in Murder Family is different. That's all I'm gonna say
Stella is the living embodiment of "I'm not just a regular mom, I'm a â¨cool momâ¨"
Fizz has a shit tone of medical trauma
Octavia has crippling abandonment issues
^ this is because Stolas would constantly tell her as a kid when she would be crying "Cut this nonsense out or else I'm leaving you. For good." Stolas would also say he'd take Stella with her. So basically she thought that if she cried as a child, her parents would leave her
^ this is why she's so quiet and pretends she doesn't care about anything. She learned that everyone will leave her if she shows any emotion
Yeah she doesn't like to cry in front of people anymore (Stella is completely unaware of this btw)
She just bottles everything up in general
Stella will just accept anytime Stolas or Andrealphus yells or threatens her, but she'll attack you if you mention her daughter
After some character development, Fizz would be good friends with Moxxie I feel
^ They would play a game where they would see how much random shit they could say in sign language before people start to catch on how much they're bullshitting. They would be saying the word 'watermelon' over and over again. Everyone is confused while Millie and Asmodeus are laughing their asses off
If M&M were to have kids, they would definitely go for adoption (COUGHSINSMASCOUGH) also because Moxxie is trans so they wouldn't be able to have children biologically
^ also they're broke so they need more money before they even consider that
Millie often worries about Moxxie when she's not there to translate his sign language. It's not that she doesn't think he can handle himself, Moxxie has been surviving on his own for a long time before he met Millie. It's just that he has a tendency to force himself to talk when no one can understand what he's saying, and Millie knows it hurts and exhausts him
Millie's family adores Moxxie. I hate the trope of dad disapproves of daughter's boyfriend. It's just pretty annoying and oftentimes the boyfriend is the sweetest guy ever
Her family is the most accepting family in the Wrath Ring and upon first meeting them, Moxxie was certain they hated him
That was literally the opposite though, they even helped Millie set up the proposal. They just wanted Moxxie to be their in-law so bad
Striker is kind of an older brother figure to Millie, he used to have playdates with her when they were little
Stolas is the most powerful Goetia, which is something he brags about constantly
Asmodeus is a huge fucking nerd and loves reading
Moxxie and Blitzø constantly steals Millie's fidget toys for fun
Dw Millie thinks it's funny
That's all I can think about for now! If I think of anymore I'll do a part two
#most of these are about m&m i realize#oh well#yeah this got kind of out of hand#anti spindlehorse#anti vivziepop#vivziepop critical#vivziepop criticism#vivziepop critique#spindlehorse criticism#helluva boss critical#helluva boss criticism#helluva boss critique#spindlehorse critique#helluva boss rewrite
48 notes
¡
View notes
Note
HI SINCE U ARE THE HPD HAVER OF TUMBLR DO U HAVE ANY TRANSHPD TIPS????!!1????!1!??1!1?1!!!?
YES I FUCKING DO!!! /LH NBR POS
I meant to make a master post abt this but, HAVE SOME RN!!!!!!!1!1!1!
TIP 1: Make everything a bigger deal than it needs to be!
Even if something doesnt really interest you a lot, pretend like it does.
If someone says something kind of dry or vague, make it seem interesting!! Use all caps, or if you're irl, talk fast and loud! Say a lot about something that there isnt a lot to say about.
For example, someone says, "I'm hungry." You might sayy, "O MY GOSH, when's the last time you've ate?? We NEED to get you something to eat, what's your favorite food? OOOOO, you know what, mine is actually Graham crackers and I have some on me RNRN, do you want some?? You know you can ask for food from me ANYTIME, riiiight? You're my bestest friend, I'd do ANYTHING for you if you asked really."
If you're irl, MAKE SURE TO GIVE THEM TIME TO ANSWER U BACK IN BETWEEN!! They might be put off if they dont get to talk as well, which is bad!! The goal is to be entertaining enough to keep them around as long as possible, or as long as they're attention is worthy.
TIP 2: Fake your interests and morals to match everyone elses!
Sometimes, you'll find that your opinions or interests are different than everyone else's. This is generally not good, because it can cause conflict with other people, or they might find you angering or unrelatable. Not good for attention seeking!
What you want to do instead is fit in with everyone else's beliefs while still making a statement of your own.
For example, if you find yourself in a group of people who love the musical Hamilton, but you hate Hamilton, you should try to push that aside and fake your love for it! You not only want to be agreeable, but you also want to stand out. For example:
Person A: "Oh my god guys, I watched Hamilton again last night and it was SOOO good."
Person B: "OH MY GOSH yes, it's literally my favotieee musical"
Person C: "oh yeah, me too!"
You: "OH MY GOD GUYS, you have NOOOO idea, I would literally die to go see Hamilton again. I've seen the musical like, 20 times already and it's so GOOD it's LITERALLY like my baby."
Person A: "ITS MY FAVORITE TOO IVE LITERALLY SEEN IT PROBABLY 25 TIMES NOW"
You: "WELL, MY AUNT LITERALLY PLAYS AS ONE OF THE BACKGROUND CHARACTERS IN IT, LIKE IN THE OFFICIAL SHOW THEY DO. SHE HAD LIKE 50,000 PEOPLE WATCHING IT WAS CRAZY, SHE TOLD ME ONE OF THE MAIN CHARACTERS SHE WAS ACTING WITH LITERALLY TRIED TO HIT ON HER TOO DURING THE NIGHT OF THE SHOW."
You can see that person A is a formidable opponent here. Clearly they are a Hamilton lover and extroverted, and tried to one-up you there. But you need to be the BEST, the shining star! You are now the number one Hamilton fan and no one can prove themselves otherwise!
You might need to cut other people off before they start speaking if they're more boring, like person C. The convo will get much less exciting if they have more room to talk, and they're attention isnt as valuable as Person A's or Person B's.
Also, you dont need to know *anything* about the musical Hamilton to take the stage in this convo. Just say things that you could say about any musical ever!
I HOPE THESE HELPED, MWWWWAH!!! HAVE A LOVELY DAY ANON, AND HAPPY TRANSITIONING!!! ^w^
#⥠ASKS âĄ#transhpd#transid tips#transhistrionic#transhpd tips#radqueer safe#pro radqueer#radqueer community#radqueer#pro radq#radq safe#radq interact#radq please interact#rqc#rq community#rqcđđ#rq đđ#rq safe#pro rq đđ
24 notes
¡
View notes
Text
Dating Jason Todd (Part Eight)
fanfic type: angst, fluff, comfort (ongoing)
If you liked the Titans show but wish they handled Jasonâs story line differently you might like this fic!
Hey so this is in fact my first time writing fanfiction (idk what my life has come to). Sorry if itâs cringy but also I would eat this up cause I LOVE some good angsty comfort fanfiction. I wonât write smut. I donât think Iâm gonna do requests but if you have any ideas feel free to let me know. Also of course I donât own any DC characters this is purely fanfiction. Thank you and I hope you enjoy. (I hope you like run-on sentencesđ) (if you donât like it donât be rude just move on dudeđđ§ââď¸)
So story line, this doesnât really take place in any specific universe but Iâm gonna be pulling concepts from Titans, Arkham Knight, The Batman, Under the Red Hood, and whatever lore I remember from the CW shows cause I grew up watching those, then just my imagination of course. Reader is referred to as she/her btw.
Warnings: talking about death, suicide, depression, torture (itâs not graphic I hate gore itâs just sad), talking about intimacy (not graphic), struggling with eating, topics of grief, violence, panic attacks, PTSD
Part Eight: Your Jason
You, Dick and Barbra go through the video frame by frame looking for clues as to where Jason is.
âThat has to be Arkham,â you say.
âWe cleared it,â Dick says.
âThe video could be old,â Barbra suggests.
âItâs rained the past few days and only stopped today, you canât hear any rain in the video so it has to be new,â you say. âWe should go back to Arkham.â
âBarbra will you stay here and keep looking for clues in the video and Y/N and I will go to Arkham?â Dick asks. Barbra nods.
âCan you send me blueprints of Arkham?â You ask Barbra.
âWill do,â she says.
You and Dick get to Arkham and Barbra sends you the blueprints. You pull them up on a laptop.
âOkay X off every wing you searched,â you tell him. He begins to go through the blueprints and cross off rooms when suddenly, he freezes.
âWhat?â You ask. He says nothing, simply stares at the screen. âDick what is it?â
âThis wing,â he says as he circles it on the screen. âI donât know what it is, it doesnât existâŚâ
âWhat do you mean doesnât exist?â You say.
âThere was nothing there when we went through, I have no idea what that is,â he says.
âIdiot,â you mumble. You start running into Arkham and Dick chases after you. You get to where the entrance to the wing supposedly is. Itâs just a brick wall.
âAre the blueprints wrong?â You ask him.
âNo they canât be,â he says. Dick presses his ear to the wall and knocks. âThis isnât a real fucking wall,â he says angrily. Dick grabs an old pipe lying on the floor and starts swinging at the wall. It cracks a bit. He throws the pipe once thereâs a small hole in the wall and begins breaking the fake wall down with his hands. You and him climb through the hole in the wall. âStay close,â he whispers. You unknowingly pass a motion sensor and suddenly the whole hallway lights up. Colorful lights line the hall and circus music blares. Your eyes widen as you see a something behind Dick. You point to a sign behind him that says, âfollow the footprints.â The letters are written in blood. You look down and see a trail of bloody footprints. âY/N wait!â Dick says. You sprint down the hall following the footprints. You run for about a minute then they end at a locked door. You try the handle but it wonât budge. You throw your body against the door in desperation but youâre just not strong enough.
âDick!â You yell. Dick runs up behind you. âI canât get the door open!â You say frantically. Dick throws his body against the door and on the third try it flys open. You run in to find Jason lying on the floor in a pool of his own blood. You run to him, slip in the blood and fall. âJason!â You say as you check his pulse. âJason,â you cry as you cradle his head in your hands. His cold dead eyes stare back at you. Dick carefully kneels down and he reaches out to close Jasonâs eyes. âDonât touch him!â You yell as you hold Jasonâs corpse. Dick walks over to the wall and unplugs the lights and circus music. You notice a âJâ carved into Jasonâs face. His face is covered in dirt and blood splatters, the only clean spots are where his tears have dried up. Your heart breaks as you look at Jason; your Jason.
âI called Barbra,â Dick says softly. You simply put your head on Jasonâs chest and sob.
Before you know it the place is crawling with cops. Jasonâs now under a white sheet and cops work around you tagging evidence. You walk over to Dick and say, âthe cops shouldnât be here, Bruce should fucking be here.â
âI donât like the cops being here either, more than half of them are dirty,â Dick says. âAs for Bruce I just got off the phone with him, heâs flying back tomorrow.â You say nothing, you just stare at the white sheet covering the love of your life. âIf you give me your phone Iâll call Roy,â Dick says. You mindlessly hand him your phone.
âCall Thea, I donât have Royâs number,â you say. âHave you called Gar and everyone?â You ask.
âI will after I get off the phone with Roy,â Dick says.
Heâs about to go into the hall when you say, âthank you Dick.â He simply nods and walks into the hall. Everyone is busy. You walk over to Jasonâs body and lift the sheet enough to pull his stack of bracelets off his wrist. There was a black leather one with the logo of his favorite band, a braided green one Gar had made, a silver one with a small red ruby (you have a necklace with a small pink diamond which matched), and your bra strap youâd tied into a bracelet for him. You put the bracelets in your pocket and then cover his hand back up.
When you first met Jason when he rescued you from poison ivy you never imagined youâd see him again, and then once you met him you never knew you two would be so close, never imagined youâd fall in love, and you never thought youâd lose him.
Hey, I hope you enjoyed this fic, if you did remember to like. I appreciate any positive feedback, it encourages me to keep writing and posting parts. I love being dramatic and honestly donât know why I didnât write fanfiction sooner. I hope you are having fun reading this cause Iâm having fun writing it. Check out my Masterlist if you havenât read the other parts and want to. I have a lot more ideas for developing the red hood plot and backstory for how the reader meets Dick and Jason and becomes a titan so if your interested in staying up to date with the fics then please follow me. The next two days are going to be busy for me so if I donât post just know I havenât abandoned the fic (Iâll probably still post tho cause I tend to add to this when Iâm half asleep super late lol) Happy holidaysđŠˇ
Hereâs a link to my Masterlist if you want to read the other parts.
Masterlist
#dc fanfiction#dick grayson fanfiction#dick grayson x reader#jason todd#jason todd angst#jason todd comfort#jason todd fanfiction#jason todd fic#jason todd fluff#jason todd imagine#jason todd x y/n#jason todd x you#jason todd x reader#jason todd x oc#redhood x you#redhood x reader#red hood#arkham knight x you#arkham knight x reader#arkham knight#dick grayson#nightwing x y/n#nightwing x you#nightwing x reader#dc imagine#dc fanfic#titans fanfiction#dc titans#angst#hurt/comfort
23 notes
¡
View notes
Text
YES! Finally! Catraâs redemption! Iâve been waiting for this moment for the whole fucking show. I knew it had to take a long time but I didnât expect 4 full seasons.
So theyâve got 1 season (technically 10 episodes) to really make something out of this redemption arc for Catra. We all knew she cared. That she was only so awful to people because she didnât want to feel weakened and without purpose. But taking her out of her familiar and comfortable environment and completely stripping her of her friends (or those that tried to be her friends) would have an immense effect on her. Would make her go the opposite way because sheâs got nothing left to prove except the fact that she could do one good thing. Unlike Hordak or Shadow Weaver, Horde Prime has no use or value for Catra unless sheâs of the Horde Hive Mind. Unless sheâs completely erased of all autonomyâŚ. Just like Hordak. She knows she doesnât want that. No autonomous being in their right conscious mind would want that.
So they did all that well. I donât think it needed to take 4 full seasons but⌠the point is that sheâs turned the corner now and sheâs ready to help the Rebellion even at the cost of her own safety and well-being. So heroic.
And her heroic efforts wonât be in vain because now they have to return the favour. They have to save her.
Iâm assuming (I donât know for sure) that from this, this is when Catra and Adora reconcile their differences, become friends again and hopefully⌠fall in love. I mean strong and deep feelings for each other were always there no matter which side of the spectrum they fell on. Hate or love. In fact I would say thatâs the only reason why the hatred was that intense between these lead characters. Because it was formed from and by such an intense love for each other ever since they were kids. So it has to come to the forefront at some point otherwise there wouldnât be any reason to make it so intense. Itâs a culmination of so much left unsaid, unheard, undone and I know you canât just do it without all the build-up.
After all, thatâs exactly how you do enemies-to-lovers.
Or⌠friends-to-enemies-to-lovers. Itâs complicated. But the aim of the game is to show the intensity of feelings there no matter which is on the side of âgoodâ or âevilâ.
Theyâve done that well and then some. Now they have to show what all of that intensity was cultivated from.
And the answer always is love. Deep romantic true love.
I could make a million predictions on this because thereâs so many ways you can do this. But the best way - in my opinion - is to put them both in dire straights and then have them prove to each other whatâs more important to each other. The mission or each other.
Now the mission as it stands now - from this episode and onwards - would be to escape Horde Primeâs clutches and return to Etheria to the other Princesses and leave Catra to deal with her betrayal on her own.
But they wonât do that because that undermines the lesson of the mission as a whole. To protect their own.
Catra is one of their own now that she saved them. This is what makes the difference between good and evil. The good guys donât ever leave one of their own behind.
The arguments of the greater good always falls to love and when youâre put in those dire straights - one thing has to be accomplished from the narrative undertaking.
That is that the greater good and love arenât conciliable. Even in a kids TV show the honesty of that is important.
In all respects leaving Catra behind would be the greater good thing to do for the betterment of Etheria.
But it wouldnât be the right thing to do between them. Between the love thatâs there and always has been there between them. It would still feel very wrong.
So the prediction is that theyâll save her because how could they not after sheâs risked herself to save them?
And even if she didnât - how could Adora not want to? Strong, deep and intense feelings determine the plan whether it be for the mission or against the mission.
Thatâs the way Iâve always known it anyway but then Iâve always had the best example of what true love really is and all my mindset, personality and worldview is informed by that representation of what true love is.
It goes beyond the greater good. It goes beyond destiny. It goes beyond life itself. Itâs that profound.
If I didnât have that lesson ingrained into me from when I was a child, then I would say leave the cat behind and get on with your lives in the way you deserve to live them. But thatâs not who I am and it never has been.
#she-ra and the princesses of power#season 5#episode 3#corridors#catradora#adora#aimee carrero#catra#aj michalka#redemption#the greater good#true love#enemies to lovers#character representation#characrer development#wlw representation#queer representation
22 notes
¡
View notes
Text
đđ˘đŚđ§ đŁđđ§đđđđ˘đĄ đđĄđ§đđĽđđđđ- đĽđźđťđśđť đ
đ.đĄ đĽđ˛đŽđąđ˛đż (Part 2) end!
Used to be on @elysiaheaven
This is the request!!
02: SO MUCH FOR THE TOLERANT LEFT
Words:4000
Genre: Red Room Reader (G.N) Gore
Summary: A sadistic captor fucking you <33 livestreams their torture, taunting a shackled victim while performing brutal acts for an online audience. They theatrically respond to viewer suggestions, twisted glee, blending dark humor with horrifying violence. The chat eggs them on, turning the view into a grotesque spectacle.
This happens before you meet Ronin! (Basically
Trigger Warnings:
Graphic Violence: Depictions of physical harm, torture, and injury.
Self-Harm: Indirect references to bodily harm or deterioration (e.g., breaking nails).
Psychological Torture: Mental manipulation, humiliation, and emotional distress.
Gore: Detailed depictions of blood, injury, and bodily harm.
Blood: Intense, graphic descriptions of bloodshed.
Trauma: Psychological and physical trauma inflicted on the victim.
Moral Corruption: Exploration of a characterâs lack of remorse, twisted logic, and corruption.
Death (explicit deaths with violent descriptions)
Torture (including the use of tools and sadistic behavior)
Psychological Manipulation (character dynamics that involve power and control)
Content Warnings:
Disturbing Imagery: Vivid descriptions of torture, suffering, and victimization.
Emotional Manipulation: Using guilt, fear, and despair to torment the victim.
Organ Donation: The idea of using a victimâs organs for medical purposes, which could be seen as dehumanizing.
Dark Humor: The use of dark humor surrounding violence, suffering, and exploitation.
Exploitation: The character finds satisfaction in the suffering of others.
Dehumanization: Treating the victim as an object or tool for personal satisfaction or manipulation.
Physical Harm (depictions of severe bodily injury, bruising, and broken bones)
Blood and Injury (detailed accounts of blood, wounds, and brutal attacks)
Blood Loss and Dismemberment (specific references to body mutilation, such as the use of crowbars and knives for dismemberment)
Psychological Control and Trauma (psychological torment and manipulation, including the fear of death, taunting, and intimidation)
EXTRA: He's a character from a game named Killer chat! Please play it! It's so good!
⥠The show must go on
Welcome dear viewer, Read the warnings before reading this hell!
Ronin sat hunched over his computer, the screen illuminating his face in the dark. His fingers hovered over the keys, but he couldnât quite figure out how to word it. How could he explain what was happening inside of him? This giddy feeling, this knot that tightened in his chest when he thought about Angel. He felt so... out of control, and he hated it. His mind was swirling with a mess of emotions, and the only thing that seemed clear was that something was happening that he couldnât fix.
He stared at his message, his thoughts racing. His thumb finally pressed the keys.
Ronin: Angel, I need help. My heart is like... giddy? What the hell is this? It feels like Iâm gonna burst. I feel so shit right now. I donât know whatâs going on inside of me, but itâs ugly. I just want to rip out my aorta and wash it but I donât even want to do that? Wtf is wrong with me?!
He hit send and immediately felt a wave of frustration flood through him. Why couldnât he explain himself better? It was like his insides were fighting each other, wanting something they couldnât have. His heart, a traitor, racing when Angel even looked his way, and yet, he was ashamed of it. What was he supposed to do with all these feelings?
Angel didnât take long to reply, their message popping up with an almost teasing wink emoji. Ronin stared at it for a moment, his pulse quickening.
Angelicc: âWhat the hell are they fixing you, Ronin?â
That response hit him like a bolt of lightning, igniting something deep inside him. His mind, once clouded, suddenly cleared, and he smirked.
goreboy: *Why would you care? he texts back with a playful yet taunting tone. Itâs not like you could handle me if you tried, Angel.
There. Heâd done it. Roninâs fingers tapped out the last bit of the message, the little bit of frustration that had been building finally manifesting in this teasing banter. But beneath it all, his mind screamed for some kind of resolutionâanything to make the knot in his chest loosen.
Angelic: God, please give me the energy to shoot you, Ronin You're so...
Ronin leaned back in his chair, phone still in hand, when the familiar ping of a notification pulled him out of his spiraling thoughts. His sharp eyes glanced at the screen. The message was from the streamer.
His lips curled into an intrigued grin as he clicked it open.
Streamer: Got the guy you were talking about. Stream starts at 9 PM. Gonna be a good one.
Ronin's grin widened as he read it, his mind briefly flicking back to their conversation about the so-called "big bad" that had captured his interest. Theyâd actually found the guy. This was going to be fun. He couldn't wait to see how they handled it.
"Guess theyâve got a little flair for drama after all," he muttered, tossing his phone onto the desk for a moment.
But the thought lingeredâthere was something about this streamer that felt familiar, like a puzzle piece he hadnât quite placed yet. They were sharp, clever, and knew just the right things to say to keep him hooked. Almost... too much like someone he already knew.
A part of him toyed with the idea, but no. That would be too wild, wouldnât it?
Picking up his phone again, he typed out a quick message:
goreboy: Rest up, yeah? The guyâs caught, so your jobâs done. You should sleep well.
He hovered over the send button for a moment, noticing your status was offline. With a sigh, he hit send anyway.
"Offline, huh?" he murmured, leaning back and letting his head tip against the chairâs edge. "Figures."
He stared at the empty room, the soft glow of the phone screen lighting his face. His heart, usually so calm and guarded, ached faintly.
It wasnât a bad ache, though. It was warm.
"You really got me wrapped around your little finger, donât you?" he whispered to the empty space.
Ronin closed his eyes, letting the weight of the realization sink in. He really loved you, didnât he? His heart, as much as he hated to admit it, wasnât lying.
The clock hit 9 PM, the moment you had been waiting for. Your heart raced in anticipation as you adjusted your mask, staring at the reflection in your screen. You were ready. Tonightâs stream would be one for the books.
The camera flicked on, and there you were, in full gloryâyour usual enigmatic persona, concealed behind the mask, your voice a controlled calm with just the right edge of menace.
On the other side of the screen, the man theyâd just captured was already cursing, his voice a mixture of panic and fury. His words were a desperate mess of threats, accusations, and confusion, but you couldnât help but smile at the chaos. It felt so⌠right. So deliciously satisfying.
You leaned forward, fingers expertly typing on the keyboard, your voice sharp as you addressed him.
âQuiet down, you filthy coward,â you said, your voice cold yet somehow amused, the words slipping from your lips effortlessly. âYouâre not in control anymore. The world you once ruled is crumbling around you, and you're nothing but a puppet with its strings cut.â
You could practically hear his jaw clenching. The man had thought he was invincible, and now he was nothing more than prey in your game. And you? You were the hunter, enjoying every moment of it.
"Why donât you shut your damn mouth and listen?" you continued, raising your hand dramatically, the camera capturing every movement. "Your sins have caught up with you. You think you can get away with everything, but tonight, youâre going to pay for all of it. Iâm not just going to show you your fateâIâm going to make you feel it."
The manâs curses grew more frantic as he struggled against his restraints, but you didnât care. You kept your focus, savoring each word you spoke, each moment of this twisted satisfaction. This was your show. You had the power, and you werenât letting go.
"Stop squirming, itâs pointless," you added, voice dripping with mockery. "You wanted attention, and now you have it. Just sit tight, the real funâs about to begin.â
As the stream began to settle into its rhythm, you leaned forward, gazing into the camera with that unsettling calm. The chat was flooded with messages, and your viewers were eager, waiting for the nightâs show to unfold. Among the sea of usernames, you saw itâa familiar one. Goreboy69.
It barely registered among all the chaos of names scrolling by. But then it clickedâthat name, those letters, the symbol of chaos that youâd recognized. You looked at it again, eyes widening for a split second. It was him.
Ronin.
The realization hit you like a jolt of electricity through your veins. He was here. Watching. Your Ronin.
You swallowed back a lump in your throat but quickly regained your composure, the same sinister smile curling onto your lips. This was your moment. Your game. The perfect twist.
"Welcome, everyone," you said smoothly, your voice smooth and warm like honey, as if everything was perfectly normal. You glanced at the chat again, giving a special nod to the man in question. "And of course, a very special welcome to... Goreboy69. You know who you are."
You let the words linger in the air, giving him a playful wink, even though you knew he couldnât see it. The chat lit up with confusion and excitement, the viewers unknowingly swept up in the tension of the moment.
"Tonight, weâve got someone truly special for you all," you continued, turning to the restrained man at the center of the stream. His eyes widened as he realized what was happening. But it was too late for him to do anything about it. You controlled the narrative, and he was just another pawn in your sick little game.
"Tonight's special victim has done unspeakable things," you said, slowly pacing in front of the camera, giving the chat time to catch up. "You know, heâs not just some run-of-the-mill criminal. Oh no... this one has a special kind of depravity."
The man on the screen struggled, his curses muffled by the gag in his mouth, but you werenât interested in his weak protests. Instead, you leaned in closer to the camera, your voice dropping to a low, almost playful tone.
"You see, this lovely gentleman has stolen millions, ruined lives, and even killedâoh, the things heâs done. And tonight... well... tonight, I think heâs going to pay for them all."
You paused for a moment, savoring the tension in the air. You felt it, the rush of power. This was what you lived for.
As you started detailing his crimes, your voice began to shake with barely contained laughter. You couldnât hold it in any longer, the absurdity of his actions tickling your sense of humor in a twisted way.
"And the best part?" you said, smirking as you bent down toward the man, your hand barely brushing against his face. "He thought he could get away with it. Thought he was untouchable."
You stood back up, chuckling darkly as the chat roared with excitement. "Well, tonightâs the night he gets to learn the hard way... that no one is untouchable."
The man struggled against his restraints, his face turning pale as you recounted his heinous actsâhow he had killed people in cold blood, how heâd abused his power, how he'd ruined countless lives without a second thought. You could barely keep your laughter contained as you continued.
"Look at him squirm," you mocked. "Isnât it just hilarious? All his bravado crumbling in seconds. You should've seen the look on his face when he realized who really has the power now."
Your laughter bubbled up again as the man began to choke on his words, his breathing shallow from both fear and the gag, but it didnât matter. You were in control now. Every moment of his suffering was a triumph, and you knew he couldnât escape it.
"Isnât it just beautiful?" you murmured, gazing at the screen with twisted satisfaction. "Justice... and so much more."
You let the man suffer in silence for a moment, savoring the absolute control you had over him. And as you glanced again at Goreboy69's name, your heart raced with a mix of excitement and curiosity. Was Ronin watching? Yes you idoit!
You couldnât wait to find out.
You leaned over the bound man, your smile never fading as you tilted your head, eyes gleaming with sick delight. His terror was palpable, a fragile thing he clung to in a desperate bid to escape, but there was no escape for him. Not here. Not with you.
You taunted him, your voice dripping with mock sympathy as you circled him slowly. "Tell me," you whispered softly, leaning down to his ear as he trembled, "How could you kill her? Your wife. The one you swore to protect, to love. How did you bring yourself to do that?" You let the words linger, his eyes wide, filled with dread. He was barely holding himself together, but his body was still betraying him with every ragged breath.
Without waiting for an answer, you swiftly grabbed a knife, its cold edge gleaming under the dim light, and drove it into the muscle of his arm, the blade sinking deep with an almost sickening ease.
His scream echoed, muffled by the gag, but the sound of it was pure, raw emotionâthe kind that only came when a man realized how powerless he truly was. Tears sprang to his eyes, his body writhing against the restraints as he sobbed.
And it was there, in that moment of utter defeat, that you felt the thrill deep within you. You loved this. You loved the power, the control, the rush of watching someone break in front of you. It made everything feel real, alive.
You straightened, taking a step back, your eyes still fixed on his broken form. You were about to speak again, but then... you noticed something in the chat.
There it was againâGoreboy69âthat username flashing across your screen. You grinned, recognizing the familiar pattern of messages, but this time, there was something more.
He wasnât just watching. He was engaged. You clicked on the notification, reading the latest message from him:
"Do it. Make him feel it. Don't hold back."
Your heart skipped a beat. He... wanted you to go further. He was encouraging it. Your grin widened as a wild idea bubbled to the surface.
Ronin. Ronin was here, watching you perform. But he didnât know it was you, did he? He had no idea. You were about to show him just how much damage you could cause.
You couldn't help the giggle that bubbled up from deep within you. You almost felt giddy at the thought of him watching, probably thinking of you as someone else entirely.
Your gaze flicked back to the man before you. He was gasping, his body trembling with the shock of the pain in his arm, and yet you werenât done. Oh, no. You still had plenty to do.
You lifted the knife again, this time moving slowly toward his eye. His fear skyrocketed as he saw the glint of the blade, his body stiffening in a futile attempt to escape. You leaned in closer, your breath warm against his skin as you hovered just inches from his face.
And thatâs when you whispered, âWhat if I just... pluck your eye out, hm? How would you like that?â
The terror in his eyes deepened, his chest heaving as he shook his head violently. But you couldn't help but smile wider at his futile attempts to flee. He wasnât going anywhere, not with you in control.
But then, your gaze flickered back to the chat, and the message from Goreboy69 appeared again:
"Give him hell."
You giggled again, a wicked laugh that sent a shiver down your own spine, before turning your attention back to your captive. Ronin didnât even realize it, but with every word he typed, he was pushing you further, guiding your actions. The connection between the two of you, unspoken and unacknowledged, made everything feel even more intense.
He didnât know who you were, but you knew exactly who he was.
And that only made everything more delicious.
Your knife hovered just above his trembling eye, the sharp edge glinting in the dim light as his fear radiated outward in waves. The manâs body jerked instinctively, pulling against the ropes, but there was no escape. He was trapped. Completely at your mercy.
You stopped, just as the knife was about to make contact, holding it steady in midair. The sharp point was so close, the breath from his panicked gasps hitting your face. You could hear his heart pounding in his chest, faster and faster, the sound of it almost more satisfying than any scream.
His voice broke through the silence, a desperate cry filled with hatred and fear. "Youâbitch!" he screamed, his words muffled by the gag but still full of venom. "You're a sick monster! You think you're some kind of god? You're nothing! NOTHING!"
His words didnât affect you. In fact, they only made the thrill more intense. You smiled wider, your eyes narrowing as you leaned closer, the cold metal still inches from his eye. "Oh, you're right about one thing," you whispered softly, the knife edge almost touching his eyelid now, "I am a monster. And you're about to find out just how real it can get."
His body jerked again, this time his face contorting in an even more horrified expression, his whole being consumed by terror as he realized how close he was to losing an eye. You could see the sweat pouring down his forehead, his chest heaving violently with each breath. But you couldnât resistâit was too tempting, too sweet.
You let the knife edge touch his skin, just for a moment, teasing the fragile layer of flesh. He screamed again, but this time it was differentâa scream of pure terror as he realized he was so close to something irreversible.
And then, just as his voice broke with another desperate curse, you pulled the knife back, letting it fall to your side with a quiet, almost playful chuckle.
"You know, youâre lucky," you said, your voice light and sweet, as though you werenât holding his life in your hands. "Iâm in a good mood today. But donât think for a second that I wonât finish what I started."
The manâs breathing slowed, but only slightly. He was still a broken mess, realizing just how close he had come to death. He cursed again, shaking his head violently in the restraints.
You turned your attention back to the screen, noticing another message from Goreboy69 pop up in the chat. You glanced at it, reading his words carefully:
*"Youâre doing *great. He deserves everything. Don't stop now."
A sly smile curled on your lips. Ronin. You could almost feel his presence, even if he still didnât know it was you. His words pushed you, made you want to go further, to make this man suffer in ways he could never have imagined.
"Well," you whispered, turning back to your victim with a grin, "I guess we canât let him off that easy, can we?"
The manâs eyes widened in horror as you reached for the knife again. This time, there would be no hesitation.
You knelt before the trembling man, a thin, gleaming metal instrument in your grasp. Its delicate design contrasted with the brutality of its purpose.
âThis will hold your eye open,â you murmured, your voice calm and detached, as if explaining a benign procedure. The manâs breath hitched, and he immediately thrashed, shaking his head violently in protest.
âNO! NO, PLEASEââ
His plea was cut off by your other hand gripping his face with unyielding strength. Your fingers dug into his skin, forcing his head to still. His terror-filled eyes darted in every direction, searching for an escape he knew didnât exist.
âStay. Still.â The command was firm, your tone leaving no room for disobedience. You brought the metal instrument closer, positioning it against his swollen eyelids. Despite his muffled screams and jerking motions, you carefully pried them open. The exposed orb quivered, blood pooling around its damaged edges.
âThere,â you cooed, almost gently, as if offering some twisted reassurance. âNow we can get to work.â
You raised a scalpel, its blade catching the faint light, and twirled it between your fingers for the camera to see. The gesture was as elegant as it was menacing, the audience no doubt captivated. A few cheered in the chat, but one name stood out: Goreboy69.
"Perfection. Donât stop now."
You smirked, the encouragement fueling your performance.
âIâm only cutting away the bad parts,â you explained sweetly, tilting your head as if you truly believed your words were merciful.
The manâs screams intensified as the scalpel touched his flesh, the blade slicing into the delicate tissue of his eye socket. Blood welled instantly, streaming down his face in dark, sticky rivulets. He convulsed in his restraints, his voice cracking under the strain of his terror.
The sound was exquisite: the wet scrape of the blade against ruined flesh, the metallic click as your tools grazed one another, all punctuated by his raw, guttural cries.
You carved with precision, each movement deliberate, as though you were an artist shaping a masterpiece. The chat exploded with messagesâsome in awe, others begging for more. Your focus, however, remained unwavering.
âAlmost done,â you murmured, your voice carrying a detached serenity as though the manâs agony was merely background noise.
When you finally stepped back, the once-pristine blade was smeared crimson, and the man before you was nothing more than a shaking, sobbing wreck. You held the scalpel up for the camera, giving it a little twirl once more, your signature flourish.
The screens blazed with cold, artificial light, casting an almost clinical glow over the room. Your masked face was illuminated as you turned back toward the man, a faint smile playing on your lips.
"Ah, my apologies," you said with a soft chuckle, tilting your head in mock contrition. "I was getting carried away. But isnât tonightâs star a bit⌠mundane?"
Your eyes flicked to the chat, where the messages scrolled rapidly. One caught your attention, and you read it aloud with a sly grin.
ââNo mental games today?ââ You giggled, the sound saccharine and sharp. "What a vulgar question, darling! ButâŚ" You turned your gaze back to the man strapped helplessly before you, your tone dropping to a dangerous purr. "Physical pain has its own⌠unique ability to open and close doors, wouldnât you agree?"
The man whimpered, barely audible. "S-save meâŚ" he whispered, voice trembling, broken.
His wide, frantic eyes darted around the room, taking in the countless cameras positioned at every angle. He jerked against his restraints, panic overtaking him.
âWhat⌠what the hell? Why are there so many?!â His voice cracked, the fear palpable.
You ignored his frantic movements, instead feigning an air of absentminded curiosity as you rummaged through a tray of tools. Your hand paused on one particular item, and your fingers curled around it with deliberate slowness.
"I'm sure you're familiar with this sound," you said calmly, just as a loud BANG erupted, the sharp crack ricocheting through the room. The man flinched violently, his body jerking as far as the restraints allowed. His breath came in shallow, rapid bursts, his eyes darting in search of the source.
âItâs a nail gun,â you said matter-of-factly, stepping closer. You circled him with a predatorâs grace, the heavy thud of your boots echoing ominously. Finally, you stopped behind him and pressed the cold, unfeeling metal tip of the pneumatic tool against his shoulder. He gasped, the contact forcing a shiver down his spine.
âDo you know what a pneumatic nail gun is, mister?â you asked sweetly, your voice dripping with mock politeness. His head lolled back, his pupils unfocused as he tried to comprehend.
âIâll fucking kill you!â he spat, though the defiance in his voice was betrayed by the quiver of his body.
BANG!
A sharp, sickening sound rang out as the first nail was driven into his flesh. He screamedâa visceral, agonized wail that echoed in the confined space. The light from the monitors caught the glint of the metallic tip protruding from his arm, a bead of crimson welling up around it.
âOh, it is a nail!â you cooed mockingly, as though this revelation amused you. Without hesitation, you pulled the trigger again.
BANG!
His body convulsed as another nail punctured through muscle and sinew.
BANG!
And another.
BANG!
His arm hung limp now, blood trickling down in dark, sticky trails as his screams turned hoarse, his body trembling uncontrollably.
"Pull them out," you instructed suddenly, your voice light, almost playful. âGo onâI give you permission.â
His swollen, shaking hand inched toward the nail lodged just below his elbow. Tears streaked his face, mingling with the sweat dripping from his brow. His trembling fingers brushed the nail���s edge, and with a ragged sob, he gripped it.
He pulled.
The slick, nauseating sensation of the nail sliding free from the meat of his arm made him lurch forward, gagging on his cries. Blood spurted from the open wound, and he froze, trembling, unable to move or speak.
You crouched beside him, tilting your head like a curious child.
âSee?â you whispered, your voice as soothing as it was sinister. âPain can teach you so much more than words ever could.â
You turned to the chat, the scrolling messages flashing across your monitor. A particularly enthusiastic suggestion caught your eye, and you tilted your head, a mischievous grin tugging at your lips beneath the mask.
"Oh? Power tools, you say?" you cooed, running your gloved fingers across the array of instruments laid out before you. "Darling, you're positively spoiling me with ideas tonight."
Your hand hovered over a blowtorch, the sleek metal gleaming under the harsh lights. Picking it up, you tested the weight in your hand before turning to your guest of honor. His bloodshot eyes widened in absolute terror as recognition dawned on him.
"You know what this is, donât you?" you teased, igniting the torch with a sharp flick. A controlled flame roared to life, casting flickering shadows on the walls. The man screamed, his cries raw and piercing, his body thrashing against the restraints with renewed desperation.
"PleaseâNO! STOP!" he begged, his voice breaking, but the words only seemed to delight you further.
"Shh, shhâŚ" you said softly, your tone almost soothing. You leaned in close, the flame dancing mere inches from his face. "I just want to see how much heat you can take before you⌠break."
The flame licked toward him, and he jerked his head to the side, trying to evade the searing heat. You chuckled, the sound cold and devoid of mercy, as you brought the torch down toward his arm.
The fabric of his shirt began to singe, curling and blackening under the intensity of the flame. He shrieked as the heat seared his skin, the acrid stench of burning flesh filling the air. His screams were guttural, primal, as though the agony had reached into the very depths of his soul.
"Music to my ears," you said with a laugh, pulling the torch back momentarily. His chest heaved as he gasped for air, his face contorted in agony.
You turned back to the chat, which was erupting in chaotic glee.
"Too much already? Or should I keep going?" you asked, tilting your head at the screen. The responses came in fast, a flood of sadistic encouragement that made your grin widen.
"Ah, it seems they're not satisfied yet," you said, turning your gaze back to the trembling, broken man before you. "And I do hate disappointing my audience."
You crouched down to the trembling man's level, tilting your head as if inspecting him with genuine curiosity. He was panting, his face glistening with sweat and twisted in agony. Slowly, you raised the blowtorch again, the flame roaring to life with a menacing hiss.
âDonât worry,â you cooed, your tone dripping with mock reassurance. âIâm only doing you a favor. These open wounds? Theyâre⌠unsightly. We wouldnât want an infection now, would we?â
He screamed as you guided the flame toward one of the nail punctures in his arm, the raw flesh exposed and oozing. The moment the fire kissed his skin, his entire body convulsed violently. The sound of sizzling flesh filled the room, accompanied by his blood-curdling shrieks.
âShhh,â you whispered, pressing the blowtorch closer. The flame lingered, sealing the wound shut with a grotesque crackle. The scent of charred meat was overpowering, and you wrinkled your nose playfully. âYouâre lucky Iâm such a perfectionist. I wouldnât want to leave you half-done.â
You moved to the next wound, repeating the process with deliberate slowness. He thrashed against the restraints, his muffled sobs and cries blending into a pathetic symphony of suffering. Each press of the torch elicited fresh screams, his voice growing hoarse from the relentless abuse.
Finally, you clicked the torch off and set it down with care, the room falling eerily silent except for his ragged breathing. âThere. All sealed up. Isnât that better?â you asked, tilting your head as though expecting gratitude. He merely whimpered, tears streaming down his face.
But you werenât done yet. Not even close.
You reached out with your gloved hand, gripping the scorched, charred flesh around one of the wounds. âNow, letâs not waste good food,â you said with a sadistic grin, peeling away a burnt piece of flesh. The man recoiled in horror, shaking his head violently as you held it up in front of his face.
âOpen wide,â you sang, your voice lilting with dark amusement. He clenched his jaw shut, his entire body trembling in revulsion.
âOh, come on,â you said, your tone darkening, the glint in your eyes dangerous. âDonât make me force you.â
When he didnât comply, you grabbed his jaw with one hand, squeezing until his mouth popped open with a guttural cry. You shoved the charred piece of meat inside, your gloved fingers pressing it against his tongue.
âChew,â you commanded, your voice icy. He gagged, tears streaming down his face as he bit down reluctantly. The crunch of the scorched tissue was nauseating, and his sobs grew louder as he swallowed.
You purred mockingly, patting his cheek with your bloodstained glove. âNow wasnât that delicious?â You turned back to the chat, where the messages were pouring in, a cacophony of unhinged excitement and demands for more.
You turned your attention back to the man, his face contorted with pure, unfiltered terror. His sobs were erratic, broken by sharp intakes of breath as he trembled beneath your gaze.
âAh,â you sighed theatrically, dragging a gloved finger along the edge of his mangled arm. âAll this lovely flesh⌠it feels like such a waste, doesnât it?â
He whimpered, shaking his head in weak protest, his voice barely above a whisper. âPlease... no more...â
But your grin only widened, a glint of sadistic delight in your eyes. âOh, come now. You donât want to waste the gift of life, do you? And whatâs more personal than⌠sharing a part of yourself?â
You picked up a small, serrated blade, twirling it deftly for the camera. The chat was ablaze, cheering you on, demanding more. One message caught your eye: "Feed him to himself! Ultimate justice!"
âSuch a poetic suggestion,â you mused aloud, chuckling softly. Then, without hesitation, you grabbed his wrist and pressed the blade into the fleshy part of his palm. He screamed as you sawed through the muscle, carving a small, bloodied chunk free. The meat dangled grotesquely from the tip of the knife as you held it up for the camera.
âHere we go,â you cooed, bringing the knife closer to his face. He thrashed weakly, his body utterly spent from the torment. âOpen wide, darling. Donât make me repeat myself.â
âNo! No, no, no!â he cried, his voice cracking, but his defiance only seemed to fuel your amusement. You let out an exaggerated sigh before pinching his jaw open once again, forcing the piece of his own flesh past his lips.
âChew,â you commanded firmly, your voice like steel. He hesitated, and you pressed the flat of the blade against his throat. âNow.â
Tears streamed down his face as he obeyed, his teeth grinding against the sinewy meat. The sound was sickening, wet and gristly, and his gagging made it clear he was fighting every instinct to spit it out. But you wouldnât let him.
âSwallow,â you ordered, your tone low and threatening. His throat bobbed as he choked the piece down, and you clapped your hands together mockingly.
âBravo!â you said, turning to the camera with a playful smirk. âHeâs such a good boy for all of us, isnât he?â
The chat exploded with messages: "More!" "Make him eat more of himself!" "This is ART!"
You hummed thoughtfully, glancing down at your trembling victim. âWell, chat has spoken,â you said cheerfully, picking up the blade again. âLetâs see how much more we can get before he starts losing consciousness, shall we?â
His scream echoed through the room as the blade met his flesh once more.
The manâs screams turned to desperate sobs, his head lolling weakly as he struggled to stay conscious. Blood dripped steadily onto the cold floor, pooling beneath him in dark, sticky puddles.
âP-please,â he gasped, his voice hoarse and broken. âPlease⌠just kill me. End it. I canât⌠I canât take anymore.â
You tilted your head, as if considering his plea, the blowtorch still idling in your hand with its ominous hiss. âKill you?â you echoed, your tone light and almost amused. âOh, but whereâs the fun in that? If I just kill you now, weâll miss out on all the potential, all the possibilities.â
Tears streamed down his face, mixing with sweat and blood. âPleaseâŚâ he whispered, his words barely audible. âIâm begging you...â
You knelt down, bringing yourself to eye level with him, your mask glinting in the harsh light. âBegging, huh?â you murmured. âYou begged your wife, too, didnât you? When you hit her? When youââ You didnât finish the sentence, your voice curling into icy disdain.
His eyes widened, his breath hitching as shame and fear mingled in his expression. âI... I was wrong... I know! Please, I deserve it! Justâjust make it stop!â
You let out a soft, almost pitying laugh, reaching out to cup his bloodied cheek. He flinched at your touch, but you held him firmly, your grip unrelenting.
âOh, sweetheart,â you purred mockingly, âdeath would be a mercy. And mercy is something you donât deserve. Not yet.â
You leaned closer, your voice dropping to a whisper. âYou donât get to take the easy way out. Youâll suffer, piece by piece, just like your victims did. Youâll feel every ounce of their pain until thereâs nothing left of you but regret and broken pieces.â
The man sobbed uncontrollably, shaking his head as if trying to deny the reality of your words. âNo⌠no more⌠pleaseâŚâ
You straightened up, flicking the blowtorch off with a decisive click. âYouâre not going anywhere, darling,â you said, your voice saccharine yet sharp. âWeâve only just begun.â
Turning back to the camera, you offered your viewers a cheerful wave. âChat, should we take this slow and savor it? Or should we get creative with our next session? Let me know!â
You turned back to the screens, your voice bright and chillingly cheerful.
"Who's ready for the grand finale?" you announced, the smile behind your mask almost audible. "You came here for blood, and blood you shall receive!"
From behind your back, you produced a knife, holding it out toward the broken man slumped before you.
"Here," you said softly, almost kindly. "They want to see blood. So give it to them. It's the least you can do."
His trembling eyes flicked to the blade in your hand, a flicker of understanding and horror crossing his face. Slowly, his shackled hands reached out, the sound of metal scraping against metal filling the tense air.
"They want blood," you repeated, your voice a honeyed whisper as he grasped the knife. "Give it to them. Become the spectacle you always were."
He stared at the weapon in his shaking hands. The weight of it felt heavier than it should have, as though it carried more than just steel. His breath hitched, and with a sharp intake of air, he slashed at his own arm.
The cut was clumsy but deep, a line of crimson blooming against pale flesh. He gasped, then slashed againâharder this time, more frantic. Blood began to pool, spilling over his lap and onto the floor.
You took a step back, folding your arms as you watched him spiral into madness. The audience in the chat was electric, messages flooding in with cheers and disbelief.
He was unraveling. Youâd broken him.
The knife hovered at his stomach now, the trembling tip pressing into soft flesh. He froze, unsure, his blood-slicked fingers hesitating.
You tilted your head, your voice dropping to a low, venomous hiss. "Do it. Die by your own hands, bastard. Thatâs your punishment. Become the showâlike you did to her."
His eyes widened, a flicker of defiance mingling with despair, but it wasnât enough. With a sickening squelch, he plunged the knife into his own abdomen. His scream was raw, guttural, the sound of a man tearing himself apart.
You stepped closer, kneeling before him as he coughed up blood, the crimson liquid staining his chin. Without hesitation, you grasped his trembling hands and guided them.
"Deeper," you commanded coldly, dragging the blade through layers of flesh and muscle.
The room echoed with his wet, choking cries as his insides began to spill from the gaping wound. He dropped the knife with a clatter, his bloodied fingers fumbling to touch the viscera now exposed to the cold air.
And then, trembling and weak, he reached inside himself, his expression one of awe and horror as he grasped something warm and slick. With a guttural cough, he pulled it freeâa glistening, pulsating mass dripping with blood and bile.
The chat erupted. Messages flew by faster than you could read them, a frenzy of horror, fascination, and exhilaration.
You smiled, rising to your feet and turning to the camera.
"Now that," you said, your voice calm and composed, "is what it means to put on a show."
You stepped closer, the glint of something metallic catching the light as you unraveled a thin, taut wire from your pocket. The man, slumped and delirious, barely registered what you were doing until you slipped it around his neck.
"PleaseâŚ" he croaked, his voice shredded and weak. "Let me live⌠Iâll do anythingâ"
You pulled the wire tight.
The sharp, strangled gasp he let out was drowned by the symphony of his panicked gurgles. His hands shot up instinctively, clawing at the wire digging deep into his skin, but it was useless.
"Live?" you mocked, your voice lilting like a twisted lullaby. "You want to live after everything youâve done? After you begged me to kill you just moments ago? Make up your mind, darling."
He choked, his eyes bulging as blood trickled from the thin, precise lacerations forming around his throat. His body convulsed, every muscle spasming in desperation, but your grip on the wire remained steadfast, unyielding.
The room echoed with his choking cries, the metallic scent of blood thickening in the air.
"Beg louder," you sneered, leaning in close. "Scream if you want to be heard, but I donât think anyoneâs listening."
He gurgled, his words reduced to wet, incoherent gasps as the life drained from his face. You held the wire tighter, your own bloodied hands tremblingânot from exertion, but from the sheer euphoria coursing through you.
And then, with one final shudder, his body went limp.
The blood pooling beneath him was a gruesome masterpiece, and his lifeless eyes stared at nothing, wide with terror. The room fell silent except for your own ragged breathing.
And then you laughed.
It started as a soft chuckle, but it grewâwild, unhinged, echoing off the walls like a symphony of chaos. The chat erupted in hysteria, but you barely noticed. You were drunk on the moment, every fiber of your being alight with exhilaration.
You wiped the blood from your hands onto your already-stained clothes, turning back to the camera.
"Well," you said, your grin audible even through the mask, "that was fun, wasnât it?"
You continued to laugh, a manic, bone-chilling sound that filled the empty space, bouncing off the cold walls. It wasnât just amusementâit was the high of control, of domination, of having broken another soul to your will. The laughter bubbled up, unstoppable, each giggle darker than the last.
The chat exploded, flooding the screen with messages, all calling for more, egging you on. You could see it in their words, in the thirst for the chaos you just unleashed. They wanted more, always more. But you knewâno one could handle what you had just done.
"Look at him," you said, still laughing, voice crackling with delight. "What a beautiful mess he is. The blood. The agony. His desperate attempts to cling to life... Pathetic."
Your fingers traced the outline of the knife, still slick with the remnants of his suffering. The screen flickered for a moment, the feedback of the camera shifting with the sickening pleasure you felt watching the lifeless body slump in its final form. You wiped your lips with your sleeve, almost theatrically, as if savoring the last drops of something far sweeter than any wine.
The room, drenched in the aftermath, felt like a stageâyour stage. Your laughter rang out, drowning the voices of the audience, who had become no more than background noise to your performance.
"Don't you love it, darling?" you murmured, the smile on your face never leaving. "This is what you wanted, right? This is what all of you wantâsomeone, anyone, willing to go just a little bit further, to rip it all apart for the thrill."
You leaned into the camera, your voice low and seductive, the mask a mere formality now.
"Tell me, what next? What should we do with the next one? Hmm?"
You leaned back, the laughter from the screen still lingering in your throat. It echoed in your mind as you looked at the chat, the names disappearing one by one until only one remained.
Goreboy69.
You smiled, a cold, knowing smile that stretched across your face, and without breaking eye contact with the camera, you spoke directly to him.
âStay,â you commanded, voice dripping with malicious sweetness.
He typed back, confused: âHm? What is it?â
You let the silence hang between your words. Slowly, deliberately, you met his gaze through the lens, unblinking, like you were staring into the very core of his soul.
"Are you the Devil's Butcher?" you asked, your voice as calm and steady as if you were asking about the weather.
The response was almost instant, "Huh? Looks like Someone's onto me? What now Darling?"
Mockingly, you chuckled. Of course, you knew who he was. âhe just didnât realize it yet. But that was part of the fun, wasnât it? Keeping him in the dark while you played your own game.
You leaned in, your lips curling into an even darker grin as you addressed him through the screen, voice sharp.
âSo, how was the show tonight?â you asked. Your smile widened. "Did you enjoy the blood?"
He replied quickly, boasting: âPretty good, still not as good as me in gore. I could teach you.â
Your laughter bubbled up again, light but chilling. âTeach me? Oh, darling, I think you should learn from me,â you teased, not bothering to hide the amusement in your voice. âBut Iâll give you one thing... the next showâs guest will be you.â
You paused, letting the weight of your words sink in. Then, you finished with a final, gleeful laugh.
âBe ready for a bloodbath, Ronin Beaufort. HAHAHAHA!â
And just like that, you ended the stream, the screen going black as you leaned back, savoring the thrill. You'd sent him a message.
Ronin's mind spun with confusion and amusement as he muttered to himself, his hand tapping the edge of the table. "How the hell did they know my name?" He laughed softly, though there was something darker behind it, a smirk curling on his lips as he leaned back in his chair.
It was a question that gnawed at him, a puzzle he couldnât quite solve. The cryptic message, the strange connection... it didnât sit well, but something about it ignited a spark. Maybe it was the audacity of the person on the other side, maybe it was how easily they played his game.
The Devil, after all, was always watching, always playing his cards.
His smile widened as he whispered under his breath, almost to himself, âPretty good... but Iâll show âem whoâs really in charge.â There was that same glint in his eyes, the one that screamed danger and thrill, the one that promised nothing but chaos to whoever dared to provoke him.
His fingers hovered over the keyboard again, he typed slowly, savoring the weight of every word. His thoughts dripped with venom as he set the next scene in motion.
The next day, you noticed something strange in the server. Ronin was acting⌠off, or at least, different than usual. He had pinged V, of all peopleâV, the one person who hated his guts, almost as much as Ronin loved messing with him. But this time, it wasnât the usual insults or jabs. No, this time, Ronin dropped a chilling message.
"Damn @k9, someoneâs gonna kill your kill."
You understood immediately. He was playing a game, one that only he fully understood, but you weren't going to let him take the lead on this.
You didnât respond right away, though. You knew better than to react impulsively. Instead, you asked, "What happened?" knowing full well what he was talking about. You wanted him to keep talking, to give you more.
In the middle of all this, there was V. The thorn in Ronin's side, and the perfect counter to everything Ronin stood for. Their relationship was a mess of contradictions. On the surface, they were complete oppositesâV, the so-called "righteous" killer, and Ronin, the chaotic force of evil. They didnât like each other, of course. But somewhere beneath that intense animosity, there was something else. A kind of respect, even if they wouldnât admit it.
Neither of them would ever say it out loud, especially not under threat of torture, but the truth was, they were perfect for each other. V, with his morality complex, hated Ronin because he embodied everything wrong with humanity, while Ronin despised V for trying to impose some false sense of order on the chaos of the world. It was a dangerous and sickening dance they did, each one trying to outdo the other, each one pushing the other further into madness.
Ronin never minded baiting V. He enjoyed it too much. The way Vâs righteous fury bubbled over, how it drove him to action. It was all so easy. But the thing that bothered Ronin, that gnawed at him in ways he wouldnât show, was the simple fact that V hated him for being everything V wanted to fix. Ronin loved every minute of it.
And now? It was getting worse. Everyone in the server was worried. Angelic had even mentioned something about a streamer saying they were going to kill Ronin. Even she was doing something to find who it was... Even V was searching for the address. The irony was thick enough to cut with a knifeâV trying to play hero, trying to hunt down someone like Ronin, all while completely ignoring the hypocrisy of his own existence.
Ronin, though, wasnât worried. He was too smug for that.
âAww, someoneâs worried for me?â Ronin typed, his usual teasing tone evident. âVâs trying to find the address to kill me before they get the chance, huh?â
You rolled your eyes at his cocky attitude and typed back, âShut up. Why are you so excited about dying?â You were practically daring him to answer, testing his response, knowing he'd find a way to twist it into some dark joke.
Roninâs reply came quickly, and you could almost hear the smirk through the screen. âExcited? Nah. Just thinkinâ about how boring itâd be to die by someone elseâs hand. Iâll die on my terms. Iâll kill them first.â
But you knew better. Ronin, for all his bravado, wasnât the type to shy away from death. In fact, heâd almost welcome it, in his own twisted way. He loved the game, the thrill of it all. So why was he suddenly talking about being killed? Why the warning, the cryptic messages, the tension?
âRoninâŚâ You typed, your tone taking on a darker edge. âYou wouldnât really let them kill you, would you?â
Ronin didnât respond immediately, and that silence left you with a sense of unease you werenât used to with him. Heâd always been a step ahead, unpredictable, always knowing the game and how to play it. But this⌠this felt different.
You stared at the screen, your hands trembling slightly as you typed. His words echoed in your head, and despite the cruel taunting, something deep within you twisted. You had expected it, of course. Ronin thrived on chaos, on destruction, and on pushing others into the darkest corners of their minds.
But there was a moment of vulnerability in him nowâsomething that made your chest tighten as the realization hit you: you couldn't let him die. Not like this. Not in the hands of anyone but you.
You typed the words, your fingers frozen for a second before they continued moving, faster now, more desperate.
"I won't let you die, Ronin," you wrote, your voice a little shakier than you intended. "I won't... I can't."
The silence on the other side of the screen seemed to stretch. Then came his response, a taunt dripping with condescension. "Pathetic," he typed, his words sharp and mocking. "You really think I need saving?"
A bitter laugh followed. "Even if I die, itâs not the end of the world, darling. Itâs just another show. Another performance. Youâll move on, just like everyone else."
You felt a pang in your chest. The words cut deeper than you expected. This wasnât just a game to him. For Ronin, death was something he'd flirted with for so long, it had become a part of his identity, a mask he wore as comfortably as his twisted smile. But hearing it, coming from him... it stung more than you'd like to admit.
You stared at the message for a long time, fighting the gnawing feeling in your gut. But then, slowly, you typed back.
"Stop. Just stop," you wrote, your voice softer, though still tinged with an underlying desperation. "You think it's just another show, but itâs not. Not for me. You can't just throw your life away... again."
For a moment, you could almost hear him chuckle through the screen. The nerve of himâacting like he was invincible, untouchable. He wanted to break you, wanted to make you feel like you were just another part of his endless game. But you wouldnât play by his rules anymore. You couldn't.
You stared at his last message. "What if I want to die, though?" it read. "What if thatâs the only way out? You canât save me, sweetheart. Iâm too far gone."
Your heart raced, but there was no time to waste. You didn't care how twisted he was, how deep in his madness he had fallen. You couldnât let him slip through your fingers.
"Youâre not beyond saving," you typed quickly, almost angrily. "Donât you dare say that. Youâre not too far gone for me."
He was silent again, but his presence hung in the air, like a storm waiting to break. You could feel itâhis confusion, his teasing, and yet... maybe something else. Maybe something beneath it all that he never let anyone see.
Your eyes blurred with tears as you typed, every word feeling heavier than the last. You couldn't shake the longing that twisted inside of you, the need to see him again. Not through a screen, not in the hollow confines of this digital game youâd both become part of. You wanted himâno, you needed himâalive, in front of you, where you could touch him, see the chaos in his eyes up close.
You wiped your face hastily, trying to fight the burning desperation in your chest. It wasnât about saving him anymore. It was something darker, something far more dangerous.
"I want to see you," you typed, the words flowing out like a whispered confession, full of ache and longing. "I want to see you in purgatory alley side again..."
You paused for a moment, your heart pounding in your throat. The alley was their place. A place where you had both walked the line between pleasure and pain, life and death. You had felt his presence there, so close, so real, and now, you wanted it again.
You typed the final words with a trembling hand. "Come to me."
For a moment, the screen sat still. There was no immediate response. You could almost hear his voice in your headâsmirking, mocking you, telling you how absurd you were for asking. But you needed it. You needed him to walk into the space between you, to make this more than words, more than empty threats.
His response came, slow and deliberate. "You want to see me?"
You took a deep breath, holding back another wave of emotion. "Yes. I want you to come."
There was a silence on the other end. And then his message blinked onto the screen, full of that same mocking tone you had come to expect from him.
"Well, well... Youâre either braver than I thought, or just as insane as me. Purgatory it is then. Iâll be there, sweetheart. You better be ready for what you asked for."
Your breath caught in your throat. There it was. He was coming.
You closed your eyes for a moment, the rush of emotion overwhelming.
The alley smelled of damp concrete and rust, the cold air biting at your skin as you stood there, heart pounding with anticipation. Your eyes searched through the shadows, the darkness swallowing the world around you. Then, you saw him.
Leaning casually against the wall, his posture relaxed, but his eyes sharp, full of that twisted amusement you both thrived on. Ronin stood there, his crowbar slung over his shoulder, the faint moonlight glinting off its metal surface. His presence was unmistakableâalmost like a storm just waiting to break.
The moment your eyes locked, your heart skipped a beat. Every rational thought in your mind scattered to the winds. You stepped forward without thinking, your body moving on its own as if it was drawn to him like gravity itself.
And then, without hesitation, you threw yourself into his arms.
His surprise was fleeting, replaced quickly with that unmistakable, dangerous smirk. He let you hug him, but the laugh that escaped his lips was laced with mocking curiosity.
"Whatâs wrong?" His voice was low, almost playful, but you could hear the darkness underneath, that ever-present edge. He didnât push you away, but the way he tilted his head, his crowbar now hanging loosely in his hand, was a challengeâa dare.
You pressed your face into his neck, your breath coming out in ragged sobs. Tears spilled down your face, but you didnât care. They mixed with the blood on your lips, your emotions raw and unfiltered. You could feel the heat of his body, the weight of his presence anchoring you to reality. Your lips brushed against the cold skin of his neck as you whispered, "I just⌠wanted to see you. Wanted to feel you hereâŚ"
He stood still for a moment, seemingly unbothered by your tears, before letting out a soft, cruel chuckle. His fingers ran lightly through your hair, the gesture tender but twisted, like he enjoyed the way you broke down in his presence.
"Youâre pathetic," he mused, his voice almost a mockery of concern, though the hint of something elseâsomething darkerâlingered. His breath was warm against your ear as he leaned in closer. "You think Iâm gonna save you? Is that it?"
You could feel the tension in his muscles, his amusement mingled with something far more dangerous. You pulled yourself tighter against him, not wanting to let go. He was everything you wanted, everything you needed, and yet, the line between pain and pleasure was so fine with him.
"No," you whispered, your voice breaking as you pulled away just enough to look into his eyes. "I don't want you to save me, Ronin... I just need you here. I need you to show me that you see me. That you care."
For a brief moment, the world seemed to pause, as if the air itself held its breath. Roninâs eyes darkened, his smirk deepening into something far more dangerous. His fingers slid from your hair to your throat, a gentle pressure that felt more like a promise than a threat.
"You want to know if I care?" He whispered back, his voice so quiet, you could barely hear it over the sound of your own heartbeat. "You already know the answer to that, sweetheart. But be careful what you wish for..."
With a sudden, predatory movement, he tilted your chin up to meet his gaze, his thumb brushing over your lips. The raw energy between you both crackled, and for a moment, the world outside this alleyâthis twisted momentâdidnât exist.
And then he laughed again, that same dangerous laugh, before leaning in just enough to press his lips to the shell of your ear.
"Youâre mine," he said softly, "and Iâm not letting you go. Not now. Not ever."
The alley smelled of damp concrete and rust, the cold air biting at your skin as you stood there, heart pounding with anticipation. Your eyes searched through the shadows, the darkness swallowing the world around you. Then, you saw him.
Leaning casually against the wall, his posture relaxed, but his eyes sharp, full of that twisted amusement you both thrived on. Ronin stood there, his crowbar slung over his shoulder, the faint moonlight glinting off its metal surface. His presence was unmistakableâalmost like a storm just waiting to break.
The moment your eyes locked, your heart skipped a beat. Every rational thought in your mind scattered to the winds. You stepped forward without thinking, your body moving on its own as if it was drawn to him like gravity itself.
And then, without hesitation, you threw yourself into his arms.
His surprise was fleeting, replaced quickly with that unmistakable, dangerous smirk. He let you hug him, but the laugh that escaped his lips was laced with mocking curiosity.
"Whatâs wrong?" His voice was low, almost playful, but you could hear the darkness underneath, that ever-present edge. He didnât push you away, but the way he tilted his head, his crowbar now hanging loosely in his hand, was a challengeâa dare.
You pressed your face into his neck, your breath coming out in ragged sobs. Tears spilled down your face, but you didnât care. They mixed with the blood on your lips, your emotions raw and unfiltered. You could feel the heat of his body, the weight of his presence anchoring you to reality. Your lips brushed against the cold skin of his neck as you whispered, "I just⌠wanted to see you. Wanted to feel you hereâŚ"
He stood still for a moment, seemingly unbothered by your tears, before letting out a soft, cruel chuckle. His fingers ran lightly through your hair, the gesture tender but twisted, like he enjoyed the way you broke down in his presence.
"Youâre pathetic," he mused, his voice almost a mockery of concern, though the hint of something elseâsomething darkerâlingered. His breath was warm against your ear as he leaned in closer. "You think Iâm gonna save you? Is that it?"
You could feel the tension in his muscles, his amusement mingled with something far more dangerous. You pulled yourself tighter against him, not wanting to let go. He was everything you wanted, everything you needed, and yet, the line between pain and pleasure was so fine with him.
"No," you whispered, your voice breaking as you pulled away just enough to look into his eyes. "I don't want you to save me, Ronin... I just need you here. I need you to show me that you see me. That you care."
For a brief moment, the world seemed to pause, as if the air itself held its breath. Roninâs eyes darkened, his smirk deepening into something far more dangerous. His fingers slid from your hair to your throat, a gentle pressure that felt more like a promise than a threat.
"You want to know if I care?" He whispered back, his voice so quiet, you could barely hear it over the sound of your own heartbeat. "You already know the answer to that, sweetheart. But be careful what you wish for..."
With a sudden, predatory movement, he tilted your chin up to meet his gaze, his thumb brushing over your lips. The raw energy between you both crackled, and for a moment, the world outside this alleyâthis twisted momentâdidnât exist.
And then he laughed again, that same dangerous laugh, before leaning in just enough to press his lips to the shell of your ear.
"Youâre mine," he said softly, "and Iâm not letting you go. Not now. Not ever."
As soon as the air between you and Ronin thickened with a tension you both reveled in, your smile twisted into something darkâsomething sinister. Your grip tightened around his neck for just a moment, and in that instant, you pulled something from your pocket.
A handkerchief, folded neatly. He didnât even have time to register the movement before it was pressed firmly against his mouth and nose. The scent of the sedative hit his nostrils almost immediately, and his eyes narrowed in suspicion. But the familiar coldness of the chemical didn't take long to overwhelm him.
"What the hell...?" His voice was muffled, his words slurred as his body began to react to the drug. His vision blurred, his breath growing shallow, his mind starting to fog. His knees buckled, and before he knew it, the floor met him with a sickening thud.
You stepped back, watching him fall to the ground, his face contorting in a mix of confusion and disbelief. He tried to fight, tried to push himself up, but the sedative had already taken hold, dragging him into unconsciousness. He collapsed, barely managing to lift his head to meet your eyes before everything went black.
For a long, still moment, you stood over him, watching the rise and fall of his chest, the way his body trembled slightly as he fought the drug's effects. Then, as his eyelids fluttered closed, his gaze locked with yours.
It was in that brief instant, when his eyes flickered open one last time, that he saw it. The unmistakable recognition in his pupils, the terror and realization sweeping over him like a storm. His lips parted, but no words came. Instead, the air grew heavy, thick with the understanding of who you were.
"Wait... you?" he mumbled, barely audible, his body too weak to do anything but watch.
You smiled at him, your grin widening as you leaned down, looking into his eyes with a strange, knowing gleam. "Surprised?" you teased, your voice soft but full of twisted satisfaction. "I told you, Ronin... you know me more than you think."
His breathing grew shallow as his eyes roamed over your face. There, in your eyes, he saw the same fire, the same malicious delight he'd witnessed in the streamer's gazeâthe one he'd taunted, the one he'd laughed at. The one who had watched him, followed his every move. The one who had been waiting for this moment.
His voice barely a whisper. "The streamer... itâs you."
You giggled softly, leaning in close to his ear, your lips brushing against his skin as you whispered, "Yes. Itâs me, Ronin. The one who knows all about you. The one who's been waiting for the right moment. The one whoâs going to make sure you never see the light of day again."
His eyes fluttered, and his body began to tremble, the realization sinking in deeper, but it was already too late. His body went limp, and the last thing he saw before succumbing to the sedative was the twisted satisfaction in your gaze.
As Ronin slowly regained consciousness, his mind felt sluggish, weighed down by the remnants of the sedative still clouding his thoughts. His body was stiff, his limbs heavy, and his vision was blurry at first. But as he blinked, trying to clear the fog, the familiar darkness of the alley came into focus.
What stood out more than anything, though, was the suffocating sensation around his face. He lifted a hand, but before he could fully process what was happening, he realized it was a mask. A mask... of him.
His butcher mask.
It was molded to his face, covering him completely, suffocating him in its dark, twisted representation of himself. The leather was tight against his skin, the eye holes just barely allowing him to see through.
He didnât panicâno. Ronin wasnât the type to panic. Not even when things were twisted, even when the situation felt... off. A faint, mocking smile tugged at the corner of his lips as he moved his fingers to touch the mask.
"Not bad," he murmured to himself, a low chuckle escaping his lips. "A little... personal, though."
He shifted slightly, his hands trying to pry at the mask, but something was holding him in place, binding him. And then it hit himâhe wasnât alone. The presence of another person in the room, in the shadows, made his skin crawl. He could feel their eyes on him.
The sudden realization surged through his veins like a lightning bolt. It was you. The streamer.
Without thinking, his eyes darted around, and he saw the familiar glow of a screenâthe soft light of a chat window blinking to life before his very eyes. Your messages were appearing, and the chilling thought settled in his chest: You were here. You were typing, watching, playing the game.
The recognition was immediate. Your words, your tone, your presenceâit all clicked into place. Youâd been there all along, watching, waiting, controlling the narrative. The same person who had laughed at his pain, tormented him, had been the one watching all along.
With a mocking grin, Ronin let out a slow breath. He sat up, casually tossing the mask aside as if it were just a trivial part of his game. But his words? They were a challenge. A flirtation, as always, despite the situation.
"Youâve been a sneaky little thing, havenât you?" Roninâs voice was smooth, teasing, like he was having a conversation with a lover, not someone who had just drugged and trapped him. "I knew you were watching me. Thought I was gonna be surprised? Nah, darling... Iâve got my ways."
He leaned back, stretching his arms out and crossing one leg over the other, a relaxed confidence radiating from him. His eyes never left the screen, his gaze dark, but not one of fear. No. He was intrigued. There was no fear in his eyesâonly amusement.
"You didnât think you could hide from me forever, did you?" He tilted his head slightly, a smirk forming on his lips. "Funny, though. Here I am, thinking you're just a little puppet, hiding behind the screen. But now..." His voice trailed off, and his smile widened into something predatory, playful. "Now youâve got me curious."
He looked straight into the camera, making sure you could see him. His words dripped with flirtation, but there was a dangerous undertone hidden beneath it.
"You think youâre the only one who can make things interesting? Youâre not the only one who plays with knives, darling."
He let out a soft laugh, completely unbothered by the situation, like it was just another game. Another round of their twisted dance.
"You know, I really should be scared," he continued, his voice low, teasing. "But hereâs the thing, sweetheart. The Devil doesnât get scared. He plays." He leaned in closer to the camera, his face now inches away from the lens, a twisted gleam in his eyes.
"But you..." He paused, his voice turning darker. "You might just be worth my time."
As he finished speaking, he leaned back again, eyes still locked on the screen, a glimmer of curiosity, a bit of arrogance, and far too much self-assurance in his gaze.
"And I know youâre there, darling," he added, smirking knowingly. "Now, why donât you tell me... whatâs the next game?"
He didnât expect an answer immediatelyâ
He saw again and saw a camera.
The camera in your hands felt heavy, its cold weight a stark contrast to the boiling tension in the room. You didnât speak, didnât respond to his words. You just focused on him, the lens capturing his every move, his every word. Your silence was deliberate, a choice. The camera was an extension of yourself now, recording the scene as though it were the most mundane thing in the world.
He noticed the shift. His eyes locked onto the lens, and a smirk danced on his lips. His words were laced with mockery, yet there was something deeperâa strange admiration, perhaps, mixed with that edge of chaos that defined him.
âIs this the beauty all of your victims saw?â he mused aloud, his voice soft and mocking. âWhy would anyone curse you? Youâre so messed up and pretty. How could they curse you, darling?â He almost whispered the last part, as if he were speaking to a lover. âEat my darling. That's what they should have said."
His eyes sparkled with a strange blend of adoration and twisted fascination. He leaned in slightly, watching the camera, his movements languid, almost playful. The way he spoke your name, darling, twisted into something sick and possessive, as though he were admiring a beautiful, broken object that he couldnât quite get enough of.
The words stung, but you didn't react. You kept recording, capturing his every movement, the play of emotions on his face, the dark gleam in his eyes. There was an intensity in the air, thick and suffocating, and you couldnât help but wonder if he knewâif he realized exactly what he was saying.
Ronin tilted his head to the side, watching your reactionâor lack thereofâwith increasing amusement. He was a master at reading people, but you... you werenât giving him anything.
âThatâs what they saw, right? The beauty,â he continued, laughing softly. âHow could they? Look at you.â His eyes drifted over you with an almost affectionate intensity, as if he were cataloging every inch of your being. âThey were too weak to see the truth. Youâre not messed up, darling. Youâre perfect. You just needed the right... touch.â
His grin widened, teeth glinting as he leaned back again, the air around him practically crackling with the chaos he always embraced so effortlessly.
âI like this,â he said, his voice low, almost purring with satisfaction. âYou donât talk, you donât react. It's like... youâre letting me run the show. But you know what? Thatâs fine with me. Iâll be the one to take charge, sweetheart.â
Roninâs gaze softened for a split second, just long enough for a flicker of something almost tender to surface. But then it was gone, replaced by that same dangerous gleam.
âYou know, I donât mind being your monster," he said, voice thick with mocking affection. âBut let me make this clear: youâre the only one who can make me feel... alive.â
His words were twisted, like everything else about him. Still, there was an undeniable sincerity buried underneath the layers of cruelty. He was in this moment, with you, and everything else didnât matter.
The camera was still recording, capturing everythingâhis madness, his seduction, his sick fascination with you. You could feel it, the weight of his gaze, the intensity of the atmosphere between you two.
But you didnât answer. Not yet. You were waiting for him to slip. Waiting for him to reveal more.
You set the camera down with a deliberate calmness, positioning it just right to capture both you and Ronin in the frame. The subtle click of the tripod adjusting its stance felt like the beginning of a ritual, a performance for an unseen audience. Your eyes remained locked on him as you adjusted the angles, ensuring that everything was perfect for the viewers.
The light from the screen flickered in the dim room, casting long shadows on the walls. The soft hum of the camera was a comforting constant, a background melody to the madness unfolding. You glanced toward the monitor, watching the feed from the camera, a brief moment of calm before the chaos resumed.
âWelcome, welcome!â you said, your voice sweet and casual, almost too casual, as though this were just another day. âI know, I know, youâve all been waiting for this. The main event. The Devilâs Butcher... here in my little corner of the world.â
You smiled at the camera, your eyes never leaving Roninâs. His expression had shifted, that dark gleam still in his eyes, but now there was a flicker of warinessâhe wasnât sure what was coming next.
âLetâs see how much fun we can have, shall we?â You took a step back, surveying him with a tilt of your head. The camera captured every detail of his tense posture, the way he was still watching you like a predator waiting for its chance to pounce.
âBut first... for those of you just joining, let me remind you what weâre here for. This is where the thrill starts, where the fun truly begins. Blood, chaos, and a whole lot of love,â you purred, emphasizing the last word with a teasing lilt. The dichotomy of the words you spokeâso sweet, yet dripping with maliceâseemed to delight you.
The chat was already buzzing, the messages flying by too fast to read, but you didnât need to. You already knew what they were expecting, what they were hoping for.
âYouâre all here to see the Devil. To see the Butcher. To see what happens when the world gets broken,â you continued, your voice dripping with dark amusement. You glanced at Ronin, that mockery still dancing in your eyes. âAnd oh, donât worry, darling. Youâll see. Youâll see it all.â
Roninâs lips quirked up at your words, though there was no warmth in the expressionâjust that dangerous, sharp edge he always carried. He wasnât scared. No, he was amused, even intrigued by the way you were playing the game. He liked this. He thrived on it.
âDonât think Iâm going to be your little puppet,â he said, his voice low, playful, though the undercurrent of threat was ever-present. "But Iâll play along. For now."
You gave him a quick, almost imperceptible nod. âGood boy. See, weâre all just here for the entertainment, arenât we? So letâs make it worth everyoneâs while.â
You looked back at the camera, your smile widening as you leaned in just enough to speak directly into the lens, your voice dripping with a dangerous sweetness. âSit tight, chat. Weâre just getting started. You wouldnât want to miss this, would you?â
And with that, you pressed a button on the camera, the feed streaming live to your loyal viewers. The countdown had begun.
You glanced at the chat, the messages rolling by in a steady stream. . "A user had suggested a "friendly stream" one day! Can I do it today!"
âNo donations necessary today, folks,â you said with a smile, letting your voice drip with an eerie sweetness. âNo need to worry. Iâm in a good mood today. Just a nice, friendly stream⌠no gore⌠for now, anyway. Weâre all just having fun here, right?â
The chat seemed to react in kind, almost too kind. The usual thirst for violence had been replaced by a strange, almost sympathetic tone. You noticed the messages offering support, people telling you to take it easy today, to relax. A few even said they hoped you were okay.
You could feel Roninâs eyes on you, his brow furrowing, his confusion palpable as he watched you interact with the screen. It was as if the energy of the stream had changed, but not in the direction heâd anticipated.
You turned back toward him, flashing a grin, your eyes playful and mischievous.
âOh, come on, darling,â you purred, still reveling in the strange mood shift. âYou didnât think I was all that bad, did you? After all, youâre here with me.â You motioned to him with an exaggerated gesture, almost as if presenting him to the camera.
Roninâs gaze was steady, but his lips were pressed into a thin line. The words from the chat, the sudden shift, threw him off, and for once, he didnât quite know what to make of it.
âYou,â he finally muttered, his voice laced with that sharp, teasing edge, âare strange. I was expecting bloodshed, pain, chaos⌠but instead, youâre playing nice?â His tone was mocking, but there was a hint of uncertainty in his words.
You couldn't help but laugh, a soft, almost melodic sound that didnât quite match the usual intensity of the situation. You leaned back in your chair, your eyes narrowing playfully at him.
âStrange?â you repeated, tilting your head. âMaybe. Or maybe I just wanted to see how well you behave when thereâs no threat of death hanging over your head.â
Ronin raised an eyebrow at that. He didnât respond immediately, just watched you with that predatory gaze. He was never one to fully trust a change in dynamic, especially not with you, someone so unpredictable.
But you couldnât help but notice that despite his confusion, the tension between you two hadnât vanished. It was still there, only⌠softer now. Less lethal, more intimate.
Your smile deepened. You looked at him again, studying himâhis posture, his eyes, the familiar yet dangerous aura surrounding him. There was a strange comfort in knowing that, despite everything, he was still here with you. Your boyfriend, your devil, your butcher.
With a sudden movement, you stood from the chair, the casualness of the action almost mocking the seriousness of the moment. You walked over to him slowly, circling around him like a predator stalking its prey. He didnât flinch, didnât move. Instead, his eyes followed your every move.
You stopped just in front of him, leaning down to meet his gaze, your voice dropping to a whisper that only he could hear. âYouâre still mine, arenât you? Even with the whole world watching. Youâre my Butcher, my love⌠and Iâm not going to let anyone forget it.â
The chat continued to flow in the background, almost oblivious to the subtle power struggle that unfolded between the two of you. But in that moment, it didnât matter. What mattered was the game you were playing, the strange bond between you two, and the way the world could fade away when you looked into each otherâs eyes.
Roninâs lips curled into a smile, but it wasnât quite the same as before. It was more⌠genuine, though tinged with something darker, something that matched the chaos he carried inside. âYeah,â he murmured softly, his voice low and almost tender, âIâm still yours, darling.â
You turned back to the camera, smiling brightly as you addressed the chat one last time. âAnd that, my dear friends,â you said in a teasing tone, âwas the surprise guest of the dayâmy boyfriend.â You let the words hang in the air for a moment, enjoying the reactions in the chat. There was a flood of surprised, confused, and even excited messages filling the screen.
You could hear Roninâs soft laugh behind you as you clicked the button to end the stream. The chat still buzzing with comments, but now it was all just background noise. The show had come to its conclusion, and you had made your statementâloud and clear.
âAlright, that's it for today,â you said, your voice lighter now, almost playful. âDonât worry, weâll be back for more chaos soon. But for now... enjoy the rest of your day, everyone. Byeee!â
With a final click, the stream was over.
You turned toward Ronin, who was now slumped in the chair, his arms still bound. You circled around him slowly, the smile never leaving your face. He looked up at you, eyebrows raised in mock confusion.
âWhat the hell kind of shitty prank was that?â he asked, his tone still taunting. But as he saw your grin widen, something changed. He wasnât angryâfar from it. There was amusement there, that dark glint in his eyes that only you could see.
You crouched down in front of him, brushing a lock of hair from your face as you untied the ropes binding him. He didnât protest, didnât make a move. He was letting you have your moment, like always.
Once the ropes were gone, you leaned back, your gaze locked on his. âWell?â you giggled. âHowâs it feel, huh? Getting pranked by your own girlfriend?â
Ronin's laugh rang out, low and dark, as he rubbed at his wrists. His eyes sparkled with something dangerous, yet there was a strange satisfaction in his expression. âYou know, youâre fucking crazy,â he said, shaking his head, but his lips curled into a smile. âAnd thatââ he gestured around, to the mess, the stream, the tensionââwas fun. In its own fucked-up way.â
You laughed too, a light, musical sound that made the moment feel oddly intimate. He liked this, you knew it. He always liked the chaos, the unpredictability. It was his game, just as much as it was yours.
You leaned in close, your breath warm against his ear. âHowâs it feel, huh?â you whispered again. âBeing my Butcher... my boyfriend. Not so bad, right?â
His lips curled into that familiar grin, the kind that made your heart race. âNot bad at all,â he murmured, his voice laced with both affection and something darker. âBut next time... you better make it more interesting, darling.â
You pulled back slightly, both of you laughing again, the tension easing into something that felt almost comfortable. This was your world, your twisted little game, and Ronin? He was exactly where he wanted to be.
âWell, Iâll think of something,â you said, eyes glinting with mischief. âBut for now... youâre stuck with me.â
Ronin leaned back in the chair, his gaze never leaving you. âYeah,â he said, his voice calm but filled with an intensity that sent shivers down your spine. âI guess I am.â
FINN!
EXTRA!!
You blinked in and out of consciousness as the world around you swirled, your head pounding from the blow. The sensation of being bound was the first thing you registeredâa sharp, tight feeling around your wrists, the roughness of the rope digging into your skin. You tried to move, but your body felt heavy, too weak, the blood throbbing in your temples from the impact.
The voice that broke through the fog made you snap your head up, squinting in the dim light. It was harsh, low, filled with fury. "You killed the boss's son!" The words were spat at you, venomous, like a curse. A chill crawled up your spine as reality began to sink in.
You were no stranger to this world. You knew what it meant to be caught, to be seen as a target, but the mention of the "boss's son" made you pause. You barely processed it before the realization hit: another victim. Another person who would find out the hard way what you were capable of.
A dark, twisted thrill ran through your veins. You couldn't help the smirk that pulled at your lips, despite the blood in your mouth. Slowly, you gathered yourself, spitting the blood to the side with deliberate force. âOh, sweetie," you mocked, the taunting edge clear in your voice. "Did you really think you could get away with that?â
Your eyes narrowed as you scanned the space, trying to get a grip on the situation. You could feel the heat of their anger, the tension in the airâbut you weren't scared. No, you were too far gone for that.
The manâs voice cracked again, fury building in his tone. âYou think this is funny?! You killed my boss's sonâyou're gonna pay for this!â
You could hear the sound of footsteps as he moved toward you, but you didn't flinch. You'd been through worse, dealt with worse. This was just another round of the game.
Before you could say anything more, you felt a sharp strike to your sideâpain exploded in your chest, and the air was knocked from your lungs. Your body recoiled from the hit, the pain searing through you as you gasped for breath, but even then, you couldn't stop yourself from coughing, blood spilling from your mouth.
You laughed weakly, tasting the copper on your tongue. "Is that really the best youâve got?" you rasped, voice rough but still dripping with mockery. "You know, youâre gonna have to do better than that to break me.â
But even as you said it, you knew that this was just part of it. This was the game. You would play, you would mock, and you would survive. The game had rules, even if no one else followed them. You were never going to let them have the satisfaction of seeing you break.
The manâs grip tightened as he grabbed you by the chin, forcing you to look at him. His eyes burned with hatred. "Youâre not getting out of this alive."
You smiled, despite the blood that trickled down your face. "Weâll see about that, wonât we?"
As you lay there, tied up, the pain still radiating through your body from the earlier blows, a sense of desperation started creeping in. The room was dimly lit, shadows twisting across the walls like ominous figures. Your breath came in shallow gasps, a mixture of panic and confusion settling in as you tried to make sense of your surroundings.
The kidnapperâs voice had been relentless, his words cold and venomous as he taunted you about your past sins, about killing the bossâs son. The way he had spoken to you, the way he hit youâit made it clear that he had no intention of letting you go. Your mind raced, trying to think of a way out, but the ropes around your wrists and ankles were tight, the pain from the blows slowing your thoughts.
Panic began to bubble up inside you as the seconds ticked by. The blood in your mouth tasted metallic, and you could feel your vision blurring, your consciousness slipping. What if they actually did it? What if this was the end? For a split second, a feeling of helplessness crept in, and you wondered if there was any hope of getting out of this alive.
But you quickly shoved that thought away. You werenât done yet. You werenât about to let some random asshole decide when your story ended. You were strong, you were capable, and there was no way you were going to die hereânot like this. Yet, the doubt lingered, that small nagging feeling that maybe, just maybe, this time was different.
The air was thick with tension, and the kidnapperâs taunts grew louder as he circled you like a predator. "You're done, you sick freak. You're gonna pay for what you did."
And then, as if the world had turned against you, you felt the cold pressure of a blade pressed against your throat. A shiver ran down your spine as the kidnapper whispered in your ear, a sickening satisfaction in his voice. "Say goodbye."
In that moment, your heart began to race in earnest. The overwhelming sensation of death closing in on you, the sharp coldness of the blade against your skin, made everything feel so... real. The thought that you might actually die here, alone, with no one coming to save you, started to take hold. It wasnât just pain you were feeling nowâit was fear. For the first time, you werenât sure you could fight your way out of this one.
Then, as if summoned by the gods themselvesâor maybe just pure dumb luckâthere was a crash, the unmistakable sound of a door being kicked open. Your kidnapper froze, his grip loosening just slightly on the knife. The sudden noise filled you with a strange sense of hope, and for a moment, you dared to believe that maybe, just maybe, you werenât going to die after all.
"You're making a big mistake," a voice drawled, low and mocking. You knew that voice.
Ronin.
You barely had time to register what was happening before he was there, the sound of his footsteps so calm, so deliberate, as though he had all the time in the world. The kidnapper turned, panic flashing in his eyes for just a moment before it was replaced by defiance. "Who the hell are you?!" he demanded.
Ronin didnât answer right away, instead taking his time as he approached, the sound of his boots echoing through the room like a death knell. You could hear the smirk in his voice when he spoke again. "Youâve got two choices," he said, each word dripping with dark amusement. "You can either stop what youâre doing, or you can keep going. But Iâm not gonna lie to you, if you keep going... youâll regret it."
The kidnapper scoffed, clearly not intimidated. "And who the hell do you think you are? Some kind of hero?"
Roninâs laugh was low and menacing.
Before the words had even finished leaving his mouth, he was on the kidnapper, moving so fast you barely had time to process it. A violent struggle ensued, but Roninâs movements were fluid, calculatedâhe was in control, always. With one swift motion, the kidnapper was on the ground, gasping for air as Ronin stood over him, his weapon at the ready.
You let out a shaky breath, the panic starting to ebb away now that you knew Ronin was here. But there was still a part of you that couldnât help but feel shaken. You had almost died. The thought lingered in your mind as you watched Ronin handle the situation with ease. He wasnât even sweating.
"You know," Ronin said, looking down at the kidnapper with disdain, "I donât like people who think they can play with my partner." He glanced over at you, his eyes flicking up just enough for you to catch a glimpse of his signature smirk. "Howâs that for a rescue, darling?"
You couldnât help but smile through the lingering fear. "Youâre late," you teased, though the words came out weak.
Roninâs eyes narrowed, his smirk never faltering. "Would you prefer I let him finish the job?" he asked, mockingly. "Or did you want to enjoy the last few moments of your life without me?"
You laughed, despite everything. "Youâre a real asshole, you know that?"
"Yeah," Ronin said, kneeling down to untie your ropes. "But Iâm your asshole."
And just like that, everything felt like it was going to be okay again.
Ronin casually strode over to him, crowbar in hand. The sound of it scraping against the floor sent chills down your spine, but you couldn't tear your eyes away. You knew what was comingâRonin wasnât the type to leave loose ends.
With a single, swift motion, Ronin raised the crowbar high and brought it down hard, the metal connecting with the kidnapper's skull with a sickening crack. Blood sprayed in all directions, splattering across the room and even hitting you in the face. Ronin didnât flinch. He didnât even seem to care. He just kept going, each strike more violent than the last, the blood coating his hands and dripping from the crowbar as he worked his way through the kidnapperâs defenses.
The screams, the gurgles, and the sickening crunch of bones and flesh were drowned out by Roninâs low chuckle, as if the entire thing were some kind of sick performance. When he finally stopped, the kidnapperâs body was barely recognizable, a broken, mangled heap of blood and meat.
Ronin wiped the crowbar clean with a piece of cloth, tossing it aside like it was nothing. He looked over at you, his eyes gleaming with dark amusement, and gave you that twisted grin you knew so well.
"Now, thatâs how itâs done," he said, wiping blood from his cheek, as if the whole thing had been some kind of casual art project. "Thatâs what I call proper gore."
You stared at him, wide-eyed. The sheer audacity of the man. After all that, all that bloodshed, he looked at you like you were the one who had done something wrong.
"Your gore videos suck, by the way," he added nonchalantly, throwing you a glance as if he had just made a simple observation.
You blinked, your mind racing. "What?! Why the hell are you such a fan?" you shot back, a mixture of disbelief and irritation flooding your words. "You just killed someone in the most disgusting way possible, and now youâre criticizing my videos?"
Ronin chuckled darkly, that same cocky smile never leaving his face. He leaned back slightly, eyes narrowing with that predatory gleam. "Because Iâm the real deal, darling," he said smoothly, enjoying the shock on your face. "You just donât have that... finesse. Youâre all about the blood, the messâbut me?" He tossed his head, almost smug. "Iâm a master."
Your mouth hung open for a moment as you processed his words. He was the last person who should be criticizing anyoneâs gore skills, but here he wasâproud of the bloody chaos heâd just created.
You couldnât hold it in anymore. You stuck your tongue out at him playfully, the defiance in your eyes clear. "Well, maybe you should just teach me then," you said, a challenge in your voice. "Show me how itâs done."
Roninâs eyes gleamed as he leaned in, his smirk only widening. "Oh, trust me. Iâll teach you plenty," he said, his tone low and seductive, with an edge of something dangerous lurking beneath. "But, darling... donât get too cocky." He ran a hand through your hair, his touch strangely gentle compared to his previous violence. "You might not be able to handle what you learn."
You rolled your eyes, but despite everythingâRonin was a devil in his own right, but hell if he wasnât entertaining.
#killer chat#killer chat ronin#killer chat ronin x reader#killer chat x reader#ronin beaufort#ronin beaufort x reader#ronin killer chat#ronin x reader#killer chat vn#ronin#kc ronin
18 notes
¡
View notes
Text
Finally getting around to watching! I wasn't able to join this time around but we wanted you guys to get my opinions as well! I got a little burnt out so itâs not like a play by play on every episode but itâs some highlights of my thoughts.
Gds Favorite:Â
Best Christmas truly brought us one of the most impactful frames in television history, I genuinely can't think of another show that so smoothly presents it's thesis with a silent still of a character. I think it should be studied by anyone looking to make a TV show.Â
Blessed:Â
I wholeheartedly agree with you on Gds Chef, it's an episode that kind of separates people who can really understand Moral Orel from people who don't. BWHHAHA I loved Sena spraying you guys with the Clanielle water bottle, itâs ok you guys do the same thing to me with Holy Visage, it takes a village XDÂ
Lords Prayer is such a fun episode, on the surface âmoralton hates people who are different from themâ seems like a redundant concept, not to mention the superficial divide that christianity can cause, itâs a similar concept to what was explored in elemental orel. But the dynamic between Orel and Christina is really the star of the show, I get the sense that sheâs a little closer to the maliciously compliant sassy Orel we see later on. Thereâs the whole concept of girls maturing faster than boys that would really make a young girl cynical.
Turn the other cheek is another example of how talented the MO staff are, we see it all the time âoh i wish so and so would be miserable foreverâ âkys clayâ but we already have catharsis given to us through an immature lens and itâs written in a funny way that moves the story along.Â
Jesus:Â
Loyalty is a good example I think of knowing the rules before you can break them, the hamfisted foreshadowing as you guys put it only adds to the humor because of it's absurdity while still moving along our understanding of the story. The "you're nice" boys would have bumped it up to Blessed for me, but I'm generous LOL I agree that Gdâs Image just doesnât make it far enough to be blessed by the angels, itâs message is muddled at some points and can be pretty easily misconstrued at others. However, it is an all around solid episode outside of that. The interaction between the Figurellis and the Christiens is required watching to me. In general but also to understand the showâs attitude towards faith and the people who practice it, similar to Gds Visage. Iâm glad you guys settled on Jesus would have laughed for elemental orel, itâs another episode thatâs misunderstood byâŚfuck I sound like a rick and morty fan, but by people who the humor and writing style of the show just isnât for. Youâre not mad at the writers for making Orel scold someone doing an obviously good deed over going to church, youâre mad at christianity.Â
Good:Â
Good moments but not super memorable I think was the perfect way to define this tier, Omni's moment of showing just how small Bloberta's world is (dicing and slicing) is an all time quote that you can really sink your teeth in to.Â
I donât have to say much about Bartholomew. I just wanted to note that I agree the town seems incredibly flanderized.Â
Satans:Â
Wow I didn't know you guys were antisemetic /jÂ
My fellow Moralton professors know how annoying I am about this episode but you guys in the audience may not, I personally think Holy Visage gets a bad wrap in a similar way Gd's Chef does. I will concede, however, that it doesn't have that punch towards it's message that GC packs. I am also biased as grossout is usually a genre of things I love and I truly don't think it's that serious here, lol The reason, however, I say it gets a similar bad wrap to Gd's Chef is the erasure of the importance of Dr. Chosenbergs character, so I was very pleased to see you guys actually talk about the contents of his character. The good Drs faith is as important as Orels is to the show and to his character, maybe we can get in to that when we discuss the towns racism or somethingÂ
Genuises is so boring the only episode I actively skip
The concept of the main writers not writing an episode gets brought up a lot and Iâd be interested in hearing how the main writers feel about those episodes, it gets a little tricky because these scenes and episodes are still IN the show and should be taken seriously as aspects of the characters weâre being presented. Not just in the realm of presents for Gd and not just in the context of you guys analyzing the show, I mean in general.
youtube
2 AND A HALF HOUR CHRISTMAS TIER LIST
#moral orel#bloberta puppington#clay puppington#bloberta hymentact#danielle stopframe#orel puppington
27 notes
¡
View notes
Text
I am begging people to understand that criticising a character's actions doesn't mean you hate them and pointing out flaws in the writing and pacing of a show doesn't mean you hate it either.
#yes it's about arcane again#arcane#arcane season 2#arcane season 2 spoilers#jinx arcane#vi arcane#caitlyn kiramman#viktor arcane#jayce talis#ekko arcane#silco arcane#ambessa medarda#mel medarda#Heimerdinger#and just so you know the only character i hate in this show is fucking maddie fuck her i'm glad she died#caitvi#the only character who never made any mistakes (you already know who it is) was ekko#seriously tho people on twitter are always like 'you hate x but what about y and blah blah blah'#my brother in christ i do not hate them#geez
62 notes
¡
View notes
Text
ive come to realise that i dont actually hate kubokai, i just hate the way people write them
#sorry i read like two cute in character kubokai fics and im enjoying it now#theyre cute and im a closeted shun kinnie so. obviously i will ship him with my crush from the show.#i just really really REALLY hate the super cliche seme uke dynamic people usually give them#those people have NEVER watched the show.. my boy shun is NOT like that#its sooo stereotypical and they obviously give shun the role of 'the girl' in the relationship which is. um. ew#'shun is so fragile and innocent and uwu and he needs big strong aren around at all times to coddle him'#'and aren has a soft spot for shun and shun only and only shun can stop him from being totally murderous and dumb'#do yall know that one scene from the kissing booth#where elle is like 'NOAH! LOOK AT ME! THIS ISNT YOU! LOOK AT ME' when hes about to beat the shit outta his brother#thats how kubokai gets written usually#'aren pwease nevew fight againđĽşpwease? fow me?'#me reading anything kaido says in most fics: HE WOULD NOT FUCKING SAY THAT#sorry#people can write whatever they want its just. so ooc.#canon them is soooo bromance core#im sorry idk why im posting negative shit again when i like JUST said i wasnt going to do this anymore LMAO#not a callout post about anyone on here obvi- actually reading more recent fics from people on here is whats gotten me more into them#saiki k#tdlosk#the disastrous life of saiki k.#kuboyasu aren#kaido shun#kubokai#meows post
187 notes
¡
View notes
Text
Iâm genuinely so fucking sick of the âyou all would have loved it if it was Eddie who made that commentâ take.
First of all, Eddie wouldnât have made comment then, bc he knows how hard it is for Buck to talk about his emotions, & is REALLY good at giving him the space to talk about them, even if he does make jokes, theyâre not out of pocket (the coming out scene, anyone? Breaking the tension with a joke & still being supportive without making a joke of his feelings.)
Secondly, even if Eddie DID make that comment, Iâd probably still roll my eyes, but Iâd be more willing to accept it. Do you wanna know why???
Who was the person that knew the details of what Buck was talking to his therapist about during their emergency session before the Buckleyâs visit? Who is the first one they show at Buckâs side when he gets stuck in the warehouse trying to pull Saleh out after learning about Daniel?? Who is the one who was pacing downstairs in the station & making sure Buck was okay after the warehouse, and the one who warned him about his visitors??
Who was the one praying at Bobbyâs bedside, right next to Buck in the hospital?
(Iâll give you a hint, itâs not the dude thatâs had 10 minutes of fucking screen time that everyone forgot about post s1.)
It wouldnât have been the same bc TOMMY AND EDDIE ARE NOT THE SAME. They are not on the same level of knowing Buck & understanding when to make jokes & what jokes to make. Your best friend, partner & co-parent of 6 years and the man that you havenât even called your boyfriend yet are not on the same level of familiarity.
I get that youâre pissed that Tommy is being compared to Buckâs previous love interests (which would be the case, even if he wasnât just as shitty & uninterested in Buck as a person as they all were) but if you genuinely think that heâs anywhere near Eddieâs level, EVEN PLATONICALLY, then I fear that you have been watching another show entirely, & I encourage you to watch more than just s7, bc thatâs the only explanation I can come up with for why this fuck ass take exists.
#911 abc#buddie#this isnât really about the buddie relationship but I think itâs still relevant#Iâm so tempted to tag BT bc I think the ones saying this have lost the entire plot of the fucking show#but Iâve also only had like 8 hours of sleep in 2 days#& have almost had 3 panic attacks since Wednesday so I know Iâd probably regret it#911 discourse#hating on a storyline/joke/character â hating on a bunch of fans bc they donât enjoy the same things that you do#eddie diaz#evan buckley#ryan guzman#oliver stark#this could have been a sweet moment to show Tommy taking care of Buck#but instead he made yet ANOTHER shitty & ill timed joke#Eddie has been right beside Buck through his entire journey with his parents#that gives him the right to joke about it#a man who Buckâs been on 3-4 dates with & hasnât put any effort into their relationship since he planned the date#that he subsequently walked out in the middle of#does not have the same right#this is genuinely not a difficult concept??#like. think about your bff & then think about a new love interest. would you really be comfortable with those 2 people making the same joke#or would you laugh at your best friendâs & be a little off-put by your new potential love intrest???#anti T*van#I heard that tagging something as anti still shows up on that tag & Im just too tired to fucking fight
72 notes
¡
View notes
Text
being mad at an actor for something they have done is so so valid, you can be upset, you can be annoyed, but literally wishing death on someone? That makes you a horrible person, full stop. Publicly hating on people is pathetic in the first place, but constantly harassing someone, telling them you wish they would die, essentially telling someone to fucking kill themselves?? That makes you a terrible person, that makes you no better than the person you are hating on
you can bitch in private, everyone gossips, everyone talks and bitches and complains, and thatâs fine, thatâs normal. What is not normal is obsessing over an actor and persistently putting them down. actors are real people too, they are affected by what you say about them, they have feelings and get upset, just like you do.
I genuinely do not care how much you hate an actor, you are the problem if you do this - actors donât deserve to be abused just because some people canât have some decorum and respect
#hating an actor because of their character is not valid#hating an actor because of past/present actions is#but it still doesnât make it right#And before anyone is like âoh bullying doesnât = whatever an actor has doneâ#Bullying makes you a bad person#You are no better than the person you are bullying#Taking the time to make a public hate comment to put someone else down is pathetic and does not make u a better person#The block button exists for a reason - people need to stop obsessing over actors and leave them be#Honestly the people who hate on most actors are more obsessed with them than their fans - itâs genuinely so weird#Also attacking actors families is genuinely the lowest thing you can do#Not only is it rude but it is an insane breach of privacy#And is unfair on said family because literally what the fuck have they done#If you couldnât tell by my account theme this is about bobs and the fandom#not only about lou but other characters/actors (specifically bucks love interests) and how they have been treated#lou ferrigno jr#911 abc#911 show#9 1 1#anti bobs#anti buddie#(itâs not but I know the anti bts will get mad)#I genuinely donât understand why we canât just treat actors with respect đ like bro theyâre literally the only reason u love the show sm#have some damn respect
31 notes
¡
View notes
Note
Which version of Rick is your fav?
it's so hard for me to choose tbh. HOWEVER, I'd say Evil Rick
then I'd say it's C-137 and Memory Rick
I love how pathetic⢠Evil Rick really is tbh. love that he's being controlled by his Morty. can you guess who my favorite Morty is?
#the only reason why Evil is above C-137 and Memory is because#Memory's design is something I don't really like in the style of the show#his fanart makes him look so much cooler but in the show he just looks.. unfinished?#idk it's weird to me. I love him outside of that though#and with C-137. I'M SICK OF HIM LMAO I AM SO SORRY#there are too many fucking episodes dedicated to this man. pushing everyone else aside just to have him yap about his dead wife#I love him so much but there's only so many times we can bring Diane up and not really develop her as a character but rather to boost Rick#and the show is Rick and MORTY yet all I see is Rick đđ don't get me wrong I love this man#I just feel like we know more about Rick than the rest of the family#WHICH IS FINE IF THAT WAS WHAT THEY WERE GOING FOR#and if they wanted to go in that direction so be it! it's fine!#I just feel like he needs less screen time or at least balance episodes among the family#cause even the most recent Morty episode is about Rick. it was so frustrating watching it cause it's literally MORTY'S fear hole experience#yet we're watching Morty's head canons about his grandparents#I also hate the narrative they took with Diane. only ever having Rick talk of her or others bring her up#it just doesn't make her a character but rather an extension off of Rick. that's how I'm feeling rn with the family#they're all just there to prop up Rick or something. super annoying#but that's about it. I'm not gonna continue my rant#unless you want me to?#idk if I even made sense but that's all good#rick and morty#rick and morty fandom#rick#memory rick#evil rick#C-137#Rick Sanchez
45 notes
¡
View notes