#due to paranoia and the fact

[curious-l1ght]

Hm.

[ratwithhands]

Since I finished the manga a few days back, I wanted to revisit my two demon slayer OCs I made last year. Here's Yoshi and Syougo ^^

Syougo and Yoshiaki are childhood friends who both ended joining the Demon Slayer corps after being separated earlier in life. Yoshi spent his years training under his retired slayer father before passing the final examination, while Syougo ended up having to figure his own methods out after his first teacher made it so he couldn't use a true breathing technique again.

As an overview of the techniques they use:

Field Breathing is a technique Yoshi's father came up with over his career in the corps. When he retired, he continued to polish the forms and taught them to Yoshi. Both the name and the forms it utilizes are based on the flora around the rice fields he was raised and later retired to. The technique emphasizes speed, flexibility, and applying pressure to the opponent as much as possible. It's fluidity and aggressiveness leads Yoshi to be quick in handling threats since he pushes opponents around

Spirit Breathing (or if you're using archaic kanji, Vengeful Spirit Breathing) is a breathing technique Syougo made as a way to regulate his body and state of mind after losing the lung capacity to use Total Concentration or other methods. It's based around his base breathing rate so he doesn't overexert himself, which means to an extent he is always using it. In combat it's intended to psych out opponents and help highlight their weak points. Since it's mostly a distraction/intimidation technique, Syougo uses a secondary weapon to get the jump on opponents when they're not focused.

For some bonus design notes, here's some details for how they dress:

Yoshiaki's samue is based on what he'd wear when working at the rice fields with his family. The light green colour comes from being dyed with wisteria leaves, a precaution his mother took hoping it would protect him

Having nostalgia from weaving baskets with his mom when he was younger, Yoshi tends to use dry reeds for securing things. He ties his hair with it, decorates his equipment with it, and though his legs aren't visible, he ties reeds in a crossed pattern over his kyahan

The brown cotton sageo and tsuba he uses are handed down from his father. The scar on his cheek is also there for the same reason, his father had one and Yoshi decided to cut his cheek to look cool and match 💀

Syougo's haori has kogin-zashi embroidery across the sleeves and shoulders. He sewed it himself in between his training as a way to decompress and slow down. His kyahan have a matching stripe across the front

Syougo's tsuba was gifted to him by his current mentor who thought he would enjoy the oblique patterning to match his outerwear. His current mentor also requested a nichirin style tanto for him to use for his secondary fighting technique

The ragged look of Syougo's hair comes from him prioritizing training over all else, even appearance. The only instance where he will fully comb and dress his hair is for important meetings and ceremonies. He does maintain the part of his hair though, modelled after his mentor's (much shorter) hair. This is one doodle with clean hair

I'd write more about their character but this is getting long as it is 💀

I have a piece with Syougo that I'm going to put up soon, and at my sister's request I'll try doing a matching one for Yoshi

Hope you guys like these fellas ^^ I'll see you later

[clowngremlin]

basically made dinner all by myself today (older brother only seasoned our chicken breasts and i did the rest of everything)......i cooked raw meat which is something i don't do very often and was worried about, but everything turned out great!!! i also did my laundry today, took the dog for a walk and fed him and have been on top of making sure his water dish is always full, loaded the dishwasher with dirty dishes (idk how to turn it on, i'm gonna ask my dad how to do it when he gets home so i can begin to do it by myself!), did some drawing, wrote in my journal, and pulled myself out of a depressive spiral i was having earlier in the day!!!! really beating the "spencer can't take care of himself or do anything ever" allegations......

[dreamsofalife]

I'm just warning you. some of your allies have hospitalized to worse people in their lives with their own hands.

"You wanna play this game? Fine. Let's go."

She folds her hands and begins to recite one of the few prayers she knows.

"Our Father who art in Heaven, hallowed be thy name, thy kingdom come, thy will be done on Earth as it is in Heaven..."

[29121996]

ill b so real w myself: fuck.

[bhaalsdeepbat]

just to add:

Using Poe rather than any other Dark Romantic writer that was his contemporary to pull a quote from was such a good choice. Of his sotries, "The Tell-Tale Heart" was the perfect one for Astarion, but Poe very specifically believed stories should be written in a circular manner - like a snake biting its tail - which fits so perfectly with all the little ways Astarion's story and romance references itself.

Direct quote from my source:

Poe believed in “fashioning a tale like a kind of ouroboros, with its tail in its mouth, beginning with the final effect and working backwards to that the story’s beginning is a natural derivation of its conclusion.”

It's the setting up of the Romantic Astarion in act 1, finding out he's not as fine as he keeps insisting as the narrative swings into Dark Romantic territory, the paranoia starts to really come out (relating back to tell-tale heart), and then he is literally given a choice: continue the cycle or break free. The cycle of abuse is literally a circle here. He can take up Cazador's place in the ritual and step into his role entirely, reentering the ouroboros I mentioned earlier.

The "Thank you" when he first bites the player being referenced later when they see past his paranoia and how unreliable of a narrator he is about his own feelings and seeing that he doesn't want power. He wants safety in a world that he believes isn't capable of kindness or good.

I love how Astarion quotes The Tell-Tale Heart every once in a while. It's a rarer line, and initially I thought it was out of place (Neil is very well versed in theater, so I assumed it was a riff from him), but since reading an analysis of the work I think it was pretty purposeful.

The piece is all about fear and paranoia, things we know Astarion is plagued by despite how he might act. Similarly, the narrator of the story also tries to convince the reader that they are not as troubled as they seem. In the end, the narrator is consumed by the beating of the heart of the old man he killed and dismembered, the sound growing louder and louder until in a fit of rage he reveals the body to the police to absolve himself from the persistent beating.

Except the police never heard the heart beat, because it wasn't the old man's heart at all. The narrator was consumed by the sound of his own heart beating more and more rapidly in his chest from fear. He was the owner of the thing that forced him to reveal his true nature, he is the owner of the tell-tale heart.

And what happens with Astarion after you romance him? He realizes over time that, while he tried to deny his feelings and was initially only interested in manipulating you for his own means, he actually has grown to care for you. You have done something to his heart that hasn't happened in centuries, you have made it feel as if it has started beating again.

Therefore, his tell-tale heart leads him to admit his transgressions, which were committed out of fear and paranoia for his safety.

So the line is actually very, very apt. His confession during Act 2 is his own version of "Villains! Dissemble no more! I admit the deed! Tear up the planks! Here, here! It is the beating of his hideous heart!" Except, of course, it is his own heart that he is unearthing for us (and it's not so hideous, after all).

[florestalio]

HIDE-N-SEEK — l.hs

recently, your town has been getting terrorized by a serial killer, going by the name of 'ghostface'. of course you were scared to be his victim. imagine the sheer terror on your face — and the utter delight on his — when your fear turns out to not have been caused by your paranoia.

GENRE— ghostface au, stalker au

WARNINGS— dubcon, then noncon, and then dubcon again (you'll see what I'm talking about), both reader and heeseung are kinda fucked up, mentions of killing, mentions of stalking, knife play, fear play, reader has tits, reader's pussy gets called 'her' a few times?, fingering, cum eating, slight spit play, spit kink (?), name-calling (baby, slut, bitch, etc.), unprotected sex (don't), blood, blood play, bulge kink, clit pinching, missionary, mating press, kind of an open ending (?), NOT PROOFREAD, let me know if I missed any!

WORDCOUNT— 8.2k

NOTE— among the italicized text, if you see normal text, it basically indicates the opposite. as in, if the entire block of text wasn't italicized, then the normal text would have been in italics instead... if that helps

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

NO ONE WAS SAFE.

No matter where you resided, if Ghostface chose you as his victim, consider yourself to be dead.

No amount of protection, whether it be in the form of weapons or guards, locked doors or high security neighbourhoods — no one was safe from him.

You may ask, who exactly was ‘Ghostface’? Why, he is a renowned serial killer, one who wears a pitch black coat and a creepy mask, paired with white rubber gloves. The last thing his victims see before dying is the creepy ghostface mask smiling down at them — as said by a ghostface victim, who had miraculously survived the attack, only to die hours later in the same hospital at which he was interviewed. Reports say that the victim had been stabbed a total of twenty times, the word ‘Ghostface' carved onto his forehead. Apparently, he didn't appreciate the fact that someone survived him — even if it was only for a few hours.

Which was why everyone was scared to go out, even during the day. Till this date, no one had ever seen his actual face, his entire existence a mystery to everyone except him. He was truly an enigma, the source of both amazement and horror for all.

People were scared to even interact with each other, in case said person turned out to be Ghostface. What if they did something to piss the other person off, resulting in their death — perhaps in just a few hours from the aforementioned incident?

For an introvert like you, avoiding people came easy to you, it being your second nature. You weren't too worried about offending Ghostface, even by mistake. But no one was ever truly safe, not from the hands of a psycho serial killer, were they?

You would often find yourself peeking behind your shoulder at random times of the day, checking if someone was looking at you, or worse, following you. Perhaps it was simply due to your paranoia, combined with the increasing cases of deaths in the hands of Ghostface. Either way, your guard was always up.

You used to stay at the dorms on campus before, even when the deaths had started occurring on a daily basis. It was only after Regina — a girl who you never really liked because of her bitchy attitude — was found one morning by her roommate, completely mauled in her own dorm, lying in a pool of her own blood — did you finally feel terrified enough to move out of them, moving into a house in a slightly secluded region of the town, just around ten blocks away from campus. It wasn't a complete guarantee of your security, but it was better than nothing.

From some of the recent reports, apparently the victims of Ghostface were — stalked by him a few days prior to him killing them. Photos of the victims taken without their knowledge during the week before their death were found with their body. The police declared them to be taken by Ghostface, a fact that left you even more shaken than before.

You didn't have to be afraid of him. You were more than sure that you never did anything to piss anyone off, at least not knowingly. Surely no one could be holding a grudge against you, right? Especially not Ghostface?

Right?

IT WAS A NORMAL FRIDAY NIGHT — or as normal as it could be with the threat of becoming Ghostface’s next victim hanging heavily in the air.

Friday nights used to be the time when you danced, sang, got drunk, and hooked up, all night long at the frat parties that were held religiously every Friday. Now? Now people were afraid to look in other people's direction, in fear of provoking Ghostface.

It was truly remarkable, the way he had everyone in his chokehold. Rumors surrounding him specifically were mostly to blame for this.

See, according to many, Ghostface apparently likes to… toy with his victims before killing them. Exactly how does he toy with them?

According to the rumours, he gives them a phone call, taunting them. His voice is always distorted by a voice modulator, adding to the air of mystery surrounding him.

People were already downright terrified of him, but some people who apparently thought themselves to be hilarious, often mimicked Ghostface's antics — or what the rumours about him said — and called people up randomly, with a voice modulator. They would take advantage of the fact that no one actually knew what it sounded like, terrifying people to the core.

While some did it for pranking purposes, others did it for more malicious intentions, taking advantage of people's fears. It started getting worse and worse, the fakers, that is — until the government finally declared it to be a crime to mimic Ghostface, announcing a long time in jail for anyone who attempted it.

This put a stop to the mimicking, but it only made people grow more antsy. People were always silently waiting till their turn arrived to be Ghostface’s new victim, a fact that thrilled no one, but sent a chill down their spines, everytime they even thought of it.

Tonight was especially dark. The moon was behind the clouds, the eerie darkness causing you to feel more terrified than normal. It wasn't that dark, but with Ghostface out in the open…

You decided to focus on washing the rest of dirty dishes instead, trying to get your mind off the serial killer. You had procrastinated long enough, the dishes starting to pile up. What better way to distract yourself?

You turned on the television, listening to an anime while washing the dishes. Silence scared you, — which was ironic, since you were an introvert with terrible social anxiety — the need to have some kind of sound, in the tiny and isolated house of yours, other than the sound of washing dishes, was extremely high. The only available option on the television was anime, and… well, the news. But no one wants to listen to the news during these times — all the news channels simply showed Ghostface's new victims and their mutilated bodies that lay in a pool of their own blood.

You were done with washing the dishes, putting all the plates away neatly — when suddenly, your phone rang. You peeked at the screen, your lips turning into a frown — it was an unknown number.

You wiped your hands on your pants, picking up the call, putting the phone to your ear. “Hello…? May I know who this is?”

The phone remained silent for an entire minute. Just as you were about to speak again, a somewhat distorted voice came from the other side of the call. “What's your name?”

You frowned. Why was this person asking for your name, when he was the one that called you in the first place? What a fucking weirdo.

You spoke again. “I don't wish to sound rude, but — shouldn't I be the one asking that? I mean, you were the one that called me, you know — not the other way around.”

You heard a chuckle from the other side of the phone. It creeped you out, the sound more menacing than amused. He spoke again, his voice still sounding distorted. “Aren’t you adorable?”

You were starting to feel creeped out now. Your hand was gripping the last plate in your hand tightly, not even noticing how much pressure you were using on it. You spoke in a slightly higher voice, your tone pitchy with a detectable hint of panic. “Listen Mr. Stranger — I don't know who you are, nor am I particularly curious. But you aren't fucking funny, so if you don't have anything of importance to say, I'm hanging up.”

Silence. Again. This guy was really testing your patience.

Finally, he spoke again, his voice lower… still distorted. “I would watch my tone if I were you, sweetheart. It's no way to talk to a… stranger, is it?”

You gulped. He sounded so… ominous, his tone nothing short of menacing. With your anxiety spiking, you spoke again, your voice mostly level except for the slightest tremor to it. “What do you want…?”

The guy on the other side of the call let out a hum. “To know your name, of course. You still haven't told me.”

You let out a shaky breath, your grip on the plate tightening. “But why? What is the importance of my name to you?”

He let out a chuckle, his next words making your blood run cold. “So I can know who I'm looking at.”

You almost dropped the phone, all the colour from your face draining. You managed to speak up in a shaky voice. “C-Cut the act. You're not funny — the government declared jail for the pretenders, yet you're impersonating him–?”

You could practically hear the smirk in his voice. “But darling, I'm not an impersonator, am I?” His voice grew lower, an underlying threat evident in it. “You don't believe me to be one either.”

Tears stung your eyes, the hand that was clutching the plate starting to shake. You slowly put down the dish, your eyes darting frantically around your living room that was connected to the open kitchen, looking around to spot any potential threat — said ‘threat’ being… Ghostface. Even if you knew that it was pointless. If Ghostface wanted to kill you, he would succeed in doing so — no matter what obstacles he faces. “L-Look Mr. Ghostface — I barely even go out! Even when I do, I mostly keep to myself, I don't even interact with anyone. I'm sure I haven't done anything to piss anyone off — let alone you, even unintentionally! So why…”

Your voice took on a tone of desperate resignation at the end, the subtle acceptance of your fate evident in it. Ghostface cooed at your tone, his own voice sounding like that of an excited child. “Aren't you cute? Don't worry, you didn't piss me off, just — intrigued me. You're always so alone, all by yourself… I just had to find out everything about you, didn't I? You are such a mystery, one I took utter delight in unraveling. It's only fair that I get a prize for my hard work, right ___?”

With each word he spoke, his voice could be heard louder and louder, coming from somewhere around the house. Right as he finished the sentence, the side door of your house, leading to the garden outside, slammed open. Ghostface stood in the doorway, a knife in one hand, a burner phone in the other. He spoke, his voice distorted from the voice modulator.

“Right, ___?”

You let out a loud scream, the tears finally breaking free, as you turned on your heel, getting out of the open kitchen, towards the stairs. You knew from all those horror movies that running into your bedroom would be the worst possible move, but you really had no choice. You could hear him behind you, laughing as he gave chase. “Running off so quickly, darling? Won't you at least give me a greeting, welcome me into your house? That's bad manners, you know. Or did mama not teach you any?”

His voice sounded like two people, speaking at once, one of a real person, the other a distorted voice like those in old radios. It unnerved you, since his voice modulator was probably glitching due to him running. You ran into your bedroom, locking it quickly — just in time for him to bang on the door loudly.

He yelled loudly, his voice bordering on that of manic excitement. “Open the door ___! You know that the bedroom is never a smart move. Or are you a dumb baby that doesn't know the basics of survival?”

His taunting was causing your already scattered thought process even harder to get together, your hands shaking. You looked for a hiding place before he inevitably broke down the door.

Under the bed? A good idea, but he would probably think of the same. But what other hiding places could there possibly…  the closet.

You quickly ran to the closet, throwing open its door. You pushed some of your clothes apart, going far inside, before pulling the clothes in front of you to make it seem as inconspicuous as possible. You sat at the back, your legs pulled up to your chest, your breathing shallow. You realised what a terrible hiding place it was, but it will have to do.

The banging grew more frantic, before he finally managed to kick down the door. You could hear his voice from inside the closet, causing you to still your breathing, to avoid getting caught. His voice was more of a menacing growl, no longer disoriented — maybe his voice modulator ran out of batteries? “Having fun princess? You're so fucking naive if you think hiding here will save you.”

He paced about the room slowly. “Where could you be hiding, hm? I hope it's not–” He dropped to his knees, peeking under the bed. “–under the bed? No, of course not. That would have been too easy. You're naive, but not that much, huh?”

But then he let out a snicker, one that almost caused you to start crying again. You could hear his footsteps again. “Or are you?”

Before you could comprehend the meaning of his words, the closet door was thrown open, his hand grabbing your wrist in a vice-like grip, pulling you out, tearing a scream out of you. “Turns out you are a dumb little bunny after all.”

He tackled your struggling figure to the ground, pinning your legs with his knees on either side of you. He used one of his hands to pin your wrists above your head, his other hand raising the knife, pushing it under your jaw, just a hair-breath shy of cutting into your throat. His voice sounded like a growl, an octave deeper. “Don't you fucking dare move — unless you would like me to slit your pretty little throat open. Trust me, I would take great pleasure in doing so.”

Your movements stilled, your breath coming out in short huffs. Tears were streaming down your face freely, your entire body covered in goosebumps. You stared up at him — at his mask, rather. He tilted his head to the side. “Did you have fun playing hide and seek? I hope you did, because I cannot guarantee that you will be having much fun now — it's my turn to have fun now, afterall.”

His words sent a chill down your spine. You were starting to accept your fate. Any moment now, he would slice the knife across your throat, slitting it in one clean swipe. He would laugh while watching the blood flowing freely from the wound, watching as the life leaves your eyes. It was all just a game for him, after all.

But he seemed to have different plans. He trailed his knife down, under the edge of your shirt. He slipped it inside, the cool metal making contact with your skin, the temperature difference sending a jolt through you. He traced the pointed end on your stomach, before doing something that shocked you — and gave you a hint of his true intentions.

He turned the knife sideways, sharp side facing up, before digging it into your shirt, slicing through it. The knife tore through the fabric like paper, before he threw the ruined fabric in some random corner of the room. You gasped at the cold air, squirming slightly. He pressed the knife above your stomach warningly. “Sit still darling. Or else I won't hesitate to cut up your useless body.”

Tears stung your eyes again at his words. But you stilled, too eager to survive. Your eyes suddenly widened as you saw him slip the knife under the middle part of your bra, before slicing it open. You gasped as he threw the discarded fabric away, the cool air hitting your boobs, your nipples instantly hardening. You were suddenly acutely aware of the precarious position you were in, unable to stop the heat creeping up your neck, as you noticed his intense gaze on your tits.

He gave you a warning look from behind his mask, his knife coming back against your throat. “One wrong move, and your throat will get sliced open.” He let go of your wrists — watching as you kept them in the same place. He smirked under the mask at your pliancy, his gloved hand coming to pinch your hardened nipples.

You let out a tiny shriek of surprise at the feeling of his rubber clad fingers groping you, unable to resist a whimper as he squeezed your mounds. He was merciless in the way he groped you, squeezing and pinching, completely unaffected by your whimpers and gasps — it was exhilarating.

You squeezed your eyes shut, trying to hold back a whine, as he twisted your nipple in between his fingers. You desperately tried to ignore the heat that was pooling down in your lower stomach, your heart racing.

He pinched your nipple again, squeezing your left tit roughly. He felt you shudder underneath him, the usual thrill that came with threatening his victims, running through his veins.

Yet, there was something else — an almost imperceptible hitch in your breathing, a flicker of… heat in your eyes, despite the situation you were in. Curious, he slightly moved his knife away from your throat, but not enough to make you feel any less threatened. “What's this…?”

You looked into the eyes of his mask, gulping audibly. He pinched your nipple again, tearing out a whine from you. His eyes narrowed at your reaction. He wasn't dumb — he knew when someone was turned on. But… in this situation? With a knife to your throat? Your life in his hands? It made no sense. Still — his body responded, his pants tightening.

He slowly dragged the knife down, in between your breasts, pausing at your stomach. He looked up at your face, searching for any sign of fear, or even defiance — nothing.

Instead, he saw your lips parted slightly, your breath hitching — he swore he saw your pupils dilate. He let out a shaky breath, his voice laced in disbelief. “You…”

His grip tightened noticeably, curiosity and annoyance warring in his expression. "You're enjoying this, aren't you?" The realization sent a jolt of dark excitement through him. He leaned in closer, his breath hot against your ear. "Sick bitch.”

You let out a whimper, shaking your head frantically, in denial of the whole situation. Still, your thighs rubbed together involuntarily, trying to quell the ache between them.

An almost menacing chuckle escaped him as he registered your movement. His free hand moved to pin your thighs down, trapping them between his own once again. "Fuck," he muttered under his breath, feeling his control slip. "You're really getting off on this?”

You let out a whine, squirming slightly. He stared down at you, his heart pounding in his chest. He had never been this close to losing control before. But the way you were reacting, the way you were looking at him — it was driving him insane.

"I should cut you," he growled, the knife trembling against your stomach. Your eyes fluttered slightly at the threat, a slow exhale leaving you. You couldn't understand your own body. Why, the fuck, were you reacting the way you were?

He blinked rapidly, shaking his head slightly as if to clear it. The knife lowered incrementally. "What the fuck is wrong with you?" His voice was incredulous, though tinged with reluctant awe. "Getting turned on by someone threatening you?”

Your eyes stung with tears at his words, your body reacting in the completely opposite manner — your thighs clenched, an almost pitiful whimper leaving you.

He watched your body language, the tears welling up in your eyes — a strange mix of emotions hit him. He dropped the knife to his side, as one of his gloved hands slid up to grip your jaw firmly. "You're fucked up." He whispered, anger and desire clashing in his voice.

You gulped, only just realising that your hands were free. Yet you made no attempt to move them.

His grip tightened on your jaw, leaning in until his face was almost touching yours — his mask, rather. His breath was ragged, mingling with yours. "Is this what you wanted?" he snarled, though the bite was gone from his voice, replaced by confusion, mixed with arousal. "To get me all worked up?”

You whimpered at the pressure on your jaw, your nails digging into your palm, as you clenched your fists. You were so, so painfully aroused.

A rough sound caught in his throat as he stared down at you, fighting an internal battle. He originally just wanted to play with you a little, make you feel worthless — like trash that he could easily dispose of. Disposing you was exactly what he had planned to do, although now that plan was no longer going to be put into action — at least for the time being. 

He threw the knife away, causing it to clatter to the floor. His other hand moved to your hip, digging into the flesh there. "You little…”

You winced at his grip, your nose scrunching up in pain. You stared up at him, tears still evident in your waterline.

That was his last straw. He took off his mask, allowing you a brief glimpse of his face. His last semblance of control shattered, as he cut himself off, his mouth crashing against yours in a bruising kiss. His tongue forced its way in, tangling with yours demandingly. He kissed you like he was trying to punish you, to make you pay for the effect you were having on him.

Your eyes widened in shock, as you gasped loudly into the kiss. You tried to kiss him back, to match his pace — all in vain. His lips were punishing, intending to make it hurt for you. Unfortunately all it did was make you crave for more.

He finally broke the kiss, panting heavily as he rested his forehead against yours. His heart was racing, his mind reeling. "What the fuck is going on…?" he muttered, his voice shaking with a combination of anger and awe. "You're supposed to be scared, not turned on."

You gulped. Your senses were starting to blur, all of them zeroing in on his touch and his voice. It was painstakingly weird how you were reacting — how he was reacting to you. But damn, you enjoyed it — so fucking much.

He pulled back slightly, searching your eyes with a fierce intensity. "Say something, fuck. Explain this." His hands remained gripping you, betraying his conflicted desire and frustration. "I'm trying to terrify you and instead..." He trailed off, shaking his head in disbelief.

When you didn't immediately respond, he growled low in his throat. His hands tightened around you, his body pressed flush against yours. "Fucking talk, you little bitch. Tell me why the fuck you're so turned on right now."

Your breath hitched, your mind going blank. He was insulting you, his voice carrying disgust — you fucking loved it.

A dark smirk crossed his face at your breath hitching, his thumb brushing across your lower lip. "Look at that — all worked up, can't form words…" He leaned in close, his lips brushing against your ear. "Does it make your pussy throb when I threaten you?"

Your eyes widened at the sudden crude language and the bluntness in his voice, your skin pricking, panties practically sticking to your cunt. He was right — your pussy did indeed throb when he threatened you.

Suddenly, you realised that you recognised him. He was Heeseung, one of the most popular guys at your college.

You remembered having interacted with him just once, when he bumped into you back in your first year. He was your senior, who immediately apologised to you after that, helping you pick up your books. He walked with you for a while after that, forcefully engaging you in small talk. He didn't seem to mind your short answers or your eagerness to get rid of him at all, continuing to talk — until a friend of his called him to go to class, causing him to reluctantly stop his rambling, waving you bye and leaving.

You remembered finding out all about him that very day during recess, overhearing his name from the table next to yours in the cafeteria. It was a group of girls, who seemed to be gossiping in what they thought were hushed voices… only, they weren't. You could hear every word.

They were specifically talking about Heeseung, about how hot he was, how smart he was — both book smart and street smart. You remembered mentally rolling your eyes at their fawning, before a certain piece of information had caught your interest.

They mentioned him to be a prude, never showing interest in going into relationships or even casual hook ups. Apparently, he had never gone on a date with anyone, politely turning down everyone who asked. It seemed rather odd of him, since he seemed like the dream package.

This incident had occurred a year before the killings first started. Nevertheless, Heeseung was never the kind of guy who seemed to be capable of something as shockingly gruesome as this. The thought made you sick to your stomach, a nasty feeling under your skin.

You snapped back into the present time, looking up at him, truly looking at him. He barely looked anything like the Heeseung you met during freshman year. His smirk grew wider at the sudden realization on your face, his hand moving to gently squeeze your throat. He was going to have to have a talk with you about college later on. Right now, he had more important things to focus on. For instance, how aroused you were from your life being threatened. "Yeah, that's it. Your little heart races and your pussy gets so fucking wet when I scare you." He leaned back to look at you, his eyes gleaming with a sinister light.

He watched your throat bob as you swallowed, his hand still gently squeezing. "You're a fucking mess, you know that?" Heeseung leaned in again, his lips just a hair's breadth from yours. "A little slut who gets off on being threatened.” His words were a whisper against your lips, his breath hot against your skin. "And you know what the worst part is? I think I might actually like it." He pulled back, his gaze boring into yours with an intensity that made your heart race.

You stared up at him, your breathing slightly shallow, begging him with your eyes to touch you. Heeseung let out a harsh laugh, shaking his head. "Unbelievable." His hand slid from your throat, trailing down your chest teasingly. "Here I am, supposedly threatening you, but we both know it's me who should be terrified.”

Your back arched into his touch, a small whine leaving you. He chuckled darkly at your reaction, his fingers brushing over the swell of your breasts. "Look at that — arching into my touch like a fucking bitch in heat." His hand continued down, tracing the curves of her body possessively.

You whined at his words, your back arching even more. You let out whimpers, shaky exhales leaving you. His eyes flashed with wicked amusement at the sound. "Oh, listen to those whimpers. Pathetic." He pinched your nipple abruptly, twisting just to the point of pain. "You're so fucking desperate for it, aren't you?”

You let out a loud gasp of pain, your body jolting — yet your body begged for more, a whimper eliciting from you the very next second. A smug grin spread across his face as he watched you whimper. "Five seconds ago I was trying to scare you, now look at you fucking trembling for my touch." He bent down, his lips grazing against your neck, as he nipped at your skin. "What does that make you?”

You gulped. His teeth dragged over your pulse point, marking your skin. "It makes you a needy little slut, doesn't it?" His hand finally reached your thigh, gripping it possessively. "A slut who can't get enough of my touch, no matter how much she pretends to be afraid.”

You whined, begging for more. "Mmm… that whine is fucking music to my ears." He abruptly lifted your leg, wrapping it around his waist as he pressed his hard cock against you. "Don't you see what you do to me? All of that bullshit where you pretended to be scared…”

You let out a shaky moan, pressing back against him. Heeseung silenced you with a brutal kiss, biting your lip to keep you quiet as he rubbed himself against you through your clothes. "You think I'm scary?" He growled, his hands roaming over your body possessively.

You let out sharp gasps, your voice coming out shaky. “A b-bit–?”

He bit your bottom lip harder, pulling back with your lip caught between his teeth. "Shut. Up." His voice was rough, commanding. "You don't get to smart-mouth me while you're practically dripping." He let your lip go with a sharp tug, making you whimper.

You bit your lip to muffle any further noises. His eyes darkened dangerously as he noticed your silence, one hand capturing both wrists above your head once again, while the other trailed down to your center. "Not going to lie, but princess? The way you just submitted to me like that?" He pressed against you meaningfully. "Fucking hot.”

You whimpered at his touch, your hips bucking up, pressing into his hand. He pushed his hand inside your shorts, his fingers finding her soaked panties, rubbing against your clit through the fabric. "So fucking wet. And you know what?" He rubbed faster, his thumb pressing against your clit. "I fucking love it." He released your wrists to grab your face, forcing you to look at him.

You let out a loud whimper at his sudden grip. His fingers continued their torturous rhythm, watching your expression carefully. "You're supposed to be terrified, remember?" He leaned in closer, his breath hot against your ear. "Shouldn't you be trying to push me away instead of grinding against my fingers like a good little slut?”

You bit your lip, staring into his eyes, trying to prevent yourself from moaning out loud. His free hand gripped your hip tightly, pulling you flush against him, as he continued his movements. "You're a fucking liar." He growled, his fingers moving faster. "Admit it. You're not afraid of me. You're so fucking turned on.”

You let out a choked moan, grinding back onto his fingers. He grinned sadistically, his fingers finally moving your panties aside to slip inside you. "Mmm, look at that." He curled his fingers, hitting your g-spot perfectly.

You let out a loud gasp, your back arching. You could see stars at the back of your eyes, that's how good it felt. He thrust his fingers deeper, his thumb rubbing your clit in circles. "You're so fucking tight. And wet." He leaned down to bite your neck, hard, sucking a bruise on your skin. "I bet my dick would fit perfectly in this pretty little cunt.”

You clenched around his fingers at his words, the thought of it making you crave even more. His fingers continued their relentless pace, feeling you clench around him. "You haven't answered me." His voice was low and dangerous. "Is that silence because you're afraid? Or because the thought of me fucking you is making you even wetter?”

You gulped, choosing to stay silent. He nuzzled against your neck, his breath hot against your skin, as he spoke. "Let me make it easier for you. Answer this." He thrust his fingers deeper. "Am I scaring you? Or turning you on even more than before?”

You let out a moan at the feeling of his fingers hitting deeper. His fingers curled harder, hitting your g-spot perfectly. "Ah, fuck, that's it." He pulled his fingers out, using the wetness to rub against your clit before shoving them back inside. "You're turned on. Impossibly so.”

He pulled his fingers out again, this time using his thumb to rub your clit in tight circles. "You're so fucking turned on, you can't even answer properly." He pressed two fingers back inside you, curling them to hit her g-spot again.

You let out a loud moan. He chuckled darkly as he felt your moan vibrate through your body. "That's it, princess. Don't hold back." He pumped his fingers harder, the wet squelching noises filling the room. "Your pussy is practically begging to be fucked.”

He added a third finger, stretching your cunt further. "Fuck, look at her." He pulled his fingers out, rubbing your clit with all three before shoving them back inside. "Your cute little cunt is starving for my dick.”

Heeseung increased his pace, fucking you with his fingers mercilessly. "Come all over my fingers," He growled in her ear. "Show me how badly you want it." He bit down harder on your neck, hitting your g-spot perfectly as he curled his fingers.

You let out a loud mewl, your eyes rolling back into your head. You clenched around his fingers, the band in your stomach starting to coil impossibly tight. The squelching noises from where his fingers slid in and out of you at a fast pace, did absolutely nothing, but cause an embarrassed flush to creep all over your face and neck.

He pressed down on your clit with his thumb, rubbing on it sloppily. Your abundant slick helped him do just that, the pace of his fingers growing harsher, mirroring his buddying frustration. A low growl bubbled in his throat, as he forced his fingers to go in deeper, trying to practically force an orgasm out of you. Needless to say, he succeeded soon enough, your back arching with a loud cry, your pussy clamping down on his fingers, your release practically gushing around them.

“That's it…” He coaxed, his fingers still pumping in and out of you, drawing out your release. “Look so pretty like this, all pliant for me.”

Your head was empty, completely devoid of all thoughts, your legs shaking slightly from the overstimulation. He let out a snicker at your state, bringing his hand up, in front of his face. He locked eyes with you, spreading his fingers, letting you see the strings of arousal clinging to them.

Upon seeing your flushed face, a smirk creeped up on his. Maintaining eye contact with you, he leisurely started licking his fingers clean. He dragged his tongue from the bottom of his finger to the top, collecting your cum on it, his saliva replacing it on your fingers.

Your eyes fluttered slightly, mouth parting. Heeseung took that as his que to grab your jaw and hold it open — with the same hand that he had stuffed inside you just moments ago — pushing his thumb inside, pressing down on your tongue. Holding your mouth open, he gathered a wad of spit with his tongue, before leaning down and spitting right into your open mouth. He watched with hooded eyes, as your own rolled back into your head, his spit dripping down to the back of your throat.

You could feel a tingling in your pussy again, empty, aching to be stuffed. Maybe with something more than just his fingers. He noticed the slight change in your body language almost immediately, of course he did — but who was he to deny you, when you were being so good for him?

Heeseung gave you a stern look. “Behave. Be a good girl, and keep still for me, hm?”

You could only gulp in response, as he released your jaw. You watched, as he shook off the black coat — or costume, whatever it was supposed to be. You kept still, your wrists still above your head, your fists clenching tightly, mimicking your thighs. Your eyes raked over his bare torso, your gaze trailing down — eventually resting on his extremely obvious hard on in his boxers. A large patch was already forming on its front from his precum, his cock straining hard against the fabric, begging to be released.

He smirked at your gaze. Teasingly, he ran his palm over his bulge, feeling it twitch under his hand. “Like what you see baby?”

You gulped, your eyes snapping up to his own. Your breath sped slightly, wanting to do something risky. Your life was still very much in danger, but you were willing to take the risk for now.

You slowly sat up, your face now extremely close to his. He raised a brow, an unimpressed gleam in his eyes. Yet, there was a curiosity in them — wanting to know your next move.

Although your next move didn't really impress him. Quite the opposite.

You raised your hand, slowly inching it closer to his boner. His eyes narrowed at your audacity. In a flash, he reached to his side, and picked up the discarded knife, holding it to your throat. He glared down at you, a cold, calculating look in his eyes. “Lay. Back. Down. Unless you want me to slit your throat, cut the rest of your body up, and use your blood as lube to fuck your corpse?”

Your eyes widened at his words, your hand freezing mid air, before quickly falling back to your side. Upon receiving another pointed glare from him, you laid back down, mindful of the knife that was back in his hands. You wanted him — no, needed him to fuck you — you, not your future possibly no-longer-breathing corpse.

Upon ensuring that you weren't up to anymore tricks, he once again put the knife away — out of your reach, but not out of his. Heeseung shrugged off his boxers, his cock immediately slapping against his stomach. It left a trail of precum, which he gathered on his fingers, before wrapping that same hand around his dick. He started to slowly pump it, using his own precum to slick it up.

Noticing your almost pitifully needy expression, he let out an amused scoff, before holding out his hand under her mouth. “Spit.” He ordered in a gruff voice.

Your eyes widened slightly at his command, before you hesitantly obeyed. Gathering a wad of saliva in your mouth, you spit it into his hand, watching with hooded eyes, as he used it to jerk himself off faster.

Once he was done, he spread your thighs again, letting out a confused grunt at how much more force he needed to use as compared to last time. He glared up at you. “You and I both know you want this, princess. So stop trying to deny me what I hunted you for. Or else…”

You bit your lip to suppress a whimper. Were you sick for getting even wetter at his words? Definitely. Should you tell him to stop and possibly escape whatever he was going to do? Obviously. Will you do it? Absolutely not.

In fact, an absolutely brilliant idea struck your magnificent brain. You decided to not obey him. Him, the renowned serial killer, Ghostface. Were you basically signing your own death certificate? Well… no harm in finding out, right?

You tried to close your legs shut, something which immediately earned you a nasty glare from him. His jaw clenched tightly, as he forcefully shoved your legs apart again. His hand reached for the knife, your eyes widening at the sight. “Seems like someone hasn't learnt their lesson yet…”

You tried to beg him to not hurt you, but the words died in your throat when he pressed the knife to it. A creepy smile adorned his face, as he caressed your face in a gentle manner, a sharp contrast to the knife to your throat. “Let me spell it out for you–” Right as he said those words, he grabbed your wrists tightly, holding you under him firmly, the knife lifting from your throat. You got confused for a second, before a scream tore out of you.

He was carving something on your stomach.

He shallowly carved his initials onto your stomach, laughing as you screamed. “Squirming will only make it hurt more~” He almost sang, his tone causing you to sob.

He was finally done, watching the blood flow out of the wound, almost moaning at the sight. “Fuck baby, do you even realise how hot you look right now?”

You hated it, every single bit of it. You didn't want him to fuck you anymore, hell, you felt ashamed of yourself for ever wanting it. You felt disgusted beyond words by yourself, for having him carve his initials on your stomach to make you realise the kind of guy you were dealing with. He wasn't some hot fictional guy from the books you read, he was an actual serial killer — someone who could quite literally kill you as and when he pleased.

Heeseung seemed to sense your inner monologue. He snickered. “Suddenly regretting everything baby? That's cute… it's as if you believe you had a choice in this in the first place. Cute.”

You wanted to scream, cry, sob — all at the same time. How did you even manage to get yourself into this mess?

You didn't have much time to ponder, as he suddenly sliced his knife through your panties, finally ripping them off you. He shrugged off his own boxers, rubbing the tip of his cock along the arousal coating your puffy folds. A shiver ran down your spine, causing you to bite down on your lip. You hated it, you didn't want it — but your body couldn't deny how good it felt.

Heeseung wasn't any less affected than you. He let out a groan, his eyes shutting briefly. “See how good that feels baby? You think you don't want it, but your body says something different. See how your pussy keeps dripping all over my cock?”

You squeezed your eyes shut, tears welling up in them — tears from exactly what, you didn't know. Was it embarrassment? Pain? Pleasure? Neither did you know, nor were you keen on finding out.

With his bottom lip pulled between his teeth, he slowly pushed himself in, groaning from how easily he slid in, thanks to your slick. He let out a rough noise from the back of his throat. “Look at how your cunt is sucking me in like a slut. You sure you don't want this, baby?”

His knife had returned to your throat, his other hand gripping your hip. You could only bite your lip to muffle a whimper, your tears having broken free. He felt — good. You just wished this happened under different circumstances. When he wasn't cutting you up or threatening your life as Ghostface, maybe.

He bottomed out, burying himself to the hilt. He let out a groan, his eyes falling to your stomach. They widened, noticing something other than his initials he had just carved on it. There was a bulge on your stomach. “Holy shit…”

As if in a trance, he pressed down on it with his hand that wasn't holding the knife, watching as you involuntarily arched your back. He let out a laugh in disbelief. “Would you look at that? Had no idea you were this sexy, princess.”

He didn't wait to see your reaction, pulling out slowly, before slamming back inside. He watched your body jerk at the force, the bulge disappearing and reappearing. It was so, so hot.

He put the knife away, just out of reach of you. He gripped your hips with both hands, once again pulling almost completely out, watching as the bulge disappeared, before slamming back in, watching it reappear. He effectively tore a moan out of you this time, watching in amusement as you quickly slammed a hand onto your mouth, your eyes looking mortified. It was as if you were still trying to convince yourself that you didn't want this.

You were so cute. So. Fucking. Cute.

He pulled out again, pushing back in with much more force than before, setting a fast pace. He watched with a perverse amusement, as you let out a choked scream, flailing your arms above your head aimlessly, as if looking for something to grab on to. He fastened his pace, grunts leaving his throat with every thrust.

Your screaming was gradually turning into moans, the undeniable pleasure coursing through you making your head spin. It didn't help how the room was filled with wet slapping sounds from where the two of you kept connecting, the sting from the cut on your stomach barely there anymore. You felt hot, an insatiable thirst in your pussy, being quenched by his unforgiving pace.

His thrusts never once faltered, the bruising grip that he had on your hips was starting to hurt — just a bit. He let out a small groan, his eyes once again falling on your stomach, the bulge disappearing and reappearing in it at a comically fast pace. “Hah — look s’fucking cute like t-this — just lying there like a pliant little whore — taking my cock — fuck–”

He was cut off by your pussy clenching around him, his groan cutting through the constant wet slapping from where you both kept connecting. Encouraged by your reaction, he sped up, reaching an almost animalistic pace.

Your head was starting to go blank from his pace, the way he continued to pound into your sobbing cunt had you seeing stars. His name left your mouth in a breathy moan, causing his eyes to pop out, him almost spilling his load inside you right then and there.

Without stopping his unforgiving pace, he grabbed your jaw in one hand, his nails digging into your cheeks. “Say it again — c'mon baby, moan my name again — let me hear you, fuck–”

He was cut off by you whimpering, the unmistakable sound of his name leaving your mouth for the second time. With a growl, he gripped both of your thighs, throwing your legs over his shoulders. The new position allowed him to reach deeper, hitting your spot with every thrust. It had you seeing stars, uncontrollable moans and his name falling from your lips like a mantra.

He reached one of his hands down to rush harsh circles on your hardened bundle of nerves, trying to force an orgasm out of you. “C'mon baby, cum for me — squeeze my cock harder, fucking cum for me–”

The band in your stomach tightened to an impossible level, ready to snap. He pinched your clit, hard, continuing to rub dizzying circles around it. He delivered a harsh slap to it, causing you to finally topple over the edge.

Your ears were filled with a loud ringing noise, vision going white. You clenched around his length, gripping it in a vice like grip. Your cum flowed around his length, coating it completely. He groaned, as he kept pumping in and out of you, a white ring forming at the base of his cock. The sight had him pistoning out of you at a ridiculously fast pace, before burying himself to the hilt inside you. Warm, thick ropes of cum erupted from his tip, painting your insides white. He slowly grinded his hips, still inside you, ensuring that none of it fell out.

He stayed like that for a moment, before pulling out his softening length with a hiss. He fucked his cum back inside with his fingers, enjoying the way your body racked with shudders, little whines escaping you from the sensitivity.

He slowly sat up, admiring your spread out body. He brushed his hand through your hair, rubbing the sweat off your forehead. “You know,” He started, looking down at you with an unsettling smile. “I never fucked anyone I was going to kill before. Never felt attracted enough to them. But you–” He hesitated for a second, before speaking again. “I used to have a crush on you back in college. Remember when I bumped into you once? It was on purpose. I needed an excuse to talk to you. It really hurt me when I realised that you weren't interested in doing so, you know? You were the reason I never went out with anyone, either.”

You gulped, staring back at him. He had an unreadable expression on his face. “I started this — this killing streak, to get your attention. But then I started enjoying it too much — fantasizing what you would look like, all cut up and bleeding prettily for me, begging for me to let you live. It got me so fucking hard, you know? Jerked myself off to that thought so many nights. Until tonight — I knew I had to get you — kill you. Play with you a little first. Didn't think it would escalate to this though.”

He grinned, his eyes holding a kind of craziness that sent a chill down your spine. “Maybe I won't kill you…” He murmured, his hand caressing your cheek. “I’ll just… keep you. My pretty little toy, mine to use and play with, as and how I feel like. Isn't that right, princess?”

[moogghost]

people on here need to start tagging their unreality posts as unreality or i'm gonna start biting people on sight

[nonsensology]

Later at the wish granting ceremony, CEO Magnifico announces he’s greenlit Ice Age 6 and five more live-action remakes.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _

There are so many cancelled and unrealized projects that Disney is sitting on, that they do not benefit from in any way by keeping them locked up tight. They really ought to just let them go if they don't have any intentions of doing anything with them.

Incidentally, I could never agree with the mentality of “Magnifico is actually the hero, and Asha is the TRUE villain” that a lot of people seem to have. I drew my comic based on this post. I feel like if more people had been aware of this possible interpretation, they wouldn’t have sympathized with Magnifico.

Does Wish have bad writing? Yes, it does. And it’s because of that bad writing that every single character suffers. What I think happened is that, as a result of said bad writing, Asha became a character that’s so uncompelling and lacks uniqueness that she ends up a blank slate for audiences to project their frustrations with the movie onto. King Magnifico on the other hand, is probably the most interesting and entertaining character, due in no small part to Chris Pine’s performance, and so the audience is much more sympathetic towards him and willing to ignore his flaws.

One of Asha’s problems as a character is that she doesn’t really contribute much to the story. By contrast, Magnifico’s downfall is brought about entirely as a result of his own actions. Magnifico is in fact not a good leader, because he gives in to paranoia and temptation, acts in a very unprofessional manner, and escalates the conflict to an absurd degree.

Please note, Asha does not get upset that Magnifico refuses to grant her grandfather’s wish, nor does she ever demand that Magnifico needs to grant every wish. She gets upset that he insinuates that her grandfather might have dangerous intentions, and because he does not have a convincing reason why he doesn’t return wishes that he won’t grant. Rather than calmly explaining his reasoning to her, Magnifico rudely dismisses Asha and then blows up at her.

If Magnifico were a good leader, he would have explained to each person WHY he won’t grant their wish, and given them advice on alternatives. As it stands, he knows full well that everyone expects their wish to be granted. It’s why they even came to Rosas in the first place, it is the literal reason he even built his kingdom. He clearly makes a big spectacle out of the wish granting ceremonies, which every citizen visibly goes wild for. He never elaborates to anyone his specific standards for the wishes he chooses to grant, other than a broad statement of "for the good of the kingdom". In his regard, Magnifico reminds me of bureaucratic systems that never provide every option or solution upfront, with their logic being "you didn't ask".

Not to mention, he literally tells Asha, "People think wishes are just ideas. But no, no, they are a part of your heart. The very best part." He knows, for a fact, how important wishes are to everyone. But the movie's awful writing makes him think the best solution to dealing with wishes that MIGHT have dangerous consequences, is to just hoard them. All that returning the ungranted wishes will accomplish is returning the memory of what the wish even is, that's literally it, and the people will be no better off than they were before they gave Magnifico their wish.

I dunno about you guys, but whenever I watched stories that preached “be careful what you wish for”, my takeaway was never “your desires could be dangerous and you should never pursue them for fear of disaster”, I always thought the stories were telling us, “beware of anything that promises instant gratification, because it’s usually too good to be true, and will cost you more than you will gain”. While the things you want in life may have disastrous consequences, you won’t really know until you try to pursue them through your own honest efforts, and not through “magical” shortcuts. That’s how we learn and grow, through trial and error. 

As it currently stands from my point of view, when people say "Magnifico has every right to keep ungranted wishes" it looks like they're unintentionally saying, “The Disney Corporation has every right to keep your work and ideas, because you willingly and legally handed them over. Tough luck if you regret the deal you were given. No takesies backsies!”

While I have found no evidence to confirm that the filmmakers intended for Magnifico to be a criticism of Corporate Disney, considering the inclusion of the animation sweatshop scene in Pixar's Inside Out 2, I think the probability is likely. (Not to mention, when Asha shows Magnifico her little flipbook animation, he dismissively remarks “Do we consider that a talent?”)

Please note, everyone is free to rewrite and reinterpret Magnifico however they want. He's just a fictional character after all, and fan content is supposed to be for fun. I just think it's funny how defensive people get over him a he appears in the final movie. They say he deserved better, and I agree, but we have very different ideas of what "better" means. In fact, I think every character in Wish deserved better, because again, they were all victims of bad writing. My problem isn't that they took a good man and made him arbitrarily "evil", it's that they didn't make him evil enough from the very beginning. Remember those deleted scenes featuring a villainous Magnifico with better writing, along with an evil Amaya that he can play off of? I'm fairly certain that everyone unanimously agreed these deleted scenes were much better than the final movie, and yet some still insist that Magnifico should have been a hero all along. I dunno, it's a funny dichotomy. 

EDIT: A few days after posting I came across this video essay supporting the interpretation of Magnifico as a critique of Corporate Disney and I loved it. Please go watch it!

[elixirina]

based on this request! | batsis!reader headcanons

you’ve been bruce’s daughter since you were born (duh!), and honestly, it’s hard to imagine him not being your dad. despite his brooding nature, he’s incredibly soft when it comes to you.

you’re younger than jason but older than tim, perfectly wedged between the two in age—and in chaos. your siblings would probably describe you as their comedic relief. they love the energy you bring.

with bruce and his vigilante lifestyle, he made it a point to keep you safe while balancing being your father. he may be emotionally reserved, but he’s always been fiercely protective of you.

you’ve been trained in basic self-defense since you were young—bruce’s paranoia runs deep—but he’s always been adamant about you having a choice in how involved you are with the family’s activities.

even though you’ve chosen to stay off the streets, you’re part of the family’s mission in your own way. whether it’s gathering intel, coordinating from the batcomputer, or just keeping the atmosphere light during debriefs, you have a knack for making everyone feel grounded. due to that fact, you’ve grown particularly close to barbara.

your laugh is the kind of thing that can cut through tension like a knife. even bruce has cracked a smile on rare occasions, though he’ll deny it if anyone points it out.

as the sibling closest to you in age, tim naturally became your partner-in-crime. you both share a deep appreciation for dry humor, clever banter, and coffee-fueled chaos.

while tim can be a workaholic, you’re the one who drags him away from his screens when he’s pushing himself too far. your go-to tactic? threatening to unplug his computer while holding his coffee hostage.

while physical affection isn’t a strong suit in the family, you’ve always been the exception. you’ll hug damian just to annoy him, ruffle jason’s hair to mess with him, lean on bruce’s shoulder when you’re feeling particularly sappy, and always sandwich between steph and cass when watching a movie.

“not the hair!” jason grumbles when he feels your hand on his head.

you once convinced damian to dress up as a cat for halloween. it took bribery and a lot of persistence, but the photo evidence was so worth it.

“stop touching my sword,” he snapped one afternoon. “i’m just checking if it’s real,” you replied, twirling it like a baton.

while you’re not out on the streets like your siblings, your role in the family dynamic is just as important. you’re the emotional glue that holds everyone together when tensions run high.

after jason returned as red hood, you were one of the first people he felt comfortable opening up to. 

“you’re annoying,” jason muttered after you’d cracked another joke during a mission briefing. “yeah, but you’re smiling,” you shot back, earning a reluctant chuckle.

your bond with bruce is one of the most wholesome aspects of your life. while he struggles to express his emotions, he’s always shown his love through actions—like staying up late to check on you or surprising you with your favorite takeout after a rough day.

“thanks, dad,” you said once, catching him off guard with a hug. his response was quiet but heartfelt: 

“you don’t have to thank me. you’re my daughter.”

moral of the story, love your family. cause they sure as hell love you!!!

[gay-dorito-dust]

imagine Ford removing the tattoos Bill made him get and replacing them with something you designed, even if it’s just something you doodled one day and he really liked it

Ford promised that he would never get another tattoo, the ones he already had were both embarrassing and painful reminders of the man he use to be; a man who pushed everyone into leaving him due to his obsession with making himself a recognisable name to make up for the one he missed out on due to Stanley’s accident.

The tattoo he regrets the most was the one Bill made him get, which didn’t translated to what Bill claimed it did but something else entirely. Ford hated looking at it as it only reminded him of painful memories, memories of living in a constant state of paranoia and distrust of anyone and anything even his own flesh and blood. And while Stanley forgives him for acting the way he did when he came back, Ford only felt all the more guiltier for it.

So when he was honing through his journal, he stoped on a page when he spotted a drawing that was neither his, Dippers or Mabel’s but instead yours and Ford felt himself smile. It might’ve not been the best drawing of an axolotl, but the fact that you tried spoke volumes that touched Ford deeply as he rubbed his thumb across the drawing softly as though any harder and it would smudge. Ford had known for a while that he had become fond of you, and it wasn’t difficult to see why that was because who wouldn’t become fond of you?!

You were sweet, kind, compassionate, creative and never failed to help Dipper and Mabel within a moments notice should they call your name, you even got along with his brother Stanley and Fiddleford. You were just…well everything and Ford couldn’t help but wish he could be more like you in many aspects, but while he was looking at you through rose tinted glasses, believing you could do no wrong only to look at your axolotl drawing and was reminded that you were just a human as him: and to be human is to have flaws and complexity within their very existence.

And while Ford said he didn’t want any more tattoos, he decided that one more wouldn’t hurt and made sure to let the artist know he wanted this weird looking axolotl to cover the tattoo bill made him get, replacing something negative, obsessive and painful with something sweet, beautiful and goofy. And within the appropriate time, Ford walked out of the tattoo parlour with a funky little axolotl to remind him where his heart lied as he looked down at it fondly, with you and his family. Forever and always.

Mabel loved it.

Dipper was asking if it held any meaning and while Stanley did laugh at the tattoo, he was happy to see Ford get rid of the mark that Bill had left over him.

You? You immediately recognised the axolotl as one of your own drawings and smiled brightly at Ford, who only smiled back at you knowingly for that was all you needed to recognise his feelings.

[sapphireis]

Dark/Yan Aemond HCs

ೃ⁀➷ TW/CW: DARK CONTENT, 18+ (MINORS/AGELESS/BLANK BLOGS DON’T INTERACT), Bad English, Toxic Relationship, Implied AFAB Reader (talk about pregnancy and stuff in a part, but for the rest pretty GN), Jealousy, Manipulation, Breeding Kink a bit, OOC?, let me know if I need to add more TW/Tags ♡ My blog contains dark content, be careful when interacting/following! ➳ Characters: Aemond Targaryen

⤠ I'd do anything for you, Mrs. Highness (Aemond) ⤟ Masterlist (soon!) ⤠ None ⤟

hello hotd fandom... pls be nice to me since this is my first time posting smth about this fandom hndhhd and I'm also very insecure about my writing rn, anyway... i wrote this mostly for myself so I'm sorry LMAO

He's so possessive and protective of you. To the point where you can't go anywhere without guards who are loyal to him, due to his paranoia. Aemond would prefer to be your guard all the time, but alas he is unfortunately a very busy man so he has to trust the guards

When you are forced to do parties or appear in public Aemond is always around you or watching you, his eye never really leaves your figure. He always has his hands over you either on your lower back, guiding you where he wants, or on your waist. To remind you who you belong to.

Heleana and Alicent are the only one who he lets be around you when he is gone to keep you company, his brother Aegon? AH. No. Maybe Daeron, but Aegon absolutely not. Why would you want to spend time with a drunken fool?

In truth he is insanely jealous about everything and everyone, including his own family. He trusts his sister and mother to not pry too much into your relationship, and in fact his mother is more of an enabler for him. She is just so glad her son finally found someone he loves and cares about, so that he isn't alone anymore. How could she deny him such happiness?

Will try to get the two of you married instant. As soon as he saw you Aemond knew he had to marry you, it doesn't matter if you are highborn or not to him. Much to his mother and grandsire's displeasure of course

Once you are married of course he's gonna make you pregnant if possible. You wouldn't try to get away from him with a child on its way no? When he has endless ways of helping you with a babe, both during the pregnancy, the birth, and the years to come. Why have it the hard way when you can live a life of luxury?

Talking about a life of luxury, Aemond will give you anything you might need and more to keep you compliant. However, some things are not negotiable like for example what you wear: its either green or sapphire blue, no other clothes are tolerated for him. If you want to be more transgressive you can wear something outside of that, though the consequences...

He's so manipulative and wouldn't care to bring the situation in his favour, and would absolutely use your own emotion against you. "If you are hurt imagine how I feel" and stuff like that is often said when you two are fighting often over nothing, if not directly about Aemond's way of treating you.

You think it's unfair, Aemond thinks you don't understand how he feels. There is a war coming and he won't always be there protecting you since he will be on the battlefield. Its only fair that he fears for your safety, no? What kind of husband would he be otherwise?

This work belongs to @/sapphireis, do not repost, translate, copy, rewrite or share on tiktok without my permission. Reblogs are appreciated and encouraged♡

[huffelpuff210]

Ours Soft Dark Stucky x Omega Reader

Soft Dark Alpha Stucky x Omega Reader

Warning: Stalking, kidnapping, drugging, confinement, dark themes, Non Con, man handling, threats, mentions of past abuse, 

Summary: Day by Day Both Bucky and Steve feel like something is missing in their lives that is until they meet you. 

You work as a RN at the nearby hospital, you were just leaving an agonizing fourteen hour shift, dead tired, 

You were walking past a store, where there were TV’s you could watch from outside of the window,

The news was on, 

“This is Becky reporting from Stark tower where in a few minutes Alpha Tony Stark is going to make his big announcement.” The news lady says, 

You stand there with your arms crossed, a lot of people on the street were crowding around as well, 

The Alpha’s in Stark tower are a big deal to everyone so when they make an announcement it’s normally a big uproar 

Tony walks out to the stage, 

“Good afternoon everyone, as everyone may have been aware, the decrease in Omega’s in the past decade have declined drastically.” He says 

It was no secret that Omega’s appear less and less each year, in fact you read in the paper that there is 1 out of 5% that anyone would come across one, You were in fact one, but you take suppressants and wear a special perfume to mask the smell, 

“So as of today, I have signed a bill passing that if you are an Omega you must register, due to the decrease in our species this law is in effect as of today.” Tony says 

You eyes widen, 

“We also have a stations in each clinic to ensure you can find a place to register.” He says 

This made your blood boil, You didn’t like Alpha’s to begin with, Your father and brother’s made sure of that, always talking down to you like you were nothing compared to them, abusing you any chance they got, telling you, that you were nothing but a tool a mutt that your only purpose in life was to breed, 

And here is another example of how much you hate and yet fear alpha’s they think they can control Omega’s, 

“If any Omega’s fail to comply we will have no choice but to place you in a special program.” Tony says 

“That will be all thank you.” He says walking off stage, 

You shake your head and make your way to your apartment, but you couldn’t help this feeling that someone was watching you, You stop in your tracks, to look around listening, smelling, but there were too many scents, you brush it off as fatigue and paranoia. 

You finally enter your apartment, it wasn’t much given the salary to make, barely scraping by, but it was the only way, the only way to avoid detection not just from Alpha’s but your family that has been on the hunt for you since you ran away when you were sixteen, you are now twenty one, but they still continue to hunt you like an animal, 

All because you are an Omega, 

After taking your suppressant and showering, you are laying in bed when a smell catches your attention, It smelled like pine, and cinnamon, you sit up quickly, it wasn’t your father or brother’s but you don’t notice the smell which causes you to panic, 

You peek through the curtains not seeing a single person, you make sure everything is locked, 

You peek out the peep hole at your door, no one, 

You feel your heart rate slow down hoping you were just imagining it, 

Bucky just couldn’t believe his luck, he was on his way to the tower, when a smell caught his attention, sure it was very faint but his sense of smell is stronger than most Alpha’s it smelled like vanilla with a hint of cedar

“Omega...” He whispers

He finds a small petite woman, with long dark hair and green eyes, she was beautiful, but by the smell she’s definitely on something she shouldn’t be on, 

He opens his phone to call Steve as he follows her from a distance, 

“Steve, Your not going to believe what I found.” He says with a smirk on his lips, 

You didn’t go to work for a few days, you were getting paranoid, the smell kept getting stronger as if someone was in your apartment or on the fire escape at the window, 

But your boss called you today, telling you if you didn’t come in today you were fired, 

So you cautiously leave your apartment, just as you were locking the door an arm wrapped around your neck, with a hand covering your mouth, 

You elbow the attacker causing him to grunt, but he didn’t loosen his grip, 

“Shhh, sweetheart, we’re here now.” You hear a man’s voice whisper in your ear, 

suddenly there was a jab of a needle in your upper arm, you watch as the liquid is injected in your arm, 

“Everything will be alright.” Another voice says 

you feel your limbs give way, and your vision blur slowly slipping into darkness, 

Bucky catches you as you fall, picking you up bridal style, your head against his chest, 

Steve moves your dark hair out of your face, 

“She’s beautiful.” Steve says 

“Told you.” Bucky says 

“She’s light though.” Bucky says again, 

“It’s alright she has us now.” Steve says placing his hand on Bucky’s shoulder, 

Bucky nods, as they both smile down at you

[sweet-as-an-angel]

Dark! Yandere! Leon Kennedy Headcanons

Warnings: 18+ (just to be safe), Possessive Behaviour, Obsessive Behaviour, Mention of Plotting, Mentions of Smut, Non-Explicit Depictions of Smut, Mention of Dirty Talk, Mention of Overstimulation, Mention of Choking, Mention of Power Imbalance, Mention of Manhandling, Mention of Aftercare, Dominant! Leon, Rough Leon, Feral Leon, Paranoid Leon, Leon just wants Validation <3, No Pronouns used for Reader except ‘You'.

SFW

Possessive doesn’t even begin to describe how Leon acts around you.

Territorial may be how you describe him to your friends – a compliment, really.

But the fact that he never lets you out of his sight and worries about you whenever you’re not in his immediate vicinity is…telling, to say the least.

Calls you every 30 minutes on the rare occasion that you’re not together.

“Are you okay ?”, “Are you hurt ?”, “Do you need me to come over ?”

Paranoid aaah Leon.

But he means well – you know that much.

Once, you joked that the two of you “Might as well move in together if we’re going to talk this much !”

And that started putting ideas in Leon’s head.

He does have the notion of staging a break-in at your current home address so that you’ll feel unsafe and be more likely to move in with him.

But he doesn’t want you being traumatised like he is. Not by his hand.

But can you blame his rather questionable behaviour ?

After everything he went through in RE2 and RE4, you’d have been surprised if he didn’t turn out the way he had.

Despite all that, he’s a good boyfriend :>

Does anything and everything you ask him to, without question.

Scarily loyal.

And he expects you to be the same.

That being said, he doesn’t get jealous, as such.

Rather, he believes that the guy who’s been glancing at you every minute or so is planning on attacking you.

Not on Leon’s watch.

Scary dog privilege. Though your ‘scary dog’ is rather pretty; he just has an intimidating glare and figure.

Due to this paranoia and constant anxiety about your health and wellbeing, Yandere! Leon prefers an S/O who’s reclusive, one that doesn’t venture beyond their home very often.

It makes it easier for him to survey you, makes him feel more at ease knowing that you’re tucked away someplace safe.

Well, not entirely safe. Leon firmly believes that you can never be entirely avoidant of disaster unless you’re with him 24/7.

Not sure if you’ve noticed, but Leon has a *sliiight* saviour complex.

He wants to feel strong and dependable – to counteract all that the events of RE2 forced him to feel.

While this manifests in his wild daydreams about saving you from some undead horror straight out of a zombie movie (or real life, in Leon’s case), this manifests in more subtle situations in your day-to-day life.

He’ll open a jar for you, or reach something off the top shelf (regardless of whether you can reach it or not).

Don’t ask how he knew you were going to have trouble opening that particular jar, or that you wouldn’t reach your favourite mug that was placed a few shelves higher than it was yesterday.

It makes his chest swell with pride and strokes his ego.

But, as much as Leon likes it when you’re dependent on him, he does want you to have a fighting chance if the unthinkable should happen – that he’s not around to save you.

He tries teaching you self-defence, which, while you appreciate the thought, you tell him is unnecessary.

Yes, you know (vaguely) about what happened during Leon’s missions (though he is typically quite scant on the specifics, not wanting to worry you or drive you from him, as selfish as he believes that desire is).

But when you tell him that “I don’t need to know self-defence,” and Leon, cautious, asks ‘why ?’ you hit him with an answer far better than anything he’s fantasised about. And trust when I say that Leon has fantasised about you. A lot.

“Because I have you to protect me !”

As well-intentioned and innocent as your statement is, something within Leon breaks. Snaps.

NSFW

He has you under him quicker than you can blink.

His territorial, possessive nature filters through into the way he claims you – marks you.

He doesn’t bite you, though.

Years of trauma with the snapping jaws of zombies has put him off the idea.

But he sucks bruises into your skin, goes harder than intended when he turns feral, gripping your thighs, your arms, your sides – anything accessible to him.

And though he tries his best never to hurt you, he does end up losing himself whenever he gets like this.

Not that you mind.

His lips dip beside your head, and you can hear him say “You’re mine. All mine,” as he holds your body hostage.

He has a lot of endurance and an abundance of excess energy (usually emotional), so he ends up overstimulating you a good deal of the time.

Just pounding into you long after you’ve finished, his face buried into your neck, breathing becoming uneven as he works another euphoric release out of the both of you.

Say his name and he’ll go wild.

“Say it again,” he pants, his chest to yours as he takes you. “Tell me I’m the only one who can protect you – the only one who– aah! –you love–”

I understand why people say Leon’s a switch with bottom lean, but consider that time in RE4 when he said that “Following a lady’s lead just isn’t my style,”

You can’t say that there isn’t at least a remnant of top energy in there.

Hence, Leon – at the very least Yandere! Leon – can be quite…dominant.

As evidenced above.

Also evidenced by the fact that he gets off on the fact you’re weaker or smaller than him.

Doesn’t matter how tall you are, how much muscle you have; Leon is stronger both mentally and physically.

Though, this is somewhat of a guilty pleasure. But he has no problem letting you know what he’s thinking.

“God, you’re so weak,” he says, voice straining with his release hanging over him.

“Say it – say you need me; that I’m the only one who can take care of you, who can make you cry like this,”

Maybe he grabs you by the throat. Maybe he chokes you a little when you’re taking too long to answer.

But, regardless of how rough he can get, Leon is a certified King of Aftercare™.

Feels absolutely abysmal if he thinks he’s hurt you, or pushed you too far.

And your part of the aftercare is purely emotional. You have to convince him that you’re fine, you’re happy. And maybe enjoyed being manhandled a little…

Masterlist Masterpost

Yandere Masterlist Juicy Original Content <3

[ngage2003]

The idea that Masky could be anything but an alter was always a bit laughable to me, especially when considering how much Tim hits DID key points. Yeah, it probably wasn't intentional, but it doesn't change the fact that Tim is a character with DID rep.

Like, we know the Operator can induce paranoia and fuck with people's brain electricity to induce seizures, but that wouldn't explain why Tim's masked persona literally :

◉ Has different mannerisms from him ◉ Seemingly has different verbality from him ◉ Only shows up coinciding with specific triggers (I.E. seizures, and imo also Operatorture which could be a trigger tbh due to it happening in the past) ◉ Has different (and seeming coherent) memories and emotions separate from Tim's, which even after seeing footage of Tim can't remember

Sidenote: Saying this judged on the fact Masky concretely hates Alex while Tim doesn't (at least not fully, he empathizes with him and tries to reason with him until the end). Also basing it off the fact Masky never works with Brian again after him inducing a seizure in Tim, along with him always remembering to wear his jacket and mask, and knowing the way to the hospital and his room there, along with how to drive, etcetera etcetera

When combined with the fact that we know Tim had a rough childhood—his mom is only mentioned like three times, and it is implied she put him in a psych ward at around 10-11 years old based on the fact he is college in 2003 and was admitted in 1995, which doesn't imply good parenting and thats not even getting into the Operator harassing him ToT—it seems like Masky is just such a textbook example of an alter in my opinion, and Tim is 100% a case for DID. The coding is practically being screamed through a megaphone. Its like Theodora from Haunting of Hill House levels of coding, man, except for having freeloaders in your head rather than being a muff diver.

[hello-eden]

Dcxdp #16

 Misunderstanding that justice league think Ellie/Dani is the mother of Dan.

Time travel hero finds out they're already being a phantom running around, with the same powers. They meet Ellie who was taking over amity's superheroing due to Danny doing work in the ghost Zone. Elle says that Phantom is a name that is passed out, so the heroes think that the name Phantom is going to be her kid in the future.  Someone mentions the fact that plasmas took credit for the creation of Dan and they ask Ellie about it.  They don't mention the time travel or the evil future but they do ask if she knows anything about plasmas, when Ellie reveals that that's technically her father they get very concerned.

 Ellie would find out later about the misunderstanding and goes fully into it, especially if Dan is hanging out in his clone body with Vlad. Ellie would probably ask Dan what happened in the future for everyone to be this concerned. She knew about the evil future but she didn't realize that there were time traveling Heroes that went back to stop it. Dan and Ellie would team up to cause as much chaos and paranoia to the Heroes after they find out.