#it's a little of. becoming what you hated the most | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

reikafanfic · 20 hours ago

Text

Random Nsfw Head Canons For Riize Maknae line (with Fem!Reader)

( Includes: Seunghan, Sohee and Anton )

Again, there will be so many typos in this so get ready, I didn't proof read this at all.

Also hanis section might not be the best because I got into riize after they put him on hiatus (I hate sm so bad don't get me started) and I have a hard time getting a read on him but I tried

Hyung line, Maknae line

♡ ♡ Seunghan ♡ ♡

I had a hard time getting a read on him at first because he's such a cutie (he doesn't deserve half the shit that he gets OT6 WHEN I CATCH YOOUUUU-)

But honestly after thinking about it a little bit...this man is a undercover freak, HEAR ME OUT

The type of guy to finger you under the table when you're out with friends, smiling and chatting it up with everybody as if he isn't knuckles deep inside you.

He's so sweet too, calling you "his girl" and talking about how happy he is with you as you're struggling to not make any sounds.

That's his entire thing, he'll tease you and be so so mean but he'll do it with the sweetest smile on his face.

I would consider him a strict soft dom, If you're a good girl he'll treat you like a princess, praise you day and night but if you start getting bratty with him, he'll get so mean (in a fun way 🤭)

You bent over as he's fucking you from the back, your face buried in the pillow so you can't beg for his forgiveness whenever he slaps your ass.

"Awe are you trying to say something baby? I can't hear you sweetheart"

Also a bit sadistic, loves leaving marks on you, especially ones that last for days.

Seeing you wince whenever you sit down after he spanks you gets him so hard, literally ready to go for round two right then and there.

As much as he loves when he gets to punish the brat out of you, he also loves when you're his good little girl.

It's been said before but this man is a EATER, if you behave you get your pussy ate till your brain melts out your ears.

His aftercare mainly consists of him putting on ointment where you need it and making sure you're okay, since he's the Dom it's catered to what would make you feel the best.

At your beck and call after sex, the sweetest man alive.

SIGH I MISS MY MAN

♡ ♡ Sohee ♡ ♡

Virgin loser. IM SO SORRY HSHA

I'm a loser!Sohee truther, this man hasn't been near a pussy his entire life, gets absolutely no play.

He's always been too nervous too approach women and when he started training to become an idol he just didn't have the time.

So when he meets you he's all nerves, too shy to say anything, so you'll have to be the ones to initiate things.

Probably the most submissive out of Riize mainly because he's inexperienced and more comfortable with you taking the ropes.

Cums way too fast the first few times you two do it, is super embarrassed about it but he can't help it :(

"shit- sorry- it just.... you...you feel so good I'm so sorry"

Because of that he insists he wants to learn other ways on how to please you, whether that's oral or through his hands.

In the beginning of your relationship he's kinda sloppy but what he lacks in experience he makes up for with enthusiasm.

After learning and practicing a whole bunch I honestly think he has the best head game in Riize, he lives to please.

Same with his fingers, because he has a hard time lasting during sex he got really good at basically everything else so don't worry, you'll definitely leave the experience satisfied.

Also probably the most vanilla in Riize, you're his first and he's still figuring out the ropes, definitely wouldn't be into BDSM.

Maybe over time after you've been together a while but for the time being he's more than happy with missionary.

He does eventually get over his cumming too quickly problem but he's almost disappointed, he kinda liked the humiliation. 🤭

Aftercare is more of a joint activity with him, prefers to both take care of you and be taken care of.

You've gotten in the habit of alternating who gets to be the small spoon.

He also likes to talk after sex but it's more like him quickly rambling before falling asleep mid sentence.

Also gets the cutest bed head the morning after.

♡ ♡ Anton ♡ ♡

Sigh.....MY MAN MY MAN MY MAAANNN okay sorry wait-

This is gonna be long because he's my favourite, tee hee.

I don't think he's a Virgin but he's mostly inexperienced, hasn't really done a whole lot but knows the basics.

I mean have you seen all the shit he was up to? Swimming competitively, playing the cello, being an Idol, this man doesn't have time for anything.

Also another one that takes his time dating you before you two sleep together, I don't think he'd wanna sleep with you if he wasn't sure you two would eventually be official.

Also another switch, leans dom though, specifically soft dom.

This man is PACKING, we've all seen that one screenshot, definitely the "Big and doesn't know what to do with himself" trope.

Would honestly prefer a more experienced partner, tell him what to do because he doesn't know.

Also has a size kink, you could only be like two inches shorter than him but the fact that you're shorter at all gets him going, it's not just about height either.

He's broad as hell so he loves giving you back hugs, especially when you're brushing your teeth so he can see himself engulf you, that visual really gets him going.

Unexpectedly kind of a tease, leans into kiss you but pulls back just before your lips touch his, passing you a big smile when you pout.

Also speaking of him being huge...his hands....okay listen listen.

Whenever he plays the cello I can only think of one thing...

There's no way his clit rubbing game isn't on point, not too hard, not too soft, keeps it at a consistent pace, doesn't loose it mid way...

NEED THAT. DESIRE THAT.

Also his fingers are so long? He has the biggest hands in Riize, I just know they can do some damage.

Loved laying your back against his chest and reaching down to finger you, has a arm wrapped around your waist so you can't push him away.

"sshhh it's okay baby, just stay still. let me make you feel good"

Also loves giving and recieving head, I already wrote a whole fic centered around him eating pussy so I won't go into details about that here.

He loves watching you struggle to take his cock into your mouth, it's nearly impossible to get it all down and it makes his size kink go crazy.

He rarely finishes in your mouth because seeing you struggle to suck him off makes him want to fuck you right then and there.

Gets so sleepy after sex, like wants to fall asleep then and there type of sleepy. He isn't great at aftercare solely because he gets lazy and just wants to sleep and also because again he isn't that experienced.

Will eventually get a hang of it though, will clean you up and praise you, he doesn't even really do it on purpose it just kinda slips out, how you're so pretty, how you feel so soft, how much he loves you etc etc.

Wants you to sleep on top of him because feeling your weight on top of him is comforting.

Really hope y'all like this, writing these was so fun

51 notes · View notes

paige1722 · 3 days ago

Text

One Last Time

Summary: There has been a bioterrorism attack; people are becoming undead monsters. Simon will stop at nothing to find you and see you again, even if it's for one last time.

Pairing: Simon Riley x Reader

Warnings: major death, angst, gore, violence, implied suicide

masterlist

Before Simon met you, he had struggled to get a good night's rest, memories of his past always coming back to haunt him, missions gone wrong, and thoughts of ‘what if’ coursing through his mind, keeping him awake. After he met you, he felt like he could finally breathe again. Finally, after what felt like centuries, he was able to sleep at least somewhat soundly throughout the night, with thoughts and memories of you. Those were his favorite dreams, dreams where he got to hear your voice, your laugh, anything that involved you. He especially loved seeing the way you would look at him, as if he was the most important person in the world, even though you had to remind him several times that he did, in fact, deserve the love, you gave him and more. Simon Riley will do whatever it takes to see that look on your face again, even if it is just one last time.

It has been two months since the world came crashing down; a new bioweapon was released that turns people into terrifying and disgusting creatures who are no longer human once infected. They become monsters that will stop at nothing to fulfill the unstoppable hunger coursing through their veins for blood and gore. No one ever thought they would see the day when zombies would actually walk the Earth. Simon remembers when he first heard the terrible news; he was just getting back from a relatively easy mission when he got the news from Price.

—-

“There’s nothing we can do anymore, Simon. This might just be the end of the world as we know it.” Price said, sounding hopeless, something that Simon had never thought he would hear from his strong-willed Captain before.

The thought of you at home or at work alone, on the other side of the country, so far away from him. If something were to happen to you, he didn’t even want to think about it for fear of speaking it into existence. He pulled out his phone, his hands shaking as he called you. Simon’s heart was pounding in his ears, making the ringing of the line barely audible. He began to hold his breath; the longer it took for you to answer, the seconds felt like centuries. On the fourth ring, you answered the phone, not even able to greet him before he was already giving you orders, something he never does, hating to let you see that side of him, but when your life was on the line, it was something that had to be done.

—---

That phone call was the last time Simon had heard your voice as he walked through the broken streets of your once lively neighborhood trying to find you, hoping with everything he had left that you listened to him and stayed safe. All you had to do was barricade yourself in your shared home; Simon was always a worrier when it came to your safety, teaching you how to correctly defend yourself with guns and knives should the need ever arise, making sure the house was constantly stocked full of emergency supplies such as first aid kits, nonperishable foods, and bottle water, something you always poked fun of him for asking if he was ready for the zombie apocalypse, little did you both know that a simple joke would soon quickly become a reality. In the back of his mind, he was very thankful that you, at the very least had enough supplies to last you a long time and keep yourself safe until he could get to you.

As he walked closer and closer to your shared home, broken glass crunching under his heavy boots, Simon thought about the long journey here. After the last phone call he shared with you, it was too long after that electricity, the internet, and everything quickly stopped working all over the world. The only source of communication was radio transmission, but only if you were lucky enough to find a working generator hooked to a radio station or one that was run on solar panels. Luckily, he did not need any of that to locate you, knowing exactly how to get back to you no matter what it takes, even if he has to walk the whole way by himself.

Simon promised Price that whenever he was able, Simon would try to contact him and that once he found you safe and sound, he would meet Price and the rest of the task force at the safe house Gaz was at to regroup and create a haven for themselves and other survivors they should find along the way. Though, if Simon was being completely honest, he didn’t really care about finding or helping anyone else, at least not until he found you, the only thing still keeping him going, his light in the darkness. Even though he was fairly used to walking long distances, combat, and guerilla warfare, the more that got in his way to reaching you felt like another nail in the coffin. Sometimes, though Simon was lucky, he would find a car in working condition that still had a bit of gas left in it, so he was able to speed down the damaged roads covered in corpses, cars, and monsters.

Simon sees it now, the place you both called home; over the last two months, the agriculture has run wild, the weeds and grass growing tall in the yard, your once carefully looked after garden of flowers and small fruits and vegetables destroyed by what he can only hope was wild animals. The familiar wooden steps groan under his added weight as Simon slowly ascends the stairs. He grabs the worn door handle to find it locked, taking that as a good sign, hoping you are safe inside, he reaches into his hidden pocket underneath his tactical vest and pulls out the small house key that you painted black with a tiny little ghost in the center telling him ‘it matched his aesthetic more’ his heart clenches at the memory afraid of what he will find behind the closed doors.

Simon slides the key into the lock and turns it, causing it to click into place, again, he grabs the handle, turning it to push the door open only to be met with resistance. Looking through the small crack of the door, he sees the heavy wooden bookshelf, ‘you just had to have for all your trinkets and books’ shoved against the door, blocking entry. A rush of pride fills his chest that you listened to him and blocked the entry points of the house with furniture. Using all his might, Simon slams his shoulder into the door, trying to push it open along with the bookshelf.

“Love! Are you here? Answer me?!” Simon's deep voice cut through the silence of the house as he squeezed through the small gap in the door he was able to make. Once inside, he reached back and slowly shut and locked the door, not wanting to have any surprise visits from anyone or anything else. Still not hearing any response from you, Simon begins to make his way through the house. Looking at the small, cozy couch where he first worked up the courage to tell you that he loved you, though a whisper at first, scared of your reply, fearing it would ruin your relationship, until you threw yourself in his arms saying it back much louder than he had, it was now propped up against the wall as a makeshift barrier covering the window that looked out over your garden.

Simon walks into the kitchen with his gun raised just in case, already fearing the worst. The kitchen that was once filled with your joyous laughter as you covered him in flour from an impromptu baking idea you got after watching one of those silly baking shows you liked to watch when he was away on a mission. Now, nothing but his heavy breathing and footsteps can be heard. A muffled cry reached Simon’s ears, causing him to whip around in search of the source of the sound. Heading towards your shared bedroom, the door slightly ajar, letting him see somewhat into the room, memories flashed behind his eyes: the bed where he held you close at night, where you moaned out his name in pleasure, the bed where you comforted him after harsh nightmares that seemed too real.

Using the tip of his gun, he pushed the door open quickly checking the corners of the room for danger, finding nothing until another muffled noise could be heard coming from the closet. Slowly, he walks toward the closet, he reaches out his hand, shaking from what he might find, and rips open the closet door, aiming the gun. Only to find you huddled in the corner of the closet shakily holding one of his hunting knives while tears stream down your face while you cover your mouth trying to hold in your sobs.

Upon seeing you, Simon drops to his knees, whispering your name, ripping off the mask from his face. Through the tears in your eyes, you see Simon kneeling in front of you, and you leap forward, throwing yourself into his awaiting embrace, the knife now forgotten on the floor beside you. You loudly sob as you tuck your face into his chest, Simon's arms tighten around you to the point where it almost hurts, but it is a good kind of pain. His face is tucked in the corner of your neck; his breathing is shaky and labored. You both sit in the opening of the closet, holding each other as close as you can, until Simon pulls back from you and grabs your face, holding it carefully in his hands, his eyes searching your face, before leaning forward and placing his forehead against yours closing your eyes.

He lets out another shaky breath, “I am glad that I was able to make it in time to see you one last time.”

Your face fulls together in confusion, putting your hand overtop of his, “One last time? Simon, what are you talking about?”

Simon feels you pull your face out of his hands, but still holding his hands, he opens his eyes to see more tears now streaming down your face as your eyes focus on the bite mark on his left arm, the ripped shirt covered in blood as he tried to fight off the spreading infection as best he could with a tourniquet. Simon tried so hard to make it back to you unscathed, but he was ambushed and attacked by a horde of zombies just yesterday. Everything happened so fast that he didn’t even realize he had been bitten until later. When he realized, he thought about killing himself right then and there to protect you, but he couldn’t, not yet anyway, he wanted to see you again. He had to, he had to know that you were ok. Plus, he couldn’t stand the thought of you never knowing what had happened to him, making you spend the rest of your life worrying about him. So, he decided he would find you and see you again for the last time.

“no, no, no, no. Please no! Simon, I just got you back you can’t leave me. Please don’t do this to me..I… can’t do this anymore.” you are sobbing uncontrollably now.

Simon pulls you into his chest again and rubs a soothing hand down your back. “I am so sorry, love. I hate to do this to you, but I needed to see you. I had to know that you were safe.” His voice rumbled against your face. “You won’t be alone; I wouldn’t do that to you. I was able to contact Price earlier today and told him and he is on the way to you. He will be here within the coming week. The safe haven they create isn’t too far from here. They all promised me they would keep you safe.” Simon feels his control wavering, but he needs to stay strong for you; crying right now would not help you.

—

You both stay like that, slumped on the floor, holding onto each other with everything you have because you know when you let go, it will be for the last time. “How much longer do you have left?” you whispered out, your voice raw and strained from all the crying.

Simon let out a deep, painful breath, “A day at most, the infection moves at a fast rate. But I am not taking any chances; I’m doing it tonight. Price will be here soon, and you’ll be ok.”

He feels you shiver in his hold at his words. Simon knows that you understand his meaning without having to say it. Simon knows he is already risking so much by coming back to the house to see you one last time, but just for once he wants to be selfish and make all of his suffering worth it, holding you in his arms makes him feel complete once again even though you both know that time is running out. He grabs your face and brings your lips to his uncovered ones, kissing you, trying to show you that everything will be ok, that you are going to be ok, trying to say everything that he is too scared to say through your last shared kiss. Salty tears can be tasted on your lips as you wrap your hands around his neck, running your fingers through his hair like you always do. Simon pulls back from you just a bit, though your lips still brush against each other with every word he whispers, “I love you. No matter where I end up, I will always search for you to keep you safe.”

He gives you one last peck against the lips as he slips out of your hold, walking to the door and closing it behind him because he knows if he stops now and looks at you, he won’t be able to follow through with his plans, and he has to do this. He has to keep you safe, even if it means breaking your heart in the process. Your sobs echo loudly throughout the home that was once filled with so much happiness. Tears fill his eyes, but he keeps on walking, squeezing through the gap in the front door, pulling it shut, locking the door back, hoping that you will move the bookshelf back in front of the door. The key feels heavy in his grasp as he rubs his thumb over the small ghost painted on it. He bends down carefully, placing the key under the doormat for Price to find.

Simon walks around to the edge of the house where the tool shed still stands with overgrown weeds covering it. He prys the door open till he finds what he is looking for, pulling out the heavy wrench from inside the toolbox. The metal feels cool in his grip. Simon rolls his shoulders back, raising the hand that holds the wrench above his head before bringing the wrench down onto his jaw with as much force as he can muster. Pain explodes across his face, but he won’t stop not until he knows for sure his jaw is broken. He refuses to take any chances of coming back as one of the disgusting zombies and potentially end up biting or hurting you.

It took three blows before Simon could feel his jaw hanging limply from his face. The pain was one of the worst pains he had ever felt in his entire life, but to keep you safe, he had to do it. Plus, the physical pain he was experiencing was nothing compared to the pain inside his chest. Simon slides down the side of the shed, sits down in the grass, pulls his gun, places it on the side of his head, closing his eyes, picturing your smiling face in his mind, the life you both should of had together flashing throughout his mind as he pulls the trigger, the last thing he sees is you standing before him the day you meet smiling brightly at him.

—-----------

Four days later, when Price arrives at you and Simon’s home, he walks up the steps leading to your door when something catches the corner of his eye off to the side of the house. Price sees the tool shed with a slumped figure sitting in the shadow, walking over to it with his weapon raised; bile raises in the back of his throat that he has to force back down at the sight of you covered in blood wrapped in Simon’s arms your face tucked under his broken jaw. In your hands, Price sees a note. He reaches down and pulls the note from your hands, opening it.

‘I am sorry, John. I couldn’t leave him all alone here.” He places the note back where he found it, looking down at his friends as tears fill his eyes. He refuses to let them fall because he knows wherever they are, they are together.

--------------------------

This was my first attempt at writing angst. I hope you all like it. Please let me know if there are any warnings that I missed!

97 notes · View notes

thedolmainblog · 19 hours ago

Note

I'd love to hear even just a little snippet on some of your other favorite pc interactions! For both Blythe and Aiden if you'd like!

(cracks hand) oh i got you anon

SCHOOL BLYTHE is probably the most approachable version of blythe....hes just a guy. there were a LOT of pc/blythe interaction on my old blog!!! noteable ones include blythe being buds with school eris, basically the two defiant dogs, getting blessed by nico, blythe being offered a BJ from yunie because she used his big body to basically cover herself, ive jokingly giving a collar and him already putting a leash on it.....most of it is wholesome :)

OLDER BLYTHE is where things get spicy. if you've followed me for a while i think you know what im talking about. theres the whole thing with yunie (points at their wedding bands) BUT hes also been leashed by charlotte because she romanced him NORMALLY with a few PANTY SHOTS. eris growing up and reconnecting with blythe, perhaps becoming something more.....theres also blythe being molded into a weapon in shilohs hand only to realize shiloh wanted more than just a weapon. ASTER SPEEDRUNNING THE BLYTHE ROMANCE ROUTE BY KISSING HIM AND GETTING THE SHIT ROCKED OUT OF HER!! so on and so forth. theres probably a lot im missing BUT I HOLD EVERY AND EACH ONE OF THEM NEAR AND DEAR TO MY HEART. also in one of the many universes has killed brooke for yunie. only guy who actually followed up his threats. whoops!

aiden.....younger aiden is so focused and single minded that they dont have a lot of interactions BUT!!!!! they do have a (hilarious) beef with rhett. rhett hates their ass and aiden thinks its really funny. they are INTERESTED about rhett but thinks hes short sighted in his town revolution plan. clearly not as meticulously planned like theirs. i also do think they get along with other angel tf pcs in general, just because. dont mind them staring at their fluffy white wings.

OLDER aiden has leashed so many people their game is insane. theyve been sharing delilah with blythe, they've made smarty be the goodest most obedient girl of all (for a few weeks at LEAST) and they basically got elsie's ass. also has madonna as their lapcat.....charlotte also has sucked a gun for them aswell. so.

#i need to talk abt aiden more actually. but my blythe fever....ough....#sorry for not tagging but YALL SHOULD KNOW WHOS WHO!!!!!#blythe the scrapper #aiden the pragmatist #zeze answers

39 notes · View notes

shmisky · 3 days ago

Note

do you think ford could get abusive if he was just a little bit more morally unhinged? he seems to teeter that line in a lot of stancest content (not judging!) i know you've talked about truly canon stans vs the stans in fics, hcs etc. how close do you think canon ford is to being thay way? (if you're not actually into this, feel free to delete this ask, and i hope i haven't made you uncomfortable.) if not abusive he at least displays a lot of controlling tendencies in a lot of fancontent. how 'canon' would you say this is? thank you for answering in the event that you do, your blog is a gift

Thank you!! 🩷🩷🩷

That doesn’t make me uncomfortable at all! In fact, I find this a deeply interesting subject! Anon, you’re about to get a big answer... a full essay, more like 😭

How should we perceive this guy, morally speaking? How close is he of the darker guy fandom makes him be?

I think it depends on a lot of factors.

Is canon Ford abusive? No. Was he ever intended to be? Also no. Could he be, if he was “a little bit” worse? That depends, I think, of 1) how harsh or how lenient you are on Ford’s questionable canon choices in general, and 2) who do you personally want Ford to be. The second thing does matter, anon, because we often tend to shape our canon evidence to our perception of characters, not the contrary! Human beings are, I fear, extremely biased. No exceptions.

First I’ll analyze fandom culture, then I’ll analyze Ford’s canon morality or lack thereof, then I’ll analyze Ford’s relationship with Stan. I WILL answer your question, I promise. I will get there. I’ll just yap a lot first!

There are many flavors of darker!Ford: from possessive and/or overprotective (when the overprotectiveness becomes condescending or controlling) to physically/emotionally/psychologically abusive. We see hints of behaviors in canon that, if exacerbated, and only if exacerbated, could make canon Ford that person in darker fics—but would that be fair to Ford? After all, what kind of person would you become if I took all your worse traits and exacerbated them? I personally don’t think I would become a very good one.

That said, Ford is a morally gray character. That is pretty much a fact! 😭 But... Stan also is! Minor criminal activities (such as petty theft, scams, tax evading, etc) aside, he canonically drugged and kidnapped a person in Little Gift Shop of Horrors! These two are truly the perfect match, hahah! You’d be right to point out we see considerably more dark!Ford content than dark!Stan content, though. So... is Ford just worse? Do people just hate him?

I think there are many factors that could explain that preference.

One, the dynamics between Ford and Stan in canon. Their relationship is unequal for the great majority of their shared history. Ford holds power over Stan, both in subtler ways (emotionally) and more obvious ways (physically). More on that here. For an abuser to be able to abuse someone, they obviously need some sort of leverage or power over the other person. (See: Bill with Ford.)

Two, the personal preference for bottom!Stan (if you’re a stancester) and/or personally identifying with/relating to Stan more than to Ford. Bottom!Stan is the most popular option in this corner of the fandom; I’ve seen three polls so far, one here on Tumblr and two on Twitter, and in all three of them bottom!Stan or omega!Stan (one of the polls was an omegaverse one, and if you’re familiar with omegaverse rules I don’t think I need to explain how the two things are related) won. I think that, among the many other different reasons for people preferring bottom Stan, is the fact that they want Stan to be taken care of. I think a similar desire could be relevant here, with abused!Stan: the desire to see Stan victimized due to stangst/whump/horny reasons, hahah. Especially if people happen to personally relate to Stan. There was a poll on the gen side of the fandom recently asking which character was better, Stan or Ford, and Stan won. So we can assume Stan is more popular than Ford. The more popular and beloved a character is, the more likely they are to suffer in the fandom’s hands, ironically 😭 When it’s about Ford being obsessive and/or possessive and/or overprotective (even if in a controlling, condescending way) it might be related to wanting Stan to be the focus of Ford’s attention; wanting Stan to be desperately desired. (I dislike misleading generalization, so please understand I’m saying this might be the case with some people, not all.)

Stan is more tethered to societal conventions than he is, I feel. I’m not even talking about incest! But, for example, the fact Stan absolutely refuses to cry in front of anyone without making up an excuse to cover up the fact he’s crying. When Ford cries (more rarely than Stan), Ford... simply cries. He even mentions it in his journal. When everyone is bothered by Ford’s terrible smell at the library, Ford tells himself they’re actually smelling science; when everyone stares at him for wearing a tinfoil hat on his head (blacklight version of Journal 3), Ford tells himself they’re just jealous. I don’t think Stan has achieved that level of “idgaf” yet 😭 And, if you’re talking about post-portal Ford who went through hundreds of dimensions during thirty years, there’s even more reason for social indifference. After years of being bullied for his lack of social skills and his extra fingers, Ford was apparently forced to learn how to shield himself emotionally and relish in the fact he’s weird, different, special.

Third, Ford’s specific brand of darkness vs Stan’s specific brand of darkness. That’s a pretty interesting one! When people think of dark!Stan, they usually think of a more pragmatic sort of villain, or a cunning, Bill-core conman; this guy has potential to be a mob boss or something similar. Meanwhile, with Ford, you have the potential to make him a questionable “mad scientist” of sorts; he’s fascinated with weirdness, anomalies; he scoffs at society rules; he is the Author of the Journals, he knows a lot about magic; he can actually invent things such as mind control ties if he so wishes; he has more potential to be turned into a creepy weirdo.

I mean, Stan says Dipper got his creepiness from Ford in his commentary of Land Before Swine:

So here’s the deal; apparently my sweaty grandnephew, Dipdop, was recording the entire summer with Soos’ video camera, like a little weirdo? Like every single thing we did, the entire summer he was recording. That’s—that’s what we’re watching right now. It’s kinda creepy that he did that. He gets that from Ford, I think. That and his inability to make eye contact with women.

Now, to dive in the darkness/abuser potential of Ford, I believe there’s a very, very important thing we should consider first. And that’s the genre of the media! The fact that Ford is a cartoon character. If GF was a live-action TV series, for example, my analysis would be very different. But as a character from a cartoon for children with a heavy humoristic tone, Ford is meant to be exaggerated. A lot of things in cartoons are meant to be comic relief, classic slapstick humor, etc, and shouldn’t be taken seriously. They’re just that: funny. I can think of many cartoon characters that would be cancelled, so to speak, if people stopped to think about the implications of the things they do. When I watched GF as a kid, a lot of the darker things went straight over my head, and honestly I think that’s the way we’re “meant” to consume most cartoons.

Now, we’re watching it as adults, and so we want to make it deeper! Darker! More interesting and complex! And that’s a very understandable urge, of course. GF has a lot of potential to be made darker, because it often covers how fucked up or angsty something truly is with humor. For example, young Stan ending his rant about how he was a homeless criminal and went to prison in three different countries and had to chew his way out of the trunk of a car with a comment about the fact he’s got... a mullet! Oh no! The horror! Or Ford having a nightmare about a six-fingered hand squeezing his brother to death and then being like, “ugh, puns! I hate puns!” And above all... Bill. Oh, man, how much Bill is made softer/more relatable through humor! Just remove all of Bill’s jokes and sarcastic quips and charisma from TBoB and what you get is an utterly terrifying villain and abuser who ruined Ford’s life. More than Bill in general, the things that Bill does—Bill messing with Ford’s brain so that every time Ford attempts to say “burden” he says “sea otter” instead (blacklight edition of Journal 3) is very funny, but when you stop and remove the humoristic layer and realize the implications of this... the extent of Bill’s control over Ford’s mind...

Ok, so now that we have cleared that up, we can focus on a second thing: how is Ford meant to be perceived? What were Alex’s intentions when writing him? We have the behind-the-scenes commentary on The Last Mabelcorn:

“[...] Dipper briefly believes that Ford is evil. And there was a lot of fan speculation when we first meet Ford. Generally, when television shows introduce a new, mysterious character late in the game, they turn out to be a villain. [...] We could have made Ford evil, but I always felt this would be less interesting [...] I thought that if I’m Stan, I’d be more frustrated if Ford is actually a good guy.”

There you have it! Alex thinks he’s a good guy! The flaw that Alex loves to attribute to Ford is pride/arrogance, that is, the fact Ford is full of himself and believes he’s a special snowflake. Outside of that Achilles’ heel, though, Ford is clearly meant to be a likeable member of the Pines family.

The character of Shermie was also specifically created so that Ford wouldn’t be made hateable or irredeemable by abandoning his own kid(s), according to a somewhat recent interview:

Um, and so, I look at this always through the lens of character and I asked myself, “what would it mean if Ford was their grandfather?” and I thought, “well it would mean that Ford, you know, had children,” and if Ford had children and abandoned them, then he’s a much harder to redeem character.

And he probably wanted to make Ford at least likeable enough or sympathetic to the audience for them to root for the Stans happy ending together, hahah. In the same interview:

I’m like, I’m in the story mines, like I’m in a boiler room with the pipes, where I’m like, “Oh no! Ford’s not likable, okay we need to add this. Oh shit, Dipper’s making a choice that’s out of character!” and then someone is telling me there’s a timeline that needs to be fixed!

That doesn’t mean you have to agree with him! Sometimes, the creator/director/author of a piece of media fails to portray the dynamic/vibe/context they envisioned and/or to convey their true intentions through canon. As a Word of God girlie who always read lots of interviews from creators, I’ve lost count of how many times I was really surprised by the gap between what a scene was meant to express versus what the majority of the fandom interpreted the scene to express.

“Bunny, I don’t care about it being a cartoon nor about Alex’s wishes! Is there canon evidence for Ford being craycray?”

Oh, plenty. Actually so much that I don’t even know where to begin 😭 I even commented with my friends how easy it would be to answer this ask just listing everything Ford did that was ever questionable, which wouldn’t be fair to Ford due to many reasons (the fact that Stan is also morally questionable, that Ford is a cartoon character, etc), and how similarly easy it would be to defend Ford by using Word of God or shifting the focus to Stan’s or Fiddleford’s actions.

Remember how I said that Ford’s morality depended on who you personally want Ford to be and that human beings are naturally biased? I once read a fascinating article about why very intelligent, reasonable people ended up believing crazy things. It argued that them believing crazy things didn’t indicate a lack of intelligence at all, because their intelligence was being employed in justifying what they already wanted to believe to themselves! So, basically, they often choose to believe in something based off their emotions, desires, etc, and once they settled on a conclusion they very much wanted to believe, their intelligence became a tool to justify that/find further evidence for that. It mentioned a study by a social psychologist saying that when humans want to believe something deep down, they ask themselves, “Can I believe it?” while when they don’t want to believe something deep down, they ask themselves, “Must I believe it?”

So if I want Ford to be a darker character, for example, I can ask myself, “Can I believe that Ford could be that dark? Can I find evidence for that?” And of course I can! I can twist a lot of canon moments into evidence against Ford, in the same way I can use canon moments to (at least try to) defend Ford. So if I go on a quest with the specific goal of finding proof for the interpretation of Ford’s character I personally want to believe, I will. It’s very similar to the phenomenon of looking at canon with shipping goggles, hahah. I already have a conclusion in my mind and I’m just trying to find something to support that.

And what would I point out if I wanted to accuse Ford?

First, that according to Alex (still in the same interview I mentioned earlier), Ford can justify pretty much anything:

Here’s the thing. When I think about what you just said about me and Rob [Renzetti, coauthor of Journal 3], it’s so funny because what to you comes across as “Oh, Rob understands Ford’s ridiculous recklessness,” to me comes across as “Rob IS Ford and Ford does rationalize.” That’s what he does. One of Ford’s greatest powers is rationalizing. So you’re seeing Rob as Ford rationalizing Ford’s bad decisions.

In that moment, I think what’s being revealed is less Ford’s recklessness, and more Ford’s ability to justify anything.

Interestingly enough, what I just explained about humans using their intelligence to justify their beliefs could easily be applied to Ford!

We see proof of this behavior in canon. One of Ford’s favorite excuses is science and/or logic.

“Logical. That’s logical.” (Notice how Stan is also there with him! He’s the one who has the idea in the first place! The morally questionable twins...)

“I’m doing a public service by removing them.”

“But my crimes had a noble purpose [...]”

“[...] but it was all in the name of science!”

Sure, Ford. Whatever helps you sleep at night, hahah.

“Science” is, amusingly to me, Ford’s knee-jerk favorite/default excuse to the point he uses it even when it’s about him reeking:

Perhaps you might be thinking, “but the only crime Ford seems capable of committing is thievery!” Stealing radioactive waste, stealing the parts to build his quantum destabilizer, etc.

Except Ford is described in his multidimensional bounty poster as “armed and dangerous,” something that Stan, as a fellow thief and criminal, was never described as (in his own bounty posters).

And he has straight up lied to his journal before! A good example:

“I have not sampled human blood.”

I have seen a lot of people finding this amusing because hahah, every person has sampled human blood, like when your baby teeth fall! But that’s not the point. The point is that Ford was in the middle of writing something, stopped, realized it didn’t sound very socially acceptable (probably because the means he had used to taste said blood had not been very socially acceptable; notice that he compares it to animal blood, which means he had tasted it as well) then rectified it by crossing it out and directly lying to the reader.

That established, I very much doubt stealing parts for his quantum destabilizer was the only crime he committed to become an outlaw in entire dimensions 😅

And other people have pointed it out before, but Bill’s offer to Ford in Weirdmaggedon is telling. “No more restrictions! No more laws! You’d be one of us. All-powerful. Greater than anything you’ve imagined!” As someone who knew Ford pretty well and had been literally inside Ford’s mind, he thought that was something that could possibly tempt Ford.

Can you blame him? After all, this is the kind of thing Ford says in TBoB:

Now, all that is just about Ford as a morally gray character, in a very general way. When you’re talking about Ford being abusive to Stan, specifically, things are different. Why? Ford loves him deeply. I wrote an entire meta on the little details people miss that are proof of Ford’s love.

We see Ford (and Stan, again, as his partner in crime) doing questionable choices for their family. Such as threatening the bus driver with an actual gun and brass knuckles so that their niece’s pig would be allowed to enter the vehicle. (See how much darker things can get if you remove the comical layer of the cartoon genre?)

Earlier on, Ford was fully willing to doom the entire universe to save three people, including Stan (again, his family):

But Ford using such morally grayness against his family? That’s a different thing. So here I start the third and final part of this analysis, Ford’s (possible mis)treatment of Stan, whom he loves.

Remember how I said in the beginning that Ford’s worst traits could become abusive only if exacerbated, which wouldn’t be fair to him?

We know that Ford can be jealous towards a loved one of sorts (if you consider Bill to have been a loved one back then), canonically:

(Bunny Opinion Time: I can easily see Ford getting possessive, because to me possessiveness entails at least some measure of entitlement. Ford does feel entitled to Stan’s help, at least—“I’m giving you a chance to do the first worthwhile thing in your life, and you won’t even listen!”—so considering the very codependent nature of their relationship as boys and the fact Stan has always treated Ford like the center of his life, it’s not a stretch to imagine Ford growing to feel entitled to Stan’s love or Stan himself, period. They’re twins -> Stan is his other half -> Stan belongs to him subconscious pipeline.)

That he can be condescendingly protective (not just simply protective) towards his loved ones, canonically:

Remember when I said it depended on how charitably you want to view Ford? You could look at this and think, “how cute! he cares so much!” 🥺💕 or you could focus on the condescending/patronizing vibes (Ford thinking Stan was an overgrown child unable to handle Bill; Ford wanting his grown friend to lose even though it was a choice Fiddleford made because he would be supposedly unable to handle it) and think, “ugh, Ford being Ford” 🙄😤 or “hahah, Ford being Ford” 😂 even, “ooh, juicy, Ford being Ford” 😏🔥 This could be either canon evidence of his caring personality or canon evidence of his controlling personality, depending on what I would be trying to convince you of.

Anyway. We also know Ford can be physically aggressive towards Stan even when completely unprovoked:

To make things worse, he was initially supposed to make Stan bleed with the force of his punch:

However, we have to keep in mind that the original scene was modified for a reason! Very probably because Alex was actively trying to make Ford somewhat likeable and/or redeemable. He must have (correctly) assumed making Stan bleed would be Too Much for the audience. We don’t have to consider this as extra official material or anything—it would actually be unfair to the Ford we did get.

Our Ford actually felt bad about it later, as he writes in Journal 3:

(Bunny Opinion Time: I personally don’t think our Ford has much potential as a physical abuser—compared to all other kinds of abuse—even if that tendency of his was indeed exacerbated, despite how aggressive and violent he can be towards actual threats in general. As we’ve already established, canon Ford is good at rationalizing his bad actions, and doing physical harm to Stan wouldn’t be something easy to justify to himself because the damage would be quite visible. Physical harm, out of all kinds of abuse, is the one taken the most seriously by people in general. He loves Stan, and there are probably limits he wouldn’t cross even if very angry, especially because—when it comes to a Ford who is stronger than Stan—he knows he’s physically stronger than Stan. Only more reason to hold back.)

Back to the matter at hand.

We also know Ford can verbally humiliate Stan:

I think it’s fair to say that this is the worst thing he ever said directly to Stan in canon!

But as I’ve mentioned in a previous meta (yes, I’m straight up copying and pasting my own words):

Don’t get me wrong, I do think Ford looked down on Stan—on people in general. There’s plenty of evidence for that in both Journal 3 and Word of God, if you count Word of God as evidence. Ford himself admits to that after Weirdmaggedon. But the thing about Stan proving his worth specifically—that’s probably also related to Ford’s need to be in control at all times. If Ford admits to himself he is not in control, that he needs help from other people, that he is really that desperate... Well. He can’t admit that! So he rationalizes his way out of that conclusion by convincing himself he would be the one doing Stan a favor (offering him the chance to prove himself to Ford), and not the other way around. He doesn’t need Stan, he doesn’t need anyone. Stan is the one who needs him and his forgiveness! Phew 😮‍💨

The other times he roasts Stan are not said directly to Stan’s face, so I think it wouldn’t be fair to count them.

Still, Ford’s most questionable/morally gray moment when it comes to Stan might be the possession tie incident.

STANFORD!

And in this case, the comic relief/exaggeration typical of a cartoon doesn’t work very well as a shield, because they made 12-year-old Dipper acknowledge out loud how dubious it was:

And Ford not only shrugs it off, but phrases it in a way that leaves no doubt about the true power of his invention:

This moment becomes even more interesting, imo, if you think about the fact Ford knew from experience exactly how terrible it was to lose his own bodily autonomy. After all, that’s what Bill did to him! I’ve once read a very well-written dark!Ford stancest fic that made Ford darker because, and not in spite of, Bill constantly possessing him—as long lasting damage from sharing literal head-space with a demon, Bill messed with his life views and worsened his morals.

Even if Ford were directly controlling Stan like a puppet with this tie, though, it still wouldn’t be a “Bill controlling Ford” situation. Ford isn’t sadistic. I think canon Ford is very, very distant from controlling Stan with the intent to harm him or to make him pay/suffer, especially because, again, Ford does love Stan. He would have to be fully convinced that it was for Stan’s own good, “brother knows best” style, perhaps out of condescending/patronizing protectiveness (a tendency of his we just mentioned). He let Dipper borrow the tie not so Dipper could embarrass or humiliate Stan publicly, but so that Dipper could help Stan get elected, because he thought Stan would ruin his own chances by just being himself.

When Alex was asked, nine years ago, at the New York Comic Con, who was the older twin between the two Stans, he not only said it was Ford, but that Ford felt naturally superior because of it. He has also mentioned in the behind-the-scenes DVD commentary that a thing Ford liked about Dipper is that Dipper easily obeyed him 😭 One thing is for sure: Ford is bossy, and you can’t even blame him for that. He probably grew up having his “knowing better than Stan” status validated again and again by the adults in his life.

In conclusion, anon, I don’t think canon Ford is close to becoming abusive if you make him just “a little bit” more unhinged—as if he’s just barely non-abusive in canon or something; that wouldn’t be fair to him at all—but I do think he has control issues, and that if you 1) remove the typical cartoon humoristic layer, 2) consider his questionable moments in canon as seriously indicative of his character, 3) take his worst traits and run with them... you’d naturally end up with a very controlling, very entitled, possibly possessive kind of guy. Logically, the more you exacerbate such traits, the worse Ford gets. All along, though, you’d have to keep in mind that Ford only gets as far as he can rationalize and/or justify to himself. He cares about being a hero, after all.

I definitely think there are limits to what our Ford could believably rationalize to himself (especially regarding his loved ones, for sure), but like I said before, you don’t necessarily have to obey such limits in fanfiction 😉

#stancest #stancest meta #the bunny answers #the bunny analyzes

58 notes · View notes

asheepinfrance · 23 hours ago

Text

i wrote this for so long i have no mildly witty intro. i love patrick and he's romantic to ME. comments and critiques welcome as always

He could stare at the curve of your shoulder all day and the thought is entirely foreign. Foreign but most certainly not unwelcome. In fact, when it made its way into his brain he welcomed it with open arms and walked it into the corner where he kept all the other you-based things he had stored. You on the day he’d met you at that stupid party you most definitely didn’t want to be at, you the first time he kissed you (the first time you’d been kissed, period), you just an hour ago when you asked him to spend the night. Now here he is, watching you watch some shitty movie he’d stopped paying attention to about 15 minutes ago. He’s watching the muscles beneath your skin bend at the will of your bones, watching your shoulders shake each time you laugh, hearing you steady your breath to prevent any sound from coming out, softening entirely when you fail. He remembers you saying you hate your laugh, and he thinks that’s just about the dumbest thing you’ve ever said. It’s not entirely shocking to him that he could feel this way for someone like you, because really, how could he not? Even he had some domesticity tucked under all that bravado, he just needed the right person to coax it out. And god, were you the right person.

Patrick forgets, sometimes, that you’ve never done something like this before. Shared yourself down to those ugly, nasty bits of your soul (though that only really applies to his half of your partnership, in his opinion). Inexperienced was what you were, and remain to be. He only forgets because it’s all come so naturally to you. You love like it’s the simplest thing in the world to be vulnerable. You love him like it takes no effort to, and it warms him up a little. He hadn’t been easy to love since he was 12 and found someone equally eager to be a man as him. His mother had always insisted he’d have to mellow out for someone to accept him, his father telling him to keep himself in check, women don’t like a man without that trademark stoicism. You’d proved them wrong. So he’s fine with just tracing the shape of your arm with his fingertips, eventually finding yours. He likes to think maybe, just maybe, if he held your hands long enough, your fingerprints would become one and the same.

“Hey… I’m sorry, you know. For being slow about things.”

He looks up from your hands, which were so soft in comparison to his it made him feel ill, to the smallest bit of your eye peeking over your shoulder.

“Why are you sorry?”

He knows you, mind included, well enough to know the slew of stupid answers you can supply. ‘It’s embarrassing to have so little experience under your belt at my age’, ‘you’re you and you have sex all the time, so waiting for me is stupid’, so on and so forth. He knows these things because you’ve said them all time and time again, over the course of the 3 months he’s been doing this with you. 3 months went by quite fast. 3 months has never been so blissful. He’d also never experienced a longer wait in his life, not that he’d admit it. But he’d wait till his hair ran gray and his bones could hardly hold his own weight anymore. He could be happy just to see the orange hue to your skin in the dim lamplight of your room.

“Don’t be, ‘kay? Don’t wantcha to be.”

You open your mouth to speak, but all that comes out is a sigh. He hopes it’s not a sad one. You turn over to place your cheek to his chest, stretch, bend, and soon fall asleep. He knows the sound of your breathing well enough to know the pace it takes in unconsciousness. He reaches out a careful, steady arm to turn the lamp off, his skin tingling with lack of contact until he places it back in its rightful place around your waist, exposed with your lack of a shirt. He’s more than happy to follow your lead in this, and he feels his eyes flicker closed in rhythm to your soft puffs of air against his skin.

“Hey… Patrick, you awake?”

It’s darker out now, a dark that bleeds into the room enough that he doesn’t see you even if his eyes are open. He rubs at them until you come into a view, and he settles a bit.

“M’yeah, what’s up? You alright?”

The digital clock you never actually use flashes the time: 3:23 A.M. Late enough that he’s more concerned to see you awake than happy to have this time to talk to you, though he’s happy with any time at all.

“Patrick, I was thinking… well, you know, I had this dream and…”

You’re heated like a small sun under the palms of his hands, enough that he can feel a thin layer of perspiration at the points of connection between the two of you. And he’s listening as well as he can, what with his tired brain and general boyish inattentiveness, but he thinks he’s got enough of a grasp on things to understand where this is going. He’s grinning in the dark like the Cheshire cat, and he wouldn’t be shocked if all that was visible was the shine of his teeth against the moonlight.

You’re still talking, though he’s not quite making the words out anymore, blood running past his ears in waves. He still registers that soft tone that you only adopt with him, though, and he’s trying to use it to pull himself out of the sunken, warm ocean of a wait coming to its end. He’s pulled to the surface with a gasp when your lips meet his, not unlike the times previous, but it’s not a feeling he thinks he’ll ever get used to. He’s gripping into your hair just as tightly as he can without hurting you, attempting to mumble something reassuring against your lips for the millisecond you pull away, but it’s swallowed up just as soon as it’s spoken. At least he’s sure that you’re sure.

He’s well aware he’s been growing harder since the second you woke him up, he’s fairly certain you know it, too, but he refuses to let you acknowledge it yet. He slowly shifts his lips to your cheek, jawline, neck. He can feel your pulse thrumming in the vein in your neck, feels your skin jump against his nose with the strength of it. He can die happy just knowing that he made your heart race, but he’d live happier to continue doing just that. He’s soft, provoking, easing you into things. A gentle lead rather than a harsh tug. It’s what his girl deserves. He wants to bury himself in you until he’s beneath your lavender scented skin. He wants to watch each new crease, furrow and wrinkle in your skin appear in real time. He watches your head dip back, your hair shielding him from the outside world, caging him in possessively, tenderly housing him in. He sees your front teeth press into the plump flesh of your bottom lip, sees it dimple under that pressure. Hears the sigh that forces itself through that gap and he thinks that’s the sound he’ll hear when he goes to heaven.

He hears the relief in just the way you sigh when he opens your bra, and he doesn’t understand how you possibly could have kept the sight of you bare away from him. It’s almost cruel that he’s been in the presence of what could only be a goddess and you hadn’t proved as much. But he’s got the confirmation now, if your sweet, loving demeanor hadn’t been evidence enough, and he’s got all the time in the world to worship you. He trails kisses over the divots of your collarbones, between the newly exposed skin of your chest. He peeks through his lashes at you, sees the mess of your sleep-tossed hair against your shoulders, the glossy, half-lidded flutter in your eyes, the way your stomach jumps beneath his affection until he’s pressed between your thighs and he can feel how warm you are and he wills himself not to be selfish. You don’t pull away, but he refuses to move until he knows your mind is made up. He feels knuckles brush against his cheek, snake through his hair, and that’s all he needs before he’s pulling fabric over the width of your hips, the plush of your thighs and off your legs. He can see some unfamiliar scars and freckles scattered about, and he tracks them the way an astronomer would a constellation.

“Fuck, I love you so much.”

He’s almost painfully gentle and it’d be frustrating if it wasn’t so sweet. Each brush of his tongue makes the muscles in your thighs constrict, and he’s whispering his apologies about the added intrusion of his fingers against your skin. He can feel you twitch around his face, watches your mouth fall open, your cheeks flush, your chest heave. It’s a bit of encouragement that he’s doing well, which he’s only ever been concerned about with you, and when the pitch of your gasps heightens, their frequency picks up he pulls away just as unhappy to ruin your incoming peak as you are not to experience it. His fingers are slick, lips wet, and the scent of you left on him is enough to have his eyes rolling back.

He lays you down, cradling your head despite there only being pillows beneath you, and with a kiss to your forehead and a nod from you he’s kicking himself out of his painfully tight boxers and slowly pressing into you. He chokes back a gasp, stills himself on his forearm, watches your brows pinch together in discomfort. He kisses you soft, slow, until you’re sharing gasps between your open mouths, and he doesn’t stop moving until he hears that same high-pitched cadence and watches you fall apart. He’s never seen something so beautiful as you writhing around.

“Wait- Wait, you didn’t-”

“Babe, it’s fine. All that matters is that you did so well.”

You look at him, visibly exhausted, and he looks back. You fall asleep just as easily as you did before, a quiet mumble of an ‘I love you’ into his skin that he returns. He doesn’t need to tell you that he finished in his boxers about an hour ago, even if he knows you’d laugh about it. Right now, he’s content in just having you close, watching your body move. He could stare at the curve of your shoulder all day.

#challengers #challengers fic #patrick zweig #patrick zweig x reader #patrick zweig is a loverboy #this is what i get for 'enjoying writing''#enjoy writing my ass #anyways who wants another fic

32 notes · View notes

craziertogether · 23 hours ago

Text

will’s character is equally as nerfed as mikes.

tbh i hate to say it but it’s equally as valid to say that will’s character arc is equally as nerfed as mike’s IF byler isn’t endgame. will has been nothing but the stereotype of tragic gay kid. he’s experienced nothing but misery from the second he was introduced.

abusive, sexist, homophobic, AND absent father (who may have SA’d him, if you subscribe to that belief).

bros also literally canonically poor asf like brother… get your bag up fr.

LITERALLY GOES MISSING for a week and has his death FAKED by the government.

will’s trauma isn’t actually unpacked on screen, we’re left to wonder what happened to him and how he was able to survive in the upside down for that week when bigger and tougher people have died.

been possessed by the mindflayer for all of S2, brother cannot catch a break

forced to have a connection with the UD, vecna, and all that even after his trauma from literally being stuck there for a week

love joyce but her overbearing nature in the seasons isn’t that great for him either because as will said “everyone treats him like he’s different” (except someone hmm i wonder why)

set up to be this sad bullied kid, described as “all alone” by mike FROM THE BEGINNING. bullied by troy in life and even after his “death”. isn’t even accepted when he does come back to school in s2

is low-key replaced by eleven by the group while he’s gone. (i love willel don’t start)

mike replaces him for el, lucas and max aren’t as close with him in season 3, dustin has suzie and the russians plot line

wants to play DND all summer and is ignored just to have his best friends leave and join a new party like not even a little bit later bro.. the SECOND they joined hs 😭💀

has basically been sidelined for 2 full seasons as the guy who gets a tingly neck feeling every 3 weeks. he’s not even considered smart or brave anymore, js the guy with the little itty bitty twitches on his neck and loves to touch it

is STILL not well liked by his peers in california plot line because of his sister

lowk is forced to become siblings with the girl that his first love is dating (again love willel stop)

tragically plays match maker for the doomed couple (literally the ONLY person who cares about their relationship)

is written to be a sad gay boy in love with his childhood best friend since idk SEASON 1. don’t get me started in why this is actually js torturous to have done if it will end with m*leven endgame.

hes basically a prop for this ship that is TECHNICALLY STILL canonically true but leaves will with all his trauma and gay pining to currently be put at risk of being sidelined forever for the development of m*leven (painting lie)

wasted how much time on that masterpiece of a painting to then sit in a HOT ASS VAN and pour his entire soul into mike just to try and salvage a dead relationship

forced him to lie to his BEST friend, who, even if they byler not endgame is the most important person in will’s life next to his mother.

forced to LITERALLY COMFORT THE LOVE OF HIS LIFE as he’s still being a gay mess and struggling to say that he loves his own fake girlfriend

sat through mike’s piece of shit monologue and heard him tell his gf that he loved her like 10 times

not only was the monologue garbage but it probably felt genuine to will who’s been on the receiving end of mike’s motivational talks. although he should’ve clocked it as in-genuine, he probably feels like he doesn’t remember mike anymore bc they haven’t talked in months in this essay i will-

basically if byler isn’t canon, will is set up to be amongst the worst characters in the show. maybe his connection to the UD is deep as hell but even if they explain will’s secret powers or connection to the upside down, his personal development outside of the supernatural is absolutely DOG SHIT. he could be more powerful than el in the telepathy world and it would still feel like emotionally he’s been nothing but a sad doormat for the writers that only gets remembered every time there’s a small disturbance in the UD. like no development except pure torture and sidelining him for two whole seasons to be nothing more than sad gay boy that the entire GA hates bc it threatens m*leven endgame.

#byler #will byers #mike wheeler #byler analysis #byler endgame #miwi #byler nation #byler proof #byler evidence #stranger things #stranger things 5 #wiseheart #cleradin #byler is canon #byler tumblr #st5

39 notes · View notes

inksplit · 1 day ago

Text

some of my personal superstitions/beliefs drawn from nowhere other than "I Just Know"

- Everything has energy and everything absorbs energy. Things that happened in a place never truly go away. There is always something left behind.

- Most hauntings, cursed objects, lucky objects, etc are caused by this. Rarely is it a full, actual ghost, or spirit of other kinds- though those exist, too. But most of the time, it's the manifest energy of Something That Happened. A room where someone lived the unhappiest years of their life may be haunted now, not by their ghost, but by the trauma they left behind. It is possible, even, to haunt yourself.

- The same works for blessed or lucky objects. If someone loved something for many years, and gave it to you because they love you, it will bring good things to you.

- You cannot steal someone's luck, or blessing. A lucky charm that has been stolen can become a curse instead.

- Some things, however, are inherently a little bit lucky. An acorn. A coin. A snail's shell. Serendipitously finding a lucky object is better than buying one; being given a lucky object from someone who has loved it is best of all.

- Anything can become magic; haunted, cursed, blessed, lucky, negative energy, positive energy. It all depends on what happened to it, or what happened around it. If it was loved, if it was hated, if it was important to someone. Grandma's lucky charm is lucky because she loves it and believes it, and has loved and believed it for many many years- not because it inherently always was. A cursed object may not contain a ghost, or have been cursed by a witch, but if it was in your home for 40 years, and every day you looked at it and hated it, it contains that hate now. You've cursed it yourself.

- This also is why old things tend to be more haunted- they've seen more. They've absorbed more. They know more.

- If the same object, the same image, the same figure, continually shows up around you, it means Something. What it means could be different for every person. Maybe to you, an owl was there when your mother died, so an owl means death to you; so if you are suddenly noticing owls all around you, maybe its an omen. Maybe it means you're thinking about your mother. But maybe to me, an owl means protection, an owl means I am safe. These can both be true.

- Stepping on a snail is very bad luck.

- Dropping an acorn into a river is good luck, but even better if dropped from a bridge.

- Dropping a flower into a river is good luck if it lands face up and floats, but bad luck if its just swept away or turns over. If a flower is dropped into a river from a bridge, and you see it float through to the other side (and remains face up) it is the best luck of all.

- Seeing an intact mushroom while out on a walk is good luck. Seeing a broken one is bad luck. Stepping on one and breaking it yourself is the worst luck.

- Breaking a doll's face is horrendously negative. Maybe not 100% always a curse, but it's highly likely. A doll you have broken is your responsibility now.

#superstition #are y'all interested in this stuff. i have a lot to say #im gonna do separate posts about dolls and graveyards because those are Very particular. to me.#my inkbottle #i guess it counts there

44 notes · View notes

vandme12 · 1 day ago

Note

Instead of an influential reader who is always in the spotlight of the public. The reader has power and influence underground? They are part of a large mafia group or IS the leader and boss of said group. They have only the best of the best on their team and is able to get rid of some of the most powerful people with just the snap of their finger. How does the KC cast found out about their little secret? And how would they react? Love your writing and can’t wait to see how you end up doing this little ask of mine! (I was the one who requested the powerful reader AND ABSOLUTELY LOVED IT!! Ended up sending this ask and another one! Hopefully you find this concept just as interesting as my last)

I really really love your requests! Thank you for giving me these!!!

You were careful—so careful. You covered your tracks, played your role perfectly. To them, you were just another voice in the dark, someone with an uncanny knack for understanding their world.

But secrets don’t stay buried forever.

And when they found out the truth—that you weren’t just an observer, but a kingmaker, a ghost of the underworld who could make entire empires crumble with a single whisper—oh, it changed everything.

Ronin

"Oh, love… you should’ve told me sooner. I would've worn my best suit to our first date."

Ronin lives for chaos, but this? This is beyond anything he could’ve imagined. You, the one person who held his attention longer than a fleeting moment, were above him this whole time—a kingpin, a puppet master, a god among killers. And you never even flaunted it. You just sat in their little chat, watching, waiting, smiling.

He can’t stop thinking about it. The sheer power you hold. The things you could do with just a whisper. And you let him talk, let him think he had the upper hand in those playful little chats. You toyed with him.

It makes him want to break you. Or kneel at your feet. Maybe both.

Expect his flirting to become even more dangerous, insistent, and possessive. The way he looks at you now? It’s different. Before, you were interesting. Now? Now you are his new favorite obsession.

"Tell me, sweetheart… does the kingpin need a knight? Or would you rather have a monster at your side?"

V (Vigilante)

"You… run what?"

V’s world is black and white—he deals with criminals, ends them when necessary. But now? He finds out you’re at the top of the very food chain he’s been trying to tear down.

He wants to hate you for it. Wants to believe you’re just another villain. But the problem is… you’ve never been needlessly cruel. You’re calculated. Precise. You never waste blood for the sake of it. And that makes things complicated.

He starts watching you differently. Every word you say, every action, trying to gauge if you’re as bad as the people he hunts—or if you’re something else entirely.

But the worst part? He still likes you. And that pisses him off more than anything.

"Tell me—when you pull the strings, do you ever think about the people left hanging?"

"Ohhh, so that’s why you never blinked when we talked about blood~."

Angel plays with fire for fun, but you? You are the fire. And she’s not stupid—she knows when she’s in the presence of something far more dangerous than she can handle.

That doesn’t mean she’ll back off, though. If anything, she finds you fascinating. You’ve been playing in the dark this entire time, playing dumb while they all ran their mouths. That’s sexy as hell, honestly.

She gets bolder with her flirting, but there’s an edge to it now—respect. She won’t push too hard. Not until she knows exactly where your lines are.

She is sweet with you, upset you didn't tell her but you had your reasons.

"So, be honest—if I asked real nicely, Wanna be as model with me? You look dashing with your style of clothing."

Misaki

"HOLY SHIT—WAIT, SO LIKE, DO YOU HAVE, LIKE, A COOL MAFIA BASE?! CAN I SEE? CAN I JOIN? PLEASE???"

Misaki is way too excited about this. They are not scared. They should be, but they're not. If anything, they are impressed as hell.

Now they won’t stop asking stupid questions.

“How many guys you got? Like a hundred? A thousand?”

“You ever had someone’s kneecaps busted? CAN I WATCH NEXT TIME?”

“OH OH—do you have a secret underground lair?! Tell me you do. Please.”

You might have to physically stop them before he starts trying to apply for a position in your organization. The little gremlin is way too eager for their own good.

"C’mon, boss—just gimme one job. One tiny murder job! I won’t even mess it up that bad!"

33 notes · View notes

sylusplushie · 2 hours ago

Text

─── ❀ ───

a/n; this is an alternate universe where dragon!sylus and mc meet in childhood. the characters in this fiction are children. good reading <3

・・・・・

it was a cool and quiet day. she sat among the crimson flowers, waiting for him. this was their meeting place, and she always felt excited while waiting for him. she pressed her small hands against her chest, never taking her eyes off the sky because she knew he would come from there. when she saw a silhouette approaching with the sound of wings, her eyes sparkled. "sylus!" a wide smile spread across her face as she immediately stood up.

sylus landed near her, catching his breath. his heart was pounding just as fast. when he saw her running toward him, he smiled and opened his arms to catch her. without hesitation, she threw herself into his embrace, hugging him tightly. "you're late!" she scolded, furrowing her brows and tugging at his horn. sylus chuckled. "i had to make sure no one saw me, my lady," he said playfully, bowing in front of her, she couldn't hold back her laughter. "your apology is accepted."

they sat together, looking at the view. the field full of flowers looked magical, and the wind carried their scent to their noses. there was a peaceful silence, an atmosphere beyond words. she was watching the scenery, but sylus was watching her. they shared the quiet together.

"what does it feel like to be human?" sylus suddenly asked. she turned to him, her eyes widening. "what do you mean?"

a bittersweet smile appeared on his face as he looked away. he remained silent for a moment. "being human, feeling like them, loving and living like them… what does it feel like?"

she blinked, thinking about how to answer. "it's not much different," she murmured softly, unsure if that was the answer he was looking for. sylus turned his glowing ruby-red eyes to her, a deep sorrow in his gaze. "what do you mean? there must be obvious differences between humans and monsters. i am feared and unwanted, but you are loved."

her eyes widened in surprise, and for a few seconds, she just stared at his face. "monster?"

sylus touched his horns, gripping them as if he wanted to tear them off. "why wasn’t i born as a human?" his voice was strained, as if he were fighting back tears. the hands clutching his horns started to tremble, and he buried his face in his knees. his small body, but most of all, his soul, was in pain. "i can't make myself look human, i can't live like them. but all i ever wanted was to be accepted." and at last, he let his tears fall down his cheeks, unable to hold them back any longer. "maybe then… even you and i could be together…"

her eyes welled up, and she felt like she was drowning in his despair. she couldn't help him; her hands were tied. there was a lump in her throat. she wanted to reach out, to wipe his tears away, to tell him everything would be okay—but what good would it do? she couldn't change how he saw himself. "do you think humans can’t become monsters?" she finally asked.

sylus lifted his head and looked at her, narrowing his eyes. "what do you mean by that?"

she smiled gently and took his trembling hands that were still gripping his horns. "you are everything, but you are not a monster, sylus. you don't have to change for me to be with you. i accept you just as you are. whatever it is that you hate about yourself, i embrace all of it."

as he listened, sylus' eyes widened, filling with even more tears. he wanted to believe she was lying, but the pure honesty in her gaze left no room for doubt.

she smiled and plucked a flower, tying it to his horn. he had cut them over and over again, hurting himself just to look a little more human, but now, a flower was tied to the very thing he once tried to get rid of. it was as if this flower was their symbol. sylus slowly reached up, touching it as if it were the most precious thing in the universe, his fingers tracing its petals carefully.

suddenly, she threw her arms around him, closing her eyes and resting her head on his shoulder. caught off guard, he froze for a few seconds, but then he wrapped his arms around her as well, holding her tightly against him. her hair swayed gently with the breeze, and the flower petals danced around them as if trying to embrace them too.

"thank you," sylus whispered.

"no matter what happens, we will always find each other, and we will never be apart. promise?" she asked, trying to keep her voice serious. sylus smiled softly.

"promise."

21 notes · View notes

mqriuss · 9 hours ago

Text

Tough Day

from 'us, always' collection

recommended to read this, this, this, this and this first | divider by cafekitsune

Haitani Rindou has been following a daily routine for the past seven years.

Is it a peaceful one? No, he's a Lancer—how could it be peaceful?

Wake up, alternate between eating and working, sleep, rinse and repeat. No time for parties, no time for fun. He can't bring himself to have any fun ever since he lost the brother he did basically everything with. The only time he ever finds himself at the club is for a job.

And frankly, he kind of hates it—waking up. He wakes up to an empty apartment, the whirring of flying cars passing by his window, bottles of alcohol he'd down all by himself, and a single plate in the sink that he'd forgot to wash the night before. You'd think his place is a mess, but it actually isn't—it's far from it, even. "Fuckin' older brothers, leaving you to clean up their mess," he'd curse under his breath as he cleans up the living room, knowing damn well he could just let the vacuum bot do it for him but no, he wanted the distraction.

But sleeping wasn't any better. He feels as though he has never gotten proper sleep since becoming a Lancer. On the days he's most exhausted, he falls asleep and has dreams. He dreams of the scary things. He dreams of dying young and gigantic robot spiders devouring him, or another fucked up version of what happened that night. The night he lost his arm, the night he lost his family. Suddenly he's a kid again, but with no one to hold when he jolts awake. On the days he can afford to be on guard, he doesn't dream of anything. It's pitch black and his eyes would shoot open upon hearing the slightest weird noise outside.

Waking up, sleeping—they're equally as dreadful as the other. But he finds himself despising all the times he has to eat. "You gotta eat to live, my guy," Renji once told him on a day he was particularly moody and refused to order anything for dinner. He was just there to get intel from Renji, but the latter insisted. Those were rare times when Rindou had company with his meal. Normally, he'd dine at a table for two and a stranger would come up to him, asking if the other seat was taken.

Rindou stopped eating to live, he ate to survive. With time, taste mattered less to him as well. They got his order wrong? The food was bland? His usual favourite didn't taste the same? It's okay. As long as it was edible, as long as it kept him alive, that was good enough for him.

There are times when he becomes aware of these changes, and it'd put him in a really bad mood. The natural resting bitch face he wore would deepen into a scowl that has his neighbour finally worrying that his TV might be too loud at night—and it is, but Rindou never cared that much. He cared more about how working out, too had became a distraction for him. It was always a good distraction, yes, but it bums him that that's all it was now.

The only remotely good thing about his day is seeing the cat with a scar on its eye around his apartment building, alive and well. "Hey," he'd whisper to the cat, petting its head and being greeted with a cute meow before entering.

Now though? He has you.

He had a hard time picturing the rest of his life with you in it. You just, came out of nowhere. It was weird, really—the idea of having an Aptroid girlfriend. Him of all people—though some would say Rindou is quite likely to have an Aptroid girlfriend. He's a busy man with a dangerous job and lost so much. His family, his youth, his carefree way of living. What better partner for him than one who will stay home, do what he wants, say what he wants to hear, and be nothing less than perfect?

But none of those things came close to the reasons why he's grown fond of you. They were never reasons to begin with.

A little ironic, how the most life Rindou had ever seen in his apartment was the doing of someone who wasn't even human.

There's a piece of you everywhere he looked. He doesn't have much in his wardrobe so he shares it with you, and you have all your favourite colors mixed in with his black, white and occasional dull blues and greens. A small stack of books you liked to read to lull him to sleep sat on the nightstand—not his nightstand, but the one located on the other side of the bed that he bought just for you. A scented candle you liked—one he grew to like too because it masked the lingering scent of alcohol and the bloodstained shirt he'd have to wash after work.

He never realized how much he enjoyed your warmth and the feeling of your weight next to him on the bed until one particular morning. You had woken up early to make breakfast and his eyes fluttered open to see half of his blanket flipped over and an empty space that had started to get cold in your absence. And it wasn't something that always bothered him, it was such a small thing after all.

But all it took to bring you back was him walking up to you in the kitchen, your back turned to him. He had to resist the urge to wrap his arms around you and ask, "Why are you up so early?"

"I'm always up this early," you answered with a smile, plating two omelettes for the both of you.

"Should've slept in some more. We were up pretty late last night," he muttered, rubbing the side of his neck.

"Just say you missed me," you teased, not bothering to look back so you didn't catch the way Rindou gave a small nod.

"Yeah, yeah... now get back here. Work doesn't start that soon for me anyway."

His response made you turn around, both hands occupied with the plates you had picked out online—nicer-looking ones compared to the ones he had before.

"Let's eat first, I'm starving," you said, hearing a rumbling sound—your 'stomach' doesn't rumble. "Well, you certainly are."

Ever since then, you'd always wake him up gently before getting up to do your morning routine. So he doesn't wake up to nothing on your side of the bed.

This was... nice, Rindou thought. Not jolting awake to funny noises at 4am, and actually enjoying rest. It definitely took a while, but he had started letting himself relax more. He lets his vacuum bot clean up the floor, you'd prepare breakfast on most days, and he'd allow himself long showers. It was nice not needing to speed-run a long checklist of chores to do before and after work. Unsurprisingly, his performance at work improved too.

Eating isn't so dreadful anymore either. He had gotten so used to the food of whatever restaurant he passed by on his way home from work, that he never realized how much he misses home-cooked meals.

He remembers so vividly, the first time he ate dinner at home with you. He was eating slower, savoring the taste, your presence. The sight of you sitting on the other chair that was usually empty. It was hard not to look at you.

It may or may not have something to do with you, but he also started taking on "easier" jobs. Ones that still paid well enough, but were quick to finish. And he no longer takes on multiple jobs in a day or arrives home by midnight. When his watch says it's 6pm, it was time to go back home. To you and dinner for two.

So now, as he checks the time and sees it's 7pm, nowhere near home, he finds himself wishing someone would just invent teleportation technology already.

But when he finally reaches his apartment building, he hears a "meow." A very... unrealistic-sounding meow.

Rindou looks down and sees you, crouching down next to the cat that frequented the area and petting its head gently. The meowing came from you in attempts to communicate with the little guy.

"Y/N?"

Your name leaves his lips, finally catching your attention, albeit rather abruptly as you jolted a little. "I told you not to go outside alone," he reminds you when the realization settles in, trying not to look so amused by your defeated expression.

"I wanted to see the cat you told me about last time," you try to reason with him.

"I showed you a photo of it."

"A photo is not enough."

Rindou sighs when you talk back to him—which you've been doing a lot for some reason. "Why didn't you just... stay put and wait for me to come home? We could've gone down together."

"It was getting late. You're late."

His lips purse and he rubs the nape of his neck when you stand up, crossing your arms. "Are you mad?"

Your arms fall almost instantly at that, and you shake your head. "No, I'm not mad," you claim, but he raises an eyebrow at you.

"Really?" He tilts his head.

"Really." You nod yours.

He chuckles as he walks over to you, slipping an arm around your waist to guide you back inside. At the same time, he clicks his tongue at the cat, giving its head a quick pat with his free hand before entering the building with you.

The door slides open after Rindou types in the password and locks automatically once you were both inside. "Would you want to be mad at me?" He asks and you blink, caught off guard. "Just a little bit?" He adds.

You lean against the wall with a shrug. "Maybe."

"Yeah? For what?" He questions you again whilst taking off his coat to hang it.

"For not being home on time for dinner," you answer, and you do so as if you had the answer in mind this whole time.

"And?"

"And making me worry."

Rindou finally turns to face you, and it was only then you noticed the heaviness in his eyes—a bit worse than usual. Tired.

"Sorry,” he murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper as he steps closer, almost closing the space between you. “I’ll text you next time if I’m running late.”

"Tough day?" You ask, matching his tone and he nods. "Hurt anywhere?"

"Nah, I'm fine. See?" He shows you his hands. "Not even a scratch."

"You must be getting stronger then," you say, earning a quiet chuckle.

"Which means you don't have to worry about me so much," he counters, taking your hand in his. For once, his left hand isn't so cold—it was a little warm. He sighs when you shake your head at that. "I promise I won't be late for dinner anymore. Just... please, don't go out on your own."

"But-"

"Even if you're just around the area."

You hesitate before exhaling. "Okay, fine. I'm sorry," you say. "I'll wait for you to come back next time."

Rindou studies you for a moment, as if making sure you mean it. His grip on your hand loosens slightly and his thumb brushes over your knuckles before nodding. "Alright."

"You go take a shower. I'll reheat dinner." You pull away gently, and you barely take two steps when he tugs at your wrist, just enough to stop you. But before you could question what he's doing, he leans in, pressing a kiss to your cheek.

#'us always' collection #tokyo revengers #tokrev #tokyo revengers x reader #tokrev x reader #rindou haitani #haitani rindou #rindou x reader #haitani rindou x reader #rindou haitani x reader #tokyo revengers rindou #tokrev rindou #tr rindou

26 notes · View notes