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esotericbluntbaby · 26 days ago

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musician!hamzah x reader headcannons (sfw!)

-in the studio, you shower your boyfriend with immense support. in return, probably 75% of his earnings go to you. he isn't really a "serious" musician, just someone who decided to try it out just for shits and giggles. however, you treat him in the studio like he's the next drake or kendrick. expensive dates, perfumes, clothes, you name it; he got it for you. you deserve it for listening to so many takes of him saying the same thing over and over again.

- when he's producing, you're on his lap the entire time. he takes his thumb and rubs circles on your thigh as he creates, squeezing every now and then. he whispers in your ear asking for your opinion on the beat he just made.

"what's your thoughts, pretty?"

"i like it. i think you should add some more bass, though, maybe add it right after the adlib?"

"why are you so smart? my musical genius girlfriend over here is so smart. why didn't i think of that?" he says as he kisses the crevice where your neck meets your shoulder.

- you stay with him out of the booth as he's recording vocals, mostly bringing your schoolwork or a hobby of yours to do. he enjoys your company even when you can't be together in the same room. he stares as you through the window when there's a lyric that he wrote about you or reminds him of you, smirking a crooked grin as you blush.

- he writes you a couple love songs that are soft and gentle. he learned acoustic guitar, since half the time freddie dredd type beats don't match the vibe he wants to give off. he sees you as his angel and worships you like you're a higher being, so he wants the music he makes for you to be as soothing as you are to him. sometimes, you sit on his lap and strum the guitar as his fingers hold each chord. during the moment, hamzah wants your souls to intertwine during the vulnerability of playing music together.

"y'know, i think it's moments like this where i fall in love with you all over again."

"hamzah, i just fucked up the rhythm like 5 times."

"so? you look so focused; it's cute."

- though he writes you love songs just for you to listen, you're always mentioned in his songs that are released to the public. there's always something that his listeners simply know was about you, from him describing your hair or him mentioning a quirk of yours. you find it so endearing that his artistry will always have bits and pieces of you in it.

- if he has to focus on recording, you'll drop off lunch and eat with him before leaving to go do something of your own like errands or simply hanging out with friends. each time you come into the studio, especially when he's recording his vocals, his face immediately changes from a focused, stone expression to one of excitement and love.

- sometimes, he asks you to record some vocals that he can use as a backup vocals. even if it's just an adlib or a certain noise he asks you to create, he'll always have you do it. no matter who he's working with, he'll always like the way you add a little oomph to his track.

"hamz, i sound so stupid doing this. i've just been making the same noise for like 12 takes and it still doesn't sound right."

"nah, i got the final cut like 7 takes ago. i just wanted to see how long you'd do this for without realizing."

"literally fuck you," you joke, rolling your eyes and laughing.

he kisses your cheek, "i love you, baby!"

- whenever he performs live, even if it's just at a houseparty, you're always his biggest supporter. you'd stare at him from where you are, most likely hanging out with his friends as he raps, as your eyes glisten and gleam at your boyfriend. to which, he winks at you after realizing how cute his girlfriend is when she's supporting him. after he's done, he immediately ventures to find you, kissing you on the forehead and hugging you as soon as he spots you.

- you are his muse. simply looking at you allows him to create, which is why he loves you as much as he does.

authors note!

sigh musician!hamzah will be the death of me. can you tell i've been listening to six feet on repeat for the past like week? enjoy babes :p

#hamzah x reader #hamzahthefanatasticxreader #hamzah fluff #hamzah fic #hamzah x y/n #hamzah imagines #hamzahthefantastic #hamzahheadcannons #hamzahthefantasticheadcannons #slushy noobz

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ataraxiaspainting · 1 year ago

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The End.

Yan Kafka x F Reader.

Synopsis: Kafka always sits in the front row, despite being part of the show herself.

Warnings: Yandere themes, stalking, thoughts of violence, manipulation, and unhealthy relationships.

Word Count: 1k.

Ten Songs Like This Piece:

Breezeblocks by alt-J

Waltz No. 2 by Dmitri Shostakovich (feat. The Dixie String Quartet)

Swan Lake by HAUSER

Claus by Los Tres

Doin’ Time by Lana Del Ray

Lie by BTS

She’s My Collar by Gorillaz (feat. Kali Uchis)

Cha Cha by Freddie Dredd

Michelle by Sir Chloe

MONTERO (Call Me By Your Name) - SATAN’S EXTENDED VERSION by Lil Nas X

*~*~*~*

The roses are wilting.

It was destiny, fate. Such pretty things never last forever, after all, even if the entire universe wished otherwise. One way or another, they are meant to fall, like how the sun drops below where anyone can see it, being replaced with the moon, and vice versa. They fall deep, deeper than hell itself, and no one can pick them back up, unless one would be inclined to make a pact with the devil himself, doing horrendous things in his name. But Kafka has already committed such sins, so why deny doing so any longer? It is who she is. It is who you are, to be entangled in her lies and be forced to dance and to sing and to act.

With two gloved hands, she picks up the vase, spilling out the moldy water and the dying roses, the roses she got for you after you sang so well at the opera house, looking so beautiful, into the trash can underneath your makeup vanity, where little clumps of hair and emptied products always meet their end.

She’ll get you a new bouquet later. A new vase too. Perhaps instead of white roses you would like red ones instead? Kafka knows that this vase is cheap too, from one of your fellow divas, whose high notes are not as high as yours and her costumes not as elaborate or as elegant as yours.

“I honestly don’t see why you even try to befriend any of them, darling. They are all envious harpies. They can’t hold a candle to anything you do.”

You are not here, but Kafka’s mouth always has a mind of its own, so it spins lies even when your delicate, lovely ears are not in the general vicinity. Not that she minds it. But yours is what she is quite more so than trifles with, because yours is carefully controlled by her and her alone, and you, as always, don’t get a say. It’s a sort of hypocrisy, Kafka thinks, but she doesn't mind that either.

If she has to, she’ll even sew your mouth shut, your ears shut, your eyes shut, if that is what it takes for you to stay with her. She doubts it would ever come to that, though, because you are always too fragile and too trusting to tell the difference between an Iago and a Desdemona. But the latter role would much better suit you, her little flower, her princess.

You are so precious, but also a treasure prying eyes will always want to touch and see and hear. Kafka would, in all honesty, love to cut their hands and tongues off, if it did not ruin the carefully crafted image she made just for you. Maybe later, though, when all the stage lights are off.

“Lady Macbeth, hmm?” She murmurs.

She disagrees with the role you were given entirely. But, you were not one to stand up for yourself, so Kafka let it go.

“You really ought to leave this business soon, dearest.” Kafka looks around, her arms crossed, not impressed with the room you were given in the slightest. “You can always just come with me.” She meant it. “Imagine all the sights you would see. All the food you would eat. All the gifts I would be so happy to give you. All the hugs and kisses you would receive from me. Everything… just think about it.”

She could imagine it herself. It is not hard, really, for the mind to reject all sense of logic and bow down to the whim of what is known as human emotions, mortal joys, woes, desires, wants, and needs. She could imagine sitting you on her lap as the ship jumps to the next world she will have to visit, telling you stories of the past, present, and future, as you look on with amazement. You don’t do that anymore, now. She would do anything to see it come back. She would steal a crown and place it on your head, though you having the genuine article does not make you any stronger. If anything, perhaps it would make you weaker to her whims.

“Imagine that…” She sighs, closing her eyes as she smiles. “We can go to Penacony. Your dreams would come true there if I cannot make them true myself. You can sleep on beds worth more than this entire opera house. If only you would let me. I know it would make you happy. I know it would make me happy. So why wouldn’t it make you?”

She would listen to your ultimate pains, and your ultimate wishes, and act accordingly. She loved you. You will too, again. It is only a matter of time, isn’t it? Yes, Kafka thinks, it is fate.

…

Kafka always sits in the front row of the theater.

It does not matter whether or not she purchased the tickets for it, the seat, or the show soon to come to fruition. No one dares talk back to her, even security. She finds comfort in that. No one gets in the way of her having the chance to see you. Better yet, no one else sits in the front row when she is present.

So, she watches, one of her legs crossed over the other, her eyes never blinking. During interludes she likes to adjust her makeup accordingly, painting on another shade of crimson to her lips. Art comes in many forms, after all.

Kafka told you that once. As always, you listened dutifully as she taught you to be.

She taught you many things, not just that. She taught you how to read constellations. She helped you learn her vocabulary in the books she gave you, often long fairytales or poems. She preferred it that way when you used to be so eager to have someone be friendly to you and not want to simply use you for their own amusement, not wanting to throw you out of the opera house altogether.

The opera house may rot after it goes up in flames, in the future, if things go her way as it always does, but she’ll stay to watch it all, to take you in as you cry and as she shushes you. She’ll be happy. Maybe you will be too, for her. It matters how good your performance is, if you even want to act anymore, after all.

The lights dim, and she shows her pearl-white teeth as she grins.

#author aya #yandere #yandere x reader #kafka x reader #yandere kafka x reader #yandere kafka #yandere honkai star rail x reader #yandere honkai star rail #yandere hsr #yandere hsr x reader #honkai star rail x reader #hsr x reader

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raffe156 · 2 years ago

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Playing Favourites

Pairing - Price X MC (Tank) F!reader

Summary - Little fluff drabble that is set the morning after Spoils of war

A/N - Just a quick little thank you and something for you guys to remember its not all doom and gloom for these two! Well it is for the next few chapters but this is set after all that haha also I fully acknowledge Rudy and Alejandro being an item end of :)

I really appreciate all the recent feedback and asks! Please keep em coming! It only spurs me on haha

Warnings - Under 18+ DNI, angst, Smut, (If you squint) Language,fluff, Age gap Relationship, Price (41) reader (Tank, 26),domestic fluff

Tags: @irnbru32 @shuttlelauncher81 @mildlyhopeless @mentallynot-here @deadbranch @soapyghost

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the Call of duty characters - Only Tank, Luke, Dredd and Mckinley

Masterlist link here

Price woke to an empty bed, which wouldn’t have normally bothered him at all, but that was before you.

He stretched, his hand finding the warmth you had left, he buried his face on your side of the pillow you shared most nights, the smell of your skin filled his head. He vaguely remembered you kissing him goodbye before you left to get back to your side of the base before everyone was fully awake. He could of happily gone back to sleep, but the sooner he got dressed the sooner he could be in your company again. As he got ready he thought about mentioning you two going on a date when back home, he was thinking about the places he could take you, trying to remember your favourite foods, he knew there wasn't much you didnt like! He remembered you liked the food he had cooked for you that time you came to stay for the weekend with Kyle a year ago, Price didnt like to think about that weekend very often, it had broken up your team, it made you into strangers torn apart, it was the start of a very bad year for all involved, a year he would rather put behind him, so he did or at least he tired.

**********

As he walked out into the main part of the base he couldn’t help scanning the huge bunker for your face, listening for your laugh. Which had to be his favourite sound, well that an when he had you in bed and did that thing you liked were he…

“John!”

He was caught of guard and pulled from his train of thought by Laswell calling him from across the base. She waved him over, he still took a few glances round looking for you, he would find you, he always did.

“Laswell, what can I do for you?”

“John, was starting to worry about you, it's 8am an I'm only just seeing you now?” Laswell cocked her eyebrow at him.

“Had a little lie in, needed it” he wasn’t lying.

Kate looked him up an down, he didn’t look tired if anything this was the best he had looked in a long time she had a sneaky suspicion a certain sergeant had something to do with it, but she kept that to herself. She just hoped that he knew what he was getting into.

“Fair enough, anyway we have a quick briefing later today with Colonel Shepherd, he just wants an update on things you know the drill” she started walking Price followed.

“No problem, who needs to be there, I’ll make sure to wrangle my lot” Price chucked wrangle was the perfect term.

“Just you will do, but if your guys can go meet Shepard’s team that would be great, little playdate” Kate laughed.

“Sure I’ll tell them to play nice”

Laswell smiled, Price looked distracted his mind was obviously somewhere else.

“Lost something John?” She knew what he was looking for, better yet who he was looking for.

“What? No…just wondering where my lot are actually, not checked in with them yet” he motioned for them to walk out onto the tarmac.

Laswell followed she had to hide the smirk, John Price was smitten.

As they walked out of the huge hanger doors, the hot sun in their eyes a yell came from over near the ATV’s. They both shot over a look in the direction it had come from.

Soap was soaked head to toe, his Mohawk flat to his head, jeans now a darker blue.

Where was his T-shirt Laswell thought? Before Price could question him, Kyle came running from behind one of the jeeps also missing his top and also soaked through!

“Haha where the hell is she?” Kyle was trying to catch his breath but his laughing made it difficult.

“Not a clue, but she’s messed me hair up!”

“Serves you right, you soaked her first! Hahaha” Kyle had set off laughing again.

Laswell spotted you first an instinctively pulled Price back a few steps as to not get caught in the crossfire.

You were ringing wet hair slicked back, white vest clingy to your chest, bad day not to wear a bra Laswell thought, but that was probably Soaps motive.

You launched the full bucket in the direction of the two topless men completely oblivious to your presence, in the commotion you grabbed two sponges hitting Kyle with one an Soap in the face with the other.

Before you could get away Soap grabbed you in a headlock pulling you to the now soaked ground a large puddle had formed, water splashed everywhere. You quickly gained the upper hand on soap an now had him in an armbar.

“This is what you get for being a perv! Tap out Mactavish”

“Not a chance lass, was worth it!! I’ll dry you off if you want!”

“Fat chance fairy liquid!”

As you two wrestled on the wet tarmac, Ghost grabbed the hose and started spraying you both like he was trying to break up a pair of fighting dogs, it didn’t stop either of you, if anything you got hold of each other even tighter, Kyle noticed Soap going slightly blue.

“RIGHT PACK IT IN!” Price’s voice boomed across the base causing you both to stop moving instantly.

“Let go of him Tank…” it was more a warning than a request. You did as you were told an released Soap from your grip, slapping him away when he tried to use you to push himself off the ground.

Kyle had gone silent looking at the ground, Soap looked to Ghost for help, who only sprayed him again in the face with the hose. You couldn’t meet Prices eyes so opted for the ground along with Kyle.

“What do you lot think this is a charity car wash?”

“We were just getting the truck clean an it’s so hot so we just…then Soap” Kyle started but was stopped by the ‘not now Kyle’ look from Laswell.

Price pinched the bridge of his nose, letting out a loud sigh when he looked up he noticed your now see through top it caused the blood to rush down to his crotch, even though he was your Captain and you weren’t in the privacy of your little bubble where he could openly admire you he was still a man, your top clung to your wet skin, nipples hard from the slight chill from being soaked and the way you were biting your lip like you knew you were in trouble caused a fire in him, he almost wanted to bend you over his knee there and then showing your arse the palm of his hand. But that would be more paper work than it was worth, no matter how badly he wanted to.

Price pulled his eyes from you to look at Kyle and Soap who had apparently started this, Price didn’t know wether to scold him or thank him.

“Go dry off, you lot are going to meet Commander Graves and the Shadow company later and I need you all to behave, think that's possible?” Price glared at each of you. But his eyes remained on you and you could feel the embarrassment crawling over your skin.You felt like a child being told off at school, what made is worse was how he had be harsher on you now, since Soap and Ghost had caught you two in the showers the other night. He couldn’t be seen going soft on you.

Soap had been on the sly tormenting you about favouritism and how even if you threw a grenade into a civilian camp Price would give you a slap on the wrist but at the same time kiss you on the forehead. It was usually followed with Soap doing a terrible impression of him saying “it’s ok kiddo, I’ll make this all go away!” He knew it riled you up an you always gave him the reaction he wanted. Ghost told him to knock it off an that if he didn’t he would happily tell Price that he does a fantastic impression of him. You appreciated Ghost for that, but you had a feeling he thought something not too dissimilar, but he would never voice it he respected Price too much. Was it always going to be like this?

Laswell nodded you off, a silent get going before he has to repeat himself.

“You have 25 minutes an if you are not ready believe me I will come find you myself” Price watched as the 3 of you walked away.

“I'll go make sure the lads don't start again Cap” Ghost followed behind Soap and Kyle. You stalked off to your side of camp. Price watched you for a few seconds, he hated this, hated having to act this way but he was still you Captain and there was still a job to be done, but he made a mental note to make it up to you later. He also wasn't blind to the look Laswell was giving him.

********

The meeting with Graves and the Shadows had gone ok, Graves seemed nice enough. You and Rudy had exchanged a few side glances at each other, but other than that all seemed good. It was now the early evening the sun setting over the base as you all gathered outside under a canopy, getting acquainted. Kyle spent most of the evening talking football with one of the shadows who was an Aston Villa fan so you didn't have him to talk to, Soap and Ghost were listening to Graves talk about the last ‘Assignment’ he had been on. Rudy had Alejandro and every now and again you caught a glimpse of something between them a slight smile or wink, it gave you butterflies. You liked the idea that they had each other and if your theory was right and they did, you wondered how they made it work the Colonel and his second in command?

“Tank? Can I see you for a minute?” Price was stood just outside the canopy you were all gathered under. Most of the chatting had stopped and all eyes were on you now as you nodded making your way over to your Captain who had started walking ahead you followed. As you passed him Alejandro gave you a soft smile.

It felt like you had been walking for ages in silence, the sky now an inky blue, you were well out into the desert, still on the base but far enough that no one could see or hear you. Great you thought no one to hear you getting told off.

Price stopped in front of two large rocks, he motioned you to sit down on one and he took the other, he didn't face you instead faced forward. As you sat down you noticed he was tapping his leg, something you had only seen him do when he was anxious which was never.

“Im sorry” Price blurted out.

“What for?”

“Shouting at you like that, I shouldn’t have…there was no need I just…”

“It’s ok, to be a fair we were acting like kids, Soap started it though Kyle told him not to, but he did it anyway and..”

Price cocked his eyebrow at you? You sighed realising you sounded like a kid now telling tales.

“It's fine really, you have to be harsh on me or else it is favouritism” you kicked the dirt under your feet.

“I don't want to be harsh on you Tank, I hate it I really do, that's why I think we should just come clean about us” Price looked up into the dark blue sky now littered with little lights. You looked at him shocked come clean? Was he serious? You jumped up and started to pace.

“You must be mad! Are you joking? Please say you are joking! They will split us up, I'll get put back with Squad 8 and I’m not going back to that shit show! Dredd was the only good thing about it at least I could trust her! But no John I'm not doing that sorry, I'll take all the bollockings you can dish out, I'm not leaving the 141 , not again no…” You could feel the slight tinge of panic in you chest and Price could hear it in your voice. He stood up stopping you by the shoulders.

“Listen to me, I won't let that happen, never ever...I mean come clean to Laswell, Kyle so those closest to us know about us, so I don’t have to be so harsh, they will just have to accept the fact your my favourite” He gave you that eye-crinkling smile that slowed your heart rate slow down. He was right Kyle deserved to know.

“Yeh your right” you looped your arms around his waist burying your face into his chest, he smelt of warm sand, tobacco and kerosene. Price looked down at the top of your head looping his big arms around you in return.

“You know when I was younger, I wasn't afraid of anything, I didn't have the slightest fear of dying, no reason for it. I thought that if I died that was fine by me, I’ve come close a few times believe me Kid, but then I met you and I started to think that, I wanted to survive to live and for the first time, the idea of death scared me” Price looked up into the now pitch black sky.

“What I'm trying to say is this what we have found, I want to keep it safe, but I also don't want to smother it by keeping it hidden, we can do this, others have made it work. Listen I’ve been an idiot before and it cost me a year without you, don't think I could do that again so I want you right next to me where you belong and if that means a few select people know the score then so be it, they will find out anyway when they realise we have the same postcode and the kids come out with my eyes and your hair!” He was laughing now and it seemed to echo into the night.

You were lost for words, too stunned to speak. Kids? Same postcode? Who was this man? Price suddenly felt your silence and wonder had he said too much?

“Ermmm did I go to far with the whole kids and same postcode?”

You looked up at him a little smirk pulling at the corners of your mouth.

“A little, but your eyes? I wouldn’t mind that actually, but my nose…” you winked at him. Price sighed with relief letting out a little chuckle.

“Yeh your nose” he leant forward giving you a kiss. He glanced back towards the base.

“We had better head back before they send out a search party, bet they think your getting a right telling off!” Price draped his arm over your shoulder and started to walk back.

“More like a right good seeing to!” You elbowed him in the ribs giving him a comical wink. He pretended to hold this side laughing.

“That can be arranged? My room lets say about 2am?”

“Yes Sir!” You saluted him as you looped your arm around him.

“By the way what did you mean when you said ‘others have made it work’?”

“Ohh erm well don’t know if you’ve noticed but Alejandro and Rudy are pretty close who do you think told me to bring you out here tonight to talk?” Price looked out across the horizon.

“Ohhhhhh I had noticed it actually, well if a Colonel and a second in command can make it work then so can a Captain and a Sergeant”

As you both walked back to base linked into eachother Price felt like all his christmases had come at once, you just needed to get through this mission then you could really start making plans, he still needed to ask you out on that date.

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lost-carcosa · 2 months ago

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In every Judge Joe Dredd story I’ve ever read, there is at least one almost comically obvious moment when the author makes clear that the protagonist is a jackbooted fascist and not someone to admire. This may come across to the average reader as heavy-handed, but when the richest man in the world misreads the character as heroic, you can see why such heavy-handedness is sometimes necessary.

Shortly before former Representative Matt Gaetz of Florida withdrew his nomination for attorney general, Elon Musk posted on X that Gaetz was the “Judge Dredd America needs to clean up a corrupt system and put powerful bad actors in prison.” Generally speaking, one’s model for justice should not be a fascist invented in part to illustrate the distinction between elite impunity and the brutality that ordinary people face. (Were Dredd’s zero tolerance for lawbreaking evenly applied to obscenely wealthy scofflaws like Musk himself, it would surely be less appealing to him.)

Musk’s media illiteracy is not particularly shocking—it seems to be part of a broader trend tied to the rise of Donald Trump. Genre stories that are meant to highlight the dangers of fascism, cruelty, or selfishness instead end up being misinterpreted or even condemned by those who find fascism appealing or see cruelty and selfishness as aspirational virtues.

The messaging in Dredd stories verges on didactic, but it also assumes at least a tacit objection to fascism in the reader. One of the series’ co-creators, Pat Mills, has said that his model for Dredd and the other judges was the monks at his parochial school, who subjected children to physical or sexual abuse. The stories are set in a dystopian future where several “megacities,” surrounded by a radioactive wasteland, are ruled by draconian judges. Initially established by the character of Eustace Fargo in response to rampant street crime, this judge system empowers its agents to convict and sentence those they deem criminals, and simply kill many of the people they encounter.

As mentioned, the implications of these stories are not exactly subtle. In one 2019 story arc, The Small House, Dredd confronts Judge Smiley, the Justice Department’s chief of black ops, over Smiley’s use of invisible assassins to murder democracy activists in Mega-City One. Dredd’s main objection to Smiley’s operations, it seems, is that Smiley’s assassinations are not following proper protocol. Dredd has no moral objection to killing democracy activists, but it has to be done by the book. Smiley calmly explains to Dredd, “We’re fascists. We rule. It’s the only way we can survive in this irradiated, dead world.”

Dredd is a true believer in the judge system, and as such lacks the corruption of his contemporaries. This renders him ethically superior only to the other fascists, however; he is an unthinking armed goon who would never allow the system to be changed just because the majority would prefer it. He acts fanatically in service to the unjust system he upholds, not to any larger ideals of honor or integrity. In the 2006 storyline Origins, a cryogenically frozen Fargo is briefly thawed and begs Dredd to undo the judge system. “It was never meant to be forever,” Fargo pleads, just before dying. “We’re the monster, we got greedy—wanted everything—so we killed the dream, Joe, we killed America!” Dredd, being Dredd, ignores Fargo’s pleas and, when asked later about Fargo’s last words, says Fargo wanted him to “keep the faith,” forever burying Fargo’s wish to end the judge system in favor of democratic rule.

As Trump reshapes the nation in his image, some of his supporters seem inclined to turn cautionary tales on their head, empathizing with villains or antiheroes to such a degree that they miss the point of these stories entirely, even when the writers make the message as clear as possible. We might call this problem Tony Soprano Syndrome, after the patron saint of flawed antihero protagonists. One undecided voter told a New York Times focus group earlier this year that Trump is “the antihero, the Soprano, the ‘Breaking Bad,’ the guy who does bad things, who is a bad guy but does them on behalf of the people he represents.”

Almost every single thing here is wrong, but it’s wrong in a way that illustrates the illiteracy that I am talking about. The Sopranos is by any measure one of the greatest television series of all time, focusing on the daily travails of a mob boss who tries to balance his mental health with keeping his marriage together and raising his children. But Tony is a murderer whose greed and ambition harm the people he claims to love. He is not a moral exemplar, nor is he intended to be; his selfishness helps no one else and is destructive to all around him. The same is true of Walter White, the protagonist of Breaking Bad, who at one point in the show literally looks at the camera and says of his crimes, “I did it for me.”

Again, the creators could not be more clear that these characters are horrible people whom others should not seek to emulate. There is a difference between thinking Darth Vader is an awesome character in the fictional context of Star Wars and, you know, wanting to be like Darth Vader, a psychotic child-killer. Quite similarly, Trump could not be more clear that he is out for himself, seeking the power of the presidency to enrich himself and his allies, protect himself from legal jeopardy, and bask in the cultlike adulation of his followers. But fans of Tony or Walter, living vicariously through the power and cruelty of the object of their admiration, invert the moral implications of those characters’ stories such that selfishness and malice are justified or laudable. In the same way, Trump supporters treat the real-life Trump, who seeks power for his own gain, as a fictionalized Trump whose vices are in service to a selfless cause.

Tony and Walter are also aspirational figures for a certain type of man experiencing a certain type of midlife crisis because, despite their body aging and their looks fading, they can still shape the world around them with a seemingly infinite capacity to endure or inflict violence. They want to tell themselves they’re protecting something—home and hearth perhaps—but actually want to validate themselves with a justification for hurting someone else, even if they have to invent one.

This is one reason the actor Anna Gunn, who portrayed Walter’s wife, Skylar, drew an intense backlash—she was the embodiment of the nitpicky wife whose jealousy held her husband back from greatness (as a murdering meth kingpin).

Walter represents the emotional state of a particular type of viewer—someone who wants to enjoy his ability to make himself feel good through violence and suffering, and doesn’t want his good time spoiled by a mouthy woman reminding him that the things he is doing are actually bad. This type of reactionary masculinity is itself emblematic of the Trump era, as if conservatives listened to feminist critiques of “toxic masculinity” and decided to shear all virtue from their conception of traditional manhood and retain only those parts that involve dominance and exploitation of others.

Examples abound. Last year, another heavy-handed comic-book adaptation, the television series The Boys—about a covert-ops group that targets the irresponsible corporate-produced “supers” who kill more people than they actually save—made its criticism of fascism so overt that many of its fascist-sympathetic fans began to get upset. These fans complained that the show had gotten “woke” once the plot began to more plainly illustrate the political points it had been making all along, to the dismay of those fans who were living vicariously through the antagonists’ acts of cruelty.

Similarly, the creators of the murderous Marvel Comics’ vigilante the Punisher have repeatedly clarified, to no avail, that, despite possessing some virtues, the character of Frank Castle is not a good guy. In addition to being a murderer, he is occasionally portrayed as a fascist. During the Civil War storyline, Castle is told off by his idol, Captain America, who describes Castle as “psychotic,” fulfilling a “twisted notion of justice.” The Punisher creator Gerry Conway has called the embrace of Punisher iconography by real-life armed agents of the state “disturbing,” because “the Punisher represents a failure of the Justice system. He’s supposed to indict the collapse of social moral authority and the reality [that] some people can’t depend on institutions like the police or the military to act in a just and capable way.”

The collapse of trust in institutions is one of the stories of the past decade or so. But so is this moral degeneracy, motivated by the need to ideologically justify the place of a corrupt authoritarian strongman in the most powerful government in the world. What looks like declining media literacy may be something much worse—an affirmation of the underlying values in dystopian literature that inevitably lead to the dystopia itself.

#the trumpocalypse #media illiteracy #fascism #donald trump #elon musk #judge dredd #tony soprano #walter white #darth vader #the boys #the punisher #maga morons #long post

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shockyeahmiguelohara · 3 months ago

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Hello! I love your blog and find your posts really insightful I was wondering, what do you think is a key aspect of Miguel's character that makes him challenging for writers outside of Peter David to write? Some people told me that the key part of Miguel’s essence that ATSV failed to portray is that he’s a rebel is that true? I hope I'm not bothering you with the question I'm just fascinated by your perspective

what do you think is a key aspect of Miguel's character that makes him challenging for writers outside of Peter David to write?

The short version: I think a lot of writers try to make Miguel O'Hara a version of Peter Parker that works for them or that they grew up with. It falls in line with the idea that there is only "one true Spider-Man" of the franchise that fuels the backlash to Miles Morales. But instead of overt racism, you end up with a milquetoast version of Miguel that's closer to Peter Parker than a genuine iteration of Miguel.

Some people told me that the key part of Miguel’s essence that ATSV failed to portray is that he’s a rebel is that true?

I think Miguel is a collaborator by nature, but rebels when something directly opposes his principles' and moral compass (and usually after he cannot ignore it any longer).

Take for instance, the catalyst that led to his becoming Spider-Man. Alchemax experimented on a human being without any real authorization, and Miguel's cooperation led to the senseless death of Mr. Sims.

The only way he felt he could hold himself accountable for his part was quitting and putting distance between himself and Alchemax. Tyler Stone undermined that by spiking his drink with an addictive drug that would eventually kill him. The aftermath of an deliberate attempt to murder him basically gave him the means to fuck up Stone's corporation and make some kind of amends for his complicity. But it also left him with disabilities (extreme sensitivity light being one of them).

So, in general, I think Miguel is a team player when it counts, but prefers to do things his own way (which, I guess is a rebel depending on the context).

Other elements that make Miguel 'difficult' for other writers is

1): Generation Gap and the Passage of Time

In particular, Spider-Man 2099 came around the time of the much derided "extreme era" of Marvel Comics, and comics in general. Which was nothing, if not a reaction to the Comics Code Authority and its particular brand of censorship (ah-la BS&P), and the desire to cater to a much older audience of readers.

So, the end result was overcompensation and a lot of antiquated ideas that remain fairly prevalent within the modern industry's of comic book publishing (see: Ultimate X-Men, Ultimatum, One More Day, Dan Slott, Comics Gate, etc.).

Spider-Man 2099 is very much a reflection of that "extreme era" ethos, from its character design, writing, and particular depiction of the future. It's Robocop or Judge Dredd flavored, so to speak. I also think it's easy to forget that Spider-Man 2099 was apart of a larger comic book series that included Ghost Rider 2099, Hulk 2099, Punisher 2099, and etc. It was beta Ultimate Comics.

The original Spider-Man 2099 debuted in 1992, and ended in 1996, officially putting the character on ice. Even as one of the better received titles of their 90s catalogue, with a cult following, it's hard to ignore the fact that Marvel treated their 2099 titles like damaged goods, something they had to run away from to recuperate their image.

As a result, they intentionally never did anything else to really promote Spider-Man 2099 so that he'd become a household name.

A similar thing happened to May Day Parker and the Spider-Girl franchise. Despite being relatively well received, Marvel as a company did its best to basically make sure she'd never become a household name.

So, by 2014 you've got 22 years of nothing happening with Miguel O'Hara. Then Dan Slott's Spider-Verse title debuted, and introduced a bunch of a Millennial and Gen Z era readers to all of these Spider-Mans they've never heard of, or only knew in the vaguest concept.

Almost immediately after, Peter David gets to write two more volumes of Spider-Man 2099. Except this time, he more or less does away with original continuity and all its narrative ties to cater to newer readers.

2): He's treated like a novelty or an aesthetic

The cancelled Spider-Man Unlimited series from Fox Kids, a reaction to Batman Beyond (Kids WB), was initially shopped around as a Spider-Man 2099 series. But because the general audience didn't know Miguel O'Hara (a consequence of the lack of promotion), Marvel decided to use the trappings and ideas of 2099, and created another Spider-Man series with Peter Parker. They treated the series like a spiritual sequel to Spider-Man: The Animated Series (a show they cancelled).

Prior to Spider-Verse, we got things like Timestorm 2099, Shattered Dimensions, and Spider-Man: Edge of Time.

Like an extension of Unlimited, with instances like Marvel's Spider-Man that uses Miguel's costume as an alternate skin to unlock in the PS4 game. It's why The Amazing Spider-Man production process wholesale lifted the design scheme of Miguel's costume as a possible final costume for their version of Peter Parker (see: the film's concept art), but never considered, maybe, making Miguel an actual character. (But honestly, given that its TASM, that's probably for the best.)

Thirteen years after the original comic, Timestorm 2099 was some kind of an attempt to introduce Miguel O'Hara to another generation of readers (Ys and Zs). I guess, to see if they could turn a profit with him. It's one of the few SM2099 titles not written by PAD. It solidified my belief that no one at Marvel, except PAD, really considers Miguel a unique character, just a reskin of Peter Parker.

Timestorm 2099's Miguel is a really bland version of teenage Peter Parker, whose dad is a genius scientist, and no elements of his family and life from SM2099 vol 1 (Gabri, Conchata, Xina, Dana) exists in different/alternate forms. The story basically exists just to get Peter to meet teen Miguel, and not much else. It's a less entertaining version of Spider-Man 2099 meets Spider-Man.

Exceptions to the rule are Edge of Time, a story co-written by PAD. It treats him like a whole and fully realized character, it uses an iteration of his universe as part of the stakes for Miguel and Peter, whose futures are altered by Dr. Sloane. It builds on their back and forth through dialog that doesn't just fill game-time space, but informs their character. And they do this with, arguably, the most recognizable Peter Parker voice actors of their time (Christopher Daniel Barnes, and Josh Keaton).

Were it not for the game's less than stellar performance, I'd argue that was a solid selling and starting point for newcomers to Miguel that Marvel could've really pushed. If I can say anything about Dan Slott, he kept trying to make his "fetch" idea (Spiderverse) happen, and it was, in part, the reason why we ended up with more PAD-helmed 2099 stories for Miguel.

But even with that in mind, the novelty aspect of Miguel's universe as one that Marvel constantly reinforces. It refuses to give 2099 its own space to exist outside of sporadic moments. To a large degree, Across the Spiderverse is very much a representation of how Miguel is treated like a niche or kitchy idea.

And you'll notice, with Miles (the one alternate/legacy Spider-Man they're capitalizing on, however disengeniously), the way they legitmized him is by keeping him trapped within the sphere of Peter Parker (specifically, alternate or cloned versions of Peter Parker).

#anon asks #shockyeahmiguelohara #meta: asks #miguel o'hara #spider man #spider man 2099 #marvel comics

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xplainthexmen · 11 months ago

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In which we walk down X-Plain Memory Lane; everyone needs Bitch Planet; HoX/PoX wouldn’t stay on shelves; we learn how to make sure a comic doesn’t get canceled; Marvel should have kept publishing those Krakoa-era anthology TPBs; X-Men is indeed a soap opera; and you can jump in here ’cause we’re all confused.

X-PLAINED:

The most crowded X-year

Books With Pictures, official best comics shop in the world

Our upcoming 10th birthday party

Katie Pryde’s X-history

Prioritizing marginalized nerd identities

Lapsed X-readers

X-sprawl

The Dawn of X books that worked (and the one that didn’t)

The frustration of discontinued collection formats

The perfect number of X-books (again)

Drama and kissing

What we want after Fall of X

Readers’ single issue vs collection preferences

The power of the preorder

Katie’s (naming) origin story

Readers versus speculators

How to organize a comic book store

Non-X recommendations for X-fans

The glory of Judge Dredd

X-Men who can be trusted to watch a comic book store

NEXT EPISODE: Deviants, Christmas ghosts, and Magneto!

LINKS AND FURTHER READING:

Books With Pictures in Portland, Oregon

The Books With Pictures Podcast

RSVP to our birthday shenanigans!

Find us on Apple Podcasts or Spotify!

Jay and Miles X-Plain the X-Men is 100% ad-free and listener supported. If you want to help support the podcast–and unlock more cool stuff–you can do that right here!

Buy rad swag at our TeePublic shop!

#xplainthexmen #jay and miles x plain the x men #books with pictures

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brie-annwyl · 2 years ago

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It’s all a lie

Pre outbreak! Joel Miller x reader

Summery: Joel Miller is in love with his asshole brother’s girlfriend, what could go wrong?

Warnings: illusions to sexy times, Tommy is a slut and a bad boyfriend, Joel is like borderline obsessed with reader but god is it attractive. Also mentions of Joel dreaming of giving oral. Your welcome

Joel is well aware he’s fucked.

The moment he saw you smile at him from across the bar, he knew. He doesn’t need to be reminded that he’s a horrible brother, he already knows that. Falling for your brother’s girl is probably an unmentioned sin in the bible. And if it’s not, it should be, because the way Joel thinks of you. He can’t stop himself no matter how hard he tries. He hates himself for it.

He’s holding you for the hundredth time as you cry, Tommy’s screwed up again which shouldn’t be as shocking to you as it is. Considering your entire relationship has been Tommy breaking you over and over again and Joel picking up the pieces, telling you to leave, only for you to be holding Tommy’s hand the next time he sees you. It’s always the same.

But not this time.

You weren’t just crying, you’re screaming. This time is different because you’re pissed, full of loathing and throwing it at full force towards whoever will hear, that just so happens to be Joel.

“I cannot believe I gave him 3 years- I wasted 3 years of my life on him!”

Joel can’t believe it either, not when he’s been here, holding you since the second week. But he doesn’t say that, he holds you against his chest and softly murmurs an “I know.”

“Th-this absolute bastard! I knew he was always going to be rough around the edges but to flirt- no, not just fucking flirt, to make out with another woman at the bar on-“ a sob over takes you and Joel has never felt the urge to kill a man more than he does now. It’s your birthday, and instead of having an amazing night with your boyfriend of 3 years. You’re sobbing into Joel’s chest because Tommy is still, and will forever be Tommy. His hold tightens as his patience is weakening. Not with you, never with you. But with your (hopefully soon to be ex)boyfriend.

It’s quiet for a while, Joel knows how the night ends after this. You’ll uncurl yourself from his side and immediately apologize upon seeing the tear stains. He’ll make you both a drink, depending on how you’re feeling or the time of day it could be coffee, alcohol, or Joel’s specialty, Peppermint Hot chocolate. Every drink is always served with a glass of water to re-hydrate you. He will give you clothes (his Pj’s) to relax in before you snuggle under a comfy blanket on the couch. He’ll turn on a shitty movie for you to laugh at. Sometimes you’ll fall asleep and he’ll move you to his bed while he takes the couch for the night, or you’ll leave with a kiss on the cheek and endless “thank you’s” falling from your lips. It’s such a predictable routine he already knows you want a hot chocolate tonight, and the movie you’re going to watch is Judge Dredd from the 80’s with Sylvester Stallone. He knows you so well, so well that he’s shocked when you don’t uncurl yourself from his chest.

“Sweetheart?” The nickname has you pressing further into his chest, your arms tighten around him almost as if you’re afraid he’ll leave.

“Do you remember the night we all met?” Though mumbled into his chest, he still hears and it still makes his heart jump when he thinks of it, even though his heart has been broken ever since. His simple “mhm” seems to be enough to lure you to continue.

“It’s the perfect love story really, we catch eyes from across a crowded room and we’ve been together ever since.. “ your head suddenly lifts from his chest, still close, almost sitting in his lap with your hands on his pecs and Joel is trying to think of the most disgusting things he knows of to keep his little friend in check. Without noticing his hands are resting on your waist under your shirt, drawing little comforting circles into your skin.

“But it’s all a lie.” One of your hands slowly moves up to the back of his neck, eyes dropping to the uncut hair your are currently twirling between your fingers. The sensation has Joel imagining things he could never tell you, like the thousands of times he’s dreamt of you locking his head between your thighs as your fingers grip his hair for dear life. Endless moans falling from your lips while your back arches.

“He wasn’t the one I was staring at Joel.” You whisper, the sultry tone isn’t lost on him. Nor is the feather like stroking of his collarbone, your fingers stop playing with his hair as they slowly move to hold his head, never fully leaving him, the ghosting touches sending a warm shiver down his spine. He wants to ask what you’re doing, to softly push you away, to remind you that you’re technically still with Tommy, even if he desperately wished you weren’t. But he doesn’t. He just holds you tighter as one of his hands finds it’s way to hold your lower back beneath your shirt.

“Who were you looking at baby?” He knows he’s a bad brother as your lips draw closer and doesn’t put up a fight against it, he knows he’s a horrible person when you softly murmur a “you” against his lips and he kisses you, no longer keeping himself in check as you hold his face so gently he barely feels it. The kiss is what he imagined millions of times and so much more than he could’ve fantasized. You’re so soft and passionate with every push of your mouth against his. He can’t believe you’re real if he’s honest, absolutely perfect in every way possible. His guilt disappearing as you detach your perfect mouth from his only to situate yourself closer to him (if even possible) before pulling him back to you with force.

He can’t remember how long it’s been since he’s felt so loved, so fucking aroused from kissing someone and he starts questioning if he ever has. He has to hold back a groan as you depart for air, heaving as you lean back to look at him. God he’s never seen you more gorgeous than right now, limbs wrapped all around his body with your face flushed, lips swollen and glistening from kissing him. Your eyes watching him very carefully and calculating. You always look cute when thinking he decides as you ever so softly bite your bottom lip.

The moment is suddenly over has you quickly remove yourself from him and running over to your bag, and Joel’s terrified. Not of the possibility that Tommy will never forgive him but of the thought that he hurt you or made you uncomfortable. The thought that you regret it has his heart shattering across the living room floor. He’s quick to get up and call after you, already trying to do damage control.

“Sweetheart? God I’m so sorry, i should’ve asked before-“ a hand slapping over his mouth has his apology dying on his lips. Fuck your hands are so soft against him. He stands dumbly as you hold your phone to your ear. The air feels thick as he hears the ringing then the receiver clicking. A slurred “hello” flows throughout the room as you don’t take your eyes off of Joel’s. You called Tommy, you called your boyfriend, and you’re going to tell him what happened begging for another chance. Leaving Joel to clean up the mess you will make. And he’d do it, he would do it for eternity if he got to kiss you again.

You’re both at a standstill as he hears Tommy already rattling off an apology for ruining your birthday, you hand twitches against Joel as he calls you “my girl” through the phone. You’re still looking at Joel with a blank stare, eyes unblinking as Tommy goes on and on with excuses before you finally interrupt him after what seemed like hours to Joel.

“We’re over Tommy.” This seems to have left Tommy speechless, and not only Tommy. Joel’s eyes are wide as he gently guides your hand away from his mouth and taking a step forward, you don’t wait for a response as you quickly end to call and push yourself back into Joel’s loving embrace, you fit together like you were made for each other, two perfectly carved puzzle pieces. Joel lifts you into his arms as your legs wrap around him. Your kiss never once breaking as he takes the both of you to his room. The whole way there throughout messy kisses and moans all he’s doing is thanking every god he doesn’t believe in that his brother is a man whore.

I hope y’all enjoyed,🫶

#joel miller x reader #joel miller #joel tlou #the last of us #god he’s so hot #barking #this is kinda bad #we eating good #pre outbreak!joel

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enchantedflameandflower · 6 months ago

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Also! the karl masterlist is updated! I went through and fixed the broken or missing links and got it all up to date. If there are any more please let me know!

More Gavin x reader later this week, plus working on some Dredd with the awesome and amazing @kus-babygirl! 🤤 Also plan to do some Will from Hangman and Len, (and hopefully watch Pathfinder soon) as well as tons more Billy of course. Love you all! ❤️🏴‍☠️

Billy Butcher fic! H/c with a lot of c a bit of fluff and just a minute of soft!Billy for fun! 18+

“It ain’t an insult, ya know. Callin’ ya princess. Think of it like…what’s that story…Beauty and the Beast.” He gestured to himself on the word ‘beast’ and she turned to face him. She couldn’t help grinning.

“You have a talking tea cup hidden somewhere in that coat?” she teased him, her eyes shining as she stepped closer.

He reached out to her, sliding his hand around her waist beneath her robe and tugging her closer. “No, but I can make some magic if ya like. Just say the word.”

“Hmm,” Addison hummed. Such a bastard.

more below the cut!

~*~*~

I also just started a x reader fic with Karl's character from Pete's Dragon! Check it out here! Gavin x reader

Tag List: @2dead2function @secretdreamlandmentality @nosebeers @vavafaure1994

This takes place before and during the last ep of Season 3! I really really hope you enjoy! Thank you so so much to everyone reading, you're the best! I am so sorry I've been so slow, things have been really hard lately <3

Karl Urban Masterlist

Part 1

previous (Part 36)

~*~*~

Part 37

As soon as she turned the shower off the next evening she heard his heartbeat. She stepped out, drying off quickly and pulling on her nightgown and robe before she went out to the living room.

Butcher was standing by her big glass windows, scrolling through something on his phone and she watched him for a second before she spoke up. He looked good, no cuts or bruises, no scowl, but still there was something weighing heavy on him, she could tell. Something besides Ryan, and..and the other stuff.

“Hey,” she murmured softly, rounding the high counter to go into the open kitchen.

“‘Ello, princess,” he looked up and turned toward her, stuffing his phone in his pocket.

Addison grabbed a tea kettle, filling it with the filtered water from her fridge. “You’re never going to stop with that are you.”

“You’re wearin’ a French silk robe, sunshine. It looks more expensive than my whole apartment.”

Addison bristled. “I’m…sure that’s not true. Anyway, I have sensitive skin,” but her lips quirked when he caught her gaze with a cheeky grin. “And I bought it for myself for my birthday. When I didn’t get anything else, you know,” she lifted her brow.

“Aye,” he winced, “sorry, love.” He came into the kitchen, leaning against the counter while he watched her turn the stove on. “It ain’t an insult, ya know. Callin’ ya princess. Think of it like…what’s that story…Beauty and the Beast.” He gestured to himself on the word ‘beast’ and Addison turned to face him. She couldn’t help grinning.

“You have a talking tea cup hidden somewhere in that coat?” she teased him, her eyes shining as she stepped closer.

He reached out to her, sliding his hand around her waist beneath her robe and tugging her closer. “No, but I can make some magic if ya like. Just say the word.”

“Hmm,” Addison hummed. Such a bastard.

He seemed to take that as word enough and he added his other hand into the mix, curling his strong fingers around her hip and pulling her against him. He dipped his head, pressing his mouth to hers and she sighed softly as she easily gave in to his kiss. His scent filled her senses, his beard tickling her skin and she made some soft little sound that made him press her closer but she pulled away again almost immediately.

“Oi,” he protested.

Addison searched his dark eyes. “Just checking. I thought you might turn into a prince,” she whispered, grinning up at him.

He shook his head. “Sorry, princess, still a right bastard.”

“Ah well…”

He captured her lips again and she reached up to twine her arms around his neck but the tea kettle whistled and he had to reluctantly let her go.

“Tea?”

“Sure,” he answered.

“Any luck finding Mindstorm?” she asked carefully, pulling two cups down from the cupboard.

“Not a bit,” Billy answered and secretly she felt a swell of relief. Mindstorm was unpredictable and terrifying. She wasn’t sure Billy even understood how much.

They curled up on the couch together and Addison put on an old movie. When she was done with her tea she set it aside and Billy lifted his arm to draw her against him, her head against his shoulder. When he started running his fingers through her hair all hope of staying awake left her.

Halfway through the movie she had fallen deep asleep against him. She only woke up again when he scooped her up in his arms to carry her into the bedroom.

“Mmm,” she half-protested sleepily. “I’m too heavy now.”

Billy scoffed. “Don’t be daft. You’re perfect, love. I can carry ya both.”

******

It was the very next night, Addison was woken up by Billy climbing into her bed in the middle of the night again. She flicked her gaze to the bedside clock. Two am. She couldn’t help a little flutter of…relief? Joy? …whatever it was - that he had come back another night in a row, even if she was annoyed at being woken.

He climbed in the bed slowly at least, lifting the heavy blankets and trying not to jostle her, but it was of no use.

Addison smiled to herself and made a soft little noise, shifting lazily. She couldn’t help teasing him. “Mmmmm,” she breathed. “Joe, is that you?”

Butcher froze and she could just see him rolling his eyes in the darkness as he huffed at her and flopped down on the bed, yanking the comforter dramatically. “You think you’re a real comedian, dontcha?” he grumbled.

Addison chirped happily, but then he slid his hand over her waist and it was freezing, making her yelp.

“Come warm me up now, love, to make up for that, yeah?”

Addison laughed quietly and he dragged her body into the curve of his, her back pressing to his chest. Though his hands were cold the rest of him was warm and toasty as usual and she almost moaned at how good it felt.

Pressed against him now, she quickly drifted off again and was only woken hours later by the sound of Billy’s heart starting to speed. He was entwined with her, wrapped tight around her body and clinging as if she were his lifeline.

“Billy?” she whispered. Another nightmare. He squeezed her tighter, his body jerking violently, but holding her seemed to calm him and he fell back asleep. His pain was palpable and she felt her own heart squeeze. She laid down, closing her eyes, but keeping close to him.

When she woke again he was still clinging to her. Soft morning light was just starting to peek around the curtains.

He blinked slowly, his gaze landing on her as he came to. His arm moved and he pulled her closer, pressing his lips to her hair.

“I didn’t expect you two nights in a row,” she murmured after awhile.

“I don’t think it’s…this…is…a good idea,” he murmured gruffly. “But I ain’t disappearing either. Not now.”

“Well I never said I thought it was a good idea,” she deadpanned. But it was true. “But now it’s done, I can’t help but want this. I meant what I said Billy. I can do this on my own. But I still want you as long as you’ll stay.”

He shifted, tucking her in against his body. “I can’t say I won’t be terrible at all of it. And I can’t say I’ll stop… But I want to know…” he shifted again, and her eyes pricked with unshed tears at him finally admitting he wanted to know the baby, before he spoke again. “But I won’t risk you. Not at all. And you damn well better take your own safety more seriously now because I will not stay just to see you get hurt or worse while you’re…” he swallowed. He still couldn’t quite say it out loud.

“I will,” she whispered.

“But Addi…” he moved and turned her so he could look into her eyes again. “You gotta promise me…don’t let me fuck this up. If I…” he frowned closing his eyes for a moment. “If I fuck up, you do what you have to. Get away from me, protect…her or him, at whatever cost to me, it don’t matter. Promise me,” he whispered fiercely.

“I promise.” She whispered. Of course. She would.

“That's my girl.”

“But you have to promise me something in return. Please try to just stay alive. Please.”

He didn’t answer.

*******

Addison’s phone rang just as she was getting ready for bed a few nights later. It was late, and Billy almost never called. She dried her hands quickly and went to the bedroom to grab her iPhone off the nightstand.

Grace Mallory.

The only thing it could be was very bad.

“Hey boss,” Addison answered curtly.

“Addison. Are you with Butcher?”

“Nope,” Addison sat down on the edge of her bed, tense, although she tried to pretend she wasn’t. She didn’t mean to be short but it was just in her nature not to give any more information than she had to. Even to Mallory.

“He’s not answering my calls, and now his phone’s off,” her tone was strained, and Addison sensed there was a lot she hadn’t been told.

“Why wouldn’t Billy answer your call?” she asked. Of course, Billy was never predictable, but since Ryan was with Grace, he was unlikely to ignore her. Which meant there was something else going on.

“It ended…poorly…the last time he was here,” Grace answered, her tone sour.

Addison sighed inwardly. They both had a temper and a mean streak. Something bad must’ve happened and whatever it was must’ve been awful for Ryan, but that seemed to be a problem for another time. “Well, he told me he probably wouldn’t be reachable tonight.”

“And you’re just fine with that?” Grace scoffed.

“Yeah. I am Grace. I’m not going to be his fucking keeper. Why? What’s going on?”

“There’s a problem.”

“Isn’t there always?” Addison answered dryly.

“If you hear from him, tell him I need to talk with him urgently.” And she hung up.

It wasn’t even an hour later Vought Tower blowing up was all over the news.

*****

Addison’s phone was across the room when it rang again the next morning. She’d barely slept all night but she was racing across the room and fumbling the answer button on before the first ring even finished.

“What the fuck M.M.. Is everyone ok?”

His answering sigh was the heaviest she’d heard yet. “Not Maeve. But otherwise…yeah. It’s bad, but Butcher’s alive.”

Addison took a huge breath, slumping to the counter stool. Her hands were shaking but she managed to keep the phone pressed to her ear, while she pressed her other hand to her face. She knew she had to be prepared, but to lose him now… “Thank fuck he had that shit running though his veins then, I guess...”

“He didn’t.”

Addison’s head shot up. “What?” she froze. There was no way…

“He didn’t take it, Addi. I don’t know why, but he didn’t take it.”

*~*~*~*

I'm working on the next parts now, plus more Gavin x Reader and Billy x reader requests! This is the first time the story is taking a major turn from the show, hope it’s fun to read!

#karl urban #billy butcher #the boys #billy butcher brainrot go brr #karl urban brainrot go brrr #gavin magary #gavin magary x you

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mlm-writer · 4 years ago

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Judgement Time (Karl Urban as Judge Dredd x GN!Reader)

Kinktober Day 27: Cosplay Sex

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Pairing: Karl Urban as Judge Dredd x Reader with a vagina Rating: Explicit Words: 1430 Summary: Your boyfriend Karl shows you his outfit for comic con. It is hot. Note: Look me in the eyes and tell me this movie did not make you horny for that voice. Also reader has a vagina, but no gendered-words are used. I use clit and pussy once to refer to them genitals. Nothing is mentioned about a chest. Tags: no beta we die like men, roleplay (sorta), teasing, banter, wholesome sex, unprotected sex, DONT SWALLOW, low key leather kink if you squint, hmmmm consent and established relationship.

“Are you finally coming out?” You knocked on the bedroom door, your boyfriend being in there for at least 20 minutes. He yelled back that his costume was harder to put on than he remembered. You were prepping for comic con tomorrow and Karl said he had a surprise for you. You crossed your arms, because apparently his surprise was waiting until you aged. You took a step back when the door opened, curious eyes catching a glimpse of him before he even stepped out fully. “Oh my god, you’re hot,” you gasped.

Karl laughed as he turned around for good measure. His entire body was clad in leather that was made to look old and dirty, but you knew better than that. The badge on his chest had an odd shine to it. Even with the helmet on, you thought he was extremely hot. “See? I remember you having the hots for… Judge Dredd.” His voice changed as he spoke like he did in the movie.

You could not stop looking. “You’re not going anywhere with me like that. I might suck your dick in the middle of the dealer room.” He laughed and stepped closer to you, each step turning you on more. He stopped when his chest was barely touching yours. You could not see his eyes, but his smirk told you enough.

“I think I will have to assess your talents, rookie.”

“Why don’t you assess my body first?”

He chuckled, trying hard to stay in character, but it simply couldn’t be done with the weird exchange and cheesy lines. He leaned down to kiss you, but smacked you in the head with the helmet instead. With a grunt he pulled the thing off, his hair sticking up adorably. He lifted you up and kissed you as he moved to the couch. He put you down on the back of it and slid down to his knees, taking off your shorts in the progress. “Judgement time, baby,” he joked, before playing with you with his tongue. You put a hand in his hair and guided his mouth over your heat. Karl was good at a lot of things, but eating you out was his number one talent. His tongue knew where to press, how to tease and he sucked in just the right places.

You got so lost in the feeling of his mouth. All you felt was the pleasure of his tongue and time became unreal. He built you up to your orgasm, only to pull away when you got too close. You whined as you hopped off the couch. You switched places with him, enjoying the smirk on his face as you pushed him against the couch. He leaned against it and licked his lips as you got down on your knees. “I think you should assess my mouth too, judge,” you joked.

Karl shook his head, probably not believing this was actually turning him on. “You should just shut up,” he spoke lightly as he unzipped the leather pants, revealing he had gone commando under there. You raised a brow at him. “Don’t look at me like that. I knew you would jump my bones. I’ll actually wear underwear when we go to comic con, all right?”

You took his cock out with a smirk. “You can also go commando to comic con. Makes it easier to suck your dick in the dressing room.” He groaned as he watched you lick his length. You closed your eyes and took his cock in your mouth. You imagined being at comic con. It is the middle of the event and no one is really using the dressing room at this point. It is just you, him and a very thin fake wall to shield you from thousands of fans. You bobbed your head over his length as you imagined it, the thrill of being obscene, of being caught.

When you opened your eyes again, the sight got you dripping. Karl had his mouth open just a little, while his eyes showed you had his undivided attention. You pulled your mouth off him and let his wet length rest against your cheek. “I need to ride you,” you sighed, pupils dilated and hole dripping to get him inside you.

“I’ll clean the couch later,” he groaned as he bent down to pick you up. His lips were hungry for yours as he carried you around the couch and sat down in the middle of it. You shifted and lined his cock right for you to sink down on it. Your moans mixed as he breached you and your walls stretched around him.

“Fuck you’re thick,” you cursed as you slid down. You were so wet, it was easy to take him inside you. His hands landed on your sides as he helped you up and down his cock. You put your hands on his shoulders, leveraging yourself. You rolled your hips over his length, your wetness clearly audible with every move. Karl moaned, his eyes fixated on your face. The afternoon light shining through the curtains gave you a perfect view of his handsome face.

Your legs burned, but you wanted to keep going. It felt so good and you just wanted more, feel his cock from this perfect angle. Karl tightened his grip on you, preventing you from moving. You whined. “Don’t worry, gorgeous, I’m not done with you.” He slid down a little, hands going down to your hips. You lifted them up just a little, already knowing what he was about to do. He always knew how to read you. He held you in place as he thrusted his hips up into you. You rested your hands next to him so he could move freely. Even without the classic action 8-pack, Karl was super fit, tirelessly pounding up into you, the sound of skin slapping on leather and your hole overflowing with your wetness filled the living room.

“Fuck I’m gonna cum,” you whined as he fucked you roughly. You looked down at him, your horny on high as you saw the emblem on his chest. You carefully lifted one hand, bringin it to your clit and rubbing just a little, which was enough to send you over the edge. You whole body shook as he kept roughly fucking you through it, maximising your pleasure. He let go of you and you were seated on his lap, cock as deep inside you as it could go.

He groaned as your walls clenched and unclenched in the aftershocks of your orgasm. A hand raised to your cheek and you leaned against it as you caught your breath. “You’re so fucking wet, baby, I wanna facefuck you and cum on your tongue. Is that ok?” You let out a moan and nodded your head. You wobbled on your legs as you climbed off him. Karl manhandled you until you were on the floor, leaning with your back against the couch. He had a sturdy grip on your head as you opened your mouth.

Karl was not particularly big, but his girth was impressive. He pushed his cock into your mouth and you could taste yourself on it as he used your mouth for his pleasure. You hummed around it, eyes rolling back as he fucking your mouth like he fucked your pussy. He pulled out halfway, the tip of his cock on your tongue and you sucked as hard as you can, swimming in the sound of his groan, as he came on your tongue, his taste mixing with your own aftertaste. When he pulled out, he grabbed a tissue from the box on the coffee table and handed it to you. You spit his cum out, grimacing at the taste, making him chuckle.

Karl sat down on the couch and pulled you from the floor into his lap. You threw the tissue onto the coffee table and relaxed against him. “I think I messed up your costume a little,” you sighed. Karl took the leather gloves off and threw them god knows where. His bare hand landed on your thigh, rubbing it soothingly.

“Nah, it’s leather, easy to clean, right?” You giggled, putting a hand on top of his.

“So… what’s your assessment, Judge?” You grinned as you looked up at him. He smirked back at you and lifted you up. You yelped as he carried you to the bedroom.

“I think I am not done yet, rookie,” he spoke in that rough voice, before closing the bedroom door behind him with his foot.

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emily-strange · 5 years ago

Text

Tear Us Apart, Part 2

Y/N can’t stand the silence.

Part 2 of 3

Sorry this is a long one!

Warnings: Swearing

After the horrendous patrol, Y/N was told that she was relieved of duty for the rest of the day. She wanted to question the decision but no doubt Dredd just couldn’t face working with her and she wouldn’t force him, so she went home and did anything she could to distract herself; she’d sort it all out tomorrow when everything had calmed down.

But the next day she was told by the Chief Judge that Dredd had green-lighted her to be placed with another partner. That partner being long-term Judge, Brooks.

Brooks is fine. It’s nice to be paired with a strong woman and she seems to trust Y/N’s judgement calls. Their sector is one of the calmest which makes it safer but that didn’t stop the near miss during the first month. But Y/N made it, she pulled through and 3 months later here she is.

As well as its been going, it just isn’t quite the same. In the months following the incident with Petra, Y/N hasn’t spoken to Dredd at all. Not once. Not even a head nod in passing. Even though she should be thrilled that she’s now an actual Judge, Y/N doesn’t feel herself. Her heart hurts at the end of every shift, at the end of every day.

She’s made friends and she enjoys their company but there’s still that missing piece.

Today’s a short shift. They’ve already stopped 4 robberies and taken in 7 amateur drug runners; for a patrol, that’s a slow day. Now Y/N is sat in her favourite café with Brooks discussing her performance for the month. Her final probation review.

“Sooo I think the only thing to mention issss….you have too much sugar in your coffee.” Judge Brooks nods as she goes through the final paperwork, ticking and signing boxes as she goes.

Y/N laughs and tries not to spit out her mouthful of cake, “Really. That’s all you’ve got?”

Brooks laughs over the final page and signs with a flourish. She raises her coffee up to Y/N and then both clink in celebration. Mid sip Brooks spots someone at the coffee counter and waves them over.

The moment she calls, “Dredd!”, Y/N feels like her heart is being compressed in a vice. A rusty one at that. She hears the leather of his armour creak as he walks over from the counter to their table, giving her no time to regulate her breathing.

“Dredd, you’ll be happy to know that Y/L/N has officially been signed off. Our girl’s now a Psi-Judge.” Brooks says happily and even though Y/N smiles at her enthusiasm, she can’t bring herself to meet Dredd’s eyes behind his visor. In reality his response comes only seconds later, but to her it feels like decades.

“Well done Y/L/N.” Dredd says simply. He nods to Brooks and leaves to pick up his coffee before heading on patrol. When Y/N hears the door close behind her, she lets out the long breathe she didn’t know she was holding. Brooks hums.

“Yep. Thought so.” She says taking a sip of her drink. When Y/N looks at her quizzically she laughs, “Y/L/N it’s very obvious you feel…something…for Dredd. And to be honest he’s been hell to be around since you started partnering with me. He broke Jameson’s nose during their spar session last week and before that it was Mitchell’s arm!”

“Well…he’s always been hard work.” Y/N says defensively and that just makes Brooks laugh more.

“Look, I don’t know why you were handed over to me, Dredd had that last report sealed tight. But I know it wasn’t done because he wanted rid of you. And the fact that you swoon whenever you see him…I connected the dots.” She says and to Y/N’s horror she knows she’s right.

“Nothing’s ever happened.” Y/N starts, fiddling with her cup, “But I feel like there was something there.”

Brooks smiles kindly and fishes around in her bag for her work device. She starts to copy something from the device onto a napkin and passes across the table.

“Look, you didn’t get it from me. But I dunno, I’m a romantic. What’s the worst that can happen? You don’t speak as it is.” Brooks finishes and drinks the rest of her coffee. Y/N looks at the napkin and knows straight away it’s Dredd’s home address.

………………………………………..

It’s late afternoon when she gets home with the napkin burning a hole in her pocket. To distract herself she showers, tries (and fails) to nap and watches a number of terrible films. But during it all, she finds herself replaying Dredd’s flinch over and over again in her mind.

So, dressed in leggings and a soft knit jumper she leaves for his home. For safety, Judges are sprinkled around the city and very rarely live in their own sector. During the trip to his building, Y/N thinks around what she wants to say but as soon as she’s face to face with his door, all conscious thought leaves her.

After taking way too many seconds to scrutinize his apartment door, she finally gets the confidence to knock.

But no one answers.

She knocks louder.

But still nothing.

Y/N turns around and slides onto the ground with her back to the door. She pulls up her knees and sighs, banging her head back against the metal with a loud clunk. After laughing at the ridiculous situation she’s in, Y/N gives into the onslaught of tiredness. She doesn’t know how long she’s sat there before she falls asleep. She also doesn’t know how long she’s been asleep when the thudding of heavy boots wakes her.

She slowly opens her eyes and is completely disorientated. She stares at pristine black biker boots and follows her eyeline up the dark blue jeans and leather jacket, to a very (she guesses) confused Judge. It’s hard to tell with the helmet on. Dredd always wears an old version of the Judge’s helmet on his personal bike, claiming it’s far safer than normal ones. The helmet is from an old armour and basically unrecognisable as being a Judges’. Not that Dredd would care. Let someone try to take him down.

Y/N smiles to herself at the thought but remembers why she’s here and wipes it off immediately. She scrambles to her feet, registering how Dredd twitch’s his hand closer to help her but not following through. This wasn’t going to be easy.

“Um, hi.” She says and internally groans at how small her voice sounds. Dredd doesn’t say anything but moves to open his door. Y/N moves to give him space.

Once inside the apartment, he takes off his boots and leather jacket. Leaving Y/N to glance around the room. The walls of the livingroom are bare and off to the side is a small kitchen. In the middle of the room is a sofa with two matching chairs opposite and a small holo-vid TV. Y/N walks over to the only thing to have life in it. A small bookcase with every book in alphabetical order and to her surprise, the topics are really varied. Although her stomach does drop when she doesn’t see the book on 20th Centaury War she got him for Christmas.

Turning back to face Dredd, she see’s his black t-shirt stretched over his strong arms and it takes a second for her brain to re-engage with her mouth.

“Do you own any other colours?” she jokes, trying to lighten the mood.

Dredd just answers with a resolute, “No.”

Y/N sighs and moves to sit in one of the chairs across from the sofa but Dredd doesn’t move a muscle. Instead he stands awkwardly behind the sofa with his head hanging low. Helmet still on.

“Can you please sit..” she tries, “..I really want to talk.”

Dredd nods but avoids eye contact, even through his helmet. He sits on the sofa but off to one side, not directly in front of her and the awkwardness between them makes her want to cry. For a few long seconds she tries to even her breathing and wills the tears not to flow.

“So…we haven’t spoken, at all, about what happened.” Y/N starts carefully and glances up to see Dredd staring off beside her, “Please look at me. I…need to know you hear me.”

Dredd’s ever-present mouth frown deepens but he looks at her anyway.

“I hear you.” He says quietly.

Y/N forces a small smile, “Look what happened was…it was…fucking horrible okay. I…it was awful. But…how dare you.”

She hadn’t planned on saying that. That wasn’t anywhere in her mind (she didn’t think). So when Dredd snaps his attention to her, she mirrors what must be his shock.

“I’m sorry. I just…” She gets up and begins pacing in front of the bookcase, “…No I’m not sorry. I’m not. You bailed on me! I know you’re…my superior and oh God I know that this is a massive infraction but come on. You were also my friend…but you ran away!”

Dredd watches her as she lets a few tears fall down her cheeks before swatting them away.

Y/N knows she shouldn’t but in her moment of anguish she reaches out to his mind. She has to know she’s not speaking to a brick wall, that what she thought they had was actually real. Even if it was just a friendship.

The odd time she’d slipped into his mind by accident she’d felt the usual annoyance or frustration but sometimes, underneath it all, she’d feel longing. A longing directed at her. She has to know what that means.

She reaches out to read him and a choked sob escapes her throat. He’s holding onto so much sadness, more sadness than anyone should have to bear. A mixture of anger and self-hatred. Confusion and insecurity. All the emotions the man before her makes sure to keep hidden from his face at all times. Y/N realises that if she wants to know for sure, she has to go all in.

Walking slowly over to Dredd, Y/N kneels in front of him. She knows that he’s aware of what she’ll ask of him and when she senses he’s about to bolt, she puts her hands on her thighs to show him he’s in control. She won’t do anything without his consent.

“When…it happened. I pushed into your mind.” Y/N whispers and gets an affirming grunt from Dredd, “I didn’t mean to see your memories. I was just trying to…ease what I could. If you’ll let me, I’d like to show you my own memories of those times.”

She see’s Dredd’s jaw clench. But after a few long, long seconds he nods.

“I’ll keep my eye’s closed or, or you can blindfold me but…I need to touch your temple. It’s easier to show you the exact memories I want you to see. You’ll need to take your helmet off.”

Without waiting for confirmation, Y/N closes her eyes and holds out her hands to Dredd. Time stretches on but eventually she feels his helmet against her leg. Dredd takes her hands gently with his and grips tightly to stop himself from shaking. But she feels it. He puts her hands on his temples and Y/N rearranges to get comfortable, slotting herself between his legs.

She focuses on the first memory she saw, her returning his academy jumper. First, she shows him the snow and how miserable she was at the prospect of getting home without her coat. How humiliated she felt to be stood in only a long-sleeved top next to her very well-prepared superior in his winter jacket. Then she lets him feel the flood of warmth that ran through her when he told her to wait, went back into the locker room and returned with his academy jumper. The one she knew meant a great deal to him. Through her fingers she pushes the memory of how seeing herself in the mirror with only his jumper on made her hot all over and how that night she’d slept in it.

How sad it made her when she handed it back over.

Then she takes him to her sparring match with one of the newer rookies. How she felt his eyes on her before she even saw him and how she pushed that extra bit harder to win. Just so she could try to impress him. That when she saw his mouth twitch in the smallest smile, it was far better than any pat on the back from the gathered crowd. She felt like she was walking on air.

Lastly, she took him to the night they shared Chinese takeout on the roof of her apartment building. She couldn’t see his face but she knew he was listening to the silly story from her childhood. Y/N passed to Dredd her feeling of belonging, of happiness and contentment. She showed him how much their meals meant to her. How the loneliness that’d made itself at home in her heart shifted just by being near him.

Y/N pulls back to remove her hands from Dredd’s temple but jumps when he holds them there.

All of a sudden, he’s thinking extremely vividly, pushing more of memories back to her. Unlike his previous ones, Y/N see’s herself walking through the scene as an observer. She watches as Dredd picks out the cupcake for her birthday and how scared he felt at showing anything gentle, anything but his usual toughness. But the smile it brought. Her smile. It made him want to throw himself at her feet and promise her the world. She’d never been more beautiful to him than the moment she looked in that paper bag.

Y/N sniffs and whispers to the man in front of her, “That was my first birthday cake.”

Then in his mind he takes them to Christmas. When he unwrapped the book she got him. He went from elated to melancholy in a split second. Only managing a small “thanks” when in reality his whole body was on fire. He couldn’t remember the last time someone did anything nice for him. In his mind he shows her the wrapped present he never gave in return. It’s still sitting at the bottom of his wardrobe. He feels like a coward.

Y/N shakes her head before whispering, “You’re not a coward. You’re wonderful.”

“You don’t really know me.” Dredd replies. His usual gruff voice laced with something else.

“I know enough.” Y/N continues, gently rubbing her thumbs over his temple as a tear falls from her closed eyes, “I know that Petra did what she did because you care about me. She knew that hurting me is one thing but having it done but your own hands….that it’d tear you open.”

Y/N inhales sharply when she feels a calloused thumb wiping away her tears.

“I know that you think distance will make it easier to ignore how you feel….and that by staying away it’ll stop what you saw from ever really happening.” She sniffs and can’t stop the tears from falling freely now, “That you’ll sacrifice your own happiness if it means I’ll be safe.”

Dredd gives up on trying to wipe the tear tracks from her face and just holds her by gently cupping her cheeks. Y/N in turn trails her finger tips from his temple to his stubbled cheeks. She turns over one of her hands and gently brushes his jaw line with the back of her knuckles, taking note of the way he swallows thickly.

“I also know that you’d never hurt me….and not because you’re a Judge but because you’re you.” Y/N moves her hand from his jaw to his chest, feeling his heart beating under her palm, “This fucking shitty world, this city, has ruined a lot of things for me…my family…people I thought were my friends…the damn life I saw for myself. I won’t let it ruin you.”

For a long minute Y/N just sits and waits for Dredd’s response.

She forces herself not to reach out with her mind and just stays holding onto his face and chest, waiting. She feels a deep pain throb in her chest when Dredd withdraws his hands from her face and gently, but firmly, pulls hers away from him.

She bows her head as he silently holds them out in front of him.

#dredd x reader #dredd #judge dredd x reader #Judge Dredd #Judge Dredd Fanfiction #judge dredd imagine #dredd fanfiction #karl urban #karl urban dredd #karl urban fanfiction #tear us apart part 1 #tear us apart part 2 #tear us apart

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