#but she burned out. she did shitty things. she really hurt people and people he cares about no less

[ghostinthelibrarywrites]

payneland + 22

Thank you for the prompt! Here's some post-canon, pre-slash Payneland:

22. “...you knew?”

CW: Referenced homophobia

They don’t talk about it, until there’s nothing to do but talk.

Charles isn’t sure how long they’ve been trapped in this iron cage; there aren’t any windows in their prison and it’s not like they need to eat or sleep. Their captors took Charles’s bag, his cricket bat, and Edwin’s notebook when they threw them in there, so there’s nothing to do to keep them occupied. There’s not even enough room for Charles to pace; the cage is barely large enough for them to both stand chest-to-chest without touching the iron bars.

So they talk, because Charles would go mental otherwise. They talk about Charles’s dad and Hell and Port Townsend and losing Niko. They reminisce about past cases. They speculate about how much Crystal and the Night Nurse are probably driving each other mad right now. And finally, when it seems there’s nothing left to talk about, they revisit the elephant that’s been hanging between them for six months now.

“I wasn’t sure if you would ever want to see me again after I told you,” Edwin says quietly, nearly a whisper. The basement is pitch dark; even though their faces are only centimeters apart, Charles can’t make out his expression.

Charles is surprised by how much that hurts. “Why wouldn’t I want to see you again?”

“Because back in my day, what I told you would have been unconscionable.”

“Well, it’s not your day anymore, is it?” Charles shakes his head. “You really thought I’d go all the way to Hell for you, then leave you on the steps?”

“Of course not. I just didn’t know if you’d want anything to do with me after we escaped.” Edwin blows out a frustrated breath. “You must understand, none of this was something to be spoken of when I was alive. It wasn’t even to be thought of. When people like me were spoken of, it was because we were the subject of scandal, condemnation, and usually criminal charges. There weren’t people like Crystal running around with flags.”

“Yeah, I get that, mate,” Charles says. Not even the happy memory of Crystal and Edwin arguing when she wanted to hang up a pride flag in the office is enough to distract him. “But I told you, didn’t I? It doesn’t matter one bit to me. It wasn’t really a surprise, to be honest.”

He knows it’s the wrong thing to say even before Edwin’s voice goes shrill with indignation. “You knew?”

“Not about you being in love with me,” Charles says quickly. “Didn’t see that one coming, trust me. But I mean, I could guess you were… not a ladies’ man.”

“Not a ladies’ man,” Edwin echoes. “How did you know”

Charles doesn’t know how to answer that, because the truth was, he just sort of… assumed. There was something about Edwin that always reminded him of Mr. Wright, the man who’d lived two doors down from him when he was a kid. He’d always seemed like a nice enough bloke, but his father sneered at him and forbade Charles from riding his bike past his house alone. It wasn’t until Charles was older that he realized that the quiet man who lived with Mr. Wright probably wasn’t just his roommate.

“I don’t know, mate,” he finally says. “Guess I just know you, don’t I?”

“Everyone always knew, back when I was alive.” Edwin doesn’t sound indignant now, just tired. “The way I walked, the way I spoke, the way I stood.  That was why Simon…”

He trails off, but Charles knows what he was going to say next. Days ago—at least Charles assumes it was days, but it may have been weeks by now—Edwin finally told him the whole story of how he died. Charles got so angry, he punched the bars of the cage and barely noticed when they burned his hand.

“They were fucking idiots,” Charles says fiercely. “All of them.”

“Of course they were, Charles. They accidentally summoned a demon as a prank. They were hardly Britain's greatest minds.”

“No, because they were shitty to you because of the way you stood.” Charles reaches up to put his hands on Edwin’s shoulders, just like he did on the stairs out of Hell, smoothing his thumbs over his collarbones. “Listen, you have to know that there’s nothing you could ever tell me that would make me never want to see you again, yeah? Nothing. You’re my best mate. That’s never going to change.”

He hears Edwin’s throat click as he swallows. “Never say never.”

“No, I will bloody well say never,” Charles says firmly. “Our friendship survived you not liking ska. It will survive anything.”

That earns him a small laugh.

Charles’s chest feels tight with a thousand emotions he can’t put a name to yet. “And I think you being in love with me is brills, okay?”

“You do?” Edwin sounds gobsmacked, which makes Charles smile. He likes taking his partner by surprise. Doesn't happen often, does it?

“I mean, it’s just… flattering, you know?” Charles’s face is warm, which is weird. Ghosts aren’t supposed to get flushed. Did he touch the iron bars without noticing? “Because you’re aces and if you love me, then I must be pretty great too, yeah?”

“Like I said in Port Townsend, you’re the best person I know,” Edwin says, voice going soft again.

Yeah, it’s definitely too warm in here. Time to get out of this bloody cage. “And at least you’re not in love with the Cat King or that bloody crow.”

Edwin lets out a huff of laughter. “I suppose it could be worse.”

Charles feels like there’s more to say, because Edwin’s got to know how much he means to him, but before he can find the right words, there’s a horrible wrenching noise, followed by a crash, as if the door has been ripped off the cage. Charles whirls around, arm thrown out to defend Edwin, ready to take on these wankers with his bare hands if he has to—

“For goodness’s sake.” The Night Nurse’s voice rings through the darkness. “I do not know how on earth the two of you managed before Crystal and I came along. Getting dragged to Hell, kidnapped by witches, and locked in cages. What a way to run a business.”

Charles’s shoulders sag with relief as Edwin makes an offended noise behind him. “Would you believe that we used to not get kidnapped all that often?”

“No,” she says flatly. “Now, come along, let’s get the two of you out of here before you manage to get into more trouble.”

***

Angst and Hurt/Comfort Prompts

[nemesyaaa]

do revenge // mean!rafe cameron x camdoll!reader

summary ; you were tired and sick of the hell life the well-known kook prince give you. so after being for so long his favorite victim, you decided to fight back.

warnings : dark content. insecurities. revenge plot. bully!rafe. poker face!rafe. sick behavior and toxic attitude. smut. oral(m. receiving). dollification. blackmailing. dubcon. shitty kooks behavior. bad thoughts. quickly mentions of some kinks. self-justice. pogue/kook hate/unfair dynamic. free hate. masked reader. threatening. power imbalance. baddie attitude. minors dni. please, be careful with the warnings.

author's note : the girl on the gifs is not a faceclaim, it's only to show what kinda mask she wear. it's the first time i think i do something like that so......and it's a one-shot, so it's maybe a little too long 💀

you worked as a waitress in a small restaurant. you hated this job but you had to make money and today the place was a little empty so you thought you could relax but that was before Rafe showed up with his gang of kooks. you had started shaking as soon as you saw them. you felt so small and trapped, your breath sped up. there was like a lack of air in your lungs because you knew how rafe was with you, how much he hated you but above all, how much he loved to humiliate you. it was his favorite pleasure: being cruel to you. and damn, he knew how to hurt you better than anyone. he must have broken so many things in you, your ego, your heart, your self-esteem, your confidence, your joy of living that you wondered how you were still standing in his presence.

with a tense smile, you approached them because you also couldn't escape the group. you hugged your notepad to your chest, pressing tightly the page against your breasts. you were about to open your mouth when rafe cut you off.

“i understand better why this restaurant is so empty…” he commented, looking you up and down. “ but what i don’t get is why you haven’t been fired yet when you’re scaring customers away.”

“apparently not everyone since you're here...." that was what you wanted to answer but you preferred to kill yourself rather than make a remark to rafe that was going to cost you your life. and you wouldn't want to give him this pleasure.

“have you chosen what you want? ” you said, addressing everyone, preferring to ignore the leader of the kooks group.

“it’s so cheap here. ” he had commented. “ very cheap. ” from his insistent look, you understood that he was including you in his criticism. he was very childish.

you nervously tighten your grip on your pen. of all rafe's friends, topper seemed the most sensitive to what you were going through but he always stayed quiet. this idiot finally ordered cocktails. the words had to be ripped out of his mouth.

when you came back with the drinks, you delicately placed them on the table. you were embarrassed by the way rafe stared at you like you had something on your face, like he was planning another nasty remark. and it didn't take long, because the next minute, he had managed to make you cry and made everyone laugh.

when you handed him his glass, he purposely knocked it to the ground.

“what are you waiting for, pogue? clean it. it's not like it's new to you, you're used to cleaning up other people's shit. "

burning tears started to come out of your eyes, you bit your trembling lip. your throat was tight, and you hated everything you were feeling right now. the shame, the humiliation, the fear, it destroyed you.

you brought something to clean before bending down. he hadn't apologized. he never did it anyway. you kept all this grudge inside of you, even if it killed you.

he picked up your rag with a smirk. “you don't need that when you can use your tongue. ”

you looked at him with wide eyes, as if you had heard wrong. topper had intervened before you did. “hey dude, no need to go that far.”

“shut up, topper. i really need to show you that all women are fucking dirty and disgusting sluts. so stop protecting them, and watch the show i put on for you. and for free. ”

"rafe...listen..." you said softly.

“you better listen to me if you don't want to be fired. you know how good i am at making your life hell.” you started to kneel down, bringing your face closer to the ground. “yes, you understand very easily, maybe you can show your ass to the camera too. record it, kelce. lick it well, sweetheart. don't want to see your ugly face on the screen. “

this day was the last straw. it was worse than anything. it was completely degrading and nasty.

and it was surely at that precise moment, that night to be exact, that everything had changed in you. that you had decided that this couldn't last, that you had to play into the enemy's game to defeat him, that sometimes you had to be unfair when he cheated, that when someone was bad, you had to be tougher and stronger.

it had been several years that you had endured criticism from rafe and kooks about your physique, your pogue condition, that your face was the center of mockery and the worst jokes, that it lasted to the point that you had surely become the funniest joke or meme in the island.

but you had grown up. you had prepared your revenge over several months. because you couldn't pretend it didn't affect you. but all the hatred you had felt for yourself had started to turn towards rafe, to give you a reason to live, a purpose because he had given you a furious and crazy idea.

he had humiliated you. and he was going to taste his own medicine.

deep down, you weren't just doing this for yourself but for all the pogue girls who had suffered harassment from kook boys, for all the girls who had received bad treatment because they didn't look like princesses, for all the girls who were made to believe that they deserved nothing because they did not meet the physical standards. you had to put an end to this nonsense.

so after five months, you had become what rafe loved the most. you had become a very popular online camdoll for kooks. you wore a mask that hid your facial identity enough to not be recognized. you had a completely different style. you were surely prettier, more magnificent in his eyes. because he had fallen into the trap. he had this slightly superficial side. you knew you had succeeded from the moment you felt the difference. not only did he want you, but he wanted to possess you.

he was one of your loyal viewers. he didn't have his first name as a username but you knew it was him. his messages had the same tone as when he spoke to you.

he was pathetic, because he paid to see your content, to talk to you, to hear you touch yourself, to do dirty things to you. no matter how much you charged.

he even sent you a video of him jerking off on one of your lives. you couldn't lie, you had watched the entire video. his fist was wrapped around his painfully cock, moving up and down, the leaking tip disappearing and appearing with the speed of his thrusts, the way his boner grew bigger the more he thought of you. he was going so fast that his bulge was literally slapping against his hand with a loud, obscene noise, his sagging balls moving in rhythm. his hair was messy, there was a quiver in his lips every time he made a grunt. “ fuck...fuck...fuc'...gonna fuck that dollface one day...gonna get this dick all in your dumb pussy. ” his length was very feverish and at the same time hard, shaken with spasms. the veins pumped by his strokes. he had come in such a short time, loads of cum exploding all over his sweating chest. he had wiped everything with a pack of tissues. and just when you thought the video had come, he started again.

you never responded. only downloaded the video and stored in a confidential folder.

but one day, he spoiled you a little too much. however, you weren't doing anything really crazy. you fulfilled clients' requests — which involved masturbating with a vibrator, playing with your breasts while riding a dildo, putting as many fingers as your viewers wanted in your pussy, letting them dress you however they wanted, letting them make you crazy stupid and vulnerable, doing little shows and hauls until you end up naked, playing with the food on your body, recording your orgasms, filming you when you slept naked or took a shower.

you had decided to thank rafe for his expensive gifts by asking him to come to your house. you had a studio that you had decorated, enough to make him believe that you lived well, and that you could be a kook. obviously, he had accepted and of course, he was hoping for sex when you told him you had a surprise for him.

it was, he was going to have sex. and you a revenge.

rafe had always assumed that he hated you, the shitty, ugly pogue, that he would never sleep with you. and to quote his own words “even for a million, i could never fuck such a disgusting thing. ” and it was always in public, in front of people. then you were going to do the exact same thing. you were going to fuck with him, and if he loved show that much, he was not going to be disappointed.

on the day, you had prepared yourself for the occasion. while you were getting ready, there were tons of flashbacks in your head, scenes, words that kept coming back. all this cruelty that could make you vomit.

“i really thought alcohol would help me find you attractive but no, you're still just as ugly. i thought it was a pogue thing baby but actually it's just you. ” it was rafe.

“ i felt like i had hit you in the face ten thousand times with my golf ball. ” it was still rafe.

“the difference between you and the other pogues? is that you angel, you will never be able to hide the fact that you are one. all the misery shows on your face. ” always rafe.

and it was each time heavier, more hardcore. he reminded you of your condition, but also of how much he couldn't see you. you were too horrible. you never told anyone about this treatment, about all this hatred. but you had now learned, from the best, how to make noise.

you wiped away your tears, and brought the mask to your face. “i can do it. ” you muttered to yourself as you began to get slightly anxious. you were afraid of breaking down in the middle of the act, of finally not being sure you wanted all of this. you felt mixed feelings. was it really good to do that, was it really right? but on the one hand, what had justice done for you until now? absolutely nothing. like everyone else, she had watched you get humiliated. so it was just common sense?

the door to your studio rang. you opened it. you couldn’t lie that rafe was really handsome and smell good. but the first thing you noticed was his smile.

he was completely different. you could see in his eyes for the first time, something positive towards you.

" welcome. ” you said with a smile, inviting him inside.

oh he resisted the urge to kiss you, his hands were in his pockets but they were nervous and unsteady. they wanted to be on you.

“do you want to drink something? ” you added the name of the cocktail he always had at your restaurant. you had done it on purpose but he hadn't noticed. he nodded.

“are you going to take off your mask one day? ”

“without it, i am no longer what i am. so it's better that i keep it. isn’t that all you want me to be? a doll. ”

“no, you’re right. then at least i know you're not a fucking pogue. ”

“it would be bad for your reputation too. i already see the headlines and the taunts "rafe cameron fucks a pogue" and people will laugh at you, and you hate it being humiliated. no one likes it. ”

“you look really nice, doll. i mean, kind.” he replied.

“i am but i believe that some people. ” you pressed the word, and gave him an honest look. “have abused a lot of this part of me. that's why i'm a doll, i don't have to feel anything, just do what people want me for. you can fulfill your every desire with me. do you want to see me in a certain dress? let me change. do you want to release your anger in me? let me help you. do you just want to fuck me? i am literally made for this. ”

“you are made for me. ” you smiled through the mask because in a way, he was right. he had created your character.

“do you mind if i film? i really want to record this. you are the first customer I have met. it's special for me. ”

" no. at least people will know to who you belong. ”

“that’s exactly it. ” you lied when starting the live. “let’s get started. ”

you had removed his pants and his boxers, placing yourself between his thick tighs, he was so much bigger than you that you looked like a small caged thing.

you placed your outrageously manicured hands on his open legs, your mouth sinking and wrapping around his hard cock. your tongue had started rolling around the girth, you could feel the small drop of precum going down your throat. this part that he was soon going to get fucked strongly and hard.

you wanted to drive him crazy, see him sweat like a pig because you were so good, because you did it all too well. he had wrapped your hair in a grip to make it easier to pull on it. “yes...suck that cock...just like that...let me ruin that mouth...fuck…”

your dripping lips were stretched by the size of his length, and the way it was getting completely hard inside of you. you could feel the drool running down the sides of your mouth. you felt every inch of his penis fucking your throat. and through your mask, you saw his smirks. he pulled your hair, and you took all of him, until your face came into contact with his pelvis, every bit of him was in you. you almost gagged.

he had barely pulled out of you before he entered you again. his cock worked against your tongue, brushing it harshly, the tip tapping the back of your throat. your cheeks were sunken, and your lips drowned between spittles and saliva. “you're perfect, doll...you really know how to suck...i could really take advantage of the situation if you keep this up...” at his words, you sucked him faster, pumping efficiently while his hand stroked your hair. his fingers moved along with your head.

he was completely using you, doing whatever he wanted with you. and you let him do it, because you wanted him to be proud of himself and to be seen on camera. he had pushed his cock onto your mask, decorating it with saliva, your own currently drooling. “so pretty. ” he had commented. he pushed his cock back into your mouth without warning, taking it ever deeper. you felt fizzy. your lips were open and used for several minutes non-stop, your throat puckered and pummeled. your jaw was starting to hurt, but you didn’t show it. you had to be perfect, packaged the way he wanted. your tongue flickered around him, teasing his girth.

“ need to be inside you...so bad...you make me feel so good. it's your face, doll. you're divine.”

maybe he had a mask kink to say that, to also be turned on by a fucking plastic object. or maybe it was the face he imagined behind it all? you didn't know.

he had thrown you on the bed, opened your legs in two and pushed your body against his hips, pulling you by the waist. his cock had twitching, purring some pre-cum, at the contact with your soaked cunt.

“ i could never sleep with a pogue. but especially with you, just thinking about it makes me vomit. “ it was perfect that you remembered that in the moment, as he thrust into you, his hips moving slowly.

your pussy clenched around his cock, barely letting him move without hurting you. “ fuck, you're so fucking tight, doll....need me to stretch this pretty little cunt. i'm gonna make you so dumb. “

you couldn’t hide that you still got wet, and damn, he knew how to fuck and you couldn’t be his first time. he had started pounding into you once your pussy had started to ease around him.

it was really intense, his body slamming violently against yours, the strike echoing through the room. your weak moans but which he heard very clearly, and which encouraged him to go even further within your walls. he pushed himself even more to hear you scream. he had a goal and he wanted to make you so stupid that in the end you wouldn't be able to do anything.

he buried himself inside you, his powerful thrusts stretching your pussy, your body twitching beneath him. he was on top of you, staring into your eyes. you were a little fascinated. his shoulders were broad and muscular, his arms heavy and toned, and his abs were perfect arranged into six packs. his hair fell on his forehead.

he couldn’t see the emotions on your face, nor clearly define what you were feeling. he only had your voice and the reactions of your body.

your pussy hugged him with each strokes, he filled you completely, making his way to your spot. your puffy slit was spread, capturing his bulge. you squeezed him harder, he startly getting down, the wet and dirty sounds of his hips rocking your body. you could see the vein on his neck, his contracted muscles covered in sweat.

he had placed his lips on yours, his mouth kissing yours. you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer to you, gently guiding the kiss with your tongue.

he continued to fuck you, while playing with his tongue in your mouth, kissing you without limits, until your lips and jaws were covered in drool. you waited for him to cum inside you. but he hadn't pulled out while you were flooded, loaded with his cum, and some orgasms you'd had. it dripped from your slit onto the sheets. he had placed the tip of his cock back in front of your entrance, picking up where his enjoyment had left you off.

this time it was a little gentler. it was like you had established a little intimacy even though you knew it wasn't true. after a few minutes, he stopped.

" are you always being that kind ?…”

“ you think i'm a mean person ? ”

“ you never hurt people ? never in your life ? ” you asked him, with a friendly tone.

“ what if ? ”

“ don't freak out. everyone has a mean side. now, you got me curious. can you tell me the worst thing you have done to someone ? ”

“ maybe it was to one of that trashy pogue…” it started, and you forced yourself to not react when you saw the smile on his face. even after years, it didn't regret anything. because obviously, he talked about you.

“ thank you for confessing this story to me. now, i have a gift for you…” you said with a fakely soft voice. “ it was not the sex part. i'm willing to let you see me without my mask. i really want you to see me because i trust you. ” was obviously a lie.

“are you sure? ” he was so surprised by your proposal. “ don't you want to tell me something worse you did to someone too ? ”

“ oh, it's part of the gift, rafe . ”

at this moment, he knew. he fucking knew.

he had removed your mask.

because of the shock, he took a step back.

his face was indescribable.

“oh no, you can't pretend to be disgusted, not after fucking me like you've wanted this your whole life. ” you smiled. “what did you say before? that you could throw up? liar. you came so hard in me. and, it is still dripping. come on, don't run away, give a closer look. maybe i should make you clean the mess you made with your tongue. like you did to me. maybe, this time you will vomit. but i'm not sure, you're such a pathetic hater. and i'm just not afraid of you anymore. ”

“what the fuck is wrong with you, pogue ?! did you have fun?”

“ pogue ? ” you mocked. “ was babydoll, sweetheart, a few minutes ago. now, it's pogue ? how it feels, rafe ? how does it feel to be humiliated ? i think, it's better for you to apologize for all these years. but not only for me, for every pogue. ”

a crazy laugh escaped his lips, as he came closer to you. “ really ? what make you feel that i will apologize ? especially to you. ”

“ because now, the game is over. it's a war and i'm gonna fight back. it means, i will drag you down. every secret, every weakness, every move that you want to hide from me will be from now my first concern. i'm glad that you hate me because it's only the beginning. ”

“ you really think that you have some power over me ? be serious. ”

“ it's not about power at all. it's about justice. ”

i also wanted to thanks @bunnyrafe @rafecameroninterlude and @bimbotrashcan who helped me a lot, and trusted me for this !! tysm, i'm very grateful <333

[kazuhahalol]

▹ Jeff the Killer Headcanons

Basic NSFW & SFW headcanons of my favorite creep! I’m so sorry I’ve been out for so long, I’ll try to post more!

Warnings: kidnapping, murder, nsfw content

Disclaimer: Everyone is welcome on my page and I will not turn you away. However, it is your fault if you’re uncomfortable or peeved with my writing because I give multiple warnings prior to my content. thanks!

masterlist

Appearance

⇀ I will not lie and say I grew up seeing Jeff as an accurate representation of what a burn victim would look like. I grew up with the skinny anime looking boy that most of us know as “Jeff the Killer”. Here are a few ways that I see Jeff different than how I used to see him when I was younger.

⇀ I honestly see him standing at around 5’7-5’9. I don’t expect him to be super tall like LJ, but not super short like BEN.

⇀ His skin is less of a white pigment and more pink since his skin has been burnt off and exposed. His skin has healed over time, making it look more like shitty patchwork over what a good recovery should look like.

⇀ I doubt he’d have hair but for the sake of fan service, if he did, it would probably be greasy. If he’s not living at the Wisconsin Sanctum for Wayward Boys (slendermansion) he’s not able to shower so he’d look dirty. No shower = no washing hair = greasy hair, scalp buildup and hair loss. In reality, Jeff would looked chopped AF.

⇀ His style hasn’t changed much from when he was 13. White hoodie and his black dress pants. He wears what’s practical and what he can get his hands on. If he did take the time to actually find clothing he approves of, I’d see him mostly being into something edgy.

⇀ Would have piercings but it would hurt like a bitch because his skin and tissues didn’t heal normally. He doesn’t mind because he likes the pain.

⇀ His glasgow smile heals overtime and he doesn’t mind it, but will occasionally carve it back open if he feels like it since it’s his signature look.

Personality

⇀ Edgelord.

⇀ People may say this is overdone, but I also see him as an arrogant asshole. There’s just something about him that screams, “I have a big ego and I’m going to make it everyone’s problem”.

⇀ Gets really pissed off when you call him his government or first name, “Jeffrey”, “Jeffrey Alan Woods”. He would tell you to shut the fuck up and to never say it again.

⇀ His sense of humor is twisted AF. He could be chatting with you and he’s suddenly bringing up how he tortured this poor school girl he kidnapped a few days ago and how much she was screaming, then laughs about it obnoxiously. The topic of the conversation was strawberries.

⇀ Doesn’t matter if it’s a person, place, or thing, Jeff is going to be obsessed with it if it catches his attention because he can’t like something like a normal person. One night he had ran into a girl that had managed to escape him, so he decided to stalk her to entertain himself, and now she’s all you hear about. “I can’t wait to sink my blade into her throat”, “I can’t wait to kill that fucking bitch. She kicked me in the balls”.

⇀ Has street smarts but is really dumb academically because he went crazy during 7th grade. He also mainly works off of impulse and never thinks before he speaks. All bite and bark.

⇀ Has a big ego. He’s obsessed with his own appearance and it’s hard for him to find anyone he deems attractive because his ideal type is basically himself.

⇀ Being completely serious, his type would be someone feisty and strong. Someone who can put up with his shit. He doesn’t like timid people or pushovers. He likes it even more if they can come up with run-on insults on the fly. He might save one of those for later.

⇀ Thick thighs, boobs > ass

Relationships

⇀ He’s toxic as hell and don’t even think for a second he’s not.

⇀ Gaslighter and manipulator.

⇀ Would never outright say that he “loves you”. His love language is acts of service, so he’d do small things for you like pick up something from one of his kills that reminded him of you and leave it at your door. He’d never willingly show the affection he has for you.

⇀ While we’re on that topic, he can be quite…different when it comes to romantic gestures. Gift giving was one thing, but he might even go the extra mile by carving your name into his own skin or random objects.

⇀ If you’re one of the creeps, he’d most likely loathe you at first but become attracted to your power. If you’re a normal person, he might’ve found interest for you while he was out on one of his kills and stalked you enough to feel something for you.

⇀ He is extremely obsessive and protective, often “marking you” so none of the other creeps lay a hand on you if you’re also a proxy living in the mansion. If you’re a normal person, he’s often stalking you. If he witnesses you getting bullied or harassed, the attacker ends up dead later that night.

⇀ Gets very jealous very easily. Be careful with him because it can get really ugly.

⇀ Platonic or romantic, everyone has to be careful around him. Jeff can go from being chill to being hotheaded in only a few seconds. Arguments often happen because of his low patience, leading to wavering trust and security in the relationship.

NSFW Beyond this point

⇀ Doesn’t usually call you pet names, but when he does it’s usually “Babe”, “Doll”, “Sweet Cheeks”, “My Girl”, “My Bitch”. (Girls, if your man is calling you “his bitch”, leave him immediately!!!)

⇀ Very rough in bed. He doesn’t hold back when it comes to marking you, leaving any spot untouched bruised and covered with hickeys.

⇀ His kinks are rather…questionable. You guessed he’d be into bondage, choking, and role play, but you weren’t expecting him to hold a gun or knife to your head or throat mid blowjob. He thrives on seeing your scared and confused expression while you suck him off.

⇀ Doesn’t care for aftercare. He cleans you up with a towel then slumps for the rest of the night. He could blow your back out, have you screaming all night then leave you shivering on the side of the bed with no blanket, snoring obnoxiously.

⇀ Before he met you, he would usually find one lucky girl whenever he’s in the mood to fuck. He wouldn’t force her, obviously. He’s a killer, not a monster. He would then leave without another trace, not caring enough to go back to her. It depends whether or not he’s in a good mood if he’ll kill her right after or spare her. He’s probably gotten someone pregnant and is unknowingly a deadbeat dad.

⇀ Seven inches is all I’m going to say.

[needtoloveoutloud]

Shadows Of Our Past, Present, and (possible) Future — Series

Join the Discord Server! :)

My Hero Academia — Female!OC Fan Fiction on AO3

Part One (Completed — 93k words):

The one where Shota Aizawa stumbles upon a back alley full of stray cats and ends up adopting a child

“Fine, then a cat? We both know how much you love those little furry…things.” At this, Shota paused the game and turned to the pushy blonde next to him. “I actually have considered that.” “And?” “And: also, no. It makes no sense.” Hizashi looked almost scandalized. “Makes no sense?” “I made a pro and contra list.” “Of course you did.”

When underground hero Shota Aizawa, twenty-two years old, is out on patrol one Friday evening, he doesn't expect that a single meow from a cat would lead him to find a homeless girl called Yoru. From then on, Yoru and Shota grow up together, make mistakes together, and try to overcome every obstacle life throws at them.

>> Read on AO3 <<

Part Two (Ongoing, regular updates — growing long fic — 555k words so far — READ PART 1 FIRST, PLEASE AND THANK YOU):

The one where Yoru Aizawa tries to navigate through life at U.A.

Two days after her fifteenth birthday, Yoru decides to drop the bomb on him. “I want to go to U.A.” “You want to go to U.A.” Her Dad puts the book he's been reading down on the glass balcony table.  “Yes, I want to go to U.A.” She slumps down on the outdoor couch next to him, grabbing the discarded book. “What are you reading?” ‘A Book of Five Rings by Miyamoto Musashi — The classic guide to strategy ’. She raises an eyebrow. “Reading that for fun, huh?” “Why do you want to go to U.A.? You never cared much about heroes. Besides Edgeshot, that is.” Yoru smirks up at him. “What, jealous?” “As if.” “You know, even if they sold Eraserhead posters, I wouldn’t hang them up. It would be super weird.” “Good to know where your loyalties lie.” He rolls his eyes. “Back to the topic at hand, why do you want to go to U.A.? Because Shinso wants to go?” “No.” Pause. “Okay, that may be part of it. But I’m serious. I’ve been thinking about it for a while now, and I really want to go.” “That might be so, but you still neglected to tell me why you want to attend there.” Yoru plays with her hair, noting how it’s time for another hair cut when she finds some split ends. “I wanna be a hero.” Her Dad blinks. “A hero?” “Yes. Well, I want to help people and do some good with that shitty quirk of mine.”

When Yoru tells her Dad that she wants to attend U.A., she expects it to be a difficult path. She didn't expect all the awkwardness, blossoming friendships, confusing feelings, and near-death experiences, though.

>> Read on AO3 <<

Please heed the warnings/tags (TWs in the author's notes of chapters where they apply to).

Also: because someone asked this before - you can read it as a reader insert if you want. I don't mind at all. Feel free to imagine yourself as part of the story. Just know that Yoru (the OC) will have descriptions of her visual appearance.

This story is a mix of:

Slice of life

Hurt/Comfort

Angst/Fluff

Humor

Dadzawa

SLOW BURN Romance — Enemies to Lovers (Bakugo x Yoru)

SLOW BURN Romance — EraserMic (but it's a subtle slow burn)

Growing up, coming of age (hopefully lol)

Teenage awkwardness

Mixed media (pictures, music, chat screenshots (later on in Part 2), etc. — chat screenshots will always have the written text below, to make it accessible for visually impaired folks or people who use screen readers)

and more...

Author: NoBecksPleaseNo on AO3

Please don't copy or plagiarize the work, the character, the premise, etc. Also, no cross-posting anywhere, please and thank you.

Disclaimer: Yoru's image is AI generated and then edited/adjusted by the author. The other character images in the header are from Pinterest (besides the one of Present Mic/Midnight, that one's from the light novels) — unfortunately without a source. If you're the artist, and you're not okay with me using them, please message me and I will remove them. If you're the artist and are okay with me using them, please tell me, so I can credit you.

Besides the OC characters, I don't own any already existing characters from the My Hero Academia Universe — that honor belongs to Kohei Horikoshi.

[feyhunter78]

Jealously, Jealously

Couldn’t find a fanart I felt fit so have a gif!

Nerd!Miguel Masterlist

You’re not jealous, you can’t be jealous, because Miguel isn’t yours. You’re friends, study buddies, lab partners, platonic, platonic, platonic, so why do you feel so shitty watching him and this random girl—Ava she said her name was—flirting?

Maybe it’s because she’s flipping her long silky black hair over her shoulder, batting her thick naturally dark lashes up at him, laughing at his jokes with a laugh that sounds like music, and Miguel’s eating it up.

You’ve never seen Miguel so confident, and it hurts. You’ve been friends with him for ages now, and he’s never been so forward, so clearly sure of himself when he’s with you. He’s talking, leaning down to hear her better, letting her touch his arm, his chest, even his fucking neck.

You stew in silence, arms crossed, watching them from your place behind the Sig Epp letters.

You were supposed to be getting lunch, walking, and talking with Miguel, only stopping to say hello to Brett, but then this Ava girl showed up and all of a sudden, she and Miguel have to speak privately.

“What’s got you all heated?” Brett asks, bumping his shoulder into yours, joining you against the low wall, behind the giant painted letters.

They’re what four-five feet tall, painted in the Sig Epp colors, made of plywood and some other material you don’t really recognize, and don’t care to. They’re good to hide behind, and that’s what you’re doing.

“I’m not heated.” You tell him, rolling your eyes when Ava playfully squeezes Miguel’s bicep, her laugh ringing out through the courtyard.

“Tsst, ouch.” Brett says, jerking away from you dramatically, acting as if touching your shoulder burned him.

“You’re not funny.” You deadpan, averting your eyes from Miguel and onto Brett.

“I’m a little funny.” He says, “remember when I got Dr. Blevins to do that TikTok trend with me?”

“The one where you tried to guess which of the other professors in the department he hated?” You snort, turning to face him, leaning against the sun-bleached bricks.

It was pretty funny, Dr. Belvins wasn’t the nicest man on the planet, but who would’ve known he had such a hatred for Dr. Vervid? Though you shouldn’t be too surprised, there weren’t many people who liked the Organic Chemistry professor.

“See I’m funny.” Brett says, wriggling his eyebrows victoriously.

“You did one funny thing.”

He presses a hand to his heart. “You wound me y/n, truly, down to the deepest chasm of my very soul.”

“Alright, Shakespeare,” you laugh, “time to phone it in.”

Brett takes an exaggerated bow.

You roll your eyes but giggle. Brett is a goof, and while usually you find it all a bit ridiculous, it does the trick, the uncomfortable emotions you’re feeling lessen.

“No, but seriously, you seem upset, is everything alright?” Brett’s voice takes on a more serious tone, and he gives you a sympathetic smile. “I know we’re not close like you and Miguel, but I do consider you a friend, and if I can help, I’d like to.”

Are you crying? You think you might cry. “Shut up, why are you being so nice to me?”

“I’m a nice guy, not like that, an actual nice guy, a nice person.”

You sigh and roll your neck, letting it hang to one side as you look at Brett. “I think I might be jealous?”

“Oh, of Miguel and Ava? Yeah, I see them hanging out sometimes, she’s hot.”

Gut punch.

“You’ve seen them hanging out?” You dig your nails into your palm to try and keep the emotion out of your voice. Thankfully it works.

“Sometimes, used to see them hanging out before you two got close, but it’s picked back up recently.” Brett says, casting a surprisingly subtle glance over at the dark-haired pair.

Double gut punch.

“Oh…cool.” You reach for your phone preparing to either hide in it or text Miguel and tell him you have to miss lunch, either way you’re pretty sure you’re going to start crying.

Brett snaps to attention and reaches out to put a hand on your shoulder. “Shit, y/n, I didn’t even—I’m sorry.”

“No, no, Miguel and I are just friends, I don’t care who he hangs out with, it doesn’t matter to me.”

Totally doesn’t matter that he defended you against Kron, that he said he wanted to have a daughter with you. That you almost kissed, that he’s coming with you to the semiformal, that you eat lunch together every day during the week, totally doesn’t matter.

“Oh well...I don’t think they’re dating or anything, Miguel isn’t like that, he wouldn’t…” He rubs the back of his neck sheepishly. “He’s not the kind of guy to lead someone on.”

“I said we’re just friends. Bye Brett.” You snap, shoving your phone back in your pocket and readjusting your backpack as you speed walk in the opposite direction of Miguel. Hoping fervently that you can make it back to the Humanities Building, then to the parking lot, before he notices you’re gone.

Of course, you have no such luck, and you can hear Miguel calling out to you, then your phone lights up in your hand.

“Hey.” You say, keeping your voice calm.

“Y/N, where are you going, I thought we were getting lunch?” His voice is so sweet, so concerned, and you hate him for it.

“I forgot my next class was canceled, and I have a big essay coming up, I’m just going to go home and work on it.” You lie, digging your car keys out of your backpack.

“Oh…okay…” You can picture him, standing there all alone, looking down at his feet, clutching the strap of his backpack protectively, his voice thick with disappointment.

You hate yourself for feeling guilty, but then you remember he’s not alone, he has Ava.

“Just go eat lunch with Ava, you guys seemed pretty cozy, don’t let me interrupt.” You can’t stop the venom from dripping into your voice.

“Interrupt? Y/N, you wouldn’t be—no, I’m not—Ava is just—it’s not like that.” Clearly, the words are spilling past his lips faster than his brain can process them.

“I don’t care, go, have fun, do whatever you want.” It’s petty, and unreasonable, you know, but you’re hurt, and you want him to hurt too. You hang up and put your phone on do not disturb, slamming your car door shut and heading home as you burst into tears.

Directly connected parts are: Flowers On Your Doorstep and Semiformal Kisses and Cat Fights

TL: @bat-bae, @nyctophilic0vitnir, @smokeywhalee, @obi-mom-kenobi, @prowlingforfood, @penggion, @crystal-crax, @oharasfilipinawife, @generalkenobitrash, @melsimps, @chrishy973, @farrowroyale, @palesatan, @scaryplanetdestroyer, @denzmallows, @36namey

[its-your-mind]

Something something timkon and hair and how lex lichrally programmed Kon to shave his head before he went all luthor and was forced to attack his team, his best friends, his family. and then how most of the hair on the back of Tim’s head got burned off when he got blowed up (thx Steph) and he had to cut or shave the rest of it off so it could grow back semi-evenly. and how kon was a #rebel esp compared to all-American Boy Scout Superman; Kon’s rockin around with the side cut and the leather jacket and the buckles and the spikes or the (ill-advised and made me sad) black t-shirt and jeans but even the “I am a totally normal bro” getup made him distinct and different from Kal and that is really important to Kon because he wants to be his own person, not a Superman-stand-in. and THEN fucking LEX made it so Kon would look more like Lex! his other DNA donor!!! And Tim!! He kept his hair short — just long enough to spike it up as Robin — until both of his parents were gone. which suggests to me that he kinda always wanted it long (hello Tim Drake, #1 Dick Grayson stan) but that just wasn’t an option allowed to him (not uncommon for parents who care Very Much about Appearances — my own parents were the same about my brothers’ hair growing up, not least because the private all-boys school they went to dictated that their hair couldn’t be long enough to touch the collar of their shirt (with exceptions for [insert kinda racist and vaguely xenophobic language here] hair styles). As soon as he turned 18 my baby brother got a rocker-style mane. But I digress. Anyway). Then, post-tragedy, Tim’s hair got long enough to flip down over his forehead and stream behind him when he swung through the city (perhaps one of his ways of clinging to control and his sense of self in the whole awful situation). But then… Tim got fucking exploded, betrayed by his ex-girlfriend who had only just returned after letting him grieve her death for a year, and now she’s following Tim’s dead father mentor’s instructions to challenge him or whatever the fuck bullshit Batman told her, (a young girl whose own father was an asshole criminal, who so desperately wanted Bruce to be proud of her) and now Tim has to cut his hair all the way down to the scalp again and listen. I’m sorry dc tim looks fucking amazing in adventure comics and I’m in love with how he is arted but hair cannot and does not grow back that quick!! Mf had to wait!! I bet it grew in fucking patchy!! I bet kon’s did too!! (prolly not as bad as Tim’s cuz Tim’s got scar tissue and shit.)

but I just think tim and kon deserve a chance to sit down and just commiserate with each other about growing their hair back out (growing back out a sidecut is a BITCH I speak from experience) and Tim’s prolly having to trim his own hair super often to keep it nice-ish while it comes back in, and Kon’s curls are just a fucking MESS until they grow out enough to like. Curl. (Again, speaking from experience) And they’re just shooting the shit (“well MINE was worse bc I looked like fucking LEX. LUTHOR.” / “well you didn’t have to wait to figure out which parts of your scalp we actually gonna bother growing hair again”) until it gets quiet for a minute. And then one of them asks if the hair also reminds the other one of The Shitty Thing That Happened. And then they fucking talk about it. About how they can’t look in the mirror without having a flashback of pain or rage. How it makes them feel like they don’t even get to control their own bodies, their own appearances, and how much that fucking sucks. How they go to run their hand through their hair and there’s just. Not enough of it to do that. How Kon is terrified that somehow looking like Lex means Lex will use him to hurt the people he loves again. How every time Tim sees another Bat or Bird looking at the back of his head, all he can think about is how they might be planning to lure him into another Bat-mandated trap test. How both Tim and Kon kinda really miss the feeling of people playing with their hair. How they miss playing with each others’ hair.

And maybe then one of them extends an offer and the other does the same and they agree to do each others’ hair. Maybe it’ll help paint a new layer over those awful memories.

So Kon finds Tim once a week (he’s never in the same place, he’s rarely even in the same country) and he trims the hair until it looks even, gives Tim the #sitch on how much hair is growing back in. After the second or third week he realizes that Tim’s not keeping up with his burn-care routine, so he starts bringing burn and scar cream with him too. Then he remembers Tim’s lack of a hair care routine and starts trying out different products on Tim’s hair to see what works best. Tim doesn’t say anything, but he thinks all of this feels even better than when Kon and Cassie used to twist little braids into his hair.

Kon insists that Tim doesn’t have to help until his hair’s grown out more, (that he doesn’t want Tim nearby and distracted while Kon still looks like Lex) but Tim outright refuses to let Kon push him away and he will NOT be outdone in the caretaking game. He waits until Kon’s busy fighting some giant alien robot in metropolis and sneaks in to the Kents’ house to scope out what products Kon uses. When he leaves the bathroom, Ma Kent is there, eyebrow raised. She tells him he “could have just knocked on the front door, sweetheart, we know how’ta keep secrets in this house. Now, let’s get some food in you before Conner comes home. You’re all skin and bones, hun.” So Tim goes downstairs and takes some mini meat pies for the road, and then researches the products Kon uses, what they do, what the ingredients do, if there are other (more expensive) options that people have sworn up and down are better. He amasses a collection, and the next time Kon shows up with clippers and healing creams and a new shampoo to try, Tim’s already got ten different products lined up on the sink — everything from shampoos and conditioners to serums and masks. Kon asks if these are things Tim wants Kon to use in Tim’s hair. Tim tells him that no, all of these are for Tim to try on Kon. Kon almost cries. (He does cry, he just doesn’t let the tears fall until Tim isn’t looking.) (Tim notices anyway ofc.) And Tim’s made a spreadsheet to track the effectiveness of different products, different ingredients, different combinations, so he tells Kon to start coming every 2-3 days instead, so he can establish results using a realistic timeframe. Sometimes, if Tim’s gonna be in one place for a few days, Kon just crashes with him. (Neither of them say it, but they both fucking CRAVE the old Core Four cuddle piles.) Eventually, when Kon’s hair is long enough that he’s ready to switch back to his side-cut again, Tim surprises him by not only shaving the hair down, but shaving a few racing stripes (“they’re flight patterns!” / “rob, I dunno what to tell you. everyone’s gonna think they’re racing stripes. doesn’t mean they aren’t dope as fuck, though.”) into Kon’s hair. Every time Kon’s hair grows out enough, Tim shaves it back and stencils in a new design. Kon starts making requests (“gimme the Super ‘S’!” / “It’s the House of El crest, Kon. You know that. Also, you have a secret identity to maintain.” / “C’mon, I’ll just say I’m a fan!” / “With the same El family crest shaved onto your scalp as Superboy?” / “No one’s noticed the identical head decor yet!”) but it’s the day Kon asks (with the same confident and mischievous tone as always) for Tim to shave in the Red Robin crest that something in Tim’s chest, something formless and warm that he hadn’t really paid attention to before, seers a burning path through his heart, takes root, and solidifies.

“Kon. I love you.”

Kon’s distracted, rifling through their hair-care bags for Tim’s razors. “Love you too, Robbie. Duh. That’s why I’m askin’ you to shave your cre–”

“No,” Tim shakes his head, mildly frustrated with himself for the lack of clarity. “I’m in love with you. I think I have been for a while.”

Kon is seated in the chair they’d pulled into the bathroom from the hotel room’s desk, so he has to look up to meet Tim’s eyes. The hand digging beneath sample bottles of leave-in conditioner freezes, still wrist-deep in hair products. Kon’s expression looks to Tim like one of his video games’ character builders froze between the settings for ‘bright smile’ and ‘shock and awe.’

So Tim just looks down at him. Waits. If this was anyone else, Tim would probably be losing his mind right now, but… it’s Kon. Tim’s safe. Kon would never do anything to hurt him.

Kon unfreezes, blinks a few times. “Could you–” he coughs. “Could you say that again? I think my brain maybe like, malfunctioned for a second.”

Tim takes a step closer, reaches out one hand to cup Kon’s cheek, scratches his fingertips through the stubble on the side of Kon’s head. “I’m in love with you, Conner Kent.”

Tears fill Kon’s eyes, and he blinks them away. “That’s– that’s what I thought you said.” His hand (the one not trapped beneath a sea of shampoos, some detached and unhelpful part of Tim’s mind remarks) comes up to gently rest on Tim’s hip. “Robbie, Tim, I– of course I’m in love with you. You– you’re– you’re amazing, you know that? You’re so kind and strong and you’re a genius and you’re a gift to everyone around you; I dunno how everyone else doesn’t see you like I do.”

Tim can’t help but reach out his other hand to wrap around the back of Kon’s head, to feel where the curls carve a path down through the shorter hair and come to a sharp point.

“I mean, damn Wonder Boy,” Kon tries to muster up his Superboy smirk, but the look in his eyes is full of too much genuine affection for him to pull it off. “I think I’ve been in love with you since Kauai, since you grabbed me outta free-fall and swung me to safety. You caught me. No one’d ever done that before. And then you just… kept doing it. You’re still saving me, still taking care of me.”

Kon reaches his other hand (no eruption of hairspray, thank you TTK, that same unhelpful part of Tim’s mind comments. Read the room! the rest of Tim yells at it.) around the back of Tim’s neck, avoiding the tender and scarred areas with practiced ease, and pulls Tim down until their foreheads touch.

“I love you, Wonder. I love you, Robbie.” Kon tilts his head up, waits until their eyes meet. He’s got the biggest smile on his face that Tim’s ever seen.

Tim smiles back, and Kon’s eyes soften. “I love you, Tim.”

Tim leans down and uses his hands on either side of Kon’s head to guide Kon’s lips up to his own.

This is what I want to remember, Tim thinks as he feels Kon’s fingers gliding softly against the sensitive skin of his burn, feels Kon’s TTK covering and protecting the parts still too tender to touch. Tim runs his own fingertips back and forth over the stubble on the sides of Kon’s head, before pushing them up until they’re tangled in Kon’s curls.

I don’t want to care anymore whether or not the people around me look at the back of my head and see weakness or failure. They don’t get to decide whether this mark on my body matters or what it means. I do. And I decide that these scars are important because they brought me here, to this moment. They brought me to Kon.

Kon tilts his head down to break the kiss. He stands up, and before Tim gets a chance to move away and give him space, Kon wraps his arms and TTK around him. He plants a kiss in Tim’s hair. “Damn, Wonder Boy. Having to grow all my hair back almost feels worth it if it got me here.”

Tim smiles and wraps his arms around Kon’s waist, nestles into Kon’s chest. “You know what, Clone Boy? I was just thinking the same thing.”

[annaesterella]

What if.. Darling just decided to sacrifice herself for the Batfam, and after that, she starts going into an loop of sacrifices for them, again and again.

“𝘢𝘨𝘢𝘪𝘯 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘢𝘨𝘢𝘪𝘯 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘢𝘨𝘢𝘪𝘯.. 𝘋𝘖 𝘐𝘛 𝗔𝗚𝗔𝗜𝗡”

𝘞𝘢𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴: Obsession, unhealthy habits, time loop, manipulation, yan themes, yandere undertones, yan-platonic bat family, romantic- yan Jason Todd --- English is not my first language, consider it (por favor)

Fem reader

Batfam is cray cray, they see you as their daughter(sis) in law, and Jason sees you as his lover (HE GOT THE BIGGER TOOTH PICK AND HE IS SO HAPPY BECAUSE OF IT)

Kid- Damian ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Dad- Bruce

Teen- Tim ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Brother: Dick

Alfred - granpa ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Sister, family friends, animals: Cass, Duke,Steph and Babs, Alfred the cat and Titus.

Again.. when did it all started? Well.. it started.. a 500 loops ago, it was.. at first an act of "accidental" sacrifice. A child, who she didn't know, being used as a hostage by some other stupid villain, she decided it would be "lovely" to give up on her life, which was already ready to end, after all, a child should live a happy and peaceful life, her life was already on her..? Fuck.. she doesn't remember, but still, he should live, live the life she couldn't; then she did it, she jumped, got herself shot and saw the world burn as the great Dark Knight and his lil hero frienda showed up. She smiled, as she looked up at the little kid. Slowly, she saw herself walking towards a door, only to feel some strong hands on her shoulders, pulling her back, she looked back only to see herself again in the mirror, again, as if what she done didn't happen, as if it was just a shitty dream of her dying, she got up, dressed up and went to her.. life? As if she could call *It* that way, haha..

The day seemed the same, just some things different, maybe it was all a dream after all, but still, it felt really..soft to be dead, she wouldn't kill herself, but still... Comfortable, then again, she heard a crash, looking in the way of the loud noise, as if the dream was becoming real, the difference is that this time it was and old man, and a building breaking behind him. She widened her eyes, running to the old man, she helped him to get out of there, only to look behind and see that large building making a shadow, she looked at the old man that screamed to her to get out of there, only to hear the deafening sound of silence and a thin sound, she smiled, before closing her eyes again, and seeing the door, she walked towards It, only to feel that rough hands pulling her back again, she again looked back, only to see the door and the room, before waking up again. She was now unsure if it was *again* just a dream

Again the day seemed the same, again just some silly things were different, she looked at the clock, 10:00.. an loud crash and an teen boy screamed at the top of his lungs, she looked at his way and saw a villain, threatening the boy while hurting his arm with something that seemed like a dagger.. she then grabbed some thing and with all her rage and strengh she tossed it on his head, she only saw the last 10 seconds, the villain letting the teen go, and going towards her, all very slowly, she just looked at the teen, screaming at her to get out, but again, she just smiled and then she just heard again that deafening sound, the door, and she runned towards It again, but then, she fell, feeling someone, of something, drag her again. *Again* she woke up, tired, but still.. what If she didn't got out the house? No.. she wanted to see what would happen now.

And That's how we ended up on this Goddamn loop. Again, but why she can't just die? Why she must come back every time? Who pulls her back? Who are those people who she saves? Does she know them? Would she know them if she lived? Would she? She saved all of them, *all of them* The kid, the dad, the brother, the sister, the friends, the granpa, even animals! all of them, in loops, she even tried to get their names, but it was always too fast, too late, but still, who pulled her back? Why she couldn't pass through the door?

There she was.. their little star, their lil savior.. still, it felt so.. mean of them to let her die, after the 10th time, Alfred had to stop going, or he wouldn't be capable to look at her without feeling guilty when it was their time to rescue her, his lil grand-daughter-in-law, it was how he would call her, again, they looked at her by some window, the window of that room, the one she can't get in, not without their help. Today it was his first and last time getting saved before they got her, after all, they already knew their little star, she saw them 499 times before this one, today it was the day of her lover, the one who picked up the bigger toothpick and got to be her soon-to-be fiancé, She is not his lil star, she is his sun, the one he must pull back to save them, again, to be saved. He got ready, jumping into the reality, seeing all her daily rotine, before seeing 10:00 on the big clock, he then heard a bomb and saw her running towards him, ready to save him, then he perked up, not giving a single care in the world about the bomb, only about his goddess, his sun.

She stopped dead in her tracks when she saw someone new, who was he? Still, she had to save him, when she heard the tick tock, it all clicked on her mind, she ran to him, as if slow motion, trying to get him out of there, only to get picked up by him, finally, something different happened, when she saw she didn't die, she saw the bank exploding and all, but she didn't die, SHE DIDN'T DIE! She started sobbing, as she saw Batman and his family flying through the air to fight the villains, as she cried in the arms of the big, tall stranger, hugging him as he walked, not seeing where he was taking her. She again fell asleep, she saw the door, and didn't try to walk towards It, again crying as she thought she died again, in the arms of her "savior" but then, the door opened, she felt that same strong hands around her, this time caressing her hand and in her waist, as she walked towards the door, she saw all of them, the people who she saved, in some kind of living room, waiting for her, with open arms, as the person behind her leaned in, saying in her ear, before kissing her cheek and snuggling in her neck, as she looked at his dark curls with an white streak.

“𝗪𝗲𝗹𝗰𝗼𝗺𝗲,𝘠/𝘕, 𝘭𝘪𝘵𝘵𝘭𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘳.. ”

[almacambiondaughterofsaleos]

Helluva Boss Is Teaching The Opposite Lesson Of Bojack About How Toxic Being Hoisted Into The Emotional Support Is

In Bojack, the biggest thing that eventually breaks Bojack and Diane's relationship is his dependency on her and his need to seek her for emotional support. This culminates when he does a suicide attempt and while leaving her a message saying if he should go through with it. As a result, when they meet again this is the straw that breaks the camel back and she finally cuts ties with Bojack because as the line said she gotten tired of carrying his baggage and the narrative doesn't' shame her for it. She needed to move on to better things and focus on bettering herself as a person rather than being stuck in a toxic friendship. Even if it did hurt Bojack to lose a good friend, she still was right to finally put her foot down and say enough was enough.

However, in Helluva Boss the message seems to be the opposite at least when it comes to Stolas where everyone has to accommodate him both emotionally and mentally because he's the creator's pet. Despite the shit he puts people through, anyone who dares calls him out is vilified like Blitzo and he has to apologize for not being his knight in shining armor. Unlike Bojack, he's shielded from his criticism by making his opposition look worse or deflect by pulling the crybaby routine.

And sadly enough, the series eventually makes Blitzo break into the role he dread being which is basically a willing butler for Stolas. He's basically the fate that would scare Diane which is basically being a mindless cheerleader for someone who proves to be more and more toxic. Given that even though they are now canon, Vivziepop has stated she still is going to put them through the wringer in season 3 and I don't have a good feeling about it. I know Stolas is going to pull more shitty stuff on Blitzo and then act like the victim, while Blitzo will be vilified for it for not being supportive enough. In my opinion, the worst thing about this ship is how it feels all take and no give. Blitzo gives out everything for Stolas yet all he does is take and doesn't really give back anything. And in my opinion, grand gestures like the sacrifice doesn't really make up for lacking the little things. Also cutsey moments like the dance doesn't absolve the issues this toxic ship has. All around it's the fact that Blitzo like Diane has to do the heavy lifting for a toxic person and is going to get burned for it, but unlike her the narrative will refuse to let him escape it.

[reidspharb]

The Moment I Knew

*Part two

Summary: Spencer misses your 25th birthday and that’s when you realize your relationship can’t be fixed.

Word count: 800 or something idk ICBA shes a short one

Warnings: angst, Reid is a shitty boyfriend in this one

Note: hi this was written at 3 am and I’m new to writing so if this sucks sorry anyways but I got this idea from Taylor Swifts song by the Same name and I thought I would write it so yeah enjoy

Sure, you were so happy all your friends were there and everyone was having a good time… but you couldn’t help but think about Spence.

It was 10 pm, the party started at 8 and he still wasn’t there like he promised. You couldn’t help but think about him coming through the door right now, gifts in hand as he did on your last birthday with that baby I’m right here smile.

You knew he couldn’t be here, and you knew how much he valued his work, but, he wasn’t even on a case far away… he was here, in Virginia, and he couldn’t even call to wish you a happy birthday.

Your eyes were locked on the door most of the time as you socialized. People asked about him, about your relationship, and the most you could give them was a sad smile and a dishonest word about how great everything was going.

“So how have you been,” your friend Sarah said as she laughed and took a sip of her drink “I mean I feel like I haven’t seen you in forever!”

you plastered on the brightest fake smile you could and mustered up an answer just normal enough to get you by.

“I've been okay, you know, with work and everything.”

All you could think about was him, how he said he would be there. He told you- no he promised you weeks in advance that he would be here. But he’s not.

You felt stupid, standing there all dolled up in your tight black dress and red lipstick. You thought maybe if you dressed up nice he would make sure to be there, but then again, there you were with no one to impress.

You knew it was hopeless, there you were on your birthday staring at the door and watching the clock tick as everyone around you danced and laughed. You looked around the room, trying to spot him in the crowd but who were you fooling, you knew he wasn’t there.

As you listened to your loved ones sing happy birthday around you, you could only hear his voice in your memory. When you blew out those candles your only wish was for him to be there with you. You should’ve been so happy, but he was the one thing missing.

Then it was 1 am, and you were barely tipsy. you already had a nervous stomach, you knew drinking would only make it worse. By now you were sick of everyone being around you, you just wanted to be alone. You stumbled to the bathroom over some discarded red cups and locked yourself in there, tears burning at your eyes when you saw yourself in the mirror.

You did your makeup the way he liked it too so that if you sent pictures he really wouldn’t miss it, such a naive thing to think you told yourself. You heard a knock on your door and there were your two best friends, Tegan and Oliver, mixed with the emotions of seeing them staring at you with so much pity in their eyes and Spencer being away made you break down.

Tegan held you as you sobbed, mascara dripping down your cheeks with every tear.

“He said- he said he would be here…”

“I'm so sorry, love bug, I wish I could grab him and rip him into pieces. You deserve so much better.” Said Oliver, holding your cold hands.

You felt so embarrassed, sitting there in front of your friends crying about some stupid boy. But he was the one who meant the most to you and he wasn’t there.

The next morning you woke up on your couch, head pounding. Your apartment was trashed, there were plastic cups scattered all over the room. As you stepped over them to get ready for the day, you felt a sharp pain in your chest as you heard Spencer’s familiar ringtone playing from your phone.

“Hey doll, it’s me” he sighed on the other line of the phone.

“Hi, Spencer.” You mumbled. You knew it would hurt to say his whole name instead of the nickname you’d been calling him since the day you met him.

“I'm so sorry I didn’t make it babe I was caught up in paperwork and I lost tra-“ you interrupted his rambling, you didn’t care anymore.

“It’s fine. I’ll talk to you later Spencer.” You hissed into the phone before hitting the red button on the screen and setting your phone back down on the counter.

That was the moment you knew.

That was the moment you knew that this would never work out.

[songmingisthighs]

Feelings, Feelings

group : ateez

pairing : wooyoung × reader (platonic)

genre : oneshot, hurt/comfort

wc : 1.4 k

warning : shitty friends lmao

a/n : requested by anon

buy me coffee ?

You were not in the best mood and it showed.

The people who woukd usually greet and talk to you seem to avoid you because you looked like you didn't want to be bothered. If the look on your face didn't give it away, your hastened pace and rigid body language absolutely did.

See, you weren't having a bad day. You were actually on the verge of an emotional breakdown. It all started about a week ago when your group of friends talked about going for a night out, bar hopping or clubbing or something and they talked over you completely. One person actually had the decency to ask your opinion directly while the others only said things like 'oh she wouldn't like that' 'that's so not (y/n)' 'she'd just be in the corner being a bummer' and more. While you do realize they were just joking around and trying to be funny, it hurt you that they'd just talk FOR you. Sure, you really didn't like their plans but it HAD been a while since all of you met up and hung out.

So imagine your surprise to see your friends posting a picture of their drinks on their social media accounts.

You stood frozen in the middle of the grocery store when you saw one of their Instagram stories and you even had to sit in a corner as you scroll through your group chat that had been practically dead for 2 days, wanting to see if you missed any updates because as far as you know, they were only talking about a plan and not making actual plans. Now you know why those bitches were so fucking silent.

"Well, well, well, if it isn't 703," Wooyoung called, snickering to himself as he sidled up next to you who was waiting for the elevator. Usually, you wouldn't mind the younger guy because you had been used to his voice. How can you not? The first day you saw him was when he moved in for college. You had just finished your first week of internship and he had accidentally bumped into you. Literally, he dropped a thermos on your foot which prompted you to cry in front of a very confused and panicked 17 year old Wooyoung. Though he was unsure, he sat his boxes aside and just sat there while listening to you rant about how he shouldn't grow up, get out of college, and just go back to his parents' house because working and being independent was so overrated. Rather than focusing on how you were spewing your guts to a complete stranger, Wooyoung was more focused on why a 20 year old sounded like she had gone through 4 divorces and a public scandal.

It was odd how you were able to be vulnerable with him and it was even more odd to find him in front of your door that night with two packs of ramyeon and a huge grin on his face. He confessed he had bothered approximately every apartment on floors 1-6 and half of floor 7 looking for you because he wanted to make sure you were okay. You should've been embarrassed that a guy who's practically a child had to come and comfort you but you didn't. He made you feel comfortable.

Unlike now.

"Go away Wooyoung, I'm not in the mood," you sighed, shifting the grocery bags in your hands slightly. Wooyoung didn't listen, however, instead, he leaned his shoulder on the wall and ducked his head to meet your eyes which you avoided, "I thought you would've been busy with your friends tonight or something. I had to rethink of a new plan to make a move on you!" He teased.

The mention of your friends and hanging out, your blood boiled and your grip on the grocery bags tightened. "Wooyoung," you warned, jaw tightening as you felt your eyeballs burn. "I'm just saying, I thought my sexy little noona would've been out and about," he grinned innocently (despite the words he used).

You dropped your grocery bags and turned around, making way to the stairs. "Whoah, wait!" Wooyoung grabbed your hand and turned you around, "What's wrong?" He said with furrowed eyebrows, genuinely confused as to why you acted that way. He was even more confused when you yanked your hand off his grip and saw tears welling in your eyes.

"You can seriously shove whatever it is you think of me down your throat, Wooyoung," was all you said before you trodded upstairs to your floor.

It was a mistake for you to do that because once you finally made it, you were panting and the blurriness in your eyes was not only caused by your tears but also from the exercise. So you weren't sure if the sight of Wooyoung in front of your apartment was real or a hallucination. He even had your groceries in his hands.

"Go home, Woo," you sighed, sniffling as you fumble for your keys in your bag. This time he wasn't as vocal, only shrugging until you opened your door and slipped in together with you despite your clear expression of annoyance but you still let him in. You both were silent as you removed your shoes and settled your things, Wooyoung helping put things away which was how he noticed you buying your favourite cereal and milk, a comfort "dinner" for whenever you felt like your life was on the verge of tipping into pure chaos and you just don't have any time and energy to give a fuck about crap like dinner. "I'm not going to entertain you, Woo," you stated, voice cracking slightly as tears welled up in your eyes again all the while you tried to busy yourself by putting things away.

You hadn't noticed it initially but when you turned to kick him out again, you saw him with a bowl of your cereal and a soft smile on his face. "If what you need is me out, then I will go but not until I see you eat," he stated, putting the bowl on your counter and sauntering over to pull you so he could sit you down to eat.

In your head, you knew how ashamed you were for needing Wooyoung who's around 3 years younger than you to take care of you. But it felt nice to be tended to for once. Amongst your friends who were around the same age as or older than you, you were always expected to keep things together because they don't really have the time or energy to deal with what they labelled as "personal bullshit". Or maybe they're just a bunch of bitches dressed in fake prada and cheap jewellery that were slowly turning green with each wear. Wooyoung had once expressed how he doesn't like your friends because of what they were saying about you to your face even in front of him who was a stranger to them but they didn't seem to care. Heck, they seem to enjoy being annoying, catty bitches.

Thinking that you weren't going to eat in front of him, Wooyoung smiled and squeezed your hand once before turning to leave but this time, you stopped him. You grabbed him by the arm and with quivering lips, you looked up at him, "D-do you think y-you can accompany me eat on the couch? I-I think I'm gonna need company," you asked.

Without hesitation, Wooyoung nodded and pulled you into a gentle and warm hug. "Can this 'company' include watching A Man Called Otto? Because San watched it without me and he cried so I wanted to know if the movie was really THAT sad or if he was just being a bitch," he pulled away just as he heard you chuckling and felt you nodding, "Only if you have a bowl of cereal with me."

As you watched Wooyoung busy himself with getting his own bowl of cereal and making both of you comfortable on your couch, you realized that it was stupid of you to have been upset to be left behind by your supposed friends. Sure, it sucks to be singled out and heard how your friends make you sound so lame. But honestly? Being in your own home with Wooyoung loudly commenting about the movies as you spoon cereal and milk into your mouth, you wouldn't have it any other way.

network :

@cultofdionysusnet @sandsofire @kflixnet @pirateeznet

taglist :

@kodzukein @phenomenalgirl9 @skzatzloveismonsterous @memorymonster @surveilenceysystem @dreamlesswonder86 @maddiebabyxoxo @imababywolf @do-you-actually-care @marievllr-abg @ilsedingsx @wasteitonserendipity @bbymatz @noonaishere @honeyhwaaa @ateezourstars @yoonjunshi @yoongiigolden @camillelafaye @charreddonuts @kpopnightingale @starryunho @atinct @mirror-juliet @hyuckilstan @jayb17 @kpoplover718 @haatohwa @x-bluee @erinaimeexx @blackb3ll @mingiholic @angelicyeo @vampcharxter @meowmeowminnie @marvelous-llama @kawennote09 @hongjoong-lovebot @stopeatread @spooo00oky @jwnghyuns @cutie-wooyo @asjkdk @shinotani @aestheticsluut @mingiberrii

@chloepurpy

[bluespiritshonour]

Another thing I've been muling over: a complain I've seen about Maiko is that she keeps him from going on the right path—and... I agree.

For Mai, Zuko's well-being is her sole concern and the rest of the world could crash and burn and that's... Okay?

Realistically speaking, your support system should NOT be one person. One thing I love about ATLA is that (despite romance writing not being one of it's strong points) the lack of ships that follow the tropes.

Kataang is not an archetype. Neither is Sukka or Maiko.

Having your support system be just your romantic partner isn't healthy (for them or for you) or realistic. But most romances do that and until I watched ATLA it didn't occurred to me that that's not a good thing.

ATLA and Maiko are very realistic in that Zuko needs both the Gaang and Mai. He needs the Gaang to hold him accountable for every shitty little thing he did—and he needs Mai there to keep from spiraling and self-destruction.

Zuko and his uncle were de facto conquerors, so they had to do much more to redeem themselves than Mai and Ty Lee (mere soldiers, but NOT innocent) had to.

Zuko had to work hard to earn the Gaang's forgiveness (personal opinion: he should've grovelled more and he should've been called out on his racism against Aang) and Uncle Iroh reconquered Ba Sing Se in the name of it's people.

They both did reparations to the very people they hurt. And their crimes were much more direct and vicious compared to Mai and Ty Lee’s.

As someone not as responsible as them, Mai and Ty Lee's redeeming themselves was at the Boiling Rock.

And well, when Zuko is Firelord right after the war—he would be paying for the crimes of his ancestors. He needs the Gaang there to keep from acting like he did with Katara pre-Southern Raiders (everyone else seems to have forgiven me!) and he needs Mai to keep himself from actually spiralling into self-destruction and undeserved guilt (Sozin's and Ozai's faults aren't his even if he's paying for it and someone needs to remind him that)

So, yeah. He needs them both for different things.

As for Mai, her conflict was that she was never allowed to express herself. And loving Zuko made up for that—she finally stands up for something she believes in (not in the cause, but in Zuko) and Zuko didn't even have to do anything beside exist. He didn't “fix her.”

Although, again I do have the the complain that Mai has to do a lot of emotional labour for him and if you really are gonna shit on Maiko: it's Zuko who needs to step up, not Mai—well, Mai tried to “fix him” and she couldn't!

That's so important to me!—I’m tired of girl fixes boy narrative. And she couldn't fix him because only he could fix himself and Mai herself is used to making the best out of a situation and being selfish/passive/choosing the path of least resistance. She tried to do to Zuko what worked for her (or maybe didn't, considering she was coping)—and well—later when Zuko's Firelord it'll be Mai who keeps him from harming himself.

Zuko needs both to be balanced out.

He needs multiple people to act as support system and that's both healthy and realistic. Mai isn't everything and neither should she be.

I know what the comics did; don't bring them up here. It's not about the comics.

[sweetpumpkinpieinwithcoffee]

A Void of His Own

Summary: Bucky had a great past, a great childhood, really. It could have been so much worse. Or so he liked to told himself.

Until he had to face it in his own Void.

Word Count: 1.6K

Warnings: This isn't fluff, this is trauma, trauma shared, depiction of death, violence, rape and torture. Proceed with caution.

Yes, apparently I do like torturing Bucky Barnes for whatever reasons.

Comments are open to give me your feedbacks ☺️

Truth is, Bucky had a great childhood. Not the greatest of them, not the easiest of them, but a good one. He was orphaned. Ok, yeah, this isn’t a great start BUT he was one of the lucky ones. Instead of living in shitty orphanages or being separated from his sister he had the chance to grow up with Steve. Steve and his sweet mother Sarah. Sarah with her sweet smiles, her passion for drawing and sweet pancakes. Sarah, who made it perfectly clear that Bucky was as much her son as Steve was. 

Bucky had a great childhood. 

He remembered laughter, drawings and running across a street. He could still smell the tea his sister would make every time he was sick and that would make him instantly better. Still remember the softness of Steve before the serum. How they were already joined at the hips. Could still remember their games, their love for cinema and their excitement for the future. 

Then there was the war. 

That was less funny and he was still blurry about this part of his life. He remembered his pride of putting on his uniform for the first time. Remembered the pride in Sarah’s gaze that first time he came home. How frightened she was too. How she asked if he really wanted to join the army. Yes, he did. He remembered how all the ladies had piled up after he put some muscle on. Remembered his pride of taking Kitty to the fair and showing how they could have a future. And maybe he wasn’t so proud of knowing now he had never meant to keep this promise to her. 

He remembered leaving Steve. 

Remembered leaving his sister. Not knowing she would die a year later of influenza just like Sarah had. 

He remembered missing her funeral. 

He hadn’t meant to. He was on the front. Never got the letter informing him of her passing. He was already between Nazis’hands at the time. Already being tested by HYDRA. He never found out until seventy years later. When no one could point to his sister’s grave. Steve had to call some people to find it. It was a small little thing, almost disappearing under dead leaves and moss. The writing cracked. No one had paid any attention to it during Steve and his missing periods. He couldn’t forgive that to himself. The first time he saw the grave he cried so much Natasha had to hold him. Steve, only frozen by his distress, Sam, at loss for words. 

He couldn’t really place when the Winter Soldier’s years of his life began. Maybe right after he fell from that train? When he realized Steve wouldn’t catch him. Maybe the moment his arm was removed and the metal one was placed. Maybe it was the first time they shocked his brain with electricity. 

Bucky could still feel the current going through him, the electrical movement freezing the blood in his vein, his teeths chattering, his eyes hurting him so much he thought they would jump out of their sockets. He could still remember the smell of his own flesh rotting under the burn of the intervention. Still feel the rope keeping him tied down to his bed. Sometimes, when the attack was too violent he could also remember the taste of his own vomit after a particularly hard scrapping of his mind. 

That wasn’t the bad part though. 

 Truth is, he could also remember the ice gripping him. He could still remember the feeling of going to sleep because of the cold. The liquid in his vein turning him off just for the criogenizacion. And even then he wasn’t completely asleep, only out. The darkness coming for him. Sending him in every place he had been for a mission. Making him remember every asset he had killed. Showing him their last expression before his bullet hit them. It haunted him, while the darkness was here there was no escaping. 

And then there was light. 

Only to be pushed down to another mission. Another person to kill. Another life to end. Another picture to add to his museum of memorabilia. The cycle never ending. At some point, even alive he wasn’t conscious. 

The days passed and he was either in the ice or killing. Decades went on with him having no conscience of it. The assets were all the same. Just one little case to tick. 

Sometimes the mission evolved, asking more torture from him. Once he just had to assault a target. Another one, he had to turn someone's life upside down. Making himself into something he wasn’t, taking everything from them. Their friends, their coworkers, their family, their loved ones, their dignity. Making them do things they would have never thought about. Making them beg to end it. He was very efficient. 

And then, the Red Room program was turned down. Russia didn’t need their Winter Soldier anymore. But Bucky was still here. Still knowing too much or nothing at all, they never really understood what kind of monster he had evolved into, how his mind was still working. They gifted him to an oligarch in need of some distraction. They taught him his secret password and they broke him to his needs. Making him do anything he wanted. 

Bucky tried to not go over those years. Tried to not envision what was still in the somber corners of his mind.  The late Winter Soldier was always trying to push down those memories, to shove them deep within him, try to remember that this man hadn’t taken every tenderness out of him. That he was still able to feel normally, to crave some intimacy that wasn’t tied to punishment and binding. 

In all those years, he remembered Natasha. Too young to be treated that badly. Too young to be enrolled. Too young for the torture she went through. Remembered how, the young woman she had been, had shown him kindness. Him, the Winter Soldier. The Ghost Story she had been told about. How they broke her again and again through a program which should never have existed. He remembered their first kiss. The risk of it all. How it had brought him back to consciousness, how all their moments had been stolen. The hiding, the secrecy of their attraction. How they made him beat her for disobedience. How they made him shoot her for being messy on a mission. And they hadn’t found out about them. 

Yet. 

It was worse than torture seeing her being pushed to the operation room again. Worse than torture to hear her screams, because of course they let her suffer and never put her to sleep. Shocking her every time she loses consciousness to bring her back. To let her feel the pain of the scalpel ruining her body. They kept him there to watch. To listen. To memorize her pale, drenched, barely breathing. Barely alive. To watch her being thrown like dead meat to those male students craving any part of a woman. Making him watch. 

It was her turn then. 

He thought he had it better. Beaten he was, starved too. But he was used to it. Degraded too. She had to watch. Sometimes forced to by machine keeping her awake while they were using his body. His mind was only focusing on her. On how he had wished he could have shielded her from this. He watched her screaming, begging for him to be released. Watch her trying to make any kind of bargain for his life. Watch her being denied everything. He might have lost any sense of his body but his heart… his heart. Treatrous heart still beating for her. Still breathing for her. Until he was shoved back under the ice. Until they scrapped his mind clean. 

He remembered the bullet through her. The first one in the snow. She had changed. She was trying to do good. To rinse some of the blood she had on her hands. He showed no mercy for the Avengers she was. Shot her a second time in Boston.

Steve. 

Steve was his slap back to consciousness. He had started fighting when Steve reminded him of Sarah. Had reminded him of their childhood. Of their shared past. Of the future they had envisioned for each other. But it was too late. Far too late to reach it. He could chose to save him but he couldn’t save himself. 

So he did the only thing he could think about: he ran away. Leaving those few things he knew behind him. Hid in Romania for so long he lost track of time again. Ignored Steve reaching for him. Made a shitty life trying to scrap anything from his memory. Tried to make them make some sense. Instead he was just responsible for the imprisonment of so many good people. The death of many others. He had to go back to the ice. Before they found finally something to make him a better man. 

“You are a good man.” She had told him once. “Not really, no. But only you understand that.” He had answered. 

She was on his side. She wasn’t. She helped. She was punished for it. She disappeared from Earth. She came back. She fight. She died. He mourned. 

He had to shake the memory out of him seeing Yelena and Bob in the distance. 

“Are you alright?” 

“Yeah. I have a great past.” He said about his own void. 

[dystopiandramaqueen]

let's redeem and forgive the pretty skinny white women and make a bad guy out of the Chinese man that grew up in poverty, who was abused by his father and left by his mother and still manged to be a kind selfless person

okay got it 👍🏾

I was reading the other day that when you make art-

There are the parts you WANT to say.

And parts you say without meaning to.

I forget what season it was...3? There was so much violence toward black and brown bodies that it really upset alot of us. Oldschool American KKK style violence.

And again remember, this isn't Margaret Atwood's original content. This is shit the writers made up, to stretch the story out for 6 seasons for money.

They could have written anything. S2 could have opened like the MOVIE ended- with June safe, off the grid, sending love letters to Nick. Fucking imagine that. A logical continuation of the original story.

But instead, June graphically lynched that Martha, then bullied another black woman to death, who was shot and dragged to the tune of a happy song.

I think the white male show runner was trying to be edgy? Shocking?

But what he was really showing was what HE wants to see on TV. Violence toward women, especially black and brown women, set to his favorite tunes.

We confronted him about it online- and he said a couple things in interviews. "My art may be too smarty pants for people." (calling us stupid) and "I can't be racist, Moira and Luke are Black!" He completely refused to listen to feedback or respond to it. Said we were overreacting. Typical patriarchal, white response when concerns are raised by women.

Serena is an example of a white feminist. Just like the women who voted for Trump, thinking "He'll hurt OTHER ppl, but not me, so it's ok."

In the book? Serena's a miserable old crone. With a CANE! Not attractive. Not sexual anymore. She took away women's rights, including her own. She was a fool, and she suffered and wasted away. Serena's suffering was a WARNING.

The show runners made Serena decades younger and stunningly beautiful. Completely changing the character's identity and meaning. They then gave her big huge story lines, when in the book she was an afterthought.

Think of all the adventures Nick and June could have had while Serena was dancing at balls. Smiling and laughing, or crying her big pretty tears when she suffered consequences she dreamed up for others. I literally couldn't care less. If these writers wrote for Star Wars we'd be watching Vader and Palpatine slow dancing at imperial balls and house hunting together. Literally no one wants to watch the villans thrive.

We also suspect they may have a personal attraction to the actress. That would explain alot. She is beautiful and talented. I don't contest that.

None of my issue is with the actors. They're all amazing. Like Max said, they're hired to act, and they did a fantastic job.

My issue has always been with the warping and alteration of Atwood's narrative.

It was really simple. Nick and June's love was supposed to win.

But what we got was the maker's personal preferences, attractions, inherent biases, taste for violence against women and POC... these are the things that came out unintentionally when they made this art.

It's a bad look, but it's not mine.

That's what's helping me heal.

Not my circus, not my monkeys. Not my shitty story. Not my fault.

When my grandkids ask why I wrote 42 stories about some old book I'll say "The story was important to me. I was June's age when I read it. It was about a woman just like me. A TV show bought the rights to the story and ruined it. Got it wrong. All of us who wrote fic for that show were trying to preserve the heart of the story like they did in Farenheit 451. Fascists burn books. Change history. But the people can remember and retell the originals. That is why fanfiction exists.

In the end- we didn't win.

Rich white men bought the rights to The Handmaid's Tale, but ended up making Serena's So Called Life. It's the photo negative of the book.

But hey at least the owners are richer! Plus, I'm really glad they have something to beat off to now. Maybe they'll be satisfied and leave other feminist classics alone.

Luckily, now we can reclaim our time and energy. This sense of injustice? We can turn it away from screens, and out into our communities. We don't have time to be fighting over a stupid fucking TV show anymore.

It's happening. Just like she said it would.

[creedslove]

JOEL TAKING CARE OF YOU WHEN YOU HAVE PROBLEMS WITH YOUR MOM 🍓 - HEADCANONS

No outbreak!Joel Miller x f!reader

A/N: this is so personal it hurts, my relationship with my mother is terrible and today was one of the days she pushed me to the edge and I thought I was going to explode with negative feelings until I broke down and I sobbed. Also, just proving my point that my life problems would decrease by half if I were married to Joel Miller 😢

TW: Shitty mom

• Joel knows damn well the reason why people often tell mean mother-in-law jokes or why their reputation is so bad; and the truth is that it is not even because of the way your mom treats him, but because of how she treats you

• it just infuriates Joel at the same time it breaks his heart to see what she does to you; the way she's so manipulative and mean, the way she acts innocent after saying the worst things a mom could say to a daughter and pretend she didn't really mean that way, or you are overreacting

• and it absolutely shatters his heart to see that even after all the emotional pain she puts you through, he sees how you somehow look for her approval affection, no matter if he has already told you to ignore her, he knows it's deeper than that, it's just the result of a lifetime of emotional damage she's done

• being unable to help you more effectively, he does what he can: he holds you, he soothes you, dries your tears and reminds you you are more than what your mom says, he reminds you he knows you are telling the truth and that you aren't just overreacting, he knows that whenever she says "it wasn't that bad" it was indeed that bad and whenever she insists on saying that whatever traumatic experience she caused you she doesn't remember because it never happened, he is aware it left a deep scar on your mental health

• and even if Joel thinks this is not very effective at all, he has no idea of how precious and important this is to you, because it validates your feelings, it shows you you aren't alone, it shows that you are respected as an adult and overall as a person, it shows you that he loves you, the good kind of love, not the supposed kind of love that burns your mom insists on giving you

• Joel doesn't give a shit if your mom says she has anxiety or whatever other crap she uses as an excuse, no mental problem in the world gives anyone the right to treat another person, let alone a daughter, the way she treats you; it doesn't matter if she wants to pass as mentally unstable, he can see right through it, she is only unstable when it's convenient for her, so that leaves Joel with another adjective for her: cruel

• he knows your relationship with her has ups and downs, sometimes you are able to spend the whole day together shopping or just hanging out and having fun, but there are days she makes a living hell out of your mind

• and even if Joel isn't the most educated guy in psychology, he knew it wasn't healthy to bottle up these feelings like you often did, because sometimes you would explode

• and today was one of those days: something small suddenly became a huge thing and before you knew it, your mom was already screaming at you as if you were a child, making you feel worse and worse and all that rage you had bottled up exploded, because you were so tired of having to walk on eggshells, never knowing if you would have an easy day or if you'd have your mental health ruined again

• so when Joel got home from work, he immediately noticed something was off; you were sniffling and trying to hide your red puffy eyes, you were so sad and you'd completely lost your appetite and the moment he questioned you what had happened - having a pretty good idea of what you were going to say, you simply broke down and sobbed

• and at that moment he didn't think of anything else other than holding you into his arms, his body was so warm and comfortable and you felt relieved to have a grip on him, to feel his muscles, his beard, to smell his scent, everything reminding you of what a loving person really was

"shh it's okay darling, you'll be fine, you don't have to tell me what happened, it's gonna be okay, I'm here and I believe you"

• Joel whispered against your ear and simply didn't move until you broke the hug, seemingly to calm down for a while; and not only that, while you took the relaxing shower he suggested you to, he made you tea, because cooking might not be his strongest suit, but you take such good care of him, he wants to at least pay you back a small portion of it

• even after shower, he can tell the tears are easily going to spill at any minute, so he decides not to talk about it, instead, he suggests watching something to distract you, it doesn't matter to him if it's a movie, a tv show or that low quality soap opera you found on Netflix you swear you only watch it ironically but you got too invested in it, he just wants to see you smile for a bit

• cuddles all the way while you both watch tv, even if you're not paying attention because honestly why does he like to watch cars exploding so much? but the important thing is that you love Joel and you're so thankful for everything he does for you

• and to finally finish a terrible day, you both make love, not fucking, but making love. It's slow, gentle, sexy and intimate. Exactly what you needed, a full dose of Joel to make you feel better ❤️

____

[burningcheese-merchant]

Its the cycle of History. Civilizations rise up. He watches them thrive. They eventually fall. Witnessing an expected event over and over with no Change can be desensitizating. After all, there's no reason in madness! (Timekeeper being in a similar boat of boredom only satiated by causing problems on purpose in roundabout ways for lols)

One might say that all he does with Destruction gives him a sense of control. Finally he can play HIS way. Speeding up things so he doesn't end up getting attached. Even better if he can be destroyed in turn some day. The combo of adrenaline and spices make for quite the addiction :3 If it turns out he sent spiced out cookies to Mystic then not even his supposed friend is safe from bull

It's rather interesting with what we've seen in Mystic Flour as the first Beast release. Girlie cared too much til she had no more f to give. BS destroys everything before he could prolly care. Can't wait to see Smilk spiraling into silly[tm] from knowing too much! Time to crave tragedy!!

I know, brother. Trust me. I've made a post addressing this before, and... Well. What I work on and study irl has an awful lot to do with history as a subject lol. I really need you wll to believe me when I say I understand the cycle of history. I know it so well, it hurts. It's part of why I'm such a cynic irl. I know exactly how awful history and people are. I really, truly do.

And you have a point, yeah. It could be a play for control. For things to be the way Burning Spice wants them to be, if only once. Sort of like what I suggested in that post: just cut out the middleman and end it all yourself. Be the "solution" to the "problem", before the problem even actually happens. It's a valid theory. Certainly an interesting one.

It's still bullshit at the end, though. Same with Mystic Flour's reasons for turning bad. Same as all the others' reasons probably will be.

Idk I think I'm just... tired at this point. History is a subject that is very near and dear to my heart for many reasons, and has been my whole life. In studying history, you learn a lot about people and life and the human condition. And part of that is hearing every single excuse for doing evil deeds possible. And in hearing Mystic Flour's backstory, and even Burning Spice's (how little we actually see), all I heard were all those same excuses all over again. And I got sick of hearing them a long time ago.

I'm not sure I necessarily see what Mystic Flour did as "caring too much until she had nothing left to give". I see it, I see what you're saying and it's valid, I just... it reads more as outright naivety to me. Girlie acts like she's never heard of greedy people before. "There were people who wished for selfish things and wanted my powers for themselves" uh yeah lol. That happens. There are people like that out there. You should know better than to think otherwise. You should also know better than to just go ahead and grant every single person's wishes. It inevitably leads to greed and entitlement. But regardless, that's no fucking reason to want to wipe out all of man/cookiekind. That's fucking stupid. Some shitty people took advantage of me, therefore every single person on earth should lose their individuality and die. Fuck you, you miserable bitch (I know it's more complicated than that, I'm just distilling it because MF legitimately does irritate me as a character lol)

"I'm bored" oh man. Oh jeez. That's the worst thing that could ever happen to someone, now isn't it. You're so bored, it seems, that you can't even be bothered to explain why or how. Are you tired of building something up and caring about it, only for it to be destroyed, over and over again? Did you lose someone important to you while enforcing that cycle? Are you overwhelmed by the burden of the responsibility you were given without choice, and thus slowly driven to madness? All of the above? None? It doesn't matter because those are stupid, too. And they're rendered stupid because you use them as an excuse to hurt people that have nothing to do with anything. "I destroy things to regain a semblance of control over my life and to prevent attachment" cool motive, still murder. If you (and MF, too) are that bothered by the way things are then just fucking kill yourself. Why not? End your oh so terrible suffering instead of inflicting it on everyone else. But they won't, and neither did the other Beasts, because they are all fundamentally dumb, selfish, hypocritical cowards.

Or, how about this: ABDICATE. You don't want the power and responsibility? Give it to somebody else. You don't want to help uphold balance? Fine, that's fair. LET SOMEONE ELSE DO IT, THEN. Have the humility and integrity to admit you're not cut out for the job instead of doing this heinous shit. The Ancients worked for the power and accepted the responsibility that came with it. That's why they're better than you and always will be. They're not bummed out by immortality or the cycle of history or whatever else you want to cry about. They live their lives and do right by others and get the job done. It's obvious you can't, so just man up and step down. Or don't. Hoard the power and neglect the responsibility and be a blight on society instead of coming to terms with your own shortcomings. Because that's easier, isn't it? Being evil is the easy way out. That's why so many people are. Because they're too weak to try anything else.

That's all the Beasts were and continue to me, to me. Weak. They are right to be unhappy with whatever unfortunate circumstances befell them. They are right to resent their creators and the burden they bestowed upon them. But they are wrong to punish everyone else for it. It's selfishness. Weak moral and spiritual fiber. Congratulations, Mystic Flour, you've proven that your apathy is fake by trying so hard to get the Soul Jam back and wanting to steamroll everyone else's rights, thoughts and feelings with your own. Congratulations, Burning Spice, you're still perpetuating the cycle of history by being the exact same bloodthirsty tyrant as every single one before and after you. I've seen these clowns before, history is full of them. And they all start grating on you after a while lol.

Idk if any of this made sense. I think I'm just irritated with the Beasts (and with villains in general, maybe, to a degree) and your ask gave me an excuse to ramble semi-coherently about it lol. I nevertheless appreciate you telling me your thoughts. You have good and interesting ones. I wish you a wonderful New Year and a big basket full of delicious bonbons

[dontmixpaintinyourcoffee]

Rewatching Yellow Jacket, I can't help but really appreciate how the main trio are written, especially in regards to money. I feel like the easy way to go would be to have a story about greed, forgetting where you came from, ego, blah blah blah. That's the cliche cake you get from the ingredients set up in the first act. But I really, really love that they didn't go that way. Hannah doesn't want money for luxury. She won't say no to it, but her primary motivation is entirely about making Lex happy. There's no bullshit about how money can't buy happiness, because it kind of can. Not happiness directly, but it can sure as fuck buy security, stability, and resources. Ethan has never seen anything close to 100k in his life. And then what they do with a quarter of it is, objectively, irresponsible. Because they're still kids. What would be treated as frivolous in a less compassionate story is vital to these characters. They buy games and toys and ice cream, fill the house with arcade cabinets and a bounce house. Ethan gets so excited that he forgets to get a bed for himself and Lex, but he gets Hannah an extravagant water bed because he loves the kid with all his heart.

Lex has been working shitty minimum wage jobs since she was 16. She had to drop out of high school because she literally couldn't afford to not work for those 8 hours a day. She takes all the hours she can get, she sells whatever she can get her hands on, she takes the consequences onto herself, she takes the snide remarks, she takes the verbal abuse, she takes all of it because she refuses to let Hannah suffer the way Pam did. The hyper-awareness of money bleeds over to Hannah too, no matter how much Lex tries to protect her from it. She knows that a child should never have to worry about bills and medical expenses and if food is gonna be on the table tomorrow, and she doesn't want Hannah to feel the same anxieties that she does. But still, this kid, on her birthday, sees a tablet she could win, and her first thought is that she could sell it. Because fun is a luxury, and she knows it.

So Ethan blowing 25k on games and pizza and candy- it's not silly to them. It's not frivolous. He's giving them both, but especially Lex, the childhood that was taken from them. That was taken by late stage capitalism, and poverty, and a school system that let them slip through the cracks, and an abusive, negligent parent. It's not the most responsible thing in the world, but it's not about the games or the junk food. It's about the ability to eat the junk food and have time to play the games. It's about Lex not having to feel guilty for spending the day with her sister when she could be working. It's about being able to stay up late for Hannah's 15th birthday, because she doesn't have to take a shift the next day. It's about having the time and energy to study and pass the test without entirely burning herself out and hurting the people around her. It's about these three people finally, finally having the resources to feel real, safe, full joy in their lives, and more.

Thank you for joining me on this week's episode of Why This Scene Of Two Twenty-Somethings Sleeping In A Bounce House Made Me Cry, and now back to Dan with the weather-