#just a true psychopath from childhood
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mcmeasle · 10 months ago
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do you ever wonder what Nathan Wesninski was like as a child? I was thinking about this last night.
Obviously there’s an argument that he grew up in a bad household, trauma, etc
(CW: mild discussions of gore)
But isn’t it so much more interesting to imagine he had a healthy, loving home life growing up. Parents who cared and wanted to support him
But he found an early fascination with knives. Burning ants on the sidewalk with a magnifying glass. Crushing bugs between his fingers or ripping their legs off to watch them slowly die. Moving his way up to squirrels and birds. Neighborhood cats and dogs go missing and turn up in the owners driveway days later mutilated.
Seeking out a crowd of people at school he could use as a wall of muscle until he could escalate to further more extreme torment on other students.
Equally charming to all of the faculty and terrifying to other students lower on the food chain. Getting away with things because no one would rat on him out of fear and because they know the faculty wouldn’t believe that Nathan is capable of something like this. He’s a good kid, with good grades, lots of friends, and extracurriculars! He’s student body president!
People wanted to stay on Nathan’s good side, be his “friend” because if you were someone who he deemed valuable, you became untouchable. They’d all also seen how easily he could destroy someone’s reputation and sense of self. Students who ended up on the wrong side of Nathan were never the same again. He wielded both the power of popularity and fear. They were two sides of the same coin to him.
But his parents knew. Deep down. He scared them. The evidence was all around them: bloodied paper towels, smell of rot in the back shed, an unsettling look in Nathan’s eyes when he’d extend sympathies to the owners whose pets were recently found deceased after he’d helped them put up missing pet posters.
By the time they were willing to open their eyes to it, it was too late for them to try and save their kid. And eventually, too late for them to save themselves either.
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lacroixqueen · 5 months ago
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you're too pretty to kill (18+, noncon)
deadpool x fem!reader
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Summary: deadpool was hired to kidnap and kill reader but reader is just too cute so it puts him in a moral dilemma
Pairing: fem!reader x deadpool
Word Count: 2k
Warnings/Tags: bondage, brat, gun kink, gun play, praise kink
You loved days when you could just rollerblade around the city without so much as a care in the world. The feeling of the warm summer breeze running through your hair. Watching as the lights zipped by like dust lost in the wind. You wish you could do this forever. After all, it was your peace, your one true happy place. 
Until it wasn’t. 
Out of nowhere, you felt an arm wrap around your waist and a leather glove holding a handkerchief cover your nose and mouth. 
You tried your best to fight whoever your assailant was back, pulling on his wrist in a desperate attempt to rip it off your face. But before you knew it, you felt your vision blur and your head begin to spin. It felt like the world was melting right before your very eyes. 
Next thing you knew, you woke up to a sea of black. You could feel a piece of fabric cloaking your vision and tied securely behind your head. You tried to move your hand to hoist yourself up, only to find that both your hands were roped together behind your back. You tried to scream into the void, only to find that your mouth was sealed with a piece of tape.
“Mmfffhn!” you managed to sputter out, leaning against what felt like a cold, concrete wall. In fact, it was quite chilly wherever you were. Was it a basement? Warehouse? Regardless, you were shivering from head to toe. The tiny crop top and mini skirt you threw on this morning before going rollerblading was just not cutting it, unfortunately. 
You quickly snapped your head in the direction of what sounded like heavy footsteps and… clapping?
“Well, well, well,” a sly voice rumbled from the opposite end of the room. “Now what do we have here?” 
The unknown person gradually made his way over toward you, knelt before you, and removed your blindfold and gag. 
You looked up, only to lock eyes with what you could only describe as two white ellipses, narrowing ever so slightly amidst the shadows. Your eyes eventually adjusted to the darkness. 
“Such a shame,” your captor sighed to himself. “You’re so pretty too. As in, way prettier than most of my other victims. Normally my clients pay me big bucks to knock out assholes with beer bellies, bad breath, and a name on the registry but you.” He made a rectangle with his thumbs and index fingers as if to take your photograph. “You are perfect.”
“Wh-what are you going to do with me..?” you stammered, almost too afraid to ask. You never took your eyes off of him. He was tall, lanky, even. Dressed in all red and black. You took note of the gun in his holster and the two massive swords strapped behind his back.
“Oh, nothing to write home about,” he assured, ruffling up your hair like you two were childhood best friends. “Well, I guess if you are really dying to know. Someone important wants you dead. So I guess you could say, I, being one of if not the most popular hitmen on the black market, was hired to.. Uh, what’s the word, kill you! Yeahhhh, that sounds about right.”
“I don’t understand,” you muttered to yourself. “All my life, I can’t think of a single thing I did that could possibly warrant this, I mean.. why me?”
“Oh how tragic,” Wade remarked, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear while a tear slowly rolled down your cheek. “I mean, who in their right mind would want to kill someone like you? You are the literal picture perfect definition of the girl next door who wouldn’t hurt a flea. It would take a psychopath to even dream of such a thing!”
You glared at him while he carried on his little performance. “Don’t mock me.”
“Oh.” Deadpool stopped mid-sentence as he lifted up your chin with the tip of his index finger. “So it’s going to be like that, then.”
He leaned back slowly, only to gingerly remove his pistol from its holster. 
“Tell me, Y/N..” he whispered softly. “Have you ever held a gun before?”
“I.. no..” you replied, gasping as he pressed the cold barrel against your cheek. 
“Would you say you’ve ever, oh I don’t know, felt it on your skin?” he teased, dragging it across your neck and collarbone. He took notice of how you swallowed the lump in your throat nervously, and the way your lip quivered ever so slightly. 
“Or what about in your mouth..” his voice suddenly took a dark turn as he shoved the front of the handgun in between your lips, forcing it into the back of your throat. 
You felt your blood run cold. At first, it all felt like some sort of a game. Like one sick, twisted joke. But now, it suddenly became real. 
Wade was absolutely giddy, watching your soft, plump lips part open and accept the icy metal. He liked seeing how your pink tongue was forced still and how you squirmed like a helpless animal he had total control over. And the adorable little noises you made when your mouth was full. It delighted him in a way even he couldn’t explain. 
“Would you say you’ve ever.. choked on one?” he said, barely being able to contain his laughter. Without another word, he pushed the pistol even deeper, causing it to squeeze against your uvula, eliciting your gag reflex. 
“Whghnnn..” you muffled out, trying your best to mentally distance yourself as far away from this entire ordeal as possible. Your mind was racing at a pace you couldn’t keep up with. You were trying to formulate a plan, something, anything to have him show you mercy. 
“Wow, you really are so good at this,” Wade mumbled, not relenting at all as he continued to shove the gun further down your throat. “Definitely better than I thought. Hey, do you like practice or something? Because God, you are a natural! If I weren’t about to kill you right now, I’d hire you on the spot.”
You rolled your eyes at the innuendo. 
Realizing he wasn’t getting any further reaction from you, Deadpool slowly removed the pistol from your lips, watching with glee as a string of saliva connected your tongue from the tip of the barrel. 
He then proceeded to drag the side of the handgun across your chest, over your bare stomach, and finally, resting on the waistband of your skirt. 
“So.. Y/N was it?” Deadpool rambled on, as he played with the pleats of your skirt with his free hand. “Right. You know, I would say I don’t have a lot of weaknesses in this world, wouldn’t you agree? So anyways, after I got mutated and all fucked up from that bastard Francis and became who I am now, there’s very little out there that truly phases me these days. But this..”
He gestured towards your pastel pink miniskirt. “This is something else.” 
And with that, he gently lifted up the cloth with the front of his gun to reveal your lacy magenta underwear.
“A thong! Boooold,” he commented, pressing the cold metal of the barrel right up against your labia. “I was wondering if you were wearing something underneath, and this answers the question. God, that’s hot. You know what’s hotter, though? One of my best friends, Logan. There’s just something so je ne sais quoi about that beautiful man. Anyways.”
Your breath hitched. Suddenly, a wave of goosebumps cascaded over your skin, and it was like the world just stopped making sense. Why did this suddenly feel sort of.. good? Minus the incessant yapping and endless sidetracked one-sided conversation, you wanted more. More of whatever this was. 
And Wade granted your wish. He pulled the fabric of your thong to the side with his other hand and gently prodded your clit with the tip of his pistol. 
He was taken aback when you moaned softly at the sensation. 
“Oh?” he said as he raised an eyebrow.
He pressed the gun even harder onto your pink pearl, eliciting another sigh. 
“Huh. Color me impressed,” he muttered. “This entire time I thought you were fighting for your life but you are actually enjoying this? You dirty little slut! And here I thought you were prim proper little miss perfect..”
“Why.. why are you stopping?” you breathed, a splash of pink brightening up your cheeks, causing him even more of a surprise. “Just keep.. Keep going.”
And to his own dismay, he obliged. 
“How would you feel if I did this?” Wade asked, but before you could even react, he had already shoved the barrel of the gun deep into your cunt. 
You tossed your head back in response, moaning helplessly as he pushed the pistol in and out of your swollen pussy.
“Ah, ah~” you cried out, instinctively spreading your legs open to allow him even more access.
“Now that’s a good girl!” he encouraged, taking note of your subtle invitation and pushing it even harder and deeper than he did before. “Wow. You know, this has been truly enlightening, Y/N. I never in a million years would have guessed you of all people would turn out to be a freak! And you, my friend, are the freakiest of the freaks.”
“I-I am not!” you protested, gasping as you felt the cold steel pushing heartlessly against your walls. “I like normal things too.”
“Uh huh,” Wade said as he continued to fuck your insides relentlessly with his gun. “And I am a three-headed sabertooth tiger named Richard. See? We can all tell lies to ourselves! It’s fun.” 
You could feel yourself practically melting into his hands, your soul floating into the ceiling until you heard it. The click. 
“Well, it has been real Y/N,” Deadpool sighed, his index finger resting comfortably on the trigger. “I mean, I don’t know about you, but I sure as hell had the time of my life! Shit, if we didn’t meet under these circumstances, we absolutely would have hit it off in another reality. As in, I would have fucked you in a multitude of positions in a variety of exotic outdoor locations! Unfortunately, however, the fun and games have to come to an end somehow. I mean, wouldn’t you agree?”
You felt as if your heart was about to both break and jump out of your chest simultaneously. 
“B-but..” you tried to reason with him. Not that it was any use, of course. “I really liked this..”
“I know, babe,” Wade cooed, his free hand snaking up and gripping around your throat tightly. “But if I don’t kill you now, I probably never will because you are just too cute. And sometimes I just can’t help myself but make stupid decisions.”
“Please don’t kill me,” you begged, looking up at him. 
Wade was just about to pull the trigger until you caught his eye.
“Aw, FUCK!” he shouted, immediately removing the gun from your dripping snatch. “Don’t.. don’t do that.”
“Do what?” you inquired innocently, tilting your head to the side. 
“That!” he exclaimed, gesturing towards your face. “Looking up at me with those big, stupid adorable eyes. You know I can’t help myself when you do that.” 
“I have no idea what you are talking about,” you shrugged. “Besides, I thought you had already made up your mind. You sounded pretty sure of yourself after all.”
“You know, you really are a little shit, you know that?” Deadpool fired back, placing his hands on his hips. “God, and this was supposed to be sexy and dangerous, but you totally ruined the atmosphere.”
You smiled to yourself, self-assured in your victory. “Well, does that mean you are going to let me go?”
“Yeah, yeah, go fuck yourself,” Wade responded, untying your ropes and smacking you on the ass as you stood up. “Get out of here before I change my mind.”
Before you walked out of the warehouse, you stood on your tippy toes and gave him a kiss on the cheek over his mask. “Thank you.”
“Go, GO!” he yelled, pushing you towards the exit of the dingy building. “And don’t come back.”
And as soon as you came, you were free. The moonlight poured through the cracks of the tree branches outside and lit up your face. The door slammed behind you in a dramatic fashion. And with that, you finally felt yourself settling into another moment of peace. 
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gurugirl · 1 year ago
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oldest to newest
First Smutty One Shot (3.5k words)
in which Harry wants to buy your albums but then he realizes he wants a little something more from you or where Harry fucks you so you'll calm down
Again & Again (5.4k words)
in which lhh!Harry is your server and he takes you home after girl’s night is over or where lhh!Harry fucks you good, but comes too fast
Gonna Make You Mine (6k words) (mafia!harry)
extra
in which Harry is your boyfriend's boss and he wants to have you for himself or where Harry fucks you in front of your boyfriend
The Work Call (1.3k words)
in which you’re desperate for Harry’s attention when he’s ignoring you on a work call
Too Hard to Keep Quiet (678 words) (boyfriend!harry)
in which you and Harry try to keep it down while having sex in your childhood bedroom down the hall from your family
The Doctor & the Psychopath (9.7k words)
extra
in which Harry is facing serious assault charges and you’re the forensic psychologist tasked with analyzing him or where Harry manipulates you into having sex but you kind of like it
Music For a Festival (896 words)
in which you meet Harry, the lead singer of a local rock band, at a music festival and you bring him back to your tent
Thank You, Next (7.3k words)
extra
in which you are at a club with your very drunk boyfriend and you and Harry spot one another from across the room or where you meet lhh!Harry at a club while you're with your boyfriend and he fucks you in the bathroom
A Public Nuisance (1.6k words) (coworker!harry)
you and Harry are office coworkers and everyone’s out tonight at the local bar celebrating, but you and Harry find yourselves in a rather compromising position
Sex Ed With Harry (7.4k words) (innocent virgin!reader)
in which you’re a sweet, innocent, Christian, virgin and you meet Harry at a college party and he can show you a few things
Dirty & Rough (1.6k words)
reader ask:harry cheats on his gf with you and maybe not necessarily a breeding kink but cream pie kink ?? like, “i’m gonna stuff you so full of my cum”. veryyyy rough and degrading like he’s just using you to get off. “cumdump” etc..maybe he’s quite a bit older than u as well. face slapping, spit kink, as dirty as possible…you get me LOL
I Guess You're All Mine (11.9k words) (friends to lovers)
based on a true story: in which Harry is the hot drummer in your boyfriend’s band and he tells you a secret that changes everything
The Long Weekend (9.8k words) (friends to enemies to lovers)
extra
in which you and Harry hate one another but then things change
The Wedding Guest (4.5k words)
in which you meet Harry at a friend's wedding and show up at his hotel room the next morning to take him up on an offer he made you the night before
Lactation kink (700 words)
reader ask: I don't know if this sounds weird, but you would write one where the reader and Harry had a baby and while she and Harry are having sex, milk starts to come out of her breasts and he starts to suck
The Scientist & the Stripper (15.2k words) (nerd!harry | virgin!harry)
extra #1 | extra #2
in which virgin/nerd!Harry moves in next door to you and you invite him over for a small get together with friends where he gets more than he bargained for at the end of the night
On Halloween Morning (8.7k words) (ghost!harry)
a horror-filled Halloween one-shot. Harry is a ghost and you don't believe in ghostsbut you find out you were dead wrong.
Psoriasis Fluff (652 words)
reader ask: Heyy, how you doinggg!! Could u write smthg abt a reader with psoriasis.. maybe she's insecure to go out in a dress or smthg and harry helps her feel better. Mines been pretty bad recently and I could use some fluffrry (no smut)
Mixed Signals (9.5k words) (best friends to lovers)
bestfriends to lovers one shot - You and Harry have been best friends since you were children and now that you're both adults you can no longer deny the feelings that have been there all along
The Threesome (3.3k words) (Fratboy!Harry)
Harry's hot but he's nice and he's into you tonight
A Delicate Thing (7.6k words) (mafia boss!harry)
extra
Harry is a crime boss and he meets the woman of his dreams on an important night.
Tell Me You Hate Me (12.1k words) (male!reader | enemies to lovers)
Based on this request - You and Harry work together as bartenders and your relationship is hot and cold which infuriates you to no end. But you can't say you don't find him attractive, regardless of his cocky attitude.
The Italy Blurb (1.6k words) (boyfriend!harry)
reader prompt: some plotless smut featuring a little bit of jealous yn riding Harry's tiger & yacht sex.
Bad Morning (3.6k words) (professor!h x professor!yn)
You run late to an important meeting with your colleagues and Professor Styles decides to punish you.
Spiderman (4.2k words) (fratboy!harry | lhh!harry)
You’re at the big Halloween frat costume party and get to flirting with someone dressed as Spiderman. The tall, masked man with a deep voice just so happens to know a private spot to reveal his true identity to you.
The Ex (3.4k words) ex!harry
Harry's your ex-lover and you see him at a wedding after many years apart. You're both married but Harry proposes something that you have a hard time saying no to.
Nympho (4.5k words) nympho!poly!harry
Y/n is a nymphomaniac who just loves people. One day she happens upon a "harem" arrangement that seems perfect for her and her insatiable appetite. Loosely based on this Tumblr request.
Harry bruises your cervix - blurb (450 words) husband!harry
A quick filthy, requested blurb. Nothing more and nothing less.
Next Door Neighbors (7.8k words) neighbor!harry
Part 2 (5k words)
You just wanted peace and quiet and Harry just wanted to jam out in his garage for his birthday. So you decide to confront your new neighbor but things don't go as you planned.
The Fleshlight Blurb (1.5k) subrry
Harry has to go on a business trip without Y/n so she gets him a special toy to use while he's away and she tells him to send her a video of him using it.
The Handyman (11k words) the check-in (3.6k)
When you inherit your aunt's estate after she passes away, you hire Harry to fix up the old house but that's not all he winds up being good for.
Breeding Kink Blurb (587 words)
Requested - just straight up smut
Sex Tutor (10k words) Part II (13k+ words)
Harry's got a reputation on campus and you're curious to know if he can help you.
Daddy's Pretty Girl | dom!daddy!h (4.4k words)
Harry just wants to make his princess happy OR The story of you and Harry, how you met, and all the rest.
The Trio (3k words)
Three strangers meet at a club and things get sexy. Featuring a MMF threesome.
Baby Daddy (14k words)
After you have a one-night stand with your good friend Harry and become pregnant he doesn't know for certain that the baby is his, but he has his suspicions.
Little Flower (4.5k words)
You're startled during a power outage late one night when your co-worker, Harry, is at your door, drenched from the rain. How does he even know where you live?  dark!harry | stalker!harry
Use Me Up (7k)
Harry's your boyfriend's best friend and he's very hard to resist. boyfriend's best friend!harry
Assistance Needed (3k)
Harry finds himself in an awkward position when you walk in on him in his office just as he's in the middle of something quite improper. ceo!harry x assistant!reader
The Babysitter (2k)
PART 2 (2.5K)
Based on this request: The cute babysitter Harry's wife hired has always tempted him, but now that his wife is away for the evening Harry might just give in. dad!harry x babysitter!reader
She Likes To Watch (4.8k)
Harry and his wife have an interesting lifestyle but when they invite you over for a night of fun you realize you're more into it than you thought you'd be. hothusband!harry
Truth or Dare (6.7k)
Based on this request: Harry's never been to a slumber party so Y/n decides to remedy that and give him a sleepover he'll never forget.
The Mushroomer | friendly!ghost!harry (11.5k)
Based on this request: Y/n moves into a small house in the woods and she soon realizes the house is haunted. But it really turns out to be not so bad at all to have a ghost when he's as kind as the one living with her.
Says Who? | demonrry (3.1k)
A Halloween Blurb! Y/n goes to an underground club and meets the devil and she'll never ever forget it.
DILF | older!harry (6.5k)
Based on this request: Y/n meets an older man at a bar and she's not taking no for an answer. Harry likes her persistence.
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kasagia · 6 months ago
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Dancing with the devil IV
Pairing: Na-Baron Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x fem! royal!reader Summary: Unknowingly, you fall into a trap from which it will be difficult to get out. The only solution seems to be to make a pact with the devil himself. A devil who seems all too happy to finally get his hands on you. Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen's Masterlist ~•♤♤♤•~Main Masterlist ~•♤♤♤•~ PART III ~•♤♤♤•~ PART V ~•♤♤♤•~
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“It's a refreshing change. Don't you think, Y/N?” Your friend inquires as you sit on the windowsill, gazing out at the landscape of Kaitain.
You hum, nodding your head, keeping your watchful gaze on the ramp where the next ships are landing. A shiver runs through you as you recognise the familiar black Harkonnen orb. Whoever designed their ships must have worked hard to even make them look... disquieting. Y/F/N notices what you are staring at.
"Don't worry." You comfort her and hold her hand. "I won't let you marry that brute. There is no worse fate than being Harkonnen's wife."
"It's not that… just if it was someone else. Na-Baron, for example." You tense slightly at her mention of Feyd. Your eyes follow hers, and you notice her staring at him longingly as he walks out, surrounded by his soldiers. You feel bile rising in your throat.
"Na-Baron?" You ask stupidly, trying to ignore the sudden, unexpected feeling of jealousy. Which, of course, was a pure act of stupidity on your part. Because how could you be jealous of Harkonnen? And yet, you felt like gouging out your friend's eyes for staring at your Feyd for too long.
"He... isn't that bad at all. Despite what they say about him. He cared about me there - on Giedi Prime. In their crazy way... but thanks to him, the stay there wasn't so... terrible." You tense up and roll your eyes at her words.
As if there could be angels on Giedi Prime. As if HE could be something more than the cunning devil who breaks hearts, takes the souls and lives of innocent people. As if he could be something more than a bloodthirsty sadist raised by the most disgusting man who ever lived.
"Believe me, it's just a facade. The moment you let your guard down, he will show you his true colors. And this is a far cry from the image of his personality he painted in your head. He wants you to consider him your ally. This way, it will be easier for him to use you for his own benefits. Spying on his brother or something like that, I'm not sure yet. Maybe he's also looking for sexual release after his harpies are dead?"
"Y/N!"
"What? I'm just thinking out loud." You reply with a shrug. Your gaze remains focused on Na-Baron. Princess Irulan welcomes him and his brother rather reluctantly. She behaved quite similarly towards you. Except for her special coldness and malice reserved for you, to which you had become accustomed by now.
"You must know him very well to see through his intentions so quickly. I also remember that as children you were often in the company of him, Paul Atreides and Princess Irulan."
You flinch when Na-Baron's gaze suddenly turns to the palace. But you know it's impossible for him to recognise your silhouette among the palace's many windows... or at least you hoped so. Regardless, you decide not to tempt fate and walk away from the window, turning around to face your friend.
"That was a long time ago."
"But you must know him very well. Or at least the child he was."
"Trust me, he was never a child." You reply, pouring yourself a glass of wine. You don't want to tell her anything else.
You don't want to explain to her exactly when Feyd lost his childhood, when he stopped being your friend and the boy you played with, when you lost him, when the place of the charming boy from Lankiveil was taken by the bloodthirsty, psychopathic, brutal Na-Baron of Giedi Prime. Because only you knew the Prince of Lankiveil. And the memory of him will follow you to your grave.
Because you knew there was no salvation for him, that the boy you gave your heart to was dead, and his murderer was none other than the Baron. And all you have left of him is a shell. The one he gave you and the shell of who he once was were a living and painful reminder of what you lost because of the Baron and Princess Irulan. And because of your own fear.
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"I'm bored." You tell Feyd as you sit next to each other in the feast hall.
Your parents, his brother, and his uncle are celebrating with the other great families the birth of the Emperor's (another) daughter, and you and the rest of the children are forced to attend the event until your maids take you away.
And this has been going on for you for ages.
"Act like a lady and don't whine." Feyd responds to you, rolling his eyes at you slightly. You punch his arm, causing him to gasp and look at you indignantly.
"Act like a child and don't talk to me like you're my mother."
"What do you want to do?" He sighs, shaking his head at you.
If he had to list his weaknesses, you would definitely be the first of them on his list. He was always waiting for the moment where he could free himself from Giedi Prime and his uncle's gaze to spend a few minutes with you. You gave him... a sense of freedom. With you, he didn't have to worry about how he acted—whether he was too soft or too lenient.
He could have just been a child for a while—a boy from Lankiveil he had almost forgotten about. A boy you seemed to like quite a lot. And he tried his hardest to show you that he was still able to find in himself nooks and crannies that weren't polluted by the Baron. Mentally and physically.
"To sleep. But I don't have my teddy bear and blanket." Feyd tries his best not to laugh, but he allows his mouth to open slightly, making sure to keep it closed.
He didn't want to scare you with his black teeth—an addition recently introduced on Baron's orders. Feyd couldn't quite get used to them yet. He remembered breaking all the mirrors in his chambers the first day he saw his new row of black teeth. Over time, however, he got used to them, like everything else on Giedi Prime.
"What?" You ask as he stares at you for a few too many seconds or minutes. Feyd clears his throat and manages to lower the corner of his mouth.
"Nothing. I may be not as soft as your precious teddy bear and blanket, but I can keep you warm. And my cloak is... possibly the coziest thing I have." He answers awkwardly, already taking off his coat. He wraps it around you without waiting for your response, remaining in his black military armor.
He knows that the next day he will have scrapes and bruises from too tight armor. He should have gotten a bigger one a long time ago, but the Baron seemed to insist that Feyd keep his old clothes for as long as he could.
"You allow me to nuzzle up to you?" You ask, surprised, as he wraps his arm around you.
Feyd didn't particularly like physical contact; sometimes he flinched when someone's skin touched his—a reaction he tried to hide. However, apart from you, there was one other person who also noticed it. And while Feyd should have hated the Atreides, he would remain forever grateful to Letto Atreides, who had invited him to spend the summer with his son, you, and Princess Irulan shortly after Rabban and he had moved to Giedi Prime. It was the best summer of his life since leaving Lankivieil. A moment of respite.
However, with you, sometimes he could afford to feel your body a little closer to him. Most of all, he WANTED to feel your body press against his. Which, over the years spent on Giedi Prime, was a very rare, even unheard of feeling for him.
"I allow you to rest on me and take a nap. My mother... my mother did this a lot with my father when she was pregnant and had to sit in on these meetings." Feyd says he has vague memories of his mother being pregnant with her third child and how his father acted towards her—before all hell broke loose on Lankiveil, when he could still be... normal.
"But I am not pregnant. And we are not married." You point it out maliciously, but your head is already falling onto his shoulder. You wrap your hand around his waist and snuggle into him. Feyd suppresses a blush as you unconsciously nuzzle his neck and inhale his scent. You were too innocent to know what it did, and he was too tainted for his body not to react to it. Despite everything, he controls himself and holds you, making sure you don't fall out of your chair.
"But you are tired, aren't you?" He hums against your ear, fully aware that you're about to drift off into his arms. And that he would rather kill himself than let anyone take you away from him.
"I am. And I also never miss a chance to hug you, my grumpy Na-Baron." He furrows his hairless eyebrows, unconsciously tracing patterns on your arm with his finger. He relaxes, seeing that his uncle has left the party. So did the young servant who served him. A shiver runs through him, but he ignores it. His focus is on you. On your slow breathing, on your smell, on your warmth, on how perfect you feel next to him, as if you were his missing half. And Feyd allows himself to believe for a moment that this may be the case—that you are truly written in the stars for him.
"I am not grumpy." He says, rolling his eyes at your taunt and completely ignoring Princess Irulan's glare from across the room.
"You are. Like those funny green creature from Paul's book. You know, the old one with weird pictures."
If Feyd could, he would forbid you from meeting Atreides. Unfortunately, your parents seemed to insist on this special closeness to this family. And you loved reading. Same as Paul. Feyd's only consolation was that when Atreides didn't have a book in his hand, he lost any interest in you. Unlike him. He had your attention, regardless of what he was doing or what he might be giving you at that moment.
"Sleep." He mumbles and presses a kiss to your tample.
"Don't tell me what to do. I am not your wife." You mumble, half asleep, but you give in to him anyway and fall asleep on him. You press your cheek against his shoulder, and he begins to worry that his hard armour might accidentally leave a scratch on your cheek. He gently lifts your head and places his hand under your cheek to make sure you don't feel any sharp, protruding metal decorations.
"You are not... but you will be." He promises, fully convinced that you're already asleep and don't hear his little promise. He tightens his hand around you and listens to your calm breathing and heartbeat, wishing that he could listen to this beautiful music every day. Not only during boring balls that you both hate.
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You sigh, wiping the sweat from your forehead. Your maid gives you a horrified look as you lunge at the mannequin in the training room. Stabbing the puppet several times with your blade, taking out your frustration and energy on him.
When you feel the air moving behind you and the added presence, you don't hesitate. You turn around, your blade colliding with Feyd's, and glare at him in response to his cocky smirk.
"I see that old habits die hard. Why don't you accept a real challenge instead of taking out your anger at this motionless pile of threads?"
"Why don't you do it instead of tormenting Atreides' drugged soldiers? At least I don't get dirty while playing with my motionless pile. Not like you." You say, stepping away from him. You let the hand with your dagger fall as you walk over to the table for a drink of water. You freeze, feeling the cool tip of his steel against your throat.
"How many times have I told you not to turn your back on your opponent? Besides..." He steps closer, his chest pressing against your back as he leans in to whisper in your ear. "Did you have the same fun with my harpies? Didn't you want to get dirty, and that's why you chose poison to kill them? And you accuse me of being a bloodthirsty, jealous beast... I guess we're more alike than you want to admit, my little, beautiful, dangerous, jealous swan."
"I… I have no idea what you're talking about." You whisper, tensing in his arms. Out of the corner of your eye, you notice that you're alone in the room. He must have gotten your maid out of there somehow. You suddenly feel very vulnerable.
"You do not have? And that's funny. So why did I find a poison in your things the day after they died and just before your departure?" You frown and push his hand with the blade away from you. You turn to look him in the eye, too surprised by his accusation to do anything but say the truth.
"I have no idea. Whatever happened to them, it wasn't me. You know very well that I wouldn't kill anyone." This clearly catches him off guard, and you feel offended that he could be so sure that you took someone's life just because they had the opportunity to fuck him. You roll your eyes at him in annoyance and raise your blade in challenge. You might as well exercise a little while he does his investigation.
"Well… after all, swans don't like getting their beautiful feathers dirty with blood… but who else could do it?" He responds, dodging and blocking all your attacks.
You work harder, jumping away from him and trying to break through his protective shield. You sigh as you manage to get the blade close to his skin, but no telltale shield appears around him. The son of a bitch didn't even put his shield on when fighting you. No one could piss you off and humiliate you at the same time more than him.
"I don't know. I don't care." You growl, pushing against him and trying to draw his black blood at all costs.
You manage to kick him in the stomach, but when he falls, he drags you with him. You land on top of him, but he quickly changes your positions and pins you to the floor beneath him, keeping your wrists in a tight grip as he presses his blade to your neck.
"Do you? Doesn't it make you jealous just thinking that someone could be madly in love with me enough to get rid of the women who give me pleasure? What if you're next on my secret, deadly admirer's little list?" He whispers in your ear, and you shiver as he bites his lobe. He throws his blade aside, his other hand lazily exploring your body, abusing your breast as he squeezes it tightly and digs his fingers into it.
"We have no connections." You moan as his lips move to your jawline. He sucks gently, leaving no trace except a trail of his black saliva as it moves to your exposed neck.
"Not in public. But in the quiet of the night, in your gardens, of my corridors, of the halls of this palace—all these places remember many of our connections."
Unfortunately, he is just as stubborn, maybe even more stubborn than you, and he will do anything to prove that he is right. You gasp, biting your lip, as his hand goes under the fabric of your pants. Your traitorous pussy welcomes his fingers like a permanent resident. You tighten around him, and he chuckles lightly, feeling you already wet. You dig your knee into his stomach, trying to fight back, but he just positions himself between your legs, casually pushing your leg away as if it were just an intrusive, insignificant obstacle to getting what he wants.
"And yet you run from one man to another… but it's my fingers that fill you while you wait for someone to put a ring on your pretty feathers, my little swan." He mumbles against your neck.
You shiver as he pushes his fingers deeper into you, his cold metal Na-Baron signet teasing your warm, wet walls, only making you clench tighter around him.
His hips grind against you madly, his hard length pressing into your thigh as you moan softly, trying miserably to keep from making any grinding sound when all you want to do is feel him deep inside you, splitting you open for him.
"And you… you're pathetic for always looking for me and coming back." You respond, feeling your pleasure building within you. You grind away from him, angling his fingers just right, deciding that since you were already in this position, you might as well show him that you were using him and not him using you. After all, you were always the one who came, not him.
"I am." Surprisingly, he nods, caressing your clit with his thumb as the rest of his fingers penetrate you mercilessly. "And you come pathetically beautiful with my name on your swollen lips. We are both humiliating each other. And we both love it." And that's exactly when he pushes you over the edge. You lift up and connect your lips in a kiss to stop yourself from screaming his name, knowing full well that the guards are outside and could… really guess what happened between you behind closed doors.
You admit to yourself that you loved his plush, soft, full lips on yours, the way he caressed yours, the way his tongue slipped in unnoticed, you loved kissing him. His kisses made you more addicted to him than the orgasms he gave you. That's why you made sure you had them very rarely. Because no one else's mouth has ever given you as much pleasure as his.
In the frenzy of the kiss, he releases your wrist and cups his hand around your cheek. You sigh, biting his lower lip. This is the only warning you give him before you plunge your dagger into his back.
He screams as your blade pierces his skin. Your fingertips are sticky with his thick, black blood, but you don't care. You look him straight in the eyes and rip the dagger from his body, giving him another wave of pain.
"How many times have I told you to never let your guard down?" You ask, using the exact same tone he used as soon as he held the knife to your neck.
You push him away from you and stand up, straightening your clothes a little. He laughs hoarsely and shakes his head in disbelief, still looking at you and ignoring the burning pain in his back. He had wounds worse than a swan's bite.
He comes to you on his knees and takes your fingers into his mouth, sucking his black blood from them and never taking his eyes off you. You dig your fingers into the skin of his pale scalp and tilt his head back, breathing quickly as you melt into the gaze of his cold, oceanic irises and dilated pupils. You can't fucking believe he got so turned on by your stabbing. And that you, too, felt hot again.
"You are sick." You whisper as he lets your fingers pull out with a loud pop. His now gray saliva had replaced his black blood.
"Just like you."
Before you can deny it, the door to the training room creaks loudly. You pull Feyd up, forcing him to stand up, and you wipe his saliva off your fingers on your shirt.
"Michael. You always know when to come. Na-Baron and I were training and unfortunately he got injured."
"Yhm... very unfortunately." Feyd mumbles sarcastically. When you go to Michael, you step on Feyd's foot. You pretend it never happened and join the man's side. He smiles at you, his two-toned eyes hypnotising you for a moment, and a huge smile appears on your lips. Out of the corner of your eye, you see Feyd frowning. There is no better feeling than rubbing salt into someone's wound.
"Always here for you, my love." He says and places a kiss on your forehead. "You should go to the healers, Na-Baron. We wouldn't want such a small wound to do a serious harm to your health. After all, soon we will be celebrating... important events." Michael says this and wraps his arms around my waist, pressing me against him.
"Of course." Feyd growls and nods. He walks away, leaving the two of us alone in the training room, and closes the door loudly behind him.
"He insisted that I train with him. Believe me, I would never…"
"When you will be my wife I won't allow you to do such things." He interrupts your attempt to explain himself and takes your dagger, which is covered in Feyd's blood, from you. He throws it into a box of various weapons and turns back to you.
"Excuse me?" You ask, both surprised and annoyed by his condescending behavior.
"No worry, sweetheart. You are still learning." You feel like he slapped you. He treats you so condescendingly, as if you meant absolutely nothing, as if your opinion was not important to him at all. This sudden change surprises you and makes you even more nervous. However, you cannot understand the reason for his sudden rude behavior. Was it jealousy?
"You know usually women after such a... blunt statment doesn't marry the man who said it."
"Oh, you think you will have a choice?" He asks mockingly and plays with your hair, fixing your hairstyle to his liking. You push his hands away from you and glare at him furiously.
"Won't I?" You ask defiantly, raising an eyebrow at him.
"After my people attack your home planet? I don't think so."
"I beg you pardon?" You ask, completely shocked. He lazily, casually reaches for your chin and lifts it to look at you closely.
Your brain races like crazy, trying to ignore the fatigue in your muscles from fighting the Na-Baron as you wonder if he's just joking with you or if he really means what he said. A shiver passes through you when his fingertip brushes against your cheek.
"I told you. I want to achieve something. To prove myself in the eyes of the emperor. As we speak, my troops are boarding the ships on my home planet. Tomorrow morning, your father will receive notice of the start of war with my country. And you, darling, you will be a beautiful spoil of war. The proof of my greatness."
"You... all those meetings with me on my home planet... you didn't want to marry me; you wanted to explore and review our fortifications and the training of our soldiers. Test the ground before sending your men on my land."
"Your father's lands. You may be smart, honey, but you're only a woman. All you have is a title and a royal pussy. Although your mind and beauty are a dangerous combination. Maybe I should make you my wife instead of a concubine?"
"You… you can't… you won't." You shake your head, trying to deny what he just said. He couldn't just take everything from you, your whole life.
You try to control your emotions and not give him the satisfaction of completely destroying your world. He makes you feel so guilty; after all, you were actually the one who let him onto your planet and showed him around all the places he wanted. How could you be so stupid and naive? How could you not sense that he was more interested in your military and the weak points of your planet than in you?
"Oh, honey... don't insult your own intelligence now. You know very well that I can. You have nothing. No allies, no strong friend. I am your only serious admirer since Atreides. You're lucky I'm a gentleman. I will not touch you until your land, crown, and title are officially mine. And I will give you a good future. You could always end up in a brothel. Don't be a brat and appreciate it, my beautiful war booty."
His touch burns you in an unpleasant way. You want to bite off his hand, but you need to get more information from him to prepare some kind of action plan. You need to lower his guard just as he lowered yours.
"Why are you doing this? If you had married me, you would have had it anyway. Without any war."
"I told you. I want to prove my worth. To achieve something. In small steps. First, I will conquer one planet, then another. You have the honour of being my first conquest. And who knows? Maybe you'll even become empress by my side. Now smile nicely, darling. Your depressed face is ruining my mood."
So you smile. You put on a good face for a bad game and try to control your anger and despair. Because what can you do with them now? Nothing at all. You needed a different approach. Better. Smarter. You couldn't just give up your future without a fight; let him take over your country and do what he wanted to you. If you were going to be someone's property, wife, trophy, or whatever, you wanted to decide who it would be.
Michael was wrong. You had one secret ally who was much stronger than him. But you know very well that asking him for help will cost you a lot. Unfortunately, you were not in a good situation. You were in a hopeless position. So it required you to take desperate, risky, and embarrassing measures. This required making a pact with the devil himself.
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" I need to talk with you." You say this as soon as the door opens for you, before you change your mind and run away. You tug at the sleeve of your silk robe and stare pleadingly into the ocean irises before you.
"At this time? What do I owe this pleasure to?" He mocks you, crossing his arms over his bare chest. You swallow, looking away from his muscles and back into his eyes.
"Feyd. Please." You say this seriously, looking around to make sure no one sees you at his door. He tenses a little, hearing the desperation in your voice. Wordlessly, he moves to the side, allowing you to step inside.
He closes the door behind you, and you shudder as you realise there's no going back. You close your eyes, taking a few deep breaths and trying to calm down. Feyd furrows his hairless eyebrows at your condition. He walks over to you and tentatively places a hand on your shoulder, not used to comforting... anyone. Not since the two of you were kids.
"Y/N. What happened?"
"I need your help." You reply and move away from him. Feyd sees you trying your hardest to control your emotions. The same way that even though he's happy about your late-night visit and the sight of you in that skimpy robe, you look terrified and disgusted that you have to be here.
"Y/N..."
"Michael wants to attack my home planet and dethrone my father. In the process, make me his whore or wife. He's not sure yet." You interrupt him and blurt it out before he says anything else.
This stuns Feyd for a moment as he takes in this new information. He would have smiled at the mockery and anger in your voice if his blood hadn't boiled at the thought that you could belong to anyone other than him. That anyone else would have the right to touch you like he did and has long dreamed of doing even more.
"Your duke that you've been parading around with and admiring for the last few months? The same one you hug and cling to at every recent party?"
"Yes."
"The one you gave the right to hold you and kiss you?"
"Yes."
"The one..."
"YES! This one!" You interrupt him, annoyed and embarrassed. You sigh, rubbing your eyes, and realise that screaming at him and venting your anger isn't the best idea right now if you want to ask for his favour. "Please, help me."
"And what I can do? You chose your fiancé. Or a lover. Whatever. What do you want me to do? Fight with him for your hand? And then get rejected by you? Thrown away when you don't need me anymore?" He mocks you, turning his back on you. He pours himself a glass of wine and sips it leisurely, making no move to turn towards you.
"Feyd. Please. I beg you. I... my people can't die just because of the whim of some man." You say, your voice cracking. Your throat burns from the dryness, and tears suddenly appear in your eyes. This is a very strange phenomenon considering that you have been crying for the last three hours in your chambers.
Your sniffling makes Feyd involuntarily turn back to you. This is a bad move. His heart clenches uncomfortably at the sight of your watery eyes and red nose. He wants to take you in his arms, run his hand through your hair tenderly, and sink into your touch.
"You know very well, little swan, that this is how most wars start. By the whim of one man." Feyd says, crossing his arms over his chest to somehow keep from touching you, from taking you in his arms and burying his face in your hair, whispering comforting words in your ear. He had to play this... unique opportunity well. If he won't have you willingly, he might as well have you by trick.
"I will do everything." He does everything not to smile, not to immediately make his demands. He has been waiting so long to have you that a few minutes more won't do a big difference to him.
"So get ready for the husband of your own choosing." He says icily, acting unfazed, as if the mere thought of someone else having you didn't make him want to murder every man who ever had the chance to touch you.
As if he didn't dream at night of having you by his side, of arguing with you every day, of having you with him forever on Giedi Prime, sitting on the throne next to him and being as terrifying as he is.
"Feyd..." You mumble and walk over to him. Feyd tenses, controlling all his muscles, stopping them from making the slightest movement towards you.
He watches your every move carefully as you approach him. The air between you is thick and full of tension. He swallows when you come within his reach and tries his best not to even touch you with his fingertip. However, all his control is put to the test when you stand directly in front of him and lean towards him.
Feyd clenches his fists tightly, so tightly that he feels the blood slowly seeping from where his nails dig into his abalaster skin. The familiar scent of you and your favourite perfume reaches his nostrils, and Feyd does the stupidest thing he can do at that moment. He closes his eyes and inhales deeply into your sweet, seductive scent.
"You can have me. Right now. Wherever you want. However you want. Wouldn't you like to? All you have to do is order some troops to my home planet and scare off Michael's army." You whisper into his ear, brushing your lips against his lobe. Feyd holds his breath as your lips trace his jawline and up to his neck, where you begin to kiss and suck his skin.
Feyd stands frozen, unable to move, allowing you to do whatever you want with him. He sighs as your two long, delicate hands slip under his black robe and caress his chest. His heart is racing as you play with his nipples, pinching them and twisting them in your fingers as you work tirelessly to leave as many marks on his neck as possible. He grunts, trying to stifle a groan as he feels his manhood respond to your caresses and begin to harden painfully.
He reaches for your hips and pulls you closer to him, and Feyd would probably give in to his desires if he didn't feel you tense up under his touch. He sighs and musters all his willpower to grab your arms and pull you away from him.
"You can't just... kiss me, come into my chambers dressed like that at this hour, and demand such things from me when all you show me is hatred and loathing. Don't act like a whore. I won't fall for it. I… not when I know you don't mean anything that you are doing right now." He says this without meeting your eyes, somehow unable to see your reaction. He lets go of you, as if touching you hurts him, and walks to the other side of his chamber, escaping to the balcony.
A cold breeze hits his skin. He sighs, gripping the railings tightly and holding on to them with all his might, as if crushing the marble in his hands would bring his full self-control back.
It doesn't take a minute for your scent to hit his nostrils again.
"And how I should act?! What do you think I can do?!" You shout after him, walking towards him. Feyd tenses, sensing your presence behind him, but makes no move to turn towards you. You sigh in defeat, and Feyd thinks you've given up when suddenly he hears your shaky voice and your pure panic as you try to convince him to help you one last time. "My people will die tomorrow morning, I… I'm begging you. Please, I will do anything, Feyd. Whatever you want."
"Then marry me." He replies, his back still turned to you as he stares into the distance at the Kaitain hills in front of him.
Even though he can't see your face, he can clearly hear the gasp of shock you let out. He imagines your beautiful, full lips falling open, your eyes widening, and you holding your breath as you process his words. He knew that this was the only way for now to ensure his right to you—to make a claim. He had too little time to try to change your opinion of him.
When you're finally "safely his", then Feyd can try to fight for your affections and prove that he is not the monster you think he is. For now, your anger will have to be enough for him. But he would eventually melt it. You loved him once; when you were kids, he might try to make you feel this way about him again.
"What?" You ask, shocked. Feyd slowly turns towards you, and this time he takes a step closer to you, making you both breathe the same air again.
"You have two options. You can agree to... your Michael's terms, marry him and be his property for the rest of your life... or you will marry me and I will protect you, your parents and your people from anyone's invasion." He replies calmly and unfazed, keeping his hands behind his back.
"And be yours property for the rest of my life?" You ask mockingly, almost furiously, with that gleam of mischief in your eyes that Feyd loved so much. This was his little swan. Finally.
It might have been nice to have your mouth and hands on him, but in your case, he didn't want forced submission. He wanted just that blazing fire that captivated him, where he could burn himself if he made one wrong move. He wanted it all... even if he had to gently steer you down the right path—down the altar to him and only him.
"Don't pretend to be so disgusted. We both know how you love some... aspects of being my property. A moment ago you were begging me, saying you would do whatever I wanted. Marry me then. What would you say?"
"I... you know I have no other optiom... neither time to assure I will have any other option. But we also know that I don't trust you and never will." He nods, knowing full well that trust will be the last thing he gets from you. But if Feyd valued anything in life, it was his honor.
"You have my word. I will protect your people as mine. Even better. My uncle or brother or I will never order to attack your home planet. You would became one of our closest ally and thus ensure your country the safety against anyone's invasion. It's a win win situation."
"And how you will win?"
"I will get you." He replies with a shrug, as if it were an obvious reward.
He sees the gears in your head turning as you silently consider all the consequences and benefits of marrying him. He knew clearly that this wasn't what you wanted, that your search for a husband was supposed to be completely different, that he was probably the last man you wanted as a husband, from whom you wanted a nice ring, whose planet you wanted to move to, but Feyd had been waiting for you for so long; he did so much to have you that the circumstances of your marriage didn't really matter to him anymore.
"You will get bored of me. You can't love or trust, not trully or neither can be loved or trusted by anyone else. You know that what's going on between us won't be sexy anymore when it will be no longer forbidden." Your words somehow hurt him more than the worst wound he received. He grunts, clenching his fists behind him, waiting for the unexpected, unpleasant lump in his throat to subside so he can somehow respond to your blasphemous words.
"That's how you see your future husband?" He finally asks, glad that he managed to keep his voice from shaking.
"I didn't say yes to anything yet."
"But we both know you will. You have tied hands. And we both know that you can't dance with them for a long, before you fall." His comment makes you even more furious. Feyd does his best not to smirk at your flushed cheeks and pursed lips. Oh, how he wanted to kiss those lips so much…
"Yes... but you can put chains on them instead of ropes and I will be even worse tied." You respond calmly, carefully analysing his words, looking for a trap—a hidden intention behind his actions beyond his obvious desire to marry you.
"I guess you have to take a risk." He replies calmly, shrugging his shoulders.
"Hmm. Such a convinient situation for you." You mutter, crossing your arms. His eyes automatically fall on the valley of your breasts, but he quickly tries to return his attention to your eyes. If everything goes his way, he'll soon be able to caress every inch of your body he wants.
"Very much. I got to call you my wife and all I have to do is to scare away some lord's family who shouldn't even touch you in the first place."
"I decide who touch me." You say, angry that he hasn't even put a ring on your finger yet, and he's already forbidding you from doing something.
"Not for long I guess."
He sees you biting your lip in anger. You take a step towards him, and Feyd thinks you're going to slap him, but you do something completely different. You cup his cheek in your hand and lean in to whisper in his ear:
"I hate you so much. With whole my heart. If you think this will somehow change my opinion of you, you are wrong. I feel exactly the same about you, and maybe even worse things than what I told you on Giedi Prime. You are the baron's spoiled nephew who only has to snap his fingers to get something. I hate you and I will hate you forever, no matter what you do, no matter how well you fuck me, how good or bad of a husband you are, my feelings towards you will remain the same as they are now." And with that, you press your lips to his, sealing your promise with a sudden, unexpected kiss.
Feyd moans into your mouth, feeling himself start to get hard again, which should be absurd in this situation, but he remembers times when he was aroused by… worse things.
"Is that a yes?" He asks, swallowing thickly as your lips leave his—too quickly for Feyd to enjoy the taste and softness of them.
"What the fuck do you think I can do in this situation?" You growl at him angrily, at which he smiles, unable to stop himself, showing you his row of black teeth. Surprisingly, you don't tremble in fear or disgust.
"I want to hear it."
"And I want a decent proposal." You reply in return, forever trying to argue with him.
You're surprised when he walks past you and goes back to his room. You stand alone on the balcony for a moment, taking a shaky breath and staring at the stars in the sky, wondering how the hell you ended up in this situation. Just a week ago, the idea of marrying Feyd would have seemed completely absurd to you.
You freeze in shock when he comes back with a small black box and actually kneels down in front of you.
"Y/N Y/L/N. The darkness of my life, the bane of my existence, the ghostly apparition that haunts my dreams, the heartless witch, the murderous siren, the deceptive nymph leading me to my death, will you do me an honour of beeing my wife and let me fuck our heirs into you?"
You would have smiled at this if his icy blue eyes weren't piercing through yours and carefully analysing your every little reaction. You don't even look at the ring he's offering you—a ring he clearly must be wearing somewhere close to himself. Your heart is racing, despite the fact that this isn't exactly the proposal you wanted. Despite everything, it is... in a strange and twisted way, a nice feeling.
"You could try better." You finally reply in a hoarse voice, suddenly aware of how dry your throat is.
"I am waiting for an answer." He growls, really waiting for your response.
If it weren't for the nature of the whole situation, you'd actually think it was cute. The way the most dangerous man in the world kneels before you, asking for your hand. You sigh, mentally preparing yourself before signing a pact with the devil.
"With great disgust and reluctance: yes."
"Yes what?"
"Haven't you already had your fun?" You ask, frowning furiously. He bites his tongue to keep from giggling, absolutely loving to tease you.
"I didn't even start, my little swan." You roll your eyes at him and look at him expectantly, sticking out your hand. But he makes no move to put the ring on it. You decide not to fight him on this one matter.
"Yes. I will marry you, Feyd-Rautha."
You can see from his face that he is remembering these words and that he is taking a mental picture of this moment. He takes the ring out of the box and, with unusual gentleness for him, takes your hand in his and slides the metal onto your finger.
The ring is nice. Made of white gold, its eyelet is a black onyx stone, which is held by engraved flowers on a metal ring. It was… astonishingly beautiful and thoughtful. And not as big as you assumed it would be. Y/F/N got a ring with a gemstone on half of her finger. You're surprised Feyd didn't give you something similar.
"There. Was that so hard?"
It's a tricky question. Because, as much as that ring weighed on your finger, you couldn't admit that you hated the whole idea of marrying him with all your heart. After all, you could do worse than him... right?
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Taglist for Feyd: @avidreader73
Taglist for DWTD: @iloved1lfs0 @heartarianagran @hueanhdang @barnes70stark @forgedfromthestars
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babyangelsky · 5 months ago
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My Favorite Expressions in Love Sea Ep. 9
Holy shit I don't think I have ever felt more relieved watching the penultimate episode of a Thai BL than I did this week. I was expecting doom, I was expecting gloom, and while both were absolutely present, we did not linger there.
This is just my opinion but to me that alone is proof of how much Mame has grown as a writer because for a second there I was fearing another Don't Say No situation.
BUT THIS AIN'T ABOUT THAT LET'S YAP ABOUT MICROEXPRESSIONS
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I need to start with my baby because after the horrors last week, seeing her smile means everything to me. Gotta hold onto it as long as I can because we all know what's coming.
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And speaking of smiles, this situation is TERRIBLE there are delinquents coming at my man with 2x4's but this feral smile from Mahasamut?
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This one is purely for Meena's benefit, to comfort and reassure her but it is genuine, Fort's eyes are very sparkly. He switches gears very quickly when the getaway bike arrives for the thugs though so however chill he seems, he absolutely isn't. He just wants to keep the baby (and Vivi and her friend) calm.
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It's very disconcerting to see Vivi this serious.
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We're 2/2 on smiles for other people's benefit. My poor girly.
*stares at Viviana* You did this.
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This look of pure murderous intent may be one of my favorite expressions Mut has had over this whole show, especially because it's paired with that clenched fist. And I'm going to give extra praise to Fort for it because he doesn't clench his fist until after Tongrak apologizes for what happened and he doesn't open his eyes until his hand is practically trembling from holding it so tightly.
This response doesn't come when Rak tries to blame himself for the beating; it happens when he apologizes for it. Mut isn't angry in the abstract and he isn't angry at Rak, he's angry for him.
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I don't like this face, Khun Tongrak. I actually had a moment where I thought to myself, "why can't I read your face right now?" and of course it's deliberate on Peat's part. Even without knowing what we know from the preview, this face would have told us that Something was about to happen.
Or maybe that's just me, I don't know. I've been staring very hard at Peat's face for the past two months.
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Watching Tongrak desperately try to steel his nerve after entering the snake pit that is his sperm donor's house is heartbreaking.
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As much as I hate to subject you (and myself) to more of Jak's face, I'd like to point out that like last week, his face is in shadow while the face of the person he's speaking to, in this case Tongrak, is catching the light. Also worth noting that Rak's back is quite literally against the wall in this scene.
We see this play with light/shadow again when Rak has a flashback of him from his childhood. Jak has always been a vile, psychopathic snake and his true feelings and intentions have always been hidden behind shadow.
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It's horrible to say because there's so much anguish behind it but this is such a beautiful expression. There's a split second where he tries to look angry but it just doesn't work.
I think there's a tiny part of Tongrak that truly believed that tearing up the contract would be what made Mahasamut leave and on the flip side of that, a part that was afraid that the contract was truly the only thing making Mut stay.
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GODDAMN THIS IS THE SEXIEST THING MAHASAMUT HAS EVER SAID ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME
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For people like Tongrak and for people who can relate to Tongrak in the sense that one or more of the parents we pulled in the great gacha of life are horrible and shitty, there comes a moment where you realize that they aren't actually these huge indestructible monsters. They're human.
And when you realize that and look at them, it's like you're seeing for the first time. There's a weird sort of pity and whatever the opposite of awe is that you feel that's hard to describe. It's a feeling of "...Is that really it? Is that all there is to you?"
That is what Peat is portraying so incredibly in this scene.
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BLINDING LIGHT OF LOVE LET'S GOOOOOOO
WILD HORSES, YA'LL! WILD FUCKING HORSES!
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Pouty Tongrak face, as a treat.
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Mook and Mahasamut were talking about Tongrak and what Mut would do if he got rejected when all was said and done, but Mook's face when Mut says he would accept the rejection tells me she's also thinking about herself and Vivi.
I actually really wish she would've talked to Mut about it directly because god knows girly pop needs to talk to someone about Vivi. Or better yet, Vivi herself.
As for the preview next week, do not even sweat it babes because you know what?
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THERE ARE COLORFUL PATTERNS ON TONGRAK'S BODY!
I LOVE GETTING EVERYTHING I WANT!
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theredhairedmonkey · 8 days ago
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What Dark Callum Means
And what it doesn't.
So, I think it's worth discussing what the appearance of this particular guy at this point of the series means and symbolizes, as I'm sure many people are going to have a field day with his.
And by "this particular guy," I mean Dark Callum.
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Who, funny enough, is actually still more reasonable and moral than the psychopathic gremlin known as "snake boi callum" found across the fandom (as he acknowledges that he loves and cares for more people than just Rayla and Ezran), but I digress. In particular, I think what some fans are zeroing in on is that the show confirms (and it actually does confirm) that there’s always been this part of Callum that is willing to abandon his sense of right and wrong for the sake of those he loves.
But...that actually plays to the larger part of this season's themes in a way that ends up enriching Callum's position as the show's moral center. Let me explain why.
Book Dark (i.e. season 7) is about the loss of innocence, told not just through symbolism (the Garden of Innocents being where Unicorns went to die being a bit on the nose) but directly by Aaravos:
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Aaravos: All children have a true heart. But as we grow up, we are forced to take choices, sacrifices, compromises. And they change us forever. Childhood innocence gives way to something...complicated.
The fact that Ezran is shown here as Aaravos speaks is not a coincidence - no matter how pure, life wears all of us down.
Then Aaravos' next speech contextualizes this further - not having a dark side isn't an attribute of goodness, but innocence. Eventually, all of us develop a dark side, and inevitable outgrowth of being forced to make compromises, harsh decisions, and sacrifices.
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Aaravos: The true heart is a gift of childhood. For a few wonder-filled years, we each have innocent eyes to experience the world's beauty in a simple way. Terrestrius, you were lucky and held that innocent wonder longer than most. I have seen generations of humans and elves accept the darkness that lurks inside all of us beside the light. There is no black and white, only shades of gray. We must all carry complexity. But please believe me that there is beauty in this burden. Your heart will be a little heavier. But now, there will be no more half-truths, Terrestrius. Together, we will do what must be done. However dangerous. However vile.
It is worth pointing out how many people are shown together with the quote about "humans and elves accept the darkness that lurks inside of all of us." So when Callum meets Dark Callum, who tells him he's always been inside him even before he used dark magic, we shouldn't be surprised.
But his appearance actually tells us something different - that Callum had not yet accepted him. That the Callum we have been seeing throughout the show is not the one who would do whatever he had to for his loved ones "however dangerous, however vile."
And that is the critical part here, and why despite seeing the world as Aaravos does, understanding the need for compromises, Callum nevertheless opposes him - being good isn't about lacking the capacity for darkness, but about choosing what to do with that capacity. Callum's strength isn't that he never feels the pull to abandon principles for love, but that he develops the wisdom to channel that impulse in ways that ultimately serve good rather than evil.
In short, he sees the world as Aaravos does...yet chooses differently.
Consider how this differs from Aaravos's prediction. Aaravos sees this willingness to compromise for love and assumes it must lead down the same path of progressive moral erosion that he took. What he misses is that acknowledging this capacity doesn't mean surrendering to it entirely. Callum shows that you can recognize this part of yourself while still choosing how to express it.
This makes Callum's role as a moral center more complex and meaningful. He's not a moral center because he lacks dark impulses or the willingness to break rules for love - he's a moral center because he shows us how to acknowledge these aspects of ourselves while still making choices that serve rather than destroy our principles.
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nav-i-nav · 10 months ago
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Actually, while we are at it, can we talk about how awful a lot of the fanbase treats Basil? My man can’t catch a break because almost everyone misinterprets him one way or another.
Where do I even start? Literally everything he does is taken the wrong way. There’s the people who characterize him as an obsessive yandere who only cares about Sunny and did everything in his power to isolate him. On the other hand, we have people who just remove one of the basic core aspects of him as a whole and make him an empty husk with no real personality.
Headacanon him however you want, but also try to understand him? I don’t know how people can say he only cares about Sunny when it’s clear he deeply appreciates his friends. He has a stronger bond with Sunny, but that doesn’t mean he’s a possessive and obsessed person who is toxic.
He definitely fucked up along the way, but his actions were never intended to hurt Sunny intentionally. He was in a panic and all he wanted was to keep his best friend safe. People constantly treat him as he’s a disgusting person for simple fact he shows mental illness signs, which is incredibly disheartening because there IS people in real life who act this way and can’t help it! What a relief it is to know people will treat me or my friends like this if we dare show an ounce of distress or panic!
Being mentally ill does not justify your actions, but this also doesn’t mean you are allowed to treat people who suffer from them like scum. People like Basil deserve to get help, to have people who support them so they can start healing. Basil clearly didn’t have that support, the only person that was there for him being his bedridden grandmother who he eventually lost.
And on the other hand, we have people who just choose to get rid of Basil’s personality altogether and characterise him as this character who is all suffering and trauma based off things that are NOT canon. It’s true that Basil’s life doesn’t exactly fit a “normal” childhood (having to live with his grandmother for unknown reasons) but that doesn’t immediately mean he is beyond traumatized? Basil is a little shy, sure, but a lot of people are. Basil used to be a smart and lively kid who loved his friends dearly. It wasn’t until AFTER the incident that he spiralled to the point he is where we see him in game.
People either disregard his trauma and paint him as a villain (let’s make one thing clear, there are NO villains in OMORI), or try to give him even more trauma for no apparent reason. All we know is that his parents aren’t really present in his life, and while that may bring some issues, from what we can see in cutscenes and the photo album, Basil lived a comfortable life surrounded by a loving family member and friends who cared about him.
You are free to explore Basil’s character however you like, but there’s a point where it no longer feels like Basil.
There is nothing wrong with showing his gentle side, just as how there’s nothing wrong to explore his unhealthy behaviour. But focusing on only one of the aspects of his entire self just turns him into a one-dimensional character with no redeemable qualities.
In my opinion, Basil is one of the best examples of a person struggling with mentally illness in media, yet people choose to ignore the complexity of his character to have either a selfish and dangerous yandere or a cute and shy femboy who’s only there to look pretty.
Write him like the mess he is. He is unstable. He is resentful, he is paranoid. That’s what makes Basil’s character so loved. That’s what makes him feel so relatable and human. Ignoring one side of his self takes away all of that. OMORI is a game about acceptance and forgiving. Why shouldn’t we apply those terms to their characters? It’s rather hypocritical for the fanbase to treat Sunny as a poor boy who only did what he did due to stress and trauma and then mark Basil as a psychopath with no redeemable features as if he wasn’t also a scared child who witnessed his very best friend push his sister down the stairs.
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evellynssocbrainrot · 2 months ago
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This is mostly to speak in defense of this post made by @starsandscars81
First of all, my intention isn’t to gatekeep anyone else’s take or opinion on this subject matter. If you think differently that’s completely fine. It’s none of my business. 
Anyway, on to the analysis.
Kaz and the Darkling are, without a doubt, two of the most flawed characters in the Grishaverse. They’ve both done bad things and certainly aren’t good people. Even so, I’ve said this before and I’ll say it again: comparing Kaz to the Darkling is still… extreme. And just not it. By comparison, no matter how much awful stuff Kaz has done, it’s no joke that he is over a million times better than the Darkling. 
The Darkling definitely didn’t start off as an evil character, and all his intentions aren’t horrible either. His main motivation is to help the Grisha, his people who have faced years worth of discrimination. He worked hard and built the second army and the Little Palace, which became a kind of haven for Grisha to come together and exercise their gifts. And coming from someone who dislikes the Darkling, I can tell you now that that is wonderful. I’m glad that he’s doing his best and defending his people. That is great. But even then, you can’t deny that some of the things that the Darkling has done on that path are borderline disgusting. The first being massacring hundreds, if not thousands of innocent people. Even if he’s doing it for the sake of his people, killing so many people who are not at fault is not an act of a selfless hero, but pure villainy and cruelty. And what’s worse is that he did this several times. Not just once, and without second thought. Reminders that these innocent people included harmless children.
The rest of the horrible deeds he’s done all come down to his treatment of Alina Starkov (and a bit of Genya Safin, as well). Whether you like Darklina or not, never forget or sugarcoat the idea that he ABUSED her. He may have loved her, he may have understood her, but he hurt her. Over and over again. He lied to her and hid his true intentions. He placed a collar on her and touched her without consent. He stole her power and claimed her as if she was nothing but an object. He was possessive of her and emotionally tormented her even after she ran away. He killed the only mother figure she had and completely destroyed her childhood home. He was absolutely disgusting. There is nothing at all to forgive and redeem. He was already beyond redemption when he created the Fold. And once again, IT DOESN’T MATTER if he loved her. It doesn’t matter at all when he did nothing but hurt her to such extreme amounts and would have continued to if he ever won, or if Darklina actually became canon. 
And what makes the Darkling even worse is that he doesn’t regret any of it. This is where he truly can be labeled as a heartless and cruel monster. He doesn’t express so much as even a sliver of remorse over his inhuman behavior. He doesn’t feel bad. He doesn’t reflect on it or think about it. In fact, he still believes himself to be in the right. He doesn’t even realize how awful he is. Doesn’t show any sign of improving himself. I mourn the person he could have been. I mourn Aleksander Morozova. But I will never defend the person he is today. I will always believe that the death he was given was far too light and SHOULD have been worse. It’s what he deserves. 
He didn’t start evil, but he became evil. He had hundreds of years to rethink his actions but never did. He wanted to defend his people, but you don’t do that by expanding the Fold and causing further destruction. You don’t do that with pointless mass murder. He loved Alina, but you don’t express that by ruining her life. Once upon a time, he was a young hurt boy, but now he’s nothing but a revolting, monstrous and horrible psychopath.
With that said, now I’ll move on to Kaz.
He is not a good person. I’ll tell you that now. I’m not at all defending the bad things that he’s done. Neither am I ignoring his bad qualities. He is manipulative, cruel, and violent. When he freed Inej from the Menagerie, his intentions weren’t to save her, but to temporarily make use of her skills. I know this, and I’m not dismissing it.
But here are some things that set him apart from the Darkling.
The first being that almost everything Kaz does has reason. There is ALWAYS a reason. His rage is targeted at hyper-specific people. People who deserve it. He killed Oomen, but because he hurt Inej to the point that she nearly died. He dropped a man from a tower, but because that man blackmailed a Zemeni sex worker. He destroyed Van Eck and his empire, but because Van Eck was a bitch. He spent all his life trying to crush Pekka Rollins, and he did, but because Pekka ruined his life. “Kaz Brekker always had his reasons.” The Darkling had no reason to commit mass murder and hurt Alina. 
The second thing is boundaries. The Darkling didn’t have fucking boundaries. Kaz, on the other hand, no matter the amount of violence and destruction he commits, never crosses some lines. He never ever raped or sexually assaulted anyone, he never hurts innocent people, he never hurts children, and never actually spread firepox around the city of Ketterdam. 
The third being awareness. This is a big one. The Darkling, in his path of vengeance, hardly considers his environment, the people around him, who he should get mad at and who he shouldn’t. And even after the horrible deed is done, as I said before, there’s no remorse and regret. For Kaz it’s the opposite. He is hyper aware of where he is. Who he’s with. He’s careful and considerate. And for some of the horrible things he’s done, despite how understandable and trauma-inflicted they are, he regrets them. He feels bad. He knows he’s not a good person. He knows he is awful. He knows he isn’t worthy of Inej. When he was drowning in the waters of Fjerda, it wasn’t himself he was thinking of. It was his crew, Inej. He was worried for them. He blamed himself for the positions they were in and vowed that no matter what, he would save them. He would fix this mess. The same applies in the next book, when they were all trapped in the Geldrenner hotel. It’s himself Kaz blamed, nobody else. 
We don’t even need to tell Kaz that he’s awful. Because he already knows it and wholeheartedly believes it. And unlike so many other similar male characters in YA fiction, Kaz desperately wished that he could change. Perhaps he doesn’t say this openly, but you know deep down that he doesn’t want to be this way. He doesn’t want this life or the trauma. 
Speaking of the trauma, so much of what Kaz does is because of it. Does it excuse his behavior? Certainly not. But it does help with understanding why. And even now, the consequences he suffers from the trauma are bad, but still don’t excuse what he does. Kaz himself thinks so. 
Kaz was a boy who was hurt, like the Darkling was. He lost someone important, like the Darkling did. But the way he responded to that was immensely different. Even the desire for money is understandable when you realize that the lack of it was what made him and his brother end up on the streets. And the money he got, he literally spent a large portion of it to buy Inej a ship and remake the Emerald Palace into the Silver Six. And before that, he gave up the last of it he had left to pay off Inej’s contract.
AND, speaking of Inej. Only someone extremely stupid would say that the way he treats her is the same as the way the Darkling treats Alina. The dynamic is messy and flawed, but they are young. It’s understandable if they fail from time to time. But overall, Kaz respects Inej. He adores Inej. He’s devoted to Inej. He’s loyal to Inej. He wouldn’t betray or abandon her for all the gold in the world. He’s protective of her, but not possessive. When he sees other people get close to her, he’s jealous. But not because he wants to keep Inej to himself, but because he wants to be able to get close to her like that as well. He realizes the wrong ways he treats her, and then proceeds to claim that he isn’t so bad that he can’t pull himself together for her. He spends a good portion of Crooked Kingdom going out of his way to make up for his behavior and it shows. It doesn’t make him any better a person, but it does make him a far better lover. A worthy book boyfriend <333.
Outside of Inej, you can see how much he cares about his crew. He protects them, he the Parem from Nina, he refuses to give it to Jesper, he gives Wylan advice like a big brother, he gave them all time to rest and recharge in the Geldrenner hotel while dragging his aching body all the way to the Slat to gather more people for his plan. He gave his crew every single resource he had left and even then, contributed alongside them when putting his plan to action. The Slat and the Dregs themselves have become a safe space for young people who don’t have a family or a place to go. He may be selfish with the world, but with them he’s nothing but the most selfless person to ever exist. 
The list is endless, honestly, but this is why it doesn't make any sense to compare Kaz to the Darkling. If I were in a life and death situation, and I was forced to put my trust in one person, Kaz or the Darkling, I would choose Kaz in a heartbeat.
Damn, this took way too long.
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toomanythoughts2 · 6 months ago
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After thinking about fan artists drawing Murderface with curly hair, I've decided to also thank all of the fan artists that do the following (YOU ARE ALL RECIEVING KISSES IN THE MAIL, PLEASE BE PATIENT!):
People who draw Skwisgaar, Toki, or Nathan with their hair up in a claw clip or a ponytail. Especially Skwisgaar. You understand your power and you use it for love.
People who draw Toki and Nathan with fat, juicy tits pecs. You are doing the lords work and I love you.
People who draw Pickles with freckles. If the heavens saw the beauty that you bestowed onto our little midwestern Irish-American drummer, they would weep in joy.
People who draw the boys with detail eyelashes. I know what you are.
People who draw the boys with their HC-ed ethnics/races. (i.e. Nathan having Yaneemango features, Latino/Hispanic Murderface, Sámi Skwisgaar & Toki, very Irish Pickles.) The work that yall do is outstanding and I love to see it
SCARS! S.H. SCARS, TOP SURGERY SCARS, POSSESSION SCARS, POST-DSR & AOTD SCARS, TOKI'S CHILDHOOD SCARS! I'M FUCKING COMING FOR YOU! I LOVE YOU!
People who draw Murderface with distinctive clues that he is from the American South/Appalachians. I LOVE these HCs so much and I love the idea of him being from a very poor, southern town in America, it just fits him SO FUCKING WELL!
People who give Toki and Skwisgaar opposing eye shapes. I have seen them go both ways, and either one fits them so good. I am partial to downward turned eyes for Toki though, but either way, I eat it up every single time.
People who draw Murderface and Nathan as the fat men they are. Listen, it's a big girl winter every winter, but it's a big boy summer every summer. Ya gotta give the fat boys some love.
People who draw Skwisgaar in that damn speedo or in a bikini. He's got the confidence and you have the talent.
People who draw Toki in his roller skating outfit. Need I saw more?
People who draw one or more members of Dethklok as trans. I have yet to encounter a version of this HC/canon content that I do not love, adore, admire, respect, and obsess over.
People on tiktok that attempted to do a Metalocalypse version of the "Infected My Little Pony" trend. One of which where Nathan was the infected and the other where Toki was. Honestly, the artist that was doing the eldritch horror!Toki was fucking cooking. They had it where Murderface saw Toki in his true form and was terrorizing Murderface from keep him from revealing his secret.
People who draw Trindle. Listen, I understand Nathan. If I had a goth woman showing me her tits every second of every day, I too would look past the blatant psychopathic tendencies and mysterious disappearances.
People who are not afraid to make the boys look gross. You are all so fucking valid and your interpretations of the boys are so awesome to look at. Especially if it's a specific art style that is scratchy. LOVE!
People who draw Lady!Klok. Every single interpretation of what the boys would look like is so valid, whether they're cis or trans, their outfits and appearances are also so fucking spot on. And their HCs that are added on the side to explain how they're different from Dethklok is a fucking PLUS
People who draw Skwisgaar in lingerie. I want you to know, that I see you and I appreciate you in every single way.
People who draw Trans!Pickles content (NSFW & SFW) specifically. Yall were in the god damn trenches and you PREVAILED!
People who draw the boys with their interpretations of their nose shapes, ESPECIALLY MURDERFACE! HE'S GOT A BEAUTIFUL PUG NOSE, LET HIM HAVE IT! Double appreciate for Skwisgaar's beautifully crooked nose and Nathan's slanted nose. I love their faces so much and their noses and yall always know how to bring them to light.
People who draw Knubbler with no chin. Homeboy gave away his chin in order to accumulate all of the swagger he's got. He's a Mick Jagger type of guy.
People who draw Pickles dreads as independently floating tendrils like Medusas snakes. It is so perfect for him and it's so hard not to do it.
People who draw Pickles bald. Look...It's coming. He's just gonna have to own it.
People who draw Early!Klok ESPECIALLY TOKI! That fact that we don't have a lot of information about their past other than DSR is a SHAME! BUT ITS OK BECAUSE THE FANS KNOW WHAT TO DO AND THEY DO IT PREFECTLY EVERY TIME! Every time I see little DSR Toki with his short hair, I go fucking feral. I COULD BE A GOOD MOTHER!
People who draw the gore. The show would not exist without it, and some of yall are just cooking with the themes and context yall create. I am always so intrigued with what I will see next.
People who draw and make Dethklok lesbians. Of course Dethklok is lesbian. Why wouldn't they be?
People who draw the band in their "Dethfashion" clothes. WE NEEDED MORE TIME WITH THOSE OUTFITS! WE JUST DID!
People who have no clue how to draw a Fu Manchu. I had to look this up before I said anything but a Fu Manchu does not grow around the mouth, it's literally just hair from the top part of the mouth that continues to grow down. That's why in "Stare Down" Skwisgaar refers to Toki's mustache as an "extreme facial hairs". AND YET! I ADORE THE WAY SOME OF YALL DRAW IT, ITS VERY ATTRACTIVE AND CUTE!
People who draw the band members in their animal forms. YOU CAN TAKE THESE ANIMAL FORMS FROM MY COLD DEAD HANDS! PICKLES THE OCTOPUS IS SO SPECIAL TO ME, ESPECIALLY AFTER "Dethmom"! AND THE BUNNY/RABBIT SYMOLISM FOR TOKI AND WITH HIM BEING THE ANGEL OF DEATH, ITS SO GOD DAMN IMPORTANT!
People who draw Agere!Toki. Canon age regression is so rare and to have Toki being a canon and explicit example of an age regressor throughout the entire show is so special to me. JUST LET THE BOY REST!
People who draw Abigail. She's a girl boss. She's the moment. I will NOT tolerate hate on my woman, she did not deserve the shit she got.
People who draw Deaddy Bear. I want one so badly, it's not a joke.
People who draw Toki in skirts/dresses. One particular art work with Toki is in a long bohemian skirt and a band tee with a scarf is my all time favorite example of it.
The person who created Lasagna, Pickle's daughter, and then made her a bassist. I eat your shit up every single time I see new stuff from that AU.
People who draw the boys with more piercings. Especially the angel bites on Toki, the middle of the lip piercing for Murderface, and the gauges on Nathan and Skwisgaar.
People who draw Pickles during his Snakes N' Barrels era. THE HIGHER THE HAIR THE CLOSER TO GOD YOU ARE! AND PICKLES WAS CLIMBING THAT LADDER EVERY NIGHT!
People who draw Pickles pubes in the shape of his goatee like in "Rehabklok". That's one of the funniest visual gags in the entire show, I won't hear another word about it.
People who draw Charles. Every single one of you are invited to my Charles Offdensen themed birthday party.
People who give Toki the longest hair length but give Skwisgaar the most definition. Also, when they remember Nathan's little hair wisp in his face. Skwisgaar has the waves and Toki is afraid to getting a hair cut.
PEOPLE WHO DRAW GODKLOK! GOATED AS FUCK! THE COOLEST FUCKING PEOPLE EVER! I AM FOREVER IN YOUR DEBT! EVERY SINGLE ITERATION IS SO FUCKING GOOD!
People who draw Top/Dom!Toki. LISTEN HE'S A SADIST, HE JUST GETS NERVOUS! IF YOU GIVE HIM TIME, HE CAN PROVE TO BE GREAT!
People who draw Nathan as the bottom. You understand what this man needs and it's to get railed.
People who draw the boys in jeans. Listen. This one is really niche but for whatever reason, this fandom puts these boys in a pair or jeans and they are looking as fine a fucking WINE!
People who draw the cowboy Dethklok fan art. What is it like wielding the power that you have?
That's all that I think of at the moment, but I really do appreciate all of the different kinds of fan artists this fandom has. There is some absolutely beautiful pieces in this fandom.
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heartthrobin · 2 years ago
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round and round the garden (1)
sam winchester x fairy!reader
wc: 4.7k
warnings: soulmate!au (partners share scars), fem!reader, limited use of y/n, timeline is foggy but we’re working with s8 sam lookwise, reader is a creature, implied age gap (reader is early 20's), reader is uber tooth-rottingly sweet, highkey dumbification of sam winchester, references to thick reader (everyone cheered) but can be ignored, dean being dean, destiel is canon, animals, canon warnings (child kidnapping, violence ect.)
an: literally just wanted to write something fantastical and cutesy so here it is !!! this is part 1 of (probably) 4 :))) let me know if you want to be added to taglist <33 love y’all
summary: the case was bizarre, but no aspect more so than the “witch” at the end of town with the prettiest goddamn face Sam had ever seen and the long pink scar up her arm that matched his own.
part two part three part four
The house wasn't big.
If Sam could really call it a house.
It was more like a cottage, reminding him of children's illustrated stories he never had the childhood to read. Of picnics and fireplaces.
The cottage dazzled like a water colour painting: green shrubbery seeping into every corner of the canvas, with lush pink and orange and yellow fruit speckled across the page.
Creeping around it, wrapping it's branches over the house like an arboreal hug: was the largest tree Sam had ever laid eyes on. The trunk was almost as wide as the street they were parked on and it's leaves draped low over the windows peeking from inside. It stood like a monolith against the backdrop of the forest leering behind it.
The line of trees were inched back just enough to almost convince Sam that this tree, the one engulfing your cottage, made them nervous.
A stone footpath lead to the door.
"I-- looked away for just one minute ..." the woman was inconsolable.
Jenny Perez sobbed into the arm of her couch. Her sister leered in the doorway.
Sam and Dean watched her from the couch over.
"Ma'am," Sam stepped carefully. "We know this isn't easy, but are you sure you didn't see anything in the moments leading up to Manny's disappearance? Even anything ... strange?"
Washington State. Five kids. Two months. Missing.
Each snatched out their gardens where they played.
Sam and Dean had been in Illinois on the tail end of a wendigo hunt when the news of a sixth missing kid blew far enough across the country to land a tiny column on the front page of the Chicago Tribune.
Manny Perez (7) was taken from the backyard of his home this past Sunday night in Fernglade, Washington.
His mother, Jenny Perez (38), said she heard rustling in the bushes behind their house and her son laughing before going to take some food out of the oven. When she returned, her son had disappeared.
Sure it was a terrible story, but regardless, it didn’t arouse enough suspicion out of either Winchester to make it their problem. To convince them it was anything more than a 53-year old psychopath holding children in his basement.
Not until Dean found the entry. The one in John’s journal.
He’d been looking for a passage he swore was in there on wendigo hunting seasons when the ruggedly clipped article fell from between it’s pages.
“Sammy …” he’d flashed him the clip, “look familiar?”
Several articles actually: eight kids missing from the little town of Fernglade. Every Autumn, every twenty years out of some poor mother’s backyard. John had only scribbled one lonely note amongst all the newspaper staining: THE TREES
“No! It’s like I told the police … I just heard him laughing.” Her voice came out as broken shards between the heaving and the hands clutched close against her chest. “I thought I heard another child’s voice, but that was—”
“Jenny, enough.” Sandra Perez piped up from the doorway, clearly enflamed. She turned from her sister to face the brothers on the couch. “What my sister is refusing to consider, and what the rest of us know to be true, is that Manny was taken by that witch.”
“Hermana … she isn’t a witch—”
“A witch?” Dean’s calibre had twisted to intrigued.
“She lives on the edge of town. By the forestline.” Sandra’s arms were crossed tightly. “Jenny always used to let Manny go afternoons out there, God knows why—”
“A lot of the neighbourhood kids did too.” Jenny interrupted, desperate in her approach: hands outdrawn. “She’s not a … a witch. She’s a bit strange but the kids loved her and she was kind to them—”
“And now look. All those children are gone, Jenny.”
The woman deflated back into the couch again, her tear-soaked sleeves came up to find purchase against her cheeks again. They muffled a sob.
Sam and Dean exchanged a look. Dean shrugged with a look that said “maybe?”
Dean turned to the sister, “What has you convinced that this woman is a witch?”
Sanda Perez looked affronted by the question. Like Dean had slapped her clean across the face.
“Oh! Well she’s … there’s always things burning at that house and people have said they’ve heard … like, chanting at night over there.” She wrapped her arms tighter around herself, grasping at the straws of gossip that had dripped down to her willing ears. “And her house is strange and she’s always in the forest at night when it’s unsafe. Who knows what … what rituals she’s doing out there!”
The brothers nodded. “Sure. Would you mind giving us that address?”
Now that Sam was faced with the house, getting his first view through the grimy passenger side window, he’d stray from the description of “strange”. He might have agreed that “enchanted” or “mystical” fit the description of the cottage better if he didn’t resent the magic clichés.
Dean’s finger pressed into the open journal page, tapping along the stained ink of John’s nearly illegible handwriting. THE TREES.
“Now that’s a tree if I’ve ever laid eyes on one.” He leaned over so his eyes could find the top of the tree from under the cover of the car.
Sam nodded. Something felt off when he watched the house, his stomach was twisting up past his other organs in his throat.
“I don’t know man …” his finger reached up to tug at the collar choking him at the neck. Maybe the fed suit wasn’t helping. “Something feels weird about this place.”
Dean scoffed loudly. He picked up the takeaway cup from the centre console, coffee long cold, and slugged the last of it down in one long sip. He surfaced again, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.
“Every place we go to is weird.” It was clear he didn’t share the sentiment. “I’m sure we’ve faced worse.”
He unbuckled his seatbelt.
“Well, come on. Let’s go meet this witch.”
Despite Sandra Perez’ less than convincing account of the “witch” at the end of town, it was still worth a visit to know who the townsfolk had decided was guilty in the matter of several counts of child kidnapping. How evil and vile of a person they must be.  
The air was crisp outside the car and the further they ventured up the path, the more delightful the aroma became. There was a thin string of smoke curling from behind the house, it carried a warm woody scent and the tussles of flowers lining the bannister of the porch was making Sam’s head spin happily. He managed a small smile.
“Nice garden.” He whispered offhand.
Dean seemed unconvinced, eyes flashing over the shrubbery with skepticism. “Yeah, well don’t get too close to anything. And don’t touch anything either.”
The door was tall, intimidating and clearly made of some fancy wood. It was slot between the white brick on the face of the house. The feeling from the car had only tripled on the walk up and Sam had his hand against his stomach. He could feel his blood rushing past his ears.
“Dean, I’m really not sure about—”
Dean’s fist connected with the door three times. Curt and professional, like a fed’s would be.  
There was an obvious shuffle behind the door, by then each beat of Sam’s heart was like a foghorn against his vibrating ribs and for a moment he was sure he was going to be sick.
Suddenly, there was sniffle by the foot of the door. A dog? And a voice, caressed gently by a giggle, ushering the animal away.
Sam’s brain was swelling too large for his head, the doorknob creaked from inside – his fists grew ice cold – with a soft grunt, the door was pulled ajar …
It stopped.
With a smile that knocked the wind clean out of Sam’s lungs, you greeted. “Good morning, gentlemen.”
Warmth flooded back in to his palms and the thumping of his head cooled to a dizzy buzz. The nausea subsided to a hot bubbling.
Your frame took up the doorway. It seemed to fizzle around the edges, glimmering like light off a rippling pond.
Sam’s eyes slipped down your body like warm coffee down his throat. Your face was gentle, eyes round and wet beneath a set of suffocatingly black eyelashes. Wide-set thighs rippled all the way down to soft calves and pink painted toenails.
A cream crochet top reached over the expanse of your shoulders, sloping down where the rugged sleeve edges hung off your palms, a sparkling green skirt flirted at the top of your thighs. It’s silk ruffles shivered with your every breath.
If he was momentarily able to lift his eyes from you, which he most definitely was not, maybe he'd notice how Dean didn't seem even moderately as amazed as he was. That might have been the first sign if he did.
"Good afternoon ma'am, I'm agent Alice. This is my partner agent Cooper." Dean dug out the FBI identification from his jacket pocket, flashing it casually. "We just have a few questions regarding some recent--"
"Oh please," you waved your hand airily, "No need for the semantics. I've been expecting you, lunch is out in the garden."
The sound of your voice was sending waves of warmth through his stomach. Like he was sipping hot cocoa at your every syllable.
The ID in Dean's hand wobbled, his face clenched in confusion. "I-- sorry, what?"
In the shift of Sam’s gaze back up your form, he came to find your eyes set on his.
You smiled again. His tongue felt heavy and half-formed words gurgled at the back of his throat: begging to be spat out.
“I-I’m–“
“I know who you are.”
Your eyes flickered back to Dean and Sam felt hollow at the loss of their warmth.
“Not every day you have the Winchesters at your door, now is it.” You finished, stepping aside to allow them in.
“You know who we are?” Dean’s cadence dropped warily, clearly spearheading the conversation where Sam was finding difficulty. But your figure was already disappearing into the darkness of the house.
Despite his sceptic tone, Dean stepped in quickly after you. Sam trailed behind.
The cottage was warm. At least that was Sam’s first thought.
It was quickly ribbed out the way by the sheer visual of the interior.
There wasn’t a single blank wall or spot on the floor uncovered by carpetry.
Rows of paintings and stacks of photographs lined the space between wooden countertops and cherry red couches. Persian rugs and indoor plants spilled from a technicolour mirage of pots.
Desks were cluttered with books, paint supplies abandoned still wet. A dusty chandelier.
But more striking than the portraits and the vinyls and the rugs and the botany textbooks, were the creatures.
“Just watch for Goose,” she waved vaguely at a moving creature that was quickly nearing Sam’s feet, avoiding Dean’s question. “He won’t bite but he will try lick you—”
For a moment, Sam connected that this had to be the dog at the door. But the dog, Goose, was hardly a dog at all. Only once he was licking a stripe up the strip of bare skin at Sam’s ankle did he realize that … it can’t … that’s a fox.
And that wasn’t the start nor the end of it.
Draped over the couch was the largest snake Sam had ever seen. It was curled into the red frilled cushion, fast asleep. On the countertop, two ferrets were dipping in and out of sight behind the fruit basket. A gecko bathing in a sunspot on top of a stack of books. A flock of white budgies perched between the crystals on the chandelier. Three pairs of brown twitching rabbit ears peeking out from a basket of laundry.
It seemed Dean had also taken stark notice of the menagerie that was the cottage, so distracted that he’d forgone mentioning that his question had gone unanswered.
His finger pointed weakly at down at the white boa on the couch. “That’s … that’s a snake.”
You laughed again and Sam was sure he could get drunk off the sound.
“Nothing gets past you boys, hey?”
You kept walking, motioning for them to follow through another arched door out into the garden behind the house.
“Her name is Lydia. She’ll come join us when she’s awake.”
“I sure as hell hope not …” But it was muttered and Sam gave Dean a stern look for his comment. You didn’t turn back.
The garden behind the house was impossibly even more beautiful than infront. Vines creeped up the outer walls, a lemon tree grew along the underside the of the bigger tree engulfing the house. Shrubs and bushes and stark purple flowers. Your whole patch of land seemed untouched by the fingertips of Autumn that was reaching over the rest of town.
In the middle of it all: sat a small white painted table. You’d lined it with sheer cloth and platters of pastries, sandwiches and cakes.
There were three chairs around it.
“Sit, sit, sit.” You were wringing your hands, a light waft of nervousness fluttering off you. “I didn’t know what exactly you hunters eat or don’t eat … so there’s a little bit of everything–“
“Oh, hell yes.” Dean’s initial skepticism seemed to dissolve at the prospect of food and his ass was in the chair before you had chance to say anything else.
You seemed pleased. 
Sam’s face flushed red. He remembered that he still has yet to say a full sentence in your presence.
“Uh,” you turned to the sound of his voice. “T-Thank you.”
The speckles of light through the canopy of the trees drifted over your face. Sam had never noticed that on a person before.
He’d also never paid much mind to people’s hair. Not before yours. It looked like something ripped off the cover of a fashion magazine from the 70’s.
“You’re so very welcome.” Your voice was kind. “It’s more of an indulgence. I haven’t had guests in a while, not since …”
It faded off. “Well, not for a while.”
Jewels jingled around your neck, crystals wrapped in black string: dipping low down between the swell of your breasts that was just visible above the hemline—
Sam quickly swung his gaze back to the table where Dean was scarfing down an icing covered puff pastry.  
His brother was making wildly animalistic groans over the taste. For a moment, it was the only noise filling the space against the shiver of the trees in the midday gust.
Sam didn’t know where to find his tongue. He couldn’t get himself to step away from you.
“Coffee or tea, boys? I have it inside warming on the stove.”
“Coffee.” Dean responded blurrily around a mouthful. You turned to Sam again.
“I—just, I’m—coffee is good.”
You nodded. “Sure. I’ll be right back.”
He watched your figure retreat towards the house. The nausea was bubbling back into view.
“This is some fucking good cake.”
When your frame had disappeared back into the house, Sam turned back to his brother who was cleaning remnants of a second pastry off his plate with a tiny fork.
He quickly neared him, pulling out the chair across from him hastily.
“Dean, have you even considered the possibility that this food is poisened?”
Dean’s face twisted to a grimace, but only for a fraction of a moment before shrugging. “Hey. Worse ways to go.”
But Sam was shaking his head. The dizziness had returned.
“Do you feel sick? I’ve been feeling like … like off since we first step foot on this property.”
Dean watched him with hooded eyes, gaze flickering between his brother and the sliced ham and cucumber sandwich resting at the top of a nearby plate.
“Is that your explanation for the fool you’ve been acting since we walked in the door?”
Looking up from wiping sweaty palms down his trousers, Sam stalled. “W-What?”
“Exactly.” Dean gave in, reaching for the sandwich. “You haven’t been able to string three fucking words together since we got here.”
“I—she’s a witch, Dean.” Sam pressed. “I think she put like a … a spell o-or a hex on me!”
“She couldn’t have done that in the five minutes we’ve been here.”
“She knows who we are, she could’ve hexed our motel room.”
“Looks to me like someone has a crush—"
But Sam’s face was earnest. And maybe turning a little cherry red at the accusation. “Dean.”
Dean huffed. “Fine, fine, we’ll interrogate her and see what she says. If she’s a witch, we just gank her. Problem solved.”
“But—”
The sound of footsteps were reapproaching. The brothers fell quiet.
“Here we go.” Ringed fingers clinked against the side of an ornate red pot where you leaned over Sam’s shoulder. Steaming black liquid slipped into the teacup resting against it’s matching saucer in front of him.
His breath caught in his throat.
“You like the sandwiches?” You aimed at Dean.
He nodded, “Yeah, great stuff.”
You rounded the table and Sam worked hard not to make eye contact with the expanse of thigh peeking up at him as you moved.
“I have to admit, I really wish you’d brought along your angel.” You poured into Dean’s cup.
His head flickered up at the comment. “Cas?”
“I’m a big fan of his.” Your voice buzzed with eagerness, “The whole rebellion against heaven thing. I thought it was really cool.”
To label Cas "his angel" was a fair assessment. The matching fleshy red handprint on each of their chests had confirmed it a long time ago.
Dean nodded slowly. “I’ll be sure to pass on the message.”
You smiled and it made Sam’s stomach contents bubble again. He was starting to worry that maybe you really had cursed him.
The chair grumbled against the grass where you pulled it out. “Right, so I’m assuming you guys are here to question me? Kill me maybe?”
Awkward silence fell. Dean and Sam exchanged glances.
“Uh—”
“Well—”
Between another bout of laughter, you poured your own cup. “Don’t worry. You’re not the first, probably not the last.”
Dean took a long enough break from scarfing food down his gullet to look up at you. “Yes. To question you, for now.”
You nodded. Eyes finding Sam.
“What about you, Bigfoot? Here to kill me?”
Sam reached deep to find his voice again. “Uhm, just a few questions.”
Smiling, you sat further back in your chair. “Great. Go right ahead then.”
“How do you know who we are?” Dean leapt right in, repeating what had been previously left unanswered.
“Someone like me’s gotta know when hunters are moving in and out of town, don’t you think?”
“Someone like you?”
“Yep.” You nodded, seemingly unwilling to offer more than what was being asked.
Sam leaned forward. “So you are a witch then.”
You chuckled under your breath, leaning forward to stir your coffee as if he hadn’t tossed an accusation in your lap. “I see you’ve been speaking to people around town.”
Nobody answered.
So you filled the space again.
“No, I’m not a witch. Slimy bunch them, but then again, I guess you’re not too far off.”
“So what then?” Dean’s voice held that rough edge that dripped through when he was growing annoyed.
Grinning, you shrugged.
A chime, like a ringing sleigh bell, filled the space. Sam’s eyes were drawn just past your shoulders where a tall pair of opal pearlescent wings had appeared behind your head.
“No fucking way.”
Sam choked around nothing. There was a long pause, interjected with a long stare between the brothers across your table.
“Fairies don’t … they don’t exist.”
You reached for a sip of your coffee, looking unperterbed. “Dryad, actually. Give it a google.”
The wings shivered against the movement.
"So what," Dean's glare was heated over the set table, "Evil fairy godmother is that it? What did you do with the kids, eat them?"
For the first time since he'd lain eyes on you, Sam could make out a shine of something unkind crossed your features.
You set the teacup down slowly and your eyes met Dean's with the same heat of the sun glaring down into the garden: "I had nothing to do with those children going missing. I loved them."
Sam wanted to interject, but his chest was tight ... a straining grip of guilt was tightening his throat. She's cursed me, she's cursed me, she's cursed me--
"A couple of the parents said their kids used to come visit around here. Visit the witch at the end of town. That true?"
Gathering a breath and another sip from your cup, your face distorted from indignant to disconsolate. Sam could feel the tightness in his chest ebbing.
You nodded.
"Yes. That's true." From behind your seat, accurate to your predictions, the wide white outline of a snake-- of Lydia-- was creeping through the grass.
Dean's eyes fixated on her approach, all way up until she bound the foot of your chair up into your chest. She rested her head there like a lap dog. You stroked a hand over her head like one too.
"They used to come visit," you continued, "after school some days. I'd make them tea and cupcakes, and they'd come to visit my animals. I taught them about the trees."
A fond look had crawled onto your features. There was another tinkle of bells and the wings behind you disappeared.
"Now nobody comes. Parents are scared. They think I'm ... hiding their children in my basement or something."
Dean surveyed you for a few moments, seemingly deciding you were of little enough danger to dare another piece of white chocolate cake.
"Yeah, you can spare us the pity party sister." He muttered around his fork.
Sam sent him a short lived look. "Well, then if it's not you--"
"We haven't yet decided that it's not you, just by the way."
"--then what is it? Surely you have some idea?"
Lydia was curling up around the back of your neck now. Your eyes found Sam's - he momentarily felt like he was melting - and you sighed softly.
"I've heard some things, nothing definitive." Your hand stroked over the section of the snake still draped in your lap. "It's coming from the forest."
"And you heard this where?" Dean's tone dripped with skepticism.
"The trees told me."
Where Sam was sure would normally be laughter echoing from his older brother, instead, his hand stilled over his plate.
THE TREES.
His eyes flickered to Sam. It was quiet. Dad's journal.
"You can speak to trees?" Sam question was clement.
You seemed refreshed by it, watching him for a moment before nodding. "Part of the gig."
Another silence fell. You sighed. Sam could smell Dean's thoughts from across the table.
"Let me get this straight." Dean cleared his throat, leaning forward in his chair. "You're the garden fairy and you're telling us that the trees have something to do with this? Not really working your best angle here, if you ask me."
The garden rustled again. A white duck emerged from one of the bushes followed by a string of ducklings. You shrugged tiredly.
"I'm trying to help." Your voice was soft. Melancholic.
Your hand reached for a strawberry sitting on a tower of others just past Sam's cup, crocheted sleeve slipping back to your elbow to reveal the scores of golden, beaded jangling bracelets and--
Sam's blood ran all the way icy, turning to a slurry in his veins.
"Care to explain that?" Dean's voice came passing over him as if said from the end of a very long corridor.
Twisting your wrist to look, you shook your head. You grabbed the strawberry and brought it to your lips with the other hand.
"Oh, this?" A jagged scar peaked from the edge of your elbow up into the palm of your hand. It shone pink with marred tissue. "You think I got this from kidnapping children?"
Sam's heartbeat was ringing in his ears, he gripped the edge of his seat with whitened knuckles. His eyes chased up to the side of your face, finding the little spot by your eyebrow where ... the end was split with the mark of the edge of a blade in a fight gone wrong.
"Not mine unfortunately." You continued, dissolving the strawberry to pieces between your lips. "My other half's. I swear they're a bull-fighter or a boxer the way they bang me up."
Somewhere a bird chirped. There was a turbo washing machine in Sam's stomach on full blast and he thought he was about to be sick. At the same time, he was washed over by a feeling of inexplicable warmth. Like a cooled stream of bubbling champagne down his gullet. Like how they always said it might feel. Only now he could put a feeling to the talk.
"Listen, if we find out you've got something to do--"
"D-Dean," Sam's voice tripped over pebbles, "We should go."
The hands now released from the edges of his seat were shaking and his palms were scorching.
Dean looked at him, confusion tugging on his hardened face. Sam thought he might argue, but he nodded slowly. Maybe he noticed his brother's red, sweating face. Again, maybe he was just bored.
"Uh, yeah." He started to push the chair out, but his eyes drifted on a ham and cheese sandwich lingering on his plate. He hesitated.
You jumped up quickly, wrapping Lydia like a scarf, all in the same motion. "I've got a box you can take some food, if you'd like? I could just run inside--?"
"That would be great--"
"No, that's really not necessary--"
Your eyes drifted to Sam, waving him off with a smile that buckled his knees now that he was standing. "Don't be ridiculous. Let me go grab them."
Figure disappearing into the house again, Dean surveyed his brother. "What's up with you?"
Sam didn't answer. In fact he didn't say anything at all until you'd returned, Dean had stuffed as many sandwiches and pieces of cake he could fit into the tupperware and you packed Sam a box against his will.
Not as soon as he would have liked, they were standing at the door again out on the porch front.
"We'll be back, probably." Dean quipped officially, but he lifted the box of food all the same. "Oh, and uh ... thanks."
You were smiling again. "Sure. You know where to find me."
Not for the first time that morning, Sam was struggling to peel his gaze off your face. Your eyes were a swirling mess of colour and the light was flickering off of them at him.
"I'll see you around, Bigfoot."
Your shoulder peeked at him from under your top, a deep red welt matching his own left collarbone.
He nodded curtly, turning back down the path even before his brother. His collar was sticky against his neck and his brain was firing off signals the whole walk down, it begged him to turn back.
Dean jogged to catch up.
"What the hell is going--"
Sam slammed the door on him, crashing into the passenger's seat. He began ripping off his suit, the black jacket flung mindlessly into the back of the Impala.
By the time Dean fell into the driver's seat he was already fighting against the button securing the shirt to his right wrist.
"You have been acting all sorts of crazy since we got here, Sammy. What the hell is--"
Sam pried back the sleeve: bunching it at his elbow. He stuck his arm out to his brother.
Dean glanced between his face and his arm only once before pausing. The long jagged scar from his palm up his arm was impossible to miss. The one that sat identical on your arm.
"Oh."
Sam was sucking in deep breaths through his nose.
Dean's eyebrows rose into his hairline. He let off a disbelieving laugh.
"Well, I'll be damned."
-
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libbee · 2 years ago
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Marry a Venus in 8h or Scorpio
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While Scorpio and 8th House have some similarities: need for transformation, interest in deep and dark matters, intensity of emotions; they are still different as in 8th house deals with other people's money, a secretive life, lots of secrets, dealing with partnership, death and rebirth.
What is seen with these natives, especially ladies, is that their relationship or marriage is never "stable". You see how ladies like to flaunt their husbands, post pictures and how much they love their partner to social media and be in public eye? But these natives are the kind to hide their relationship. As if it is not true love if it needs public approval. Also, we see how couples stay the same way 5+ or 15+ years later as if nothing has changed; but for these 8th houser couples, they reborn so many times that they don't even know who they were 5 months back. Two different types of lives!
Here, the wife and husband/girlfriend and boyfriend are both cynical type, suspicious, reading people, their intentions, behaviour, motivations, emotions. They never relax until they get to the root of any matter and then pick another matter and question, question, question everything. Trust is important to them, even more than euphoria of love.
Why Trust?
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Their life theme is usually that their childhood and relationship history are such that it is twisted, confusing, as if they were sleepwalking through a relationship and never really there. For this reason, when the relationship finally breaks down, they begin to realize how it was all just a delusion! Here, a relationship or situationship is the catalyst to bring all childhood memories to the surface and healing is a prerequisite to a better improved relationship. But all this is not easy! When they awaken from the state of "sleepiness" then their reality is shifted! Oh, I missed that red flag! Oh-he was keeping secrets from me! Oh, that was manipulation tactic! Oh, he was just like my father!! Their reality is shattered and results in cognitive dissonance, chaos, breakdown, obsessive rumination, ego dissolves, problems with self concept come to surface. "Healing" for them means to work on their Self Concept, that is, identity, confidence, self respect, boundaries, getting rid of emotional brain fog, learning what a relationship is supposed to look like, learning individuation.
8th house Venus is natural shadow worker. She intuitively knows the traits, flaws, faults, motivations, darkness and morbidity in other people. But her tendency is to integrate those dark parts in herself which is why 8H dissolves the boundary between right and wrong, bad and good, moral and immoral. To understand herself, she understands other humans. Not just the light and positive parts but the psychopathic, criminal, morbid, terrifying, scary human psychology. It is like food to her soul, to know the suffering and pain in the world. A sadist or a spiritually awakened being?
Since cognitive dissonance is a big thing for her, her no 1 priority in relationship is someone whom she can trust. Someone who will maintain her reality, will be honest, give her emotional security and keep her mentally stable. A dishonest or deceptive lover is her nightmare because the chaos of "figuring out my boyfriend" will drain her. She needs someone who is transparent and self aware so that her emotions are stablized and fears under control.
Husband
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Like attracts like. Boyfriend/husband himself is mirror to these ladies. He is also suspicious, cynical, peeling layers of emotions, craving depth, has unstable self concept unless he is actively working on it, jealousy and possessive are not cute things, they are symptoms of weak Self concept. Since both parties are similar in nature, they understand each other. But not every marriage is that fulfilling! Sometimes partners are really incompatible or the awakening never happens, 8th house never activates. So, just 8th placement is not enough but the timing and dasha will determine how spiritual, healer, psychic they are.
Partner may have this past history, all or any of them:
Man with trauma, dark childhood
Loving a man with dark past
Scapegoat of his family
Fragile masculinity, emasculated by society
Emotionally neglected by his parents
Her man needs healing, security and understanding
He is a hunter type, fears abandonment, controlling
Mommy issues, his mom was a dragon, devours him, he is afraid of his femininity
Man is psychically penetrating, hyperalert, always reading the room, sensitive to energy, psychic types
Most Important
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If Venus is in 8th house, this marriage is life changing. Transformative. Significant status difference between maiden life and married life. "Woah! She married that gentleman! He is so rich." Like in Pride and Prejudice, Elizabeth Bennett marries Mr. Darcy who is high class, wealthy and royalty type. There is something luxurious, old money, typical about this marriage. A typical politically connected or socially prestigious family. Sometimes people say 8th house is Karmic, fated, to let go control, money owed to them. I wonder if it is their husband who is paying back her debts to her? Is that why marriage transforms her life? Is marriage a karmic contract to pay back her loan given to husband? Perhaps it is.
Forced to Inner World
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At some point in her life, she realized that her life was not quite same as others. She got aware of "psyche" something which has no evidence and is not scientific or physically seen. But for these natives, they are intuitively aware of psyche and how it surrounds us everywhere. In Man and His Symbols, Dr. Carl Jung says how the primitive people were so unconscious that they simply acted on their impulses and the images they saw in their head. They even thought that the animals and trees were their soul/spirit and were deeply submerged in the unconscious. 8th house is like that state of unconsciousness and then you come to awareness with a shock and again go back to unconsciousness. We are living in a flow state and only when something crisis, emergency or catastrophic happens that we awaken and soon go back to the flow state. That "awakening" is the hallmark of this house.
Another thing to be seen here is that these natives are forced to live in the inner world. They do not choose spirituality but have no choice - are forced to choose it. Since their emotions and conscience are quite sharp, they "feel" their way through life. (Trigger warning death) Let's say you killed your parents' dog accidentally and hid it in their own backyard and then lied about it to your parents when they asked where dog is. As the days go by, you feel that regret growing larger and larger. It creeps on you, eats you from inside, feels heavy in your body. That "I did something wrong" feeling never goes away. Imagine living with that feeling 24x7, that is your conscience.
For these natives, their conscience is just hyperactive. It is their guide through life. If they dismiss their conscience, they are faced with external consequences in physical life. There is a saying "As above, so below" which fits to these natives, which means that the inner life and outer life are just the reflection of each other. If we sit back to think about the past, we realize how everything is connected to everything else. That nothing was random. Self-reflection and pattern seeking are highlighted in this house. Any planet that is placed in 8th or 12th house is partially submerged in the underworld and the only way to maintain a life is to dig that "hidden" something. Occult tools, psychoanalysis, reading people, meditation are really helpful to make the unconscious comprehensible. This way they can even avoid the unnecessary unpreditable sufferings of this house.
I have seen how native if lives absent mindedly, without thinking of their actions, they always face instant karma in physical life or the psychic life. In psychic world, they feel guilt, unexplainable regret, negative emotions, shame, depression, etc. If they ignore these symptoms for too long, it will all explode with a blast BUT the healing will finally begin. For the sake of your mental stability, keep doing self reflection and avoid unnecessarily events and suffering.
It takes some time and understanding to realize what Self awareness means. The society we live in, cultural and social behaviours are contrary to self awareness. We live in an extraverted, materialistic, narcissistic society; you have to just be opposite of that -- introverted, spiritual and empathetic. These natives are not born healers, they are wounded healers. They may even feel external locus of control and surrender to psychic forces because their life is just so stormy.
My only advice is: To keep your eyes open! Just because your friends or some celebrities can indulge in behaviours and get away with it, it does not mean that you can too. Instant Karma is something that happens in 8th housers life a lot. Once you identify it, you can then change your behaviour and language to avoid these suffering.
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dudepilled · 1 month ago
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Hi! What do you think of Java Dude from the old (and forgotten) Postal mobile game? If you are familiar with this
Also, I'm wondering how you see the P1/Redux Dude, as a religious person or more like a Satanist/anarchist? Do you have any headcanons about the Dude's past and his family?
These are really good questions I have a lot of thoughts on so buckle in!
I don't know much about the mobile game but I like how it's more true to Postal 1 style wise with the themes of Postal 2. I find it funny he's the only Dude portrayed without his glasses lol
I see P1 as religious due to the themes of Postal 1. However Redux Dude is different to me. While I view P1 as a paranoid schizophrenic with religious trauma, I view Redux as a genuine psychopath with no regard for human life. They're the same person but at different ends of the spectrum. If you played both games, you'd know that the journal entries before the levels are different. In the original Postal, the journal entries have an undertone of fear and survival while in Redux, they're much more sinister sounding. Do I believe in the demon theory? Not really. It's a fun AU thing but that's all it is to me.
While it is fun to say "Corkscrew is Dude's Russian cousin!", I think honestly he was an only child. I have a feeling he wouldn't remember much of his childhood either (either due to trauma, the drugs, or just time). He'd probably remember key moments but wouldn't remember everything. He very much lives in the moment and would probably view his past as an afterthought
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xbalayage · 1 year ago
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I WILL GO ON A WHOLE RANT ABOUT SILVIO.
Yes, he's an asshole at first, but if you give his route a chance, you see underneath all that hard exterior and everything that led for him to act and be that way in the first place. He isn't actually like that at all inside!! He cares so much and so fucking deeply; someone who actually hates his brother wouldn't have looked for him non-stop for three years. Or have gotten him matching gold earrings that Rio and him both still wear!! They have a 'I hate your guts, but I'd do anything for you' relationship. They're brothers. He was abused by the king several times physically and literally tortured and the queen both mentally and physically fucked up his views on things. Rio's mother was the only one that showed him love and understanding and even tried protecting Rio and his mother. He had to provide for himself when he was a KID. He didn't even get to have a childhood! Their brother is a psychopath who tried killing Rio and putting the blame on Silvio which the king's dumb ass believed! Because he hates Silvio! And through his route, he goes through such character development. Even to the point he finally decides to open up and be vulnerable with MC. He knew from the beginning that she was Belle and yet, still protected her and went through extra tribulations just to protect her. He actually doesn't even care for the glitz and glam! He wears all the fancy shit he does because it shows his wealth and power to other people so nobody fucks with him! This boy has gone so long without physical touch and someone who actually wants to see good for him that he pushes any and everybody away, for their sake! He says the opposite of what he means! He uses excuses to make up for his actions. Yes, he blamed Rio a lot through his route and pinned it all on that he just wants to annoy and take everything away from him that's his but in truth, he was trying to portray himself as The Bad Guy to keep himself from acknowledging his true feelings for both MC and his brother.
I probably missed A LOT because I'm just writing this at once on my phone but PLEASE give this boy a chance. He just wants to be loved and doesn't fully understand how to even do that. Money is all he's ever known that's been consistent and has gotten him everything he's ever wanted and needed. Now, he meets a woman with a pure heart, he finds his brother again and all he wants to do is protect them, even if that means he fails.
Silvio's character, in my unbiased opinion, story is so good once you get down to the nitty gritty of the core of his character, the relationships he's been around, the role he's played for years, and finally coming to terms that it's okay to be vulnerable and be loved.
I respect any all who may not like him, but I hope this rant, my entire blog and speaking to me could help you at all to understand and possibly love this puppy as much as I do. I love you all. <3
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bleue-flora · 6 months ago
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Okay I know I said I wasn’t going to talk about discduo anymore, and I meant it. I did. But then I saw the clip of cc!Tommy [post] talking about them and a few people saying how clingy duo didn’t know that they hurt c!Dream, and how c!Dream was just this unreasonable psychopath who drove c!Tommy to want to kill himself… and well I just feel like I can’t stand by while Dream gets slandered after I was being nice to c!Tommy.
So... that brings us here, where to the best of my memory and ability, I’d like to look at c!Tommy as being part of the Antisocial Personality Disorder spectrum. Because here’s the thing, I’ve seen people refer to him as some golden boy, who’s caring and has a good heart, but I’m gonna just be honest, I just don’t see it. From what I can tell, we accuse c!Dream of having no empathy, but I don’t think I’ve really seen c!Tommy show any.
Now granted, I’m definitely no psychologist or whatever, and in the real world diagnosing these disorders is a very intense and extensive process. Especially because there is no true way to know whether an individual has empathy or not since we can’t exactly read their minds or feelings. So we really only have their behavior to study. Having said all that though, here’s why I actually think c!Tommy is perhaps the “psychopath” or since that term is no longer medically used, has Antisocial Personality Disorder (ASPD) in which psychopathy is sometimes considered a subtype of.
And yes, while I am more than aware that I clearly have dsmp favorites and therefore am biased, I have to say when I was rewatching lore I didn’t expect to come to this conclusion, but something about this scene specifically in the finale bothered me.
[clip] Dream: “Why are you–why are you trying to—ruin everything all the time?” Tommy: “Cuz that was just me having fun with my friends, Dream, but I didn’t–I didn’t…” Dream: “Ah-you just stealing my shit and a—griefing my friends’ houses and breaking shit?” Tommy: “I just didn’t realize how much that hurt you.”
Because c!Tommy essentially just straight up admits to enjoying harming others. In fact, is so clueless he doesn’t grasp that killing and breaking and stealing and griefing hurts people. And like how can you possibly tell me that someone at the age of 18 years old can be so oblivious to other people’s suffering. Because he sure didn’t like it when people griefed or trapped his house, stole from him, and killed him, but somehow didn’t know that other people also didn’t like that. I mean, there’s just no way someone can be that clueless, I don’t care how old they are, even children know better than to just push their friend down the stairs because it’s funny. 
Like I don't think this is just the behavior of some flawed teenager, but of someone with a lack of empathy or ASPD, which the National Library of Medicine says this about, “Antisocial personality disorder is characterized by a pervasive and enduring pattern of disregarding and violating the rights of others, typically emerging in childhood or early adolescence and persisting throughout an individual's life. This disorder significantly impacts interpersonal and occupational functioning, often leading to profound impairments in overall quality of life. Individuals with antisocial personality disorder frequently engage in criminal behavior and struggle to learn from the negative consequences of their actions” [source], And I don’t know about you, but doesn’t that sound like c!Tommy? Even further the Millon Theory has this to say about Antisocial (ADAntis) individuals, “Prone to lessened emotional resonance and a marked lack of empathy, those individuals evidencing ADAntis patterns actively seek out what they feel is their entitlement. ADAntis individuals often feel slighted by their circumstances and believe they must take in order to receive. They are impulsive by nature and uncaring about any damage they may inflict on others or themselves” [source].
In other words, someone who does and takes without thinking of others as if they are entitled to it. A great example of this is c!Tommy just up and killing c!Purpled for no reason and stealing c!Tubbo’s resources before they battle c!Dream again for the discs, where c!Tubbo notes that c!Tommy has a ‘shit moral compass’ [clip]. There is also the stream I love to bring up of c!Tommy stealing from c!Tubbo, killing his bee and then burning his house, and not giving anything but a half assed apology of 'I didn’t mean to burn your house down that much’ and ‘I didn’t mean to kill your bee I was just giving him a high five’ [post] and that’s how he treats his best friend, one he drags into war after war. c!Tommy more than once highlights how pain is real in the dsmp whether a non-canonical death or a punch and yet shows no regard for holding back hurting others, whether that's burning c!Techno [clip] or throwing a harming potion at him when he’s found in the basement [clip], lighting c!Dream on fire with a bucket of lava on the first day of Exile [clip & clip], killing c!Alyssa just cuz she’s there and a woman [clip], stabbing c!Dream as he fills in a creeper hole in c!Tommy's yard no less [clip], how bout just dragging c!Tubbo into wars to risk his life and experience pain over some replaceable discs… etc just as some examples off the top of my head I've have seen recently. 
I mean he doesn’t seem to care about others. When c!Tubbo needs help, where’s c!Tommy, like when he goes after c!Sam after he killed his husband and kidnapped his son he teams up with all the people who have killed him. Where the freak is c!Tommy - the one he fought so many wars with. Heck in the finale, c!Tubbo charges into what might be certain death, even after disagreeing with c!Tommy and reasoning that maybe they shouldn’t kill c!Dream [clip]. Oh and then of course, I've talked about his behavior towards c!Punz in the beginning too, of him helping clingy duo and then c!Tommy plotting to stab him the next minute [post]. 
And he struggles so hard to separate the value of items over the living [clip], seen no clearer than his struggle multiple times with putting the discs over c!Tubbo. And as I talked about when looking at c!Quackity at some point, people without empathy can love but it’s more like loving chocolate where they can enjoy it but there is no consideration for a candy bar’s well-being or feelings - people are more so just there to be used than cared about, and isn’t that what he does with c!Tubbo? With c!Techno? With c!Dream? Using them as a weapon and for their resources and then tossing them aside. Certainly not having their back when they need it, something c!Techno highlights pretty well in his speech about being a person [clip].
Perhaps our biggest clue should be how revolved his character arc is about understanding the value of items and how people are more important, as he finally in the finale gives up his discs for Tubbo’s life…
I don’t know maybe I’m wrong, but all I’m saying is I have yet to see a scene that really shows c!Tommy as caring or empathic, instead I see more so the telltale signs and behavior of someone with Antisocial Personality Disorder… who’s the psychopath now? *mic drop*
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dayangaytransman · 9 months ago
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Warnings: mention of Transphobia, Homophobia, Self harm, Suicide, Gender Dysphoria and depression
I translated this with the help of AI so I don't know how much of it is correct. Sorry for bad english
I just want to share this; otherwise, I might do something that makes everyone upset
I am a Trans man/Transmasc/Genderfluid person. I use any pronouns except She/Her.
In my country, they won't let me transition, but they also don't want me near them pre- transition
I tell doctors and people who say they can help me that I need testosterone.
But they tell me if they give that to me, I will have a beard and I will regret it! I want a beard! WTF!
A doctor said to me that he cannot give me testosterone, but I can buy it and inject it myself! They don’t sell medicines like that without a doctor’s permission.
I look like a woman, or a 12-year-old cis boy.
I am 19 years old
And when people meet me, a grown man, they see a child and act accordingly. They call me little and short, and I can’t tell people in public how old I am, but they always ask.
I hate myself because I don’t look like the grown man I am. I am 153 cm and 42 kg. I am short, skinny, and have a baby face.
I sometimes present as feminine, and when I do, people in public say unkind things to me. They even try to harm me.
I live in a place where the government executes gay men and I am afraid when they see me as a gay boy.
I live in a Muslim country, so they expect me to wear a hijab, even though I am not Muslim.
I can’t transition here, even if they allow it. The doctors don’t know what they’re doing. I don’t want to be a laboratory mouse. Once, the most famous doctor was accused of killing a person just from a mastectomy! I want a healthy, beautiful, normal body.
I can’t travel for transition because I am very poor, and in my country, even $10,000 is a lot. Even with 100 years of working, I couldn’t accumulate that much money.
But they won’t even let me work or study! Many LGBTQIA+ people here have been expelled from school.
In my country, a trans person is a psychopath. Many of us don’t have an ID ( of our true gender) , and we can’t live like this.
I can’t attend classes, such as an art class, or visit any doctor. They require an ID, and even when they don’t, I don’t want to out myself or have them touch and examine my body.
I experience all forms of dysphoria that exist. I am dealing with depression, childhood trauma, ADHD, social anxiety, among other issues.
I tried to kill myself twice. I have left school. I don’t want to leave the house, but I am trying to change these things, and I can’t seem to do so.
And you know what? Nobody cares!
Do you think all transgender individuals speak English and reside in countries that are friendly to the queer community?
I cannot create a GoFundMe here; there is no supportive organization or similar entity available. Everyone here hates me and can easily kill me.
I am gay, and my relationships have always been toxic.
Men do not perceive me as a man.
My father left me; my mother just doesn’t care about me, and my brother is my biggest enemy.
I cry every day, and I don’t know if I want to be alive anymore. When I tell all my friends and family, even those who can see my tears, they don’t care.
I don't know what to do.
I see people on the internet who just need to turn 18 to transition, try a little bit harder, or travel to another city.
I do not have these privileges. I have wanted testosterone for four years and have tried to obtain it in the way the government indicated, but they have not provided it to me.
I hate my chest, My high, My face, My... My everything
I feel inadequate because I am unable to study, work, or even travel to see my boyfriend and best friend.
I remain alive because if I were to die, there would be no one to feed my cat. He/it is all I have in this world.
People often ask whether I am a girl or a boy. They always tell me that I am short and small, and insist that I can’t be older than they are.
I AM A GROWN ASS MAN!
Imagine calling Tom Ellis or Henry Cavill cute, little, and girlish.
And when my gender changes because I am genderfluid, it gets worse. And I don't feel like a woman.
Nobody here understands what ‘non-binary’ means.
They don’t understand the meaning of ‘trans’ either.
They refer to us by a term that I cannot repeat because it is an offensive word. A bad word that means: a person who is a prostitute has two genitals and is mentally insane. And they want transgender individuals to fully transition. Otherwise, they won’t give them an ID. And who do you think are the ones who say who is trans and who is not? The government! Actually, it’s the psychologists, but mostly the government. You need to prove yourself to them, and I tried hard, but I failed.
Even my family doesn’t see me as an adult—a man who is 19 years old.
Most of the day, I talk to AI because it is kind and knows what it is doing.
Here people think we are sex workers. That Trans people are always horny!
I have dysphoria, so I am not horny, even when I want to be. I can't even masturbate. I can't even look at it.
Here if they find out, they can send me to jail because I am an AFAB person without Hijab. All the people here are transphobic and I can't do shit about it.
And... Nobody in the world cares... I have no doubt that you do not even know the geographical location of my country.
Queer people in my country are the most miserable people on the planet. And they are against each other more than anywhere else. Gay men don't want me around them here ,same as Trans men. And they all hate non-binary people, Polyamorus people and people like me who have more than 10 labels.
I want to grow one day and become an artist, a writer, and an LGBTQIA+ activist. But also I want to kill myself. I want to become manly, sexy, hairy, and big But on the other hand, I want to hurt myself. I want to study philosophy, literature, and languages, but I also hate them because they don’t include someone like me.
I want to write LGBTQIA+ stories in my native language to contribute to my community. But this is illegal here.
I want to do anything and everything, but I know all of this is a dream, and just a dream
All I can do is cry and wonder if I should kill myself
I am sorry if this makes you upset, but I need to say these things to the world.
I wish I were AMAB, or if not, a wealthy person so I could transition. And if not that, then Canadian, European, or even American, so the transition would not be just a dream. Or if I am none of these, at least to not have all the dysphoria in the world, from top to bottom, from voice to face, to height to hips to…
Why? Just... Why?
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l0sercat · 2 years ago
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Yandere Alphabet w/ Danny Johnson
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Affection — how do they show their love and affection?
Cook you a small dinner and watch horror movies together. Also tend to your wounds.
Blood — how messy are they willing to get when it comes to their darling?
Very messy. Will kill anyone for you. Does not take time to learn anything about them or stalk them just kill them.
Cruelty — how would they treat their darling once abducted?
He will be cruel. If you behave he won't hurt you badly. But if you act up he's gonna hurt you terribly. He gets off on your suffering.
Darling — aside from abduction, would they do anything against their darling’s will?
Yes 💀 Will use your body for his pleasure and torture you for hours.
Exposed — how vulnerable are they when it comes to their darling?
Not very exposed. He will never fully open up to you even if you have been together for years.
Fight — how would they feel if their darling fought back?
He would be amused but after a while he will be annoyed. He likes them feisty but not too rough.
Game — is this a game to them? How much would they enjoy watching their darling try to escape?
It's not really a game. It would be amusing for the first few times but after a while it would piss him off.
Hell — what would be their darling’s worst experience with them?
When he tortured them for hours. They pissed him off too many times and he decided to take things into his own hands.
Ideals — what kind of future do they have in mind for their darling?
One where they are obedient and loving. They will do anything for him and not question him.
Jealousy — do they get jealous? How do they handle it?
He can get a little jealous. He would walk up and weak his arms around you. He would whisper in your ear and kiss on your neck and whisk you away. Then you get fucked for the next couple hours.
Kisses — how do they act around or with their darling?
He can be cold and narcissistic. Also no boundaries and the word no doesn't exist to him so...But he can be caring when he's really tired.
Love letters — how would they go about approaching their darling?
Walk up to you at a bar or a place that is convenient. He would smooth talk you and try to woo you. Try to win you over normally. If that doesn't work then he'll kidnap you.
Mask — are their true colors drastically different from the way they act around everyone else?
Yes. With people he is decently friendly but with you he doesn't put on a mask. He can be rude or caring in his own way.
Naughty — how would they punish their darling?
He would torture them. By tying them up and using their body. Cutting them up and raping them or even psychological torture
Oppression — how many rights would they take away from their darling?
He is gonna take all the rights away. Darling will never have a say so over their body. He will use them for however he needs.
Patience — how patient are they with their darling?
He is decently patient with darling.
Quite — if their darling dies, leaves, or successfully escapes, would they ever be able to move on?
If darling dies he probably won't move on because he doesn't want to deal with the hassle of having to hide his other life. If darling escapes he will search for you until he finds you. You have a 50-50 chance of successfully escaping.
Regret — would they ever feel guilty about abducting their darling?
No 💀
Stigma — what brought about this side of them (childhood, curiosity, etc)?
Nothing he's just a psychopath 💀 He does deep down care about you in his own messed up way though
Tears — how do they feel about seeing their darling scream, cry, and/or isolate themselves?
He gets off on it. He loves to see you cry and beg for mercy. It's gets him immediately hard when your on his hands and knees, grabbing his clothes, looking at him with teary doe eyes begging him to stop hurting you.
Unique — would they do anything different from the classic yandere?
He won't worship you or treat you like a princess/prince. Instead your gonna worship him.
Vice — what weakness can their darling exploit in order to escape?
He's gone for hours and really busy with his stalking and work.
Wit’s end — would they ever hurt their darling?
Yes. You hurt him to badly and your gonna be in a world of pain. He will tie you up and cut you and then rape you. Use your body for whatever he wants.
Xoanon — how much would they revere or worship their darling?
He's not gonna worship you. Instead your gonna worship him.
Yearn — how long do they pine after their darling before they snap?
It would take months to a year. He would meet you at a bar or a place where it's convenient and talk with you. He'd try to woo you but if that doesn't work he'll kidnap you.
Zenith — would they ever break their darling?
Yes. If you don't fall for him or give into Stockholm syndrome he will break you.
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