#physical violence cw

[wri0thesley]

The push and pull between Alhaitham and Kaveh would be absolutely maddening, IMO. I love how the dynamic you've crafted. Like, Kaveh would hate to see Alhaitham punishing you with a belting, buuut it does push you into Kaveh's arms so nicely. Sure, it's hard to hear your cries after Alhaitham puts you over his knee and belts you thoroughly--but the way you run to Kaveh at the first opportunity after, letting him wipe away your tears, get you an ice pack for your ass... there is a bright side.

cw: captive reader, physical punishment, manipulation, belting, yandere, dub-con, non-con.

He knows he should do something. In the grand scheme of things, the infraction against Alhaitham's rules that had gotten you this punishment was not all that heinous. You had done worse things - and, in fact, had sometimes even managed to talk your way out of worse things, Alhaitham wanting to reward your rationality and sensible things you said, instead of letting your emotions guide you.

But . . .

Ah. He hates seeing you like this, your face all tear-stained and your lips swollen, the robes that Alhaitham lets you wear around the house - nothing more substantial, because you would surely be less inclined to escape if you were too embarassed to step foot outside the door even if you could - discarded to one side, your body bare. Alhaitham, for all he professes to be a feeble scholar, is more than capable of wresting you down and having you bent over his knee, the tender flesh of your rump on display for both men to see.

You shoot Kaveh an agonised look, your lovely mouth trembling, your entire body a tightly wound line of tension. This will not be the first time that Alhaitham has belted you, but that does not mean Kaveh wants to see it. That he enjoys seeing it.

No. Kaveh does not enjoy the physical punishment that Alhaitham inflicts, insistent that it's a perfectly valid way to teach you lessons and that you learning pain comes hand in hand with disobedience is the greatest training he can employ and the most sensible course of action. He has to be there for it, because despite it all Alhaitham is the landlord and in charge of such matters as this. He wants Kaveh to see just how his effective methods net positive results, in the hope Kaveh will take a leaf out of his book - but Kaveh does not have to enjoy the sight of you bent over the scribe's lap, the thwack of fine leather against your soft vulnerable parts, the hiccup of pain that echoes around the room as Alhaitham waits patiently for you to count the strikes aloud.

Physical violence does not arouse the architect. He feels bad for you; knows that he will toss and turn tonight remembering the desperation you'd looked at him with when all Kaveh could do was give you a sympathetic smile, a twitch of his brows.

But for all of that, when Alhaitham is done with you and is buckling his belt again with a curt; "I hope you'll remember this lesson next time," Kaveh feels the briefest thrill of excitement. Alhaitham takes himself off - presumably to do something about the tent in his trousers, because the scribe does at least understand that having you in that way right now wouldn't be good with you associating intimacy with anything positive - and you stay on your hands and knees for a moment, trembling, before you sniffle and look up at Kaveh with the prettiest gaze he's ever seen. Diamonds glittering on your lashes, your bottom lip a wobbling pout that he longs to kiss.

Kaveh takes the opportunity to swoop.

A hand carding over your hair, wiping your tears, soft hushings falling from his mouth as his thumb catches another tear before it can fall.

"I know, darling," Kaveh murmurs to you, pulling you into him. It's no time at all until you're curled in his lap, your head pressed beneath his chin. You do not even reach for your robe as you would if he were Alhaitham, a hundred times more comfortable with Kaveh than with anyone else. He presses a soft, chaste kiss to the top of your head and breathes in the scent of your hair, remembering how it smelt on his pillows. "I'm sorry he's such a brute to you."

"H-he's awful to you, too," you whimper out, as if the situations are in any way comparable. But Kaveh just gives you a sympathetic smile, another stroke, his arm tightening around you as if he can draw you in from the horrors of the world. You trust him implicitly, a situation he has carefully manipulated by sighing and occasional drops about his life, by listening to you when you sob and hesitantly admit things to him. By bringing you sweet treats that go against Alhaitham's wishes (he has a nutritious meal plan in place for you; treats are supposed to be earned, and you are not at all obedient enough for him to want to give you Padisarah Pudding just yet). By being there, by being an artist with a tender heart and saying to you how much he wishes he could help, but he too is under Alhaitham's thumb or he'd have no home at all-- "Kaveh--"

"I know," he soothes, letting one of his hands gently trace your spine, a touch that is intimate and affectionate and everything that Alhaitham is not. Your body presses against him in desperate search of his comfort.

"H-he's going to make me sleep in the cage again," you whisper to him, you eyes downcast. "H-he'll say he can't trust me whilst he's sleeping."

A twist in his heart that he hates to admit is triumph. You're always desperate after a night spent in the large cage Alhaitham had procured when he'd first brought you here. You suffer from night terrors already, but locked in those iron bars with nobody to press your body against - you're so needy for affection you'll practically initiate carnality yourself. Kaveh is always careful never to push you on that, and so when you do need it, if only to remind yourself you're still human . . . you always come to him, and not Alhaitham.

The scribe has tossed him a bone without even meaning to.

"You poor thing," Kaveh murmurs instead, sighing. You wince as you shift, the bruises and welts that are forming on your bottom clearly already causing you pain. "I'll get you an ice pack, yes? And I'll sneak you something sweet?"

Your fists clench into his shirt as if he's the only thing in the whole world you can hold onto.

And though he knows he should hate it, should resent himself for manipulating you like this, he cannot bring himself to do so.

[movedto-mastcrmarksman]

hawkeye + effects of childhood.

Clint Barton webweavings 1/??

credits under the read more;

ocean vuong, "someday i'll love" // hawkeye: blind spot // conan gray, "family line" // fraction's hawkeye // the front bottoms, "father" // fraction's hawkeye // agustín gómez-arcos, "the carnivorous lamb" // solo avengers vol 1 issue 2 // unknown // hawkeye and us agent's grudge, various runs // clementine von radics // the avengers (1963) issue 65 // unknown // thunderbolts (2022) issue 1 // satany, tumblr

@starsnheroes @mastcrmarksman tags myself so i can reblog this @mastcrmarksman

[bittwitchy]

Samara Weaving as Melanie Cross

[needleanddead]

We all know that Lucas can get physically violent in order to teach his captive a lesson no matter how much they cry, but is there a way to get out of that? Of course only if they didn't try to hurt him or leave but what if they for example break a rule on accident and apologize profusely? If begging and crying doesn't work, is there any way to convince him not to resort to physical violent aka breaking a bone or two?

a good enough apology will do, most of the time, if the infraction is small and if he can genuinely believe it’s an accident. breaking bones and twisting wrists and such is really for the major ones, or the ones he feels as though he’s had to drill into your skull and you’re still not getting it. but big wet eyes and sniffling and whimpering will often be enough to get you out of too much trouble - and draping yourself over him too, getting up close and in his personal space with the clear intention that you’d be willing to apologise with physical intimacy afterwards—

well. as much as he feels bad about it, he just thinks his darling looks so fuckin’ cute crying.

[fletcherwilbury]

@febuwhump Day 4: Obedience

Warning for Physical violence, physical abuse, verbal abuse, overworking, exhaustion, injury, broken bones, illness, fever, coughing, wheezing, arguing, medication, bruises

[an-idyllic-novelist]

Husk with Violet Evergarden!reader scenario

warnings: aged-up!reader [early to late twenties], spoilers for episode 4 to the season finale, mentions of physical abuse and attempted drugging, violence, Husk's language, dismemberment, mentions of cannibalism.

Hey guys, and welcome to another Hazbin Hotel fics, this time featuring our grumpy bartender and one of my favorite characters, Husk! :) This is a collaborated project with not just @isuckatwritingsobenice, but also with @vikkirosko, @witch-of-the-writing-desk, and @riddle-simp, who gave me honest feedback on the rough drafts and how to make it the best fic I could create before sharing it with the world.

If you would like to see more of Husk x Violet, please do let me know know in the comments section or as an ask! Like always, bullying is not tolerated here so if there is any implication of it happening here, this scenario will be taken down immediately. If you have nothing nice to say, do not say it at all.

With that being said, sit back, relax, and let's see who will win the full house at the card tables tonight :)

Reblog to support content creators!

Husk isn’t gonna deny it. It ain’t like him to deny the truth when it’s staring at him right in the fucking face. He thinks you are a little bit of an oddball. You don’t smile, you wear the same outfit every day, and you don’t eat much either unless Niffty practically drags you to the staff’s dining room from wherever she found you hiding. Normally, it’s one of two places: out in the backyard, or the greenhouse, because you’re the hotel’s groundskeeper. And that was on your days off.

 Like Angel, you worked for an overlord, but your boss wasn’t that shitbag Valentino or Vox or Velvette. Your boss is Rosie, the owner of Rosie’s Emporium in the Cannibal Colony. You were her personal secretary. You had been on her payroll for over ten years, working from nine to five unless you had to stay later. She did not seem to mind you staying at the hotel so long as it did not affect her reputation or your work ethic in any way. 

So far you’ve kept your word. Alastor actually seemed to be happy that you were around. 

Maybe. Husk couldn’t fucking tell what that son of a bitch is thinking anymore. But back to you. 

You, who believed in Charlie’s work.

You, who participated in each activity and helped around without getting paid for your time.

You, the expressionless ex-military soldier, has been on his mind recently and he did not like it. 

He lost the ability to feel anything years ago. 

Nonetheless he continued to observe you from afar. When you weren’t busy with watering plants, you were seen in different parts around the hotel with the others. 

You would sit with the princess in the parlor, comparing ideas on what tomorrow’s group exercise should be, even when the only two ideas you’ve suggested were shot down immediately by Charlie. She didn’t like the idea of group bonding through hand-to-hand combat but loved the concept of showing appreciation to one another through handwritten letters. Vaggie approved the former. The latter? Not so much. 

In the kitchen you would go through the cookbook with Niffty and Alastor, trying to decide on tonight’s dinner.  They allowed you to help out, at least when it didn’t involve cracking eggs. Apparently you were not very good at separating the yolk. 

When Sir Pentious was away from the hotel doing God knows what, he trusted you to look after the Egg Bois until he got back. You kept them busy around the greenhouse though they tended to make a bit of a mess. 

Angel started to work extra late at the studio after his show and tell presentation. Something about making a big commercial and Val wanted to make big bucks on this new product that the Vees were launching in a week. You must have noticed that something was off about him, but you didn’t say anything to him. No words of encouragement, no comforting hand on his shoulder. All you did was clench your gloved hands into fists, watching him leave and…unsure of yourself. What you should do. 

Husk heard you asking Niffty what were some of the kid’s favorite foods about that time, and she was more than happy to help you with whatever it was you needed as long as you left the kitchen sparkling when you were done. You were concerned about the kid. Least from what he could remember. He drank a lot that day. 

When he woke up much later after falling asleep at the bar, hearing your footsteps descend down the grand staircase and towards the kitchen. Groggily, probably stupidly on his part, Husk thought it would be a great idea to know what the fuck you were up to so early in the morning. Turns out you were trying to cook something, judging from how you looked at the ratty cookbook propped up on the counter and the wide array of ingredients spread out. 

He saw you cook  finely chopped onions, garlic, and minced ground meat in the large frying pan on the left side of the stove. You stirred something in a smaller sauce pan on the right side with a wooden spoon. He saw you handle all of the ingredients with great care, placing them in a baking dish  even when you weren’t wearing your leather gloves. A small shudder crawled down his spine at how the kitchen lights bounced off of the adamantium skeletal prosthetics that acted as your hands. 

He didn’t even wanna know how exactly you lost them in the Great War. 

Everything was soon laid out, layer by layer and placed in the oven. He didn’t know he stood there for so long, even when you began to clean up the kitchen with a rag. Time ticked by slowly, and then a delicious aroma tickled his nose even as he took another swing of the half-filled booze bottle he was holding. He was about to leave you alone, knowing you’d be fine when he saw you pull out the dish with your hands and no oven mittens on, you fucking moron! Then his mind remembered something that stopped him from making an entrance. You couldn’t feel anything with your prosthetics, not even as you placed it on the stove top to let it sit. 

A couple of hours later - maybe he can’t keep track of time anymore so it might have been the following morning - he saw you giving Angel a large paper bag every morning before both of you left the hotel, and telling him to have a good day. 

Angel grudgingly thanked you later on that evening when he got back…though did say your garlic bread needed some work. The next day, he gave you a paper bag, telling you to taste real Italian grub and try to replicate it. 

Guess it became a game between the two of you, ‘cause Angel was slowly being someone real and not some fake  whiny bitch. 

As odd as you are….you cared about everyone in your own way, even when the words that came out of your mouth angered someone or made them cry, you tried. You never asked for help unless it was necessary, trying to learn everything on your own. And you were smart, Husk will give you that. 

And he…he doesn’t know if he had the heart to tell you that redemption might not be possible. Unlike him, you still carried a spark of hope. You believe in the princess. He doesn’t want to be the one to see you reach your breaking point, to be dragged into a swamp of despair and get drowned in all sorts of addictions to cope with the pain. He was…anxious. No. He was scared for you. He wanted to help you but he was afraid that by intervening, he would just make matters worse.

It was better to just stick to the sidelines with a bottle of booze and watch everything happen like the bartender Alastor wanted him to be, right? Well, turns out he was wrong. 

One night after he made Angel a drink and called him out on his bullshit for being fake, the whiny little bitch stormed out of the hotel. Vaggie tried to make him go out and bring him out, but Charlie intervened. All she asked him was to make sure that Angel was okay. Do not force him to come back if he isn't ready. Obviously judging from the distraught look on her face, something happened between the princess and Angel. 

Husk did not know what or why, and he really did not want to play the role of a goddamned babysitter. Not when it was actually a slow evening and he didn’t have to hear these fucks bitch and moan for hours on end. But Vaggie’s glare, knowing Alastor would force him to do it because he fucking can and not knowing what would happen if he actually violated the terms of their contract, he left the hotel. The first place he went to were the streets. No luck. And no one had seen him. When he moved his search to the bars, he spotted Angel going inside one of them. 

Long story short, he was going to hang back and just keep an eye on Angel getting drunk off his ass with some shady sharks in a corner booth until he saw one of them pour something into Angel’s drink. He took care of the fucker, got Angel out, and listened to him. Angel Dust was not just an act. It’s who he needs to be. Drinking and getting high is his escape. He wants to be damaged so that he won’t be Val’s favorite toy anymore. 

Then when it seemed like they came to an understanding with a song, those bastards opened fire on the streets, targeting him and wanting Angel to come back to have some ‘fun’. Yeah, fuck no. 

That was when he heard car tires screeching against the asphalt, doors opening and closing with more shouting. Husk gritted his teeth. “Shit.” He turned to Angel. “Stay down. I’ll take care of this.” He pulled out his cards, ready to hop onto the roof of the pink Volkswagen they were hiding when he heard a  shnk, a high pitched squeal, then a gurgle. 

THUD.

Shnk.

THUD.

C-crack.

THUD.

“Who the fuck is this bitch?! Kill her, kill her you stupid asshats!” 

“Holy shit, toots?! The fuck - why is she here?!” Angel cried. Husk raised his brow, craning his head as far as he could without being in range of a bullet to see what was going on. There were only two people Angel called toots and he was pretty damned sure they were back at the hotel, safe and sound. Not one of them blitzing across the street, dodging bullets and slicing enemies down with a hunter’s knife in one hand, a large carpet bag in the other. 

He blinked. Nope. He was sober. Shit. He thought as you weaved between the shitheads, disarming, decapitating, and snapping their necks in no particular order. You weren’t exaggerating when you said you were a weapon for the army.  When he saw a flash of movement from the smaller grunt, twirling a knife and aiming it for your head as you pumped lead into his friend, Husk made his move. Hopping onto top of the car and threw his cards. One cleanly sliced the asshole’s neck. 

He quickly made through the growing crowd, running towards you as he threw some dice into a hammerhead’s mouth. But when he turned his back towards them, he felt something light and strong coil around his neck, cutting off his air supply. 

Fuck. Garroting wire! Husk flailed around  scratching, kicking,  and trying to get loose but the fucker was too damned strong. Black spots began to appear in the corner of his eyes when he felt a white hot stinging pain graze his left cheek, then something warm and sticky with a metallic scent. Blood.

The body behind him dropped, and so did he, yanking the wire off  him and inhaling deep gulps of  precious oxygen. Husk looked up and saw Angel with a shit-eating grin and a Tommy Gun in his upper hands. 

“Eat lead, sucker!” The porn star cackled, firing several more bullets into the corpse and his buddies that were closing in on them. Angel grinned at him, extending a hand to help him up.”I told ya. I can handle myself, baby.” Husk felt a grin stretching his own face as the fella pulled out more weapons with more arms. Well….not something he was expecting. 

Between the three of them, they made quick work with the rest of the gang and their reinforcements. Like him and Angel, you were covered in grime and blood but you were all right. 

“Are you two all right?” You asked as you wiped off the blood from your knife with a handkerchief, the carpet bag by your feet and in pristine condition. “No limbs missing that weren’t missing before you arrived?” 

“Yeah, we’re good.” Angel said, putting away his guns and extra limbs. “More importantly, why the fuck are you out here instead of the hotel?!” He interrogated, his voice lowering an octave as he glared at you, stomping towards you. Before Husk could stop him, Angel grabbed  your cheeks with his hands and pinched them. “You know these streets are dangerous, toots! How many times do Vags and I gotta tell ya?! Come straight home when you’re done with work!” Then he blinked, his face turning white, his eyes widening in horror. “Toots,” He said slowly. “Y-you ain’t hooking up with anyone around here, are ya?!” He yelled, now pulling your cheeks outwards as if you were a cartoon character. 

You didn’t flinch from the cheek pinching or pulling; instead, you looked at him in slightly confusion. “I don’t understand. What does fishing have anything to do with this except that these men were quite literally loan sharks standing outside a nautical-themed bar?” You asked. 

“Toots.” Angel said warningly. “If you don’t give me a straight answer, I swear to fucking God I am going to yeet you off a rooftop.”

“ ‘Yeet’?” You repeated.

“[First Name], just tell us why you’re here.” Husk said, already feeling a headache coming on and in need of a drink. You turned your attention to him, then back at Angel before you spoke.

“Rosie sent me out on a last-minute errand to get fertilizer for her plants. But by the time I got there, the shop was already closed. I was on my way home when I heard the gunshots, and saw the two of you being pinned down. I was not going to leave my comrades behind when I could help them. So I did. And now,” You looked over at the bodies strewn across the street. “I have what I need. Two birds with one stone, as Rosie says.”

“Ya mean ‘kill two birds with one stone’, toots?”

“Yes.”

“So, by fertilizer, ya mean these schmucks that we just totally obliterated.”

“Yes.”

“Food for plants.”

“Carnivorous plants. And if the fertilizer is fresh, the better it is for them. Rosie loves her plants very much.” You said, pulling away from Angel and grabbed the carpet bag off of the ground, walking towards the nearest body. “If you do not want to be here, I suggest you leave quickly.” You knelt down, laying the bag down and opened it, laying out assorted tools. Bone saws, knives, a large roll of plastic wrap, etc. “Rosie says I have gotten much quicker at dismemberment.” You carefully peeled off your gloves, replacing them with gray surgical ones. 

Husk glanced at Angel, eyebrow raised. It seemed like they were thinking the same thing because the latter spoke up with a toothy grin. 

“Baby, I was a mobster long before I was a porn star. ‘Sides, hacking up a body all by yourself is gonna take you all night. Better to have more hands to get the job neater an’ faster, am I right Whiskers?” 

Husk smirked. “Can’t argue with that, Legs. Guess you’re stuck with us until this job is done. You got another bone saw in that bag of yours?” He asked with a grin, somehow…happy to actually be doing this. Who would have thought a new friendship started with cleaning up bodies?

You stared at them for a moment, obviously stunned because you must have thought they’d leave you here alone, before you pulled out two more bone saws and more rubber gloves. Your instructions were simple enough: the severed pieces couldn't be any bigger than your body, and they needed to be wrapped up tightly in the plastic wrapping or else you’d have to pay a hefty cleaning bill to get the blood out of the bottom of the bag. Angel’s extra limbs came in handy for the latter task. Between the three of you, quick work was made with the dead loan sharks and everything was loaded inside the carpet bag, and no one was the wiser. This was Hell, after all. Cannibalism, gun fights, and dismemberment was commonplace in these parts. 

You thanked him and Angel profusely, bowing your head to them before you shyly asked if they would be interested in getting a bite to eat. To Angel’s knowledge, the closest place that is still open late at night is Devil’s Diner, which is half a  block from Jackpot, the casino Husk had owned from his glory days as an overlord. The food wasn’t too bad there, and cheap too. 

Now that he thought about it, Husk had worked up more of an appetite after the fight and so did Angel. Better to do that than trying to cook something and waking up Niffty. So, the three of you went to Devil’s Diner. Of course, you tried to just have a cup of coffee, but neither he nor Angel were having it. Conditioning your body to minimize nutrients to complete a mission, his ass. 

Both he and Angel persuaded you to try the day’s special with some water plus dessert. Whatever you couldn’t finish, get a to-go box. Husk himself ordered a sandwich with chips. Angel got pancakes, sausage, strawberries, and a strong drink because he fucking deserved it. 

Conversation started slow at first, but as the orders were placed and drinks were served by their waiter, words were exchanged, and stories were shared. Angel revealed he had a little brother and more family down here, though he rarely talked to them anymore after getting into the show biz. Husk confessed that he used to be a magician in Las Vegas, showing off a trick with his cards. 

They shared a good laugh over Val’s shitty eyesight. It shouldn’t take thirty minutes to count three bills, but it fucking did for the moth man.

You told them that you were once commissioned to help a playwright finish his newest script after being on a hiatus for many years, but he had been a difficult man to work with because he had no interest in doing anything else except drinking his days away. You had actually acted out a scene on the lake where the hero would journey home to be reunited with her father after vanquishing a monster. That was when you began to understand how grief affects people in different ways…and how your actions affected the people you had killed on the battlefield. People who had families and had one-day wishes that would never be fulfilled because they died by your hand. You are here in Hell because you are, you were, a weapon to be used in war. Reconnecting with people, with your emotions…it’s a lot harder than you thought it would be. 

“That’s what being human is all about.” Husk said. “Ya make mistakes, ya regret the choices ya wish ya would have made, or should’ve made, and ya need to live with it.” He knew that better than anyone. 

“The old timer’s got a point but look at how far you’ve come!” Angel exclaimed, spreading his arms out as he began listing all the good things you have done and accomplished since you came to the hotel, though you still needed to learn how to bake real Italian bread, not just heat up the cheap frozen ones in the oven. Husk silently agreed with him, taking another swing of his whiskey. In the end, you got a to-go box, but Angel said he could take it back with him to the hotel. You still needed to deliver the body parts to your cannibal superior and Husk said he’d go with you. But you insisted that you would be fine on your own, and that he and Angel should get some rest. 

“Rosie will not let me stay long in the emporium with how late it already is. She’s very particular about keeping the lights on after business hours.” You said, the corners of your mouth tugging downwards into a frown as your gaze fell upon his wings. “Husk…you were twitching a little and I heard your spine crack earlier, and your voice sounded a little raspy. I do not know what the cause of your ailments beyond the scuffle with those loan sharks could be because I am not a doctor…but it would be better if you and Angel took it easy for the rest of the night.” 

Keep in mind that Husk had once been an overlord. Yes, he’s been out of the game for a while, he won’t deny it. But he was not going to admit that you might be right.  “There’s nothin’ to worry about, I’ll be fine. If I can handle a fight, taking you where you need to go will be a walk in the park.” He grumbled, ignoring Angel’s snickering. 

He watched you raise your hand, fingers outstretched towards one of his wings, and then you pulled it away to clench your hand into a loose fist. Husk saw your hesitancy isn’t because you were disgusted at the sight of them, or his appearance. Hell, you had more bloodstains on your clothes than him and Angel combined. No. You were hesitating because you were afraid that your touch might hurt him, or make the pain he was feeling worse. 

Husk grinned as he grabbed your wrist, pulling it forward and carefully coiling the gloved fingers around the outer part of the left wing near his forearm to give it a squeeze. “See?” He flexed the muscles. “I’m fine. You ain’t got nothin’ to worry about.” It took him a second to realize how impulsive his actions were, seeing how your eyes widened and hearing Angel release a low, teasing whistle, muttering “Kinky~!” under his breath. Great. The kid wasn’t going to let this go, not even after a few drinks. Shit. Fuck. 

He tried to ignore the warmth flooding his face as he kept his gaze on you until you nodded your head, removing your hand from his wing. You were convinced that he was more than fine to accompany you back to Cannibal Colony, at least for the moment. You turned to Angel. “Are you going to be okay, heading back to the hotel on your own?”

Angel smiled toothily. “Toots, you should know me by now. Sex isn’t the only thing I’m good at.” He winked, holding up the to-go boxes as he turned on his heel, waving his extra hands over his shoulder. “See ya back at the bar! Ya still owe me a drink, Husker~!” Now that he left the diner, it was time for the two of you to make your exit. 

You walked down the steps and looked at him. “Ready?”

Husk nodded. “Yeah.” He then held out his paw to you. “Let’s get going.” You nodded, placing your hand in the center of his own, covering the golden-heart shaped paw  before he scooped you up in his arms, one claw under your legs and the other around your shoulders. You stared at him.

“What-”

“Hang on tight.” Husk did not give you a chance to respond, unfurling his wings to their full length before putting all of his weight on his back leg, catapulting the two of you into the crimson skies of the Pride Ring. Walking was fine and all, but as you mentioned, it was already pretty late. Why waste more time when he could fly there? 

So here you were, held like a princess with one arm wrapped around the carpet bag and your hand placed on his shoulder. But instead of screaming your head off or pleading with him to land somewhere, your attention was elsewhere. You were captivated with the multi-colored pin pricks of light down below,  your mouth partly open and [Eye Color] irises widened by a fraction. It was obvious that you hadn’t seen Hell from above. Or maybe you hadn’t traveled by air before. Either way, seeing such an expression on your face, one that wasn’t calm or expressionless like a doll who lived by someone else’s order.

You looked like a living, breathing human who had her own thoughts and could find beauty in the most bizarre of places. 

It almost made Husk consider extending this flight for a little longer until he realized he’d have to explain to you in great detail as to why he did decide to do it. So he brushed it off, and followed your instructions to your destination. 

Twenty minutes later, the two of you arrived at the stone steps leading up to the glass double doors of Rosie’s Emporium. The dimly lit streets were mostly empty, the bars were still open and echoed with raucous laughter and jazz. It was tempting to slip inside there for a drink, but Husk wasn’t too keen on being around cannibalistic drunks. Alcoholic he might be, he wasn’t that stupid. And he didn’t want you to get in trouble with the overlord who ran this place. She was your boss, not his. 

He watched you put a hand into your coat pocket and pulled out a small golden key. You put it in the dead bolt, twisting it to the left before pushing the door open. “Miss Rosie?” You called out, stepping inside the darkened establishment. “Miss Rosie, it is me. I am back.” 

A moment of silence enveloped the place, but only briefly because soon a tall, thin woman in a burgundy dress with an oversized hat and feathers materialized in front of you. She was at least two or three heads taller than you, smiling down with rows of sharp, gray teeth and pitch black orbs. “Oh there you are, I was startin’ to really get worried! Did John give you everything for my precious little sprouts?”

You quickly explained what had happened, how you could not see John because he had closed the shop by the time you got there but the fertilizer you collected from a gun fight you got into and came out victorious should be more than enough. Rosie was all but delighted, twirling in a small circle as she cooed.

“Ohh, I knew it was a good idea to hire you from the moment you came for the interview! I wish I could’ve seen you at work, using that bone saw and hacking away at corpses, but there’s always another day~! You know how many people come in wishing to have their husbands or wives ripped from limb to limb, at least the ones that taste bad! Ah?” She stopped dancing, craning her long neck to stare at him. “Who’s this you brought with you, [First Name]?” She looked over her shoulder, wagging a finger at you with a raised brow. “Come now, I know I said I wanted you to find a good fella someday, but this one’s way too scruffy for you and you’re much too young for him! Oh, I’m just kidding, I know you’re dedicated to your job! Well? Introduce us!”

You did, introducing him to the overlord as Husk and the hotel’s bartender. Alastor must have told her about him because she immediately called him ‘Alastor’s kitty cat’ and ‘how he used to be such a sophisticated-looking fella until he gambled against Alastor’. She laughed. “Well, small world, after all! [First Name], be a dear and take that bag into the back, will you? I’ll feed the little monsters myself, and you can go home! Oh, did you want some pinky fingers to go? I’ve got plenty of them and you probably didn’t eat dinner again, am I right?”

“Understood. And no thank you, though I will take up on the offer to try one of those roasted legs next time.” Husk almost gagged at your monotone words and Rosie’s cackle, but he had to keep his composure. As far as he knew, you were not a cannibal. And if you were…well, you probably wouldn’t have gone out of your way to help him and Angel, or at least order something from the Cannibal’s Section at the diner instead of force feeding yourself on the daily special. 

You might have only been gone for a few minutes, but it was awkward to stand near Rosie, the way she smiled at him like she was thinking about adding him to her menu for not dressing up in a vintage outfit. At least he hoped not. He could barely contain his relieved sigh when you appeared again, hands empty with no bag in sight. 

“It’s done.”

“Wonderful~! Now, you march up to bed as soon as you get in the door young lady! No staying up late!” She said, following the two of you to the door. “Give my regards to Alastor and tell that man he must come back soon! These halls have lost their sparkle without his lively presence! Oh! Before I forget~!” She snapped her fingers, and in a puff of dark red smoke, a large wad of bills materialized in your hands. “Here’s your paycheck! I know it’s a little early but I have a very important task for you to do tomorrow!” She grinned. “Go to town and buy yourself some new clothes for work!”

You faltered. “But -”

“Tomorrow is your day off I know, and I really, really love your enthusiasm when you try to come in to help around, but a proper lady of society cannot live on just one dress and a pair of boots! Oh, and you will also need to get a Hellphone in case something like this happens again! No ifs, ands, or buts! If Alastor throws a fit about it, I’ll talk to him! Now, shoo! Husker, be a dear and get my darling worker back to that hotel safely, all right?” She added with a wink.

Husk grunted exasperatedly but did not say a word. The last thing he wanted to do was go pissing off an overlord who just happened to be the Boss’ friend. So he just nodded, and followed you out of the door. When it shut behind them with a click, things got…awkward. Now that you weren’t carrying around a bag full of body parts, there was no need to fly all the way back to the hotel. Or at least that he thought you were thinking. 

But he told you that he didn’t mind, since Charlie was probably already worried about the two of you even if Angel had somehow managed to persuade her otherwise. So…you agreed, albeit hesitantly. Husk didn't waste any more time. He scooped you up in his arms and took off into the night skies, though with this being the Pride Ring, there was really no way to tell if it was day or night anymore. Cannibal Colony soon became another darkened spot, getting smaller and smaller until it disappeared from sight. 

As soon as the two of you made it back to the hotel, Husk had no doubt everyone would be giving him shit. Angel would make comments on his little ‘date’ went, which he’ll deny in every possible way, and the princess might be cryin’ from anxiety or relief knowing that two of you were all right. But that was then. This is now. And…he’s come to like holding you in his arms. 

“Husk?”

“Yeah?” He felt the arms around his neck tighten slightly…but not that it wasn’t too uncomfortable. It felt…okay. Like you were trying to say something, but you struggled to find the right words to say without sounding like an ass. 

“Thank you…for everything.”

His lips stretched into a grin. "You're welcome." 

He felt the cold of your palms, it would seem, through the gloves, but it was not so important. Because as the two of you flew back to the place you called home, he saw you smiling down at the Pentagram in wonder, whispering the places you had visited and or wondered what they were or if he knew anything about them, to which he either answered yes or no. It was such a small smile, but how could he not commit not it to his memory? 

And maybe, just maybe, it wouldn’t be so bad to get a drink with you on a night around town. Or make one for you at his bar. He knew how to make a good non-alcoholic pina colada, even an alcoholic version of it. But who knows? He’ll take things one step at a time, and see what happens. 

What Husk did not realize at the time, not too far in the distant future, you would be the one to close the gap between them…and there would be something more between the two of you. Something that made his days in Hell just a little brighter. 

Taglist: @riddle-simp @kanroji-san @star-fawn21 @luthefriendlywitch @kameyo-kumo @solesurvivorjen @solandis-does-stuff @ladydoe8 @victheauthor @anielly-2010 @dilucragnvindr-my-beloved @bones4thecats @mmelionsblog @frompeach @nixie-writes @tired-of-life-86 @trecllllllll @lanxianschoenheit @22carolina08 @justamegafan @the-cat-queen-peasants @oucx @diamondzoey @alyriaschoenheit @lbcreations-blog @alastorsart @nunezs-stuff @sillypenguincats @theunknowntravel3r @imperfectbloodmoon @no1sillybilly @likesugarandcyanide @bladeismine @bones4thecats

[li-an-nie]

“Shut up, bastard. You don't know anything about me.”

“I get it now. Like you said, it’s not about me. It’s about you. You can’t live and love yourself unless you utterly crush those beneath you.”

______________________________________

“I wish I could’ve killed you a long time ago, you fucking piece of trash.”

______________________________________

drew a scene from my fanfic Bastard Truth Ch.2!!

[alastor-simp]

Antidote☠️💉 - Angel Dust x Powerful Reader Part 1

⚠️Warning- This story contains mentions of abuse/sexual themes, so be warned if this makes you uncomfortable. This story is gonna contain some spoilers from Episode 4 of the series⚠️

Twirling the martini in your hand, you let out a sigh. You were sitting at the bar in the Hazbin Hotel, completely bored out of your mind. Your name was Y/N, or Morana, the frost demoness overlord that resided in Pride. Having arrived in Hell a few years ago, the power you wielded toppled over numerous overlords, causing you to be truly feared by those who attempted to threaten you. While you did possess unyielding power, you never used it for sadistic satisfaction, only in means to defend yourself. The true side of you was a compassionate demon, wanting to help those under dire circumstances, and also defend those you loved dearly. How you arrived at the hotel, was during one of your walks down Pride ring, and listened in to the 666 news. The broadcast was focused on Lucifers own daughter, Charlie Morningstar. She was going on about her hotel project that wanted to help rehabilitate demons, making them able to be forgiven to ascend to heaven. The sentiment touched you greatly, while the other demons around you, found it completely ridiculous and went on about their day. In fairness, redemption was not an easy thing to accomplish, and you had committed many sins in hell, that left you with no shot to go up to the golden gates. However, there were demons that either landed in hell for unknown reasons that didn't qualify as sin or wanted to make a change in their current life. Feeling for the kindhearted princess, you decided to head to the hotel, wanting to offer any services you could provide.

Charlie and Vaggie were shocked having seen you at the door, not expecting, not one but TWO overlords coming to the hotel. Charlie had heard the stories about you, but she saw purity in your eyes, and was ecstatic when you offered to help. Vagatha, immediately, pointed the spear to your throat, expected honesty, since you were almost on the same scale as Alastor. She saw no deception when you further explained yourself to her, resulting in her trusting you, but barely. Charlie then introduced you to everyone else that was residing in the lobby.

Laying on one of the couches appeared to be an 8 ft spider-like demon, sporting a semi-revealing outfit with pink gloves and black heels. Based on how he presented himself, he was very confident in his looks. His response to seeing you was a toothy smirk, along with a wink. It caused a bit of pink tinge to your cheeks. You responded back with a smile and wave, as Charlie kept dragging you by the hand. Simply adorable was your thoughts when you saw the little bundle of excitement, speed towards you, smiling wide and hopping with enthusiasm. She commented how pretty you were, before darting to catch the bugs with a needle. Catching a flash of red in the corner, your irises spotted Alastor the radio demon. You had come across him during your time in Hell. The both of you had no beef thankfully. You knew the power he wielded and treated him with respect, despite not enjoying his methods, but he was a gentleman, and that earned points in your book. Alastor assumed you were a power hungry overlord when he saw you near his turf, and couldn't wait to broadcast your screams in Hell. That idea diminished quickly, after learning how charming of a demon you were, and showed no fear when meeting him, acting very cordial with him. "Highly unusual" he thought since many demons feared him on sight, fleeing like cockroaches. He now considered you a very good companion, which wasn't easy to accomplish, so consider yourself VERY LUCKY being in Alastors good books. The last demon, was a anthropomorphic cat demon, standing near the hotel bar. He was guzzling cheep booze, before stopping when you introduced yourself. A head nod was his response to you, as he went back to drinking. Vaggie was able to tell you his name was Husk, and he was a bit of a grump.

Your arrival occurred a few months ago, and you had managed well in the Hotel. True, it was a bit difficult to get new demons to come, but like Charlie, you had many inspiring ideas to help, which Charlie greatly appreciated. Sir Pentious was the new addition to the group. He was very fearful of you since you had roughed him up a bit in the past when he was going around blowing up everything with his blimp. You appeased him, saying that you were here to help and that you would not fight him again. Well, he was very grateful for that. He was a bit of a dork, but he had a soft heart underneath that "wannabe overlord" persona. The relationships you built with everyone only grew over time, and you considered them all family, despite being very dysfunctional. Back to the present at the hotel bar, you were observing Charlie and the others, minus Alastor, watching one of Angels most popular films. It was obvious it was highly inappropriate so you decided to skip seeing it, but you felt rude to just leave the room, so you stayed around.

"Haha! What do you think you f✪✪✪✪? Starting to appreciate how good my skills are yet? I told ya let me do the next advertisement for this place, and there will be a line out the door!" Angel dust exclaimed this, laughing while laying on the couch. Charlie was flushed to her ears, but she was able to clear her throat and said that while she appreciated Angel wanting to help, she didn't want to exploit him like that. Rolling his eyes, Angel just said "whatever toots" and crossed his arms. A loud ringing penetrated the room, causing everyone to jump. It was Angel Dusts phone, giving how quick he got up to answer it. He was quick to walk away from the group, but you knew something was off, as you tried to listen to the conversation. "B-boss, You need me right now?! But I- No no, I'm not- Sigh, okay Valentino." That did not sound good. Your eyes gazed at Angel's face, and you saw the fear plastered all over it. That face was quick to disappear, and Angel put on a wide smile. "Welp. Time to head to work. Sayonara Bit✪✪✪✪" Flashing everyone four middle fingers, he bolted out the door. "Wait Angel" Charlie extended her hand out to stop Angel, but it was too late. Getting up from the bar, you placed your hand on Charlie's back, asking what was wrong. Charlie went on to explain that she wanted to finish the exercise with Angel, but now he got called away from his boss." Charlie insisted that she wanted Angel to spend more time at the hotel, but she knew he had a job to do with his current boss. Thinking of a way to help, your thoughts dissipated when Charlie came up with an idea. She would go to his workplace and talk to Angel's boss. "Charlie, I understand you want to do this, but it might not be so easy to reason with Valentino." Warning Charlie, you tried to make her change her mind but she was determined to do it. Heaving a sigh, you let Charlie go through with the plan, but you were coming along, since you figured she might need some help dealing with the moth man.

"Ah! Angel-cakes~! You made it right on time." Valentino swayed his way over to Angel, who was wearing a large fake smile, as he didn't want to upset him. "Of course, boss!" Angel winked at Val, as his body was getting dragged by him. "Wanted to do a spicy session today~. Couldn't decide on BDSM or doing 20 guys, but I figured why not both. You can handle it right, baby~!" Valentino leaned down towards Angel, exposing his golden tooth, as red saliva dripped from his mouth. Chills rain down Angels back, and he wanted to pull away, but he stopped himself. "Of course Val. You know me. I can go on forever without stopping" Angel smiled through the pain. "Excellent Angel-cakes. Now run along and get ready, and be quick about it" His sweet laced words then turned venomous, as he smacked Angels behind causing him to yelp, as he went into his dressing room. Angel was standing in the center of the shooting room, getting touched up by the makeup crew. Cameras were scattered around the room and stage lights were aiming at Angel. Valentino was sitting in the directors chair, gazing at Angel with glowing red eyes. "Now ACTION!!" The clapperboard snapped, signaling Angel to start. Heaving a deep sigh, Angel put on a smile and started doing what he does best.

(This song is such a bop and extremely heartbreaking. Credit to Blake Roman and Vivziepop for making this amazing song)

🎶I'm not above a love to cash in Another lover underneath those flashin' lights Another one of those ruthless nights Yeah, yeah, yeah I shoulda' guessed that this would happen I shoulda' known it when I looked in your red-hot eyes Spewin' all your red-hot lies Yeah, yeah, yeah What's the worst part of this hell? I can only blame myself 'Cause I know you're poison You're feedin' me poison Addicted to this feelin', I can't help but swallow Up your poison I made my choice, and Every night I'm livin' like there's no tomorrow Oh-oh, oh-oh Any way you want me, baby That's the way you got me, I'll be yours My story's gonna end with me dead from your poison I got so good at bein' untrue I got so good at tellin' you what you wanna hear I disassociate, disappear Yeah, yeah, yeah So far beyond difficult to resist another gulp Yeah, I know it's poison You're feedin' me poison I'm chokin' from the taste and I can't help but swallow Up your poison I made my choice, and Every night I'm wasted like there's no tomorrow Oh-oh, oh-oh Any way you want me, baby That's the way you got me, I'll be yours My story's gonna end with me dead from your poison Poison, I'm drownin' in poison I'm fillin' up my glass but it's always hollow Full of poison, I'm sick of the poison Wish I had something to live for tomorrow…🎶

Laying on the floor in his dressing room, Angel was curled up into a ball. Tears were raining down his cheeks, staining it with black mascara. He was in pain, it was clear, but he had to pull through with it, unless he wanted to suffer Valentino's wrath. A knocking was heard from the other side of the door. It was one of the crew members telling Angel it was time for the next session. Collecting himself off of the ground, he walked over to his mirror. Wiping off the stains of ruined makeup, he applied it back on. Staring at himself in the mirror, it took everything in him not to punch his reflection. Taking a deep breath, Angel put on his mask, and headed to the next session. As he made his way over to the shooting spot again, Angel heard voices from the right side of the room. Looking towards them, he gasped in shock, seeing both you and Charlie entering inside the room. "WTH were they doing here?!" he thought as he rushed over towards them. "Oh excuse me, sorry, sorry." Charlie was bumping into everyone, despite blushing as she still wasn't use to this stuff. Following behind her, you tried to look for Angel, until your eyes spotted him walking towards the both of you. "Charlie!! Y/N!! What the f✪✪✪ are you doing here?!" Charlie smiled up at Angel, saying they wanted to see him and if they could talk with his boss. "Now is not a good time! Come on, get out of here before he sees you!" Warning them to leave, Angel tried to push the both of you back outside.

"Well Well, Angel-cakes! You didn't tell me you brought guests to my fine establishment~." A seductive voice came from behind the three of you. Valentino was making his way over, swaying his hips as he walked. "Why if it isn't the Princess of Hell? Such a pleasure to meet you." Valentino bent down, while grabbing her arm, giving it a lick. "Umm hello (no thank you)" Charlie gave an uncomfortable smile, not enjoying what Valentino did. Feelings of disgust began to build up inside you at his actions. His red piercing eyes then locked on you. "Oh what a beauty! Who might you be, darling~?" Valentino had leaned closer to your face, placing his hands around areas that were a major red flag. "My name is Y/N and I prefer if you would remove your hands from me." Your eyes glowed a neon blue, as you had grabbed his arms and push them back towards himself. His eyes widen at that, and a glare flashed towards you before his signature smirk came back. "Oh feisty~. I like that in a lady." Standing back to his regular height, he moved back a little bit and gazed at the both of you. "Now what are you fine specimens doing in a place like this~?" His crimson eyes were piercing the both of you. Angel had moved to the side, gazing down at the ground. He was petrified in fear, you could see it. "Yes, sorry. I was wondering if we could talk to you about Angel." Charlie chirped up, not reading the mood clearly. Valentino placed his hands on his hips, wondering what they wanted with his number one star. "Angel is staying at the Hazbin Hotel, and we had some rehabilitation activities we wanted to do with him. We understand he works for you, but we wanted to know if it was possible if he was able to get a break for today." Charlie's smile was so angelic. You knew she was being very sincere with what she was saying. Gazing at Valentino, you saw the slight twitch in his smirk as Charlie continued to talk.

"Oh I see~ Let me discuss this with Angel-cakes privately~." Angel grimaced at that statement, as he felt an arm loop around his neck, and moving him towards his dressing room. Charlie looked at the both of them with a frown, sensing something wrong. Your emotions were rising as you knew something was very wrong given how Angel was acting when his boss was near. Pushed into the room, Angel turned back towards Valentino. "Wait Val! I didn't know they were gonna show up her-" Angels words were cut off with a backhand to his face. "You pequeña mierda! What gives you the right to bring those sluts to my club?!" Valentino kicked Angel, sending him flying across the room. "AGH" Angel exclaimed in pain, as he hugged himself, shaking in fear. Valentino marched towards him, glaring down at him. Picking him up off the ground, he slammed Angel against the wall. "Do you not remember who owns you?! I'm the one that controls you. I have your soul, or did you forget that?" Choking him, Angel gasped for breath, as the life was squeezed out of him. Valentino smirked down, extending his head next to Angel's ear. "Those little putas can't save you Angel. Besides that hotel is not your home, this is, here with me~. Now, you are going to tell those little c✪✪✪✪ to leave. Understand~" Angel was trying to pull Val's hands off, crying tremendously.

"ENOUGH!!"

TO BE CONTINUED

Tagging:

@forbidden-sunlight

@pinkcrystal44

@veethewriter

@danveration

@sarahwasbeforeee

@cookiekyo

@iiotic

@delectableworm

@91062854-ka

@lovesomemha

@luujjvi

Part 2 Here

Epilogue Here - Warning Smut

[dropoutfailure]

ok, enough wholesome dadson. time to sexualize terrible fathers. (cw for: dadson incest + FtM son POV + transphobia / misgendering / fetishizing / forcemasc)

transphobic dad: doesn't approve of you transitioning or taking T, but isn't stopping you and doesn't seem turned off by the changes, even after you pass consistently as a man. doesn't know how T even works, always lowkey curious about the changes. he does like that you're so much hornier on T and don't even have periods anymore. tugs at your facial hair (ow? wtf :/) and goes "huh? it's real? I thought you drew it on every morning!" with a hearty laugh. dad joke? he might have actually thought so. backhanded praise, mean jokes at your expense, and moments where he genders you correctly, by accident.

thought you would eventually change your mind and give up transitioning "when you realise that being a man is hard," as if he's not the one making it hard. he might actually think of you as a son at some point, but he was never taught to apologize, he's "always right," he's stubborn, so he will keep calling you a daughter because a father can't show weakness. wants to call you homophobic slurs sooo bad, but that would be admitting defeat.

gets angry when you bring up surgery bc he likes to squeeze your tits and fuck your pussy. won't do any anal because it's gay. and clearly, he's isn't, he says. definitely closeted.

trans boy chaser dad: for better or for worse, only took an interest in your life when he found out you're a trans guy, fixed his relationship with you by treating you more like a date than as his son.

excited, touchy-feely, even creepy. eager to please. just pathetically horny for the way your body's changing from T - he won't misgender you. you get aggressively reaffirmed to the point of it getting annoyingly patronizing actually. regardless, he fucks you hard, encouraging you to moan with your cracking voice, and is too horny to feel bad about the incest. it's a welcome change from the previous emotional distance, but you feel used, like he's taking advantage of your newly high libido.

fixated on your body and everything "clockable," would rather you didn't get any surgery... says you're already perfect as is, from just testosterone... it does feel nice that he takes some sort of pride in having a son now, fully embracing you, the way he finds even all the awkward changes (sparse facial hair, voice cracks etc) not just endearing, not just attractive, but really fucking hot. and it's a relief for your body which craves that release. but. dad might just completely lose interest a few years into T, if you pass consistently.

bisexual, he says. but of course not into cis men.

transmed dad: thinks he knows what's best for your body, forcemascs you in his own ideals, pushing you to work hard to speed up your transition, to become a "real" man. you were so happy that dad accepted you being a trans guy so wholeheartedly and proudly, but the acceptance seems to have turned into overbearing surveillance...

dad insists on doing your T injections himself, because he doesn't trust that you'll actually do them. "no son of mine will be a fucking embarrassing softboy pansy who never transitions for real, have some dignity, god damn it! either you transition fully or you don't transition at all!" ...he pushes you to consider top and bottom surgery asap, to become a "real man," regardless of what you might want. he very excitedly looks forward to the day you can top him with your real cock, like a son should. :)

he makes you like anal because that's how real men do it. you're absolutely not allowed to derive any pleasure from anywhere but your ass and T-dick, and the phantom sensation of a strapon. he's good at working your T-dick though, it's all almost worth it just for that...

love, validation, and praise only when you've "earned it." if you fail to live up to his strict expectations, the things he says fucking hurt. misgenders you as punishment and threatens to withhold your testosterone "since you want to stay a girl so bad."

......

so, all of these options leave you feeling unsatisfied and degraded in one way or another!! yippee! no, there's no option for a Normal About Trans Men And Masculinity Dad, this is the Terrible Fathers dadson poll. you must choose.

[quaintlyfig]

Having thoughts after reading @dimplyowl's posts about Izzy and Ed and their behaviors.

I mean, I've had these thoughts a lot already. I attempted to express some of them shortly after season 2 aired when folks on twitter would rail against Ed's violent behavior toward Izzy at the same time they vehemently insisted that Izzy had never done anything bad ever to Ed. I tried to craft thoughtful responses on posts of people I thought might be interested in having a conversation and open to maybe understanding a different way of understanding Izzy's behavior. I did this maybe about three or four times, and every time I was 100% completely ignored. No "thanks for sharing your thoughts," no "cool story, bro," no "get fucked." Crickets. Zip, nada, zilch.

This show is silly and serious, goofy and deep, sweet and heavy. And I like exploring both sides - being able to float in the fun and being able to plumb the depths. And I'm in this fandom to do both of those things in a safe community - which I experience in abundance each day and am so grateful for! - not to be re-traumatized by people who are gleeful and militant apologists for emotional abuse. I became very well acquainted with the block and mute buttons around this time, happy to curate my experience.

I freely admit that this is a bit of a ramble and that it won't be flawless, but it feels good to organize my thoughts.

Content note before you continue reading: Author's experience with physical and emotional abuse as it relates to their thoughts regarding Izzy Hands' character and people's dismissal of the gravity of emotional abuse. Not gratuitous, but take care of yourself, and do not continue reading if that may cause you harm. And yes, I've been to lots of therapy, for which I am very grateful! 💜

I was raised by season 1 Izzy Hands.

Filled with rage, virulently jealous, and expertly manipulative. Someone who expected me to meet their every need by existing in their fantasy world where they were the ultimate martyr, and I was the ungrateful piece of shit they bent over backwards for. Gaslighting and crazy-making were literally a part of my everyday existence.

Less frequently, this person was also physically abusive, and I feared this abuse even on the occasions it didn't occur.

Both fucked me up plenty, and I won't play the "abuse olympics" and say one was worse than the other. (And I would imagine that there isn't such a thing as "only" physical abuse - the two are intimately tied together.) I will say that in my *own* experience, which is individual to myself and probably the proportions of each type of abuse, I have found the emotional abuse to be absolutely insidious in the ways it molded my understanding of self, relationships, love, affection, communication, sex, worth, sense of free will, responsibility, and more. I am still unraveling these things even over a decade after I cut all contact with this person.

The scene where Izzy confronts Ed, who is cleaning up his cabin and wearing the pink robe, is one that really sticks out to me.

A decent number of the Izzy-apologist takes I read talked about how Izzy didn't do anything wrong when he told Ed he'd be better off dead than as a "namby pamby in a silk dressing gown pining for his boyfriend." That he only serves Blackbeard and that Edward "had better watch his fucking step." These people said that Ed could have basically let that go like water off a duck's back and never become the Kraken.

We are responsible for our own actions *and* abusers know exactly how to push your buttons, get under your skin, take you down at your knees, and to grind your face into the gravel when you're already down. They know exactly where to stick the proverbial knife to do the swiftest, most lethal damage with the fewest words. They know how to make you feel like less than nothing - that you have NO inherent worth outside of what you do and how you serve them - so that you will bend to their will.

This scene shatters my heart every single time. I think Con and Taika both get their characters so right in every syllable and micro-expression during this exchange.

And whether Izzy's manipulation is conscious or unconscious doesn't matter. Just as there are reasons, but no *excuse* for the way Ed hurts people (or that Stede or the Badmintons, etc, hurt people), there is no *excuse* for the way Izzy abuses Ed (or anyone else).

I also heard people saying that Izzy's threats were empty and Ed should have known that. No, there isn't one single thing about Izzy's threats that were empty. He brought the fucking British to the Revenge and tried to have Stede - the man Ed loves - executed before Ed's eyes.

"Are you really going to lick the king's boots" wasn't about Izzy wanting Ed to be free. Ed felt free and happy with Stede when he could be someone softer and 3-dimensional. Izzy wanted Ed to be licking *his* boots in his every choice and behavior, even if Ed was captain in name. Izzy never served "his captain" - he only ever served the Blackbeard of his fantasies. A caricature that left Ed feeling utterly hollow and contemplating "packing it all in" (which didn't mean "retirement" when he said those words).

I simply don't have time anymore for people who wish to live in their own fantasy world where Izzy is a wholly-innocent victim being preyed upon by the Big Bad Kraken. The Kraken may have been born the night Ed killed his dad, so that part of Ed pre-existed Izzy, but Izzy did say in his own dying words that he fed the darkness in Ed and needed it for himself.

I know some people have a hard time seeing Izzy as a father-type figure to Ed, as David Jenkins has said before. But I can see it perfectly clearly. He's living his life through Ed, wanting him to perform exactly as ordered, to be a two-dimensional figure that satisfies his own need to feel important and needed.

One thing I haven't seen discussed as much that I absolutely recognize in Izzy from my own experience with my abuser is his incredible jealousy of anyone else that gets Ed's attention. He does not want anyone else to be close to Ed. He wants to be the gatekeeper to Blackbeard and the only one to call him Edward. He literally tries to have Stede killed because of how jealous he is. He does not want anyone else to love Ed, and he doesn't want Ed to love anyone else. He is so deeply insecure that he cannot share him at all.

If Ed has a real relationship (of any kind, not just romantic - he and Stede start out as instant BFFs), then he is not capable of performing Izzy's version of Blackbeard and pouring all of his energies into serving Izzy's (obviously very unhealthy) emotional needs. It's a zero sum game. Izzy has to have all of Ed, or he's "lost" the game.

Izzy needs to be to needed so badly that he creates in his mind a Blackbeard/Ed who cannot function without him, and he will do whatever it takes to shove Ed back into the box he needs him in in order to keep his own identity secure. Because if Ed doesn't have to be Blackbeard, that means he doesn't need Izzy, and who is Izzy without Blackbeard? He doesn't have a stable self and so *uses* Ed to prop himself up to feel like "somebody." He has built his own identity around the fantasy of Blackbeard.

Just because someone isn't losing toes doesn't mean abuse isn't happening. Emotional abuse is real. Additionally, perpetrators of violence have often been victims themselves. (This isn't even touching on the fact that they're all pirates.) Ed can be both. These things are messy as fuck. But I will say that Izzy's abuse clearly pre-dated Ed's Kraken-era violence against Izzy by years, at least, if not decades.

I'm genuinely not sure what the perceived merit or gain is in pretending otherwise. And just as Ed is ultimately responsible for his own actions, so is Izzy.

I appreciated Izzy's redemption arc, and I cried when he died. And I think it's ok that Izzy died. And Izzy was a very skilled emotional abuser in season 1. All of those things can be true at the same time.

I know there are a thousand other ways to come at this topic and examine it. I didn't even touch the question of apologies or redemption or any of that. Nor am I going to. This was primarily a personal examination of season 1 Izzy Hands' abusive behavior.

--

Image from Our Flag Means Death Frames on twitter

[sleepyfan-blog]

Autopsy

Author’s Note: This is the next part in Cedric’s adventures in the Astartes Husbandry AU, and specifically the Introducing New Primaris Black Templars arc. For other adventures click here and here. First. Previous. Next.  A big thank you to @kit-williams for allowing me to borrow her OC Anrir, and with helping me make sure I wrote Anrir well. 

Tagged:  @egrets-not-regrets @kit-williams @bleedingichorhearts @i-am-a-dragon34

Warnings: autopsy (mention), poor coping skills, physical violence, grief, 

Summary: Cedric and two other Apothecaries in training are putting medical supplies away near where Malachai’s and Lestras’ bodies are being studied. This is fine. He’s fine.

"What... Why would they place that organ there? It makes no sense whatsoever." One of the visiting apothecaries muttered.

"I was told that the mechanicus were in charge of the creation of the Primaris Marines. In the ensuing ten-thousand years after the Heresy, this is what they have come up with." Melinth stated, his voice steady if lilting a little with amusement.

Cedric couldn't quite tell, as their voices were muffled by the wall that separated himself and the two other apothecaries in training from where Lestra’s and Malachai’s bodies were being autopsied. But their voices felt full of mockery and derision to him. He gritted his teeth, continuing to perform the task he had been assigned.

"These organs placements are shit." A third Apothecary spotted "I may still be a traitor in M42, but this... This is utter shit. I can see a glimmer of advancement in the organs themselves... But oh..." He laughed, cruel and vicious.

"Care to share the joke with the rest of us, Anrir?" The first Apothecary prompted, sounding curious.

Cedric willed his hearts to stop pounding in his ears as he tried to breathe out the fury coiling in his chest, ready to strike. He was furious at the fact that one of those callous bastards were laughing at his brothers' bodies.

"It's just... If I informed the Emperor of the advancements that the Mechanicum believes they made to his Astartes' design... His reaction would be hilarious!" Anrir chortled.

Cedric could not take the callous disrespect and mockery that these firstborn bastards were making of his dead brothers. The sound of that fucker’s laughter rang in his head, reminding him of - 

No. He would not allow his mind to wallow in miserable memories that would only make him even more upset. Cedric and two other apprentice Apothecaries had been tasked with restocking this medical supply room as a group. In the past few months, more supplies have been mysteriously vanishing, and one way to try and decrease the possible vanishing supplies problems. He hisses a soft “Bastard!” In response to the continued laughter.

The restless Night Lord Apothecary turned toward him, having clearly heard his words “What was that? I’m pretty sure that box of gauze isn’t an Ork in need of strangling. You can just put it down like a normal person.”

Cedric glared at the Night Lord, a low growl in his voice “Shut up. I can hear them talking about the Brothers they are dissecting.”

The other apothecary in training - a Renegade Space Wolf spoke up “I can hear them too. It sucks that they won’t let any of us even see the bodies to learn the differences between us normal marines and Primaris, but that’s life. ‘Sides, I’ve figured out one difference between Primaris marines and normal marines already.”

“Oh? And what difference would that be?” The Night Lord asked curiously, head titling a little.

“They die like little bitches. LIke, there are what a dozen Primaris marines on ancient terra? And between the two found near this base and the six found dead across Ancient Terra in the past year or so, it doesn’t speak to how well they’re able to survive. Like. It’s really fucking hard to die on Ancient Terra unless you’re doing something stupid.”

… Six other dead Primaris marines? This was the first that Cedric had heard of more dead Primaris marines. Then the rest of the drivel that the Space Wolf had said registered in the Black Templar’s mind. The fury that he’d been struggling to contain boiled over and a red haze filled his vision. 

Cedric blinked once, finding that he’d moved positions from one moment to the next. He had pinned Algret to the floor, his knees on the bastard’s chest, his hands wrapped around the other’s neck as his mouth screamed into the other;s bloodied face and broken nose. Cedric felt his chest heave with the effort of pinning and choking this miserable bastard as his mouth screamed ‘- FUCKING CALLOUS, KIN-KILLING BASTARDS! I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU! I HATE ALL OF YOU! YOU SNEER AND LOOK DOWN ON US! USE US AS CANNON FODDER WHILE SPITTING ON OUR EFFORTS AND CALLING US ABOMINATIONS!” He managed to wrest control of his vocal chords from whatever was screaming through him. His voice was much quieter now but no less furious “See how you like it when you are the one being beaten and tormented over and over again.”

“He-ghk!” Algret called out, struggling futilely beneath him.

Cedric did not see the Night Lord Apothecary, but they were all cowardly ambush predators who fled before a more powerful opponent. His breathing was harsh and fast. HIs hands were still squeezing Algret’s neck hard enough to make breathing difficult for the mouthy bastard. “... You’re not worth the paperwork they’d bury me under to kill you.” With tremendous effort he forced his hands away from the Space Wolf’s neck. He got off of the Space Wolf as well, taking a couple of steps back.

Algret growled back as he heaved himself back up onto his feet, settling into a defensive stance “You want to fight, you unstable piece of shite? You’re on! You’re not going to overcome me nearly so easily, now that I’m aware you’re going to attack me.”

Cedric growled wordlessly, shifting into a defensive stance of his own, about to accept the challenge issued to him.

"And just what do you two think you are doing?" A low and deeply unimpressed voice demanded from the doorway, interrupting the brewing fight.

Cedric swallowed hard, before he turned and saw -

Fuck.

One of the Apothecaries who had been brought in to cut into his dead Brothers, to study the differences between Primaris Marines and Firstborn. He was a Terran-born Night Lord, from the pattern and coloration of his armor.

"I was talking about the dead Primaris Marines, and that it sucked I couldn't get hands-on study of either one of them when this lunatic  attacked me!" Algret whined, glaring at Cedric as he spoke. "He also was screaming about how much he hates firstborn Marines. Whatever the fuck those are."

“... I see.” The Night Lord Apothecary answered, a neutral expression on his face, though it may be a mask. “If firstborn Marines are bad… Surely I am something much worse. After all, I am Terran Born, among part of the first successfully created batches.” He stalked into the room with predatory grace.

Cedric could see the younger Night Lord Apothecary hovering in the hallway outside, but most of his focus was on the laughing bastard in front of him. His phone chirped, and he kept one eye on the advancing Night Lord, as he read through the text that Ramiel sent him. A small, vicious smirk appeared on his face. The other older apothecaries were also in the hallway and could clearly hear him. He rolled his shoulders back and stated “As the highest ranking Black Templar Apothecary within a hundred miles of this base, I am formally revoking your to do anything with the dead bodies of the two Black Templars currently on the surgery tables of this base. I revoke everyone’s privilege to do so, not just yours, Apothecary Anrir.” Cedric paused for a moment, letting this edict sink in before continuing “If any non-Black Templar Apothecary does anything other than stitch their bodies up, it will be a severe violation of the treaty for each of you, with each cut of the scalpel, or adjustment of the retractors. This decision is effective as of now, and will not be overturned. Stitch up their bodies and hand them over to me.”

“YOu gave permission to allow us to autopsy them earlier.” Melinth countered “Additionally, you are merely an Apothecary in training and do not have the ability to order such things to us.”

“I am the highest ranking Black Templar apothecary you can contact easily. If you want to escalate this issue, I will inform the highest ranking Black Templar in residence and you can talk it out with him. The Emperor’s Champion. I will inform him that you are refusing to follow some of the mandates of treaty that has been set forth. I will also inform him that your refusal to release the bodies of both Black Templars, one of whom had been a patient of yours in critical condition, and that he died while in your care.” Cedric growled, stalking towards Melinth. He was keenly aware of what he was unsubtly accusing the other of in public, but he did not care. It was completely within character of Firstborn Marines of M42 to pull shit like this on purpose. Why would they not do the same in M3 if they thought they could get away with it?  “Care that you did not allow me or another Black Templar to monitor while a brother was in such a fragile and vulnerable state. That after you pronounced him dead, while his body was still warm, you demanded I give you permission to cut him apart to satisfy your own curiosity.”

“Are you accusing me of allowing a patient under my care to die to satisfy my own scientific inquisitiveness about how his body worked?” Melinth demanded, actually sounding and looking mildly upset now.

Cedric figured that Melinth was upset most by the potential hit to his reputation Cedric’s accusations may cause, considering the fact that the six visiting Apothecaries were from differing factions and had some influence amongst their chapters/legions. “You’ve said before that you wished that you could take a Primaris Marine’s body apart, to see what the differences are for yourself. It would not surprise me if you… Arranged for that to happen, as you were handed an opportunity to ensure a Primaris Body landed in your morgue.”

“Oh… So the abuse that the both of them suffered is a common thing amongst loyalists in M-42, then. You wouldn’t be accusing another Apothecary of such a crime with such certainty and conviction if you haven’t seen that happen in M42 personally.” Anrir called out, an inscrutable expression on the Night Lord’s face.

His words halted Cedric in his tracks. The emotional impact of his words hit him with the force of an out of control Thunderhawk slamming into the side of a mountain. His gaze switched from Melinth - who was more visibly emotional now (What those emotions might be, Cedric couldn’t begin to guess. Nor was he going to spend the effort to try) - to Anrir. His eyes were burning fiercely and he hated the way he echoed “A… Abuse?” back at the older apothecary. A yawning abyss of horror had opened up within Cedric and had swallowed all of the righteous wrath that had been searing it’s way through his veins.

“Yes. Abuse. The Emperor would be furious about the utter misery that the Mechanicus put you Primaris marines through. You’re some of the most traumatized young marines I’ve ever met. And I’ve worked with Lamenters before. Get over here.” Anrir ordered, his voice going gravelly and commanding - but not in a distressing way, somehow?

Cedric’s idiot, treacherous body obeyed before his mind could halt himself, as he came over to the Night Lord’s side. He stares down at the shorter marine, just barely able to resist the temptation to shuffle backwards and cross his arms defensively over his chest. “What do you want?” Cedric snapped, eyes narrowing.

“I’m going to hug you now. Do not resist, you need one.” Anrir answered, closing the distance between the two of them and wrapping his arms around Cedric, holding him in a moderately restraining embrace. 

Half of Cedric wanted to melt into the embrace and start bawling. The rest of him protested very loudly at such a show of weakness in front of strange firstborn marines, so an angry response it was. He hisses down at the older marine, leaning away from him “How dare you just grab me like this?! Let me go at once you… You-” now was not the time to lose his words, but here he was. Unable to come up with something to say.

Also, Cedric could feel his body start to shake and tremble at the continued gentle touch. His eyes were stinging more fiercely now and he needed to escape if he was to not be seen or heard crying by these fuckwits. He blinked rapidly before the first treacherous tear started to fall, followed by more. SInce the stupid bastard wasn’t letting go, Cedric hid his face in one of the other’s shoulders, his body’s shaking getting worse.

Anrir heaved a dramatic sigh as he hugged Cedric closer, one hand coming up to gently pat his head “Honestly! You’re just as bad as Claude is. I wasn’t laughing at your dead brothers, by the way. I was laughing at the fury that the Emperor would unleash on those machine-worshippers if he learned of what he’s done to all of you. The organ placement within the two Primaris Marines would very likely have shortened their life-spans significantly, had the physical abuse that killed them not taken them then.”

There was one piece of information that was most important to Cedric. The lifespans thing wasn’t something he could deal with, but - “You… You know Claude? You’ve… You’ve seen him cry?” If Claude felt safe enough to cry around Apothecary Anrir… Then Cedric would choose to trust that his brother-cousin was willing to trust Anrir.

The Night Lord sighed again, patting his head once more, still giving him a one-armed hug “Yes, I know Claude.”

“Oh… You must be one of the older brothers he trusts, then.” Claude was one of the most emotionally reserved of all of them for reasons that Cedric was not going to think about right now, as he was trying to calm down. He wiped the tears in his eyes and tried that breathing trick that Miss Angela taught him… Which was startlingly effective. He lets go of the Night Lord, shame burning through him as he took a step away from the other. “I… Thank you, for helping me calm down.”

Anrir hummed a little in response “You scouts have been deeply traumatized. Emotional dysregulation is very common.” He turned and  glared at his fellow experienced Apothecaries “Is there a particular reason why you are gawking? The Scout told you he doesn’t want us messing about in the insides of his dead brothers, which I feel is more than reasonable.”

The other apothecaries grumbled, but all of them left the hallway, except for Melinth, who stared at Cedric for several long seconds before slowly turning and leaving.

Anrir left a moment or two after Melinth did, and called out to the others “Between the seven of us, and what we were able to study, we have plenty of notes. Besides, you all saw the muscle cording. The mechanicus succeeded in making the Primaris marines physically stronger. The young one was gracious enough to allow us some time to study a couple of his dead brothers. He could have refused us entirely.”

Melinth groused back “You weren’t the one who got accused of letting a patient die on your table on purpose, Anrir.”

“I suspect that is the grief doing the speaking for him, rather than good sense. Besides, wouldn’t you be a little suspicious, were your position and his reversed? Especially as it is abundantly clear - at least to me - that none of the Primaris Marines have been treated very well by their older brothers in M-42. His wariness and caution is understandable if likely unneeded in this time. Such behaviors are difficult to unlearn.” Anrir countered. 

Cedric pointedly did not look at either of the two firstborn Apothecaries in training as he completed the task that he had been assigned. He did pause part way through putting away the medical supplies to send Ramiel a message, asking him to start gathering what he needed to properly send off Malachai and Lestra… He also planned on speaking with a certain Word Bearer to see if he was willing to let them borrow a hallowed space for the funerals.

… He should also probably talk to Arnualt and Roland as well to see if they wanted to attend the funerals as well. A sigh left Cedric as he placed the vinyl box of gauze on its assigned shelf before leaving the medical stockroom, locking the door behind him as both Belek and Algrets had already left the room. 

[wri0thesley]

Who do you think are the Yans to hurt you deliberately? That feel breaking a bone, letting you starve, are all good ways to teach you how to behave.

The ones that accidentally hurt you? Who gets so frustrated with you that they just snap, lashing out before they can think it through? The guilt afterwards making them double down or just smother you in affection.

And who are the ones who'd hurt themselves before they even think of hurting you??

well, let me get out of the way the ones who would do their best to never ever hurt you and would be absolutely consumed by guilt if they did so, who do not think physical violence is ever the way to treat someone they love (though naturally stalking and captivity are both reasonable): thoma, kaveh, kazuha.

the ones who get frustrated and lash out and feel guilty about it: itto, xiao, gorou.

the ones who are willing to hurt you, but do not want to have to. these ones love and care about you and they get no joy in outright hurting you, but they understand that sometimes it's easiest for you to understand with just a little violence: diluc, zhongli, heizou, venti, tighnari, cyno.

the ones who are willing to hurt you and rather enjoy doing it, too: albedo, ayato, childe, kaeya (though kaeya is the most likely to coddle and treat you sweetly afterwards, pinch your cheeks and tell you it was your own fault).

[ickyd0ll]

I LOVE YOU AS A FIST LOVES THE BROKEN RIB, AS THE LUNGS LOVE THE CHASE, AS THE FINGER AND THE NAIL LOVE THE GOUGE AND TEAR. I LOVE YOU AS THE TEETH LOVE THE TENDON, AND THE TENDON THE BRUISE, I LOVE YOU AS ADRENALINE LOVES THE POUNDING IN YOUR EARS.

[needleanddead]

okay but like she's a ten but she says she wants to cut off your fingers because they're crooked n replace them ..

well, in all fairness, she promises you’ll end up with very nice hands when all is said and done! they’ll look so much better. she’ll be able to make sure you get to have pretty rings and pretty nails on at all times, they’ll look lovely neatly folded in your lap, and if you don’t quite have the same range of movement you once did - well, it will help ensure you don’t mess up her meticulously tied ribbons and bows or your carefully styled hair or her just-so arrangement of everything - and, naturally, will dissuade you from attempted escape.

she’s not a monster. you’ll at least get some anaesthetic and pain relief before she breaks every single one of your fingers to replace them! and if the bones are good enough, maybe she’ll only need to reset them and you’ll get to keep the original ones—!

[how-good-day]

oh yeah, he took the gun

( TW gore and blood, especially on the last page. you have been warned)

[transspeciesguy]

I experienced a "my autism put me in actual danger" today.

I have a very active vocal stim at the moment, which is me doing the meowing version of What Was I Made For by Billie Eilish. I do it a lot, sometimes loud sometimes quiet, I like the way it sounds and it's very calming for me.

While doing this stim, someone in my class told me it was annoying, but I thought he was joking because he often makes deprecating and mean jokes to people. The next thing I know, he had climbed into the tables and hit me in the face.

For meowing a Billie Eilish song.

I had no way of seeing it coming. He did not say "stop I'm being serious." He hit me after only one time of asking me to stop.

OP uses it/it's pronouns only Please keep discourse away from this post