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cloveroctobers · 3 years ago

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OJ HAYWOOD x READER / Summer Prompts !

A|N: with Jordan’s work, I always have to read other theories or reviews because I am usually in awe of everything I just witnessed. I also love seeing other people’s perspectives on his films. Any Jordan Peele slander is not welcomed over here, I respect your (wrong) opinion but ain’t nobody trying to hear that 😂! Anyways I knew I wanted to write for Daniel—OJ the moment I stepped out of the film.

WARNINGS: kinda lengthy + reading between the lines literally & spoilers? Sorta if you haven’t seen it but not really? takes place only a few months after the p*s*ing of Otis Sr. But BEFORE the events of the movie take place. + reader given a name but still written in second POV 😬

Plot: dancing through the night + cold cocktails

From this prompt list.

⎯⎯ ୨ ୧ ⎯⎯ ⎯⎯ ୨ ୧ ⎯⎯ ⎯⎯ ୨ ୧ ⎯⎯

Death has many faces and it can show you plenty.

You, Aïchatou, “Aïcha,” for short had your own lesson with death on multiple occasions. From the death of your parents, godparents, and your own brush of death at sixteen, in a sense you became desensitized to it. Some might even say obsessed on certain days but you knew how to separate from the heaviness of it all, the best way you knew how.

A death like Otis Sr. Was unexplainable even after three months had passed. The world slowly shifted when OJ and Em lost their father, it was another chapter of death for them that they had to cope with. This was unnatural. You’ve been friends with the Haywood’s since your pre-teen years, becoming quite attached to the ebony skinned OJ—who was only a grade ahead of you. From there you instantly became family and the Haywood’s couldn’t get rid of you even if they wanted to.

The night sky bled a deep blue on a misty but humid April. There was not a spec of stars in the sky or clouds as you blinked up at it, standing on the porch of the Haywood’s. You lived out of the way, much like many of the residential areas here in Agua Dulce but a whole thirty-five minutes away can be nerve-wrecking.

“I mean, you know you don’t have to come out here every Friday night right?” OJ said to you over the phone, as you returned home from work.

Huffing, you shuffled out of your work uniform top, phone once buried between your neck and shoulder, “Not uh, It’s routine since I can barely keep you away from the ranch long enough or else you’ll start missing the horses more than hanging with your girl.”

OJ hummed at that. He knew it was true, it was already written in stone that he and Em were to keep the legacy of Haywood’s Hollywood Horses going…despite Em focusing on her other business first. OJ took that more seriously after his father passed, it was all on his shoulders now��especially since he found out how much in debt his father was in.

Äicha understood that. She couldn’t be mad at that, she hardly got mad in the first place since she always felt like time shouldn’t be wasted on anger.

“What you bringing tonight anyway?”

“Nothing but the best homemade cocktails,” You placed the phone on speaker as you tossed it on the bed, “I just have to run to the store real quick and grab a few more bottles then I’ll be on the way.”

OJ glanced at the watch on his wrist as he stood outside, “So nine something? Got it.”

“It won’t be! See you soon!”

You arrived 8:35pm and was let in by no other than Emerald, who gave you the run down of taking a break from her current situationship. The house was already jumping with the classics as you took over the Haywood kitchen, preparing a special drink for the curly-fro girl.

Sliding a bowl of a drink towards Em was almost as if you handed her a bag of money. Her mouth was agape as she wrapped her fingers around the large glass, “see I didn’t know you were rocking like this!? OJ’s stupid ass would never send me a pic over text whenever I asked what y’all were up to on these Friday night’s. Girl!”

You laughed as Em pulled out her phone to take pictures and videos of her apple ciroc candy bowl. “Damn, you should be a bartender.”

“I was remember? Until my boss decided to turn into a stalker two months after he hired me.” You grabbed another glass.

Emerald shuddered before taking a sip from her drink with a smack of her lips, “that’s right! I don’t know what type of shit he was on but it’s a shame you felt like you had to be nice to a dude who you did not want a relationship with! People got to take rejection like a rim of salt and keep it moving! He’s not still bothering you ‘cause I know somebody that can take care—

The slamming of the screen door announced that OJ decided to grace y’all with his presence. He stomped through the house, circling around to where you two were chilling in the kitchen.

“What’s up? You done playing my little pony?” Em teased as her big brother entered the room.

OJ of course chose to ignore her, pressing his hands onto the island his sister sat out before deciding to reach out for her drink. He was always much quicker than Em was, placing his lips on the rim to take a sip, which made em suck her teeth.

“Can’t have nothing in this house, clearly nothings changed!” Em yelled.

OJ bared his teeth as he swallowed the alcoholic beverage before sliding it back over to Em who side-eyed him, “that’s good, tutu.”

You smiled.

“I thought your favorite fruit was something else, don’t lie negro.”

“Just because it’s not my favorite doesn’t mean it ain’t good?” He blinked at the girl who scoffed.

“Well this right here, is mine. Äicha may not charge you a fee out of the kindness of her heart but I ain’t so nice. I’ll be expecting compensation via cashapp, Apple Pay, PayPal—whichever you prefer.” Em grinned mockingly at OJ who rolled his eyes back over to you, who was already preparing another just for him.

Em Haywood was the talker out of the two of you so conversation flowed easily. You served OJ a peach-crown royal bowl before making your own fruit drink. Soon the conversation led to the living room where you all got comfortable from Em bringing out the vape to you and OJ continuing to cradle your drinks. Normally the night would consist of drinks and catching up on some show together or streaming a movie or playing some sort of game.

That didn’t seem to be happening tonight as Em’s phone started to blow up. She would break the conversation to read the text, not reply and carry on.

“Don’t give a damn about that right now!” Em hissed, “Äicha tell us about your love life since I know OJ’s is already nonexistent. That man don’t know how to separate from this house.”

OJ lightly shook his head.

“Who wants to hear about all that?” You chuckled, taking a sip of your own fruity cocktail.

Em peered at you underneath her eyelashes, “I do! You’re a catch girl, I don’t know how many times I have to tell you. Whatever happened to the blue eyed bow-legged brotha?”

“Austin? No.” You simply replied, “that ended back in March? It wasn’t going anywhere, he’s in a whole new relationship now according to his Instagram.”

“You’re still following each other?”

“Yes?”

Em scrunched up her nose, “why?”

“Just never got around to unfollowing? It wasn’t a bad break-up or whatever you want to call it.”

“He might think you’re still interested on what’s going on in life when I know you probably aren’t, you’re usually good at letting things go, I’m really surprised at you.” Em summarized as you shrugged once more.

Picking up your phone, you unlocked it and searched for his page to unfollow. Waving the phone in the air you said, “there it’s done. Can we move on?”

“Sure,” em smirked as she peeked over at OJ who appeared bored of this conversation—fingers tapping on the arm of the couch, “I’ve been saying it…you should just date OJ. You haven’t been finding what you need with these other dudes.”

That made OJ snap his eyes to his sister who wiggled her brows at him. He took a sip from his drink again and got ready to push off the chair, “not this shit again.”

Yes, again. It wasn’t the first and last time Emerald Haywood would say this. For as long as she’s known the pair she always felt confident in saying this, it wasn’t her fault how you two always chose to receive that.

OJ got up from the chair and made his way back to the hallway and towards the front door.

“Where you going?” Em called out to the back of her brother’s frame.

He just waved two fingers in the air at her in response before he carried on, exiting the house. Sinking into the couch you rolled your head over to Em who lifted her shoulders, “what?”

“You gotta stop playing match maker.”

“I only do it for the people I love. There’s no harm in that, he needs somebody! You’re the perfect one! What happens when I make it big and head to the real hills, who’s gonna be here for him? The leftover horses? That’s not enough.” Em fanned her hand, crossing one leg over the other.

Emerald Haywood always had the dream to have fame and the money but most of all she wanted to be known. Yes the horses are part of her history but she didn’t want it to be her main brand, she wasn’t sure why her dad and brother couldn’t see that.

You got it and her mom did too.

With OJ, the horses were his future. It was destined that it would be the moment his mother gave birth to him and he had no problem accepting that. It was instilled in him since the moment he learned how to walk and he wouldn’t leave it behind just because his father was gone. He would be damned if he didn’t at least try to keep it going. He always knew the horses weren’t in Em’s plans, she always has her mind somewhere else. To be somewhere else. Chasing the fame and the fortune.

With you? He never thought about you leaving Agua Dulce. Sure it could be a possibility but you never talked about relocating, even when you ventured off for weekends with some blond dude that didn’t deserve you. OJ was happy to know that you decided to call it quits—although you never mentioned it, it just seemed like a waste of time and you never wanted to be a person that did that.

Otis James Haywood Jr. wanted you around.

So when you left Em to share a lengthy conversation with her situationship on her phone, joining Otis in the spring night, the tension in his shoulders relaxed.

You stood beside him, looking up into the night fighting the urge of your brain trying to question why OJ always brushed Em’s statement revolving around you two away. Normally you followed suit when you were younger, more embarrassed than anything but soon you understood. Yet your brain felt scrambled tonight and you didn’t want it to be.

OJ shifted to rest his back against the banister, still cradling the drink you made him while you set yours on the railing, staring forward pass the arena. It was quiet when the horses rested in the stables but the misty breeze provided just enough to fill that silence.

That’s the thing between you and OJ, you were comfortable in silence together. It never mattered but tonight was different. Tonight could bring a miracle…would it be a good one is the question?

The speakers seemed to shift to a slower melody. Which made you glance at OJ during the night as he kept sipping on his drink.

“The vibe is much better out here.”

You laughed, “it probably be even better if you got closer to the horses.”

“Maybe,” OJ replied, “This spot right here is cool too.”

Next to you.

Inhaling you nodded your head at that, listening to lyrics that smoothly escaped the singer’s lips:

Yes I'm sitting right here

Waiting for you my dear

Wondering if you ever

want to show up

You folded your fingers together, cracking them earning a bewildered expression from OJ’s wide down-turned eyes in the night. A laugh bubbled past your lips, realizing OJ hated the sound of your bones cracking on purpose. Shaking your hands out, you stepped towards OJ and took his drink from his hands to set besides yours. OJ watched your movements carefully, once you turned back to face him you reached up for his brimmed hat—with his quick reflexes he latched onto your wrist, halting your movements.

That man loved his hats.

So why did you think you could take it for yourself? A smile curled on the side of your lips, raising your fingers to show that you meant no harm. OJ let your wrist go, leaving you to sneak your hands around his broad shoulders. Stepping closer to him you took in his scent of warmth, despite him spending hours upon hours in stables…OJ always smelled heavenly.

Like leather warmed by the soft sun, a glass of brandy, and pine. A scent so soothing and slightly smoky that you couldn’t get enough of.

“This is the part where you put your hands on my hips,” you suggested, pulling back slightly to get a good look at the stunning dark skinned man.

OJ snorted at you, “what is this prom 2.0?” He asked, nonetheless placing his large hands right on your curves.

Crossing your arms behind his head you softly smiled, remembering prom with OJ and your group of friends. You originally weren’t going to go after a boyfriend of yours played you, did a whole promposal in front of the school just to decide to take his ex three days before prom instead. OJ wasn’t going to let you sulk at home but your plans were just to watch some rom-com’s, however OJ dragged you out to a spot in the hills with your friends, in your prom dress dancing to songs blasting on a friend’s car stereo with underglow and headlights as your source of light for the night. it still remained to be one of the happiest nights you had.

“You mean 3.0 for you?” You corrected while OJ nodded his head from side to side, thinking about it.

Resting your head against OJ’s chest, the two of you began to sway as you listened to the drum of his heart while Billy Stewart continued singing:

Sitting here on the bench

With my back against the fence

Wonderin'-a-if I

Have any sense

“What’s the next few months looking like for you, tutu?” OJ quizzed, his hands seemed to tighten on your lower back.

Sighing you answered, “I’ll probably put my two weeks in, move to Vegas, become a casino girl and get brainwashed by the money and a mobster who shows me that cash rules everything around me. OR…I’ll find a guy who owns a winery and learn how to become a business woman myself…” you rambled.

None of those sounded like you. Which made a frown settle in between OJ’s brows. You weren’t about the money but you knew you needed money to survive, which is why you didn’t mind changing jobs every couple of years. You needed to do something new with your time when it came to survival.

You just simply lived with the time everyone was given.

“Wait…that was Austin,” you laughed humorlessly, “or I could take my best friend’s little sister’s advice and date her brother? He’s a old school horse guy and I’m many things so who knows?”

But nevertheless I say again

you gotta be waiting

Sittin' in the park,

Waitin' for hoooo-hoo-hoo-hoo

It was OJ’s turn to smile. He found himself biting down on his bottom lip slightly thinking that over. You felt good against him that night, you felt right, always. And OJ began to think about the what if’s with you. That’s when he began to put more step into the beat, one hand reaching up to intertwine your fingers which you stared up at, your head still resting on his chest.

You swayed in a slow circle together, switching directions so now that OJ had a good view of the sky. He noticed a small puff of a singular cloud just sitting there, if he focused hard enough he could almost see the rim of something flat peeking out. However he found himself no longer staring out there, the both of your heads snapping up as the music skipped at the next set of lyrics followed by a flash.

“Y’all so damn cute! I was right, thank me later.” Em stood in the door way, one fist digging into her waist while the other held her phone which snapped a picture.

Laughing you peeked at OJ who rolled his eyes at his sister. “What happened to the music?”

Em answered, glancing over at the record player, “I dunno, I never knew for any of daddy’s records to skip but hey, first time for everything.”

Clearing your throat, you opened your lips to say something but the pick up of a breeze caused all of your eyes to turn to the distance. It was faint but a spiral of dirt made itself known on the pathway towards the house. It was not uncommon for a sandstorm to appear in these parts of the town but it was strange to see at night.

“Yeah…nah let’s head in for the night.” OJ stated, forgetting about the drinks on the banister as he held the door open for you.

Emerald dipped her head, stepping back from the doorway, as you were next to move your eyes away and head inside with OJ locking the screen door and front door behind you all. Em decided to turn off the vinyl for the night, making you switch the tv on which jumped for a bit on a specific station before it seemed to settle as you changed the channel. The Haywood house was always the same, nothing was upgraded, so you were usually stuck with cable here.

OJ entered the room with sheets and pillows tucked underneath his arms. He tossed a set to Em who immediately began making a pallet right in front of the tv. He turned to you, holding out a pillow and sheet, “looks like you’re staying with us tonight?”

“Fine by me.” You tucked the pillow behind your head and wrapped the sheet on top of your body, after kicking off your boots.

You had no intentions of leaving tonight.

Something told you to stay put…so you listened.

OJ made his own pallet right in front of the couch, laying on his back, arms folded behind his head and hat tilted towards his eyes.

“Y’all seen this episode of the twilight zone before?” Em asked you two in the quiet of the night.

The place is here. The time is now, and the journey into the shadows that we are about to watch, could be our journey.

You could feel OJ’s eyes on you as you listened.

Once you met his eyes, the pair of you held each other’s stare for awhile before realizing that neither of you answered Emerald’s question. OJ kept his eyes locked on yours and opened his mouth to respond but was cut off by Emerald’s snoring.

Which erupted a groan from OJ who placed his hand over ear and flipped over to face you.

Laughing to yourself you suddenly whispered, “well…goodnight, everybody.”

OJ raised two fingers in the air up at you, leaving you to stretch and place two fingers against his.

⎯⎯ ୨ ୧ ⎯⎯ ⎯⎯ ୨ ୧ ⎯⎯ ⎯⎯ ୨ ୧ ⎯⎯

Continue along with my summer anthology prompts here.

#nope #nope spoilers #nope 2022 #Jordan peele #oj haywood #Otis James haywood jr #emerald haywood #oj haywood x reader #summer prompts #summer prompt #oj haywood x oc #daniel kaluuya #keke palmer #em haywood #nope x reader

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gffa · 3 years ago

Video

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#THIS ENTIRE INTERVIEW IS A DELIGHT [x][x] #EXCEPT THE PART ABOUT DISPARAGING THE JEDI MULLET FROM AOTC #HOW DARE YOU SIR #THAT LOOK WAS HANDSOME AS HELL #AND I WILL NOT STAND FOR THIS SLANDER The Phantom Menace "I remember the idea of it being short. I think they were looking for something in a military sense or in the world of monks that there's some sort of hairstyle sacrifice in order to be a Jedi. I guess to become a Jedi you have to give up the idea of being married or there's some sort of monk-like qualities that are similar." "What I didn't like very much was when we came back, there was always a period of time after the main shoot where we came back to do some reshoots. And for Episode I, it was six, seven, eight months after the principal photography, we had to come back and I was doing something else and I couldn't cut my hair. And so they made a wig that was a short hair wig, which is the worst kind of wig. If you've got a wig and it's long hair, you can disguise the fact that it's a wig, but when it's a short hair wig, it's a nightmare. I've seen some clips of both Episode I and the reshoots from Episode 2 where you're like, 'Are you kidding me?'" "And then for Episode I, not only did I have to wear it for the reshoots, and it's usually just a little shot here or there for reshoots. And most people don't really notice it. But some bright spark decided to put me on a poster in the wig! They picked an image of me from the reshoots and I saw myself in this huge poster in the wig. And I'm like, 'Are you kidding? You couldn't find a still of me when from the real shoot?' Unbelievable. I don't know who that was, but I'd love to meet them one day and just say, 'Are you f---ing kidding me about that?'" Attack of the Clones "We called it the sort of Jedi mullet. It could be in some second-degree way a little cool, but not really. It was very mullet-y and sort of quite inspired pretty much by the Bee Gees, I think really. Jedi Bee Gees. So yeah, I didn't like it very much, but I guess there's some sort of progression. Hayden had to go through a similar sort of progression with his hair where it's shorter when you were Padawan, then longer at the back." Revenge of the Sith "Ultimately in Episode III, we get onto a haircut, which is heading more towards Alec Guinness in Episode IV. We were looking at pictures of Alec Guinness in Episode IV and we were definitely trying to bridge that gap. We thought, this is the last we're going to see of Obi-Wan Kenobi before he's Alec Guinness. And so we're sort of moving in that direction. We put some graying in here. We grayed up the beard a little bit. And it was a much shorter haircut. I think the Episode 2IIhaircut was meant to be like warrior, and the Episode III haircut was meant to be more master, teacher. So I think my idea was definitely to try and get closer to Alec Guinness. It was to try and show that that's where I was headed." Obi-Wan Kenobi "So we find Obi-Wan at the beginning of our story, it's a longer haircut. I think it's a man who's been not looking after himself so much, and I wanted a much more sort of unkempt look where Obi-Wan starts at the beginning of that story, he's pretty hopeless. He's without hope, he's without faith and he wanted this sort of hair and beard to represent that. So it's much more less groomed and longer."

#obi wan kenobi #ewan mcgregor #video

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shotorozu · 4 years ago

Note

omg , so i saw this one tiktok and i can’t find it but it gave me an idea and reminded me of ur posts LMEDOEKOH

so like what if somebody posted a tiktok trying to slander like todobakudeku ( separatly duh ) ‘s gf trying to say that like ‘ i would be better then her ’ etc etc

and then THEY THEMSELVES duet the video like ‘ yeah no, my gf solos ’

LIKE LMAONEODNDMDM

“my s/o solos”

(tiktok prank)

character(s) : todoroki shouto, bakugou katsuki, midoriya izuku (bnha)

PART TWO (will contain shinsou, kirishima and denki possibly)

legend : [Y/N = your name, L/N = last name] fem! reader as requested (appearance is pretty ambiguous) quirk mentioned, not specific

headcanon type : angst if you squint, fluff, crack (x reader)

note(s) : YOU’RE SO SMART FOR THIS ‼️ that is all. at this point, we’re friends 😼👆this time, the tables have been turned, and THEY’RE THE ONES DOING THE TOK-ing ™️

»»————-　♡　————-««

todoroki shouto

okay, i gotta tell everyone this first— shouto todoroki NEVER goes on tiktok without you being in the same room.

like yeah, he downloaded the app because 1. you recommended it, so of course he’s gonna do what you say. and 2. so the both of you could scroll on it when there’s nothing else to do

otherwise, he sees literally no reason to be on the app 🧍‍♀️ so, my next point is that one of his friends alerted him about the tiktok

shouto was training with his quirk, when he received a message— and to him it’s odd, because people usually know that he’s training, and to text him later.

he decides to take a break, and sees that midoriya sent him a video, and a message. and, the context has the youngest todoroki CONFUSED.

[midoriya has sent an attachment] ‘hey todoroki! i think you might wanna see this ^^;; have you seen this already? please don’t get mad.’

the video above was a tiktok of some girl that looks like his age SLANDERING his s/o, saying proudly and shamelessly, “i love shouto but wow, there’s no taste at all. i would be a better fit for him.”

shouto’s standing there confused because he’s never seen, or spoken to her before. and second of all— why would this rando be better than Y/N L/N

it’s so confusing, to the point he might’ve made the training room a bit colder with his quirk, subconsciously

and suddenly, he regrets making his hero name his first name. she has no right to be saying his name like that.

“i’m done training,” he says out loud, and he immediately texts back, asking his friend for the @, which he receives (but midoriya’s lowkey quaking in his seat bc wtf is his friend gonna do exactly 😨❓)

you know how i said that shouto has the app already downloaded? yeah, he already started up his account months ago. sporting a simple profile picture, having a extremely short bio, and only follows friends from UA. and you, teehee

but, the account itself’s on private— so he IMMEDIATELY changes his account’s settings to public, finds the account and video slandering Y/N, and clicks on the duet option.

you see where i’m going here? he’s gonna show you off, just because he can :) and the next move for shouto is to find you 😈

he quickly locates you, finding you in your respective dorm. shouto greets you like how he usually does— and you don’t seem unnerved by anything, or make any mention of a tiktok, so he’s super relieved.

“hey, shou—” not showered, sporting a light layer of sweat, and not caring but with fervor, shouto quickly presses the play button, and kisses you straight on the lips.

you kiss back, familiar with his lips. and though you don’t question his action, and the sudden eagerness, you do notice the phone that’s right in your faces💀

but you do get an idea of what’s happening, when you catch a glimpse of his screen. seeing the familiar layout— you’re under the impression that he’s filming a tiktok of his own.

when shouto rests his forehead against yours, you smile— noticing the fact that he’s looking at you like you’re the best thing that’s happened to him not that he never stops looking at you like that

“my girlfriend solos, Y/N solos.” shouto speaks clearly into the camera, and not a single shred of waver or doubt is in his voice.

it warms your heart, but you burst out in hysterics. simply because it was very random, and shouto said that in the most monotonic voice you’ve heard 💀

he shortly posts the duet afterwards, the tiktok’s description having one hashtag, #youlose, and it reacting it’s maximum capacity (filled with reasons as to why you’ll always be superior.)

and the tiktok BLOWS up— ratio-ing and gaining a lot of likes compared to the original poster, by a lot.

the fact that a ton of people have seen it, and commented on it, is almost humiliating, shameful.

to you and shouto anyway, but it was SUPER embarrassing to the girl, since everyone was making fun of her (let’s just say the video had 2400 likes and 20.k comments)

with people commenting stuff like ‘LOL NOT SHOUTO TODOROKI RATIOING YOU’ ‘this is embarrassing 😬’ ‘delete this now omg i’d never live with myself if i was in your place 😭’

it was so bad the girl had to go private for a bit, but it’s not like everyone forgot what she did— when she returned a week later 💀

now everyone knows not to slander Y/N L/N— since you’re always going to be by his side, and you’re always going to be his. (as if they weren’t cautious already.)

bakugou katsuki

probably goes on tiktok only when he’s SUPER bored, and if you’re with him. otherwise katsuki doesn’t hop on tiktok that often.

it’s not like he hates it, he can deny it all he wants, but he enjoys doing tiktok trends with you

and on top of that, he says the usual “i have better shit to do” when asked about his tiktok activity, and that’s quite true. with quirk training and everything that goes on in UA.

moving on to the next point, katsuki was reaching a new kind of bored— all lunch, and stretching into the afternoon. he was interning the day before, so it’s a given that he’d rest

meanwhile, you were out interning too. he already trained in the morning, so it’s not like he could train plus he did kinda wanna spend some time with you

so yeah, he was bored. hated that he resorted to tiktok, but it wouldn’t hurt to go on it— just to see if there was anything interesting

he was right. in a way, he did find something interesting, but it’s not in the kindest way.

because right after he entered the app, he came across a tiktok of some random girl taking RANDOM DISSES at Y/N.

“who the fuck is this extra??”

the algorithm has it’s funny ways, it’s almost as if he was supposed to see that. just by hearing her voice— that were like nails on a chalkboard, he’d grimace. so imagine his face when he heard her ridiculous points 💀

“katsuki is so hot omg, but Y/N on the other hand..? not so much. i can’t sense the good vibes, or chemistry, on top of that, she sounds too bland to be hyping up. i’d be better than her.”

the comments weren’t any better. because they were full with her friends agreeing “you spoke facts‼️” “ngl they have no chemistry.” “YOUR SHIPNAME WITH HIM SOUNDS BETTER DW YOU’LL GET HIM‼️”

he would’ve ignored it, if he was the one being dissed. like if he was insulted for whatever reason— but this random extra, insulting you? and her best friends backing her up? distasteful. repulsive

also, who gave her the right to call him by his first name? he prefers being addressed. but right now?— katsuki rather not be addressed this way.

katsuki might have a tiktok account but it’s not very personalized— no spicy, specialized username, no profile picture, no bio, and it’s a private account.

so, what he does is that he makes a NEW account, makes a personal username— lordexplosionmurder, the profile picture being his middle finger, and with a simple bio that says “fuck off dunce face. LORD EXPLOSION MURDER.”

so yeah, it really sounds like him. without a doubt.

he then finds the original poster, and comments a bunch of things under the post.

mostly “L.” and a string of 😐 and swear words— but that wasn’t enough for him, so he clicked on the duet option, and waited for your arrival

you come back to the dorm, and everyone’s eerily quiet. (it’s because they saw the tiktok and they’re scared to find out if you know about it) confused, you go to katsuki’s room— and he’s there waiting for you like normal.

he’s glad you’re unaware of the stupid tiktok, because the last thing katsuki wants is for you to discover that. “hey dumbass, come over here for a sec.” you do as he says, thinking he wants to squash you in a hug 💀

but he just— settles his head in between your legs, and he starts recording the duet.

he’s silent for a second before he squishes your thighs against the sides of his head, not caring about your protests— “hm, i fucking disagree. with all of this, i think my girl solos.”

he flips off the camera, a satisfied smirk curving his lips, before he ends the video. then, he climbs up from your legs— facing you, so he could inquire you about your day 💀 as if that totally didn’t just happen

you ask him questions, but he only disregards them— and you’re left confused, until you come across a duet that had like,, 300k likes

it was a duet of KATSUKI replying to this girl that was dissing you 💀 seeing that makes a lot of sense now.

katsuki apparently uploaded the duet a few hours after the initial recording, and it blew up without hashtags 😳 all of the comments he left on the girl’s video each have 10-15k likes more likes than the original video itself

everyone clowned them so much, to the point the girl and her friends had to limit their comments, and post an apology video (which katsuki will not accept anyway.)

you tease him about it later on, but he just scoffs and rolls his eyes— “they only apologized, because i ridiculed them for everyone on that shitty app to see. serves them right.”

and now, everyone is fearful for anyone that slanders you— because he WILL find out, and slander them back.

oh, and the girl deactivated not long after— which katsuki laughed about 💀

midoriya izuku

probably the most active out of the main three 💀 he works, trains and studies as much as he can, sure— but he frequents tiktok a lot

one, because he goes on the app when he’s super bored and it’s too late to be rambling out loud to you, let alone anyone. and two— he’s a big all might fan. he posts a lot of analytic tiktoks, and follows people that make similar content.

plus his friends and you, of course.

so, t’s strange for izuku to see something different. like drama outside of the heroes community, and secret accounts made by his friends.

i headcanon izuku to be that kind of person that watches all the tiktoks he sees on his fyp. if he doesn’t agree with the tiktok, he won’t give it a like, and he’ll continue scrolling. sometimes he’ll comment and disagree nicely

with that being said, he’s flattered and surprised when he sees his face on the fyp. because one— he assumes his techniques’ being complimented and who wouldn’t like that?, definitely not izuku

and two— he never viewed himself to be SUPER attractive even though he is

but that’s all thrown out the window, the more he watches the tiktok— and he’s dumbfounded, infuriated, and MORTIFIED when he finishes watching.

it was a tiktok with 3000 likes, of a girl he’s never laid his eyes on, slandering and insulting you— Y/N L/N, out of all people. because to him, there’s nothing about you that can be hated on for no reason.

‘sure,’ he thinks, ‘you can’t please everybody, but this is too much.’

because “izuku’s such a freckled cutie, i wanna date him so baddd, but ugh, what’s with the girlfriend?? so lame, boring, and there’s no chemistry. i’d be better than her.” is NOT, and WILL NEVER be a valid reason to him.

also, the fact that the girl called him ‘izuku’ instead of ‘deku’ made him go 😃🤨❓because ONLY HIS MOM, AND Y/N CAN CALL HIM THAT 🗣‼️

it also alarmed him that 3000 people actually liked the tiktok, considering that there was a lot of unnecessary hate. you two don’t even know this person 🗿

so y’know how bakugou made a new account, and made it clear that it was very much him saying those things? izuku does the exact opposite.

makes a new account. private, no profile picture, or bio— but his username is STOPHATINGONYN 💀

he did this because he didn’t want to bring any of his personal drama on his main account— which is for his hero analytic stuff, and his usual fanboying.

and second of all— you, and all his other friends follow him there, the last thing izuku wants is for you to see that kind of stuff.

he doesn’t care if you’re headstrong, or meek. your freckled boyfriend thinks no one should see that kind of shit. especially when it’s told by a stranger

finds the girl slandering you, and begins to comment a bunch of lengthy and short things on the video.

“hi— what do you have against Y/N??” “have you met them both?? izuku and Y/N??” “why are the insults so personal??” “why do people agree with this??” “YOU’RE SO WRONG THOUGH???”

and honestly, it’s extremely obvious that it’s izuku midoriya commenting all that stuff— no one would spam the comment section, the way izuku did.

girl really thought it was just a random Y/N fanboy, and continued making fun of you— so izuku had to resort of something else

infuriated, he stitches the video, waves with a smile to prove that it’s him— then explains and tells her why she’s so, so wrong. the stitch is 2 minutes long, but he managed to speak everything needed💀

“in short— i’m not sorry, but i’m not at all interested. so, i’ll have to pass up on your request. i hope this was informative.” then he smiles, as if he didn’t absolutely roast her alive, and verbally obliterate her 💀 oh, and his smile was very passive aggressive

the caption simply says “my s/o solos :))” and he literally TAGS the girl, and posts the stitch

he logs out, and doesn’t think too much of it— BUT THE TIKTOK GAINS ATTENTION, BECAUSE I GUESS IT ENDED UP ON EVERYONE’S FYP?? AND SUDDENLY EVERYONE’S SEEING HER VIDEO AND SLANDERING HER BACK

‘man he didn’t even need to use 3 minutes to absolutely ratio you’ ‘YOU MADE IZUKU MIDORIYA MAD LOLL’ ‘sooo embarrassing 😬 this was well deserved. great response, deku!’

in the common room, all of your classmates were applauding the green haired boy for his response. you decide to ask him about it, when you two walk back to your dorm

“oh, nothing special really,” he smiles innocently, “you’ll find out in a bit. but that’s not important, so don’t worry about it.” 😃

you found the tiktok a week later, and you were honestly intrigued, amazed 💀 you took him out for a date because of that

likes and reblogs are appreciated, thanks for reading!

i do not own bnha/mha and it’s characters. boku no hero academia/my hero academia belongs to horikoshi kohei, i only own the writing and i do not profit off of my hobby

do not plagiarize, reupload, translate, or use my works for audio readings without permission :))

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bellafragolina · 3 years ago

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I am not a Laventon fan club member necessarily (Though you all are managing to win me over pretty quickly) , but headcanons for him with a " This is the most specialest man in the entire world and if you don't fuck ing cheer and clap when he comes into this room I'm gonna have to set fire to this entire place" type of hypeman SO? Someone who will NOT stand for any slander of this man at all.

Just imagining Adaman being EXTRA respectful when he meets him again and Melli suddenly learning about human decency (looking extremely nervous tough) when he comes in. "... Dear does anyone else seem on edge today?" "No idea what you're taking about.

Yessss that's me anon this is literally just headcanons about me with my love <3

🍓🍓🍓

Laventon isn't sure what to think. He's surprised to find that everyone is being surprisingly respectful of him and his work, even Warden Melli, who is never respectful. He appreciates the interest and the politeness of course, and makes sure to tell his guests that whenever they come by, but he's not sure what's caused the sudden change of heart

He asks you, but you just shrug and tell him maybe everyone finally realized what a treasure he was, like you. He blushes and kisses your cheek, thanking you for the kind words, then thinks a moment. He asks if you said anything to them, but you just cock your head

And then you start reciting a fifteen page essay you've written on why your boyfriend is the most amazing, most specialist man that's ever existed. Laventon regrets asking almost immediately, unable to handle the sudden tidal wave of compliments. He makes a mental note to apologize to his guests for your behavior next he sees them, even if this is very flattering and cute of you to love him so much that you tell everyone about it

It's when Adaman makes an offhand joke about him and you glare at Adaman with the ferocity of a slighted god that Laventon realizes that maybe you weren't just telling everyone how much you loved him. He's going to have to have a talk with you, isn't he?

He appreciates the protection, but you don't have to go out of your way for him. He can take a few hits to his pride. It's your opinion he really cares about, and he's well aware of your opinion of him. No, love, he doesn't need a reminder, please it's nearly midnight

🍓🍓🍓

I would stand on a soap box in Jubilife and recite that essay given the chance. Also, anon, can I get you a club teeshirt or a commemorative pin?

~Renee

#professor laventon x reader #laventon x reader #pokemon imagines #pokemon x reader #adaman's name looks incorrect though I'm sure that's how you spell it

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weenis-beenis · 3 years ago

Text

Not-So Lonely Room

Werewolf!Jud Fry x F!Reader

Chapter 3

prev / next

Ao3 link

Word Count: 3553

18+ Minors DNI

Tags (for the whole fic): Werewolf AU, Fix-it, Fix-HIM, Laurey and Curly and Eller slander here, Suicidal Thoughts, Discussion of suicide, Abuse Involving Food, Restriction of Food, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Smut, Some Canon Dialogue, Slightly Altered for Ease of Reading, Blood and Injury, Bathing/Washing, Intimacy, Scent Kink, Oral Sex, Vaginal Sex

Note: Special thanks to @molina-fix for beta-ing this fic

“Hey! ‘F there’s anybody out ‘round this yard tha’ can hear ma voice, I’d like fer you ta know that Laurey Williams is my girl! An’ she went an’ got me to ask her ta marry me!”

Jud winced. The cowboy’s hollering hit like a firm punch to the gut, nearly stole the breath from his lungs. He tightened his fist around Old Eighty’s lead, trying to wrangle the gnashing, clawing thing in his chest, the one screaming to be let out, to take over, while he untied the rope from its post. He’d been wrestling with the thing all night and now he had to try and quell the pit forming in his stomach, the hollow feeling eating him from the inside out. He wasn’t to set foot on Eller’s property ever again, but he thought about going back just one last time, his eyes glazing over as he gripped the saddlehorn.

He thought about the hook.

He thought about the rope.

And then there was that damn pang in the back of his skull, that sharp pain that told him he was done for. His hands began to shake. It always started in his hands. He braved a look at them, felt the tingling ache in his fingers before the dark hairs began to sprout from his knuckles, the telltale headache finally settling in and blurring his vision. Swallowing, he tried to tamp down everything that threatened to spill out, but it was no use. Anger he could fight against, he was too hot headed to let that get the best of him anymore. But this wasn’t anger. Anguish and sorrow gripped at his heart, felt like it was choking him. His body was heavy and hollow. He huffed out a broken breath, fighting, however uselessly, against the twitch in his neck.

He thought about his miserable little shack.

Maybe he’d go through with it this time.

A tap on his shoulder nearly made him lose what little composure he had left. And he turned himself around, scowling at whoever it was that snuck up on him, puffing out his chest and drawing those thick brows low over his eyes.

“What d’you want?” He growled, loomed over the poor soul that decided to find him in such a state.

The figure stumbled back, and through the haze of his pained vision, he thought he recognized them.

“Ya alright, Jud?”

You. He remembered you, remembered your voice, wracked with nerves as it was. His glower stayed, but he took a step backward, bumping into his horse. “What d’you care for?” he spat.

Something was wrong with him. His eyes were glassy, distant, and his movements were near animalistic. It made the hairs stand up on the back of your neck, and you nervously fiddled with your hands as you looked up at him. What did you care for, indeed?

Heat bloomed on your cheeks, a strange mess of haunting unease and childlike bashfulness stirred within you as you spilled to him what had been bothering you since the first day you had arrived on the territory. “I jus’ don’ think it’s right, how they been treatin’ you ‘round here.” Those glassy eyes softened for a moment. “I don’ think yer bad like they say, least I hope not. Ain’t nobody treat you right t’night. Laurey ‘specially ain’t treat you right.”

And, for a long while, Jud just stared at you, stared and said nothing, until you saw a slight twitch to his lip and it was like his whole body gave out. He bowed his head and hung his shoulders, intimidating act melting away into something weak and pained. “Ya heard that?”

“Nah, not all of it.” You took a step forward, and he didn’t move away. “Heard her yellin’ though. Heard what she called ya. Heard her fire ya.”

He turned away, eyes wet. He looked strained.

You clasped your hands together and looked down at your feet as you asked, “Ya leavin’ then?” You forced yourself to look back at him, not wanting to miss his answer. “Gonna stick ‘round the territory, or you gone fer good?” You hoped you didn’t sound as desperate as you felt. If he was gone for good, what did you have left?

His handsome face twisted up, eyes squeezed shut and arms curling defensively around himself. “Don’ know yet,” he grit out between bared teeth.

“Look,” you took another step closer, “I jus’ wanted ta check on ya, didn’t look like anyone else was goin’ to.” You rested a friendly hand on his arm, rubbed your thumb consolingly over his long flannel sleeve.

Jud jumped like you’d struck him, and you jerked your hand back. He pulled his arm close to his chest, cradling it as though it were injured. “Leave,” he snapped, voice gravelly.

Stumbling over both your words and your feet, you backed away, nearly toppling to the ground. “I’m sorry, didn’ mean ta- I didn’ know- I-”

He curled inward, trying to recede into himself like you had seen him do before, and yet he stood taller still above you.

One too-shaky step backwards and you fell to the ground, landing hard on your ass and the palms of your hands, eyes wide as you watched him flex and groan, his muscles straining and face contorting in pain. “Jud, I-” Your voice cracked, scared, helpless as he, now undeniably, grew before your eyes.

“Go!” He snarled, a last-ditch effort in sparing you before he caved and let the pain wash over him in a blinding, deafening wave.

But you were stuck, frozen in terror, body unwilling to move as you watched his body come apart.

He roared, an agonized sound that made your insides twist and tears prick your eyes. His body stretched and warped, clothes stretching, splitting, shredding open to reveal skin quickly covered by thick, black fur. There were sounds between his wails, nauseating pops as the bones in his arms and legs elongated, skin growing taut over them until it tore open. And they just kept on growing, pushing past raw muscle and flesh. Tremors and sobs wracked your body as you watched his body mangle itself, snapping, tearing, screaming.

You had to fight against your churning stomach as his face began to split apart too, opening up along those lines, which you were now certain were scars. Try as you might to look away from the open wound that the whole of his face had become, you couldn’t tear your eyes away, couldn’t even blink as you watched the bones of his mouth and nose fusing to form a muzzle, his anguished cries turning into pitiful whines. Flesh and dark fur grew around his now deeply inhuman form, carefully wrapping around all exposed tissue and bone until a wolf-like beast stood before you.

The edges of your vision had gone fuzzy, left lightheaded and hardly able to get yourself to your feet. You were trembling when he finally looked down at you, the not-so distant lights from the party reflecting in his eyes. Your already frantic heart seized in your chest as you peered into those cold eyes. You lost all feeling in your hands, waiting for the monster to clamp down on you with those massive jaws.

Nothing happened.

You both stared at one another, the silence between you filled by the booming music coming from the other side of the farmhouse.

You swallowed but it caught in your throat, the tension rising with each passing second until you feared your heart might burst.

You spoke, voice scratchy, terrified that he’d snap first if you didn’t. “Jud?”

He moved suddenly, and, for a split second, you were certain your end had come, but instead he turned, and bolted off on all fours into the night.

Sucking in a deep, relieved gasp of air, some of the tension left your body, but not much. For a moment you simply watched him run, trying to grapple with what you had seen, a part of you worried you had simply lost your mind. But you turned your head and saw Jud’s horse still standing there, strangely calm. You looked back out and saw his dark figure running through Skidmore’s fields.

“Ah, hell!” You stood and grabbed the horse’s lead, stomping your foot indignantly. “Damn it, damn it, damn it!” You were gonna chase after him.

With what last little bit of sense you still had left in you, you snatched up his tattered clothes from the grass and stuffed them into his saddlebag. The last thing he needed now was for someone else to find those and start spreading worse rumors. You put that strange trinket from before in the bag too, it having tumbled out of his pocket in the chaos.

Struggling onto the high stirrup, you threw your legs over the saddle and mounted the behemoth of a horse, your skirts hiking up your ass in a rather unladylike way, and set off at a gallop after him. You had to squint in the dark to keep an eye on his near black form sprinting through the fields, the humid summer air making you sweat and wheat whipping at your heels. You called out to him again and again, but he never slowed, only picking up his pace as you drew in closer. The horse was fast but Jud was faster, and eventually, you lost him.

But you were almost certain you knew where to find him.

You recognized the direction you had been following him in, and you figured, in his panic, it would be the only place he’d think to go to.

It took you a minute to find it once you were on Eller’s property, having never been to the smokehouse in your many visits, but you knew it as soon as you saw it. That nausea returned as you approached the place Jud called home, mixing with a new wave of dread that worsened with every step closer to the decrepit shack. The door, barely clinging to its hinges, was half opened, but you couldn’t make out anything inside it in the dark of the night.

You dismounted the horse just outside, patting her neck as thanks before turning back to the shack. It was a miserable little building, unease settling in your bones as your fingers grazed over the rotting wood. You shuddered to think that anyone would have to live in such conditions, especially all on their own.

The floorboards creaked and those rusted door hinges squeaked as you slowly crept in, tense and ready to fly out the door if anything pounced at you from the dark. Nothing came, and you allowed yourself to relax ever so slightly as you came to stand in the middle of the room.

Moonlight slanted through the large slats between the boards of the ceiling, barely illuminating the dismal space and the large plumes of dust wafting through it. You took a moment to look around, your eyes adjusting to the dark. There were gaps and knotholes in every single plank of the smokehouse, uncared for, left to rot, just like the man who lived in it.

Tools and other odds and ends were strewn about the place. Your eyes landed on a rope sitting on the rickety table in the corner of the room, tied into a noose. You stared for a moment, and suddenly it all went cold. You forgot yourself, what you were doing. Just how long had it been sitting there, tied like that?

A growl snapped you back into your time and space, made you jump and whip your head to the opposite corner of the room. There he was, his massive figure curled up beside the bed. Big glowing eyes reflected the moonlight back at you, haunting and stark against the near pitch black of his fur. Your gaze flickered to the window beside you, looking at the sky for the first time that night.

No full moon.

Cautiously, you made your way towards Jud, yes, still Jud, you reminded yourself before taking a steadying breath. Your nervous eyes flitted about, and focused in on the pictures tacked to the wall to distract yourself. You flushed, dropped your gaze back to him, pointedly ignoring the images of women in various states of undress adorning the walls.

You couldn’t help your trembling as you neared. It was Jud, it was Jud. The idea seemed ludicrous, stupid even, as you neared him. Jud, you repeated to yourself, looking at his fur, Jud, his claws, there’s a man in there somewhere, his muzzle, I know there is.

You reached out your hand, soft and vulnerable, offered it plainly to him. His lips curled back into a snarl, those razor-sharp teeth bared in an obvious threat. You stiffened, trying to ease your breathing despite the panic coursing through you. You wouldn’t, couldn’t show fear. He’d been treated like a monster for far too long.

He growled as you took another step forward. This was a terrible idea, a reckless and stupid idea. Those claws could tear you to ribbons. Those teeth could cut right through you. You could die. Easily. But another look into those shining eyes and you strengthened your resolve, remembering the warm brown that you were so fond of hiding just underneath. You knew there was a man in there somewhere, and not just a man but a good man, you’d felt it in your gut for a while now. Even if nobody else could see it, even if he couldn’t see it, you knew.

“Jud-” hardly a foot away now- “Come on back home with me now. Please.”

His posture softened, if just a bit.

You almost completely closed the distance between you, fingertips inches from his mouth. “I wanna make sure yer safe t’night.”

His eyes shone like they were wet, and you stood, waiting, until he finally reached out, hesitantly offering his clawed and furry hand out to you. You grasped it tightly, warmly, and pulled him up. “I’ll take care of ya,” you whispered as he stood on shaky legs.

His breathing was labored and he leaned on you for support as you brought him back to his horse. It took you longer than you would’ve liked to heft him onto the horse and arrange yourself so that you could both sit on the saddle. Thankfully, she really was a big horse, big enough to support the both of you, and she didn’t seem disturbed by her owner’s beastly appearance. In fact, once you thought about it, she hadn’t seemed to care all that much when he had transformed right next to her either. Must’ve been used to him then.

You pointed her in the direction of your property and set off much slower than before, thankful that your house wasn’t too far from Eller’s, and quietly thanked God for the dark cover of the night, cloaking you and the half-wolf man draped over your shoulder as you rode through the back fields of several neighbors’ property.

He was heavy, really heavy, and it made the trek all the more strenuous on you, and probably his poor horse, than you would’ve liked. But you felt his exhaustion, and let him be. You also felt how he tried not to rest the whole of his weight on you, and it was much appreciated, though he was still a lot to carry. His head rested on your shoulder, his snout next to your cheek, puffing wet breath on your skin. He didn’t smell too awful good either.

Without a word, you reached back and stroked some of the thick fur behind his ear, stomach tightening at the little whimper he gave before relaxing into your touch. His low humming rumbled through you both. The grateful response tugged on your heartstrings, and you decided to continue with your soothing pets the rest of the way home, despite the extra weight leaning on you.

You allowed yourself one small indulgence, with the adrenaline easing from your body and exhaustion settling in, to rest your head against his. His fur, as unkempt as it was, was still warm and soft on your cheek, and you were content in this small, sleepy affection.

The peace was broken with the rasp of your name against your ear, and you jumped for what felt like the hundredth time that night.

“Oh Christ, what?” You clutched your hand over your frantically beating heart.

“Tha’s yer name, ain’t it?”

You took deep breaths, trying to calm yourself. “Yeah.” You were surprised and flattered that he had remembered your name. “I didn’ think ya could talk like this.”

He merely grunted in response, sniffling the cooling night breeze. “Gonna rain.”

You looked up into the dark sky, littered with twinkling stars. Not a cloud in sight.

“You sure ‘bout that?”

He grunted again, resting his head back on your shoulder. Guess so.

He didn’t speak again until you were on your property, approaching your quaint little farmhouse, which suddenly felt like a mansion after having seen that smokehouse. “Ya live all on yer lonesome?” He mumbled.

“Yep.” You stopped the horse by the rail of your porch, easing Jud with great effort off of her and up against it. You hitched her up to the rail. “Moved out here ‘few weeks ago” you explained, getting him to sling an arm over your shoulder and hauling him towards the front door. “Got tired ‘a city life, an’ thought it’d be nice ta get a fresh start.” The short walk to the door took quite a while as you inched your way forward. Large, dark clouds rolled in on the distant horizon. Guess it was going to rain.

“Ah, right.” You couldn’t be certain, but his voice was sounding a little bit more normal, less gravelly. Just barely though. “I ‘member ya from the shop. Yer a nurse, ain’tcha?”

You strained to help him up the short step to the porch. “Yep.”

“We already got a doctor ‘round these parts, why’ anybody come to you?”

He hadn’t meant anything by it, honestly, and you knew as much. It was a decent enough question, and it didn’t bother you. Still, you saw him wincing in your periphery.

“They come-” You opened the door with great struggle and pulled him into the cozy and dark living room, the both of you sighing in relief as he dropped onto the small couch. You kicked the door closed and leaned back against a wall, taking a moment to catch your breath and roll your sore shoulders before stating rather matter-of-factly, “Cause I’m cheaper.” You lit the kerosine lamp on the end table beside him, casting the small room in its warm orange glow.

He hummed, seemingly satisfied with your answer, and sunk into the cushions. He closed his eyes and took long, deep breaths. He was turning back, slowly, very slowly, but surely. His face was starting to look more like the Jud you knew, arms and legs much more human-looking. You turned to grab him a glass of water from the kitchen, but his voice stopped you.

“Since yer a nurse-” He sat up with a groan, clawed hand holding his side. “Would ya mind lookin’ at this fer me?” There was red on his palm when he pulled it away.

You were at his side in an instant, dropping to your knees and digging your hands into his fur. It was nasty and matted and hard to part, but you found the injury after just a moment of searching.

“Ah, hell, Jud!” You gasped, eyes wide.

The gash was massive, running from just under his armpit all the way down to his hip.

“Think it opened back up t’night,” he said. “Was all dried up yesterday.”

You stood, wiping your hands on your skirt without thought, overly aware of the grime that now coated them. “Ya need to wash yerself or tha’s gonna get infected.”

He sighed, falling back against the cushions. “Cain’t ya jus’ patch it up fer me? It’ll be fine.”

His fur was in miserable shape. It was smelly and knotted and dirty. And it wasn’t like he was very clean before he turned either. He was a farmhand, usually caked in dirt and god knows what else at any given time. He hadn’t been taking care of himself, that had been evident enough. You had seen that shack. Jud was festering, and he needed help. Nobody else was going to give it to him.

Crossing your arms and setting your jaw, you stood firm in front of him. “Ya need a bath.”

“What you mean?”

“Means yer gettin’ a bath.” You turned and walked into the kitchen without waiting for a response. “Now, sit there an’ rest while I get it ready for ya.”

You turned on another lamp on the dining table. The tub sat on the opposite end of the room from you, empty, and you sighed. Of course you couldn't have known how your evening was going to play out, but you still really wished you had had the foresight not to empty it after your own bath earlier. “This’ll take a while now,” you called over your shoulder, “So get comfortable.”

#Jud Fry #Jud Fry x reader #Oklahoma!#Alfred Molina #Blood tw #Food tw #weenis writes

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sixosix · 3 years ago

Note

in honour of you hitting 900 can i request a fic where gojo, art, you and i slander @mitzimania ???? thank you in advance!!!

(mitzi if you’re reading this i l*ve you i don’t mean it)

cw, VIOLENCE!!!!! minor character death because mitzi is not a main characger, dksmp spoilers

it is a normal day… UNTIL IT ISNT!!!! mitzi stops at the sight of art, six, earf, and gojo satoru who somehow isn’t boxed, standing before them.

“your time has come,” art says, pulling out a sword that has ‘fungus slayer’ printed on it. it is an exorcism!!!! the betrayal…

“throughout heavens and earth you alone are the honored one to be a flat ass beta!” six says, and then pow pow 💥 double whammy

“LOL,” ewarth says, clapping. earf is too busy studying to be slaying mitzi

“mitzi mania, you are so stinky and foot sniffer,” gojo says, red and blue-ing mitzi to their death.

#i should be doing schoolwork rn #606:inbox #606: earthtooz

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fallenwingzero · 3 years ago

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Favorite and least favorite Gundam Wing character and why?

Oh no Anon, you're going to make me have to choose between Heero and Relena for my favourite character aren't you 😂. As much as I want to choose Heero I think I definitely have to go with Relena for also being my "most inspirational" character.

As a kid, Relena was always my favourite character (to the point where I based most of my female oc's after her lol). Watching the "Just Love" ending back in the day on Toonami made me want to be her lmao, and I always waited for episodes where she appeared.

In fact, despite Gundam Wing being a Shonen, I always felt like she was the main character (before the space arc) since she feels like she's the one driving the plot as well as the one looking for answers.

In terms of being inspirational, her kindness and strength are traits that I always try to apply to myself (as cheesy as that sounds 😅) and even recently during a Very Bad Time :TM: I was constantly asking myself "what would Relena do?" to get through the stress of constant conflict and honestly it worked. I managed to help resolve the conflict whilst also standing up for what I believed without taking slander towards myself too personally.

I honestly don't have a least favourite Gundam Wing character though? I like them all, even the ones with the most deplorable actions XD.

If I had to choose based on "most deplorable actions" though then my least favourite would be Odin Lowe.

Sure, he tells Heero to "do what his emotions tell him" which ends up being something Heero lives by, but the guy still teaches a 6-8 year old how to be a hired hitman, and spends much of his training taunting Heero for not knowing his own name and identity as well as losing everything he loved... Like wtf dude???

Then in Frozen Teardrop he's revealed to be Heero's father so "Dad of the f***ing year" I guess??? He could have told Heero his real name but decided against it for safety reasons or whatnot, but still, give the kid a break please.

But I do love a good Trash Dad :TM: character, so he's more like "Least favourite character (affectionate)"

Thank you for the ask anon!

#gundam wing #relena darlian #odin lowe #ask #my post

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popanalysis99 · 4 years ago

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Characters who suffered the worst development.

You know there are a lot of characters who develop for the better, whether a submissive character turns into a mother effing badass or they turn from a hero to a villain like Walter White from Breaking Bad or villain to a hero like Loki in the MCU.

But there are some characters who ended up suffering the worst development overtime. Whether they turn into outright jerks or wimps.

Here are the characters who had the worst development and deserved way better.

Eric Foreman - That 70′s Show

Eric was the protagonist of the series where he was portrayed as a sensible and smart guy of the group. He loved Donna so much and was constantly berated by his father Red and he always tried his best to be better at things. But as the series progresses he ended up becoming a lazy buffoon and a bit of a jerk as he ended up taking a gap year from college and did a lot of random things and wasn’t that good to Donna as he ran out on her on their wedding day because he had cold feet all the while Donna ended up sacrificing her college to stay with him and when he decided to be a teacher in Africa, he broke up with Donna over the phone because “they were going on different paths”. What a tool.

Rory Gilmore - Gilmore Girls

Rory started off as a young smart girl who is hard-working in her studies and dreams to go to Yale one day. However as the series progressed, she ended up doing a lot of reckless actions like stealing a boat and decided to give up and drop out of Yale just because some asshole said to her she will never be a journalist. Even worse she ended up forcing an already married Dean into having an affair with her and once she finally stood up and become independent and pursue her dreams of becoming a journalist, it was revealed she was unemployed the whole time, like why?

Peter Parker - Sam Raimi’s Spiderman Trilogy

Oh oh where to start with this one? Peter Parker in this version first started off as a timid nice guy who wanted to use his spidey powers for good as Spiderman and was traumatised due to the death of his uncle Ben. Later he ends up being possessed by a symbiote which results in him being more aggressive. While at first it was so cool seeing him stand up to Harry and Eddie for their misdeeds, he ended up being a f***ing arrogant bitch who was so egotistical and was shitty to everyone around him, including Gwen and Mary Jane and kept on playing the victim card to get what he wants. And what the hell was “Emo Peter”?

Darlene Alderson and Dominique Dipierro - Mr. Robot

For Domlene fans, keep in mind, I am not slandering their relationship or their own episode “Gone” where they got good endings by finding themselves and what they need to work on. But I gotta be honest about how their characters went before that episode throughout Season 4. Both Darlene and Dom started off as badass characters in their own right. The former was a foul mouthed no nonsense lovable rogue and the latter was an assertive and smart FBI agent assigned to solve the 5/9 hack by fsociety. In Season 3 they were shown to be dealing with a lot of issues at hand and tried to push through it. And when they find they had something in common, their relationship began to slowly flourish, but come the season 3 finale which did a complete 180 on them thanks to the Dark Army. In Season 4, Darlene ended up becoming their Damsel in Distress constantly where she keeps on getting captured or have a hit put out on her in order to get to Elliot and rely on him and Dom to save her and Dom ended up becoming a weak and submissive doormat for them after she got forced into being their mole (though it was pretty cool when she killed that asshole taxidermist). All I am saying is, yes, badass women can be vulnerable and stressed out but do it in a proper way where they don’t become damsels without fighting back (Darlene) or make them a doormat for the majority of the season (Dom).

Dexter Morgan - Dexter

Dexter Morgan is a serial killer who has a Dark Passenger bloodlust that makes him go after the scumbags who got away with their crimes. As the series progressed Dexter figured out that he may have been able to feel things, especially love for Rita, Debra and Harrison and stress when things are not going his way. But time and time again he ended being a bit to reckless and selfish in his actions and ended up having an unwanted romantic arc with Hannah McKay and dragged Debra down with him in his serial killer life, which resulted in her killing LaGuerta to cover up her brother’s misdeeds and later dying from a gunshot wound at the hands of Oliver Saxon. This later caused Dexter to abandon Hannah and Harrison and hide out in Oregon to become a lumberjack! Hallelujah for the reboot.

Cordelia Chase - Buffyverse

That one development which angered the Buffy fans. Cordelia Chase was one of the lead female characters of Buffy The Vampire Slayer and the female lead of the spin-off Angel. She was shown to be a confident and badass woman who at first was the queen bee but turned to a tough warrior in her own right. Sadly, due to J*ss Wh*don giving Charisma Carpenter a huge disproportionate retribution for getting pregnant, Cordelia was given a lot of horrible storylines. Like being sent to heaven and then returning to earth as a different person when she sleeps with her own teen son and does a lot of bizzare things and ultimately she is put in a coma off-screen. A true definition of wasting such a great character.

Ross and Monica Geller - Friends

Ross and Monica are siblings who are a bit competitive but still care about each other. Both of them had started off normal with their individual personalities. Ross being a paleontologist who just got out of a divorce and tries to pick himself back up and Monica is a perfectionist who is pressured to make things in control around her, possibly due to her mother making snide remarks at her in the past. But as the series progressed, both ended up getting flanderized in different ways. Ross ended up being too controlling of the women he dates and later his sad sack tendencies ended up playing up to 11 which made him look like a parody of himself and Monica went from a caring Team Mom to an outright competitive Alpha Bitch who had the need to control and compete at everything for the evulz. Like when she was Phoebe’s wedding planner, she went full on Chris Hargensen on her by organising things the way she wants it and not Phoebe’s, which frustated the latter to the point she rightfully fired her. But Monica was left so scorned that she decided to rain down hell upon Phoebe and humiliate her.

Daenerys Targaryen - Game Of Thrones

Finally we are here. Daenerys was a really badass character in Game of Thrones. She at first was a slave for her abusive older brother but then stood her ground and ended up becoming a fearless leader who wanted to save Westeros and protect it from the evil villains. She was kind to almost everyone and helped others around her. Not only that but she served as an inspiration for a lot of women and girls in real life. Sadly, Season 8 had drained her whole character down the toilet when she was put through a lot of trauma and losses which resulted in her snapping and burning down the entire King’s Landing which killed innocents and planned on taking control of Westeros with tyranny in mind. This eventually caused Jon to kill her in a really anti-climatic manner. This was a horrible example of putting a character through huge amounts of trauma and making them evil out of nowhere. She was not Arthur Fleck, y’all.

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love-patient-0s-writing-world · 4 years ago

Text

Thorns

Shuichi x Reader

Class: SFW

Word Count: 2k

CW: Hanahaki, blood, cursing/swearing, a few headcanons of mine about hanahaki slipped through, tiny bit of Kaede slander(sorry), jealousy, Harukaito, Ishimondo, talk of death,

Part: 1, 2(coming soon)

Note: Sorry this took so long! Life in general happened and this story got out of hand and a lot longer than expected, so I’m chopping it up into parts. Also please let me know if you’d like me to add something to the CW.

‘Stupid stupid stupid stupid stupid STUPID.....I’m so fucking stupid’ why did I have to fall for him of all people, the boy who very obviously likes someone else and that somebody else clearly reciprocates them; it’s only a matter of time until either of them confesses and then their perfect love story would start, it was destined to be.....so why did this have to happen? This horrible tight feeling in your chest, the cuts that were littered through out your esophagus and mouth, the awful myriad of vibrant rose petals and fully bloomed ones accompanied by their thorny stems which were stained pink with blood.

It all started when you lost your sweater, running around the school searching like a mad man for it. That’s when you quite literally ran into the poor detective, you two were in the same grade and shared a few classes, you even sat behind him in homeroom but never really talked outside of the usual formalities, that was understandable due to your somewhat questionable reputation; so maybe caging him beneath you in the middle of a hallway wasn’t the best outside of class introduction. You very quickly got off him apologizing profusely, when you saw his bright red face only one word came to mind ‘cute’. You helped him get off the ground, remembering about your missing sweater you decide to ask if he’s seen it. “Hey Shuichi, you wouldn’t have happened to see a (F/C) sweater anywhere have you?” he took a second to respond “No I haven’t seen one, sorry” “It’s ok don’t worry about it, besides I’m the one who lost it” trying to sound as reassuring as possible.

“Well...I better get back on the hunt-” but before you could say goodbye he interrupted you “I-I can help you look for it if you want?” “Well I guess having another pair of eyes isn’t bad, plus you’re the Ultimate Detective right?” “Y-yeah.” you started walking down the hallway without warning. He followed after you quickly like a lost puppy, both of you walk into various classrooms getting more and more disheartened when you didn’t find it. That’s when it hits you “I think I might know where it is. But you can’t tell anybody about where this place is, ok?” he looked rather hesitant but curiosity got the better of him “S-sure.” You waved for him to follow you and he did, as you walked towards the back of the school he started to get nervous “H-hey isn’t this the area where M-Mondo and his g-gang hang out in?” “Yes but there’s no need to worry...unless you need or want to leave then please feel free to go, you’ve already helped me a ton today.” You looked back at him with a reassuring smile “N-no...I’ll keep looking with you.” You just kept walking until you stopped in front of a door with the Crazy Diamonds logo on it, Shuichi just stared at the door with wide eyes. Before he could ask any questions you knocked on the metal door, a little window slides open “Heey (Y/N)!” “Heeey Ryuji!” but before he opened the door fully he saw Shuichi who was hiding behind you. “Who’s the runt?” “Don’t worry he’s with me.” you gently pulled him next to you. “...Alright, but he better not snitch.” “I made sure he wouldn’t.” You smlied at Ryuji as he opened the door to let you both in.

You leaned into him and whispered “Stay close.” he nodded and did just that. It was a rather large room with bikers and delinquents alike entertaining themselves, they had turned an abandoned storage area into a rather nice rec room. As the two of you walked towards the back of the room, you noticed how Shuichi was being jostled around. You snake an arm around his waist and pull him close to you “Sorry, but it wouldn’t be good if you got injured somehow because of me.” leaning in to whisper that in his ear, an extreme blush burned across his face “I-It’s ok.” You just tried to quicken the pace so you could let him go from your hold although for some reason you really didn’t want to. Once you reached the back you turned into a dark hallway with a door near the end, when you reached the door you knocked on it. He could hear shuffling from inside when all of a sudden the door swung open, causing him to jump a bit. Standing in front them was the Ultimate Biker Gang Leader, Mondo Owada “WHO THE FU-(Y/N)!?” his demeanor did a complete 180. The anger on his face melted off and his voice lost it’s gruffness “What are you doing here kid? You rarely ever come here after school.” before you could answer him, he looked over and saw Shuichi. He was shaking like a leaf when Mondo’s sharp gaze landed on him. “Who-” your arm was still wrapped around his waist, holding him close to you, this did not get past his sharp eyes “Heeeeyyyy! Did you come here to tell me that you finally got a piece of ass! Congrats kid!” he pat your shoulder as if you’d won an award. You stood there silent from shock, sure you thought Shuichi was incredibly smart and extremely pretty even while he turned into a tomato right next to you. Your grip around him subconsciously tightened, when you finally shook off the shock. You were about to correct him and ask if you left your sweater here, but as usual you were cut off.

“Hey! That’s a very unwholesome thing to say! Especially to underclassmen, we’ve got to be a good example to them!” Taka marched up to the door and stood next to Mondo his face resembled that of an angry disapproving mother. He looked over to you and Shuichi “Hello (Y/N)!” “Hey Taka.” he stuck his hand out towards Shuichi “You must be (Y/N)’s boyfriend! What’s your name, are you an ultimate as well?” Shuichi hesitantly shook his hand “Uhhh...m-my name is Sh-Shuichi Saihara, I’m the Ultimate D-Detective.” he was clearly nervous and didn’t want to possibly upset them by correcting their assumption, at least that’s what you thought with the way he leaned further into you. Mondo started to chuckle a bit “Wow kid you’re more like me than I thought.” “What do you mean?” quirking an eyebrow at him “We’re both delinquents and are dating a goody two shoes.” “We’re not date-ing!” your voice cracked hard but you continued anyways “We’re just friends.” Mondo stared at you a bit before chuckling again the smile on his face getting bigger “Ahhhh I get it friends” you just sighed in defeat as the biker wiggled his eyebrows at the two of you.

Taka cleared his throat getting everyone’s attention “Anyways, (Y/N) what did you come here for?” by the sounds of it he already knew why you showed up. “I came to ask if I left my swea-” “Yes you did in fact leave your sweater here.” you could practically feel the lecture coming. He walked into the room and returned shortly, with a neatly folded (F/C) sweater in hand “You really shouldn’t forget your sweater, what if you or your...friend was freezing, you could’ve caught a cold!” ‘Wow he doesn’t believe me either’ snatching your sweater away from him “I know, I know” letting out a small sigh ‘finally I can leave’. “Alright we’re going to leave now!” “Alright kiddo! I’m sure you and your friend will have lots of fun together!” you started to walk away faster with Shuich still glued to your side. When you both were out of earshot Mondo slung his arm around Taka “How come every relationship that’s with an ultimate detective is kept secret?”

You quickly walked towards the exit before anyone else could embarrass you even further. Pushing open the slightly heavy metal door you said a quick ‘bye’ to Ryuji, as soon as the door slammed closed behind you, you let out a sigh of relief. Shuichi was obviously tense but as you let out the soft sigh he relaxed significantly into your side, to an outsider it would’ve looked like you two really were a...couple. ‘OH SHIT MY ARM IS STILL AROUND HIM’ you had to coax the limb into letting go of him especially with the way he had melted into you. It must have taken him a moment to realize that he was no longer in your arms, he took a large step to the side his cheeks flushed pink “S-sorry!” “It’s fine, no need to apologize.” giving him a soft smile. You took a few steps forward hinting at him to follow you and he did, quickly standing by your side again as you brought him back to the ‘safer’ area of the school. “So...uhmm how do you know Mondo” “That’s a looong story....but you don’t need to worry about him” you got close to him and whispered “he’s actually a huge softie once you get to know him.” Giggling when you remembered how the big bad biker started crying over a small stray puppy. His cheeks were a light pink when you looked back at him a small smile ghosting his face, ‘UGH he’s too cute I just wannna scoop him up and...NO, NO I DON’T’ scolding yourself mentally for thinking of something like that, Mondo must have really messed with your mind when he kept talking about dating.

You sighed as you continued on autopilot to the front of the school, somehow forgetting the subject of your VERY UNTRUE thoughts was walking right alongside you. Feeling the cool breeze on your skin made a shiver run down your spine, so you put on the sweater that caused you so much of hastle today. As you slipped it on a soft voice snapped you back into reality “(Y-Y/N)....” “Mhm?” Your eyes drifted over to the fidgeting boy next to you, while straightening out the sweater. You stared at him as he seemed to plan out his words carefully, he’d open his mouth only to close it again, it was actually kinda cute...’AAAAHHH WHY DO I KEEP THINKING LIKE THIS!’ you wanted to slam your head into the concrete wall that surrounded the school. He took a deep breath and let it out with a sigh, effectively grabbing your attention. “A-are you heading h-home?” his voice got quieter ‘Huh?’ “Yeah.” ‘So that’s what he was so nervous to ask?’ You thought to yourself for a moment after seeing his what seems permanently tinted cheeks and shy smile, looking away from him to get an unbiased answer ‘Should I...no this is just a one time thing, I shouldn’t get attached to him.’ You turned back to the blushing boy “Well...I gotta go home, thank you for all your help today Shuichi.” a sweet smile on your face “N-no problem.” You started your walk home but before you stepped out onto the sidewalk you turned around and waved him goodbye, he waved back.

Now it was back to your ordinary life, popping in your earbuds as you made your way back home. When you reached it you opened the door to the almost always empty house, you plopped your bag and stared at the books peaking out cringing a bit at all the homework you need to complete. ‘Well at least I just have one more day until the weekend’ letting out a sigh as you grab the needed books and notebooks to start, it was surprisingly easy so when you finally finished it you went about your usual routine until you decided to crawl into bed. You stared at the ceiling thinking about what exactly happened today, you could feel your heartbeat quicken as his flushed face and soft smile appeared in your brain, instead of shaking it out of your mind you let yourself indulge in the thoughts as you drifted off to sleep; cuddling into one of your plush pillows with a sleepy smile on your face.

I really hope you enjoyed reading this! Apologies for not posting much writing but that is soon to change! Remember to drink water, eat something and get plenty of rest! Feel free to return whenever you want traveler, take care!💜

~Love Patient 0

#🌹x reader rose🌹#shuichi saihara x reader #shuichi x reader #danganronpa killing harmony #killing harmony #ndrv3 #drv3 #ndrv3 shuichi #shuichi saihara #shuichi #hanahaki

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dysfunctionalcrab · 4 years ago

Note

i absolutely will not stand for anonymous anon slandert=ing themselves

u are a very very cool anon

u r AMAZING *french kiss*

-🐷

ABSOLUTELY NO anonymous anon slander here please i will KILL U /hj

#niss’s anons #🐷anon #niss talks

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englass · 5 years ago

Text

The Hand That Feeds

Pairing(s): Joseph Seed & A Monster (???)

Warning(s): Blood, Dead Bodies, Suspence, Horror(?), Supernatural Elements.

Word Count: 5,961

A/N(s): This was originally supposed to be a Halloween fic, but I didn’t get it out in time and got caught up doing other stuff; so... I’m posting it now instead 😅Also! Happy Birthday @seedlingsinner !!!!! 🥳🎉🎂💖 I’m really sorry I didn’t write anything for you, but I hope this makes up for it, hun!! 😬💖💖💖💖💖

- - -

There is a crisp chill in the air, a teasing nip that plays between the trees in the early hours of the morning. The mountains shrouded by an ominous stillness, an aching anticipation that casts a withering glance over the flora, and pressurises the fauna into a tight silence. The autumn moon is unusually bright, a golden glow of cold warmth that beckons monsters from the shadows of towering trees. With painted grins and wisps of midnight, dancing to haunted tunes in the wind’s quiet breath, they writhe from below in a giddily, twisted greeting.

Skittish deer tread with a hurried caution, eager and wary of the new danger that has sidled into the already tense County with salivating maws. Rabbits and foxes scurry urgently into their respective burrows, praying with flicking ears and twitching noses that they will be spared this night’s patrol. Grizzled bears of mighty stature and shortened tempers do not so much as huff into the chilling air, vanishing into the back of rocky dens with a respectful fear.

Even the Judges, rabid wolves fused and mangled by twisted drugs, nature’s noble guard turned traitorous war-machine, whimper and cower behind the bars of their cages. Their distant eyes are blown wide, torn ears pulled as flat as they can go against their heads in a pleading submission; looking like abused puppies waiting for the next beating.

Members of the resident cult which created the canid abominations look on with a perturbed curiosity, glancing to their peers in muted question. Even the prisoners housed in their own separate cells, getting what little rest they can while apprehensively awaiting their fateful turn at the infamous trails, grip the cool bars with sweaty palms and flickering gazes. One cult member clangs a metal pipe against one of the cages, snarling at the once fearsome canines to shut up.

They merely ignore them.

With a sudden bellow the wind wails, pained and ailed with a sound unlike any other chasing its current. The Judges tuck together tightly, bundling into corners with a flurry of frenzied whines and whimpers. Each huddling over the other in a vain attempt to distance themselves from the harrowed sound – distant and near, everywhere and nowhere – that swallows the County in a foreboding fever.

The wide and open plains of the valley, stretching for miles upon miles in a wide and grand gesture, shrinks in on itself; claustrophobic and vulnerable. The rivers and winding terrain of the Henbane bares no better. The water that weaves by with a joyful wave now slowing to a jolted crawl, hesitant to risk even the slightest brush against the darkened shore’s edges. Even the areas and creatures blessed by corruption, poisoned by a blissful chemical that ravages all it touches, pause in their homely madness to listen in on the warning cry with a fleeting lucidity.

Those still awake, soldiers and leaders on both fronts of the County’s civil war, also stop to listen in on the howl. Turning to the distance and their respective peers with tight expressions. Old superstitions, creeping like folkloric monsters, taking centre stage at the forefront of their whirring minds.

Yet, not all are concerned by such worries; their beliefs an impractical shield against the unknown, and the unholy that stalk its shade.

Although the local cult’s oldest founder may stand tall, rifle posed at his side as he scouts his given territory with a critical and cautious eye, and the youngest may tuck himself safely away within the walls of his rustic home with taboo comforts, the middle and ruling founder does neither. Fearless amongst the whispers that kiss across the trees, cold warnings foolishly unheeded, as he travels through the thick woodland with a cool resolve. A wheelbarrow covered by a stained and dirty tarp, filled with a caring offering, pushed steadily along in front of him; creaking over flimsy sticks and dying leaves.

Other than his own steps and the subtle squeal of the wheelbarrow’s wheel, the silence hangs like a swinging body. The chilling atmosphere wound tight into a strangling hold that refuses to let up, only tightening the more you seek to escape it. Not that the prophet, Joseph, does so. Instead, he only walks deeper into the thicket. Gaze hardly wavering as blinking dashes of light turn and watch with open jaws, following with whispering breaths until he eventually comes to a small clearing. The moon’s golden shine a halo that bars the woodland’s shadows, holding them at bay.

It is a mere break in the tree line, nothing overly noteworthy about it; other than the turned over grass and what appears to be torn fabric abandoned near the centre. An odd shimmer, reflective of light touching liquid, faintly catches on the ruined blades of grass in speckled sparkles everytime the prophet moves even the slightest amount. Stains of an unknown colour painting the destroyed fabric in dark, but faded streaks. Splatterings reminiscent of a child flinging a drowning paintbrush on the remains of what might have been someone’s clothing; buttons pulled from their stitchings, and what looks to be some sort of a badge or branding now muddied and frayed with time.

Joseph does not attempt to make the latter out.

The charismatic leader, unaware of the tension that prowls the woodland just as menacingly as the monsters that inhabit it, comes to a stop just short of the centre of the clearing. His gem blue eyes staring blankly down at the shredded clothing before turning to the tarp-covered wheelbarrow; his hands relenting in his firm grip to fall at his sides, straightening himself. Ominously the moon casts a blinding glare across the preacher’s tinted glasses, blanketing his expression in an unreadable mask, as he reaches to grip the tarp and, with a flourish, yank it off and behind him.

There is a stuttered breeze, a shaky breath that rustles the leaves like a haunted windchime; ting-ing around the clearing like a ceremonial bell. The unseen occupants at the edges of the woodland, hidden behind and between the spindly trees that seem to stretch on forever, hissing a hungry appreciation at the meal that has been so graciously put on display before them. A silver service so grand and appetising that the saliva runs like a fetid stream; a banquet worthy of the darkest of creatures.

Three bodies, bent and blanched and broken, make their home in the bloodied wheelbarrow, a small bath of coagulated blood pooling at the base. Tough flesh and stiffened muscle the main course in this disturbing meal. The clothing, though now soiled and damp, still hugs what remains of the unfortunate souls that have become this night’s offering. The banner in which they fell under, be it Resistance or Eden’s Gate, bearing no deterrents while under judgement.

Joseph’s expression remains unchanged, unbothered by the deceased members of, not only the opposing Resistance but, of his own following. Two of the three that make up this crude dish found to be unworthy in their fickle devotion to the Project; and in turn to the love of the Father. It is a pity, truly, but such shaken resolves’ have no place within their community; their sins a disease that does nothing but spread the fear of doubt. Converts the worthy into instruments of slander and distrust. In their case, such a disease had only one cure.

Yet, their departure is not a vain one. For although they were found to be unworthy in life their deaths do hold a semblance of worth in the nourishment their bodies may provide; a suitable meal for the unholy abomination that roams the County with a silent footfall. A consuming fury left in Its wrathful wake, devastating in Its own divinity, and monstrous in the horrowed tales that follow It in murmured tellings. A might and ferocity that is never seen, but only heard of. A legend that might not quite be a legend.

With a weighty exhale Joseph steps back, grass bending under foot with a distant sound; suffocated by the tension that lines the clearing and waits with a bated breath. Anticipation mounting as the shadows edge a little closer, jaws opening wider in crooked smiles as they gradually reach out from between the trees with raw-boned claws toward the slowly retreating preacher. Unassuming as their firefly eyes glow a misleading white between the creaking limbs of the living woodland; safe and beckoning. A tempting refuge to be found within the widely dilated, and giddily ravenous confines, of their eternal hunger. A special kind of purgatory for the lost and unwanted in this forsaken land.

If only he would step a little closer...

A sharp cry slashes through the County, tearing up the air with a brutal shriek that has its denizens – mortal and otherwise alike – pausing with stilted breaths. A high and wailed noise that has hunters spinning with raised guns and dancing eyes, animals cowering with frantic whines and thundering hearts, and the shadows that haughtily prowl these fiendish nights shrivelling in on themselves with drying maws and sharply constricting eye-lights. A paranoid worry urging the unknown into a testing submission.

There are bigger monsters than them in this County, after all.

Joseph stands by the border within the clearing, still and tense; just out of reach from the once greedy claws that were so eager to grab a hold of him. Swallowing thickly the preacher feels himself trembling, nerves vibrating rapidly as fear rushes through his bloodstream like a drug. His eyes planted across from him to watch as the shadows move and undulate, crawling away as a high pitched hiss drags across bark with lazy talons. Snapping twigs and crunching leaves a toll that has the creatures already here backing down with hanging heads and fleeing forms.

With his form trembling, fingers twitching from the chill that has taken him, Joseph steels himself. A quick inhale held as his hands loosen and then ball into tight fists, nails biting into his palm as he steadies himself; resolute. There is no need for him to be afraid after all. He has faith, and with it he knows that they will not hurt him. Despite how instinct may scream otherwise.

There is a deathly silence that has taken over. Blanketing the clearing with a spider’s web of pressure that is not so easily levied. Joseph watches as a silhouette, darker than the shadows that followed him here, begins to take shape between the trees. A hulking creature that makes neary a sound as It slowly comes closer. Stopping just before the moon’s luminescent glow can touch It, barely grazing through the shade that the towering trees see fit to veil It under.

The shadows that have not quite left, hungry for the vicious slaughter that is no doubt about to take place, sway with a non-existent breeze. Antsy in this unexpected turn as time passes by like a dying man; agonisingly slow.

Although the tension is high, the autumn air nippy, and ultimately with his life potentially on the line, Joseph smiles softly at the hidden creature. Head tilting curiously as he regards Its shielded form with a kind eye. Anxiety abandoned as he dons his given mantle, reaching out with a tender tone and parental patience as he gently starts to speak to It; a long time coming.

“My child…” he murmurs with an edge of delirious awe, “you’re here. I must admit, I grew worried when you didn’t turn up the last time I was here. I feared the worst.” There is a heavy, but slow breath; a hiss of air as the creature shifts. Joseph knows It is watching him, and his smile gets a little wider. “Please,” he gestures loosely, carefully, “I know you must be hungry. There is no shame in what you must do, just as there is no shame in what I must do. There is no judgment between us, for it is all a part of God’s will, of his great and divine plan. And who am I to deny such a calling?

“So please, won’t you come and eat? Won’t you let me see you…?”

Another dragging hiss, low and gravelled, crawls across the clearing. A monster in itself as the night’s chill creeps a little closer, brushing bone as its caress slips past and under the skin in venturing touches. There is a subtle clicking layered under the serpentine sound. Intermingled between the throaty rumbles that claw to the surface when Its hiss is pitched too low, bordering too close to an actual growl; a warning without words.

For a fleeting second the preacher entertains the idea of walking up to It, coaxing It out of the darkness and into this fulfilling night with hands outstretched; open and accepting. Ideally it would be a beautiful and symbolic moment. A true exchange of understanding as he made a step toward saving this poor creature from Its damnation. However, the reality of such an action would be far more gruesome.

Joseph may be hopeful, a little naive when under the presence of his unwavering faith, but he is not a fool. A monster is still a monster, just like a sinner is still a sinner. It is all a matter of control. Of owning your sins and resisting the temptations that call to them with domineering appetites. It is about management and acceptance, pledging to be better than the sins that make a slave of you. At least, that is what Joseph tries to teach.

Instinct, in theory, is not all that dissimilar. With enough time and patience, the right incentives, even the most terrible of creatures can be tempered and made to heel. His older brother’s pet wolves are an example of that. Yet, natural instinct is still a very different beast to conscious sin. Such things are harder to correct and manage with a feral mind, after all.

Thankfully They are not as feral as others may first believe them to be.

There is another rumbling breath, heavy with a buried rattle, before the creature moves; slow and almost cautionary in Its approach. The moon’s ethereal touch gradually urging the creature into its warm glow, and finally into Joseph’s sight. His breath hitching at the ivory snout that emerges from the shadows that cling to It so lovingly. Possessive in their hold as their tendrils are pried away to reveal an open jaw with bared fangs and cleanly picked bone; Its eyes empty save for the sentient abyss that calls Its sockets home.

A menacing hand, clawed and gangly, slips through the darkened tree line and into the light. Gripping onto the nearest tree as if to pull Itself free, digging into the bark with a sudden splinter, as Its other hand tears across and into an opposing tree. Holding Itself up between the two of them with a guttural sound as Its skeletal head hangs to the side; bowed, but not submissive.

The captured preacher watches as Its jaw opens a little more. A puff of cold air huffing from the chasm of Its maw, before Its claws loosen in their crushing hold on the trees; the creature’s hands languidly sliding down the scratched bark It has abused in order to rest on the grass beneath It. For a few tense seconds It holds there. Head turned to the side, still watching the prophet with voided sockets, before it moves again; stalking slow and low out into the clearing. Taking Its time as Its skinny, but large, body fully emerges from the surrounding forestry. Shadows desperately stretching as if to pull It back; to tempt It home into their fervid embrace. It ignores them. Non-existent eyes piercing through the pious fanatic that stands so bravenly before It. Creeping ever closer with a building swab of saliva drooling from between the gaps in Its bared teeth.

Its hands drag with every step, knuckles brushing the ground as Its claws curl into Its palm. A sway in Its prowl, skull rolling with Its smooth, but heavy movements. Unconcerned as It treads across tattered clothing, barely tilting Its head in acknowledgment, as Its quadrupedal form comes to a measured stop beside the prophet’s gift. Another puff of cold air once more bleeding between the gaps in Its teeth.

From the original distance held between them, to nearly beside him, Joseph had forgotten just how large the creature was. Its head, ducked but no doubt looking up at him despite their lack of conventual eyes, comes up to about his chest. Its body tucked under Itself in a hunch that makes Its movement look unnatural. It’s appearance weak and feeble looking; submissive and uncomfortably awkward. It is a great deception that Its sedated pace only seems to strengthen.

The black quill-like feathers on the back of Its neck, iridescent like a magpie’s under the shifting glow of the moon, raise much like the heckles of a dog. Standing on end as they vibrate, shimmying to create a rustling sound. It mimics the shake of blowing leaves in windy weather, or even the threatening rattle of an angered snake’s tail, as Its head finally turns to regard the preacher head on; the chasm of Its nose as dark and absorbing as the sockets of Its empty eyes.

With the same cautious and measured movements that brought It here, the creature raises a gangly hand. It brushes the side of the wheelbarrow, the side of Its boney limb sliding up against the metal, until Its hand reaches the rim; fingers flexing curiously when they are met with open air, before curling steadily over it. Using the wheelbarrow as leverage as It pulls Itself up onto Its hind legs. The wheelbarrow tipping just slightly under the weight, as It looms hauntingly over the preacher. Stepping closer until Its free hand comes to grab Joseph’s nearest wrist; Its thin hand taking up near enough all of his forearm, as It bends Its head down towards him.

Despite the doubt that gnaws worriedly at him, poisonous and dangerous, Joseph does not move. Letting the creature hold his arm as Its cold skull presses into his shoulder, rubbing and nudging against him in an affectionate looking display. A strange move when compared to the monster that had stalked towards him so hungrily not mere minutes ago.

Admittedly, the prophet once more has the urge to touch the beguiling creature; to reach out to It with a loving embrace that promises the salvation that Joseph so desperately wants to give It. Yet, this sweet display is a trap that Joseph dare not be baited into. A devil's trick to test and judge him; just as he judges those he feeds to It.

Unhurriedly the creature continues in Its presses, dipping lower to press higher; turning and pushing, sliding up under his chin– Joseph freezes, his heart skipping in its rhythmic beat as his throat tightens under a harsh swallow. Sweat beading down his face and into his beard, as Its mouth fits snugly around his neck. Moving closer until It cannot unhinge Its jaw any further. Teeth grazing tormentingly against Joseph’s jugular as It hisses frostily; stringy saliva dribbling onto Joseph’s shirt, dampening it coldly against the bare skin beneath.

To his credit the preacher does not jolt, nor does he even make an attempt to escape the creature’s hold, despite how much fear and the instinct it adheres to tell him otherwise. Instead he allows It to breathe against him. Goosebumps pebbling his skin in response to the unnatural chill that bleeds from It; a dry bite of winter dread in the impassioned throws of a summer worry. All of Joseph’s restraint going into being as still and non-threatening as possible; submissive and pliable in the void of this creature’s lost eyes.

It’d be more than unfortunate to fall at such a momentous interaction, after all. To perish while his divinely given duty lay incomplete, and this unfortunate creature is left to remain eternally condemned.

Besides, Joseph knows – just as surely as he knows the voice of his Lord – that their hold is not a malevolent one; only acting out as a warning and display to the dangers that such a monstrous form can inflict when pressed and tested. Reacting to the instincts that drive them in the name of self-preservation and survival; to the hunger that beckons them like a lustful siren on the shores of eldritch planes. Too tempting to ignore the allure, despite the frenzy that will blanket and consume them once they get a taste.

Yet, they do not succumb. Even as the foolish preacher mindlessly raises his hand to touch the chilled ivory of the creature’s skull – Its breath stopping to mimic the sudden stillness of the air around them; the wilderness frozen in a tense moment of paralysing alarm – It does not listen to the urges that surely compel It.

It merely stands, with Joseph in Its hold, as the shadows rear up among the trees with wide firefly eyes; pale lights warbling like the flame from a melting candle in the darkest of hours. Eager and famished and slobbering at the remains this creature among monsters will surely leave for them, these unknown vultures of the dark; unseen but forever lurking in the blood of cursed moralities and haunted existences. Horrors alive in the eyes of maddened minds.

The victims of such horrors however, do not appreciate their stalkers’ voyeurism; nor their displays of such corrosive loyalty (eternal as the void and just as consuming).

There is a low rumble, a rise of something thick and tangibly raw; an emotion painted with threatening strokes and wounded lines. The creature’s feathers raising lazily with the sound, vibrating as they start to stand on end; their rustling getting louder and louder and quicker and quicker the higher they rise. The rumbling getting deeper and deeper along with them. A low base that begins to thump like a raging pulse through the earth and Its skull; Joseph’s own hand and arm quivering under the vibrations. The creature puffing heavily against the preacher’s exposed throat as if Wrath itself was the one upon him; breathing pure rage into his skin and around his neck. A noose fashioned by carnage and a trembling maw of teeth.

A noose that when dropped-

It snaps. Teeth scraping against each other – sharp like cutlery squealing against a plate – as It tears away. Barely catching the skin of Joseph’s neck as the creature throws Its head high, back arching as It shrieks around a strangled, weezing roar; cuttingly pained and excruciating. Claws nicking at Joseph’s arm as It pulls away from him, holding Its head tightly as It screams up at the heavens; bone screeching on bone as It grips and rips at skin that isn’t there.

Shadows quickly falling silent as It turns Its wrath upon them, sockets blazing with a bitter hatred that defies understanding – a deep resentment that only It grasps and battles with; hidden demons thrashing recklessly beneath Its skin – as Its head lashes back and forth around the woodland that surrounds them. Screaming at all that lurk within the tangled limbs of the labyrinthian woodland. Hand suddenly striking out at the forgotten wheelbarrow, claws swiping savagely at the metal – blades squealing against pipes – as it is knocked to the ground; bodies tumbling onto the turned-over soil as the blood spills like a shattered bowl of sauce.

All the while It shrieks. Volume gradually dying as It starts to slump from Its imposing height. Falling back onto Its hunches, curling into Itself like the feeble creature It pretends to be, with a sighing wheeze of a hiss; the sound tired, but layered above a throaty rumble. Another warning to the shadows that stand by like overzealous spectators. Hands returning to cradle Its skull, claws catching in the dip of Its sockets as It stares off daringly into the silenced night; at the audience that watches them with captured breaths.

Their roar of applause is nothing more than a quiet whimper.

And the preacher does not fair much better.

Hesitantly, with a quaking hand, Joseph touches where their teeth had grazed. Fingers brushing weakly over the same space that the creature’s mouth had been not even a moment ago. Swallowing thickly as a shudder runs down his spine; the chill of their skull still lingering on his palm, the swift terror of their explosive outburst still coursing through his blood, the sheer anguish in their fractured scream still ringing in his ears; so pained and lost and scared…

Like a child. A child unaccustomed to the brutality of their own emotions, ignorant to the dominance it can hold over even the most placid of souls; lashing out. Blinded by a lack of control – instinct taking over – until the rage fades into a hollowed chasm, filled with a ravaging regret and a damning despair.

A guilty conscious at play; even when there is nothing to feel guilty of.

Joseph understands, though. They are merely misunderstood. Lost within the clutches of this gluttonous curse, unable to escape its tangled coils despite how much they may struggle. Desperately in need of aid and righteous guidance in order to free themselves from this voracious disease; and Joseph can help them with that. He is the only one that can help them with that.

Yet, even so, the reality of such a close encounter, as sudden and aggressive as it was, leaves Joseph feeling uncharacteristically weak and fragile; disturbingly human. Once so untouchable, so sure and steadfast when stood upon his given pedestal; resolute when challenged by the non-believers and unflinching when creating examples out of the Judas' of their community, now left to tremble and face the adversary to his morality. Alone, once again, in a cruel and uncaring world; at the mercy of a wild society, ruled by monsters, fighting for their place within the highrises of the food-chain. A constant game and battle that his brother John knows better than most.

He pauses at that. Watching as the creature ducks away from him, retreating until It turns to slowly grip and lean over the abused wheelbarrow; snuffling suspiciously at the discarded bodies as It stains Its ivory snout in specks of brownish-red. Its random tantrum cast aside and forgiven, excused by the narrative that Joseph spins and weaves and convinces himself to believe in. His assumptions made fact under the weight of his conviction and justification.

The thought of his brother however, of both his siblings and his followers – of his family – is a lingering one; as persistent and gripping as an emotion. He had never considered the possibility of things going awry; of him never returning to any of them again. So unwaveringly confident in the plans whispered to him, in the bright and sin-free future promised to him and his brothers. Joseph had never considered the torture his departure would surely cause them, the questions he would leave behind if that close encounter moments ago had ended differently.

After all, he never tells them of his late night wanderings; never tells them about the many exchanges he has under innocuous starlight. Just like he has never told them of his secret meetings with their biggest opposer. Of their time spent in silent comforts and comfortable silences, their once tense encounters turned soft and rueful under their mutual truce. His beloved Deputy, a beautiful and misguided soul for him and him alone to save. A sweet secret shared only between him and himself; their vulnerability his to protect, their honesty his to cherish, their soul his to love and possess; just as much as his is theirs.

They may not even realise it yet, may not see the grander picture at play, the interwoven future those small moments are creating for them, but it is there. It is as real as his congregation. As real as the night’s cold and disgruntled nip. As real as the creature appraising his gifted offering with an open jaw; a low clicking purring in Its throat like mumbled words.

Joseph loves his brothers, dearly so, and without a doubt would do absolutely anything for them. However, it would seem that there are some secrets that are worth keeping. Despite the dangers that may come with them.

Joseph truly is a selfish man.

With a fresh hesitancy in his heart, his unfaltering faith giving leeway under his rattled confidence, the prophet takes a step forward. The crunch of grass and scuff of dirt unmistakably loud in the empty clearing; the wind nothing more than a ghostly breath.

The once eager audience, so hungry for the thrill that only a raw kill can bring, salivating over the temptation of such savagery and bloodshed, are nowhere in sight. Forced back into the deepest confines of a tormented mind. Suppressed by a shaking will desperate to hold on to at least a semblance of its true self. The instinctual compulsion that they invoke, that they are, temporarily silenced by their unwilling host; a cursed mortality haunted by demons that only It can see.

Languidly, not even acknowledging the approaching preacher, the creature reaches out to curl Its boney fingers around one of the dead cultist’s arms. Unhurriedly dragging it until the body is almost beneath them. Shifting to hunch over the body as drool begins to wet Its teeth, head lightly swinging as if looking from one spot to another; quietly deciding which part to start with first. Its head stills in the movement however once It notices the bare arm still in Its loosened hold, covered with religious tattoos and crudely branded scars.

There is a brief rumble, a deep purr misconstrued as a thoughtful hum, when Joseph comes to a halt beside the creature. The sound fading into an uneasy silence as the preacher grows apprehensive. The impulse to touch Them once more rearing its head with a newfound itch; a scratching want to try again. One that the prophet debates internally for nary a minute, before he makes his decision.

Cautiously, with residual fears speaking up with whispered warnings, Joseph places his hand upon the creature’s skull yet again; fingers trailing smoothly along the groves and indents to spread flat across Its ivory bone. The creature holds still at the touch; Its exposed jaw twitching ever so slightly as a familiar clicking sound starts up again. Too high pitched to merely come from the knocking of bared teeth against one another, and more on par with the rapid clicking of one's tongue. Although, oddly more guttural. As if it were an actual vocalisation and not a manufactured sound; a natural means of communication.

Gently the prophet’s digits curl against the bone, brushing it softly as he starts to straighten them. Repeating the motion to lightly scratch at the creature’s head like one might a beloved pet; a small display of affection and offered forgiveness.

With a few more clicks, tapped out between the fangs of an open maw, the creature’s head lowers; Joseph’s hand never breaking contact as he runs it up and through the creature’s iridescent plumage. Entranced by the shimmer in Its dark feathers between his fingers, as It slips Its jaws around the stiff arm in Its hold. Teeth pressing down, coming together until the bones begin to bend and struggle; gradually starting to splinter and snap under the pressure. A faint pink staining the pale bone of Its teeth as It tears through the rigid flesh; squished and stripped away as the creature starts to bite and pull and chew at the toughened muscle. Curiously gentle, despite Its earlier aggression.

“That’s it,” Joseph praises quietly. “That’s it, my child. It’s okay. You are safe here, you are safe with me. There is nothing to fear, for you know I do not judge you. I would never judge you. I know you are merely misunderstood, that you are here for a reason. What that reason is, I do not know for certain. But, what I do know is that there is no shame in this. There is no shame to be found in this consumption. You are doing us a service, you are doing me a service, and that should be thanked and celebrated…”

All the while Joseph strokes the creature. Hand petting and running through Their pretty feathers as the other comes up to bury itself beneath Their charcoal fur. Continuing to soothe the creature with silent words of praise, religious devotion, and the quiet hum of his favoured song. Watching with a passive smile as the creature starts to feast on his offering. On the corpses of those proven unworthy in the eyes of his Lord; dirty lambs from both his own family and the Resistance’s.

With the squelching of flesh and sharp crack of bone, guttural rumbles growling contently through the clearing, the self proclaimed Father glances to the side; gaze drawn to an unusual glimmer that he had not noticed before. Concealed by the torn scraps of clothing that rest like forgotten memories, not even a couple of steps away from him. Joseph had thought nothing much of the shredded material when he had first entered the area, paying it only a few lines of acknowledgment and nothing more; but now that his priority is accounted for and fed, the preacher finds himself paying it a bit more mind. And, interestingly enough, there is something about the clothing that sparks a feeling of recognition in him.

With his hands still affectionately petting at the creature, never pulling away, Joseph walks around Them to come closer to the ruined uniform; its olive green colouration blending in well with the turned-over grass and dirt. The origins of the unusual shine that had caught his eye finally becoming more noticeable and distinctive the closer he gets: a lone feather, dark as the abyss, but prismatic under the moon’s hallowed glow, innocently peeking out from underneath the dirtied fabric; its familiar shimmer bringing a soft frown to the preacher’s face the longer he looks at it. His hands falling away from the creature as he takes a tentative step towards the aged and shredded clothing.

It is then that Joseph notices a muddied name badge. Discoloured from the rest of the uniform, but still visible despite the fraying material and the stains that decorate it. The stitched lettering intact and surprisingly legible.

The preacher’s eyes go wide at the sight. Mouth opening slightly as he reads over the name on the badge. Quickly frowning before he turns to his monstrous companion, who is already looking at him. Instead of the shock that should strike him in that moment, the unbelievable and possible horror that should grip and keep him away from Them, Joseph instead walks towards Them. Hands arrogantly reaching out to take Their head into his palms. Fingers curling around Their lower jaw as he coaxes Them closer towards him; allowing the prophet to press his forehead against the bridge of Their snout.

The creature’s characteristic clicking starts up again, quietly and questioningly, at the action.

“My child, this truly is a day to be celebrated,” Joseph starts with a breathless quality. “To think that you would bless me with such a gift. That you would choose such a time as now to reveal yourself to me. To reveal your true self to me…” The prophet trails off with an airy chuckle, gently shaking his head; rubbing it absently against Their own. “I cannot quite believe it. My dear child, my sweet misunderstood creature…”

“My darling, darling Rook.”

#i'm biased #i don't like my writing #i feel super self conscious about it right now #hopefully it's not as bad as i think it is #also #i hate dialogue #it's the bane of my existence #fanfic #fanfiction #my writing #joseph seed #far cry joseph #joseph seed x oc #far cry 5 #fc5 #far cry #suspense

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