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camillelespanayesbtch · 2 months ago

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Seven Devils All Around Me (18+)

Summary: It isn't your fault you like the feeling of power, the sensation was addictive, and although it never worked out well for those around you, it certainly worked well for you. You weren't to blame that people seldom survived attacking you, it was their fault after all. But you can only run for so long before your misdeeds catch up to you, and where will you be left after? It's dangerous to walk certain paths alone as a young witch.

Content: Eventual smut, graphic depictions of murder and violence, character death, power imbalance, manipulation, addiction, grief, discussion of sexual violence (r receiving) (I will add more as I think of them)

Word Count: 4690

Agatha Harkness x fem!reader

I will block minors and ageless bios

Chapter One

You hum to yourself as you follow the marks you carved into the trees, a hidden path you had created that left those who follow you believing you were the perfect victim, blissfully unaware of the danger that followed you. You could hear the boys talking among themselves, their gleeful snickering as they think about all the things they could do to you now that they had you alone and unaware. Like most evenings, the forest was a cacophony of sound, there wasn’t an inch of space where there was silence, every crevasse had sound, even the ants clicked to one another to inform the other of the crumbs of bread that were left abandoned on the floor of the community hall that hosted giants. The leaves crunch underfoot, small twigs snapping as you step on them, continuing to hum the tune until you come to a clearing in the forest.

There was a space where no leaves were, a perfect circle that had been made over years of the same trick, black as the night sky is dark. “Look boys,” Douglas says with a grin, “She’s made a spot for fucking, just for us.” He moves closer to you, the others surrounding you as well, all of them giving each other encouraging looks. They didn’t believe the stories about boys going missing because every coven had tales like that, even the girls were told tales about their powers being taken when lured to walk the witch’s road, but everyone believed that it was just the danger of the road and not one of their own doing it. “I wonder if her tits are as big as her top makes them look,” Douglas says, advancing on you quickly, his hands twitching by his side as he thinks about tearing your shirt from your body.

“I’ve seen them through her window when she changes,” Clint says, “They’re small, no bigger than a handful, but at least they’re perky.” He cracks his knuckles, his eyes glinting dangerously. This wasn’t his first time taking what he wanted, and it wouldn’t be his last, just like the other boys he was with- if he sees something he wants, he takes it. His mother did raise him to be respectful towards women, especially those in the coven, but she always spoke about you as being the exception. You were the freak of the group, the one people whispered about, warned the kids to stay away from least you corrupt them. So, really, what he and his friends were about to do wasn’t a bad thing, it was deserved. “We should take pictures and add them to the wall.”

“We should take pictures and add them to the wall,” you mimic, turning to face them. “Didn’t anyone tell you not to keep trophies? Or was that too much for your tiny little boy-brains to comprehend?” You run your fingers through your hair, letting out a sigh as you shake a few knots loose. You were hungry, and these boys would be enough to last you a few weeks. Sure, they weren’t as powerful as the elders, too jumped up on the testosterone coursing through their bodies to focus on mastering the craft, instead relying on brute force to get things done. “Didn’t mommy teach you better? Or even your fathers? No, I suppose not. No, daddy left you boys behind, didn’t he? Went off to go fuck some young maiden the next town over,” you make a vulgar gesture, thrusting your hips before laughing when you see the group clench their fists in anger. “Oh no, did I hurt your feelings? What’re you gonna do? Blast me?”

It would only take one. It only ever takes one, but they didn’t know that. Of course they didn’t know that they barely knew how to groom themselves let alone see the signs of a trap, to even see that sometimes there is truth in the tales they have been told since childhood. You mightn’t have believed the ones about the Purple Witch, but you wouldn’t deny that there is something alluring about her. The ability to take someone’s powers? You wondered what it felt like, if it was as addictive as watching people burn, using their own powers to cause their deaths. “Lucas and Clint, hold her down,” Douglas orders, his eyes burning into yours.

The two boys he orders raise their hands, their magic shooting from their hands and wrapping around your wrists. They both were smirking until they see the lopsided grin on your face, a darkness settling into your eyes. You breathe in deep through your nose, tilting your head back up to the sky as your eyes drift shut, feeling the warmth starting to spread through your body and bloom out from your palms, “Oh boys,” you exhale. “Silly, stupid, little boys.” Your head rolls forward and you open your eyes to look at them, a fire burning in your eyes that makes them take a step back. “Didn’t you hear the stories? Didn’t your mother tell you not to go into the woods at night?”

“She’s just- She’s just bluffing,” Douglas stutters, “She’s just trying to scare us.” He puffs his chest out in false bravado before moving closer to you, his hands coming up to tear the front of your blouse open, but he hisses in pain, pulling his hands back. Your body had grown hot to the touch, as though he had just put his hands over the hot embers of a campfire, “What trickery is this?”

“You haven’t figured it out, have you?” You yank your hands free of Clint and Lucas’ magic, grabbing a handful of Douglas’ shirt, and pulling him so his body was against yours, a feral grin spreading across your face. “Smell that?” You lean in, taking a deep breath as the scent of burning fabric starts to fill the air, “Maybe you can feel it. It’s getting hot, isn’t it? I wonder if I’ll see eyes explode this time like popcorn.” You stare at him intensely, your hands glowing like magma as you start to cook him from the inside out, feeling his energy seeping out of him and into you. You let out a content sigh a the sensation, watching as his eyes go wide, his skin turning a deep red before starting to melt from his muscles and bones. He cries out in agony, trying to get away from you, to put the fire out inside of him but it was of no use, and soon he falls to the ground, his body quickly going up in flames. “Now,” you smile and turn to look at the other boys who were looking on in horror, “Who’s next?”

“You’re a monster,” Clint says, clenching his fists, “He didn’t even do anything to you! We were just playing!” He was quick to attack you, seemingly forgetting what he had just witnessed you do to his friend. You eagerly drink his energy up, your body glowing like a reactor before his body turns into barbecue. He claws at his clothes, trying to remove the flaming fabric from his body as he writhes on the ground, his screams drowning out the music of songbirds. You wonder if the woods would muffle the sound so it didn’t carry to the houses that lived along the edge of it, that the neighbors wouldn’t have their windows open to let the warm spring breeze in. Then again, if you didn’t want them to hear, you simply shouldn’t be doing what you are, but you couldn’t help yourself, could you? You enjoy it too much. You enjoy luring men into the woods, using their own powers to burn them alive as some sort of penance for all the women burned before you because their power was seen as a threat.

You take a few breaths to calm yourself, looking at your hands, they were turning black, tendrils creeping up your forearm and tickling your inner-elbow. This happened every time, the only evidence of your crimes. They were easy to hide though, you wore long-sleeves, and had a pair of gloves that your mother gave you to protect you from the judgmental gaze of your coven. Your mother wasn’t consciously aware of what you were doing, thinking you were just going into the woods to practice your craft, but she couldn’t deny it was suspicious that boys kept going missing whenever you did.

The remaining boys fall quickly, you wave your hands, letting out a hot blast of fire that turns their remains to ash. You knew the rain would disperse the ashes, returning them to the earth and helping to keep the forest alive, although your circle never grew back- the grass has remained dead and black for years. You were in your twenties now, and you had been doing this since you were sixteen. You do the buttons back up on your blouse then pull your sleeves down, doing the cuff buttons up so the sleeves wouldn’t go out of place. You flick your hair from your face, a smile settling on your features as you start to head back, humming to yourself once more.

As you walk, you stop occasionally to pick some flowers for your mom, making a bouquet for her. Your father wasn’t around to do this for her, not that he had done such thoughtful things when he was alive, that had always been your thing. You loved making your mom smile because it meant she wasn’t worrying about anything which had become her normal. If she wasn’t worrying about you getting in trouble, she was worrying about the coven being run out of town, and if she wasn’t worrying about that, she was worrying about taxes which only seemed to go up every year. It’s not that you couldn’t afford the taxes, she had been around for centuries, she had more than enough money to cover them, but it was still an unnecessary stress in her life that she simply did not need. If you could get away with it, you would burn the tax collector alive, maybe even roast him over a fire like you would toast a marshmallow.

“You can’t help yourself, can you?” A familiar voice asks, disappointment evident in her tone. “I tell them- I tell them every meeting that it isn’t you, that my daughter would never bring harm to her coven, and every time you go out and prove me wrong.”

You look up from the flowers you were examining, your features falling, “Mama… I- They attacked me,” you explain. “I was just coming here to practice, like you always want me to. And they followed me, taunting me, telling me all the horrible things they were going to do to me.” You turn your head slightly, just enough to see the open area out the corner of your eye that was a few hundred feet away by now before looking back at your mom. You try to smile, holding the sad looking bouquet out for her, “I picked you flowers. Your favorites. I know you like having fresh flowers in the house because you like when the bees-“

“Enough,” she cuts you off, “Enough,” she repeats, softer this time. She walks closer to you, a sadness on her face as she gently takes your free hand in hers- your skin was like charcoal, and still hot to the touch like the furnace in winter. Her heart aches painfully in her chest, why was her only child like this? Had she done something wrong? Those questions hurt her; how could she think so poorly of you? She loves you dearly, she would do anything for you, absolutely anything for you, why couldn’t you do this one thing for her? Her touch was soft, cooling your burning skin as she runs her fingers over it, your skin slowly turning back to your normal shade. She turns your hand over so your palm was facing her, running her finger in a circle on your palm, a small smile tugging on her lips, “Round and round the garden,” she whispers, “Went the teddy bear, one step,” she walks her finger up your forearm, healing as she goes, “two step,” another step onto your bicep, “Tickle you under there,” she says and gently tickles your underarm, a soft giggle escaping her. “You used to squeal whenever I did that to you as a toddler.”

You can’t help the quiet giggle you let out, unaware of the tears spilling from your eyes, “Mama,” you whisper back, “I’m not a little kid anymore.” She gives your arm a squeeze at that, looking pained by the reminder. You rest your hand over hers, looking remorseful immediately, “I know- I know I’m still your little girl. You still make my boo boo’s better.” You look down at your hands, they were no longer black as tar, and you could see the blue and purple of your veins on the backs of them instead of a deep red that glowed against the black. You felt a knot form in your stomach, “They’re gonna kill me, aren’t they, mama?” You ask her quietly, a waver in your voice. “For what I’ve done- They’re gonna burn me.”

Your mom blinks back tears but it was futile, the salty liquid running down her cheeks, “When they find out,” she replies softly, “Yes. They will.” She raises her hand to tenderly stroke your cheek, and as always, you lean into her touch. Her thumb brushes against your rosy skin, wiping away any tear that dared to fall. She didn’t know how long you would both have together, whether she could wash your hair and braid flowers into it, or whether now was the only time you two would get. “Why couldn’t you stop?”

“I can’t help it, mama, you know that,” you answer, your eyes closing as you relax into her touch. Her hands never caused the same pain and suffering that yours have, they have always healed and protected. There was never a moment where she didn’t help someone, where she turned them away when they showed up to the door pleading for her to make their sick child better. There was always a spare bed for the child or adult to recover, your mother watching over them during the night to ensure their condition didn’t worsen. You. You had always been the one to hurt, to harm, to inflict suffering and pain. Your mother, try as she might to get you to do things for the betterment of the coven such as burning the fields to return the nutrients to the earth, or helping start the bonfires for when there was a community barbecue, even trying to get you to take out the wolves that threatened the farm animals, but it never satiated you.

It wasn’t until you turned sixteen did it become a problem, but she brushed it off because you had been terribly bullied, she kept brushing it off when the first group of boys went missing. She had moved you both after that, found another coven. Six months of peace before it happened again. Every time, you would come home with blackened skin and a bouquet of flowers. She never had to worry about running out of dried flowers for her potions, the basement was full of them, your peace offerings to her. You always were so sincere in your apologies, and she believed you every time, why wouldn’t she? “They deserved it,” you add, “They were going to hurt me.”

“Not every single boy was out to hurt you, surely, sweetheart. What about Tommy? He was always so kind to you, he tutored you. You were friends.”

Tommy had been your friend two moves ago, you two had bonded over being excluded from most of the college class you were enrolled in, even the lecturer refused to acknowledge you in class. You both were good students, handing your assignments in on time and not once even asking for an extension. You thought you were just friends, you told him you only liked women, and he told you he was okay with it. You had gone over to his house one afternoon to study for an upcoming exam, the two of you were in his room on his bed reading notes when he had asked you if you’d ever kissed anyone before. The question made your skin crawl, “No,” you had answered, “I haven’t.” He got this look in his eyes at that answer, his hand had come up to turn your head to face him before he leaned in to kiss you, his tongue forced its way into your mouth, pocking and prodding your throat. You had frozen; your eyes wide as he assaulted you. It wasn’t until he had pulled back did the anger kick in. You don’t really remember much of what happened, only running out of the house as the fire department showed up to extinguish the flames, two of the firefighters checking over you for injuries. You had told your mother what happened, what he did, and she had brushed it off, saying it was just how it was done- nobody needed to ask for permission to kiss, it was spontaneous. You had cried in your room that night, you didn’t understand why your mom didn’t see why it was wrong of him to do that to you. She knew you liked women, why on earth would you ever want some man to kiss you?

“We- You know what he did to me, mama. He hurt me. He hurt me,” you tell her, more tears falling onto your cheeks, “He knew I didn’t like him like that. Every single one of them deserved it.” That wasn’t true, there had been a couple of groups you took out because you enjoyed the thrill of it, the screams, the feeling of power that filled your system. Even thinking about it now made you giddy, your pupils dilating as though a drug was coursing its way through your system. “You have to believe me, mama, please.”

Her hand falls from your face, “We should head back. You need a shower, and I’d like to braid your hair.” Her voice was cold, the older woman turning her back on you, not even taking the flowers from your hand. She usually hummed with you, the same song she sang to you as a child, but tonight the only sound was the owls hooting in the forest. You wipe your eyes on your sleeve, holding the flowers close to you as you follow along behind her. You hum quietly to yourself, looking up into the trees to see the glowing eyes of birds watching you. There was something comforting about them being so attentive, like they were looking out for the inhabitants that called the woods their home, even as they swoop on the mice that scamper across the leafy floor. It was the balance of things, and even as they eat the mice, they too would return to the earth and continue the cycle anew.

When you get home, your mother sits on a chair and has you sit on the floor between her legs as she starts to braid your hair, her fingers working deftly. She carefully takes the dried flowers and works them into your hair, willing the protection to keep you safe when the leaders come knocking. Only now does she hum, the strands of gold that hold the flowers in place starting to glow. She new deep down this day would come, that moving towns, cities, states would only get you so far because the tales that were told about a witch of destruction would catch up to you, that one coven was going to be smart enough to figure things out and realize it is one of their own. “You’ve always had such beautiful hair,” she murmurs, adding another flower to the braid and tying it into place, “Ever since you left my body, you had a mop of hair on your head. Whenever you woke in the morning, your hair was all over the place, and it would take so much water to tame it.”

“I’ve seen the photos,” you reply with a giggle, your eyes closed as you relax, enjoying the calming sensation of your mom braiding your hair. There had been times she had yelled at you for not brushing your hair, threatening to cut it all off if you didn’t want to take care of it. She had always apologized afterwards though, blaming her anger on something that had been said in a coven meeting as she carefully brushed the knots and tangles from your hair. “How long do we have?”

Your mother doesn’t look up from your hair, the wards she had set around the house were starting to crumble, only meant to slow them down, “Not long, my dear,” she picks the hairtie up and ties the braid off, securing a crystal in with it. “There,” she says, running her hand lightly over her work before you turn to look at her, your eyes holding the light of a thousand flames, “My beautiful girl. If you survive, you know you must never return.” Her hand caresses your cheek, her eyes held the river of life which you always loved looking into because you could feel the cool refreshing water wash over you, keeping you calm.

“I can’t leave you behind, mama. I can’t- I promised you that I would look after you,” you rest your hand over hers, they were the perfect balance. It always made you laugh how whenever her hands were cold, yours were burning hot, and on the rare occasion hers were warm, yours were colder than the glacier high in the mountains. You didn’t want to leave her behind, she would be an outcast unless she participated in your execution which she was unlikely to do because despite everything you have put her through, she still loves you and you knew there was nothing stronger than a mother’s love. “I can’t go without you.”

“You have to, sweetheart. You must find your own path, in a coven that will understand you,” she pulls back from you when the front door flies open, standing up she calls out to them. “She’s in here!” She looks at you, pain visible in her eyes, “She killed them! I saw it with my own eyes. No daughter of mine shall harm our coven.”

You felt your spirit break, unable to realize she was doing this for a reason, to keep herself safe, to keep you safe from seeing her harmed. “Mama-“ You start, struggling against the witches as they bind you with their magic, “Mama, please,” you beg, “Please don’t let them do this to me. I didn’t mean to. I didn’t mean to do it, mama.” The women haul you to your feet, the magic tightening around your wrists behind your back, cutting off the circulation to your hands.

“I saw the look in your eyes, Yn. You enjoyed it.” She follows the other women out of the house, the path to the stake lined with other members of the coven holding burning torches. “I’ll bind her to the stake,” your mother tells the women, “To make up for what I have done. I have let this coven down too many times before, I won’t let it happen again.” Her magic felt different this time as it wraps itself around you, your hands pulled taut behind the stake, the cold no longer soothing, instead it felt icy, the frost burning your skin. She couldn’t look you in the eyes, she didn’t want you to see how much this was hurting her, and she didn’t want to see how betrayed you looked as she prepared to watch her daughter burn.

“I never thought I’d see the day, Theodora,” the elder-witch comments, “Preparing to burn your own flesh and blood after so long of defending her. Had this evening turned out differently, you would be on that stake along with her, there is no doubt about that.” She gestures for the others to surround you, a group of six women all part of the higher counsel, and every single one of them deeming you guilty. There was no room in their coven for someone like you, someone so dangerous, someone without remorse. Were they unbiased in their judgement? Four of them were not, all having lost a son to you. The other two had daughters, but even they feared that one day your hatred would spread to women. Although whenever their daughters had caught a glimpse of you, their cheeks turned as red as a rose, and a carefree giggle escaped them which they thought was arguably worse. “Get into position, Theodora. It’s time.”

“Mama please,” you beg, “Please. I didn’t mean to. I can’t control it. Please.” You look at her, desperate for her to believe you one last time, “Please, mama. Tell them. Tell them that I didn’t know what I was doing. That I didn’t mean to. That they hurt me too.”

Your mother wanted to stroke your cheek one last time, to wipe your tears away but she couldn’t do that, not anymore. She breathes you in, inhaling the floral scent of the shampoo you used before stepping down from the platform and joining the other women encircling you. “I should have let you burn the first time,” is all she says.

The elder-witch gives a nod, everyone raising their hands in preparation, “Begin!” She commands, their powers shooting out of their hands and hitting you full force, a pained scream tearing itself from your throat. It felt like your insides were being roasted, your skin prickling from the heat. It was agony, you had never felt anything like this before and you wanted it to stop.

“Please!” You scream, your head falling back against the stake, “Stop! I can’t-“ You could feel that familiar sensation starting to build in your stomach, and it wouldn’t be long until it broke free. “Mama- Mama run!” Your face was wet with tears, your head tipping forward, your eyes making contact with your mom’s. She couldn’t run, you both knew this, but you hoped this last time she would break the rules for you. The binding around your wrist starts falter, the women behind you noticing it.

“Elder- Her bindings! She’s going to break free!” One of them exclaims yet she does not stop her attack on you, none of them do because they hoped that if they continued, you would finally burn.

The elder-witch encourages them to push through it, “She is glowing! We are close! Keep going!” Your mother knew what was about to happen, finally she meets your eyes, mouthing an apology to you before the blast happens, all the women letting out agonizing screams as the fall to the ground ablaze. You slump somewhat against the wooden stake, your hair blowing in the draft created from the fires, your skin flush a deep red and your hands glowing brighter than the sun. You didn’t want to hurt them. You didn’t mean to, you begged for them not to do this. You warned them you couldn’t control it. You were going to wallow in that feeling until you remembered your mother. You look around frantically, counting the bodies: seven. Your mother-

“Mama-“ You jump down from the pedestal and rush over to where she had last been, sinking to your knees as you desperately try and put out the flames. She was unrecognizable, her skin blackened and burned. “Mama, I’m sorry,” you sob, cradling her burnt body close to you. She was the only person to look out for you, the only one to have stood by your side, and you had repaid her by killing her. Your tears drip from your chin and onto her corpse, the tears evaporating before they even touch her skin. You look down at her, “I’m sorry.”

#Agatha Harkness #Agatha Harkness x reader #Kathryn Hahn #Kathryn Hahn x reader #Agatha All Along #Agatha Harkness imagine #Kathryn Hahn imagine

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ambrosialdesire · 7 months ago

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hedonic

18+ DARK CONTENT BELOW, MINORS + BLANK BLOGS DNI

pairing: laios x fem!monster reader word count: 5k warnings + tags: general yandere and/or dark themes, kinda gory descriptions, cannibalistic ideas/thoughts/temptations, probably ooc laios, delusional ideas, monster reader w/ large breasts (i mean, it comes with the kind of monster she is tbh but this is the only physical descriptor of the reader), brief bodily mutilation + removal mention, breast milk consumption, accidental peeping (?), breast fixation, blood kink kinda, biting mention, all characters are 18+ synopsis: he's always been the type with an insatiable appetite when it comes to any monsters, but he promised to never ever eat any demi-humans when it comes down to it. the temptation when it comes to you has became irresistible to try and ignore. a/n: in request of 🌷 anon and my fueled want for laios, i have made my first dungeon meshi/delicious in dungeon yan fic! i decided to do it in laios pov cause i feel it'll make for an interesting perspective. not really nsfw this time around lol since i'm still new and keeping up with the anime and learning about the characters SO IM ONLY CAUGHT UP ANIME-WISE OK LOL AND THE MONSTER I'M USING FOR THE READER ARE CONSCIOUS BEASTS THAT CAN COMMUNICATE AND SHIT LIKE THAT CAUSE IT'S SO VAGUE ON THE WIKI 😭😭 also i'm making shit up as i go okay so anything food related is like entirely made-up 💀 AND YEAH I MADE IT ABOUT BREAST MILK OKAY LMFAOOO tbh i've always wanted to try a dnd-related game but literally have no where to start (ik there's baldur's gate but i am a broke full-time student lol) hope y'all enjoy and hope i can make some more of laios cause he's so 🏃‍♀️💨💨 note: please keep in mind of the tags above and do not proceed if triggering or uncomfortable, especially if you are a minor!! do not read my or any other writers' dark content if you are underaged. this is a fictional work and does not reflect irl morals, do not believe this is how a real romance works or functions.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ.───

Laios made a promise to never consume a demi-human, no matter the circumstances. It made sense, they were on the cusp of something that was human but not. They could have similar features like the races they respectively belonged to, could bleed red and have had a beating heart, yet in the end, they were still a monster inside and out. Morally or ethically — whichever which belonged to which — according to Chilchuck, it was still wrong to try and consume them.

He understood that completely once it got explained and stuck into his head, but then you came into question.

When you came into Laios's party during the search for his sister, you were almost attacked from how you meekly approached the small group in one of the dungeon’s levels. They were right to be cautious of course, many human-like monsters had previously attacked them when their guard was down, but once they realized you genuinely meant no harm, they let you join in. Marcille was overjoyed that another girl had joined the party, though both Laios and Chilchuck had their valid doubts about you. Senshi didn't really mind, long as you could pull your own weight and never tried to attack them.

Were you trying to play the long game? Did it make them taste better when you waited to strike? Were you eyeing your pick in the group? Senshi and him both have a lot of meat on their person, Chilchuck was definitely the least desirable since he was so small and had less meat on his body; to be honest, Marcille was in a similar boat as him too.

Food-wise, you ate whatever Senshi made with a happy smile, not even being deterred once from having to eat something that was considered to be closely related to you. He wondered if it was something you were used to, something that you had to be doing in order to survive down here. Then, if it came to other parties that came before them and being forced to defend yourself, did you ever had to... consume them?

Laios hoped it never had to occur, but he couldn't blame you if you had no other choice. He could imagine you being trapped for days before your kind could get to you, maybe one or two bodies from an adventuring party were with you from a previous scuffle and the pangs of hunger were getting to you. The thought of the remaining party members finding the torn apart limbs and strewn, chewed on bones surrounding a bloody starving monster made his stomach flip and a shiver go down his spine. Maybe it's because that's how he last remembered Falin right before she teleported them out of the dungeon, her midst of her body trapped in the toothy maw of that Red Dragon.

Because of this now since your alliance with them combined with the many questions in his head about your diet, there was one that he can't quite get rid of, no matter how much he tried.

What did a human taste like to a monster?

It's been a few weeks since they've ventured in the dungeon and Laios still had some doubts with your intentions for joining. A monster is a monster and cannot be trusted no matter what, but you didn't cause trouble or held them back from their search so he let you be... for now at least. He'd be a hypocrite for not letting you stay since he's been keeping Kensuke around, but it's only temporary and it can't really harm him without the other parts of the Living Armor. You're a moving... person? Half of one. Actually more a third-fourth of one? He doesn't quite know but still rather fascinated by your existence.

You were similar to them in conscious thought and speech, as well as appearance-wise. Well, appearance-wise, you definitely weren't human. Small, bilateral curved horns made their home on the sides of your head, floppy brown ears swung around with every step you took, a long bovine tail whipped around the bottom of your legs, and finally, your legs were curved into two thick cow-like stumps with hooves at the end as a replacement of feet. Minotaur, or that's what you said what you were, though you were smaller than those massive farm animal adjacent beasts, about a few inches taller than Marcille.

And not to sound like a perv or anything remotely similar to that, but you didn't really have udders either, unless your more than well-endowed breasts compensated for the lack thereof.

"Ow! Laios!" He snapped out of his thoughts, looking down at his metal shoe and seeing the fluffy end of your tail on the bottom of it.

"Oh, sorry." Slowly, he lifted his foot off of it, the appendage whipping around and twitching. It wrapped around your waist, almost completely hidden as a fuzzy brown and white belt.

"It's bad to get distracted here, are you hungry? Thirsty? I have some bread and milk in the pack if you want to snack on it." As you walked on forwards, you pulled the bag off of your shoulders and began to rummage through it with one hand. You finally found what you were looking for, handing it over to him without hesitation, slinging your bag back where it belonged. He stared at the milk as he chewed on the bread, the texture soft and light with each bite.

Did... did this come from you? You mentioned to them before in the beginning stages of joining that they can drink your milk if they needed to, but the horrified looks of both the elven mage and the Half-foot locksmith prevented you from trying any further. Both him and Senshi was of course curious, Minotaur milk was both difficult to come across and retrieve, but the two told the dwarf that they absolutely refused to eat anything that he cooked if it came from your body.

"Gross, don't tell me that came from you Y/N." Chilchuck grimaced as he walked on by and you shook your head.

"No! Of course not. I know you people humans are a little weird but I wouldn't give something that came from me without telling you. It's just cow milk, er... not from me." Laios felt a little disappointed as he opened the top of the bottle, wondering if it tasted different from normal cow's milk. According to the Dungeon Gourmet Guide, Minotaur milk was thicker and sweeter compared to the average cattle's; then again, this precious book of his wasn't really that accurate unfortunately.

What about your flesh?

He came to a sudden standstill, almost causing Marcille to bump into him.

"If you're gonna stop out of nowhere, at least move to the side Laios!" She grumbled, moving past him as he stood there in confusion. What was he thinking? Why would he even go so far as to think that? He started moving again, carefully watching you click on forwards. His mind began to wander at the thought again, which parts of you would be edible?

Your legs definitely, there's so much muscle built upon you there. He'd seen you strike down stone pillars and enemies in a single blow without even flinching. Maybe even your thin tail, could be tough and stringy though. Your ears would take a while to feast upon, cartilaginous but still a good source of protein. Horns are a no-go, too small and were most likely hollower than meaty. Cow hooves are a delicacy in some parts of the world, so it was possible that yours were consumable too.

Would the "human" parts of you count? You hadn't revealed if you were full or half-monster, maybe even if you were cursed, so it was hard to truly determine what you were. If you were a full monster, that meant that every bit and piece of you was edible meat.

Meat.

"Laios, you’re drooling! I can hear your stomach rumbling too," Your giggling voice rang clearly in his mind, his gaze snapping downwards as he wiped his mouth quickly. "I have more bread if you want."

"No, no. It's better if we stop now and make something more nutritionally beneficial to continue forwards," Senshi stopped with the two of you, turning his head around to find a suitable room for cooking. "Think I still have some of those Harpy eggs and Kelpie flesh, would you two be so kind to try and find some more ingredients on this floor? Any vegetation would do this meal some good."

And here the two of you were, walking around the floor's grounds to spot for anything of use. It was almost completely quiet minus the shifting of his armor and the clicks of your hooves echoing throughout the stone hallway, reducing that awkward silence just a little. Your weapon, a sharpened scythe, swung around on your back as if you were a cow grim reaper; the thought of a cow dressed up in a black robe with a menacing skull mask made him chuckle in his head a little.

"Oh! Up ahead, I see something leafy." The hoof-clicking went faster as you picked up your pace, ducking your head from the fallen wooden structures that were in the way. Compared to the average Minotaur, you moved and reacted quicker, most likely because of your smaller stature and having a little less muscle in your body to heave around. That could make you vulnerable on the other hand, having less muscle everywhere else minus your legs meant diminished strength and being unable to defeat enemies in a more timely manner. Interesting.

"Laios, do you think this enough for all five of us?" You shuffled out of the crevice in a huff with bundles of thick purple, triangular leaves in your arms and he took a pinch from one of the leaves, inspecting it before placing it in his mouth. He winced, his face contorting to a pucker as you laughed at his expression. Dungeon oxalis, edible but strongly tasted similarly to citrus.

"We could work with it, could make up for lemons since they're pretty sour. Here, place it in your bag and we can search for other things." You nodded after wiping your eyes from your boisterous laughter, following his instructions and getting back up from the ground.

You dusted yourself off before picking the bag back up, smiling at him as the two of you began to move deeper into the dungeon. "I hope we find some Night Lucernes but I think since we're already so low underground, it's getting more unlikely they can grow here."

"Oh we can't eat those, they make us sluggish and gives us stomach cramps for weeks."

Blinking at him, you tilted your head in confusion. He never noticed how long your eyelashes were, is that common in your kind? "Really? They're like vitamins for me or was it something about the blood—"

"Why are you not like the other Minotaurs?"

"Huh?" The question was out of the blue, interrupting her talking as the two of you had stopped in the middle of the hallway, eyes locked with one another.

"Why are you not like the other Minotaurs?" Laios repeated, not skipping a beat and leaning down closer to you. "You're not massively built, you don't have a cow's head, you don't have large horns. You don't strictly eat vegetation, is it even good for you to eat monster meat so often? There's so very few things that are Minotaur-like on you, are you really one of their kind?"

Your eyelids fluttered in shock, each question wrapping around your brain before you leaned away from him, scratching the back of your neck. "Well... I-I don't really know why myself."

"...What?"

"Uh yeah. One day, when I was still young, I woke up in this dungeon alone without a single memory in my mind. I don't even remember who named me either, but I vaguely remember being told that I'm a Minotaur. Maybe it's the Mad Mage's fault but I'm sorry Laios, I really can't explain why I'm not more like them."

Did that even satisfy his question on whether you were edible as a Minotaur or not?

"I do know is that I am a monster," You put a hand over where your heart is, clenching it tightly into a fist. "I ain't like you people humans and I'm sure not like those other animal humans you coexist with, so I am nothing but a monster. I may look a little different from my kind but inside and out, I have the Minotaur’s blood in me. And the strictly herbivore thing isn't really true, I can eat meat if I have no other choice to, it's not all that bad though. Doesn't really freak me out and I'm always grateful to have the opportunity to eat a good meal."

"So have you eaten other adventurers before meeting us? I won't judge, I'm genuinely curious and I won't tell the others if you have."

You froze, eyes casting downwards suddenly as your fists gripped onto the coat you wore. "I... I don't really want to talk about it Laios, sorry. I'll answer your other questions but some things are better left off unsaid, okay? Please respect that."

His lips were pulled into a thin line, the nagging voice in his head still ever curious on whether you've eaten human before, but you really did seem uncomfortable talking about the topic. "Sorry."

He then put a hand under his chin, thinking about what you've said previously slowly. Inside and out... Does that mean you are edible? I mean, you basically said it yourself, despite you being more on the human-appearance spectrum of monsters. Then again, they met more human-like monsters like the Harpies and the Dryads, and they've eaten them before! (Well... sorta.) The mermen were edible too (despite Chilchuck stopping him from taking more of the parts), so that means—

"Can I drink your milk then?"

"Wha— H-huh?!" The apples of your cheeks glowed a dark shade of red, but his gaze remained determined, sparkling in excitement even.

"You offered it before, didn't you? Chilchuck and Marcille aren't here so they won't judge us and I've been curious since my book said that it's different from normal cow's milk." You looked around, even peeking behind him, before sighing and bashfully pouting.

"I did! I know I did! But, I have to make it fresh since I threw out the ones I had on hand a week ago and I don't have any on my person right now so..."

"It's okay, I can wait." He bluntly replied, oblivious to your wording. Laios just wanted a little taste, nothing more and nothing less.

You mumbled something under your breath, his ears catching a few words of him being 'too eager' and 'quick to answer'. Was he? He was just answering your question honestly, and he’s been ever so curious about it ever since you’ve offered it before.

"Let me find a room, just wait outside for a bit."

You were flushed, clicking away to find a place to hide out so you could produce what he wanted. Of course he followed shortly after you left, staying outside just like you told him to and it would serve as extra security. If Minotaur milk tasted as good as they say, he might just keep asking you for it when some certain party members aren't nearby. Hell, he might even be able to sneak some to Senshi since he's been curious about it too! It's only right to share a magnificent discovery to the best monster chef. Actually, he might be the only monster chef he knew but he was still the best by default.

He waited.

And waited.

And waited…

Laios started to sit down next to the door due to how long you were taking to produce a small bottle. Was it difficult to get milk out of the body by yourself? He had to ask about that too since he’s only seen male Minotaurs depicted in his book; there was nothing but a small and vague paragraph that explained about the female Minotaurs, but it was mostly about their milk.

He closed his eyes, leaning his head against the stone wall. You really were a strange individual, someone that he can’t quite understand. Your very being makes his mouth salivate whenever he thinks about you as a next meal, even if it shouldn’t. Was it because all they’ve been eating has been monster-related? His strange fixation on trying them was slowly being satiated with every step down the dungeon, so he chalked it up to just being morbidly curious.

It has to be that reason, it must be, because what kind of sick individual constantly thinks about consuming his friend?

Opening back his eyes, he took another quick glance at the wooden door. Laios was extremely curious on how the whole process worked, if you really had extra udders or if the hidden parts of your body were furry or skin. Plus, you really were taking a long time, one of the three were bound to come over soon and he wouldn't be able to try the milk! Actually... you know what? What if you had gotten attacked in there by a whole group of Mimics?! Or any other monster group, like the ghosts! You were strong but you can’t take all of them at once, and monsters aren't able to revive here. Wait...

Monsters don’t revive here.

He scrambled up on his feet at the realization, quickly knocking on the door, the sound of stumbling and thuds causing him to immediately panic and start pushing it open.

"Are you oka—" Laios froze, his eyes widening.

Your eyes were wide open as well, mouth partially parted open in dumbfounded shock. At least you looked okay and it seemed there wasn't any harmful enemies around, just some old furniture that had fallen over. It's weird though. There you sat on the ground in the midst of the mess, one arm covering your bare chest while the other was holding a partially filled glass. He stood there in puzzlement as your face grew redder by the second, placing the glass down slowly before reaching for your weapon that was right next to you.

Oh.

Oh...

OH!

"LAIOS!!!"

"I'M SO SORRY!!!" He slammed the door back shut as the scythe made its way towards his head, the sharp blade slicing through the old wood, the tip just barely missing his nose. His heart pounded against the metal chest plate like a beating drum, his lungs completely drained of all air. He began to kneel on the ground for some support since his legs started to give out from the revelation. His body was burning up, like he just got lit on fire from the Red Dragon or was a little too close to one of Marcille's explosion spells.

He just saw you naked. Not completely, but still, he just saw your breasts. He was used to and never cared about seeing others nude or topless, whether they be male or female — monster or not — it's just parts but seeing you?

Despite being here for most of your life, the skin from what he saw was quite smooth and rather mostly unblemished. It's like scars weren't able to attach onto the surface, as if they weren't allowed to. And the curvature of your heavy breasts, the noticeable suppleness of both when you moved and inadvertently squeezed them with your arm. They weren't udders at all either like he thought they were, they were undeniably humanlike, no fur included. He imagined biting into them, wondering if it'll be easy to sink his teeth into the squishy fat while he sucked on both the spilling blood and milk, thinking about the mix of sweetness and tangy that'll occur if he did. He'd be especially lucky to leave any mark on your pristine skin during the process, his body tingling at the idea of being the only one — the only human — to permanently leave something behind.

Laios couldn't stop salivating, a hand over his mouth to prevent him from drooling all over himself. He's shaking, why was he shaking? Was it from the fear of these unstoppable thoughts of his? Because of the leaf he ate not a moment ago? No. It's because of these recent developments and the answers he was getting from them, he was becoming... excited.

What the fuck was wrong with him?

‘•.¸♡ ♡¸.•’'•.¸♡ ♡¸.•’'•.¸♡ ♡¸.•’

The door finally creaked open, a small glass bottle being pushed towards him from the barely ajar entrance. He looked up to where your head would be, your eyes nervously staring down to the side. You started to apologize in a soft mumble as you slowly revealed yourself, now completely dressed.

"Sorry for throwing my weapon at you earlier, but this is all I can give right now. If I had eaten Night Lucernes prior, it would've been better quality. Um... enjoy I guess?"

"Thank you for the drink." Laios smiled and took the bottle in his hands, staring at the liquid. It was warm, which was expected since it just came out of your body, and it wasn't fully white like he thought it would be, the color just had the faintest tinge of yellow that could be missed if he wasn't looking close enough. He took the glass's edge to his lips and finally, he took a small swig of it.

Sweet, precisely as he thought it would be, but not as overtly strong to make him sick or give him an immediate cavity. The book was right to say that it was thick, almost similar to a honey-like consistency but still light enough to not choke at the heavy feeling of it go down his throat. He didn't realize that he quickly drank all of it at once, his tongue running across his lips to catch any remaining liquid left. You said that this wasn't the best quality, but he couldn't imagine it being any better than what he just drank.

"That was..." Laios paused, smacking his lips to try and remember the taste once more. Your face slightly fell, eyebrows worriedly scrunching together. "Amazing!"

"R-really?" The slightly-afraid look melted off in relief, your eyes glowing in happiness. "No one ever said that it tasted amazing before... Actually, no one actually tried it before except you Laios."

He... he was the first one that tried your milk? The fleeting thoughts he had prior ran through his mind again, his cheeks flushing a slight pink. If he really was the first one that drank something of yours... then it's only right that it would be specially reserved for him right? It's really selfish of him to keep this amazing beverage from his dear party, but something like this should be cherished by the one that adores you the most.

He quickly grabbed your hands, holding them up as he squeezed them tightly in excitement. "Can I have more later? I won't tell our party, it'll be our little secret exchange between the two of us."

Laios watched your expression turned from complete shock to shy awe, your tail twitching around and thumping against your legs. You were silent for a bit before looking up at him, a determined glint in your eyes. "W-what's in it for me? I can't just be the only one giving you something.

Shit. That was fair of you to bring up but him as a normal Tall-man, there was very little he could give you in return for your breast milk. "What would you want from me anyway?"

His mind immediately went into the gutter: you wanted to eat something off of him. It could be considered a fair exchange, consumable body part for consumable bodily fluid. Maybe you were getting tired of eating monsters, needing your actual nutrition from people. He started to get nervous, what would he be able to give you from his body? Would a finger satiate you or would you need something larger? Laios can't really give up his arms or legs, he'd need them in order to get through the dungeon and save Falin. Tongue was completely out of the question, he can't imagine not being able to taste food in both normal and monster dishes.

The idea of giving you his dick to consume suddenly popped up in his mind, the thought of trying to cut it off caused him to pale. He didn't use it much compared to his other body parts, only needing it to use to take a leak; he wasn't really the sexually active type either, being able to count the partners he previously had on only one hand. Technically and hesitantly, that would be the only large body part that he can give up for you.

Briefly, he imagined how'd you eat it. You weren't an messy eater when it came to Senshi's food — despite having to learn how to use utensils but still preferring to make use of your hands — so you'd probably be as neat as possible with it. You'd eat it raw, as soon as he managed to slice it off his person, warm crimson slipping down your fingers as you bite down through the layers of skin and muscle.

Or there was the possibility that you wanted to take it off yourself, kneeling right down in-between his legs, hands slowly sliding up his thighs to his hips as you approached his lower half. He'd be forced to watch you take his soft cock into your mouth, probably struggling if he accidentally got hard during the process. The last thing that Laios would feel would be your mouth's warmth wrapping around it before chomping down.

A shiver went down his spine, though it didn't feel as horrid as it was supposed to be.

With your big lashed eyes, you slowly blinked once more as a small smile grew on your lips. "Knowledge. I want to learn about the outside world. I've never left the dungeon before, all the adventurers that came before your party prevented me from ever trying."

Oh... That's actually not a bad exchange request, simple in nature. At least he gets to keep his junk, despite his heart still pounding from what his fucked-up mind just mustered up.

"Okay deal. I'll teach you about my world in exchange for milk." He put out his hand, letting you reach out and shake it. Your eyes relaxed as you smiled warmly up at him, finally letting him go. Laios then went over and patted your head, rubbing the top gently. You stiffened lightly at the gesture, his fingers brushing over the horns. They were smooth with faint ring-like indentations, almost an ivory-creamy color. Truly a fascinating feeling.

"There you guys are! You've been gone for so long that we were starting to get worried." Marcille. You batted his hand off of your head quickly, turned around with a tautly-pulled grin towards the elven girl.

"Must've lost track of time finding what Senshi wanted, sorry about the wait. You guys must be starving by now." The two of you started to chat walking back to the temporary camp, Laios watching and following from behind. You pulled out the oxalis in your bag to show her, a proud expression beaming off your face as you brought up his face when he first tried it. His stomach twisted, his hand resting on the top of his armor-covered abdomen.

There were very few monsters he found cute, most being out-of-this-world frightening to gaze upon, but you truly were one of the cuter ones around. He felt hungry again as your hips swayed from side to side, tail flicking around. He brushed the fingers that he touched your horns with against his lips, reminiscing on the texture. How sensitive were they? You did go rigid when he brushed against them, but it could be just from the shock.

Saliva was building up in his mouth again, and he could only harshly swallow back the feeling.

Deplorable he was with this appetite, the desire to consume you piece by piece. Would you accept that as one of your final fates? Rather than being killed and left behind with little to no chance of being revived, he'd pick up every raw part of you and eat it, savoring each bite in respect for what you've sacrificed to help him find his sister. Laios would try to bring the inedible bits of you with him — bones, teeth, horns, nails, hooves, hair — for the rest of this dungeon's journey and back into his world. Your wish would be granted, despite not being able to fully witness it yourself; you might even thank him for that bit of kindness too.

This thing the two of you had was special, unbeknownst to the others. A friendship that couldn't be understood by the other members of the party, but was completely comprehensible to only you and him. Symbiotic, just almost mutualistic. A love of one's flesh in exchange for the love of another's world.

Love.

Though Laios has expressed his heavy interest and passion in monsters, he never had said he loved them. Most were mindlessly dangerous, no matter how small or large they were, acting on base instinct. Yet, you were different. In fact, he could say that you were the opposite of him. Instead of being grouped together with your fellow monster-kind, you were more interested in being around outsiders. Different sides of the same golden coin.

A realization hit him, his eyes widening. The strange feelings in his body, the perverse, obsessive fantasies he's been having about you... It could only mean that he—

"Jeez Laios, you've been spacing out all day. Are you okay?"

He snapped out of it, staring at the concerned looks of both you and Marcille. Laios only smiled, his golden eyes focused completely on your form. Both your ear and tail tip was twitching, flicking in the air as if a fly was nearby.

"I'm just hungry, that's all."

183 notes · View notes

lovelyiida · 2 years ago

Text

THE RACE TO WEDDING BELLS ❤︎︎

CHAPTER 1: THE SIMPLETON; YOU.

"accept calls from strangers."

❥ SYNOPSIS: as the years passed, Bakugo realized he was the last among his class to tie the knot. As the days grew colder, and the nights became lonelier. Bakugo finds the desire to get married, but he doesn't really feel like falling in love. At least he has his trustee secretary!

implied fem reader, aged-up! Pro-hero MHA characters over the age of 27, vulgar language, suggestive wording and content

❥: CHAPTERS

❥ MASTERLIST

❥ JOIN TAG LIST!

WORDS: 6.7K

You are a hard-working citizen, you are straightforward, diligent, focused, and most of all. You don’t take anyone’s shit.

Since a young age, you harbored grand aspirations of collaborating with the renowned hero Dynamight. Even during your high school years, witnessing the fledgling hero proclaims his ambition to become the top hero to millions of viewers on live national television deeply resonated with you.

He was a hero you admired deeply, whether that was in combat or in any other position.

Driven by an intense desire to be in close proximity to the fiery and passionate hero, you applied yourself with unwavering diligence. Night after night, you immersed yourself in rigorous study, methodically reviewing each cue card until the ink was exhausted and the pencils were rendered brittle from the forceful strokes onto your notebook.

Before you knew it, you graduated college majoring in hero analysis with a minor in communications.

the first few years after college were hard, without any significant connections, you had little to no experience beforehand to get any major positions in well-affiliated agencies.

Pizza for breakfast and granola bars for dinner, staying up for days and sleeping fewer nights. Going to countless amounts of interviews, passing trial after trial.

yet denied, denied, denied.

you began to lose hope, you felt that all the hard work you did was for nothing. You were fearful of the eventual future set in place for you. A dead-end office job at some random corporate office that could barely pay the bills, "comfortable" housing, and an urge to die because you never lived up to your expectations.

On a rain-soaked day in Japan, a biting chill permeated the air as the relentless downpour battered your umbrella, the droplets cascading off its surface with effortless ease. As you made your way from yet another failed interview, the weight of repeated rejection hung heavily upon you.

This time, however, you didn't feel particularly upset about it. The hero's demands were simply unreasonable, and you had no intention of acquiescing to such outlandish requests. After all, the hero's accomplishments were hardly noteworthy and their reputation was far from impressive. Barely reaching the top 100 rated heroes in Japan, he wasn’t worth any second of your time.

With a resigned sigh, you trudged out into the bustling streets of Japan, surveying the sea of faces before you with a critical eye. Among the throngs of people passing by, you observed carefree children strolling hand in hand with their parents, and trendy teens sporting high-waisted shorts and fishnet stockings, flaunting their disregard for the curfew that surely awaited them.

The distinction between the two groups of people made you notice something…you either abide by the rules or defied them.

So then what were you?

You were the simpleton of course, sadly...

Like so many others trudging along these rain-soaked streets, you found yourself caught up in the unrelenting hustle to secure a job that would never truly fulfill you. Your expression was weighed down by the burden of this unending search, with a heavy heart and a growl in your stomach. you absentmindedly made your way into a nearby ramen shop.

the chill of the rain subsides to the warm embrace of the restaurant. Bustling voices of citizens and the loud clanks of kitchenware. you were greeted by the workers and you bowed. setting your things down at an absent table, you look over to the ordering tablet. clicking a couple of buttons, you ordered your meal. Before you could sulk in your seat, your phone buzzes.

Jolting in surprise, you pick up the phone to read the contact name:

UA WORKFORCE CORP.

Your eyes lit up with unbridled joy as a rush of adrenaline surged through your body. The reason for this sudden surge of excitement was none other than the prospect of being selected as a trainee with UA Corporations, whether it be through the prestigious school or one of the legendary hero agencies affiliated with it.

It all began last year when you submitted your application, and the possibility of this dream finally becoming a reality now had you feeling electrified.

Around a couple of months, you've passed through multiple rounds of other people who have applied for the position. Interview after interview, test after test, you knew that if you got the job you'd be on the track that led you to your dream.

"hello!" you said excitedly.

"yes, hello, is this l/n y/n?" a woman says on the other end of the line. You quickly confirm your identity with the woman. "hello there, I'm here to give you acknowledgment of the results of the final round pick for the UA CORP. affiliates position." the woman's voice rang through your phone, heart beating fast...breath staggered your reply.

"y-yes?" you stuttered.

"Yes, l/n, I'm sorry to inform you--"

[CALL ENDED]

With a swift press of a button, you ended the call, throwing your phone onto the table you sit in silence. tears began to stream down your face as you lowered your head to the table. Your body was wracked with sobs, each tear that fell causing your breath to catch in your throat.

why are you not good enough?

As the weight of reality bore down on you, your tears flowed even harder, your throat constricting as you tried to swallow. Was all your hard work for so reason? Are your dreams non-attainable? Is this just not the past you're destined to take?

After a moment, you sat back up in your seat, heedless of the tears and makeup staining your white button-down shirt. With red-rimmed eyes, you reached for your phone and began to scroll through Google, determined to find some sort of solution to the crushing blow you had just been dealt.

'office jobs near me.'

biting your lip, you try and stop your lip from quivering. you felt as if you were destined for despair since you were a child.

Like so many others, you too idolized heroes when you were young, running around your house with makeshift masks and capes that resembled the same heroes you watched on TV. Full of youthful hope and possessing a fairly decent quirk, you dreamed of one day joining the ranks of these legendary figures.

Fast forward a few years, and you found yourself in middle school. After a long day of classes, you trudged your way back home, collapsed onto your bed, and drifted off into a deep sleep, ready to take on whatever the next day had in store for you.

but the only thing is, you didn't wake up.

you didn't wake up for another three days to be exact. when you finally awoke in the hospital, your parent broke the news to you. You seemed to catch a very rare parasite, this parasite can leave the host sickly with fever, very drowsy, and worst of all...

quirkless.

The following week at school, you shared the news with your classmates: you were essentially quirkless now. But instead of receiving words of encouragement and hope, you found yourself labeled an outcast by everyone around you.

"the girl who lived, but at the cost of her quirk."

Years later, the news still shook you to your core, and you couldn't help but feel stunned. present day, you've noticed that you could still use your quirk from time to time. around 10 times a year, your quirk would come and go in little spurts. but as time grew long, you became accustomed to not using it for a long time, so you never did.

so now here you were, alone, quirkless, and a soon to be slave to the corporate world.

cheeks stained with mascara, eyes red, and head pounding, you look over to the ordering tray, sliding out the hot ramen ready to be consumed.

"at least this ramen can make me feel better," you mumbled to yourself. Taking the large bowl from the tray, you set it out on the table and began to dig in. As you eat, you begin to scroll ok your phone looking for regular office jobs…

Manager at printing company? No.

Office associates needed at tech company? No.

Receptionist at steel company? No way.

Senior communications analyst? What?

Scroll, scroll, scroll.

Deny, deny, deny!

This can’t be your reality right? How are you going to break this down to your parents?

Deep in thought, you didn’t even realize that someone slid in your booth. Tapping away on your phone, you open your messages.

Group chat: Mom & Dad

you: hanging in there! So close!

letting out a sigh, you open the camera app. Looking at the screen you see yourself, torn up from the floor up. Eyes a faint pink contrasting from the red they were a few moments beforehand. Pressing your lips together into a line, you quickly tap your screen to flip your camera.

Flipping your camera, you stare at the screen. A man appears on the other side, as he looks at the camera in embarrassment.

Eyes widening you gasp, “Excuse me, but there’s other seats around,” you try to sound as nice as possible, but why should you be nice if today hasn’t been so nice to you back?

The man was covered in black from head to toe, black hood on tight, as he looks at you. Black-shaded glasses and a matching face mask on him.

“Um, can I sit with you please?” He says.

Rolling your eyes, you become irritated, “no. now if you can please move–“

“Please, I can’t sit alone, people will notice me!” He whispers, body leaning in towards you, jolting backward, you frown in confusion.

“What?” You say, tone cold and filled with irritancy.

“Um…listen this is the only time I’ve got to myself, and I love this place! And if people see me alone then they’ll notice me, so can I just please sit with you?”

Blinking rapidly, you grew quiet.

Looking around, you see no one looking toward you or the mysterious man ahead of you. Looking back, you then sink into your seat. Grabbing your face with your hands, you soon let out a deep sigh.

“Sure, fuck it, go ahead, this day can’t possibly get any worse!” You laugh to yourself. This makes the man’s head tilt. “May I ask why your day is bad?” He says. Removing your hands from your face you give him a deadpan look. Licking your lips you sit up from your chair and grab your utensils.

Stirring your noodles around you let out a dry chuckle, “Let’s just say things never go the way I want them to—and there’s also a random man in front of my face when I could really like being alone at the moment…the small things.”

You say, sarcasm drenched with every word you spoke. This makes the man laugh, “Sorry your day has been shit.”

Leaning into his seat, you crossed his arms. “Maybe I can make your day better? Go ahead, have at me,” the man says.

Letting out an irritated sigh, you confess.

“The only thing that can make me happy at the moment, is if you can somehow give me a job at UA Corp.”

You chuckle, the utter impossibility of what you just said made it humorous. “Really?” The man says. “Really,” you replied back.

“I think I can do that,” he says, his tone relaxed and suave—he sounds as if he can in fact…do that.

“As if,” you snort.

“You wanna make it a bet?” He says, his tone was playful and a tad bit flirtatious. “I can get you to work for the top pro-hero’s in the country, all I need to do is make the call.” He says as every word falls off his tongue with no effort.

This peaks your interests.

“You don’t say?” you reply back.

“Who do you want to work for sweetheart? Just give me any name.” He says.

“Okay…Dynamight, I—I want to become a secretary! That’s the position!” You say, your tone desperate and hopeful.

The man smirks behind his mask, “Okay.” Pulling out his phone, he hands it to you. “Give me your number, you’ll be getting a call soon.” He says, biting your lip you grab the phone and do as he says.

You're well aware of the dangers of blindly accepting what strangers say; it's like common sense 101. And yet, here you are, drawn towards a man who's covered in black from head to toe. It's not the smartest move, but there's just something about him that makes you want to place your faith in him. You can't quite put your finger on it—maybe it's the intensity of his gaze, or the air of mystery surrounding him—but you can't help but feel a strange attraction towards him. It's a risky move, but sometimes you just have to trust your gut, even if it defies all reason.

“Do you promise?” You spoke softly, this earns a chuckle out of the man, “Of course! You’re making a deal with a god—not a devil.”

As you gaze into the stranger's dark eyes, you can't help but feel a shiver run down your spine. There's something about him that doesn't sit right, and whatever god he may or may not represent, he's not exactly acting like one. But despite your reservations, you continue to chat with him, and as the conversation flows, you begin to let your guard down. Eventually, you find yourself sinking back into your seat, pouting slightly as you polish off the rest of your meal. You can't quite put your finger on it, but there's just something about this mysterious man that's drawing you in, despite all the warning signs.

You're not quite sure how to process the choices you've made, given how impulsive they were. It's not exactly the wisest decision to act on a whim fueled by intense emotions, but you simply didn't give a damn. Life's been pretty rough lately, and if things are already this bad, then why not make them even worse? That seems to be your thought process, as you ride the waves of your tumultuous feelings, consequences be damned.

throwing your utensils into the empty bowl, you gather your things and shuffle out of the booth. Standing before the mysterious man, you frown. "are you going to eat anything?" you ask.

"Nah, I think I'm gonna eat somewhere else...you've made me have a taste for something different." Soon, the man jumps out of his seat and walks away, brushing past your shoulder with ease.

Astonished, you look back and watch the man leave out the restaurant in a hurry.

What just happened?

for the rest of the day, you carried yourself through your regular routine. eat, think, cry, repeat. As day turned to noon, and noon falls to night...you grew anxious for a reply from the mysterious man you met earlier today. Heart pounding and blood running cold you sit in your apartment kitchen, your phone a couple of feet away from you on the kitchen counter. As you were sitting on the other side, the wooden chair creaked with every movement you made.

You didn't know what to think of the situation before you, looking around the apartment, the shadows grew as you fell deeper into the times of night. Looking at the clock, it read 10:39pm.

Letting out a sigh, you rise from your seat and grab your phone. you head into your bedroom, crashing onto your bed (that could be softer) you lay and stare at the ceiling.

"Is this my life now?" you questioned yourself.

You purse your lips and shut your eyes tight, hoping to drift off into slumber and escape the terrible day that's left you feeling like crap. Sleep seems like the perfect distraction—a chance to shut out the world and forget all the stress and negativity that's been weighing you down. With a deep breath, you try to clear your mind and let yourself sink into the warm embrace of sleep, hoping that tomorrow will be a better day.

RING RING RING RING

the sounds of your phone sound an alarm through your body, shooting up from your bed you scramble to your phone. breath staggered and heart pounding, grabbing the phone you read the contact number.

ANONONYMUS CALLER

eyeing the phone more, you read the time. 5:57am? It's way too early to be answering calls...but you knew this call could be important. Taking in a deep breath, you answer the phone.

"h-hello?" you say, you breathed hard onto the other end. Anticipating the voice on the other end of the phone. A moment has passed by, the phone still attached to your ear, you sit on your bed waiting for someone to speak.

"Hello? Is anyone there?" you ask again, you hear nothing but static on the other end. Swallowing your spit, you curse and begin to end the call.

"l/n, isn't it?" a familiar voice rang out, eyes widening you press your ear back onto the phone. "yes! This is she!" you softly exclaimed.

"you've got the job, I'm sending you the location of where you need to be...meet me there at 8:30am sharp not a minute before, not a minute after. Do you understand me?" the voice rang cold, monotone, and raspy.

your heart was jumping out of your skeleton at this point, unable to refuse, you complied. "Okay! Thank you again, for helping me...whoever you are," you say.

"Don't mention it, you'll know who I am, and soon everything will fall into place," maybe you were hearing things, but you could hear a twinge of humor in his tone.

before you could reply, the phone disconnected from the call. you couldn't believe it. "I'm working for Dynamight?" you say aloud, in disbelief. A smile etched onto your face, but you soon wiped it off.

Standing from your bed, you began to pace. "let's not celebrate now y/n, there are still many factors that need to be noticed..."

factors which are:

where is this location?

this could be a trafficking scam

you could be dead in a couple of hours

but what if it was real?

The power of belief was astounding—it seemed that the mere possibility of something being real outweighed all other considerations tenfold. Excitement bubbled up inside you as you prepared to head to the location, eagerly zooming around your room to fix your hair and makeup. You even practiced your best customer service voice, running through lines and mentally rehearsing how you would handle different scenarios. All that mattered was making a good impression, and the prospect of the unknown made your heart race with anticipation.

"How can I help you Mr. Dynamight?" "Your meeting is scheduled at this time Mr. Dynamight" "Would you like any coffee Mr. Dynamight?" you in your sweetest voice possible. Giggling in excitement you reach for the bottom drawer of your dresser. Pulling the drawer, you smile with excitement.

"The time has come, you're finally getting what you deserve." Looking down at the clothes before you, you planned on wearing this outfit for the first day on the job.

You expected to find your outfit covered in cobwebs when you pulled it out of the drawer, but to your surprise, it was in impeccable condition. Not a single wrinkle marred the pristine fabric, and there wasn't a single stain to be found. You had ironed and steamed everything to perfection, determined to look your absolute best. Your outfit was the epitome of sophistication - a classic white button-down paired with sleek black work pants and matching heels. You couldn't help but feel a sense of pride as you admired yourself in the mirror, ready to tackle whatever challenges lay ahead.

throwing your clothes on, you read the clock, 7:51am. eyes widening, you look at yourself in the mirror one last time before grabbing your things and rushing out the door.

flagging down a taxi, you hurriedly give the driver the location. your heart leaped from your chest once more when you read the location details on the screen.

DYNAMIGHT RIOT HERO AGENCY ©

this is seriously happening? you thought to yourself.

"you work there ma'am?" the taxi driver asks. a new rush of pride washes over you, "yes, I do...it's my first day." you say, a shy smile paints over your face. "congrats, I heard it's not so easy getting a job at places like that, my niece tried to work there but got denied after 2 years of interviews."

"wow," was the only word that could come out of your lips.

"how'd you get in? connections?" he pries. "um...you could say that, but I think I got here out of pure luck, you wouldn't believe it." You chuckle, the man smacks his lips at your reply, obviously upset at your success. Forming your mouth into an "oh," you sit back in your seat and look away from the man.

The silence between you and the man lingered awkwardly for what felt like an eternity, as the taxi sped on for the next 20 minutes. You were relieved to finally see the agency's headquarters looming up ahead, massive in size and bold in color. The building stood tall, almost like a skyscraper, with bright hues of red and orange radiating from its walls. Your eyes widened in amazement as you watched countless people streaming in and out of the entrance, going about their day-to-day business. As the taxi slowed to a stop, the driver tried to navigate his way toward the front of the building, and you couldn't help but feel a rush of excitement and nervousness at what lay ahead.

"Thank you!" before the taxi could even stop, you jump out of the vehicle. Throwing your total amount for the ride into the car, you slam the door and rush towards the building. Clutching your briefcase tight, you swallow the lump in your throat.

Before stepping forward, you feel your phone vibrate. It's another text from the man you met yesterday.

ANONYMOUS:

walk into the building and head straight into the right elevator by the bathroom, when you get in go to the 21st floor.

when you get there, there will be a front desk. ask for red. tell them your name, and they'll know who you are.

a lady will lead you into a room, wait there until further notice.

"Here goes nothing," putting the phone away you do as you were told and walk into the building. you were absolutely astonished by the size of the first floor, to the point where you became overwhelmed. businessmen and woman hustling to their destination, mascots dancing to the faint music, trying to stay on the beat but the sound of children screaming in amusement drown out the tempo. tour guides leading the way for curious visitors.

This place was a workplace war zone...

Letting your heels carry you away, you head towards said elevators. you waited patiently in line to enter the elevator. looking at the elevators, you look at the vinyl art on it. It's a picture of Dynamight and his partner Red Riot, fists in the air and victorious smiles shining bright you read the quote on the elevator.

"Work hard, grab victory by the throat, and win!"

Very Dynamight coded, you'll say.

Packing into the elevator like sardines, you notice there's an assistant there who presses the buttons. Do they seriously need a position like that here? "Floor 21 please!" you yell out. You notice the multiple workers give you an unreadable look, frowning you hang your head low in embarrassment.

After a good 2 minutes of waiting your turn, you finally reach your designated floor. squishing past the still rather large group of people, you take in a deep breath of fresh air. Holding your briefcase tight, you look back and thank the assistant.

"good luck, you'll need it," the assistant and everyone else in the elevator starts to burst into a fit of laughter. Confused, you were about to ask why but the elevator quickly closed. Adjusting your uniform, you bite the inside of your cheek.

"Don't let them get to you y/n, this is your dream," you reassure yourself, stepping towards the front desk. you see a lady, her mid-forties at least. typing rapidly at her computer. "Excuse me, ma'am," you say softly, you watch as the lady's typing comes to a swift halt.

"yes?" she says, rather rudely, still looking at her computer.

Blinking, a little bit held back from shock "Hi, I'm here to see Red? I-I'm l/n y/n." The lady soon lets out a chuckle, turning away from you, she opens up a drawer and pulls out a paper. Pulling at the paper, she grabs a pen and writes your name down and hands you a name tag sticker.

As you examined the sticker more closely, you couldn't help but cringe at its childish design. Tiny caricatures of pro-heroes adorned the borders of the "Hi, my name is!" label, and you felt a pang of embarrassment as you peeled it off and quickly slapped it onto the left side of your chest, right over your heart. It was a small gesture, but it hurt your pride to have to wear something so unprofessional.

"Please walk into that room over there...and also, word of advice, you should start wearing all black," the lady smirks, taking her hands and running them down her body. showing you that she is in fact, wearing all black. Looking down at your white shirt, you face heats up from your embarrassment. "may I ask why?" you say. The lady continues to do her work, not even giving you a look of acknowledgement.

Nodding, you give a polite bow and head into the waiting room. As you walk into the room, you're filled with shock. the room was quite large...but there was only one seat? Deadpan in the middle of the room, the metal chair sits unharmed. you laugh out of nervousness, the sight of the chair makes the embarrassment you felt merely seconds ago wash away.

Walking to the seat, you sit and patiently wait. The sound of the fluorescent lights buzzing, at the white noise, fills your eardrums. you quietly tapped your fingertips against your briefcase to the imaginary beat in your head. looking around, all you see is the grey carpeting and white walls, and the tv straight ahead of you.

You waited for a good 30 minutes in silence, distracting yourself on your phone as you waited, and waited, and waited. You constantly kept checking your messages, hoping for another anonymous message, but was left with a dry phone.

letting out a sigh, you frown. "is this some joke?" looking around the room, you spot a security camera behind you in the corner of the room. it's blinking red light flashing into your eyes, turning around you ponder to yourself.

"This must be a joke, that's why everyone has been laughing at me this whole time. I should've never came here," defeated, you began to gather your things. As you stood up to head for the door, the lights soon cut off. you let out a yelp, walking in the dark your hands extend out for the chair behind you, soon with a sigh you sit down. The tv you saw soon cuts on, a bright white screen shines and takes over the whole room.

"WELCOME L/N Y/N!" the screen says blankly, the text blinking on and off, if this was supposed to invoke excitement, it's doing the bare minimum. you stare at the screen and wait for anything else, but the screen soon goes black. another minute in the dark passes by as you sit in your seat absolutely dumbfounded.

The screen turns on again, this time there's faint music sounding from it. soon you see a random person on the screen, probably a paid actor. "hello there fellow newbie! Welcome to Dynamight Riot Hero's Headquarters! Today, I'll be with you along the ride as we both become secretaries!" the actress, obviously way too happy to be here inquiries.

after watching the 10-minute-long do's and don't's video, the screen blinks to white again. squinting your eyes at the bright light, the black sans serif font shows on the screen again.

KEY REMINDERS:

DON'T TELL ANYONE YOU'RE A SECRETARY!

BE A GOOD WORKER!

ALWAYS BE ON TIME!

AND MOST OF ALL: WORD HARD!!

soon after the screen turns off, a couple of seconds go by and the room lights flash back on, you hiss as you cover your eyes so you don't get flash-banged for the fifteenth time. eyes still covered, you hear a door open and footsteps walk towards you.

uncovering your eyes, you look towards the floor to adjust to the bright white lighting. "so sorry, just give me a second!" you nervously chuckle. "don't worry, take your time!" the voice says politely.

wait, that voice.

It's the man you saw yesterday! Your hand soon uncovers your eyes and you look up. "It's you-" eyes shooting wide, your hand flings towards your mouth.

Red Riot?

"ah, guilty as charged! Happy to see me and not some creep aren't ya? You really need to have a better guard, I could've just been anybody!" he laughs. A frown soon shows on your face, "so you were the guy at the ramen restaurant? Why the hell was you there?" you growl. The pro-hero frowns playfully at your attitude.

"tone, little miss! that isn't a way to talk to your new boss. you know, I thought we let in a complete stranger for a second! you look so different when your face isn't soaked with tears and runny mascara." he jabs at you with a mischievous grin which makes you roll your eyes.

"Whatever. And Boss? Dynamight's my boss!" you argue. Red Riot rolls his eyes at your words, "Last time I checked, my name is out on that building and in that shitty little video you just watched." He says, somehow sounding so polite cursing at you. "And you're gonna wish you worked for me and instead of him by the end of the day"

looking at him, your frown never left your lips, "can we start now?" you say.

"Sure! right this way!" he says, walking away from you, you hurriedly grab your bags and walk alongside him. before you could reach the door the hero turns and blocks your way from seeing the other side.

"Also, uh...wear all black next time." he says, his eyes travel down your figure, and you bite your lips in embarrassment. "why?" you ask. "Because it is a thing we do here, we want everyone to be seen as equals to us, we are all people here at the end of the day, hence we all wear the same thing. Plus, it's because we say so and it looks cool." he chuckles to himself at his last words, turning around he walks away.

As you walked into the office setting, you couldn't help but feel a sense of shock and disbelief. Everywhere you looked, it seemed like the people around you were robots going about their tasks with mechanical precision. Everyone wore the same drab black outfits, and you couldn't help but wonder if it was some kind of strange joke.

The more you walked, you could feel the eyes of the other employees snapping toward you, their stifled chuckles and whispers following you with every step. It was as if they were all in on some kind of inside joke, and you couldn't help but feel like an outsider in this strange, black-button-down world.

As Red Riot led you around the office, you couldn't help but feel a sense of awe wash over you. Here you were, walking alongside one of the most legendary heroes of all time. It was hard to believe that this was actually happening - that you were standing in the same room as Red Riot himself. Despite your nerves, you couldn't stop smiling as you walked, eagerly listening to every word that he had to say. It was as if you were soaking up every moment of this incredible experience, committing it all to memory so that you could remember it forever. As you continued to explore the office, you knew that this was a moment that you would never forget.

"And here's our final stop! The boss's office, the one and only Dynamight's quarters" he says. "you'll be in and out of here often, so get ready for that," he chuckles. you quickly nod at his words, "before I let you in this room, do you have any questions?" he asks. you shake your head no, licking your lips you look forward at the doors. The golden plate shined brightly as it read his name:

PRO-HERO DYNAMIGHT: かつきばくご

"Alright then!" soon, the hero bangs on the door. "see you around, fresh meat! by the way, cute sticker" he laughs, walking away from you. You were left standing in shock, did he just leave you here all alone?

"Come in," you hear a voice say. eyes snapping towards the door. You let out a shaky breath. Grabbing the door handle you slowly twist. "don't be a pussy y/n, you wanted this!" you whisper to yourself. Pushing the door open, words couldn't express the emotions you felt at this moment. Looking at your one and only inspiration in front of you, in all his glory.

Dynamight!

The sun was rising outside, casting a golden light over the room and illuminating the blond hair of the number one hero. As he looked into your eyes, you couldn't help but notice the way that his amber irises seemed to glow in the light. It was as if he was lit from within, radiating power and confidence. You took a quick glance at his attire and noticed that he was wearing a simple black shirt and matching sweatpants. It wasn't exactly business casual, but who were you to judge? This man was the number one hero, after all. He could walk in wearing a clown suit and you wouldn't bat an eyelash.

"You're the new hire? Right?" he says, his voice deep and captivating, way calmer than what you've seen on tv as it is early in the morning. You nod your head, the hero guides his hand towards the open seat in front of his desk, you follow and sit in the comfortable leather chair.

"Yes, my name is L/n Y/n!" you spoke softly, "I know." He spits back, you blame it on the early mornings. "Here are some ground rules we need to set in place, firstly..."

As he continued to speak, you found yourself hanging on his every word, completely swept up in his presence. It was almost surreal to be sitting across from the pro-hero, and you couldn't help but feel a mixture of excitement and disbelief. You quickly pinched your thigh, just to make sure you weren't dreaming.

As you looked at Dynamight, you couldn't help but feel a flutter in your stomach. Seeing him in person was a completely different experience altogether - and you couldn't help but think that he was even more attractive up close. Maybe it was the fact that he was being so soft-spoken with you at the moment. How many people had actually seen him like this before? You couldn't help but wonder if this was a rare occurrence, and you silently thanked the heavens and the stars above that you were one of the few lucky ones to witness it.

The way his muscles flex as he holds your résumé–

Wait, how did he get your résumé?

“Excuse me?” You chime in, the pro-hero hangs his head low for a moment. Lifting his head up, he lets out a sigh, “I don’t like to be interrupted…" he looks down at your name tag for a mere moment, "l/n” he says. “I’m sorry I just have a question,” you state.

“Shoot,” he says, sarcasm oozing from his tone.

“How exactly did you get my résumé?” You asked, “What? Did you think we weren’t going to do a background check on you? You could be some psychotic fan for all I fuckin’ know,” he says, the morning rasp in his tone sends you ablaze as heat rises to your face.

“Oh! Right, well I’m not so,” you awkwardly chuckled. “Yeah I know, you’ve gotta…pretty good lookin’ résumé here,” the hero flips through a couple of pages, confirming his words.

You couldn’t believe it, the Dynamight called you qualified for the job! “Thank you so much! It means a lot to me that–“

“Okay listen, l/n, it’s early in the morning, and me and my partner just came back abroad from a goddamn mission. So imagine how I feel sitting here at this desk talkin’ to you and filling out these papers instead of in my bed sound fuckin’ asleep. I’m gonna need you to tone it down alright?” He says, his tone raises as he grows irritated at your chipper attitude.

Blinking you bow in your seat, “I’m sorry Mr. Dynamight!” You spoke softly. “Don’t call me that, please just…don’t.” The hero rises from his seat and walks towards the door, you quickly stand up and follow suit.

“What should I call you then?” You spoke, his back facing towards you, the man let out a deep sigh, his palm cradling his neck. Rubbing the sensitive spot as he quietly hisses in pain.

“Just call me Dynamight, I don’t need people to go around calling you a lost puppy looking for their owner with the damn honorifics,” he says.

A brief moment of silence enveloped the large office, as the sound of the ticking clock grew increasingly louder with each passing second. Suddenly, Dynamight broke the stillness with a deep, audible sigh, turning to face you with a look of slight exasperation on his face. It was clear that he had a lot on his mind and a lot to worry about. And it seems like you're not making it any easier.

“When you came up here to this room, I hope you noticed why everyone was laughing at you. I want you to take what you went through into deep analysis…l/n.” He says, tone sharp and crude as his eyes bore into your being.

“Why’d you sit in that waiting room with only one fuckin’ chair? Eh?” He says, a hint of humor in his tone. Your frown at him, looking down you try to really think back as to what happened.

“I’m sorry, Dynamight—I’m not sure.” You spoke, this makes the hero frown. “The reason why—is because every secretary that has worked for me, has quit.”

oh.

Swallowing your spit, you nod understanding the real reasoning behind the dirty looks and laughs. “Every single secretary that has been under me quits in no less than three months you wanna know why? Because of me.” He says as a sinister smile tugs at his lips, almost as if he’s proud of it.

“Well…how do you know that I’m not different?” You mumbled. The hero lets out a chuckle, because—I got a feeling you won’t last a month. You can prance around here with your happy attitude and white button-down, but I and you both know that you’re supposed to wear black.”

Why the hell does wearing black matter so much here?!

“So you’ve already defied me once, you get three strikes, no if, and's, or but's about it. And we both know what happens when you get to strike three,” he says smugly. “Don’t we?” He asks. Frowning, you hung your head low to avoid his fiery gaze.

“Yes…Dynamight, we do.”

You couldn't deny the fact that you were a little bit scared about what the future held for you here. But at the same time, you couldn't help but feel a sense of excitement and anticipation as you walked through the office. You were determined to make the best of this opportunity, even if it meant dealing with a difficult boss or two. After all, you were ready to face any challenge that came your way, as long as it meant being able to take this incredible opportunity.

“Good,” he says, his smile drops and he soon opens the door, letting it slam onto the wall. This makes you jump, you quickly gather your things and follow behind.

You watch as all the employees ride from their seats and greet the hero. But he doesn’t give as much as a mumble back in reply.

“You’re going to be following me around for the day, can you do that task?” He asks, you nod and speak, “Yes, Dynamight I can.”

You were happy to be alongside the hero, he was your inspiration, your happiness, your sadness, but little did you know from now on.

You’d hate his guts.

HEY GUYS! Honestly did not expect for this to blow up, thanks so much for the kind words! ALREADY CLOSE TO 600 FOLLOWERS? It’s literally been two days you guys are crazy!! I wanted to make sure that I got this done by today, even though this literally took me forever to complete.

I have so much on the way, trying out a different format for my theme. Hope you guys take notice in it. Till then!

— 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐥𝐲𝐢𝐢𝐝𝐚 ❤︎︎

❥ : @skeletonblush @smolbeanzzz @gold24fish @stablecreator93 @itgetzweird08 @xo-evangeline @akqsa-xxi @gaby-11 @suchagoodgirlxoxo @r-ans @hunny-hotline @superkittywonderland @jolynegf @sad0nion @nar00 @gingerbread-ginza @noxva08 @xaslieex

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madqueenalanna · 11 months ago

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so i'm almost done with my "terror" (show) rewatch and just finished reading "terror" (book) yesterday so let me ramble lowkey about the differences

i do love of course the little character details of the book that couldn't possibly make it into the show. sir john's devotion to his "gentleman" status to the point that he stays dead silent during sex, for one, crozier getting jacked off in a pond for another. the book's meandering pace gave us lots of ship descriptions (agonizing) but also lots of time with even minor characters (peglar for one)

and so because of their respective mediums, i like each ending/portrayal of tuunbaq in its own way. in the book, it's a spirit created by a goddess, forced to wander the frozen north and feast. silna and people like her are psychic, marry other psychics to create their own tribe, their own people. this is not to control tuunbaq but simply to communicate; they leave it offerings, it doesn't kill them. the white men have no way to understand this, and so they trespass and are murdered. crozier leaves his identity behind to join these people, loses his tongue, has children by silna, and feels the honor in this choice. tuunbaq's appearance is ephemeral, difficult to explain, almost incorporeal. it isn't a monster, it's a part of the land in the same way winter is. very spiritual

in the show of course it's much more straightforward. it's a beast that can be injured, can eventually be killed, needs to be bound to a shaman that can control it. silna cuts out her own tongue to follow in her father's footsteps, instead of having lost her tongue as a child in this psychic group. it dies, agonizingly, like so many of the polar bears it resembles, yet another victim of british colonialism. silna is ostracized by her people for its death under her watch. crozier joins the netsilik without her, assimilating culturally if not on this secondary spiritual plane. obviously this makes much more sense to see on screen

the other big change is of course the health of the men. sure they SAY in the show the men are failing, and we see some of them, but the book, agonizingly (good), details every mile they haul sledges, every symptom of scurvy, a few violent deaths from botulism, blanky losing first part of his foot, then half his leg, then several wooden legs break and he calls its quits when the stump is gangrenous. the book is so clear that this takes MONTHS, it feels like months, hickey's mutiny is almost a minor footnote because they were all already almost dead by the time it occurs. the cannibalism is such a last resort that they're all half-dead by that point. it's slow, it's painful, so it all makes more... sense, almost. you FEEL their pain, this slow horrific death, the STARVATION

that said i love the death of fitzjames in the show. he's got scurvy and dies of botulism in the book, but i think it's just scurvy in the show. we see his battle scars, obtained in a colonial venture to asia, re-open and suppurate. in a very real, literal way, his past has come to haunt him, to poison him. he dies on another colonial mission, weakened by his former expeditions eating him alive, destroyed by this land that wants them dead

and from researching this show/book i got linked by some very helpful redditors to some very long articles detailing inuit descriptions of finding hms terror before it sank, so i'm excited to dip into those

#The Terror

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minerwarfare-suzuya · 6 days ago

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😪🥱😴

I'm caught up with what's going on lol. Just been busy yesterday and barely had time to respond hours ago.

I was told that Red's video had received a report for a privacy complaint which was posted about that morning.

youtube

Following up to this is a comment made by Cagney on the video saying she made the report for Kevonica which has been posted onto the community tab of his channel.

Though this isn't the first of Cagney reaching out yesterday. Prior to this I had received messages that I didn't get to look at until making this post yesterday. Cagney made an alternative account under the same name but with an "s" included. This is the message she had left for me to read.

1. You know I would be totally fine with the fact that her socials were to be censored when criticized over minor flaws but given all things considered. She accused Red of Sexual Harassment for things that happened years ago while completely disregarding the fact she still was reaching out to him to only excuse it in her video that she forgot about his past behavior, made him and I out to be pedophiles, kept forcing her own perspective upon our own work with twisted thoughts and above all that she still proceeded to post a response video two days afterwards which totally defeats the purpose of having to remain private/unknown online especially given how she shared that video by linking it in her tweet on Twitter.

Top it off, she still has the decency to still lurk onto Red's profiles. So, she is far from moving on lol.

2. Ah yes! "I want my socials censored for privacy purposes" *proceeds to post a response video and tweets about it publicly days later*-

Yeah, how contradictory...

As for the reasons why Kev wanted her original username and current one censored. I kept it private considering how personal they were but after those two days passed and I saw how things unfolded, you can totally look past that and see it could've been done to take advantage of the situation to her convenience. Like she still made a video response and tweeted about it, it doesn't matter how she edits the video to prevent her old username being shown. She's still making herself have public attention over it for just about anyone to find her no matter the following being big or small.

Honestly, the funny thing about this is when someone in particular asked for their socials to be censored they were rejected of it. Doesn't feel nice when the shoe is on the other foot because now it’s a whole ass problem.

3. Bringing up when I showed Blurry and Zombify screenshots of what went down in the community because of how much y'all talk shit behind people's backs is wild especially given how Zombify did take offense to Victor's own remarks about them when Zombify didn't agree with Kev's attempts to give Blurry negative attention on biased opinions of his own different takes for characters he drew in his own depiction along with other things. Besides that I can see that leaking screenshots of what went on during discussion did fuck up on someone's day over a group practically doxxing Victor and attempting to harass them. Yet you guys attempted to stalk Zombify's account daily when they sided with Blurry and over speculated on their Twitter activities to harass them which you are doing the same with Red and I activities online.

Now of course, Cageny made a post on her blog to follow up with everything.

Most of the things that are said go over the mention of stuff that I just went over.

Kevonica's desire to have her name censored when Cageny reached out to me for a request on Red's video to have changes for Kev's online safety concerns from what's shown in our conversation. As previously mentioned, there are numerous contradictions regarding this issue. For instance, she uploaded a video two days after our last discussion, which, despite any editing she may have done to mitigate risks, remains a public response accessible to anyone, including Red's video. Furthermore, her Twitter post promoting her video prior to making her account private effectively draws attention to herself and her art that is publicly available for viewing which looks no different to her old work from 2017. Having a game on steam that she promotes publicly with the same art style presented in her sprites which features the same art style in her sprites, linking back to both her current and past accounts. Like if you search up the name "TheNutcrackerus" on Google, her old Instagram pops up and all her work that she's made is relevantly still on there that can link back to her current account.

https://www.instagram.com/thenutcrackeruss?igsh=MzRlODBiNWFlZA==

Search up "TheNutcrackerus" on Twitter, her "Kevonica" account can instantly be found from people responding to her account. It's not like Kevonica wants to hide from the public when there is more than a clear indication that she wants her brand name known even if she abandons the previous one. Her making the claims of wanting her social media accounts private on a video presenting criticism against her is quite contradictory.

Following up with this post is that Cagney says Red is milking the situation when it's advertisement that is no different to Kev doing the same on Twitter and Cagney admittedly says that she made the Privacy report complaints for Kevonica in her comment that I have previously shown. Red and I both looked at the timestamps and literally nothing on those time-stamps breaks YouTube guidelines for a privacy complaint.

3:00-3:50 - Literally just Kev's old profile picture from the Thenutcrackerus account transitioning to her current one.

7:07-7:14 - Kev's conversation with Mobox87 on Discord.

24:48-24:53 - A beginning of Kev and Red's conversation reuniting communication.

33:30-36:05 - The same issue as 3:00-3:50 but in reverse. Kev's current profile picture is shown and transitions to her old one from TheNutcrackerus account.

This is honestly just shutting us up at this point. No matter what context you put in. This is shutting people up from their own criticism against Kev by abusing the YouTube report system to your own convenience.

Now of course, above all that she decides to add in an unrelated topic to make a similarity out of it. That being my gaming channel being terminated and showing off tweets from Red and I made to get an appeal.

Okay first off, this should be irrelevant to the argument given how this is just you over speculating on the smallest thing to complain about and to justify an argument in your response. Two, Red made a minor error when posting that tweet without realizing to edit the screenshot of a complaint in support of trying to bring back an old gaming channel so that YouTube's automated system doesn't address that email is being shown. Three, Why the FUCK would I be worried over my email being censored or not when it's the same email anyone can see publicly from the document I've posted about Kevonica? You can literally press the three dots on my document and see my email including Red's along with the activity log of when it was opened and edited. The same shit can apply to Kev's document including the Mobox87's archive evidence folder which shows her old email that is clearly still being used to this day!

Then of course, they mentioned my NSFW being censored. Uh duh, it breaks YouTube guidelines to show NSFW plus in my document I linked Kev's document and in our folders about Kev we have her documents from when she first uploaded it and when she updated it.

Plus, the only person in "history" who reports Red for Privacy Violation is Arion (Blue's Journey) which has been stated on my pinned thread on my Twitter account, My document and both videos that Red and I made about Arion, Cagney. FUCKEN Dumbass.

youtube

Anyways, I find this situation quite amusing due to the extent to which this new argument contradicts all previous assertions presented to us. The hypocrisy is particularly evident when compared to the topics they have addressed in the past.

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oxtoxtoxto · 1 year ago

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i think i had an epiphany about pokemon black and white.

i think it was released about 5 or 6 years too early. what do i mean by that? BW came out in 2010, around a decade ago, and im going to assume it probably started full development not that long after HGSS finished up development, which would have been somewhere in 2009.

2009 was definitely a complex time, especially in Japan, but it was a *very different* time to now.

See, I think team plasma would have had a much more smooth narrative if they had incorporated the idea of *misappropriating progressive language*, and otherwise misusing certain terminology to the point of rendering it completely meaningless in its prior context.

we know the language bigots use to talk about minority groups nowadays, right? how there's pieces of language that used to serve a *very specific purpose* to refer to a *very specific kind of act* (such as grooming, a term which is now just thrown at the LGBT community whenever a bigot feels they need to drum up hate) which have now been sandblasted down into just another sneer to spit at people they hate?

and how by doing this they've tainted the usefulness *of those terms* to the point where it's genuinely impacting people's ability to report on certain things?

this was not as close of a topical issue in 2010 as it is today, where language is increasingly being weaponized due to the availability and reliance on social media our society has increasingly found itself with. this is why i think in a better world, pokemon bw would have come out in 2015, maybe even *later*, when this shit not only really began to develop into the cancerous issue it is now, but also when people began to actively speak out about it in a way that was wide-reaching.

think about a reframing here. at its core, team plasma is a pokemon welfare organization being used as a front as an elaborate way to dismantle any potential threats ghetsis might have to succeeding in a coup. ideally, this means trainers are pressured into releasing their pokemon and the ones who aren't have theirs *taken by force*, causing immense trauma to both pokemon *and* person, thereby necessarily weakening them in the process.

so, lets approach it as it might be done today. the first thing you do is you start widening the meaning of *abuse* and applying it in situations where it absolutely isn't the case, just to *force* people to legitimize a conversation that, say, owning a house pet might qualify as pokemon abuse.

you muddy the meaning of abuse until you have caused schisms in local culture. you rely on what examples of abuse you can find--neglect, power-hungry trainers who do view their pokemon mostly as instruments to increment ever-higher in ranking, but you do not turn you ire, *specifically*, on them. you turn that blame on your real targets: everyone else.

and all the while, what *abuse* or *neglect* or *mistreatment* even means when it comes to pokemon is muddled. people start reporting people for what they perceive *as* abuse even when it's not, and wasting the time of the organizations designed to look after this kind of thing, while also making anyone who reported things and got a "this wasnt abuse" feel validated that, yes, *everyone is in on it*.

with of course the occasional group of aggro anti-trainers reporting in such large numbers that the legal bodies involved have to investigate and maybe even separate pokemon and human because, well--look at all of these reports. there might be something going on.

and this snowballs. those who dont immediately bend to the pressure are targeted. they get picketed, they get people screaming at them. they have their organization decried as "abuse enablers" and with the way social media flattens nuance and these people already making sure to leave out all of the important details, many of these figures become hated by people who have been caught up in a cultural hate furor towards someone who has really been the one looking after these issues. people who are good, but are now demonized by a very vocal and aggressive group.

and then, you twist the knife, because with the eradication of all meaning to terms like *abuse*, you also make it a lot easier for abusive trainers to get away with what they're doing so long as they just pay the correct kind of lip service. just look at ghetsis: he has a hydreigon that genuinely seems to fucking hate him, judging by its frustration. abuse doesnt actually *get reduced*, because the words have been muddled so much the kind of clues and hints that might help a pokemon abuser get caught and put away are lost in the endless froth of vitriol.

abusers dont get hurt by this so long as they know how to phrase it.

and when you add in that the people who would actually be handling cases of abuse and mistreatment being either demonized, bent to the will of an angry mob, or too terrified to speak out, real abuse goes untouched.

people, *figureheads* of the movement, become untouchable because they crusade for the campaign with the right combination of words that *surely* they're not using this as a smoke screen to cover for their own goals.

this, this right here? i think people have always been aware of how language can be shaped like this, but genuinely the last 5 to 8 years have been the absolute worst of it, and most obviously criticized. if BW came out during this period, and used this as a touchstone rather than the absolute stance it does, it could have been a much more nuanced and compelling narrative.

the point is, though, Pokemon BW could have come out in the late 2010s and probably had a much stronger real-life example to build on and work with. The conversations we are having today are eminently relatable to Team Plasma's goal, it's just *too early* to have that connection.

It also would have permitted some nuance within the narrative. As it stands right now, the Pokemon universe simply rejects the idea that mistreatment of Pokemon is a realistic idea in the first place. Even among some of the darkest, and arguably the most likely teams to abuse their Pokemon (Galactic and Rocket) mainly view their Pokemon as integral sources of power that they must nourish and improve for their own benefit. It's not a purely benevolent reason, no, but Cyrus has a Crowbat (only evolves with high friendship) and while some of it is anime apocrypha, virtually *nothing* implies that Giovanni mistreated his Pokemon, and that Team Rocket mainly mistreated Pokemon via stealing them in the first place or by attempting get rich quick schemes (slowpoke tails).

In other words, the only group that has been shown to actively and aggressively *abuse pokemon* is team plasma itself, where in one of their first appearances two grunts, claiming to want to protect Pokemon, repeatedly kick a fucking Munna not ten feet away from you.

These would be the leaders, the problems, the actual criminals stringing the others along who have been caught up in the momentum of finally having someone to just *hate*.

This would let the story also progress as you work your way up from the grunts (who may fall anywhere on the scale between shitheel or ideological warrior consumed by the movement) to the admins (who are all eerily powerful, well-connected, and giving away hints that their Pokemon are mistreated, its just that they have the language and reputation to avoid scrutiny) and finally to Ghetsis, who is the embodiment of these leaders in the worst way possible. Part of the story, then, would be figuring out where N falls, if what he's saying is just lip service or the truth, and it would make his struggle to reconcile the world Ghetsis has painted for him (one of casual Pokemon cruelty and Pokemon forced into subservient roles to do as humans wish) against the one he faces (one where Pokemon and humans work together--not always perfectly, but with a lot of care) and the slowly dawning realization that everything he's been told is a projection of how Ghetsis and his admins actually feel about Pokemon a lot more meaningful.

You could even include hints. Admins putting their Pokemon away whenever N is around, almost in a panic because if N got a single chance to speak to any of their Pokemon, the entire plot would go up in smoke.

N not knowing about certain operations or being intentionally redirected to you to keep him occupied as Ghetsis and his admins are finally allowed to throw their weight around.

By making it much more reflective of trends we know about today, you could get a fair bit more intense narrative about deceit and the real fucked up consequences of this kind of thing.

#pokemon #pokemon black and white #ramble #this is almost wholesale copy-pasted from a discord conversation #just wanted to preserve it for posterity #oxto ramble

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sparrow-in-boots · 2 years ago

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okay so, I'm going to get to Lucy Stillman and the franchise's treatment of her, but i think I need to explain my own feelings about the portrayal of the modern brotherhood first. I do not buy the "brotherhood = conspiracy theory cult" angle. It's flawed and leads to terrible takes overall, by the lore and by the fandom.

It's a holdover from the fact that the game decides to run with conspiracy theories that we have in the real world, and assign them all to the Isu. they even poke fun of it in the earlier games with the whole lizard people and space wizards in tinfoil hats comments. now that's a whole can of worms in itself given how deeply racist and antisemitic the overwhelming majority of conspriacy theories are, but it's not a good way to portray the assassin brotherhood because that's not what they are. they are far leftists. they are anarchist cells, they are commune organizers, they are revolutionaries. that's not me saying it either, that's just canon, plain and simple.

but that would make the story too close to real-life politics and they can't do that cus it's not in their interests.

therefore, the brotherhood is coded as isolationist cultists, or at least as far as The Farm goes. in current year, i think we can all agree there's an inherent fallacy (if not outright disengenuous portrayal) of painting your leftist organization fighting against the capitalist neocolonial hegemony with the same strokes as the whacky people starting communes in the middle of nowhere to escape 5G towers, fluoride water and the [insert villanized minority group here].

i don't buy it, i don't appreciate it, and i think we could have had a stronger story without it, even regarding Desmond's backstory.

THAT SAID, let's take a look at Lucy. her's is the story of a girl who was forced into adulthood too early after being left to her own devices by a very sheltered and isolating community that failed her, and then inducted into a cult which ultimately killed her and then was promptly swept under the narrative. that cult is the templar order by the by.

Lucy was born and raised within the Brotherhood, and pretty much set lose on the world with no connectiosn to speak of. surely they must have given her a paper trail, fake parents and school enrollments, medical records, the works. she was told to infiltrate Abstergo and probably given a general path towards that, namely research that could be useful to them, but otherwise? she was on her own.

first thing that comes to mind is when Amish folks get their time away from their hometown to experience the world and choose to come back or not. i can't comment on their experience and general view on this so i won't attempt to draw a parallel here, but just that initial mental connection speaks for itself imo.

She speaks of having to wait tables to make ends meet, and while that's the socially expected experience of solo living for a young adult leaving home (work minimun wage jobs, go to college, climb the chain, start small, etc), she has no home to return to. In fact there's this looming tension that even opening up to missing her home or going into detail about it could blow her cover. Even in the privacy of being around friends and colleagues, there's this necessity of keeping up a front. She has to buy it so deeply it becomes her, inside and out, and doing that at such a formative age is bound to take it's toll.

You're removed from everything and everyone you've ever known. You don't know when or if you'll ever see them again. In fact they can die at any moment and you might never hear about it. Contact with them is a fraught and dangerous thing, and even the slightest slip could spell your doom and theirs. Connection is a constant swinging sword of Damocles over her, and who can take comfort and solace from community like that? No one, is who. So of course she'd seek that away from where she could endanger everyone.

So in comes Vidic. She knows he's a templar, of course she does, but he's kind and understanding, a bit frustrating and headstrong, but she can usually talk him into chilling out here and there. And of course, one can draw a parallel between him and Bill. Both are strict and charismatic (in their own way) father and mentor figures, but while Bill is cold and hard, Vidic feigns affection (as Haytham so eloquently put) and the worst part is, it works. Any affection and attention is good attention for the starved, and Lucy's been on the end of her ropes since she's been outside of the Brotherhood.

She knows and can see it's all manipulation, she's not that blind of course, but it chips away at her. That's what emotional manipulation does after all. And then, in come the agents to kill her, and Vidic stops them.

All her life she's heard how brutal and merciless the templars are, and surely she's seen it too while working under them, but right when her facade slips and she should be dead, she's not. Because Vidic spares her. Of course that leaves a deep impression on her, and further erodes her resolve. Slowly but surely, she opens up, and Vidic is an expert at what he does. She may hold quite a bit of guilt and shame at turning, but the templars were there when the brotherhood wasn't.

Bill says that of those they send to infiltrate the templars, they are either "too strong" and can't keep up the charade, or are "too weak" and turn. How is being a human being who needs connection and community "too weak"? How is being slowly lovebombed and manipulated into choosing the wire mother and then being foresaken the plush one when in need weakness?

Desmond says that she "seemed so sincere, like she really wanted to make a difference", and I truly believe she did. Her morals and belief were twisted through years of emotional torture and isolation, and she knew she couldn't return to the brotherhood after how far she caved under the pressure. There's no space for the nuances and endless gray areas of such an unbalanced war in the current brotherhood, and she knows it, so throwing in with the templars for her was the lesser evil. She's not fool enough to buy their propaganda wholesale, but it's a necessary concession in her mind so she can excuse her taking advantage of their attention and community. Again, as long as she's useful to them, she has a place among them.

However, the way she's treated by the narrative is... w o w. We never get the chance to hear it from her side, expect by a pathetically short email on the ACR dlc. While having the protagonists agonize over someone's beliefs after their passing and finding no solid answers, they really don't spend nearly enough time for that to carry much weight narratively. In fact, there's hardly much of a critique on the conditions that led her to that kind of fall from grace, and even less is done to fix it.

She, much like Clay, are the epitomes of how the brotherhood is mirroring too much the templar's and Juno's disregard for human life, and how that needs to change in order for them to turn the tides. But nothing comes of it, because our anchor to the modern timeline gets doomed by the narrative and now all those loose plot holes go nowhere. Her funeral, her burial, her memory, it all gets waved about like an annoying gnat on the dinner table, and nobody does anything but try their best to ignore it until it goes away. Her actress couldn't keep with their schedule, so they got rid of her in the most pathetic horrifyingly dismissive way possible.

Personally I'm not a fan of the templar turncoat plotline they gave her, but if that's what they wanted to go with, then it needed much MUCH more careful writing and it needed to fucking GO SOMEWHERE. But it doesn't. And it sucks.

#assassin's creed #lucy stillman #pardal rambles #ac meta

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fate-magical-girls · 9 months ago

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I usually don't make highly personal opinionated rambles about comics, but seeing some of the Krakoa retrospectives on my timeline made me want to say this.

Krakoa was a highly creative direction for the X-men. It removed them from the superhero genre and set them off on a morally ambiguous, and as some would say corrupt and fundamentally flawed journey toward nation-building. The Krakoan era was extremely messy and Krakoa was neither complete utopia nor complete dystopia. It was empowering, it was horrifying. The X-men were finally allowed to enjoy their lives; the X-men committed atrocities. In this way, it was an extremely realistic way of examining how nations are founded and managed.

Everyone is, of course, entitled to their own opinions. However, just from my personal perceptions, I think only someone who's both extremely secure in their national identity, as well as someone who is part of the majority while also being dissatisfied by how their own group holds all the power, can say Fall of X and the abandonment of Krakoa is a good thing. Basically, they criticize Krakoa because they have the privilege of criticizing the concept of nation-states, having never lacked for a community. For everyone who has struggled with their identity and looked for a group, even if they aren't part of a community with collective trauma, Krakoa is extremely empowering. For the first time Marvel's biggest minority allegory had an identity, a community, and also took pride in it to the point of being movers and shakers on the global stage. So how is it not a tragedy that they've now lost their nation? It might appeal to the classic superhero fans, but it also feels like Marvel is offering only one model for how to be a minority. That is, minorities will be judged by the oppression forced on them, not the richness of their culture or what they can achieve.

I say this as an Asian-American, the child of immigrant parents. I say this as a history major. I say this as just one fan trying to summarize my perception of my favorite comics.

#x men #krakoa

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somebodytolove31 · 1 year ago

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Midsommar is not a "good for her" movie, but it's understandable that people think that

Content warnings for: cult stuff, discussions of heavy topics such as rape, suicide and grooming, a lot of gaslighting

So I watched Midsommar recently, it's good, it has it's flaws (which I will talk about in a later post probably) but it's a solid 8/10 for me

One of the first things I do when I watch a movie is see what the internet thinks about it. I enjoy seeing the reviews of other people and funny memes and whatever else I can find. So imagine my surprise when I found out that people think Midsommar is a "good for her" movie

And like, no???

For those who aren't aware, a "good for her" movie is, as the term implies, a movie with a woman protagonist that makes you go "good for her" when it finishes, think for example of Knives Out, usually movies like these involve the protagonist in question cheating the system to get what they want, even if it's done on a morally (or legally) gray way. People classify Midsommar as a "good for her" movie because of the ending, in which the main character burns down her shitty boyfriend inside a bear

If you haven't watched the movie you may probably think "oh wow, well that's a good ending right?", and out of context, yes, in context however? this action is the representation of her leaving her life behind and joining a murder cult

From that fact you now may think "well how the fuck do people think that's a good ending?", but here's the thing, Midsommar does a great job at deceiving the audience into thinking the cult is not that bad, and the main way of doing this is through the main character we talked about, Dani.

At the start of the movie, Dani is in one of the lowest points of her life, her family has just died because of her sister’s suicide, she is in a shitty relationship, and it is implied that she has mental health issues of her own. Through the course of the movie however, she is helped by the cult, they offer her a “peaceful” place to be in while she grieves, she is often complimented, and they even burn down her abusive boyfriend by the end. From her perspective, this place has done nothing but help her, even if it’s done in non-traditional ways.

Except they don’t. Everything they do is simply a way to brainwash her into becoming a part of their community and use her. The cult still murdered 5 innocent people, they still forced Dani’s boyfriend to "mate" with a minor, they still make people kill themselves when they turn 72, they still inbreed, they still drug you without consent.

If this movie was played out through the point of view of anyone else, it would be seen as a horrifying tale of a death cult tricking a friend into becoming one of them, but it’s because of the emotional position Dani is in that we see them as saviors.

Even I was brainwashed by them in one scene, the one where Dani sees her boyfriend "cheating" on her and has a panic attack (a link for those who haven't seen the movie and are curious). Panic attacks are something I suffer from often, it’s gotten better with therapy, but it’s still horrible when I experience it, so when I saw the women of the cult gather around Dani, caressing her and screaming with her, my first thought was “wow, I wish I had a group like that, people that would scream with me when I’m feeling horrible”, it wasn’t until I really thought about the scene later on that I realized, wait, that scene wasn’t good! they are not helping her, they are just acting as if they know her pain, they are simply shifting Dani’s hopelessness to anger even though they're the ones that caused the hopelessness in the first place

This is a tactic not only used by cults, but by many people who want to indoctrinate you, as a simple example, think of all of those alpha male channels that play into the insecurities of men to tell them that women are the problem.

This is why people think the ending is a happy ending, their fear is shifted to anger, and they feel relieved when Chris is burned, just as the cult did with Dani

TL,DR: no one is immune to propaganda, so be on the look out for ways people might want to indoctrinate you

#midsommar #media analysis #movie analysis #you're not immune to propaganda #good for her #good for her movie

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barkbarkboy · 5 months ago

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uh so i wanted to analyze boy division a million years ago..... i saved the lyrics but i never actually finished it. oh well. heres my queer/trans focused analysis of all the lines i can draw meaning from. its so layered!!!!! like i swear i'm gonna lose my mind this song is so good. u don't even know. CW: i talk about death transphobia and rape culture a little bit. no graphic details but yeah

If all my enemies threw a party, would you light the candles? / Would you drink the wine while watching television? / Watch the animals and all the tragedies if all my enemies (bigoted people) "threw a party" - as in celebrate or make fun of any form of minorities (with the queer/trans community as a heavy focus in this song), or some tragedy affecting those groups, would you join in? would you support them? or would you be on the side of letting people do what makes them feel happy and free and let them be themselves (such as being openly gay/trans despite the bigotry you face) Sell your arteries and buy my casket gown / (Well) It better be black, (Well) it better be tight, (Well) It better be just my size i'm not sure what "sell your arteries" means, but like, could be alluding to selling your soul for shitty beliefs and friends, or selling your heart since your arteries are part of the circulatory system. this choice is possibly sacrificing those minorities' lives in the process due to these shitty, ignorant people learning and perpetuating bigoted beliefs from these other shitty, ignorant people. the writer calls out these people for this and thus placing them (and the queer community as a whole) on death's doorstep before they are forced to confront their own internalized trans/homophobia. the writer asks why these lines must be drawn and why these lines, like the cuts of the gown they wish to wear when they die, shouldn't be cut to fit all people and not just one arbitrary gender. they're demanding it be cut just for them, and thus the label of "queer" to fit more people, not to build a new box, but to get rid of the box entirely, and let those people speak for their experience themselves.

I'm not asking, you're not telling / He's not dead, he only looks that way i'm not asking, you're not telling is clearly a nod to the phrase don't ask don't tell, about queer soldiers. in the "story" of the song it may allude to a phase in the writer's life where they pretended to not be gay to blend in and by proxy survive. this masking causes damage however, it makes them look dead, ether because that was their look at the time, or because they are mega depressed and feel unable to be themselves, so of course they're not going to be enthusiastic about life and look "dead". and the average person doesn't notice this, they just excuse it as being mentally ill, because being queer is not the norm and its not normalized enough in society.

I buy my enemies rope to hang me and the knives to gang me / You can watch them stab me on your television the writer wishes to intentionally provoke people, hoping they change people's minds, and risk their life in the process. so many queer killings go on day by day and some of them don't even make news. the writer is calling out that these bigoted people are purely ignorant to how this affects the community and thus telling it to them straight: queer killings still happen and they're awful. this community is vulnerable and needs protection. Stalk the halls because the bathroom walls / Would have a lot to say about the lines you're putting down this line? fucking GENIUS. where do i even start. first of all, bathroom debate? waaayyy before that was even a topic of discussion for mainstream audiences? they fucking saw the future ok. divine fucking visions. not only this but i think this line alludes to the fact that there are bathrooms at your home, and there are public bathrooms. for history reasons, public bathrooms are gender segregated. its considered taboo to use bathrooms that arent aligned with your agab, even though its a mostly private experience where no one has to see any of that shit. on the other hand, your at-home bathroom? not gender segregated. theres a million arguments about why public gender segregated bathrooms should continue to exist but the majority of them are rooted in patriarchy, misandry, and rape culture. the last thing is, a rumor about public bathrooms.... sometimes gay shit goes down in there. sometimes straight shit goes down in there! basically, if the bathroom walls could talk, they would say they see a lot of shit go down, and its happening behind closed doors whether you like it or not, and trans people just want to fucking piss. so leave them the hell alone and let them piss in peace! another point is "the lines you're putting down", as in, the line between the "male and female" sex and the "man and woman" gender is a lot more blurry than mainstream society thinks. someone will see someone masc presenting and automatically call them he pronouns for example, even though that person might be a she and just dressing comfortably. this gatekeeps people who don't pass well from using bathrooms at all, because they're afraid of getting hate crimed in there or because they just don't know/can't find the space that fits them.

(Well) It better be white, (Well) it better be cut (Well) It better be just my size now we've had a black line drawn, and this is the white line, alluding to black and white thinking, which is how a lot of people view being cis and perisex. however, you can be perisex and still have features that confuse you for another gender. the box is not fitting, and it never will fit the entire world's population of men, women, or enbies no matter how cis/perisex they may be. the writer demands the same thing of the lines being drawn as he asked for the black casket gown, that it fits everyone on the planet, and not just one specific kind of queer person. Until my capillaries burst of boredom / I'll be waiting this line of thinking is obvious to the writer, but its not obvious to everyone, especially mainstream society. they're willing to wait for the future, when one day all of this is normalized, and they and other queer people around the globe don't have to be afraid to be themselves anymore. the wait is frustrating and long, but they're pushing through to the end, hoping for a better, more safe future. I'm not laughing, you're not joking / I'm not dead, I only dress that way how often have you been here? someone made an off-color joke, and you just can't laugh because its not fucking funny? its just offensive? genius. i also like adding "you're not joking" because its so fucking true. people who say stuff like this and then pass it off as a joke when you get mad usually are trying to dogwhistle or seem chill/aloof by acting nonchalant about hate speech. furthermore, it seems the writer is embracing the way they dress now at least, and making it their own. theres also this idea of looking pretty when you're dead, so if you dress like you are dead 24/7, and you feel good about it and feel like you look pretty, you know how good you'll look when/if that time comes, which we know the writer has on their mind bc they know queer people die all the time and get hate crimed all the damn time. Wherever you are, wherever you are / Whoever you are, whoever you are 'Cause we got the bomb, we got the bomb, let's go / We got the bomb, we got the bomb, let's go / We got the bomb, we got the bomb, let's go / We got the bomb, we got the bomb, let's go We got the bomb / We got the bomb / We got the bomb / We got the bomb i think this is a rallying cry for all the queer community, whoever and wherever they are, to keep fighting. i think this information, which mainstream society has yet to understand, is compared to a bomb, because its going to blow the whole structure apart before putting it back together, hopefully in a healthier, safer, and more inclusive way.

#x #uh i love the division of boys could you tell #such a slap in the face to transphobes i fuckign love it #lyrical analysis

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hazelhavoc · 9 months ago

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Hello! I'm Hazel, and I have a lot of OC's!

This is for DC and Marvel!

(Particularly, for Mutants/X-Men in Marvel's case.)

I have some OC's (that I may add to in the future).

If you'd like to roleplay with me then you can message me. But first-

Some ground rules!

- I only do literate, no * or stuff like that (I'll write an example).

- I'd prefer it to be on Discord.

- I only write as my OC's. I feel very comfortable with them. You can be just canon characters if you'd like, I don't mind. If there are lots (like battles was stuff) in a scene, I'll do my best to help you. (I would prefer if you'd be a canon character though.)

- This is going to be a one-on-one roleplay. No groups, it's too chaotic for me and I'd get too overwhelmed otherwise.

- You have to be at least 18+ age range.

- No minors, because I will be doing dark themes, NSFW, and the like. And no, I will not make exceptions. (Please don't lie to me about your age, that's just fucked up and I'll immediately block you if you do.)

- You have to have canon knowledge of what we'll be roleplaying (that would be obvious lmao.)

- You have to put in just as much effort as me. It's frustrating when I come back to a two liner reply. Especially since I write A LOT. It would just discourage me. 50/50 is preferred. Don't force yourself to write if you don't want to (have health issues, feeling down in the dumps, ect. Please tell me if something is wrong of course.)

- If you have OC's, that's alright too. Just ask me before you randomly throw them in. I'll be showing you my OC's in advance before we start writing. Just know that I do still want you to control a canon character.

- COMMUNICATION IS KEY. Don't be afraid to ask questions. Don't be afraid of me either, haha. I just have to be firm. I don't mind talking outside of the roleplay too. It's always nice to make friends!

- And please don't ghost me, several people have done that and it just hurts. Tell me if you're going to be gone for a while, or if you want to change the rp, or you just need a break.

~•••~

What comics am I most comfortable/familiar with? No particular order!

Anything to do with (Comics and Animated mostly) Batman, Superman, Red Hood, Nightwing, Red Robin, Batfamily in general, Firestorm, Green Lantern (Hal Jordan, Kyle Rayner), The Flash (Barry Allen, Wally West), Blue Beetle (Ted Kord), Booster Gold, The Riddler, The Atom (Ray Palmer), Green Arrow, Arsenal, Plastic Man, Superboy (Conner Kent), Deathstroke, Captain Cold, Mirror Master (Specifically from the animated movie Justice League: Doom), Deadshot, Justice League/Young Justice/Teen Titans in general...might add more.

Gambit, Cyclops, The Angel (Mutants: Mainly the comics and animated), Spiderman (Mainly the comics and animated), Daredevil (TV Show, Comics)...might add more.

Mainly for both, I can't list specific comics because that would be way too long. But I do like older works rather than some new stuff. Like the Green Lantern expanded lore about the galaxy in DC, as an example, where they bring back Hal Jordan.

Those are what I'm familiar with. If you also like these, then hit me up. We'd have to talk a bit before writing, such as your own limitations, boundaries, and the like.

Now, here's an example of my writing that involves one of my OC's.

~•••~

Valrel sighs as she crouches on the railing, arms bent on her knees as she looks down at the city lights. It's beautiful tonight, from up here at least. She'd just gotten done with a full sweep of the surrounding block two times, making sure everything is right as rain. She'd been planning this for a month, so it best work when the time was right. She'd kept track of all the potential threats, witnesses, and the people that live in this expensive apartment complex. From all walks of life, but they're all rich - particularly the ones on top. At the penthouse.

Flipping up and over the balcony railing above her, steps silent as she crouches again. The wind passes by, playing with her loose white locks as she forms water around her fingers. Flexing them, her eyes glow under her blue opaque visor - the water slips in under the crack of the locked glass door. Boom. Open. Using her other hand to slide it open, taking a step in.

She'd taken the precaution to loop the empty rooms camera for around 10 minutes. That's all she needs. Security is down around here. The residents did go on a nice vacation away from Blüdhaven, fortunate for her - not so much for them. They won't even notice anyways. Still, Valrel footsteps are silent as she makes her way through the roomy living room and to the home office, sliding in, she's quick to go to the safe and start with picking the lock with her powers. Staying alert. Nightwing might appear like he usually does. Not that she minds his presence...he's just distracting when she's doing something she deems important. Valrel huffs to herself, smirking lightly with amusement quirking her expression.

She won't say she doesn't have fun when he decides to come around.

~•••~

Of course, I'll write way more than that lol.

Maybe I'll add more to this post if I think of more. :]

See ya, feel free to message me if you're interested.

#literate roleplay #roleplay #oc roleplay #dc comics #dc universe #dc animated universe #dc roleplay #dc rp #marvel #marvel comics #marvel x men #marvel rp #marvel roleplay #original characters #dc original character #marvel original character #original rp #oc rp #i just wanna write

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metropolitianmania · 10 months ago

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Okay so…Did anyone ever read a history book? Or ever get to learn what empathy is? Because these tags/reblogs on this post are HORRENDOUS and dumb.

Before I say anything: I want to clarify I am a Mexican + Salvadoran American, Nonbinary and nblm, and I probably have DID. Meaning, I do have experience in a lot of different communities! I’m speaking as someone who has seen this first hand and am actually taking courses in college on this. Moving on…

A big part of what irked me about these particular reblogs is the ‘reminder’ that white girls wouldn’t need to add on minority identities to have an opinion - because that’s based upon the idea that people who scream the loudest about being marginalized are NOT the white girls with minority identities themselves!

As I said on that post, white people are STILL the poster children of most other marginalized groups besides race. Y’all only have it worse than other white people. Marginalized groups that aren’t predominantly known to affect white people are deemed UNSAFE and DISGUSTING (such as single mothers, addiction, and other ‘stereotypical poc’ issues) UNLESS lo and behold, there’s a white woman or man dealing with that issue. You will always get help first.

Mental Illness Awareness online is predominantly White and AMAB.

LGBTQ Spaces are predominantly White.

Disability safe spaces are predominantly White.

And there’s nothing WRONG with being white and having minority identities. The thing is, it’s a problem y’all created for yourselves that you blame people of color for. Y’all think white people need to be oppressed in some way in order for them to even be an ALLY to marginalized groups. This is white guilt at its finest. This is the idea that you’re all stuck washing away the blood off your ancestors hands- which only leads you guys to NEED to be coddled by excessive labeling to make yourselves feel like you’re even allowed to have an opinion on something. You can, the only thing is, you just need to know that

1. You are not your ancestors. Whatever they did in the past, learn from it. Even if they WERE bad people, what they did does not mean you’re ‘tainted’ forever.

2. LISTEN. You can have opinions on things that include minorities and marginalized groups, but at the end of the day, you do not have the privilege to speak OVER (as in, negate) their own experiences. And if they say something is racist - maybe it is. If they say you don’t understand completely, it’s means you…

3…. Need to check your privilege. You are always going to be white first before anything. Copying from my last post, the difference between being white and a minority vs being POC and a minority is the fact that whiteness gets to stay ambiguous (no one will demand you to clarify what ‘type of white you are) and have the luxury of being able to say “I’m nonbinary/gay/have adhd/autism/am disabled/yada yada ya.” whereas for POC, their ethnicity is their most defining characteristic, and is NOT allowed to be ambiguous.

Latinos/Hispanics (in my personal experience) are often asked by other latinos/hispanics and non-latinos/hispanics alike what ‘type of latino’ they are. It's almost as if people of color are demanded to explain who they are to white people in order for them to be relatable in this day and age. It's almost as if we have been forced to wear our ethnicities out and about, getting harassed or worse because we are not white.

If you didn’t know, racism derives from religious beliefs- certain people who looked a certain type of way were considered “unholy” and “unfit in the eyes of God”. If you had a big nose, or a certain hair texture, you were deemed ‘Not Christian enough’. They would look for any reason to deem people ‘Not Christian Enough’, or not ‘white enough’ when talking about modern day racism.

I fucking despise white people who try to use their marginalization as a way to garner sympathy and support from minorities. We understand that you are and can be oppressed too, but that doesn’t fucking get rid of your MOST DEFINING FACTOR: YOUR WHITENESS. At the end of the day, you will always be able to hide your oppression behind your whiteness. Your whiteness is your shield. It can blind you. We cannot hide behind our ethnicity. We cannot be ambiguous. That’s the harsh fucking reality.

But that’s were EDUCATION comes in! Learning about your privilege actually helps you understand people a LOT better. I don’t blame you guys at all for being uninformed. But you only become an oppressor when you’re purposefully ignorant.

Don’t do that.

YES, you can be biased towards white people, but they’ve been the majority for a LONG TIME, meaning white people cannot and will not experience racism for a very, very long time. Unfortunately because of this, a lot of POC teach their children to be afraid or to hate their oppressors, and are also taught to cater to the majority’s gaze. This is where that whole “evil majority” shit comes from - and funnily enough (and again), is a term that y’all came up for yourselves.

We have our own issues inside our own communities (not to discredit anything that happens for white communities) that we really don’t need white input on too. Just felt like I needed y’all to hear that. If you really think we POC are curating an intricate way to discredit/discriminate against White people, perhaps those places that you feel left out in ARE NOT places for you at all! Think of it as a bathroom- do you really think a lock on the bathroom door means you’re not allowed to use it ever or does it mean when it’s unlocked and open, you’re free to use it?

TL;DR: White people whining about not having a voice is ironic because they’re the ones creating these barriers for themselves.

#•dodgetalks #•dodgerants #race #racism #the white audacity #white guilt #white bitches when their whiteness will always come first and foremost

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weyrwolfen · 1 year ago

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Lazarus - Star Wars: TCW/BB one-shot

It's nearly Halloween, I'm in the mood for something creepy, and I've been struggling with the next chapter of Eidola. So today I sat down and wrote this instead. Enjoy.

Echo was cold.

Rex dismissed it at first, far more concerned with getting his little brother unplugged from the Skakoans’ technological horror. There were mechanical ports driven into Echo's head and chest, crawling down his back. Attached to each was a cord, or maybe some kind of a tube. Rex wasn't sure what they were - electrical conduits or feeding tubes or access lines for sedatives or other drugs. The feel of Echo's cold, grayish skin was the least of Rex’s worries as he helped his brother stagger most of the way to his feet to lean against the control terminal.

There were clankers in the outer hallway, enough to give even the general difficulty if they managed to breach the door. Tech was typing furiously at the terminal, slicing into the programming which was hijacking Echo’s mind. Hunter and Crosshair were sealing them all inside with the plasma settings on their multitools. None of them knew if there was an alternate way out of the room, or if they were going to have to let Wrecker get creative with his explosives and hope for the best.

Force, at least Echo was alive. they could deal with anything else later.

Of course Echo was cold. He'd been vivisected, spliced with machinery Rex couldn't begin to parse out at the moment, and then sealed up in a coffin of a cryo-stasis chamber for Force knew how long. Months, at least.

"There, got it," Tech said, his rapid-fire typing on the terminal ending abruptly. "You can unplug him now."

Thank kriff.

The rest of their escape was just about normal, for a typical 501st clusterkriff. Sneaking out through ductwork, leaping, sans jetpack, from a guaranteed lethal height onto the backs of a group of flying reptiles, and fighting a whole host of clankers, alongside a group of locals with whom they could barely communicate. Just another Taungsday in the G.A.R.

Echo had collapsed, just about the same time the modified omicron-class attack shuttle transitioned into hyperspace. It was a minor miracle it hadn’t happened earlier. It had been obvious to all of them that he’d been running on nothing but adrenaline and pride there by the end.

Rex had gotten his brother settled in one of the shuttle’s bunks, Tech’s, if the scattered circuitry and assorted detritus were any indication. The others had stayed outside, either in the passenger compartment or the cockpit. It was quiet, or at least as quiet as a spaceship ever got. Echo’s shallow, rasping breaths sounded unnaturally loud against the droning hum of the ion engine.

He didn’t sound healthy, but he was breathing, so Rex counted that as a win.

Rex found a minimally cluttered spot against the bulkhead and let himself sink down onto the floor. He could feel himself crashing in the wake of his own adrenaline high. Relief and guilt tore through him by turns. Echo hadn’t died at the Citadel. Echo had been abandoned, handed over for torture and worse. Echo was here, now, and Rex had given the orders which had led to all three of those things.

Rex was so, so tired.

He pulled off his helmet and set it aside, unfastening his gauntlets and dropping them, as well as his gloves, into his upturned bucket. Here, in the semi-privacy of the ship’s cluttered bunk room, he could let his hand shake a little as he rubbed his face. No one was here to see. No one would hear, if his breath went a little unsteady. He let his head tip back and rest against the wall and shut his eyes, listening to the sounds of the ship. The thrum of the engines. Someone’s voice, probably Wrecker’s, muted and incomprehensible through the walls. Echo’s breathing.

Echo’s breathing?

Rex’s eyes snapped open again, landing on his brother.

Echo lay exactly where Rex had placed him, too pale and too thin with too many sharp metal angles to fully hide under the bunk’s thin blanket. He didn’t move. His eyes didn’t twitch under his eyelids.

His chest didn’t rise or fall.

No.

Rex scrambled across the floor. Echo wasn’t… They’d gotten to him in time. They’d saved him. He couldn’t be…

Rex’s hands landed on Echo’s shoulders, ready to shake him. Ready to check for a pulse. Something. Echo’s skin was cold. As cold as it had been fresh out of the cryo tank. Cold as the dead, and Rex would know. He’d held enough of his brothers as they’d died.

No.

Unnaturally pale eyes flew open. Echo gasped in a breath, expression momentarily wild and disoriented. Panicked.

Rex could relate.

“Rex?” Echo said, confused but breathing. Still breathing, but shallowly.

“Nothing,” Rex said, letting Echo go. “I just…” He trailed off, not wanting to finish that thought out loud. It was crazy.

No crazier than thinking Echo was still alive. Rex had been there. He’d seen the explosion. He’d seen the pieces. Clones didn’t leave their brothers behind, but at the time, Rex had been certain. No one could survive that.

“Just get some rest,” Rex said gruffly, pulling the blanket up a little further over Echo’s bony, pallid shoulders.

Echo was cold.

#star wars fanfiction #tcw fanfic #clone wars fanfiction reference #the clone wars fanfiction #captain rex #arc trooper echo #echo is going through some shit #so is rex #Lazarus tcw fanfic

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remove-the-veil · 29 days ago

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The State-Sanctioned Persecution of Baha'is in Iran

Or, why Iran was not some kind of human rights paradise even before the Revolution

Recently, I encountered some discussion regarding images of Iranian women prior to the Revolution that are commonly shown in feminist circles to demonstrate how easily women's rights can be taken away by oppressive governments. The post was mainly about how showing images of 'liberated' women in pre-Revolution Iran (dressed either in miniskirts or western-style business suits) was not neccessarily an accurate representation of the majority of women in Iran at that time, and that it also carries different connotations for Iranians due to representing the Westernisation that accompanied US/UK interventionism in Iran during that era. A comment was made that before 1953, Iran had a democratically elected leader, and if there hadn't been a US- backed coup, the subsequent reactionary 1979 Revolution might not have happened, which is certainly a pertinent point.

That being said, as someone from an Iranian Baha'i background, I feel the need to comment on the Western/American assumption that pre-Revolution Iran was ever some kind of paradise for women and other minority groups in the first place. The interventionism certainly did not help and sometimes made things even worse, but it is absolutely not the sole cause or origin of oppression, discrimination, and human rights abuses in Iranian society. And just because Iran was an democracy at one point doesn't mean that everything was perfect and that everyone within that society was safe and protected:

The Iranian constitution that was drafted during the Iranian Constitutional Revolution in 1906 set the groundwork for the institutionalized persecution of Baháʼís. While the constitution was modelled on Belgium's 1831 constitution, the provisions guaranteeing freedom of worship were omitted. Subsequent legislation provided some recognition to Zoroastrians, Jews and Christians as equal citizens under state law, but it did not guarantee freedom of religion and "gave unprecedented institutional powers to the clerical establishment."

After all, the religious leaders still held great sway and were keen to exert their power whenever possible. And yes, Iranian people still followed them. 'Not all Iranians' of course, but enough. Honour killings still happened. People suspected of homosexuality could still be stoned to death in towns and villages. Mob violence could still be instigated at turns by the government and/or by the Islamic clerics against the religious minority group that has been their favourite scapegoat since the Qajar Dynasty...aka, the Baha'is. (Back in the Qajar era, at least 20,000 were killed by the Shah.) Baha'i women in particular faced (and still face) persecution on two fronts: religious persecution for being Baha'is, and of course, oppression as women. During the 1950s, there was a state-sanctioned campaign to terrorise the Baha'i community:

[The] approved and coordinated the anti-Baháʼí campaign to incite public passion against the Baháʼís started in 1955 and included the spreading of anti-Baháʼí propaganda in national radio stations and official newspapers.

During the month of Ramadan in 1955, Sheikh Mohammad Taqi Falsafi, a populist preacher, started one of the highest-profile anti-Baháʼí propaganda schemes. After receiving permission from the Shah to state anti-Baháʼí rhetoric in his sermons, he encouraged other clergy to discuss the Baháʼí issue in their sermons. These sermons caused mob violence against Baháʼís; Baháʼí properties were destroyed, Baháʼí centres were looted, Baháʼí cemeteries desecrated, Baháʼís were killed, some hacked to pieces, Baháʼí women were abducted and forced to marry Muslims, and Baháʼís were expelled and dismissed from schools and employment.

[As a personal sidenote, my father was a child at this time and has many terrifying stories of his family having to move from town to escape mob violence. He once had to save his little brother from being beaten to death by a mob of fellow children in their village who had been incited to hate Baha'is and to kill them on sight.]

All of this is not to deny that persecution of Baha'is intensified and became much worse after the Revolution. It absolutely did. Over 200 Baha'is were killed in the aftermath, and many more were driven out of Iran, either physically forced to flee or forced to the fringes of society due to severen and relentless persecution. (Persecution which is still happening to this day.) I just personally find it difficult to see retroactive Western romanticisation of Iranian government or society during the pre-Revolution era, due to my own personal background and family history. I grew up with stories of the brutality of the Shahs and Mullahs dating back to the mid-1800s, and personally knowing many people who fled Iran, both before and after the Revolution....my family members included. There is no 'golden era' to go back to, from my perspective. Only the faintest glimmers of hope for a possible future in which all Iranians can live free from state-sanctioned religious oppression and persecution.

For further background on this subject, see below:

From the wiki article on Baháʼí Faith in Iran

Since its inception the Baháʼí Faith has promoted democratically elected councils; the promotion of modern education as a priority within families (with emphasis on female education) and specific encouragement of women's equality with men. Iranian Baháʼís have created schools, agricultural cooperatives, and medical clinics across the country for themselves and others. Iran is also where the greatest persecution of Baháʼís has taken place—including the denial of education, arbitrary arrest, and killing. Iran's long history of state-sponsored persecution against Bábís and Baháʼís is well documented. The website "Archives of Baháʼí Persecution in Iran" has compiled thousands of documents, reports, testimonials, photos, and videos revealing proof of efforts to suppress and eliminate Baháʼís, particularly since the Iranian revolution of 1979.

From the wiki article on Persecution of Baháʼís

The Baháʼí Faith was established in 1863 by Baháʼu'lláh in Qajar Persia. Eighty-nine percent of Iranians adhere to the Twelver branch of Shiʻa Islam, which holds as a core doctrine the expected advent of a messianic figure known as the Qa'im or as the Imam Mahdi. The Báb claimed he was the Imam Mahdi and thus he had equal status to Muhammad with the power, which he exercised, to abrogate the final provisions of Islamic law. Baháʼu'lláh, a Bábí who claimed to be the one foretold by the Báb, claimed a similar station for himself in 1863 as a Manifestation of God and as the promised figure foretold in the sacred scriptures of the major religious traditions of the past and founded what later came to be known as the Baháʼí Faith. Concerning the historical context of the persecutions, Friedrich W. Affolter in "War Crimes, Genocide, & Crimes against Humanity" writes:

"Baháʼu'lláh's writings deal with a variety of themes that challenge long-cherished doctrines of Shí'i Islam. In addition to making the 'heretic'[sic] claim of being a 'Manifestation of God,' he suggested that school curricula should include 'Western Sciences,' that the nation states (Muslim and non-Muslim) should establish a world federal government, and that men and women were equal. Baháʼu'lláh also wrote that in this time and age, priests were no longer necessary for religious guidance. Humanity, he argued, had reached an age of maturity where it was incumbent upon every individual to search for God and truth independently. These principles did not only call into question the need for a priesthood, but also the entire Shí'i ecclesiastical structure and the vast system of endowments, benefices and fees that sustained it. No surprise then that in the following decades until the overthrow of the Qájár dynasty in 1925, it was the mullas who instigated attacks against the Baháʼís in cities or villages where the clerical establishment was particularly influential."

From the wiki article on Táhirih, THE great 'Remover of Veils' herself. An influential poet, women's rights activist and theologian of the Bábí faith (precursor to the Baha'i Faith) in Iran:

Táhirih was probably best remembered for unveiling herself in an assemblage of men during the Conference of Badasht. The unveiling caused much controversy, but Báha'u'lláh named her Tahirih "the Pure One" at that same Conference. After the historic Conference of Badasht, a number of those who attended were so amazed at the fearlessness and outspoken language of that heroine, that they felt it their duty to acquaint the Báb with the character of her startling and unprecedented behaviour. They strove to tarnish the purity of her name. To their accusations the Bab replied: "What am I to say regarding her whom the Tongue of Power and Glory has named Tahirih [the Pure One]?" These words proved sufficient to silence those who had endeavoured to undermine her position. From that time onwards she was designated by the believers as Tahirih. The Báb continued to highly praise Táhirih and in one of his later writings equates Táhirih's station as equal to that of the seventeen other male 'Letters of the Living' combined. She was soon arrested and placed under house arrest in Tehran. In mid-1852 she was executed in secret on account of her Bábí faith and her unveiling. Before her death she declared: "You can kill me as soon as you like, but you cannot stop the emancipation of women." Since her death, Bábí and Baháʼí literature venerated her to the level of martyr, being described as "the first woman suffrage martyr". As a prominent Bábí (she was the seventeenth disciple or "Letter of the Living" of the Báb) she is highly regarded by followers of the Baháʼí Faith and Azalis and often mentioned in Baháʼí literature as an example of courage in the struggle for women's rights.