#feeling white guilt hardcore

[saint-mona]

Aloha from Kaua'i🌺🌴🌈

[sanguineterrain]

in the buff | jason todd

Summary: The one where you learn firsthand that Jason Todd sleeps in the nude.

Pairing: Jason Todd x gn!reader 

Word count: 2.7k

Warnings/tags: best friend jason, awkwardness, nudity, reader hardcore thirsting over jaytodd, love confessions, humor (attempts at it, anyway), silliness. inspired by this post!

the divider

There's been a huge (blessed) development in the drug ring case that you and Jason are working on. You can hardly sleep now.

Normally, you'd call or text Jason, even though he's usually already in the know. It's possible that you just like having an excuse to call him, but who can confirm such a thing?

But it's late, probably too late to call, considering Jason doesn't answer his phone unless it's pinged directly to his helmet after a certain time, courtesy of his family being "a buncha jackasses" (his words, obviously).

But maybe it's not too late for a visit. After all, Jason patrols late, and has insane insomnia. He very well could be awake at this late hour. And he's never minded you dropping by before.

In truth, you haven't seen Jason in a few days and you feel restless now when you go longer than a day without seeing each other. You're not quite sure why that is.

So here you are, disabling the window alarm on Jason's apartment. Partly for a case, partly for your own benefit.

It takes a few minutes but you manage to open the window without anyone calling the police or whacking you with a broom. You slide open the window mostly soundlessly. Then you wait. The room remains dark and quiet.

You're pretty proud of yourself actually. It's not that you're green when it comes to spycraft, but you're certainly no Batman.

Still, you've managed to sneak into Jason's apartment without waking him. The Red Hood. You peek in to check if he's really asleep.

And he is, dark hair stark against the white pillow. It sticks out in messy tufts. You can't see past Jason's neck and his freckled arms, illuminated by the orange streetlight outside. You put your laptop bag on the floor.

He's sleeping on his stomach, facing away from you, but you're very endeared by how he's curled up under his sheet, hands tucked under his pillow. If you went really close to his face, you could count his eyelashes. Jason has such pretty eyelashes.

That's a perfectly normal thought to have about your best friend, right? Boys have pretty eyelashes. You're just making an observation.

You're bewildered by how cold the room is, surprised that Jason can withstand such a temperature. Maybe it's a Pit thing.

You watch him for a moment longer. Guilt pools in your gut. Are you really going to wake him when he's probably just gone to bed in the last hour? It takes Jason so long to fall asleep, you know that.

...

No, you should let him sleep. You can work on the case in the morning.

You bend down to get your laptop bag. In that time, the light flicks on.

You flinch, turn around, and find yourself staring down the barrel of a gun.

Said gun is held by an extremely naked Jason Todd.

"Oh my God!" you say at the same time Jason realizes his mistake.

"What the fuck!" he shouts, grabbing a pillow to cover himself.

But not before you get an eyeful of your best friend's, er, weaponry.

"Why are you naked?" you shout, gaze darting everywhere. Good Lord, it's seared into your retinas. You're never getting the image of Jason's dick out of your brain.

"Why are you in my apartment?" Jason snaps back.

"No, my question is way more urgent," you say.

"No the hell it's not! You broke in! I'm allowed to be naked in my apartment!"

"Okay. Alright. I came because there's been a development in our case. I thought we could work on it together but when I realized you were asleep for real, I decided to leave."

Jason rolls his eyes. "You know I'm a light sleeper. I just went to bed. I was up late.”

Realization strikes you. Could it be...?

"Oh my God. Do you have someone here?" you ask, voice sinking to a whisper.

"I have you here," Jason says irritably.

"No, like—" You make a hole with one hand and stick a finger into it. "Y'know..."

"Jesus, no!" Jason's face twists in disgust. "C'mon!"

"Okay, chill out, Jay-Jay. It'd be fine if you did. I can keep a secret," you say, shrugging. People have sex. You know that. You've never thought about Jason having sex, but you suppose it's possible. Why not? Just because you've never had sex and you always hoped that Jason would be your first doesn't mean that he would. If he's moved on in his life, then you should too.

Jason scoffs. "Yeah, okay. You think anybody would get into bed with a headcase like me?"

Hope rekindles. You're not behind. Jason's right there with you, virginity firmly intact.

He puts the safety back on the gun, squishing the pillow against himself with his elbow. You watch in fascination at his multitasking. Jason starts to turn around to put the gun behind the headboard before clearly thinking twice about mooning you.

"So... why are you naked?" you ask, respectfully keeping your eyes north of the equator.

"If you must know, I sleep in the nude. Now turn around."

You don't turn around. "In the nude?"

Jason's eye twitches. "Yes, nude. It's better for your body and it's more comfortable and I don't—"

You pull a face. "Who says in the nude? How old are you, a hundred?"

"That's what you're harping on?" Jason asks. "You broke into my apartment!"

You hold up a finger. "I didn't break in, I disarmed the alarm like you taught me."

"Yeah, which was only for emergencies. This isn't an emergency. Now turn around!"

So you turn around. You hear the pillow fall and the image returns. You recite the alphabet backwards. When that doesn't work, you think about the time you helped Jason on a mission in the sewers and couldn't get the smell out of your suit for a week.

Yeah, that'll do it. You shudder.

"Can't believe you just broke in," he mumbles. "Raised in a fuckin' barn, swear to God."

"Okay, I'm sorry. I'm truly, honestly sorry, Jaybee. From the bottom of my heart. Can I look now?"

"If you dare."

"Are you decent?" you ask.

"Too easy of a joke," he says. "Yeah, the jewels are covered."

You turn slowly. Jason's got red (ha) boxers on, so you turn all the way.

Huh. Well.

You've never really thought much about what Jason's got going on underneath his armor. Certainly, you've assumed that he's got a good physique and a lot of stamina, considering what he does. You've always assumed that. But Jason's Jason. Your best friend, Jason. Your best friend, Jason, who came back really tall, yeah, and with a deep voice and a super pretty face...

Well, anyway. He's Jason. That's all.

But now? Now you get to look in depth, and... whoa.

Jason's broad, stocky, heavily muscled with a soft layer of fat on top. His arms are huge, hands proportionally big. His pecs are full with pink nipples the same shade as his lips. That's a fact you're never forgetting. Your belly flutters.

Okay, what the fuck! No. This is peak creepy behavior, leering at your best friend like this, even if he does have shoulders you could sink your teeth into and thighs you'd happily get crushed between. No! Bad.

...You look some more. He's covered in scars. This is the first time you've seen his autopsy scar in person. It's white, noticeable but healed, like most of his scars. There's a dusting of dark hair from his chest to his belly button. It thickens as it dips beneath his—

Mm, nope. Not thinking about that again.

"Hello-o."

Your eyes dart back to his face.

"Are you listening to me?" he asks, forehead crinkled.

"What? Yes. Sorry. Yes." Your cheeks burn.

Something crosses Jason's face, too quick for you to read. But then his expression stones over. He glances at the dresser across from the bed.

"If you gimme a sec, I'll put a shirt on so y'won't have to look at all this," he says, gesturing roughly to his body.

You blink, lost in Jasonland. "Huh?"

"I know the scars are pretty gnarly. Lemme find a shirt."

Jason goes to the dresser and digs through the top drawer. His wide back is strung tight with tension, you can tell. You hurry to him, blocking the drawer with your arm. Jason looks at you, brows rising.

"Can I help you?" he asks.

"Um."

Words. You remember words, don't you?

"You..."

You haven't been physically close to Jason in a long time. He smells like soap and detergent and is all-encompassing. Your brain feels like slush. Don't stare at his pecs.

"I didn't—I'm not grossed out by your scars, Jason," you finally manage to say.

Jason raises an eyebrow. "Sure. You're just grossed out by everything else about me." He sighs wearily, like he's practiced this speech every night in the mirror. "Look, it's fine. I know I'm really—"

"No, it's not fine! I can't bear having you think I'm repulsed by your body, Jason. That's just not true," you say.

"Well, you were starin' pretty hard, so—"

"But it wasn't—I wasn't staring in disgust, I was—I..."

Jason crosses his arms. His pecs are pushed up as he does so. His stomach looks so soft. But you know he's strong. Way stronger than you. Strong enough to wield his strength against you, if you wanted him to. Strong enough to be gentle with you, too.

You wonder if he's still ticklish.

"You're doin' it again!" Jason says, and this time he really does look hurt. Fuck. Fuck! You're a shitty best friend.

"No!" You lock eyes with him. "No, no! I mean, yes, I was looking at you. But I wasn't looking in a bad, judgy way. I was, uh, taking in your physique. Because you have a... a very nice body. I've never seen you without clothes so I was looking at you. Sorry."

Yeah, you'll just go die in a hole after this.

Jason squints at you for a long moment. You start to shift in place. Sweat beads on your forehead. You lick your lips, hoping Jason can hear your honesty.

"Are you messin' with me?"

"Huh?" You shake your head. "No, why would I—"

"You're really telling me that you find this," Jason gestures to his body, "Good looking?"

This is worse than any physical torture. You'd prefer Batman beating you up on a roof to being here.

You rub your temple, cheeks aflame. "Oh my God. Yes, Jason, you're a good looking guy. Can we move on?"

"No, 'cause I think you're lyin', and I don't like it. You're always honest with me."

"I am being honest," you say, suddenly more annoyed than anything. Because what the fuck? "Are you kidding me? There's a whole forum dedicated to the Red Hood and how much people want you to step on them. And that's without seeing your face! I have eyes, Jason, of course I find you attractive."

And that should be the end of it. Jason's already slack-jawed like a dead fish. But no, you keep going.

"You make me nervous and I thought I had a lid on it because we knew each other as kids but it's becoming clear that I very much don't, and that probably has to do with the fact that you're the only guy I've been close to, and I never got over you. And now I'm gonna go drown myself in the Hudson. Good night."

You go to slip out the window. Maybe it'll shut on your head and knock you out. That would be a divine gift.

It doesn't, though. The universe isn't so kind. Instead, Jason catches your arm and keeps you rooted to your spot. His hand is cold. You wonder if the rest of him is warm.

"Wait, wait. Just hang on."

You groan. "Dude, I'm fucking mortified over the last five minutes. Please let me keep some of my dignity," you say without looking at him.

"Now when have I ever done that?" You can hear the smile in his voice.

And suddenly, the miserable reality of never being more than friends with Jason Todd comes crashing down. It's too late. You've always been too late.

You sag in his grip.

"We can just forget this ever happened," you say quietly. "Chalk it up to idiocy."

"Mm, yeah, we could. 'Cept I don't think you're an idiot. And I want you to hear what I have t'say first. Will ya look at me?"

Mopily, you look at him. His hand drops.

"I—"

"You've never slept naked," you say before he can get a word out. "That's new. Otherwise, I would've known, and then I would've used the door."

Jason rolls his eyes. "Can I speak?"

You cross your arms. "Yeah, okay."

"First of all, I don't think it's necessary for me to disclose that I sleep in the nude." You open your mouth to argue. "But I know it was a mistake. I'm not mad about that. Okay?"

You nod. "Okay."

"I won't lie and say I'm not surprised at your... reaction. I don't really... I've never... I'm not Dick or Bruce, y'know? I wasn't told my whole life what a handsome boy I am. And dying and returning didn't really help with that stuff either."

"I think you're handsome, Jason," you say quietly. "Honest."

He coughs and looks away, a tiny blush on his cheeks. "Yeah, uh, think you've made that pretty clear. For the record, I think you're really beautiful. Always thought so."

Your eyes widen. "Really?"

"Well, yeah. I mean... yeah."

"You're just saying that 'cause I saw your vein cane," you say, grinning.

"Don't call it that."

"How about—"

"No."

You're both quiet.

"How 'bout pork swor—"

"No!"

You smile, eyes squinty. Jason glares.

"Don't nickname my thing," he says.

You nod solemnly. "You're right. It's your thing. You should choose its name."

He shakes his head. "Sucha weirdo."

"Hey, I've never been with a guy. I don't know the rules of thing-naming."

Jason tilts his head. "Never?"

"Never."

"Why?"

You shrug. "Never found anyone I liked enough, I guess. I've pretty much had my heart set on you, Jason."

His face softens. "Oh."

"Yeah."

"Well, uh, me too," he says. "You're it for me, honey. I just never... I mean, really, I never thought it would actually happen with you. Not then, not now."

"Huh. You really should've flashed me earlier. We could've sped things up exponentially."

"Yeah, why didn't I think of that," Jason says dryly.

"Dunno! We all know you're more than a pretty face."

His face reddens. You grin.

"Are you shy?" you ask, dancing on your toes.

"No. Shut up."

"You're shy! I make Jason Todd shy! Oh, this is wonderful. I should break into your apartment regularly."

"It's just new for me!" he says. "Lea' me alone."

You cozy up to him, confidence renewed by the mutual confession. You wrap your arms around his neck. Jason looks at you, hands slowly coming to rest on your waist. The rest of him is warm.

"Just teasing you, Jaybee," you say.

"Hmm." He slowly nudges your cheek with his nose. "Like y'always do?"

"Like I always do," you say sweetly. "But for the record, if we ever share a bed in the future, you're gonna have to keep the soldier in his tent."

Jason lets go of you, exasperated. "Oh, for—y'know what? Your visitation privileges are revoked. Get outta my apartment."

You put on the saddest face you can muster. "You're kicking me out? Into the cold?"

"It's eighty degrees."

You sigh loudly. "Okay, fine. Date tomorrow?"

"Seriously?" Jason asks, sounding genuinely surprised.

"Seriously! Why wouldn't I be serious?"

"You really wanna date me?"

"Never been more sure of anything in my life."

Jason's relief is palpable and bittersweet. You'll spend the rest of your days letting him know just how spectacular he and his pectorals are.

"Okay," he says, shy again. You don't tease him this time.

"Great!" You close the distance between you and peck him on the cheek. His blinks in surprise.

"I'll give you a proper kiss on our date," you say, winking. "Bye, Jasey-Daisy."

"Bye, honey. Don't break into anyone else's apartment on your way home."

"Never," you say, climbing out the window. "You're the only one for me, Toddy!"

[sepublic]

I remember hearing that Dana was inspired by True Crime, amongst other things and people IRL, when writing Belos. And it seems that contrary to the notoriety of True Crime fans, she actually understood the assignment.

Because she opted to demystify the serial killer as this dark, unusual psychology that operates outside of societal borders and rules, disturbed by some secret reason, and instead literally pull off the mask to reveal he’s just some white manchild who hates women and minorities to a violent degree, because he feels threatened by them and their ability to say No in his entitlement. There’s nothing special or unique about his motives.

He’s no exception to the status quo, he is it unmasked of the veneer of civility, he’s the lynch mob and the cop (all of whom inherit the violence of white supremacy and colonialism) and fittingly a lot of serial killers were clocked by women and PoC as dangerous, but cops —largely white men— dismissed their claims because look at this dude, he seems like an upstanding citizen! And that’s really how he got away.

And because his victims were people the system was less likely to believe because they both operated on the same biases, you see why a lot of cops who commit brutality are drawn to an institution where they’re given violent power over brown and/or queer communities who are labeled as ‘suspicious’, because they enjoy easy targets they know the system doesn’t care about, and are enraged by body cams and accountability.

It doesn’t matter if they’re intentionally bigoted, their support of an inherently bigoted institution makes them the same; Internalized biases and “I don’t see race” and all that. You see how Philip wanted to be a witch hunter —the prototypical cop who is not exclusively violent towards women but still has a clear slant— or colonial savior so bad, because his violence could be legitimized by the authority of the state.

He leans into it hardcore when he feels threatened by the presence of an outside girl who challenges the Christian narrative of Gravesfield, to the point of violence; It’s a position that validates killing anyone who doesn’t agree with him in general, hence Caleb and the Grimwalkers, but of course his and society’s biases slant towards women and PoC. And while it ultimately doesn’t matter whether he’s intentionally racist/misogynistic, it’s worth addressing that he very much does have the intention due to his blatant Conservative backdrop.

And seeing how charming Philip is and the portrayal of him as a little kid playing games in his youth, a perception Caleb might’ve still had which led to his death, I can see the direct line to families who find out their sons are school shooters and are in disbelief because he was such a nice kid! While ignoring the obvious Red Flags because white men are allowed to express these without being immediately scrutinized by the community, by having it brushed off. On some level cops don’t suspect him because he’s the same type of guy as them.

Part of that denial comes from the fact that he’s not an “unfeeling sociopath” who’s wired differently. Philip can feel empathy and guilt like anyone else, but he’s still a hateful prick and these aren’t mutually exclusive; Not when people can be perfectly selective about who they extend these feelings towards, or even do things in spite of these feelings, because other ones —anger and pride and hatred— exist and they choose to prioritize those. There’s an assumption that empathy and guilt inherently make you a good person, but they don’t; That ultimately comes from what you do about it, not how you feel.

You could even say Dana and the other writers wrote him too well, because true to life, we have a similar issue but on a micro-scale via the abstraction of fiction regarding a very dedicated fan base who loves to romanticize him and his actions, attributing his issues to some secret trauma in childhood, a young man failed by society! While also scrubbing him of his racism and misogyny and reliance on the status quo, to make him ‘apolitical’ and you can see the same not just with fans but also in society.

Because society doesn’t want to acknowledge serial killers as just the truth behind their white sons and the system that absolved and encourages them, because that would require them to admit their guilt in how they’re structured. Rather, they’ll say these men reflect some dark truth inherent to humanity, and don’t exist within a certain sociopolitical framework.

And so he was a ‘loner’ whose problems can be pathologized via mental illness, his trauma can be traced back to a specific incident in his youth he just couldn’t get over. So you see how school shooters are made into victims, how serial killers are also made apolitical and even alien to distance them from the status quo.

And then you can lean into how unusual they are by writing characters like Dexter or Hannibal Lecter, you can not just defend the system but feed into it via the commodification of their violence as entertainment and consumption, and thus fuel the white supremacy train by letting their violence towards women and minorities be praised as something fascinating and interesting and conveniently clean of bigotry. This is the dichotomy of the hypothetical, romanticized Fantasy Serial Killer, and the banal IRL Serial Killer.

Thus we have the same cycle of white men’s violence being praised and validated by the system, and white men feeling entitled to this fame as a delusional fantasy. Because you’ve never heard of a black serial killer; Because black people are violent, that’s just the way they are, right? But if white men are violent, this is sensationalized as somehow unusual and fascinating and worth dedicating countless books and shows and movies towards. Obviously.

And even going back to witch hunters, sometimes I wonder about the constant consideration of, What if witches did exist? What if they were evil? Things like The VVitch or The Conjuring series, which have some framing of the Salem Witch Trials’ IRL violence towards women as legitimate in another universe, because of Satanism’s genuine predatory threat towards women, and how evil women sacrifice theirs or others’ God-given gift of a child, and now threaten another white Christian family.

And again there’s the the demystifying of the real life witch hunter too when we have a historical reenactment declare verbatim that IRL witch hunters were motivated by economics and other banal factors, not by any genuine belief in the dangers of demons; And even in a setting where the demons were real, they were not the predatory threat IRL witch hunters made them out to be, and so their very real biases and ulterior motives still apply in cumulative insincerity.

Hence, the Titan correcting Luz by explaining Belos as someone who only cares about being the hero in his own delusion; The fascist wet dream of a hidden invader here to corrupt even young white men, an outside monster to vanquish and whose destruction justifies the state, when in reality the monster IS the state, and before he was even presented as a witch (much less the human truth), his system’s destruction was called for.

Ultimately, a lot of True Crime and similar narratives are criticized for focusing more on this apparently inevitable mystique behind the perpetrators, who warrant far more attention than their victims. So when the villain is an example of True Crime, it’s worth noting how the show is so much more focused on the ‘weirdoes’ he targets, on women and/or PoC. The lives of Luz Noceda and her friends, them getting along and their psychologies, are just so much more important, and it really isn’t about that guy, who is informed as much as he needs to be.

But again, the True Crime fans dilemma; People genuinely salty at the show for not focusing on their favorite serial killer and his troubled backstory, his tragic motives and Puritan repression. The framing of his murders and motives isolated through the lens of his violence on undeserving white men, and not on the out-group he is specifically targeting and has committed much more violence on, esp if you look at the narrative’s actual framing of his impact on our protagonists, but also other victims who are witches or demons, and even his own self-professed motives; Hence, ‘Fratricide Georg’ as a joke depoliticized of his colonial violence, a violence that is not just adjacent to but fulfilling racism.

Because he hallucinated only those white men out of guilt, but that’s his biased perspective and priorities; And so you see how this is contrasted with a refusal to empathize with people like the Collector or Luz, who are put into the same situations as his white male victims via shared cinematography, yet are just as rejected. Luz is only put into this situation as convenient to Belos’ narrative, the closest replacement to a white male human he can get, but again if this girl of color says No, he tries to murder her and even does.

Yet again, people take genuine, personal insult at the creator for finding Belos to be her least favorite character to write, while ignoring that she still found him necessary to the story she was trying to tell; She just found the framing and focus should’ve been shifted to his actual victims’ deep and meaningful lives, how they matter. So people hate that S3 cares more about Luz Noceda’s relationship with her parents of color, as well as her female mentor and demonic brother, or her queer relationship with her girlfriend, etc.

And even when they get a bone of white boy Hunter, it’s still not enough; Fans inevitably gather themselves into an almost frenzied state of personal victimization, rallying into harassment of PoC who criticize their portrayal and discussion around their colonial serial killer fave, organizing dedicated trends and months to giving their white men the focus they ‘deserved’, because this is just White fandom in general.

Look at the entitlement campaigns regarding Ben Solo or Billy Hargroves deserving better, these young white men violent to women and minorities. It’s just the same thing but on a micro-scale, at least filtered via fictional characters. But Jesus you see how internalized biases bleed into everything. You’ve never heard of a black serial killer and fandom doesn’t fight for characters of color.

[contumacious-arcadia]

Hello! I'm aware there is a lot of discontent around shipping Alastor with anyone since it's been stated that he is an asexual character and I would also like to throw my two cents out into the void pertaining to the issue. I *really* like radioapple. My lizard brain spouted "they gon' fuck" as soon as I saw "Dad Beat Dad". I find it super charming and enemies-to-lovers is naturally hella entertaining in my opinion - so I started reading radioapple fics and **they may have actually taught me something about myself. ** I'm on the older side (37), and have always just referred to myself as bisexual. I never really considered anything else because when I was younger and learning my own identity, all of the super specified language just wasn't available to me. It didn't really cross my mind to reexamine those conclusions as time passed, because I was under the impression (as many others also seem to be) that asexual meant "ABSOLUTELY ZERO SEX OR SEX-ADJACENT THINGS FOREVER, NO, NYET, NINE" and aromantic meant "ABSOLUTELY DEATHLY ALLERGIC TO ROMANTIC RELATIONSHIPS, NEVER EVER, NOPE". ...I am definitely not the only one, as this does seem to be the sticking point people argue about when shipping Al with literally anyone. After reading many, many radioapple fics written by people within the asexual and aromantic spectrums, I feel like I've gotten a better handle on the categorization and shockingly (to me, at least) it seems *I* am actually also very aromantic and moderately touch averse (though I would not consider myself asexual). Who would have thunk that fanfic would teach me a very important fact about myself? It was like I was given a key to understanding why my relationships are always so troubled and why I seem to HATE being in relationships, despite repeatedly diving back into them. I literally give each new partner a whole-ass speech about how *incredibly* uncomfortable overly romantic crap makes me feel and how if they start badgering me/guilting me about the whole 'love' concept incessantly, I will likely freak out and end the relationship... and EVERY TIME they pull that crap and then try to guilt me by claiming that they "didn't think I was serious". If I had the language to explain I was aromantic and touch averse (when not specifically gettin' down), I think I could have avoided a lot of damage. Maybe. Anyway, I just wanted to state that shipping an ace or aro/ace character and writing fanfic that actually explains their thought process and feelings can be a SUPER beneficial thing. I don't know why it wasn't obvious to me that nothing is ever 100% black and white, but again, I don't seem to be the only person who believed that. I would gently urge some of the fans who are hardcore (and vocally) *against* shipping Al with anyone to read some of the fics and maybe it can help them adjust their perspective a bit too - just like it helped me. BUT - this *IS* the internet, so if you just want to shout angrily into the void, you can do that too! Two cents complete.

[princessbrunette]

Rafe with a reader who's known around as being a tease, all talk. I feel like he wouldn't like it very much

s1 rafe again bc for some reason im obsessed w him lately

⠄･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄

he’s heard about you. a tease, as they call it — always flirting, batting your eyelashes up at every guy and then never putting out. no one was quite sure what kind of sick game you were playing, attracting the eyes of many at every kook gathering or country club outing but rafe was intrigued. not enough to do anything about it, but enough to watch from a far and ponder.

but you wanted rafe, and all his attention — which is why you’re sat right up next to him on a couch at some stuffy mansion party, watching him cut coke for one of his friends. youre practically pressed to his side, and he’s barely giving you the time of day, only making you want him more.

the only reason you turned down all those guys was because you only wanted him. even flirty girls like yourself could gain hardcore crushes, and now he was right by your side it felt like it was going nowhere.

“what you want, huh? you after somethin’ free? coke?” he glances at you, simultaneously waving to one of his friends across the room. you pout, not even able to hold his focus. luckily for you, your tipsiness made you more bold. bold and horny.

“m’interested in you.” you thumb at the sleeve of his polo, sulky and childishly begging for his attention. he laughs, eyes creasing at the side and at first you don’t even know if it was directed at you, until he turns his head— dropping the expression to something faux-serious, wide eyes and parted lips.

“oh yeah? me and the 50 other poor suckers you’re stringin’ along?” he teases and you shake your head, watching as his pal lifts his head from snorting the white lines, sliding a wad of cash across the table through the residue. rafe picks it up, starting to count it.

“you know i never actually do anything with those guys…” you defend.

“so i heard.” he turns back to you, cash fanned between two hands. “and you’ve chosen me tonight as your next victim. y’not gonna get so lucky there, sweetheart.”

“why not?” you couldn’t believe how pathetic you sounded, and maybe you were a masochist because something about the way he was the one controlling the conversation instead of you for once felt good.

“‘cus i’m not an idiot.” he folds the cash, pulling a clip out of his pocket and clipping the wad— shoving it deep into his pocket as he sends a parting smile to the customer. “what do you actually— i mean actually want from me?”

you look up at him beneath your lashes, a doll like appearance to your demure pout. damn, he thinks— you’re good at this.

“i’m just attracted to you rafe. wanted to talk to you. if you’re not interested just tell me. no need to embarrass me.”

he stares at you for a moment, and he kind of feels himself feel a little nagging guilt at his chest which he doesn’t appreciate. he sighs, shifting his body a little more towards you and pinches your jaw, making you look at him. it’s not a super rough gesture, but you blink in surprise anyway and the feeling goes straight to your pussy.

“and what’s gonna happen if we go upstairs to talk some more, hm?” he challenges making you swallow hard, never having felt needier for someone you’ve only had around seven fleeting conversations with in your life.

“w—we can get to know eachother and then maybe… can get to know other parts of you…” you admit, somehow shyly despite being such a floozy with other men. it fills him with pride at the fact he’s brought that side out of you, that is if that side is real of course.

he looks down at his crotch and back up at you suggestively. such a boy, you shouldn’t like it this much. “n’what about when i pull it out, huh? y’gonna run away?” he speaks lower, quieter, he’s talking about his dick to you in the middle of this party and you’re stupidly wet.

your lips part, eyes glancing at his mouth like you can’t contain yourself and your throat even trembles with the quietest mewl, relishing in the way his fingers clutch your jaw. “g’nna spit on it. suck on it. whatever you want, rafe…” your voice is airy, desperate. he smirks and lets go.

“alright. we’ll see. i’ll find you, yeah? got some business to attend to.” he gets up, leaving you. rafe cameron was making you work for it.

⠄･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄

[ben-drowned-me]

hi! could you write some general hc for Jeff and Toby? Also could you talk about more about your canon plsss?

✧.* gen jeff and toby headcanons

-aaa of course !! i love jeff and toby so much

for my canon, I like to think that i just kind of make the characters more real. For most of their original canon stories, or for the fanon versions of them, their characters are made to be just killing machines with a little bit of angst and the story of whatever caused it. I base them off my favourite versions of their stories (or combine), but i give them flaws and little quirks that make them into an actual character rather than a person. I also try to write in how they are all traumatized people because thats usually brushed off. I wouldn't mind going into more detail if you'd like :3

jeff the killer

 incredibly close with liu before everything went down, now he just feels guilty being around him

hardcore metal and punk fan. Screeching Weasel, Benighted, To The Grave. stuff like that

Has night terrors. Rooms with Ben because he's the only one who can calm him down when he awakes. 

Soft spot for animals (usually prefers cats but doesn't say anything to Smile)

Grew up in a very strict catholic family

Is the self-proclaimed "white boy" of the mansion but is hispanic

Pushes his emotions away until something really triggers him

When he finally gets triggered, it does not end well

Full breakdowns. Rage, Depression. He goes through all of it in the span of like 2 days. 

Everyone gives him space except Ben

No mirrors in his room. Avoids ones outside

phantom pain from the burns 

he looks absolutely atrocious. Probably the worst of all the creeps but to be fair he went through severe body trauma

For a grown man, he's on the skinner side 

still really fucking strong though

Can't sleep without noise. One of the reasons he rooms with Ben so much bc hes loud

Messy room. Does not clean, does not know where anything is

only really uses the top of his face to show emotion because he's scared of re-opening his mouth scars

He would spend hundreds of dollars at bath and body works but all the scents he picks up would clash so badly

the kind of guy to say no when someone asks for something but then get 3 of it

listens to british rap unironically

toby rogers

mentioned before, but hates waffles. Any classic breakfast food he dislikes but those are the worst

a collector. His room is filled with small little trinkets he's picked up. Has a rock or button collection

Probably the worst of the creeps emotionally

Was raised in a pretty toxic environment.. Never learned how to manage his emotions. Has too many of them and they change too often so he kind of just. explodes

Usually extreme rage or goes nonverbal

is autistic idc

very ! bad ! ptsd

nervous around male authoritative figures

initially refused to eat at the dinner table since it was a requirement of his fathers, but is getting better at it

soft spot for kids, will let sally dress him up and do his makeup

religious guilt though he was never religious

finds EJ to be very good company, he enjoys the atmosphere

speaking of EJ, he taught Toby a lot of medical care since he's not always available

sleeps on the floor pretty often

kind of an asshole sometimes

master of sarcasm tbh

[mayhemscorner]

Stupid rules

Swiss x f!reader

Summary: Y/N had rules put in place to avoid getting hurt. But were the rules too much? A FLUFFY Swiss one shot. Expect more Ghost fics upcoming, if there’s anyone you want to see… let me know! (sorry I've been gone for a while)

Warnings: hardcore fluff, slightly OOC because I crave sappy fics. 

It was a sunny day. Almost too sunny as I watch the ghouls strut down the path of the abbey, white flowers dancing lazily against the oddly warm breeze, signaling their return home. His eyes meet mine, and I can’t help but break the gaze, trying to hurry off as if I was never there. Swiss however abruptly changes his path, closing in on my location by the greenhouse, arms encircling my waist and sweeping me off my feet to twirl me around like an overdue award.

“Darling of mine!” Swiss exhales excitedly while gently returning my feet to the earth. 

His lips smashed against my cheeks in a fiery passion, attacking my face in peppered kisses. his toothy smile etched its way against my forehead as the pit of guilt in my stomach drops and I push myself away. My outstretched arms hold us what felt like worlds apart as his curious eyes flicker around in confusion, smile quickly fading. 

“Swiss-“ I try to remind him before he sets a finger against my lip,” no, no. Don’t remind me, I remember, Y/N.”

His face mimics that of someone witnessing a puppy being kicked before his eyes find interest in the cobblestone beneath us,” no attachment, I know the rule. But-“

“Yes I know, you’re just affectionate with everyone. But Swiss, I’m not.” I sigh, knowing he only does it in good nature. The ghouls were all affectionate in their own ways, Cumulus adores hugs and Mountain protectively wraps around anyone smaller than him while walking. Even Dew would sling an arm around someone or drape a limb over you while sitting. But Swiss was different, it was a more intimate feeling that I didn’t know how to handle. It felt to me as if we were betrothed or courting, when to him, it was only another day. 

The pang in my chest signals that I’ve already broke my cardinal rule of attachment. Because at the abbey, the line is muddled between love and friendship, you never know when a ghoul is actually trying to advance a relationship or if you’re just a really good friend. With my own rule set in place, I had been touch starved and lonely, close to that of a nun. Maybe I’m starting to realize the effects on him too, but breaking the rule would only lead to my own one sided heart break. 

I can only watch as he shuffles his feet awkwardly, as if his body was conjuring the flashy smile back to his face before nodding. He awkwardly puts a hand on my shoulder and pats it,” well it’s nice to see you nonetheless.”

“Yeah, you too… I have to uh- go pack my bags.” I cough back, patting the hand that remained stagnant against my shoulder and turning away as a farewell. 

“Right, right. The tour coming up. Busy little thing you are.” He chuckles out, almost a sense of bitterness in the air. As he raises his hand to punch my chest lightly. I was bitter at myself, so I understood the tone. I couldn’t help but wince, sparing a glance back to him with a half cocked smile,” at least I’ll have you there with me.”

It was stupid, so stupid.

 I find myself banging my head against the wall of my room, empty suitcases mocking me,” at least I’ll have you there with me. Good way to not show affection, you idiot. Stupid, stupid, stupid.”

A series of knocks against the door matches the rhythm of my head pounding motion,” doors unlocked.”

“Are you almost packed little one- eh …what are you doing?” Copia rings out, quickly buffering the space between my head and the wall with a gloved hand in confusion.

“Knocking some sense in to myself. You should try it sometime.” I mumble out, tilting my head in his direction. I notice the slight grimace at the almost definite red mark against my head before he clears his throat,” I do believe that term is meant to be taken metaphorically, no? What is on that mind of yours?”

“A headache.” I groan in reply, unceremoniously slamming my head on to the wall for a final time and letting it rest in defeat. 

“Other than that.” He tuts back, giving my back an encouraging slap. I shoot a less than eager glare towards his prodding and grimace,” I’m just worried about being on the road. I’m already a long ways from home and I’m quite honestly rethinking my whole life. I should still be home.”

Copia steps away, creating space as he sits crookedly against the armchair at the foot of my bed,” take a seat. I need to process what you just said.” 

I can only give the wall a look of confusion before trudging over to sit beside him,” what is there to process?”

He only turns to me, face blank before rolling his eyes,” you remind me of a much… much, younger me sometimes dear Y/N. Home is not a place. Physically yes, mentally… well, it’s whatyou want it to be. If you miss home then by all means go home… but what is home to you?” 

My mind acts on its own, imagining a flickering smile. No, think of the golden and fiery red trees, the foggy lake… anything but that. The way his arms fling around me without hesitation- no! Abandoned buildings off the railroad tracks you used to walk at night, not him! 

“Home is- it’s where… he- I! It’s where I grew up.” I spew the alphabetical garbage from my mouth, contemplating on returning to my post at the wall. 

Copia whistles, tapping his fingers against his knees,” wow, how convincing… well that was a waste of time. I’ll let you pack.”

He gets up slowly, almost waiting for me to interject his leave. After a few slow steps he turns back, eyes hooded in annoyance and defeat before turning back around. My hands fidget against my lap, contemplating if he already knows my true problem and is just waiting for me to admit it. He beckons me with a furl of his hands, quickly giving up, heaving a sigh and waving me off.

“Wait!” I huff out, not even fully sure what to say as he turns back to me,” c-can home be a person? I mean not like romantically or anything, because that would be crazy and-“

“Break your pitiful, half assed ‘no affection’ rule because you deny joyful things in life? Absolutely!” He chuckles deviously, purposefully leaving the door cracked open as he takes his leave. 

“It’s not half assed by the way!” I shout down the hall, receiving a wave off in reply,” what fun is life if you refuse to get frisky and just enjoy it? Rules are meant to be broken!”

I bite against my nails in habit, fixating on his words in contemplation. He had a point, honestly. So what if my heart was broken? So what if everything came crashing down around me? I would either wake the next day, or I wouldn’t. It didn’t change the fact that the world kept moving. The only thing that hadn’t moved was my mind… it was me. 

“Are you just going to stand in the hall like a lost child or are you gong to find rules to break, you little hellraiser? Move, do something!” Copia calls out from down the hallway, shaking his head in disbelief. My steps are slow at first, but they fall in to a steady and brisk pace as I follow his direction, he calls out in encouragement,” oh finally! Run along now, go go.”

I can hear him grumbling as I jog past him, not sure as what direction to go, but find myself returning to the greenhouse. The sun was setting, a dark red hue encasing the surroundings and the last light of sun reflecting off the glass and causing everything to shimmer. Sisters bustle around, prepping for night to come and finishing their tasks for the day. It was serene, a breath of fresh air I needed. The flowers from earlier now sit still, taking on a new orange tint from the sun. I couldn’t help but gently brush my fingertips across the stretching row, feeling as the freshly collecting dew collides with my fingertips. 

“Entrancing isn’t it?” A voice beckons, joining my motions a few flowers down. 

“…yeah. I haven’t had the chance to come out here at night. Ive been too busy creating rules for myself that should’ve been broken long ago.” I mumble back, seeing Swiss tilt his head in curiosity and tilting a flower forward to admire it. He lets out a silent laugh and turns his head towards me, shoulders relaxing,” are you finally allowing yourself to roam the halls at night with Cumulus again?”

“Oh no, that’s not a rule I personally put in place. We got a little tipsy and wandered in to the wrong room. We’ll just say Sister Imperator was less than enthused.” I chuckle back, allowing myself to let my fingers come closer to his. I can see his hand jerk in anticipation, but he quickly recovers, setting them back gently in to place, hooked around a flower. I find myself lost in his trance like motions, making everything seem effortless and yet, so gentle the petals barely flutter.

“Not ready yet?” He asks, gazing down at the flower. I look to him, being brought back to reality and letting out a small hum in confusion, not quite understanding his question.

Im not sure if it’s the dew, or my palms becoming sweaty in anticipation, but my trembling hands refuse to move as I wait for him to speak again.

“The flower. Is it not ready to pick yet?” He questions, meeting my eyes. Heat crawls from my neck to my face as I decide what to do next. My hands robotically move to hover above his, pointing at the petals,” no, it’s ready. It’s actually over due. See the little leaves holding the bud? Its called a sepal, its like protection when the flower hasn’t budded yet. They’re all the way down, meaning it’s fully bloomed… no longer needing protection.”

“Would it hurt it if I picked it… now that it’s too late?” Swiss exhales breathily. 

I shake my head,” it’s never too late. They need picked or cut eventually.” 

My hands wrap around the tops of his, guiding them to show him the correct spot to cut and the thorns to avoid. Just like my rules, navigating around them was tricky. I realize how stupid I had been when it took a simple garden rose to make me realize the idiocy behind it. Love shouldn’t be intricate, it should be wild and passionate… given for monumental moments and just because. Just for the hell of it. 

“Let me grab some shears before anyone notices, it’ll be our little secret.” He whispers as if there were still others bustling around us, when in reality we were now all alone. And it’s not like one single flower would cause the whole abbey to crash down in panic. Swiss quickly returns from the pitch black darkness of the greenhouse, boasting a pair of shears and rushing back in excitement. His hands outstretch, offering me the blades,” show me.”

“No, do it with me.” I offer, quickly placing them in the spot to cut, and motioning Swiss forward. His hands easily engulf mine and he snips the stem, quickly snatching the rose before it drops to the ground. 

By now, the roses have sunk from a peachy orange, to a shimmering purple twilight hue, mimicking the world around us. The air was now crisp and fresh, much like the flower that was being extended towards me,” a flower for a flower.”

I take it slowly with a smile, twisting it in my fingers before my other hand reaches upwards to link around his neck and pull him down. 

A kiss against his right cheek, then his left, then his forehead. I kiss the tip of his nose before Swiss even dares to move. But his hand quickly snakes around my waist, almost hovering in question before fully bringing me in to his body and twisting me towards the ground in a dip. I gasp at the sudden movement, eyes flying open in shock to see his moonlit illuminated face with that devious smile,” it was never about the flower, was it?”

“No.” I breathe back, steadying myself with my other hand against his chest, rose and all. It was the ending of a long winded dance. Instead of my feet aching, it was my heart in desperation. But Swiss took all the time in the world, i could swear he was searching for lost treasure or even approval in my eyes. His cheeks become tinged as his head slowly comes towards mine, eyes closing and his free hand cupped against my cheek. 

Cheek kisses after a long day meant nothing, forehead kisses as a greeting couldn’t even compare to the sensation of his lips against mine. It was as if they were etched by a world renowned sculptor eager to become the best. I only pull away to breathe, since all the wind from my lungs had been knocked out the moment we connected. 

“So is that how you say goodnight?” I jokingly bite towards him, trying to steady myself and stand upright. Swiss pulls me straight and laughs, shaking his head in thought,” no. it was breaking a rule I’ve wanted to break for a very long time.”

“I was told earlier that rules were meant to be broken.” I reply, thinking back to my earlier conversation with Copia, feeling how Swiss lets his hands drone aimlessly down my sides and across my back.

“If it was Copia, I should warn you he has a betting pool going with the other ghouls on all your rules and when you would break them. And he bet last month you would break the ‘no affection rule’ before tour.” Swiss winces out, quickly scanning our surroundings to see if anyone was around to witness. I raise an eyebrow,” a betting pool? And do you happen to partake in this?”

He shrinks in embarrassment,” I’m truly heartbroken you would believe I’d be one to partake in gambling!”

“…you lost didn’t you?” I grumble out, landing a punch cheekily against his arm. Swiss scoffs,” I’ll have you know, I bet that you would never break. I was starting to think you didn’t like me... and now I’m down two hundred bucks.”

“It’s not my fault I thought you were just being friendly.” I scoff right back. He drops his head once again,” who kisses friends? I may be a ghoul, but I figured I was making myself clear.”

“I’ve literally watched you full on mouth kiss Dew before.” I mutter mundanely, receiving a surprised expression in reply,” was I drunk?”

“Completely sober, hot shot.” I answer back, knowing damn well it was a lie.

“I feel like I would’ve remembered this.” Swiss ponders, his thinking face coming to the surface as he still refuses to let me go. I wait in silence as I watch him suffer before finally breaking,” okay it was a lie. But the fact you had to think about it concerns me.”

I find myself being dipped once again, this time a different… more sultry aura is present,” the fact that you can keep me guessing really drives me crazy. Could it be possible a ghoul can fall so madly in love with a creature such as a fallen angel?”

Fallen angels, the true tricksters and deceivers of god.

 Ones who tempt others to sin as they do so themselves. 

I was never righteous enough to be considered an angel to begin with.

 But in this story, if it were to be one, a fallen angel had fallen madly in love with a creature from hell. 

After all, anything from hell was much more beautiful than anything from heaven to deceive humans.

And I am the one to fall in to the damnation of lust. The greatest sin to exist, as it was the easiest to give in to with a man like him holding me daintily from crashing to the ground and through the pits of hell.

Lust is the perfect description of how our souls intertwine in this moment, the ecstasy of finally giving in. 

“No fallen angel has ever came from the depths of hell, I may be a succubus if anything.” I manage to reply, wishing I could think of something as smart as him.

“You’re mine, is what you are.” Swiss breathes heavily, arching my back so my head dips closer to the ground, sealing his words in to a promise with a kiss against the quickly beating vein in my neck.

Just as quickly, his lips leave and my head clouds in what could be oxygen deprivation or a desire for more. He twirls me around, mocking a waltz before finally coming to a halt and standing in front of me with my hand not holding the rose in both of his.

He bends down, placing one last kiss against my knuckles and snapping his head up with that snarky grin,” how about we continue this dance tomorrow, Y/N?”

My words stick hotly in my throat, matching the rest of my quickly heating body,” I wouldn’t dare miss it. We have a lot of missed dances to make up for.”

Swiss pats my hand gently, entwining our fingers together to lead me to the door. 

As the door pushes open, we’re met with a loud crash of a plate hitting marble in shock and a shit eating grin below a pair of mismatched eyes,” I do believe you owe me two hundred dollars, my friend.”

[narukaminigga]

AYE NIGGA(S) LISTEN UP

back in days of old, rap and hip hop was seen as a foolish endeavor; a moronic art form made by black people. whites did not gaf about it. thankfully while that’s changed… tumblr one of the only social medias i use to keep in contact with the outside world. i’ve seen the dumbest, stupidest posts because tumblr is a white hell. there are basically next to no black bloggers. they’re either dead or they abandoned the site or they were banned during that whole russian bot shit and whatever remains of black tumblr is a decrepit grave that i wish i experienced—but thanks to the hostilities of the white userbase and the staff’s oppressive nature towards blacks first and foremost, most of us are gone. i have been on this site for approximately a year or two and i have only accrued a few black people on this site. every other thing i see is traditionally antiblackness laced in progressive language, clear unbridled ignorance of black phrases, substitutions of “nigga” for the euphemism “f slur” and especially because of kendrick lamar’s beef with drake extending across the entire internet and worldwide; tumblr the “hating” website gets ahold of it. for the first time, people experience the lyricisms of kendrick and the banality of drake on full display…

and then instead, tumblr users (predominantly white) complain about the innate violence of rap, comparing fucking kendrick to LEMON DEMON (nigga who listens to LEMON DEMON????), saying some stupid shit about how rap boring as fuck, etc. etc., and it’s exhausting its so exhausting because so many people on this site refuse to acknowledge rap as a real music form and instead gas up their metal bands basically ran by neo nazi whiteboys and still are terrified of blackness. and even when they dip their toes into the art, they back away. i know everyone rn is flaming each other over this but this website is notorious for it’s systemic bigotry against blacks. we are not property and vehicles for ideological rhetoric. we are not hapless. we aren’t slaves. we are people. listen to our music nigga. you don’t like it? move on. don’t say nothing. don’t go on posts like some people have been doing and going: “oooohhhh rap lame as fuck!”. learn culture bro. and i dont want nobody to feel any white guilt but so many of you on tumblr are just so fucking bigoted for no reason towards black people (even those hardcore marxists on here). i just dont wanna see another post about a white person tweaking out over rap. go listen to black artists and support black people. support black men. support black women. support black transmascs and black transfems. support black intersex people. support all black queers. support ALL black people.

[stans-kissing]

last night i went insane thinking about putting dipford into identity v. this is kinda just dipford as a doctor/patient au. so here are my takes on dipford as emily dyer/emma woods and ada/emil from identity v. these are copy and pasted from discord and i wrote these in a frenzy ok enjoy

if u play idv i will kiss u on the lips

emma would be dipper and emily would be ford. im chosing to ignore everything that comes before emma going to the asylum because idk how to make it fit with them. also i guess mabel doesnt exist bc idk how to fit her in. ANYWAYS dipper as a little what idk 12? idk how old she was gets admitted to white sand street asylum with the rest of the orphanage kids and ends up in dr ford's care. he didn't realize they were related until he actually met the kid and then he put two and two togethet that same last name and he looks So much like ford as a child so he kinda gives dipper special treatment during his stay. plot twist. he gets electroshock therapy. (this technically takes place in the 1800s ok.) so yknow dippers kinda traumatized anyways whatever that happens ford ends up leaving the asylum to start his own clinic, feeling horrible that he has to leave dipper there, but he goes anyways. ok time skip yadda yadda he kills dippers momm yadda ydaaaa. ok here is where i kinda split off from canon bc i dont wanna include the manor and stuff. fords biggest regret is not being able to 'save' dipper (for context, emma is canonly bat fuck crazy. she kills a man by suffocating him in a suitcase and then sutffing him iin a scarecrow and setting him on fire when she grows up) after fuck9ng up serverly in his own clinic (killing a dippers mom on accident during an illegal abortion and leaving her body to bleed out and then stuffing her in garbage bags and letting the koyotes behinf his clinic eat her. cool right.) ok after fucking up hardcore style he decides to devote himself to finding dipper and fixing his past mistakes, he becomes all he thinks about obsessively, he feels endless amounts of guilt for not being able to fix him while he was still in the aslyum, so he changes his name and sets out for dipper. when they eventually meet again dipper becomes ULTRA HARDCORE OBSESSED WITH HIM. keep in mind hes fucking insane ok. ford becomes his object of worship, so much so that it creeps ford out a little bit. ford is his angel that has come to save him, dipper's devoting all of himself to ford and he trusts fully that ford is his savior and will grant him a key to nirvana. when dipper eventually kills the guy in the suitcase n stuff he does it because he thinks ford would be proud of him. hes fucing obsessed with the guy. i need you to know its not mutual obsession. ford does this out of guilt for the harm he inflicted on dipper's mind when he was still a child, he needs to fix dipper so he himself has a chance at salvation, he has no romantic feelings for dipper if anything they're fatherly, but dipper. another story. absolutely in love with the guys

and here’s my adamil take

okay. dipford adamil lock in. this takes more of a darker twist on the original story bc. yknow. uhhmm incest and pedophilia??so. i think adas actions in canon come from a good place and she genuinley loves emil, but for ford?Yeah sorry no. some context, ada is a psychologist at white sand street aslyum and emil is her patient. ok so similar startup to the emiemma one, yadda yadda ford realizes theyre related but this time instead of just wanting to care for dipper, he bcomes obsessed. unlike emma, emil has extreme psychological damage, he is insanely conflicted 24/7 and undergoes sooo many terribly painful procedures that make him worse. so dipper is fucked basically. he's like an abused dog, flinching at unpredicted touches and biting the hands that feed him one moment and then becoming docile and braindead the next minute. he's being absolutely abused at this asylum and especiallly because this takes place 1800s you can image the kind of treatment he's getting. ANYWAYS. ford is his doctor, his psychologist, and he sees the absolute torture dipper is being put through. he becomes obsessd with trying to heal him, to fix his broken brain, just obsessed with dipper in general honestly, so he steals him. he throws him in his car in the middle of the night and drives him as far away from the aslyum as they can get. he begins his own treatment on dipper, testinf to see what works on his broken little mind anf what doesnt, he ends up using a looot of hypno therapy, and for a while that was working, dipper was getting better, honestly he was just constantly dissassociatioing so tbh it really wasnt but whwtaver it was working, dipper wasnt in pain from his own mind (prime time for ford to take advantage of him!) but then they hypnotism stopped having an effect on him, it was doing more harm than good, he wasnt getting any sleep for he was tormented byhis own memories and he woke up crying multiple times a night. dipper knew ford was trying to save him, that even if his methods put dipper in pain it was from a good place (no it wasnt) basically hardcore grooming ok. dipper thinks ford is his savior and the only good thing he has in this world, he clings onto him like a lost child (because thats what he is dipper you are 12 years old) he trusts for entirely and doesnt question a single thing he does, but dipper is.. more like property to ford. something to be studied, a challenge of something to fix. in canon ada and emil get married but idk if that would work. anyways. when ford's treatments stop having any progress he ends up giving dipper a Hardcore lobotomy and he becomes newphewboywife hardcore style.

anyways i was also thinking about billford/stan as richard and his sister. So more to come probably.

[stoneyweezin]

when i think of a stereotypical stoner i think of pauly shore in encino man. like saying “don’t tax my gig so hardcore cruster” is my favorite thing in the world so… i present to you stoner!reader being adopted into the party (before argyle of course) and more than likely pissing off all the adults.

-

𝘋𝘖𝘕𝘛 𝘉𝘌 𝘚𝘜𝘊𝘏 𝘈 𝘚𝘘𝘜𝘈𝘙𝘌

not proofread

mentions of drug usage. reader is of age.

⋆⁺₊⋆☽⋆ ⋆☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆☽⋆ ⋆☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆☽⋆ ⋆☾⋆⁺₊⋆

first person to catch on to your antics was eddie.

he saw how you were the most functioning high person he’s ever seen.

specifically because his bud would have him pretty chilled out.

it was a dead giveaway after you all had basically fought in an alternate dimension and all you could say was

“these vibes are so grody.”

your tongue sticking out as you fake gagged

on the top side, they had entered the upside down through your closet, surprisingly. billy and steve standing watch, while simultaneously hating each other.

the room smelled like your favorite scent and weed.

steve knowing the smell all to well while it took billy a minute to catch on.

not really liking you or the party but mainly was in it to protect max and also himself from getting possessed again

he mainly didn’t like you because while he was in recovery you told him he looked like “sunshine in a bar”

whatever the hell that meant

but he took it wrong and from that point resented you and your stupid curly hair

speaking of your curly hair… you’d hide joints in it

eddie was jealous he hadn’t thought of it first

mainly picking into your fro hoping you had a spare, which resulted in you two slapping at each others hands like cats in an alleyway

joyce had pulled her humorous moments from you

enjoying how you panicked not so much compared to the rest of the group when things were getting hectic

hopper was sick and tired of you being an absolute ditz at times

you’d look at him with so much confusion when he’d speak, he felt his inner cop wanting out

“ hey hopper, my pal, i get you’re a narc but this is life or death here… i prefer going out with a lil kick in my system yeah?”

he couldn’t stand you and your teenage madness

el had her times where you made her laugh even though she was fighting for her life and others

“hear me out primo, you got some abilities nobody else has. now does that make us useful? not at all but we’ve got heart. we fight, you fight, it’s fair game.”

for some reason pep talks from a person buzzed out their mind was a lot more genuine

it was even once with billy, the brawn, didn’t want anyone to see him panicking about going into the creel house

feeling slight guilt about max being the target after all her trauma…

hence him almost dying

“you freaking out aren’t you?”

“fuck off.”

“hey don’t be so sharp! if it were up to me i’d have you smoked like a chimney but i get you’re struggling buddy.”

your hand would lazily lay on his shoulder as you two sat in front of the creel house

he’d lean into your hand unconsciously but ignoring the look on your face

when the earthquake happened, your house basically fell apart

steve offered you to stay in his house

his parents taking you in with crooked grins because of the fact you were clearly a stoner

it was nights after the earthquake where you’d lay on his floor and talk about everything

“i mean… el is pretty rad. she closed an entire gate to a world just because the chick was pissed creatures were fuckin with her friends.”

steve would nod as he watched you blabber

“if you had powers what would you have?”

your elbows would be at the edge of his bed, eyes gazing into his before his lips would go into a thoughtful flat line

“uh… i don’t know what’s that one power rogue has”

“that chick with the white piece in her hair? so a copycat”

“no not a copycat”

“soooo a copycat.”

you’d fall on the floor giggling at steve trying to save his reasoning

after everything you’d all often help out at the school, sometimes going out and looking for any survivors

obviously you and eddie would catch yourselves sparking up

billy wanting in but once in a blue moon, as well as steve.

[sanjisblackasswife]

OP Men P/rn Hub Search History (NSFW)

I may end up regretting posting this.

Ft. Luffy, Sanji, Zoro, Ace, Law, Sabo

Modern AU IG, Mentions of P/rn

Law

Twitter Videos: He is a more classier man, when he has time alone he is on his computer on incognito mode and goes to his burn out Twitter account to his 3 favorite Twitter accounts.

“Role-play“: I will say. Before Twitter. He enjoyed watching the GOOD acting of role play such as a masseuse starting off professional then leading to wet slippery sex to even a teacher/student. He doesn’t know what it is about it, maybe it’s the setting, maybe it’s because he knows you’re not supposed to be doing it, But the irony of it all he has yet to watch a doctor/patient.

Guilty Pleasure: Bondage. He feels a tint of guilt enjoying to watch girls weak and tied up, but dammit if it doesn’t look so attractive. He really wants to try it with you sometime, but he doesn’t know how to approach you with it.

Luffy

Recommendation Page: Mf just goes on whoever computer he borrows, opens up Chrome, type in “porn” and click whatever he sees first he doesn’t give af and sometimes he forgets his own cock is in his hand because he is actually interested in the whole video he finds. However there was one video he stumbled upon that was a gang bang and there was so much going on he really enjoyed it and to this day he tries to find it again by googling “5 guys one girl”, “5 guys cum on girl” “girl suck 5 guys at once. Help him pls. And no he doesnt clear his search history.

Somehow Luffy does always end up finding the BEST videos too though???

Guilty Pleasure: Piercings. There is no shame in his game, but the first thing he looks for in a girl is piercings. He first seen it on a girl’s clit before and he wasn’t sure why but it stirred something in him and it just turns him on to see it.

Ace

Another Twitter Lover: He loves the realism in Twitter videos, he even has his own Account with 400k followers. He doesn’t post his own videos, but he posts the ones he enjoys or is sent to through DM.

POV Titty Fucking: He loves ass but boob jobs are just his favorite thing. Big, small, saggy, perky he don’t care boobs are boobs.

Guilty Pleasure…Interracial: HE WOULD HE SO MF WOULD. He would love to see a Latina or a Black girl getting pounded by their white/Asian BF because he wish that was him fr. He loves us ok😒😒😒

Zoro

Glory Holes: He can’t explain why he always types that in first when on the website, but he kind of always wanted to go to one, but he didn’t like the idea of other guys around as he stuffs his cock in a hole to fuck a girl.

Anal: This mf is ruthless. It only started because he wanted to try anal with you, but felt like you may not like it so he had a stupid ass idea to show you a video of a girl doing it to somehow convince you, but whether or not you agree after that, now when he is alone it’s his favorite to watch.

Guilty Pleasure Milfs/BBW: Maybe it’s his breeding kink or him just loving older/bigger women, but it just turns him on embarrassingly too quick seeing a mother get fucked by a younger/smaller guy. Hence why he wants you to bare his kids immediately

Sanji (sigh)

…I mean what WOULDN’T he watch😒😒😒

This mf has the premium account, 4k videos only, yes he has a Twitter (His ONLY account), and he is a loyal member to Only Fans.

Girl x Girl: Pretty evident why. If there is any form of dick in the video it can only be from a dildo.

Girl Masturbation: …Yeah he enjoys watching it and imagining the girl is giving him a personal show AND YES. He likes it when they are loud and obnoxious.

Guilty Pleasure: Hardcore. Yeah that whole ideal of him loving women and respecting women and treating them like queens goes out the fucking door if he is watching Brutal Hard sex. Choking, slapping, name calling, etc. It’s a literal guilty pleasure in how fast he cums watching a girl drooling, crying, and begging for the man to slow down. Though he couldn’t get himself to do it to you…maybe..if you were willing?

Sabo

He is a Only Fans/Twitter lover: He has one maybe 3 particular girls he enjoys and doesn’t find any reason to expand from them.

Cam Girls: Same thing. He only has less than a handful of girls he enjoys watching and tipping girls to do some….questionable things for him.

Guilty Pleasure Cuckhold: Can’t really explain this one too much but he just likes the idea of fucking someone else’s wife/gf in front of them…yeah. He a freak but whatever.

[fearsomeandwretched]

I do fr think the white leftists who hardcore hate vegans mostly are trying to absolve their own guilt or unresolved feelings about eating meat and animal products

[runthepockets]

I agree with all of your points and white tumblr users are super annoying about rap the only thing i wanted to say is that (but i might have interpretated that wrong if you didnt mean that so sorry in advance i misread) is that like My Chemical Romance (and lots of other bands ppl say are emo) isnt emo and that most tumblr users never listened to a actual emo song, much more likely pop punk/some other alternative genre. Even the "emo aesthetic" is a watered down version of past goth/metalhead/punk fashion + the racism that was prevalent among those other subculture's styles. The actual genre itself idnt rely much on appearence until the meaning of it shifted in the 2000s to be boring(er)

Dw, I'm pretty particular about genres too.

I get you and I think you're right. There are some "emo" Metalcore bands that I really fuck with (Emmure, that first Seeyouspacecowboy album, Callous Daoboys) and for as much shit as I give Post Hardcore, I do be bumping Pierce the Veil (another contemporary "emo" act, yes, but one of the better ones by far especially because their frontman isn't white), Combatwoundedveteran, Portrayal of Guilt, and Portraits of Past when I'm feeling particularly gloomy.

I still think the subculture is rather commercial, especially compared to a lot of Metal, Hardcore, and Goth acts from around that same time, but I absolutely do agree most Tumblr users would probably explode if they listened to any emo song made before 2005, heavier than your average Fall Out Boy track.

[mywifeleftme]

364: Various Artists // Israfel

Israfel Various Artists 1997, Ape

A 1997 vinyl benefit compilation of mostly Middle American grindcore / powerviolence / emo acts, assembled in an edition of about 1000 by Bloomington-based DIY label Ape Records (active 1995 to 2002), in handmade sleeve with a recent release catalogue, a substantial zine, and a few priceless gag inserts (incl. YOUR HARDCORE SELL OUT DECODER RING). I’m not an aficionado of any of the genres Israfel covers by any means, but you’d have to be a real head to know most of these: in terms of notoriety, the Locust (who contribute a 47 second blast of lo-fi outrage) are basically Led Zeppelin compared to the rest of the acts, most of whom topped out with a couple of EPs and compilation appearances.

Of course, hearing music that would otherwise be basically lost to time is the appeal of taking a flyer on a comp like this. One of my favourite tracks is “Untitled” by Roanoke, VA’s the Weak Link Breaks, supposedly the first thing the band ever wrote (and, judging from their discography, nearly the last too). It begins with a very, very quiet spacy-Fugazi-style amble (the vocal harmonies couldn’t be more Ian and Guy) that explodes into a brief screamo-style D-beat section, and then some big heaving riffs that make me want to exaggeratedly lift and stomp my feet like a giant trying to keep his balance. I also dig Murfreesboro, TN’s Serotonin, an emo / post-hardcore act with a steely '80s shred band guitar tone who play like they want people in the pit to twirl around ecstatically instead of slam dancing. A lot of the other nasty yowling cat speedballs on Israfel don’t really catch my ear, but that’s okay—I’m weirdly proud of them 27 years after the fact for being themselves and getting out whatever they needed to get out through this violence.

The package’s tone is all over the place. The zine opens with a haunting description of the compilation’s beneficiaries, the family of a pair of little girls with spinal muscular atrophy (a common birth defect) whose condition worsened until they perished, leaving their parents distraught and financially ruined—and the 21-year-old compiler racked with guilt that he didn’t somehow do more to help. From there, it whips through his heterodox thoughts about the hardcore scene (despicably self-absorbed; unresponsive to requests from label operators); the state of emo (too abstract); the best way to bring about change (working within the capitalist system); rape (it’s bad; consent is black and white; can we stop litigating this in the scene?); calling the cops (fine to do); disrespecting the American flag (played out; tacky); and drinking/drug use (“when did self-destruction become rebellion?”). After he finishes up, each band (that got their artwork in on time anyway) gets a page to talk about themselves. This section is full of old school punk zine/leaflet treasures, with designs that mimic motel newspaper ads, postcards, messy handwritten perzines, and Xeroxed 7” grindcore sleeves.

It's funny reading his scornful words about pseudo-rebellious drunkards stumbling toward “the day when punk rock is shelved for an 8 hour workday, Budweiser, and television” and then finding his LinkedIn, where he describes himself as “driving omnichannel excellence” and as “whimsical (after coffee).” You wouldn’t believe it from the splenetic angst of the Israfel zine, but the guy seems like he turned out happy and normal, with a few kids and a successful career. I wonder how the 21-year-old would see the 48-year-old, if he’d call him a sell-out or feel relieved that things worked out; if the 48-year-old would pity his former self, or feel ashamed about losing his edge. More one-time zinesters and hardcore kids end up looking square from a distance than you’d think (I certainly do if you catch me during the workday), because you usually stop hearing about them when they drop out of the scene. For most, the quiet part of life is the larger portion by far. It’s your choice whether to embrace that, mourn it, or seek your own alternative. But if Israfel reminds us of nothing else, it’s the importance of having a good scream at least once in your life.

364/365

[proseka-headcanons]

hey can i protect on shiho rq? thanks.

non binary shiho real... they use they/he* an kit/kits**. most gender words to him are girlfailure, femboy and boygirl... fem presenting too.. afab, shizuki was confused as shit

*i actually use they/her and kit/kits. but whatever.

**works like it/its but with a k in front.

someone already said but aphantasia... no image in head, no sound in head.. just empty. no thoughts even. however empty distracting bc you know what SHOULD go there

has a british accent despite not being british

autism. also adhd. also chronic anxiety. also aspd (antisocial personality disorder)

more on aspd. the bitch dont feel guilt at all or empathy but pretends to bc thats what everyone expects.. and is trapped in a web of white lies due to kits compulsive lying but!!! theyre trying to get better... also gets addicted to gatcha games far too quickly

aroace but really wants a qpr to the point theyll date for it. and also likes the word lacebian too much to let it go. and hates the sunset lag with a burning passion.

bad with money (aspd? maybe? idk man)

OH!! doesnt mask the autism but does mask the aspd.... he thinks kits just a huge asshole bc they havent heard of it

shizukis like REALLY overprotective and its down to the 'oh let me carry that glass! i dont want you to drop it!' level

allergic to contact lenses and needs glasses to see long distances but gets by fine without them.. he has them kit just dont wanna wear them

they are terrified of driving his friends away.. they feel like kits the main character in everyones lives and hates it so doesnt talk at all

constantly constructs new personalities and changes memories to fit,, head full of false memories but doesnt know it

listens to hyperpop and introduced it to saki who is now a hardcore enarria fan

projects onto fictional characters and steals their personality and also gender sometimes

and this is why i should be known as unofficial mod shiho. thank you. bows. - 🍜

i do nawt have the energy to read all that but i support you unofficial mod shiho

[knaveofmogadore]

Thinkin on this fine and terrible monday morning. We don't really talk about the micro-cults that spring up on the internet and how easy it is to get sucked into that cult-like, "don't break the groupthink" mindset in groups on the internet. And how much harder it is to break out of those groups mentally when they're completely online and so their impact on your life is harder to pinpoint. When you're trapped in a toxic circle in real life, it's easier, I feel, to pinpoint exactly where your problems are coming from. But when those people are online? When it's "less real" (it is not less real) and so harder to fathom the impact they're having on your mental health, it's much harder to snap yourself out of that mindset to see you're being treated badly.

And like, this obviously applies to MLMs online, and insular subcultures like Virgin Support Group that eventually turn into groups like incels, sure. Obviously. MAGA also.

But I'm also talking about hold on I got a customer call

Some guy wants a cabinet built for his fridge. Anyway

I'm also talking about like, gaming groups. Fandom discords. Closed subreddits. Places within public space but isolated from it. Places where people feel that everyone else is on their wavelength. Then it's "wow, you didn't know that?" and "X's feelings were hurt when you asserted yourself" and The Game of A Mod's Million Whims. It's being mad when you're offline, the double standards, the Share and Shame (the outsider). These environments are bizarre and they're everywhere and we do NOT talk enough about how unsafe they are. The One True Mod culture can get kind of scary. Public ostracization is just as if not a more effective threat online as it is in real life. They use the same tactics as real life cults too; love bombing, elitist mentality, black and white morality, group will, group mood swings. Enforcing guilt through esoteric social rules or Political Praxis, asking that you demonstrate the values of the group publicly at every opportunity. The GROUP values, mind, not yours.

Some of these groups are more of a mob mentality, while others have a person that they rally around and depend on for the final ruling. I think the ones with The One True Mod are much harder to leave because at least a few people know you personally. For mob scenes, you can just kind of lurk your way out of there.

Anyway, we should bring back the 1980's PSAs on cults. Also the satanic panic was not a real thing, a therapist scammed a kid's mom hardcore and a bunch of people made shit up. Not all religions are cults and not all cults are religions. hmn what else. I disagree that calling a cult a cult is somehow obfuscating the word or demeaning the idea, if it looks like shit and smells like shit, it's not a fucking duck. Combatting Cult Mind Control by Steven Hassan is a good book published before the satanic panic, he was a member of The Moonies in the 70s and 80s and republished the book in 2015, though I think the 1988 version is better as a beginner read.

More random opinions from someone who used to get spit on by jahovas witnesses in walmart:

If you're in your thirties+ and run a discord where you encourage people younger than you to see you as the final opinion on what's problematic you have a problem with control and need to leave those people alone. Subcultures are NOT cults but create a breeding ground for small time personality cults which are a really shitty way to get bullied. It's good for teenagers to have adult friends, but be wary if an adult doesn't have friends their own age. Well adjusted adults will have a mix of friends from many age groups. Do NOT hang out with adults that exclusively hang out with teenagers, there is a reason other adults avoid them like the plague. Form your political opinions based on facts, not peer pressure. Disobeying your parents in small ways is good and healthy. uhhhh.

Cancel culture is terrible and not productive to creating a kind society, it's just a way for a lot of people to feel comradery by being upset at the same thing. Friend groups that exclusively complain about others and have nothing nice to say will drain your brain. If the people you hang out with never have anything nice to say about YOU, stop hanging out with them. You are not better than anyone else especially as a collective. And be wary of people who can't handle it when they're upset about something and you're not.