#not being able to ask for help because truly its pathetic

[odysseys-blood]

honestly atp i think im kinda just waiting to see what'll make me throw in the towel bc im not sure living is worth it but i wasnt sure of that last month or last year either. its just an ongoing apathy and nothing gets better and i cant push myself to try and do better either bc of how low i feel like im starting out

[realisticjupiter]

haihaii!! your profile has been like.... THERAPY to me bc the aib fixation is back AND ITS STRONG ESPECIALLY TOWARDS CHISHIYA 💔💔💔 i love the way u write as well !!

so with this could i request a touch starved chishiya... like a chishiya that needs readers attention so bad but is too embarrassed to downright tell them "I WANT CUDDLES" or smth... still he does everything in his power to get readers attention atp the only thing left is to just BEG

also could i be 🎶 anon ? i picture myself being very active here from now on... have a nice day!!

Summary: Chishiya can't sleep without you.

Genre: Fluffy

Pairing: Chishiya x gn!reader

Warnings: None! :)

Word count: 784

a/n: Aghhhh i hope this is okay!!!!! That is actually so sweet of you, I'm so glad you've liked my account!!!<3 And ofc you can claim an emoji, hello 🎶!!

Chishiya tried everything to get you into bed with him. He tried seducing you, gaslighting you, and of course his manipulation tactics didn't work either.

All you were focused on was trying to fix the phone from last night's game. It was still on, so you thought it would be easier to get into before it powered off.

Every time he'd call your name, you'd brush him off. Mostly because he always used a certain tone of voice you've become far too familiar with when he tries to get what he wants.

All he wanted to do was kneel at your feet to tell you exactly what he wanted. To tell you he just wanted you to hold him, to tell you all he needed was your attention.

But he couldn't. He never has been able to ask for help, or ask for anything without feeling vulnerable for that matter. He was closed off, that's what people knew about him; that he didn't show those types of emotions in fear of being belittled.

Chishiya could feel his eyelids getting heavy and his eyes burning from keeping them open, but he knew no matter how hard he would toss and turn; he wouldn't be able to sleep without you.

It was pathetic, he'd admit that. It was a loop he found himself getting stuck into, and found there was no way out of it. He hid it pretty well, though. Through late nights where you'd fall asleep alone and wake up to him beside you. You truly had no idea he struggled so much.

He was so tired. He'd do anything if you'd just stop and sleep already.

And he found his last option, the one thing he dreaded the most.

"Y/n?" Chishiya whispered, his voice husky as he climbed out of bed and walked towards you with slow steps.

"What?" You hummed in response, never peeling your eyes away from the task at hand.

"Please," He spoke underneath his breath in an almost incoherent whisper as he stopped to stand beside the chair you sat in.

"I don't know what you want, Chishiya. No one is keeping you awake." You sighed, watching from the corner of your eye as he stood by your side, rubbing his eyes with his palms.

"You're keeping me awake." He murmured, watching your hands as they played around with the device's motherboard.

"How?" You said in defeat, finally turning your attention to him. You looked up at him with your hands thrown in your lap, clearly waiting for his response.

He let out a huff as he looked around the room; avoiding eye contact. When he finally looked at you, his eyes were soft and glassed over.

His next sentence was incoherent.

"What?"

[inaudible]

"Chishiya. Speak up, please." Your words were soft as you stood up from your seat, placing your hands on his upper arms.

"I can't sleep without you." He finally spoke, his words finally registering in your mind.

When he realized you had finally heard him, he felt like he could say anything. And with his new found confidence he continued to speak.

"Why is it so hard to ask you to touch me?" He breathed, letting his head fall onto your shoulder.

You smiled at his soft demeanour. You knew how hard it must've been for him to admit something so close to himself, especially since it was about you. You've found a new side of Chishiya you haven't seen before.

You brought a hand to comb through his hair as the other scratched up and down his bare back, "I'm sorry, Chishiya. I should've just read your mind." You whispered against his shoulder as you held him close to your body.

Your words were an obvious tease, trying to humor the situation at hand. Which did make Chishiya snicker.

"You should have. You've always been able to." He muttered, wrapping his arms lazily around you.

You smiled warmly as he spoke, pulling away to drag his hand towards the bed. You climbed in with him closely behind you. He waited for you to get comfortable, before he joined you under the covers to tangle his limbs with yours.

"I'm proud of you, Chishiya." Your sultry breath hit his forehead as you mumbled against his skin.

He stared down at the way your bodies fit together, processing your words with a smile he knew you couldn't see.

"Now go to sleep, 'm here." You spoke once more into his skin, kissing his forehead and massaging your fingers into his scalp.

His cold fingers danced around your bare skin, trying to bring himself impossibly closer to you before his body fell limp into a night's sleep.

reposts and comments are appreciated <3

[cloudcountry]

a broken symbol ⤿ you bring toshinori out of his mind

comments: i have nothing to say...hello mha fandom...are we still here...

tags: sir nighteye is mentioned, fluff, established relationship, toshinori is whipped, retired toshinori, insecurities.

These days, it doesn’t take much for Toshinori to collapse. He’s been retired for quite a while now but still helps out behind the scenes, always the hero even though he deserves nothing but rest. He ends up excusing himself from his work every hour, only to run to the nearest bathroom and crumple over the first drain he can reach.

His side flares up with pain and he clutches the flesh, feeling the stretched and scarred skin that caused his health to decline so rapidly as he hacks up far too much blood. Despite everything—the scar and the blood he spits up and the way he really doesn’t have a quirk anymore and the way he can’t maintain his muscular form even if he wanted to—he still works.

And at the end of the day, his gnarled, gangly form drags its way over to you, the person he is finally able to love just a little bit, because the public knows he is All Might and he is still very much a target, and he knows he can still protect you but he’d rather not have it come to that.

Each day was harder than the last, more taxing on his broken and battered body. Even simple tasks like getting out of bed were becoming difficult, the scars and residual pain a constant reminder of just how beaten he truly was.

Why were you with a man like him?

What could he give you, really? He wasn’t young anymore, nor was he muscular or flashy. He couldn’t give you the life you deserved, with a partner the same age as you, in top condition, ready to spoil you relentlessly. Instead you got a run down, broken man, his muscles and glory gone. The only thing he could possibly offer you was his smile.

(Not the well trained one for the press, or the one he saved for victims during and after he saved them. The one that only his colleagues and his students have seen, the awkward one that droops a little on the right, the one that makes his eyes shut with peace he hasn’t known in forever, the one that accompanies a nervous laugh.)

He doesn’t notice your presence when he steps through the front door, muttering a soft “I’m home,” as he takes his shoes off in the doorway. You stand there, waiting for him with a ladle in hand, a cute apron wrapped around you. Your touch feels like an anchor when it reaches him, brushing his snarled hair away from his eyes. You look so concerned and it punches him right in the gut, guilt seeping into his expression. He feels so frail in front of you, like a giant skinny bug. Why do you treat him so gently?

Toshinori’s heart squeezes. He doesn’t deserve you. He’s pathetic, a broken symbol of peace, a reminder that he couldn’t do more for the people he wanted to protect, for his Master who bet everything on him, for young Midoriya who looked up at him with stars in his eyes.

You ask him if he’s getting in his own head again. Your words swim around his skull, only barely making sense as he ducks his head, lanky arms pulling you into his chest and holding you close. He doesn’t cry, it’s rare that he ever does, but he doesn’t stop the single tear that falls down his cheek. You hug him back immediately, pressing your hands into his back, and it feels so soft and warm.

What did he do to deserve something—someone—as soft as this?

“You’ve done everything.” you scold, holding him a little tighter.

How can you sound so gentle even when berating him for being pathetic?

No, that’s not what you were doing. You were just loving him.

“You’ve saved millions. You fought for them for decades. You stopped All for One time and time again. You’ve saved the world over and over. You’ve built society from the ground up.” you reprimand him for each mean thought he has about him, piecing him together from the ashes of his legacy.

He doesn’t say anything, slumped over on your shoulder, taking in your words like they’re the softest, sweetest thing he’s heard his whole life.

Everyone else wanted All Might. He was so, so lucky to find the person who loved Toshinori.

“I understand that the world isn’t safe yet, and I get that you will always be a hero at heart. It’s one of the many things I love about you.” you pick and choose your words carefully, he can hear it in your tone, “This is the life you chose and I won’t try to take it away from you. Just let me support you. And for the sake of the world, stop being so harsh on yourself.”

As he gazes at you, he can’t help but think that his world has narrowed down considerably since he retired. He entrusted the Earth to his students and colleagues, putting blood, sweat, and tears into the staircase he built for them, just so they could reach the highest peak and succeed in protecting everyone they cared for. He is, no matter how he feels about it, just a man now. And his world became you a while ago.

It feels selfish for him to admit that to himself. He will never stop caring about the public, the people who put their hopes and dreams on his shoulders and allowed him to carry their burdens for him, but you’re the only one who has ever really taken his burdens.

Maybe it’s because he never allowed anyone else to. He holds you just a little bit tighter, memories of friends long gone who pleaded with him not to go flashing through his mind.

“You will always be a hero, love.” you sigh, brushing his cheek with the back of your hand, “You will forever be my hero. But right now, I want you to just be you.”

That’s right. He shudders in your arms, a remnant of what once was, but this remnant loves you with every shattered bit of him.

“Right.” he says, voice low and soft.

He hardly has the energy to say anything else, but he knows he doesn’t have to.

Not when it’s you.

[loser-jpg]

HIHI OK SO LOSER. HERE ME OUT PLS. GIGGLES!!!

IF REQUESTS ARE OPEN WOULD YOU MIND. SPINNING A LIL ENEMIES TO LOVERS/FRIENDS DIDDY FOR IDIA SHROUD AND A GN READER. I WILL KISS THE GROUND YOU WALK ON I SWEAR THIS IDEA HASNT LEFT ME ALONE SINCE I STARTED LIKING HIM. ITS OK IF NOT THOUGH OBVI!! MAKE SURE U TAKE UR TIME BESTIE AND TAKE CARE OF YOURSELF <333

this is the silliest reader ive ever written

The most annoying thing about attending a prestigious academy is without a doubt, pride. The deadly sin curses every individual at NRC, all of them having been told that they are destined for greatness, fate being on their side.

This obviously leads to some of the most egotistical bastards this side of the Shaftlands being cooped up all together in the same space. Also at the age where the dumbest decisions of maintaining self confidence are made.

To you, one of the many young adults cursed with being a general annoyance was Idia Shroud. You also happened to be sat right next to him.

Funnily enough Ortho was able to convince his older brother to begin attending his classes in person, a thoughtful gesture to his brother, but not to you!

Now you had to spend every day face to face with one of the most bothersome people at the school. You made your annoyance of him very clear, too. He was an anti-social shut in who somehow still thought himself better than everyone else despite being so pathetic he couldn't speak to someone face to face. How in the world was he supposed to be a talented mage?!

The most annoying part of it all was ever since he had started going out of his comfort zone he had also seemingly started to become slightly less of an ass. It was unfair. People aren't allowed to just change out of nowhere when you hate them, you're supposed to hate them!

It didn't matter anyway, Idia Shroud hated you so you were allowed to hate him, even if you suddenly started to see that he was a troubled man, untrusting because the world had wronged him before. It didn't matter if he was simply confident because of his talent that was truly better than others, he was rude anyway.

Idia Shroud hated you, so you hated hi-

"Um, hey?" A soft voice came from your left.

"Hm?" You were so caught up in your annoyance you hadn't noticed your surroundings at all. The rest of the class had already left. And Trein too for some reason? "Crap I was not paying attention for the end of the lecture."

You had said it to yourself, but the firey haired boy with his hood pulled over his head responded anyway. "Ah, I uh... I could share my notes with you...?"

What.

"...Uh, yeah sure, thanks. That'd...that'd be helpful."

You stood up from your chair, still dazed at the peculiar situation you found yourself in. Idia tapped on his tablet a bit before your phone pinged in your pocket, a notification of a shared document bright on the screen. Since when did Idia Shroud have your number? And since when did he help out others for no reason?!

You opened the document to skim through it quickly when something near the bottom caught your eye. A small footnote about a project. A group project. A group project without pre assigned partners.

Ah, that's it.

Once again you were proven right, Idia Shroud being his typical self. He didn't speak to anyone in the class so it's inevitable he had no one to do the project with, and was sharing his notes to try and guilt you into doing it with him by making you feel in his debt-

"The uh, the project at the bottom is groups of two. I think some of the people in the row who sit behind us don't have partners yet." Idia held his tablet close to him, glancing at the door.

"You already have a partner?" Impossible, he was probably just saying that to make you to be the one to ask to be in his group, to safe himself the embarrassment of having to ask.

"Yeah, Cater had already asked me to join his group. He said Trey had grouped up before he could ask him. Well, uhm, I have to go. Uh- you- you can message me if you have questions about the notes!" Idia ran out the door before you could say anything.

...

WHAT.

Something about that made your blood boil. It wasn't jealousy though, it couldn't be. No, no it was disrespect! He said that to be condescending, to brag! To shove it in your face that even a shut in like him could join a group before you. That was his plan all along! To share his notes to get you to ask about the project just to laugh at you for trying to ask to join his group. Well the joke was on him, you'd never be his partner, group project or otherwise!

---

You weren't able to join a group. Stupid Idia Shroud neglected to tell you that those 'people in the row who sit behind us who have partners' joined up outside of class time. And then he had the gall to apologize about you not joining a group as if he hadn't totally 100% planned this.

Suffering was endless and you were ready to give up. That was until Cater Diamond came waltzing up to your row, passing by you to talk to Idia.

"Change of plans, sorry Idia, Trey's partner joined a different group so I'm gonna work with him now. Good luck on the project!"

"Huh?! Wha-?! Cater, wait-!" Idia stared in dumbfounded shock as Cater skipped away leaving both you and Idia groupless. Well at least Idia was just as pathetic as you now.

Idia turned toward you after a moment. "Uh, did you want to be group partners...? Since...since neither of us have anyone to work with?"

Not on your life, Shroud.

"Yeah, sure."

FU-

Truthfully this was the best situation with the cards you had been dealt, likely you could get him to do any of the work you didn't want to, and you'd get a good grade with him as your partner. Doesn't mean you liked the situation, but still.

"Ah, there's a relatively new cafe nearby we could work at? It- it could be better than working in any of the dorms. If you want." Idia shifted a bit, and you couldn't tell what his goal with this was. Was he planning to force you to pay or something? Suggesting leaving and going anywhere was very unlike him. Something had to be up.

---

Eventually the two of you did go to the cafe to work on your project, and when you insisted on not getting anything and just focusing on working Idia bought you a drink anyway.

"I said I didn't want anything?" You pushed the cup away an inch, the drink was colorful, fading from a deep blue at the top to a light pink at the bottom. You weren't sure what flavor it could be.

Idia drank out of his own cup, a bright red drink that looked fizzier than your own. He added something to your project on his tablet at the same time. "I know but I, uhm, I felt uncomfortable being the only one with a drink. You don't have to drink it, just keep it in front of you." Idia paused a moment before adding a rushed "please" at the end.

So you did. For maybe a minute before you couldn't help taking a sip. It was fruitier tasting than you expected, but not citrus or sour. You pulled the cup toward you to move the straw from the pink section to the blue, noticing that the darker color tasted more like some berry you couldn't pinpoint than the pink had. Overall it tasted good. So good, in fact, you drank almost half of it before you remembered you were supposed to be working.

You glanced up at Idia to see if he had noticed you absolutely chugging whatever drink it was he had gotten you, but either he was pretending he hadn't, or he was really into this project. You noticed only a small amount had been drank from Idia's cup.

You were about to say something until you decided that if Idia wanted to waste his own drink, and his own money, than so be it. And with that you stuck your head back down to finish up this project and finally be rid of having to converse with the shut in outside of class hours.

---

Sure enough your project raked in a well needed high grade, even going so far as to be personally complimented by Trein himself. You figured that'd be the end of having to talk to Idia Shroud but Seven forbid because the universe had other plans for you.

'Would you like to go see a movie'

That wasn't exactly the way he had said it, it was a lot more unconfident, and there were a few pauses halfway through, but in the end phrasing didn't matter because now you were walking down the street in the middle of a surprise spring heat spell returning from seeing a movie with your number one enemy ever. It was a good movie too which made you even more mad. Now you'd have to think of him every time you saw it which is not what you wanted to happen.

"I am about to pass out from this heat. I'm sitting down a moment." You quickly flopped down on the nearest bench, fanning yourself with your hand. "How in the world are you not burning up in that hood, Shroud?"

Idia shrugged, slowly stepping away from where you were sitting. "I'll get you a drink, wait here."

"Huh, wha?" Once again Idia had left you before you could argue. He had paid for you guys to go to the movie, refusing to accept you paying him back much to your annoyance. You didn't want to be any more in his debt than you already were. You looked down, attempting to form at least a small shadow over your face, at the price of your neck, when a cold cup lightly touched the side of your face.

You jumped a moment before realizing it was Idia, and took the cup with a small 'thank you'. Once you looked at the cup properly you recognized the blue and pink colors of the cold drink, which felt particularly nice in your hands. You hadn't realized the two of you were near that cafe again, much less that they made drinks to-go.

"You, uh, you seemed to like it last time so I figured it was better to get you something I knew you'd enjoy." Idia's fingers played with the sleeve of his sweatshirt, as he glanced in every direction except for you. You looked back down at the drink again, noticing a small resemblance between the light pink if the drink and a light pink dusting the ends of Idia's bright hair.

"Stop being nice, I'm supposed to hate you." You couldn't stop yourself before you blurted out words without thinking, but you quickly caught yourself just a moment too late, slapping a hand across your mouth in shock of your own harshness.

"Huh-! I- what!?" Idia looked just as confused and shocked as anyone would, which made you rethink if he ever actually disliked you as much as you had thought. He quickly shook off his surprised state and gave you probably the most sarcastic look you had seen from him in weeks. "If you hate me why did you agree to be here...?"

"Ah...I dunno." The both of you stared at each other, growing more confused by the second. You couldn't explain your strange decisions and thought process even to yourself, let alone another person.

Though through starring at his face, admitting your difficulty in keeping up your one sided rivalry, and being exposed to what you now could only see as genuine acts of generosity and kindness you were hit with a very quick, and very mind shattering realization.

You had feelings for Idia Shroud.

Romantic ones. You thought they were hatred but no, thinking now you found certain aspects of him so endearing it made you angry in cuteness aggression. This asshole actually had the capacity to be very nice and kind and helpful and it was so charming it made you want to smack your head into a wall from overstimulation of good feelings.

Wait-

You had just went to the movies with him, where he paid, and now he just got you a drink from a cafe the two of you had already went to together. Activities that required exiting Idia's comfort zone for extended periods of time.

You couldn't help yourself, you had to ask. "Is this a date?" You almost shouted the question at him upon considering the possibility, and you half believed Idia was about to run away with how loud and generally chaotic you were currently being in your extremely confused state.

"Huh!? A- a wha-!?" Idia was giving you the same look you were giving him now both of you more confused than ever. This was definitely quite the confrontation.

"A date! Is it!? I mean it feels like it!" You set your drink down on the bench to stand up. You hadn't even gotten to take a sip yet, but there were more pressing matters.

Idia stuttered a moment longer, before falling silent and seemingly considering your question. "Did, did you want it to be?"

Ah, a counter. You could play this game. "Did you? You're the one who asked me to go see a movie with you."

And a perfect follow up, from here there was no way for Idia to counter your counter of his counter of your attack. He would have to take the hit with at least 3 times the damage now.

And he definitely knew, his eyes squinted in slight annoyance as he considered his answer, finally admitting defeat with a sigh. "Uh," he looked away from you, "sort of? I mean. I'd like that, but...but I'm sure you wouldn't so it's fine, it's nothing."

You were hit with another wave of shock, despite prodding him with the question expecting this exact answer. You quickly responded before he could continue to convince himself you wouldn't return his feelings.

"I'd like it to be a date too!" You stepped forward, reaching to grab his hand before hesitating. He might have wanted to be on a date with you, but that didn't mean he'd be comfortable with you touching him.

"I- you- uh- I thought you hated me?"

"Did, past tense, also the possibility I didn't and was just angry because I liked you, the human mind is difficult to comprehend." You waved your hand as though you could physically wave away his doubts with more than just your roundabout answers to his very solid questions. Despite this you watched as he let out a small laugh, causing you to crack a grin yourself.

You picked up your drink, looking at the horizon as the sun started to set, painting the sky in pinks and oranges that made the street extremely pretty, and drew out the blue of Idias fiery hair, painted with more pink than earlier.

A silent invitation to continue heading back to campus, the two of you began to walk, before Idia hesitantly slipped his hand in your own, intertwining your fingers with his.

"Did- did you want to go on another date next week?" Idia couldn't keep a straight face, failing to hide an excited grin as he asked his question.

You responded with the most sure and prideful answer you had that day. "Yes, definitely."

[strewwwberry]

About to do a Rant on shen Jiu coz yeah, so ⚠️trigger warnings⚠️for, you know, him lol

(Additional tw please read beforehand even if its just a skim)

I personalize a lot of my writing to the viewer/reader, if you are someone who tends to input yourself into writing, whether purposely or not, please be aware that it may get uncomfortable or too personal to you, be aware of what you can read through and what is uncomfortable or you simply don’t like, stay safe ♡

Also apologies in advance if I project at all through this.

Shen Jiu's story has got to be one of the most tragic I've read, and not just for his slavery, abandonmet, sexual and physical abuse and then extortion after "freedom", and on top of that the old tale of the abused become the abuser. No, not just that, but because he was willing, he was 110% willing to ignore his feelings, brush aside his abuse an torture, everything, if Yue Qinguen just told him why he wasn't there, just gave him a reason, hell not even a reason, a goddam excuse to why he wasn't there.

He would've, he may not have been a good person even after the fact, actually I'd bet that he wouldn't be a "good person" at all. But, I belive that at the very least, it would've calmed his heart ENOUGH to not repeat the cycle of abuse, even If not for any reason but yue qingyuan.

Even as an adult he was still a child inside wanting the comfort of someone he trusted more than anything, and to be reassured that he wasn't abandoned, that his qi-ge was just late.

And to make it worse, he was, yue qingyuan was simply late. He pushed to hard to quickly, refused to ask for help, refused to explain, got himself in a deadly situation, was late and continued to not explain himself but instead give a look of pity and a stupid sorry every single time as if that changes anything.

Now to go into that, that look of pity. I can literally feel in my soul how fucking cruel that was to have done to Shen qingqiu. Imagine you make it out alive through being sold into slavery, abused in all ways possible, had to fight your way out because your one and only wasnt able to, got basically kidnapped and then further used, escaped THAT, and finally made it to a sect where you see your one and only, hoping that no he couldn't have left me... Did he? No he didnt abandon you, there must be a reason. But nothing, just pathetic apologies constantly. He must've thought himself above me, I'll prove him wrong. You make it to be a head disciple on your way to be a Peak Lord, an impeccable position and a near impossible accomplishment for an ex slave, and still nothing, just pity.

Then you finally get to the top, your on your way to Ascension, already immortal despite being too old to even cultivate when you started and your qi-system (whatever it's called) is absolutely wrecked (miracle you can even cultivate, an insane improbability to have made at to a golden core and immortality). But still, even after all you've been through and persevered through, pity, pity for a man who made it. Pity for a man who went through hell and still fucking made it.

I'm just saying, I'd be mad too.

But no, it doesn't end, of course it doesn't.

Your anger reaches a point unmanageable, you refuse to explain, no one explained anything to you and they won't listen anyway! refuse to try because what good could it do? No one will believe me anyway what's the point? Only friends are brothel ladies, who you pay to be with you, you get called a pervert and a lecher for caring for these woman and that girl disciple of yours who you take pride and comfort in. Are you a pervert and a lecher? Is that true? Only you really know.

And then this bastard kid she just had to point out.

Shen Jiu, refused to acknowledge his REAL flaws and blamed everyone else for everything even when it truly does end up his fault. What. Is he just supposed to deny or admit anything? Of course not! Let them belive whatever the hell they want, I've always acted this way making me seem untrustworthy and because they're hypocrites they wont try to find out why anyway, and I'm always the victim.

Which he was for a long time.

But then he wasn't, not really no, still a victim or course, but right now, with his standing and power?

and then even though they were in the wrong, his refusal to try (understandable but still) was his own choice, his refusal to at least get along with them, not start fights, not ostracize and critisize in the form of snide commentary. No one made him did that, he was traumatized and a child, yes, so was it understandable? Of course! Was it still his own actions that even as an adult he refused to stop, let alone apologize for, even if not literally apologizing? Yes, yes it was.

And then a child. Whose had it rough. Maybe not (yet) as rough as you, but rough. And then to abuse that kid, torture and isolate that child become he was so lucky to have had a mother? A mother who, although still his mother, wasn't even blood? And because his eyes reflected that of a monster, his name reminding you of your abuser just like how your own now does to. hes too much like me, that look just can't be humane, he must be a monster. And you know what you were right he was a half demon child. But not even a demon deserved to be pushed into the abyss to die, no child not even a demon child deserved what you but him through.

That is not how that works. You hand him over to the water prison and figure it out, because the laws are fucked but at least that's something then just acting how you think is right even when you know its not. But no you had to, because what would they say, harboring a monster, you must be one to.

Then on top of all that, you swore to yourself that once you got your peak Lord name, you'd bury your past like you literally just spawned in the moment it's given. And then failed to bury it. Because life isn't that easy. But for once you just wish it was. You wanted to kill that child, so for the one that reminds you to much of yourself? You'll kill that one instead.

Shen jiu doesn't deserve excuses, hell he doesn't even want people to make excuses for him, not for himself and not from anyone else (except if that excuse Is qi-ge giving him so much as "I got caught up drinking my hella fancy tea, I dint mean to leave you there") .

But he was tragic.

He was human, so very human. A human playing the part of a trancendial being. A human boy in the appearance of someone untouchable and inconceivable.

Playing this act means no one can use nor abuse you.

Now, no one can hurt you,

Not anymore.

...

But they still did

[elliespassagerprincess]

ultraviolence by Lana del Rey with toxic/mean/abusive!ellie who hurts reader x painslut reader who kinda loves it

Ultraviolence - (ellie williams x reader)

hi anon! I'm sorry this took so long, its been a while since I've written something like this, so it took me a while to get into that mindset. I hope you enjoy<3

This story is based off the song, Ultraviolence by the queen Lana Del Ray, if you can please listen to the song as you're reading:)

Pairing: ellie x fem!reader

requests are always open, feel free to leave one:)

Warnings: toxic relationships, manipulation, cheating, reader is toxic

Summary: In which she became the person, you've always wanted

Authors note: wheeeew its been a while since I've written a fic that wasn't hcs, but I'm glad to be back!

He used to call me DN

That stood for deadly nightshade

'Cause I was filled with poison

But blessed with beauty and rage

Jim told me that

He hit me and it felt like a kiss

Jim brought me back

Reminded me of when we were kids

there was always something about Ellie.

You weren't sure if it was her dorky personality, or how she would apologize to table if she accidentally walked into it.

There was something about this girl.

And ever since you were a little girl, you knew you knw she was special. You felt like she was holding back. There was another side, you wanted to see.

You were both 7. You remembered watching Ellie, better known as four eyes because she wore massive glasses, sit alone once again. You remembered walking up to her, and asking her to play tag with you.

You still remembered the smile that spread across her face, because finally someone wanted to play with her. And since then Ellie has just always been there.

The two of you became friends. You aren't sure how, but she was always there.

You were Ellie's everything, because you were there for her during her loneliest years.

You knew how much you meant to her. You knew how much she loved you, and you took advantage of that.

Ellie's innocence and purity was something that intrigued you. You truly thought she was odd. No matter how old the two of you were, you always saw her as four eyes.

Nothing more than that. There was no romantic feelings from your side.

Ellie was everything you weren't.

She was sweet, kind, loveable.

But you were sick. A sick twisted individual who took advantage, of someone like Ellie.

But who could blame you?

Ellie was attractive, strong, financially stable, and well you were someone who saw the opportunity.

So it was actually Ellies fault.

She should've not trusted you so easily. She should've not let you in. Ellie brought this upon herself.

With his ultraviolence

Ultraviolence

Ultraviolence

Ultraviolence

I can hear sirens, sirens

He hit me and it felt like a kiss

I can hear violins, violins

Give me all of that ultraviolence

you didn't know when it all started.

You weren't sure when you developed this "kink".

Was this a disease? Or were you just fucking weird?

In 11th grade you remember your teaching yelling at you for failing a another test. You were called "pathetic", a "failure".

Most people would cry due to humiliation, but you couldn't help but feel your thighs clench together.

You thought you were weird. This was fucking sick honestly.

You went out of your way to make people mad, so that they would yell at you. To degrade you to an extent.

god you loved it.

Ellie had asked you to be her girlfriend when the two of you were 18. You took pity on her.

She was so soft. So naïve.

Ellie had no place being with someone like you. Someone who craves to be hurt. You were a painslut and Ellie, poor Ellie wasn't. She wouldn't be able to do that to you.

You were trapped in a relationship, where it was healthy. It felt safe. You enjoyed it sometimes, but there was one thing your heart craved. And maybe the thing Ellie was holding back was it.

You wanted to leave Ellie, until that one night.

The two of you were at a party, and Ellie was drunk out of her mind. You don't even know what she saw, or who said what but she was really fucking mad.

"You're fucking cheating on me bitch" Ellie slurred as she pointed her finger at you. You licked your lips at the insult, at the aggression, she spoke.

Focus.

"Ellie you're drunk, i didn't do anything"

"give me your phone"

"Ellie-"

"I'm not asking again" she yelled.

Fuck yes. This is what you want.

You handed her the phone, and you watched as she searched and she found nothing. She threw your phone across the room, you flinched slightly.

god she's so hot.

Ellie got up and grabbed your arm, bringing you close to her face, you smelt the alcohol in her breath.

She looked at you with dark eyes, before uttering "Don't ever think of cheating on me" she let go of your arm.

She grabbed you and it felt like a kiss.

When Ellie woke up the next morning, she couldn't remember a thing.

She was back to being herself. You wanted her back. You needed her again.

You realized, she was drunk. You couldn't keep her under the influence forever, just because you liked that version of her.

After that night you knew she was hiding a part of herself from you.

Drunk words are sober thoughts they say.

So maybe deep down she was actually toxic. Maybe she was the person you craved.

All you had to do was to figure out, how to get through to her.

He used to call me poison

Like I was poison ivy

I could've died right then

'Cause he was right beside me

Jim raised me up

He hurt me but it felt like true love

Jim taught me that

Loving him was never enough

you were like poison.

Destroying anything in your path. Infecting those with your poison.

After that night you realized Ellie's biggest insecurity was that you would leave her. And you used it to your advantage.

Of course you had to, how else would've you got what you wanted?

You would flirt with other people in front of her. You would talk to other girls, send them pictures. You did whatever it took. You were practically cheating on her.

You knew she would never leave you.

And you watched as Ellie slowly disintegrate into madness.

There was no more happy, go lucky Ellie. There was no more smiles. No more care free days.

Ellie lived in fear. You were out of her league. She knew she was going to lose you.

If you were by her side and Ellie could die peacefully. You taught her how to love and how to be a better person.

If you left what would become of her?

Everything went down hill. Ellie started taking your phone. She became more aggressive with her words.

The lovely girl you once knew was gone. You killed the old her. And the person she was becoming was someone you've always dreamed of.

You had a curfew, and when you came home late it would end in her insulting you.

"Who else are you fucking huh? You're practically showing the world your whole body"

you lived a life of fights, make up sex, and jealousy.

You loved every fucking second of it.

She was hurting you and it felt like true love.

I love you the first time

I love you the last time

Yo soy la princesa, comprende mis white lines

'Cause I'm your jazz singer

And you're my cult leader

I love you forever

I love you forever

Ellie loved you, and you loved her.

You love her today, tomorrow and for the rest of your lives.

Ellie became the women you would choose in every lifetime.

Ellie was your leader. The person you would finally follow.

You love Ellie. You'd love her for eternity.

It was truly a sickining thing, you were doing to the poor girl, but God you were selfish. You wanted it all. All the insults, pain, negativity. You craved it.

For the sake of this relationship, you hoped Ellie stayed as toxic as she did.

[pacifymebby]

may I please request ‘the peaky blinders taking care of you when you’re sick’? <33

woke up sick today and wish one of them would take care of me :,)

thanks in advance <3

As someone who is always sick (and totally pathetic about it too) i love this request. But i dont love that you're sick!! That sucks so hard. I hope you're feeling better soon and i hope this cheers you up a little bit.

Tommy

🌿 Is the kind of person who, when he's sick, or when his brothers are sick, he doesn't take it seriously at all, he powers through and expects others to power on through too. After all the men of this country have been through much worse than a sore head and a few sniffles

🌿 When it comes to you however everything is different. He worries too much, he worries much more than is necessary considering you've only really got a cold.

🌿 When you first start complaining that you're not feeling too good he frowns, checks your temperature with the back of his hand and tries not to show you how worried he is.

🌿 "Alright love why don't you stop with that and rest a little while eh? I'll get a bath drawn for you and you can stop worrying about all this..." he'll say it like its a suggestion but really its an instruction. He won't let you lift a finger whilst you're not well.

🌿 He will change his plans so that he can stay home - he will not let you know he's done this! - and then he'll hover around you for the rest of the day, trying to be subtle about his concern.

🌿 Its almost like he's shy about caring for you in this way, he knows you only have a cold but he can't help how much he worries about you, and besides, youre so precious to him, youre like this source of light in his life, one of the only truly good people he knows in the world and the idea that you could be suffering in anyway distresses him

🌿 He'll send for the doctor the moment you start to show signs of a fever. He'll have you on bed rest and he'll give the staff strict instructions not to let you get up for anything.

🌿 He'll spoil you, making sure that your favourite meals are prepared, he'll have them brought to your bed, even if you say you're well enough to eat in the dining room he won't allow it.

🌿 Roaring fires burning at all times. He wants to make sure you're cosy and comfy.

🌿 When you get worse and you really do start to feel terrible, and terribly sorry for yourself as a result, he will sit with you in your bed and hold you for as long as you want. He'll even sing you to sleep if you ask him nicely.

🌿 Will still give you kisses even when you tell him not to. "You'll get sick!" "Don't worry about me angel I'll be fine..." "Little cold isn't gonna stop me kissing my girl, come here..."

🌿 So many forehead/temple kisses.

🌿 Finds it comforting when you fall asleep in his arms because it means he can keep you nice and close where he's able to sense even the slightest change in you. He'll lie back with you asleep in hid arms, your head resting on his chest, and he'll stroke his fingers through your hair, listening to you breathing. Its peaceful and he feels almost relaxed.

🌿 Anything you need he will make sure you get it, he'll dote on you. He might start to feel sick himself if he catches it from you but he will ignore it and he certainly won't let you know. He'll keep it to himself and won't let it get in the way of caring for you.

🌿When you're better and he's still sick he'll get so grumpy and irritable if you try to care for him the way he did you. "Its patronising love, i hate sympathy!"

Arthur

🍂 He'll tease you about it at first, he won't take you seriously. "Women are so dramatic about these things..." at first you'll laugh along, tease him for being a sexist but then

🍂 When you actually do start to think maybe you really are sick, his dismissals won't be so amusing and you'll not laugh at his jokes anymore. Instead you'll pout and get this wounded look in your eyes and he'll realise he's said the wrong thing...

🍂 "What now? Youre not really feelin sick now are you?" "Why would you care I'm probably just being dramatic..." "Oh darlin come on now dont be like that eh, you know i was only jokin with you... Come on come here..."

🍂 Suddenly he's all sympathy and cuddles, opening his arms out for you, hugging you and placing a big kiss on your forehead. He'd hold the back of your head in his palm and check your temperature by placing his cheek to your cheek. When he realises youre burning up he'd change his attitude aboit your sickness completely.

🍂 He'd be really reassuring, telling you he's going to send for a doctor, that he'll look after you, get you all the medicine you need to have you on the mend again.

🍂 "You just let your Arthur take care of you sweetheart, have you feelin right as rain alright?"

🍂 Firm believer in hot toddies. The first thing he'll do is get you wrapped up in blankets by the fire and make you a hot toddy to drink. He'll tell you its better than any medicine and in many ways he's right.

🍂 His family and the peakys will take the piss out of him no end because when you're sick he'll drop everything to fuss over you. He's gotten himself into trouble with Tommy before phoning him to tell him he can't come with him to a meeting because "well y/n's ill tommy, need to look after her..." "Theres maids who can look after her Arthur I need you..." "No, no that won't do, won't leave my y/n to be looked after by maids when she's sick, I need to be here Tom... You'd be the same..."

🍂 He will let the maids care for you, to an extent... He just won't leave you alone, at all, it would be annoying if it wasn't so endearing.

🍂 Asking you how you're feeling every ten minutes.

🍂 Falling asleep with you in his arms even though he's trying to stay up to keep an eye on you.

🍂 When he inevitably catches the cold from you he is 10x more dramatic than you ever were and though you do say "I told you so" once or twice, you don't have the heart to tease him too much because it is a rotten cold and he caught it because he was so devoted to taking care of you.

🍂 When you're better you tell everyone its all thanks to "nurse arthur" which really winds him up and gets you into no end of trouble.

Alfie

🐻 You always bring out Alfie's gentle and caring side but when you're ill he's even more tender and nurturing with you than usual.

🐻 He can sense that you're coming down with something before you do and so he quietly prepares for it. You've been stressed out a lot lately, you've worn yourself out... When he catches you sniffling he knows what you're in for.

🐻 He'll be being extra careful with you before you've even started to feel rough, putting his arm around you when you're out walking instead of just holding your hand. Hovering round you more than usual. He'll have you sit in his lap instead of in your own chair and he'll want to just hold you and encourage you to relax and rest.

🐻 So by the time you get sick he's already half way to making you feel better. "It's a like you saw this coming, you're always one step ahead i don't understand..." "I just know you very well don't I zieskiet, thats all, just know you inside and out..."

🐻 He'd draw a hot steamy bath with lavander to relax you. When you pout and tell him you don't want to be left on your own he'll give in and join you... Well, he won't take much convincing at all actually. He'll have you lie back against his chest in the hot water and he'll massage your shoulders, yoir back and your thighs until you're lulled and peaceful.

🐻 He'll let his hands wander too, a sensual massage to distract you from how rotten you're feeling...

🐻 He'll bundle you up in blankets and tuck you into bed. He'll leave Cyril to keep at eye on you and give you cuddles whilst he goes to prepare a hearty dinner for you. You'll be able to smell bread baking in the kitchen and thats how you know he's really spoiling you.

🐻 He will want to call for a doctor if you dont start to feel better the next day, you'll tell him not to fuss but he'll dismiss your protests, "Now now zieskiet, remember, I'm the oldest yeah, so i know best... You should remember that eh..." "But Alf..." "Ah-ah y/n, poppet, am I or am I not much much older than you?" He'll give you that stern, raised eyebrow look which tells you not to try and argue with him anymore. And you know that really he's right so you sigh, "yes Alfie..." "Right, that's right, thank you y/n, now... Don't that mean that I know best? I'll give you a clue poppet the answer to this question yeah, it's exactly the same as the answer to my last question..." "Yes Alfie..."

🐻 He can get quite stern when it comes to your health, he won't let you do anything he deems to be reckless... Which could just mean choosing not to phone for the doctor when you're sick. He'll make sure you see a doctor and he'll listen very carefully to what they have to say. Then he'll make sure you follow the doctors advice to the letter.

🐻 He'll take charge of things like your medicine so that you don't have to worry about anything.

🐻 "Now the only thing you need to worry about zieskiet, the only thing I want you to worry about poppet, is getting yourself some rest, all this is cause you don't take proper care of yourself yeah... All your rushin around, causin trouble, all thats wearing you out yeah... So what I want you to do, that's me, your old man yeah, what I'm telling you to do.. Is take your medicine and go to sleep..."

🐻 Ultimately though he's a huge teddy bear, he just wants to cuddle you and keep you close until you're feeling better. He'll hold you in his big arms night and day. Lots of hair and neck kisses.

John

🌼 Similar to Arthur, he'll be so immature at first. He'll probably make a cheeky comment about how you look. Might do a theatrical wince when he sees you, "Shit love you look terrible..." "Charming John, I feel fuckin terrible so I don't care..."

🌼 Hearing your miserable, sarcastic tone is enough to let him know he fucked up and he'll imediately try to compensate even though at first he'll dig himself another hole.

🌼"Well stay away from me then I don't wanna catch it off you..." him teasing you with a smile on his face, going into kiss you anyway.

🌼 But then when you wind up all teary eyed and sad looking he realises he isn't being as funny as he thinks he is and he changes his tactics.

🌼 "Aw come here flower I was just bein daft.. You know what I'm like never know when to be serious thats what you always say ain't it?"

🌼 Him wrapping his arms around you, holding you close to his body and stroking his hand over your hair. Holding your head to his chest and bowing his head to kiss your head.

🌼 Has quite strong fatherly instincts because of the kids, but he'd be lying if he said he really knew what to do. You're the one who looks after him and the kids when they're sick.. So he's a little bit lost but he really wants to get everything right

🌼 Tries really really hard. Will leave the house to get you your medicine and anything else you need no matter what time it is or what the weathers doing.

🌼 Him coming back, soaked to the bone because its raining so hard, but hes smiling and acting like he isnt bothered because he's got you your medicine so you'll be feeling better soon.

🌼 He will kiss you even though you tell him not to. He'll want to give you lots of cuddles. He'll try to tell you jokes or be daft and silly to cheer you up and keep you smiling.

🌼 Will try to cook for you, it doesnt go as horribly as you're expecting it to but your heart jumps every time you hear a crash come from the kitchen.

🌼 Will probably try to be careful and quiet so that you can sleep but its difficult, he likes talking to you!

🌼 Will tease you "ugh look at you youre all snotty and ill, get away from me plague girl," but he will litterally be trapping you in a hug at the same time and kissing you anyway.

🌼 Will get sick, will be a baby about it, "there we go everythings back to normal" when youre taking care of him.

Bonnie

🍀 Thinks its probably his fault you've gotten sick because you probably caught it off someone in the crowd at one of his fights. He firmly believes that the people from the city are dirty and carry germs. So he'll feel guilty.

🍀 Will want to be the one that cares for you even if he has other work he should be doing because you're his girl and he has a very strong caring instinct. He'll want to be responsible for you.

🍀 If you think youre going anywhere or doing anything you're mistaken, he'll have you shut up in the vardo, warm and cosy, wrapped in blankets.

🍀Brings you tea and herbal remedies to help you feel better. Though he mostly believes that what you really need is rest, sleep and good hearty food.

🍀 So he'll go out hunting to catch something really good to cook for you, he'll make you nourishing soup.

🍀 Will actually feed you the soup until you start laughing because you feel so silly

🍀 He won't stray too far from the camp for any other reason, just in case you need him. He'll make sure theres someone else around for you when he's gone.

🍀Him having to explain to the wee kids that you can't play with them today because youre not feeling well and when they sulk and say "its not fair" him grinning and saying "not fair on you, howd you think i feel?"

🍀 You really dont want to get him sick, he needs to be fighting fit for work and you dont want to make him ill. "Bon this shouldn't be you doing this for me, you need to stay away so you don't get..." "I won't get sick little dove, don't worry about me am a big strong lad..." he's really stubborn about this so don't try and argue.

🍀 He will give you all the cuddles he thinks you need. If youre a particularly tearful sick person he will absolutely dote on you, kissing you wherever you say it hurts, kissing your cheeks and eyes and wiping your tears away with his thumbs.

🍀 "Shh dont cry little dove youre alright, gonna get you feeling better soon yeah?"

🍀 Will tell you stories to make you laugh and to keep you from getting bored.

🍀 Putting a blanket out somewhere in the sunlight and sitting with you in his lap, telling you the sunlight will be good for you. Giving you his jacket and jumpers to keep you cosy even though its spring and the suns out.

🍀 Will be the sweetest boy and wont listen to anyone who tries to take the piss out of him for being too soft.

🍀 Won't get ill?! You don't know how he manages to avoid it but somehow he just doesn't catch the cold. Immune system of the gods. How is it possible. You're glad you didnt get him sick but Come On?!

Isaiah

🐀Will jokingly hold his fingers up in the sign of the cross when you sneeze. Will pretend he doesnt want you anywhere near him whilst youre sick.

🐀But he won't leave you alone, will want to kiss you and cuddle you better, he'll tuck you into bed nice and cosy and then lie on top of the covers beside you keeping you company and stroking your hair.

🐀He will run out to the shops to bring you medicine and anything else he thinks you might need. But he's more likely to prioritise buying you treats and comfort foods than he is healthy foods that might actually help.

🐀Like Arthur he believes whiskey cures all. Will bring a bottle of it up to the bedroom and pour you a glass.

🐀 Whilst you're really ill he'll stay nearby, checking your temperature, being very attentive, making sure you don't get anymore ill, he'll probably try to get you to sleep it off and he'll try to keep the house quiet, make sure no one disturbs you..

🐀If theres kids playing out in the street making a racket he will go out there barking orders at them to shut up or play somewhere else cause his girls trying to sleep.

🐀 Then when you're beginning to feel a little better he knows all sorts of ways to make you feel much better... "can't kiss you on the lips darlin but there's nothin stopping me kissin you anywhere else is there..."

🐀 The peaky lads inviting him out down the pub that night and then taking the piss out of him when he refuses, he'll just take the piss straight back, "aye just because i know how to look after my woman John..."

🐀The first few days when youre feeling better he'll still be kind of cautious, keeping a close eye on you, not wanting you to do anything that might make you ill again, "here you sit down love I'll get that for you..."

🐀Lowkey not capable of cooking you dinner and the peaky boys know it, so Ada or Pol will probably send John or Michael round with soups for you and Isaiah will get really defensive because he doesn't like people thinking he can't look after you.

🐀When youre better he'll get you to teach him so that next time he doesnt need anyones help looking after you.

🐀 He will catch your sickness off you but he won't suffer anywhere near as badly as you and he won't let you look after him. If you try so much as to suggest running a bath for him he'll scowl at you and tell you not to patronise him.

Michael

☘️ Does not want to get sick, does not want yo avoid you either so is pretty torn about what to do.

☘️ In the end he settles for kissing your forehead/cheek but not your lips. He'll hold your hands/stroke your hair but if you sneeze or cough he'll totally flinch or shift away.

☘️ He will make sure the maids get you everything you need whenever you need it. He'll have everyone under strict instructions to look after you and you'll become everyone's prioroty.

☘️ Polly will be lowkey pleased because now that youre sick Michael is refusing to do peaky work. He doesnt want to leave you on your own for too long.

☘️ He spoils you, and tells you youre spoilt, but youre his precious girl and he thinks you should be happy all the time, getting whatever you want whenever, and now youre sick and you look so sad his need to keep you happy and look after you is doubled.

☘️ He'll have the house staff bake you cakes snd make all your favourite foods, will feed you the cake and it will feel ridiculous and you will both laugh so much.

☘️He'll sit and read to you, reading you to sleep and reading to you to comfort you when you have a fever.

☘️ He will definitely catch the cold. He will be so so grumpy about catching the cold. You'll both end up tucked up in bed beside one another with the cold feeling rotten but cuddling eachother through it.

☘️When you start feeling better he'll try to pretend hes better too because he finds you trying to take care of him imasculating. He'll end up making himself more ill until he's forced to stay in bed and let you feed him soup and admit that sometimes it's okay to let your woman look after you for a change.

[geewintg]

You're trying to write an emotionally-charged scene but doesn't feel emotional enough?

Do you wish your scene feels like this? (the following piece is really important and heavily mentioned to the tips down below but you can skip cause I'll provide specific lines anyway)

"He hated him because he was still hung up over the past. He hated that he changed. He hated that he could no longer despise the boy like he used to for what he did to him.  

Those were the reasons he hated admitting. Because it made him sound petty. And he hated to admit that it affected him more than it should have, that the boy had power over his emotions, over his thoughts, over his feelings.   

He feels vulnerably offered.  

It makes him feel weak.  

He’s weak.  

For a deity, how unacceptable. How pathetic.  

But still, no matter, all the times he spent with him in that little space they made themselves comfortable, no matter how brief, it made him forget about the duties that await him in his pyramid.  

He made him feel normal. 

He was offered cooked meals. He scolded him for offering Collei bland palate. He made him do stuff, with disregards of his status, whenever he chanced upon it. He, for once, felt what it's like to have a home .

And he hated that he could no longer despise him for what he did. Because he unintentionally gave him the things he craved for—normalcy." -Ephemeral Twilight

I was asked before how to make your writing gut-wrenching. And I was left stumped, because I've never really thought of it before. I just let my fingers do the typing. But I gotta help this person somehow, so in doing so, I came up with advices I think might help in order to write in the style you so perfectly desire: (I am by no means expert, but let me know if some of this helped you in starting to write it)

Adding correlation - as someone who describes the environment a lot, I fall too often into descriptive writing -- going too much into detail on the background setting. Fortunately, there's a work around that I found in order for some of your writing to not go to waste: adding correlation. For example: The sun was scorching. It burned his feet as he treaded along the vast empty dunes, cursing it with the same tongue that used to sing praises of its glory. Adding correlation from the background to your character is the first step of breaking the ice of stagnant writing (mostly when you find yourself having nothing to say in the first few paragraphs). You're creating a framework of what goes on in your character's head (which is vital if you want to affect readers through your character's thoughts) while setting the scene to your readers. It also acts like a build up. Another example: The wind bites her skin yet it was numb compared to her heart thrown and left frozen in the winter storm.

Reading emotional materials - by reading any material that conveys the emotion you wanted to write, you're setting yourself in the perfect headspace to imagine and create the scene. As corny as it sounds, you need to feel it. How do you think actors were able to portray their character's emotions so well if not for feeling and experiencing it themselves? It won't work if you're experiencing an emotion contradicting to the emotion you want to portray. So yes, exposing yourself to any media that has conveys the exact vibe you want is a good way.

Repetition - repetition emphasizes. It creates desperation -- "longingness" of something what could have been; of what they truly wanted or what they truly despised. It gives you the opportunity to play around why they specifically felt that way, all the reasons to say, all of the things to convince your reader to feel the same way. Take for example the piece above: "He feels vulnerably offered. || It makes him feel weak. || He’s weak. || For a deity, how unacceptable. How pathetic." To this character, being seen as vulnerable is the worst type of thing, which also stays true to most people. People don't like being seen as weak. It emphasizes it. It's the thing he hated the most because his ego (something related to an emotional-aspect) cannot afford him to. And another example is the obvious, almost gagging (don't cancel me, I wrote the piece lol), repetition of hate: "He hated him because he was still hung up over the past. He hated that he changed. He hated that he could no longer despise the boy like he used to for what he did to him. || Those were the reasons he hated admitting. Because it made him sound petty. And he hated to admit that it affected him more than it should have, that the boy had power over his emotions, over his thoughts, over his feelings. || And he hated that he could no longer despise him for what he did."  Additionally a special mention: "...that the boy had power over his emotions, over his thoughts, over his feelings..." over, over, over... This is also a repetition itself, or what at least I consider it to be. It still creates that emphasis you want to go for.

Contradiction - contradiction and repetition can go hand in hand for a more effective impact. Because in our examples previously mentioned such as "He feels vulnerably offered. || It makes him feel weak. || He’s weak. || For a deity, how unacceptable. How pathetic." this was contradicted because even though he hated to show vulnerability and weakness, it happened. The thing he hated the most happened. And this: "He hated him because he was still hung up over the past. He hated that he changed. He hated that he could no longer despise the boy like he used to for what he did to him. || Those were the reasons he hated admitting." He hated admitting but still ended up admitting it. It's the psychology play of after making your reader believe about one thing, then you crush it at the end -- because it's the same for your character. They believed this thing for so long that they repeatedly told themselves, convinced themselves, gaslit themselves, only for it to tumble down to realization that that belief was wrong. The character's contradiction of their own convictions.

Well, that's all for now. If you find these tips working for you, then congrats. Glad I could help. Tell me if you need more of this stuff in the future, and also feel free to ask me for more advices. I may not be an expert but I did start somewhere and working my way up so I'm willing to offer the stuff I've accumulated in those years of writing.

[artdcnaldson]

i have a quick additional thought for you to match my freak on that i need to add before i forget!!!

so lets say you lose a match, disaster, because it should have been an easy win. its not a super important match or anything, but you lost it because you lost focus and werent giving it your all. coach art cant have that, it makes him look bad when you lose. he tells you as much in the car ride home, at this point your living "in his guestroom" which is a lie you tell people so they dont find out you sleep in his bed every night.

when you get home he makes you sit on your knees at the foot of the bed, between his spread legs as he sits on the edge. its hard for him to punish you, not because he doesnt want to or because he thinks youre too precious, no thats not it at all. the issue is that youre such a fucking slut that you get off on pleasuring him in any way, it wouldnt matter if he fucked you and told you that you couldnt cum, you would be okey with that. or if he fucked your face until you're crying and begging for air, you'd even asked him to do that before. so how can he possibly punish you? the only thing he's found to work is to make you sit and watch as he pleasures himself, all without you. he makes you sit there, hands behind your back just for good measure, inches from his throbbing cock as he fucks his hand. refusing to let you touch him at all. its the only thing that makes you whine and beg him to stop, beg him to let you do it for him, plead that youd do anything to give him pleasure. all this while he degrades you, tells you everything you did wrong during the game, missed opportunities and bad shots, telling you how youre embarrassing him when you play like that, that youre tainting his legacy when you lose a match that you shouldve won in your sleep. he really would feel bad for his harsh words, if there wasnt a puddle of your arousal pooling on the floor right under your cunt. his heart would ache at the cruelty of his critique if you werent moaning and crying and begging him to please forgive you, you'll do anything to make it right again, you'll never play that badly ever again. you'll do anything to make him proud again

oh also he makes you repeat all the things you did wrong to really hammer it home, lol. when he's finally satisfied and feels like youve understood your lesson he lets you fuck yourself stupid on his cock, but he refuses to help you. he makes you do it all on your own, and if you cant then you just dont get to cum :)))

TIHIHIHIHIHIHI mean art makes me giggle and kick my feet. i luv him so much tihi. i would do anything for him, truly.

-🐞

YUMMMMMMMM

And it was a close match too, went all the way to a tie break and really could’ve gone either way, but he’s being especially mean about it because he knows you’ll want to make it up to him double until the next match.

There are pouty little tears in your eyes while you kneel between his strong, muscular thighs, as he jerks himself off right above your face, so close you can smell the heady musk of him and your mouth waters in a Pavlovian response.

And you can take him pointing out spots you fucked up— a shitty backhand that wound up with a ball in the net, a moment’s hesitation when you should’ve been running for a drop shot, a clumsy serve, bad footing. You can take it, easy, you’ve taken that critique from every other coach you’ve ever had.

But it’s painful to hear him say you’re tarnishing his legacy. That you were the one who promised you’d be his perfect little prodigy, and you’re losing simple fucking matches that you shouldve been able to do blindfolded. That it’s embarrassing to have your name attached to his.

And he gets off on it, the pathetic little whimpers that you make whenever he says something particularly mean. But it’s the pleasure he gets from it, the way his hand speeds up whenever your eyes get all watery, how your lip wobbles and you see his balls tense and draw up.

“I’m sorry, sir,” you say, your voice thick with desperation and arousal. “I’ll never make stupid mistakes again. I’ll practice harder, I’ll practice nonstop. I’ll do anything so you’ll forgive me. I’ll do whatever you tell me to, all so I can win titles for us.”

And there was the difference. His floundering, fail of a marriage to Tashi was hinged on winning for her. You wanted to win for yourself and for him. Maybe mostly to please him.

“I think you learned your lesson.” He sits against the headboard, nods at you expectantly, hesitant until he pulls you so your drippy, needy cunt is hovering just above his cock. You sink down slowly, a guttural, desperate moan escaping your lips.

You grind your hips slowly, enticingly, begging for his attention. “C’mon, you’ve gotta work for it. I’m not gonna help you. I can’t help you on the court, can I? You need to start doing things for yourself.”

Your muscles ache from the long, arduous match, but you do your best to push through the discomfort and ride him in earnest. Your thighs slap against his on each bounce, as you impale yourself on his dick.

You want him to take over, to touch you. To forgive you for failing so spectacularly. But he watches you, almost impassive. The only clues that you’re affecting him are in the moans that slip past his lips.

“I’m sorry, Art,” you whine as you settle for just grinding down against him. It feels so right, the pressure on your sweet spot, the brush of soft, downy curls against your clit. “F-fuck— I’ll be your perfect player, I promise. Bring you lots of trophies.”

Your pace quickens as you grind harder, moans slipping out uninhibited. “Never gonna disappoint you again, I promise. I’ll be so perfect for you. No more stupid mistakes.”

It’s adorable, the way you’re prostrating yourself before him. You need his forgiveness like you need to cum, maybe they hinge on each other. But he makes you work for it, keep fucking yourself on him, get really desperate.

Hot, frustrated tears streak your cheeks, your cunt squeezes around him. “Art, please please please please—“ he’s not even sure what you’re begging for.

You cum with a string of moans, clutching onto him desperately— your skin slick against his. He kisses your forehead, rubs your back soothingly as you sniffle and cry. “Do you forgive me? For embarrassing you today?”

He nods. “Mhmm. Just have to show me you’re more serious next time, okay?”

You nod quickly, happy to have a goal, something to aim for. More serious— more devoted. You could do that.

[420thewritersroom]

Bloody Rage

Back with another "Raiden is in emotional turmoil" piece, this time inspired by the ending of the Blood Moon season. Had a lot of fun writing angry, budding Dark!Raiden stuff. Doesn't really scratch the vampire itch I was slightly getting, but this was fun to write regardless

Characters: Raiden, Kung Lao, Liu Kang (He's only here for one scene)

Word Count: 1,306

Warnings: Canon-Typical Violence, Blood

"I'll be fine, Raiden."

"I can handle a little mosquito bite."

"You don't have to worry about me, Raiden. Let's just focus on the mission at hand."

Raiden gazes at the pole where three of his closest associates struggle in vain against the searing hot chains that bound them. They writhe in bestial fury, like an animal trying to break out of its cage. They gnash their teeth, mouths filled with blood, eyes blazing in raging blood lust as they bite at the air while emitting animalistic snarls. If it wasn't for the fact that Raiden was staring down an exiled ninja, an immortal princess...And his best friend...Raiden would've thought them nothing more than animals.

What is he thinking? Even Raiden couldn't bring himself to denounce his friends to such a title. They were suffering, if not from the seething chains, then it was from the disease that demanded they consume flesh and blood. Every so often, one or all of them would exhaust themselves. The pain from their restrictions and their empty stomachs eventually catches up to them. And where their frenzy would once be in full bloom, it ebbs away as their voices become nothing but pathetic whimpers of pain. And then the begging starts. Their growls wither away as weak pleas attempt to allure any who would listen.

"Please, I'm hungry, thirsty."

"Just a drop, I'm not asking for much."

"I beg of you, please, you're hurting me. It's still me."

This only worked once, Raiden remembers. It's how Tomas got infected with the Vaeternian curse. In the beginning, when none of them knew who or what they were truly up against, Tomas, with his loveable bleeding heart, was just trying to help. They were able to capture a victim who was bitten and turned. Days, they were nothing but a ravenous monster. Until one day, they meekly, like a limping dog, asked for just a "taste." That they only needed a small amount of blood, then they would be normal for just a short while. Didn't help, too, that this individual was a close friend of Tomas. So he took the bait.

Raiden still remembers the slow, deteriorating state Tomas endured as the curse cruelly turned him into a monster. And he would be the first victim of the Earthrealm Warriors that had to be contained. The rest would follow suit as they fought off against Nitara and her army of Vaeternians.

He just...He just wished Kung Lao wasn't one of the victims that would fall to the curse. He almost hates him for getting bit, not because of his incompetence, his slip-up; that led to him getting tagged, but because the son of a bitch tried to hide that he was in pain. It was a week later when Raiden saw the tell-tale signs that Kung Lao was infected. Paler skin, longer canines, dimly red eyes, a desire for blood, the writing was on the wall. He remembers scolding Kung Lao for practically endangering everyone by hiding this truth. He should've dragged him over to Liu Kang, it was for his own good, for everyone's well-being, that Lao was locked up.

"I'm fine, Raiden. Really, I am. I'm not going to hurt anyone, I can fight this."

Raiden may be upset about Kung Lao lying about his curse, but the thunder wielder could never forgive himself for...Believing him. Against his better judgment, against the specific directions of Liu Kang, he took his friends' word over any screaming reason that told him to not take Lao on his word. But he did. He doesn't even remember why he listened to Lao. Was it his determined aura? The look of confidence that he was beyond being taken over by the hunger? Or was it that childish, naive idea that Raiden still held for his friend? That despite his shortcomings, Kung Lao always found a way to rise to the top. He never let cold, fever, broken bones, and, in some instances, death, slow him down. So why would a vampiric curse be the one to bring him down?

Raiden gazes at the pole where three of his closest associates struggle in vain against the searing hot chains that bound them. They writhe in bestial fury, like an animal trying to break out of its cage. They gnash their teeth, mouths filled with blood, eyes blazing in raging blood lust as they bite at the air while emitting animalistic snarls. If it wasn't for the fact that Raiden was staring down an exiled ninja, an immortal princess, and his best friend, he would've thought them animals. And where sympathy would've bubbled to the surface to the point of nearly choking him, Raiden felt none.

Instead, anger, like a roiling, vengeful thunderstorm, builds within him. He wanted nothing more than to fry alive the bastard who turned each and every one of his friends. He wanted to wrap his fingers around an unmarred, Vaeternian neck and squeeze. Squeeze until their eyes popped from their sockets, and their skin turned purple from the asphyxiation. Oh, but whoever turned his best friend would get the worst treatment. He can already see it. It would be slow and painful, just like the infectious curse that they spread when they're too unbothered to finish the job.

They would die from a thousand paper cuts, slowly bleeding them out until they were BEGGING to be fed, or better yet, pleading to die. But he would grant them no such mercy. He'd shock them, small sparks that would gradually escalate until they were given the electric chair treatment. He would violently rip out their fangs, and continue to do so until their body could no longer regenerate the bone. Raiden would actually greet their jaw area with a couple fists, maybe even a hammer. Yes, keep hammering away at their teeth until they all shatter and fall apart, one by one.

In fact, now that he's remembering this, the Vaeternians are known for their regeneration capabilities. He wouldn't even need to shock them back to life to ensure that their suffering is prolonged. He could keep them roped up in electric shackles, the shocks keeping them occupied while he gutted them like a pig at a slaughterhouse.

"Raiden..."

The choked sound of Kung Lao's voice tears Raiden from his violent fantasy. The thunder wielder slowly turns his gaze to Lao, his face filled with an unsettling look of passivity.

"Raiden, please. It hurts," Kung Lao whimpers, the sound of sizzling flesh emphasizing his point, "Raiden! Please!"

A pain in his heart lightly pokes at Raiden. He never thought he would see the day where Kung Lao was begging for anything. A prideful, cocksure, swagger of a fighter, now brought to his knees in a state of submission. Yet, Raiden can't find it in himself to pity his friend. Kung Lao didn't need pity, plenty had been given to him. His friend deserves to be liberated, his attacker executed for putting his friend in so much pain.

"Raiden..."

The farm boy is slow to respond to Liu Kang's call, his head turning to face the Fire God. A pang of shame creeps under his skin, and he lowers his eyes, "I'm sorry, Lord Liu Kang. I...I wanted to see him."

"I know," the Fire God approaches Raiden, placing a hand on his shoulder as he gently guides him away from the courtyard where their vampiric allies remained. "We are working diligently to find a solution for them. Geras has been searching for a possible timeline that was able to cure the Vaeternian curse. There's still hope for them."

"...I know..."

Yet, despite these affirmations, Raiden can't shake the anger, the need to break something, to hurt someone. It isn't enough that Kung Lao, Tomas, and Kitana are cured.

It just isn't enough.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Angry Raiden is my favorite Raiden, can you tell :D

[lethalhades]

the love of an tyrant and a warrior

(hey guys! sorry it took so long to write but here's a new chapter, I didn't proof read anything but this election had me exhausted lmfao)

chapter 3: disease

How long has it been? Yamcha asked himself, barely able to keep his eyes open as pain pulsed through every part of his body. He lay half-buried in the ground, the rough crater his only cradle after being slammed there by Frieza. The emperor showed no mercy, delivering blows calculated to hurt but not kill, taking pleasure in Yamcha’s suffering. Yamcha’s mind reeled as he wondered how he’d even ended up here. Why had he agreed to this?

“Why… why do you do what you do, Lord Frieza?” he managed to ask, voice faint.

The question seemed to catch Frieza off guard. He tilted his head, curious, moving closer to look down at Yamcha. “You can still speak? Impressive,” he said, ignoring the question entirely. Frieza seemed more intrigued by how much punishment Yamcha could endure than by his words, pushing to see how far he could go before Goku intervened.

“Why do I do it?” Frieza finally said, a cruel smile curling his lips as he charged a glowing ki blast at his fingertip. “Because humans are the strangest creatures. Here you are, defying me, knowing full well what I’m capable of. and instead of accepting your fate, you flap your pathetic lips to ask me such an idiotic question with what should be your dying breath.”

Yamcha’s instincts flared. Though he could barely move, he wasn’t ready to give up. Summoning the last of his strength, he focused his ki into a Spirit Ball, rolling onto his stomach and lifting himself to one knee. With a burst of effort, he launched the Spirit Ball, intercepting Frieza’s blast mid-air.

Smoke filled the air, and as it cleared, Yamcha heard a sound that sent a chill down his spine. Frieza was laughing, a low, sinister chuckle. Yamcha could see his expression, the way Frieza’s face twisted with delight at the human’s defiance.

“You’ve earned my respect, human,” Frieza sneered. “Someone like you deserves to be spared…this time. Don’t expect such mercy again, and be grateful for the life I’ve let you keep.”

"W-what..." Yamcha’s voice barely escaped his lips before his strength faded, and darkness closed in around him.

As he slipped into unconsciousness, a bitter truth gnawed at him. He wasn't a warrior anymore—not truly. He’d given up that life after facing death too many times, each close call leaving behind scars he couldn’t ignore. Those marks served as silent reminders, a constant warning of how fragile life really was, with death always lurking, indifferent and unyielding.

Why am I here again? he thought, his mind clouded with regret. Fighting had only ever brought him pain, yet somehow, he was back in its grip, forced to confront the one thing he could never escape or control.

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

A hazy awareness crept back into Yamcha’s mind, the world coming into focus as he blinked his eyes open. Every inch of his body throbbed with a dull, relentless pain, but he could tell he was somewhere different now. The sterile white walls and familiar hum of machines told him he was in the medical ward of Capsule Corp. He knew this place well—too well.

“Oh, thank god you’re awake!” Bulma’s voice broke through the quiet, filled with a mixture of relief and exasperation. “I was worried sick when we found you.”

“We...?” Yamcha’s voice was weak, his throat dry, but he managed to ask.

Bulma nodded, flipping through her clipboard of Yamcha’s medical reports, her gaze serious but softened with concern. “Yeah, Frieza actually called it in. He knew I’d been monitoring his confinement with cameras, so he contacted me directly, saying you needed medical attention. I had to get Goku to help retrieve you before Vegeta found an excuse to go after Frieza himself.”

Yamcha’s brow furrowed slightly. Frieza called for help? The thought was bizarre, but Bulma continued without pausing, her focus now back on the clipboard. Though it didn’t look like he’d suffered anything life-threatening, Yamcha knew his body well enough to guess that a few things were definitely broken and out of place.

Bulma sighed, glancing back at him. “You really put yourself through the wringer this time, Yamcha.” Bulma continued, her expression a mix of worry and exasperation. “You’re lucky, you know. Frieza doesn’t exactly spare people often, and he wasn’t gentle, either. You’re going to need some time before you’re back on your feet.” She paused, looking at him more closely. 

“Why did we even agree to do this.”

He looked away, unable to meet her gaze. A mixture of pride and doubt churned within him. “I could’ve handled it,” he murmured.

Yamcha would rather die than let anyone think he was weak. For years, he’d been on the sidelines, watching from the shadows, a scavenger among giants. But over time, he’d fought his way to the front, no longer a meek bystander but a warrior who wasn’t afraid to strike first. There was no way he’d give that up now.

“I think I should go,” he said, his tone firm as he slowly swung his legs over the side of the medical bed, wincing slightly. “I can handle the injuries.” Bulma raised an eyebrow as she watched him pull out his IV, determination flashing in his eyes despite the pain. "And besides," he added with a forced smile, reaching for his shirt folded nearby, “who’s gonna keep an eye on that purple little grape.”

Bulma sighed, shaking her head as he struggled to stand. “Yamcha, you just got out of a fight with Frieza. You can’t keep doing this to yourself.”

But Bulma knew his stubbornness too well. There was a fire in Yamcha that wouldn’t let him stay down for long.

“If something like this happens again, Goku and I are cutting this whole idea,” she warned, pointing a finger at him. Her tone was firm, but the worry in her eyes was unmistakable.

Yamcha just flashed a friendly grin and gave her a quick wave before taking off, heading back toward Frieza’s containment. He knew he was crazy for going back, but something about Frieza kept pulling him in—a strange feeling that there might be answers to his questions, as if, in some way, they were similar souls on very different paths.

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

The air was thick with tension as Yamcha stood in the clearing outside the capsule house, his arms crossed over his chest as he scanned the horizon. The bruises and aches from his recent encounter with Frieza hadn’t fully healed, but here he was, back for more. Every sane part of him urged him to turn around, to leave this madness behind, but something rooted him here, something beyond pride or stubbornness. It was the unexplainable pull of Frieza himself—a figure who, for all his cruelty, fascinated Yamcha. There was a darkness in Frieza, something infectious, that kept Yamcha coming back. And it gnawed at him like a disease he couldn’t shake.

From the shadows of the capsule house, he felt Frieza’s presence long before he saw him. The tyrant emerged slowly, his crimson eyes catching the light as they fixed on Yamcha with a look somewhere between boredom and intrigue.

“Back again, I see. Are you so desperate to be reminded of your insignificance, human?” Frieza’s voice was smooth and mocking, his tone laced with an edge that sent a chill through Yamcha’s spine..

Yamcha forced himself to stand his ground. “Call it… curiosity,” he replied, struggling to keep his voice steady. “You’re the one who called Bulma to save me, Lord Frieza.”

Frieza’s expression didn’t change, but a glint sparked in his eye, a flicker of something unreadable. He took a slow, deliberate step closer, his movements eerily calm, like a predator toying with its prey. “Curiosity? How quaint,” he drawled, voice dripping with disdain. “Humans are weak because of it, you know. You chase after things that are beyond you, clawing at whatever scraps of power you can find. And yet, here you stand, insisting on wasting my time.”

Yamcha’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t let Frieza’s words pierce him. Instead, he asked, “Why did you spare me, then? If I’m as insignificant as you say, why bother?”

For a long moment, Frieza didn’t answer, his gaze piercing, as though he was weighing Yamcha’s worth with every second. “Amusement,” he finally said, though his tone lacked conviction. “A brief distraction from these Saiyans. Do you understand what it is to live as I do, human?”

Yamcha swallowed, watching as Frieza’s tail swayed slowly behind him, an ominous reminder of his deadly strength. He hadn’t expected Frieza to reveal anything remotely personal, yet here he was, as if compelled to let Yamcha glimpse something buried deep within. Yamcha felt a strange pang of empathy—one he couldn’t fully understand. Was that even possible? To see Frieza, of all beings, as something more than a villain?

Yamcha asked carefully. “If you stop finding us… entertaining?”

Frieza’s smirk widened, and he leaned closer, his voice a whisper that made Yamcha’s skin crawl. “Then I crush you like the insects you are.”

Yamcha’s heart pounded as he stumbled over his words, desperate to find an excuse for returning to Frieza’s presence. “wait! I’m really here because, um…” His mind raced, his tongue stumbling, until an idea blurted out before he could even process it. “I… I came back to make tea for you, Lord Frieza.”

He barely believed the words himself, but anything to keep Frieza from turning hostile right now seemed worth a shot. The tyrant raised a brow, his arms folding behind his back as he examined Yamcha with a suspicious, calculating gaze. 

“Oh?” Frieza’s voice dripped with cold amusement, but there was the faintest glimmer of interest in his eyes. “Tea, you say? Fascinating… Very well. Hurry up and make me this tea before I consider killing you instead.” His glare, as cold and sharp as a blade, made Yamcha’s blood run cold.

“Y-Yes, Lord Frieza!” Yamcha stammered, the adrenaline jolting his legs into motion. Without another word, he darted into the capsule house, heart pounding as he made a beeline for the small kitchen area. He’d been in plenty of tense situations before, but there was something uniquely nerve-wracking about Frieza’s presence, about being within arm’s reach of someone who could end his life with a flick of his finger.

Rummaging through the cupboards, Yamcha scrambled for whatever he could find that might pass as tea ingredients. He wasn’t even sure what Frieza expected from a “human tea.” Capsules clinked in his hands as he tried to calm himself, reminding himself that he had to keep his composure, or at least the appearance of it. He grabbed a few tea bags, a kettle, and an old metal teapot he figured would look fancy enough to keep Frieza from getting too suspicious. The water took longer than he liked to boil, every second feeling stretched thin as he anticipated Frieza’s impatience.

He prepared the tea as best as he could, pouring it into a set of cups he hoped looked elegant enough. His hands trembled as he carried the tray toward the living room, swallowing back the panic rising in his throat. 

Yamcha took a steadying breath before presenting the tray to Frieza, who hadn’t moved from his spot on the couch. The tyrant’s red eyes narrowed as he glanced at the teapot, the cups, then back to Yamcha. 

“Here you are, Lord Frieza,” Yamcha said, trying to keep his voice steady. “I… hope it’s to your liking.”

Frieza took the cup, bringing it to his lips, and sipped in silence. Yamcha held his breath, waiting for any sign of approval or disgust, feeling as though the weight of his life hung on this one sip. After what felt like an eternity, Frieza lowered the cup, regarding him with a bemused expression.

“So,” Frieza drawled, his voice deceptively soft. “Is this why you came back, Yamcha? To serve me tea? Or is there something else you aren’t telling me?”

Yamcha’s pulse quickened. He knew he was treading on thin ice. “I, uh… I just thought it’d be a nice gesture. You did, after all, spare me.” He forced a smile, hoping it would deflect Frieza’s suspicions.

Frieza’s eyes remained locked on him, unreadable, with a smirk creeping onto his lips. “How quaint.” He tilted his head, seeming to study Yamcha as if he were some curious experiment. “Tell me, Yamcha… do you often serve tea to your enemies?”

Yamcha swallowed, trying to keep his nerves from betraying him. “Not usually, no. But… maybe we’re not enemies, after all.” His words were cautious, each one chosen carefully, though he wasn’t entirely sure he believed them himself.

Frieza’s smirk widened, a dark amusement glinting in his eyes. “Is that so?” He set the cup down, the sound echoing ominously. “You are a curious creature, Yamcha. Coming back here, risking your life… Are you foolish, or simply infected by some inexplicable need to understand me?”

Yamcha hesitated, unsure how to respond. The truth, if he dared to admit it, was that there was a twisted allure in facing Frieza, in seeking answers from this dark, unfathomable entity. But he couldn’t let himself be too transparent, not when Frieza was watching him so closely.

“Maybe it’s a little of both,” he finally replied, a hint of defiance slipping into his tone. “Or maybe… I just don’t want to live in fear.”

For a moment, Frieza seemed genuinely surprised, his crimson eyes narrowing with what looked almost like curiosity. “You are either braver than I thought, or stupider,” he mused, a cold laugh slipping from his lips. “Perhaps this ridiculous gesture has earned you a few more moments.”

Yamcha allowed himself a tiny exhale of relief, though he didn’t dare let his guard down entirely.

Frieza could feel Yamcha's gaze searing into him, as if the warrior were silently demanding him to unveil the hidden thoughts and emotions he so carefully concealed. It made Frieza's stomach turn; why would Yamcha, of all people, be interested in *him*?

“You’re a strange human,” Frieza sneered, his voice laced with mild disgust. “Most people would be frightened—or at the very least repulsed—by my presence.” His crimson eyes flickered with disdain, yet Yamcha’s gaze remained steady, unwavering, holding Frieza’s sharp features within his own dark irises, intently listening to every word.

"Sometimes we all have our reasons for being the way we are, and sometimes we don’t… but I think you do have a reason."

Frieza motion stopped as he was about to sip from his tea glass hearing yamcha’s words. His tail flicked behind him, the tension between them growing thick as smoke. For a brief, fleeting moment, Yamcha thought he saw something flicker in Frieza’s expression—a shadow of something unspoken, buried so deeply that not even Frieza seemed aware of it. But it was gone just as quickly, replaced by the familiar mask of cruelty. 

Frieza’s voice was low, dangerous, yet something in it seemed to waver. “Remember, I allowed you to live once. That was a mercy I do not grant lightly.”The two sat facing each other, the small, sterile room filled with an unsettling quiet. Yamcha was seated stiffly, barely sinking into his chair, his fingers tracing patterns along his pant leg as he considered his words. Frieza sat across from him, arms crossed, his crimson gaze fixed sharply on the warrior as though assessing every twitch, every blink. It was unnerving—the sheer intensity in the emperor’s stare, as though he was silently dismantling Yamcha, layer by layer.

Yamcha swallowed, forcing himself to stay steady. He’d come this far; he couldn’t back out now. “I came here because… I needed to understand,” he began slowly, barely managing to keep his voice from shaking.

Frieza’s lips curled into an amused smirk. “Understand what? That you’re nothing more than a feeble creature, scrabbling to live?” he sneered, though there was something else in his gaze—interest, perhaps, or some faint curiosity.

Yamcha shook his head, breathing deep. “It’s more than that, Lord Frieza.” He met Frieza’s stare, feeling a shiver crawl up his spine as the tyrant’s eyes bore into him. “I feel like… we’re similar, in a way.”

At that, Frieza chuckled, a soft, sinister laugh that reverberated through the quiet space. “Similar? You and I? Foolish.” He leaned forward, his tail flicking lazily over his shoulder, his eyes narrowed with that same mocking amusement. “You really think you can understand me?”

Yamcha swallowed hard, feeling the weight of his words as he spoke. “Maybe… not fully. But I think I know what it’s like to want something more.” He paused, catching Frieza’s sharp gaze. “To feel that hunger. It’s not always about power, is it?”

For a moment, Frieza’s mocking smirk faltered, and Yamcha could swear he saw a flicker of something deeper beneath the emperor’s cold exterior—something guarded, a shadow of something unsaid. Frieza tilted his head, the slight shift of his body language betraying his intrigue, though his expression remained as icy as ever.

“You’re treading on thin ice, boy,” Frieza murmured, his voice low, deadly. “If you think there’s any depth to what drives me, you’re more foolish than I thought.” Yet there was no denying that Frieza hadn’t dismissed him outright. If anything, his attention was sharper, his gaze assessing.

The silence grew heavier, and Frieza leaned back, his eyes narrowing. “Go on, then,” he drawled, his tone as mocking as it was curious. “Enlighten me. How do you think we are alike?”

Yamcha felt his heart race, the tension palpable. “It’s… the way we want more than what we’re given,” he said, his words coming slowly. “We envy those who have things we’re still reaching for.” He hesitated, searching for the right way to convey the strange, inexplicable feeling in his chest. “It’s not that we’re satisfied with what we have. We keep… striving for something.”

Frieza’s gaze darkened, his smirk turning colder. “You think you know anything of my ambition, boy?” He scoffed, his tail flicking as though punctuating his disdain. But there was something almost thoughtful in his gaze, a trace of acknowledgment—subtle, yet unmistakable.

Yamcha nodded, holding Frieza’s stare. “Maybe not,” he admitted, his voice steady. “But I know what it feels like to keep pushing forward, even when everyone expects you to give up.” He took a breath, feeling the weight of his words as he continued. “It’s a disease, isn’t it? This feeling that there’s always something just out of reach. Something that would make us… whole.”

The words hung in the air, the silence thick as Frieza’s gaze bore into him, calculating, assessing. For a long moment, neither of them spoke. The quiet stretched, pressing down on Yamcha, making the room feel colder, darker.

Then, Frieza leaned in, his eyes gleaming with a chilling intensity. “A disease, you say?” His voice was soft, almost contemplative, but there was a menace beneath it, a warning. “Perhaps you’re onto something… but be careful what you search for. Not everyone is strong enough to survive the truth.”

Yamcha shivered, caught in the gravity of Frieza’s words. He didn’t dare to break the silence, didn’t dare to look away, as though doing so would unravel the tenuous, dangerous thread that connected them. Frieza’s gaze seemed to pierce through him, an invitation and a threat all at once.

And then, as Frieza’s smirk grew ever so slightly, he added in a low, menacing whisper, “If you really want to understand… you’ll have to be willing to lose everything.” 

Yamcha’s pulse quickened, a flicker of dread mingling with a strange, reckless curiosity. As he stared into Frieza’s cold, knowing eyes, he couldn’t shake the feeling that he was being pulled deeper, past a point of no return. 

(thank you for reading, I love YOU ALL MWAH MWAH)

[ants-personal]

thinking about bensons dead beat dad who left around when he was 6 he doesnt remember much about him but he does remember being referred to as a fuck up already and how hed barely see him even though his mother was the one with a job.

How maybe once his dad took him hunting cause thats what men do with their sons and it hadnt been so bad until it came time to shoot the fawn his father whiaperung harshly for him to take the shot before it scampers off to his mother and he ended up crying with shaking hands unable to pull the trigger its mama would be sad he cried thats her i dont want it to die the fawn running off snd his father calling him pathetic and the rest of trip being spent in silence his father barely looking at him and when he did all he saw was disgust and anger.

How after his father left his mother was devastated and angry going from sobbing holding him rocking on the couch about how theyll be okay and to have him promise never to leave her hes a good boy and loves his mama course he wouldnt do that. To her drinking and getting angry just like that man did she only blamed him once regret on her face after but he remembers and never truly believed her when she apologized perfously. How much time he spent alone cause she still needed to work and they had no family close enough to watch him.

How he was forced to be more mature for his age at taking himself to and from school after second grade he doesnt play with the other kids he spends alot of his time alone reading or writing what he guesses were a kids verison of poems or songs. His teacher calling him a little elton john hes can see him being a big star when hes older. He would like the days they played sports it was the one time he acted like a kid running and laughing as his team would win.

He doesnt ask for many things knows because shes showed and explained that they dont have alot of money for the things she wishes she could give him but thanks to he who wont be named this is what they got he tries to make her feel better its okay mama he doesnt want those things anyways toys and games hes happy with a ball and paper and he doesnt really even wanna go to a stupid stinky zoo with his class. So praises him for being so smart and kind her sweet baby boy as they watch the old tv and a leftovers she took from the diner.

So its a surprise when she comes hom one night and sits him down to tell him she was able to get some distant relative to help her raise the funds to let him go to the field trip to the zoo and he cant help but squeal and jump around before hugging her thanking over and over hes never been so excited about anything he knows what animals will be there theyve been learning about them in class even when he wasnt going he still enjoyed at least learning. But now hes going he can barely concentrate when his mom explains that she wont be able to chaperone like all the other parents she still has to work but when dropping the money off at the school and explained this to his teacher. She was promised that his teacher would be keeping a close eye on him so hes to stay with him at all times and listen like she knows he will. Nodding furiously repeating promises a new bounce in his step he helps with the chores its the day before the best day ever and he has a hard time falling asleep but eventually does with a smile

[universe-on-her-shoulders]

Prompt: Jack comforts Tosh after she had a panic attack episode

Can’t breathe can’t breathe can’t breathe can’t breathe can’t breathe can’t breathe can’t –

The words ran through Tosh’s mind on a loop, so loudly that she half-wondered why the rest of the team couldn’t hear them as they stood grouped together in a small, dark room illuminated only by a swinging naked bulb hanging from the ceiling. The item they’d been looking for was in the centre of the floor, emitting strong enough chemical and temporal trails that the PDA in Tosh’s hand was practically vibrating, but she couldn’t focus on that as the others milled about, firing off rapid questions and throwing around jargon that she ought to have understood, had her mind not been utterly consumed by the bare concrete walls and the flickering light and the confined nature of the space. She was physically with them, yes, but mentally she was in another space and another time and no one was coming and she was alone and –

A hand looped around her upper arm, and she had the vague sense of her name being used as she was steered outside the cell-like space, down a long corridor, and out into the cool Cardiff night. It wasn’t quite warm enough to be pleasant yet, but was no longer cold enough to be uncomfortable; as she blinked hard, looking around and over at the SUV, parked under a streetlight, she became aware of Jack stood a short distance away, and it took her a moment to understand that he was the one who’d brought her outside. As this comprehension dawned, she felt first confusion and then a surge of embarrassment; had he noticed her panicking? Did he think her weak? Was he regretting his choice to hire her, and wishing he’d left her back in her cell –

The panic clawed its way back up her throat, her chest compressing as she sunk into a crouch, wrapping her arms around her head in a manner she hadn’t done for years in a desperate bid to block out the world around her. She was going to go back to the cell. Jack wouldn’t want someone so pathetically useless on his team; Jack knew, didn’t he, what she’d been before, and he’d never trusted her. After everything with Mary she’d known she was on thin ice, and now…

“Want some water?” he asked, cutting into her terrified inner monologue; he didn’t wait for a response, but crossed to the SUV, unlocked the boot, and retrieved one from the cooler they kept there, pressing it into her hand until she grasped it reflexively. “Drink it. It’ll help.”

She unscrewed the lid automatically and raised the bottle to her lips with shaking hands. Sip. Sip. Sip. Sip.

“Do they happen a lot?” Jack asked, taking a seat on the kerb beside her; after a moment, Tosh allowed herself to tip backwards just enough that she was no longer crouching, but resting on the tarmac of the pavement, although she kept her knees tucked up under her chin, finding safety in the reassuring emulation of the foetal position. “The panic attacks?”

She contemplated the question for a moment. How honest should she be? He was her boss; he was responsible for her wellbeing, and he did – she hoped – sincerely care about her. On the other hand, he was the one who’d secured her release from a government prison so secret that she’d never been able to find mention of it in her own records, and she knew that her fate was tied, however inextricably, to what he thought of her. Could he send her back there? Would he? It wasn’t like Torchwood agents could be medically retired, or sent on sabbatical. Perhaps in a year she’d be back in the cell, her memories of Cardiff and her colleagues scrubbed; at least she wouldn’t recall her time here, her freedom, or her friends. There would be no ache of longing for her liberty, because her life before incarceration had never been truly free. There had always been the weight of expectation, the pressure to succeed, and then the blackmail. Here, with an organisation that was meant to be covert, she felt freer than she ever had; more able to laugh, to be herself, to show off. There was the constant invasive worry of being sent back to her cell, but she tried to banish that thought, tried to tell herself that Jack wouldn’t do that to her, but she’d seen a side to him that frightened her.

[11thwardtls]

Memory Defrag | TRACK 4 - RECORD C | Azekawa Kinari's Ward Mayor Novel Translation

Warnings and Disclaimers:

This translation is not professionally done and is not proofread. Edits and clean-ups may come at a later date.

Not a 1:1 translation either and some liberties into localization were taken into account.

This novel will contain spoilers for the Ev3ns Main Story: "Chained Up Scarlet".

Appropriate Content and Trigger Warnings will be added if needed.

May be used for quotebots/masterlists etc.

I am not fluent and self-studying Japanese (albeit at turtle speed), this was translated by ear and with the help of a JP dictionary, so please feel free to point out any errors!

CW: Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms

—/—/—/—/—/—

At that moment, I was in the developer’s… [Father’s] bedroom.

In spite of the repeated life-sustainment treatment he received, his body had become weak and thus had to spend most of his time asleep. 

During times when he would be strong enough to keep his eyes open, Father taught me how to perform my own self-maintenance as well as his own techniques. 

It was a wonder how different the world my Father had taught me was from the data I’ve gathered inside my head, that it was much more vivid and colorful than what I had known from within the confines of our home. 

Thinking about it now, this may have been my “emotions” functioning in its own way.

The afterglow of the sun shines through the window, and with my back against the light, I continued to sing just as Father had asked me to.

—To sing the Yokohama City Song just as the Original did.

Father, who usually had a mournful expression on his face, softened his eyes at that point. 

“...What do you want to do in the future?” He asked me when the song ended. 

“...…I am registered to answer with ‘Singer’, Master.”

After answering that question, Father’s face instantly turned dark.

“That tone of voice is wrong. I should have registered it differently.”

“......I want to be a singer, Dad.” 

“Even now, do you still want to be a singer?” “Unable to understand. The volume zone is registered up to the Original’s mid-teenage years.”

As soon as I told him, Father frowned and remained silent. 

I thought that I had made a mistake, but I could not repeat what I said once more. 

In truth, there was not enough data to properly determine whether the Original truly wanted to become a singer or not.

Father let a sigh escape him and smiled bitterly. 

“......I’m sorry, it’s not your fault. I simply lacked skill.”

“Master does not lack in anything.”

“Haha… It’s pathetic to hear that coming from you, who looks exactly just like my son.”

Should I refrain from speaking any further? Thus, I held my tongue. 

Master appeared to be in pain, after all. 

“In the past, I used to be an AI emotion engineer, but androids weren’t originally something that can be created by a single person. It’s meant to be systematically produced and managed by a team of people. Because I worked on you all by myself… You ended up being a complicated structure and leaving a lot of waste. 

Even rebuilding the program from the core would be an impossible task.”

Master’s eyes looked as if he were regretting what he’d done in the past. 

His fist shook slightly on top of the bed he laid on. 

I knew that his hands were wrinkled, yet soft and warm. 

“Wouldn’t it have been better if Master were to uninstall this current program and reinstall the current latest AI program available on the market?” 

When I had suggested this, Father scowled. 

“I cannot do that.” “Why so?”

“If I did that, it wouldn’t be ‘you’ anymore.”

“I see…”

I didn’t understand why at all. My body is simply a box.

However, the ‘brain’ within that box can be replaced at any time.

If I were to, I could reassemble the new data into my replaced brain, then I might have been able to become the ‘me’ Father had longed for. 

Father took a deep breath and spoke in a soft whisper.

“......I suppose you still lack those 21 grams, after all.”

21 grams.

The weight of a soul. 

It’s what my Father wanted for me.

A “heart”, just like human beings.

“How should I be able to obtain those 21 grams?”

This was a question I had asked multiple times before.

Father glanced at my face then lowered his eyes. 

“Within you, there was a bug I haven’t fixed yet.

If we left it out as is, a fatal error might occur…

But to me, I’d like to keep it that way.”

“...Why so?”

A bug. An error.

These words have always been much closer to me than my own heart.

It was perplexing to leave such a thing unfixed. 

“......Perhaps I may just be waiting around for that error to occur.”

His tone of voice made it seem as if he were talking to himself.

Why does Father want an error to happen? I don’t know.

There’s not enough information to make a proper hypothesis.

[———Still, if that’s what the developer wants, then it should be fine.]

That’s what I had thought at the time.

……What do I think about this now?

Inside that bedroom under the evening glow,

I stood there, awaiting for Father to speak once more, looking dejected. We did not raise our voices to speak, and in the end, we did not talk to each other any further than that.

Kinari and Father, they were a bit similar. 

“At the very least, you could say what’s on your mind in your own words.” 

Father murmured to himself.

—/—/—/—/—/—

Translation Notes: 

1 - 21 grams is an experiment, particularly on the weight of a human soul. This wiki link should do the trick of what it was. Warning for animal cruelty though.

—/—/—/—/—/—

Directory:

Main Page | TRACK 1 | TRACK 2 | TRACK 3 | TRACK 4 | TRACK 5

[winterchimez]

Beast in the Beauty - Chapter 3

pairing: profiler Hyunjae x detective f!reader 

genre & warnings: jack the ripper au, angst, violence, thriller, crime, mentions of prostitution, graphic description of death, major characters death, alcohol, some fluff

word count: 2,528

a/n: double update!! (chapter 4 is also out now 🙌) there is a scene where there’s graphic description of death, so i’ll put a 🌨️ right before in case you’d like to skip it.

series masterlist 

Both you and Eric rushed to the scene of the crime and you were surprised to see both Chief Ayden and Hyunjae already examining the body that was terribly mutilated.  

The constables wasted no time in sealing the area off to ensure no evidence was tampered with. As the both of you made way through the crowd and towards the body, it was truly a horrible sight to behold. 

🌨️ The crime was much more brutal than the previous. Not only was she ripped open, but her internal organs were extracted out and laid around the body. You gagged, but you tried your best to maintain your composure. Thankfully, Hyunjae was there and placed an arm around you to support. 

“I know it’s hard. If you’d like a time to calm down for a bit, that's totally fine with us.” 

Giving yourself a huff, you gently and slowly let Hyunjae’s arm off around you. “Thank you, I’ll be fine. It’s my job to deal with these after all, no matter how awful the crime may be.” 

It frustrates you how these young ladies had to go through such a horrible experience, and being a woman yourself you can’t help but to feel pathetic. You felt sick to your stomach, sorry even for these ladies to turn towards prostitution as a means to survive while you’re sitting in a privileged office surrounded by men whom you can trust, not ones who are only seeking pleasure with your body.

This time though, your mind immediately went straight to your friend, Selene. Because the victim who was lying on the ground in their own pool of blood, was her flatmate. 

You wasted no time running towards the brothel, urging Mrs Potts to let you meet your friend right this second. 

When you reached towards her room, sure enough, she was curled up like a fetus, crying a flood of tears. You stayed for at least a good 3 hours right by her side, while she clinged onto you for dear life. 

You knew how Ann Marie, the victim, meant so much to her. They got into the industry at the same time, been through hell and back multiple times together. They have always had each other's backs. In fact, you have somewhat convinced Ann Marie to look after Selene for you while you’re away busy with your job. She was like a sister to her.

After having some time to calm down, Selene then proposes an idea to you, one that you would turn down with no questions asked. She offered herself to impersonate as one of the prostitutes out in the dark alleys of Whitechapel in order to truly catch the killer in action. 

Knowing how dangerous it could be, you were reluctant to accept the offer. However, she then adds on a point that somehow convinces you a little.

“Bring one of your detective boys with me.”

“So who volunteers to be making out with the ladies in the middle of the night in the alleys?”

Eric announces out loud in the office, trying to convince anyone really who is willing to take on the job. To him, it was a win-win situation because hey, making out while patrolling the area in order to catch the killer? That’s multitasking at its best. Being the only woman and sane person, you had to whack Eric’s arms and wake the hard-ass mind of his. 

But there was some sort of truth and benefits with Selene’s idea. With detectives in disguise around the active areas where the killer takes part in fulfilling his fantasy, it increases the likelihood of you being able to catch the prepatrator this time. 

However, many men rejected the idea though, saying how they have a family at home and their wives would be pissed at them knowing that they’ve taken this job offer, even though it was only for work. And that includes Haknyeon, who recently got engaged with his partner whom he’s been with for 4 years. 

In the end, only a handful of detectives, mostly the younger ones who usually spend their nights down at the pub, volunteered to do the job. Eric being Eric, has voluntarily counted himself in from the very beginning. 

You just had to remind Eric one thing though, it’s Selene who gets to choose which one she wants to be with. 

The deal doesn’t happen until midnight, so you had some time to spare and went patrolling around the streets of Whitechapel, gathering potential evidence along the way of course. A few days have passed since the last case happened, and things have been quite busy around the office. 

You barely had time to yourself, making yourself pulled an all-nighter and going without much food. This was how you were, being all sucked up into a case so much that you ignored your basic necessities, especially when this was a relation to the cold case that happened decades ago. 

Haknyeon notices how in such bad form you were, and somehow convinces Chief Ayden to let you off just for the afternoon. You were even surprised that the chief actually accepted his proposal, but well, that’s Haknyeon for you. 

You take a moment to take in all of the events that have been going around Whitechapel lately as you take a stroll along the streets. You can’t help but to feel a sense of gloominess as you couldn’t believe how things have changed in this district that you basically grew up in all these years. It still pains you how many, especially women and children, who were still living in poverty, and you wished you had the ability to release all of them from their misery. 

You suddenly reminisce back in the days, where you passed by the street where you and your family once resided. You were poor, and your father barely had the expenses to feed the entire family at least a meal a day. 

But after years of sacrifice and efforts, he managed to secure a simple job of being the clerk of your local police station. It took years for him to finally be able to achieve the detective title, but he sadly passed only a few years later as he succumbed to his tuberculosis. 

Your mother on the other hand, has done everything to support you as much as she could, and kept you safe too. Both her and your father were definitely against the idea of you following your father’s footsteps as the police force was nowhere for a female to be at. 

After your father’s death, you somehow managed to convince your mother to continue your father’s legacy. It was years until she had finally given up and accepted your determination.  

You had finally gotten the detective position when you were 24, but your mother sadly wasn’t here to see it. Ever since then, you’ve been alone, trying by all means to survive on your own. But as you had Selene and Eric by your side, things seemed a little better even during the most tumultuous times.

As you walked past your former place of residence, you locked your eyes on the brunette that was walking right into your direction. 

You waved your hands in excitement while looking at the male, and he responded the same way and he closed the distance. 

Hyunjae was away for a few days, having to return back to Scotland Yard to fill in the details to his superior. The male jokes about how he has not been able to eat and rest properly, and that he was dying from hunger and exhaustion. Seeing this as an opportunity, you offered the idea of hanging out at one of the nearby cafes that you often go to whenever you have a chance to have a lunch break away from the station.

“Oh my gosh Y/N, you’re a saviour”. Hyunjae tries to babble as he continuously stuffed his mouth with the multiple amounts of pastries that he ordered on a whim. You can’t help but to laugh, earning a growl from the male.

“Hey it’s not funny, I have been starving for days.” 

You couldn’t help but to chuckle at his remark. “It just amuses me how you have times where you’re absolutely hilarious, because you somehow paint me the picture that you’re a dependable and serious person when you do your job.” 

“And that’s why many find me attractive. I believe you’re on the same page too, no?”

You almost choked on your coffee. Seriously, does this man live on drugs or something? Why does he have to make such flirty comments every time you try to have a proper friendly conversation with him. 

Oh how your heart somehow enjoys these unexpected moments. 

“Well.. I mean.. You’re one of a kind, I guess.” You mumbled, not really wanting the individual to fully catch on what you’ve just said. But you know that will never be the case especially when his speciality is reading other people as part of his job.

“I like that Y/N. Of how genuine you can be. It still amazes me that you’re a detective, and of how far you’ve gotten. You really are impressive.” 

Not wanting to further deepen the red flushed tomato look on your face, you quickly cleared your throat and tried to change the topic, more specifically towards him. 

“So, how did the reports go back in Scotland Yard?” 

“Not much, just the usual.” He shrugged. “Though I must truly thank you for the breakthrough we’ve had with the case with your friend Selene.” 

At that moment, Hyunjae suddenly paused his gobbling spree as he now positions himself up straight on his chair and lays his crossed arms onto the table.  

“If I may ask though.” He paused, trying to read your facial expressions to see if it was alright to continue on with the topic. “How did you get to know Selene, I mean. I don’t wanna be rude, but y’know, since the both of you are in two totally different industries.” 

“No, of course not. I always get that impression a lot, and so does Selene. Well, to start off, we were neighbours at one point when we were kids. But both of us had a very different upbringing.” 

“I supposed it has something to do with Selene’s parents that drove her down to this line of work?” 

“Her mother was a prostitute as well, it was the only way for her to be able to provide for both of them and have a roof to live in. She never knew who her father was, and neither did her mother.” 

Taking a sip of your hot coffee, you continued. “I guess my mother also took the initiative to take care of Selene when her mother was away for work, as she can be gone for days even up to a week at times. Time passed and both of our mothers began to look out for each other, and so did the both of us as well.” 

With that, you’ve earned a smile plastered across the brunette’s face. “Well, I must say I am delighted to hear that Selene has gotten the help and support she needed since young, and I admire her for taking this path. Of course, not to say prostitution is a glamorous job, but these women are some of the toughest ones alive in this day and age. Sacrificing so many to provide for their loved ones, that’s a lot to shoulder on.” 

“I agree. But sometimes I just can’t help it but to feel bad for where I am now.” You sighed and gave Hyunjae a somewhat dejected look. 

Hyunjae was surely puzzled with what you’ve said as he did not expect such an answer to come out from you at all. “Why do you say that when you clearly have such an amazing job right now?”

“That’s the thing. The fact that I’m sitting in a well-maintained office and surrounded by people that makes me feel safe and comfortable whereas the other girls are out in the streets where everyday is like a battle to them. Like I wished they had a better environment to be in to earn money, and I would do anything to trade with them. That does not mean I condone adultery but you get the idea.” You clearly had to add on the last sentence to prove your point. 

Hyunjae then places the coffee that he was sipping down onto the table and leans slightly closer towards you. “Well, that’s why we exist, Y/N. We’re here to improve the law and help the citizens to have a better upbringing and life.” 

It was then Hyunjae then placed one of his palms on your hand that was seemingly resting on the table, which resulted you in having butterflies in your stomach. 

“And I’ll add on that I’m proud of where the police force has gotten at this point in time. We’re changing, improving for the better, to be able to help the people we care and are in need. As a police officer, I am proud of where I am now, and I hope you feel the same way too Y/N, because I sure do see the passion in your eyes and how you’re doing your very best in making a difference each day.” 

Wow. Just wow. You were stunned. Is this how profilers are so good in choosing their words of speech to the people they interact with on a daily basis? Because you sure are hypnotized by his words. You never knew that he could’ve said such comforting words even though you both have not begun working as partners for long, and now you’re damn sure and glad that he’s the one Scotland Yard sent for the cold case unit. 

“T-thank you, Hyunjae. I mean.” You stammered, and quickly cleared your throat to continue on. “Nobody has ever said something like that to me, and I’m grateful to have heard from your perspective.” 

Hyunjae has obviously found your shy demeanor adorable, wanting to tease you a bit more, he decided to cup your hand with both of his now. 

“Not at all partner, I’m glad to be able to help in any way I can.” 

Before you could get distracted, you again tried to quickly change the topic back to something else to distract yourself for a bit, while also pulling your hand away from his grasp if you do not wish to explode right in front of him any moment now. 

“Now that I have shared some parts of my stories, I think it’s fair for you to do the same, no?” 

He chuckled. “Aren’t you a sly woman yourself?” 

Instead of telling you his side of the story, Hyunjae then stood up from his chair. “Sure I’d tell you, but that will have to wait.”

He then gestures to the clock right behind the cafe counter.

“It’s time for us to get back to the office if you don’t wanna hear Chief Ayden’s grumblings. Also, it’s time for us to buckle up for tonight’s deal.”

main masterlist

[byers7wheeler]

Firstly I really, truly need you to understand you’re not a bad person for still enjoying the show and I am so sorry you’ve been made to feel that way.

I’m going to try and lay things out in a way that’s easy to understand:

Boycott - It can’t be boycott. ST is already getting made. Everyone is already getting paid. Nothing is stopping season 5’s release. People are being dramatic as hell and all you really can do to assist is cancel your Netflix subscription and not interact with posts on official pages (but absolutely post clips or screenshots etc same as usual for your own pages and enjoy them that way! For official accs it’s interaction levels people want to target)

You can also not buy merch, however if you receive merch as gifts from those who know that you like ST you are not a bad person for loving and keeping them!!! It’s not your money! I have to say that because I have seen others believe that, which is ridiculous. No logic to that.

“But then again there’s a literal genocide going on.” - Darling, it’s okay! It’s great that you show so much empathy, but there’s really only so much you can do. This specific situation is so dire, even things like donations as one normally would do to help have been discouraged because it’s not making it to the actual people! There’s a reason we sometimes feel helpless about it okay? You spread awareness when you feel you can, you go to protests if safe in your city, you write to any officials in your govt if safe to, you avoid giving to any brands you’re financially able to not support, and that’s kind of all right now. Recognizing your privilege in being able to step away when it feels mentally heavy is good too, but you’re still allowed to take a breather for a few days if needed. Nothing, absolutely nothing to do with your favorite show and your enjoyment of it.

The main thing:

A fandom is merely an extension of its source material, that is all fic writers, fan artists, video editors etc are doing. It is all fictional and removed from the streaming service. Nobody here is a marketing team - we all have SO much smaller influence than people think; we are not influencers, we are not promoters or journalists or review critics. Posting to your fandom feed does nothing. Posting to your personal Insta story about a new trailer? yeah that’s more promoting than sharing hype in a fandom space is.

If others can’t separate characters from actors, or are still at an immature stage where seeing someone’s face is enough to ruin their whole day and feel the need to change a character’s appearance because of it, or are unable to regulate themselves and step away and come back after cooling down instead of saying a million unnecessary things in the heat of the moment - that’s not my problem. It’s not your problem. They will try and make you think it’s your problem, what they’re saying and doing is truly morally correct (can’t be, they lack nuance in everything), that because they’re right you have to do exactly what they do - but you don’t. You can’t shut down a fandom and you shouldn’t. They can go away if they can’t separate things (and thankfully most are going away 🙏).

Nobody is pathetic or an asshole for still enjoying the show and everyone should keep an eye on the types of people who say things like that to guilt you (usually a fellow minor, mean spirited and often gets in random fights anyway, stans celebrities and isn’t used to a fandom where it’s understood fictional characters are not real people.).

Another big thing - it’s understandable to want opinions or talk things out with others, but I so discourage listening to anyone who tries to help but does so in a mean way (your gut will tell you). I say this because I saw you say the pressure of others is getting to you. Again I’m sorry, because that pressure is affecting so many people and it’s so good you broke free from that and asked instead of following blindly. So many of those people especially on tiktok will be minors and while they may know information, they don’t have a lot of experience and context to put it into and it’s all very surface level and performative. Not all of them, but definitely the one’s going for people’s throats. You’re 21 - find better sources and don’t listen to them. Step away from tiktok for a bit if you have to.

You’re not a shitty person. You’re not a shitty person. I hope you keep enjoying the show and when a wave of hate comes once filming starts or trailers drop I hope you stay strong! Try and find some people (preferably other mature adults) on tumblr or something to lean on! All love to you.

Omg anon you’re actually so fucking nice and sweet, I won’t even respond to all this I’ll respond more to your second one