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cinnamonest · 4 years ago

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Zhongli (Genshin Impact) - Yandere Profile

This man's voice has a POWER over me I SWEAR

tws: yandere, mentions of n/sfw

tws (under the cut): very ddlg-esque vibes, sorta? infantilization, noncon

I'm sorry I get such strong daddy vibes it unintentionally went in this direction, hope that isn't too bad lmao

I’m working on all the prompts I’ve gotten in! I’ve gotten a few so I’ll be working on those.

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What are they generally like? Lucid, aware? Obsessive? How do they behave?

He's one that might be likely to misunderstand his feelings at first, think that he sees himself as a mentor or maybe even an authority figure, someone to guide you and teach you and serve as a dependable partner to your travels. As time goes on, and he begins to recognize how utterly flustered he gets around you, he's forced to acknowledge the actual feelings he has.

While some yanderes with a slight aloofness or pride to them get worse when in love, such as Childe or Kaeya, his drops completely. You bring out a softer side of him, really, one that's protective and tender and loving, so very loving, wanting to be around you, with you. He's certainly an obsessive, protective type, ultimately allowing his protective nature to get the better of him as he demands to know everything you've done, account for your location at every moment, constantly keep track of your habits, inquire about very personal details of your life. If he realizes you're bothered by it, he might draw back a bit, but he's convinced that that's just your perception, that it's necessary, truly, and not at all unusual.

Pet names. Particularly fond of love, darling, and angel. Sweet things that represent what you mean to him -- something precious, something to represent his adoration and idolization.

The primary form of delusion comes from a perception of you. He's obsessive, and idolizes you to an extent. He perceives you as pure, innocent, angelic. The thing is, this applies regardless of whether or not you actually are. If you are, it will solidify the idea, but even if you're not, he will find a way to see you so, anyway. No matter how wise you are, no, you're naive. No matter how capable you are, no, you're weak and fragile. No matter how experienced you may be, no, you're pure. He can always keep this delusion running by bringing into account age and comparison - you'll never be as strong as him, so you might as well be frail and weak. You'll never have lived as long as him, so really, do you think there's that much difference between you and a child, when compared to someone like himself?

How likely are they to kidnap their darling? How quickly will they do so?

Actually highly likely, and pretty quickly. As he observes you, it becomes very clear to him how very fragile you are, how naive you are, you are quite literally too pure, too angelic, to be living in this world with such beings as humans. Fragile, beautiful little things have a place where they belong - protected. Where do we put fragile, beautiful things? We put them behind glass, behind ropes, in pretty cages, in secluded rooms. It's only natural that you, too, need a similar environment.

He's one of the ones that will... Elegantly kidnap you, as odd as it sounds. He's not a brute that would do something horrendous like knocking you out or drugging you, no, he'll find an excuse for you to come to his abode, invite you in, and you'll walk in none the wiser. Only after your in, and the doors close, does he guide you to your new room, calmly explaining that he's come to the realization that you're too fragile to continue your journey, and ought to simply give up on your travels. He knows you'll be upset at first. Like a child being denied, you'll get pouty, moody, you might cry, you might lash out at him. It's predictable. He'll dry your eyes and calm you down, brushing off any harsh words you may have, holding your wrists in his hands when you try to push him away, softly reassuring you that it will all be alright, that you're safe now, and you'll learn to accept this with time.

How difficult is it to escape from them? How do they keep you restrained? How do they deal with attempted escape?

He would want something... elaborate. He's a man with taste for the most beautiful of things, including yourself, and he won't settle for something as simple as a chain or ropes. No, that would be too simple and brutish, and you, one of the finest things in his life, deserve something equally beautiful and delicate.

He's one of the ones that would go to a great deal of preparation for your arrival. He'd have a room prepared just for you, very ornate, beautifully tailored to you -- the walls your favorite color, the bed made of the same material as your old one, and the whole room completely filled with things you're certain you never even told him you liked. Clothes that fit perfectly to your body. It's frightening how perfect it is, because you know he had to go out of his way to acquire the information to achieve such perfection, but you have no idea how.

Everything about it elegant and detailed, right down to the series of ornate locks on the door. They're some of the sturdiest available, made with essentially unbreakable metal alloys and the most intricate lock systems to date. The windows don't open, and he'd certainly find some way to ensure escape through them isn't an option -- perhaps metal bars, perhaps an unbreakable glass substitute, perhaps merely locating your new home right on the edge of one of Liyue's most beautiful mountains, so that if you were to go out the window you'd plummet to the earth below. He's a bit delusional, but he's not stupid, and he will think through every possibility. Every little detail he needs to keep you safe and confined.

He's certain that, perfect as it is, this room is all you will ever need to be happy. Should you desire anything else, he can bring it to you. You'll never have to leave.

So it goes without saying that it would be exceptionally difficult to escape him. You'd have to find a way through the locks, for which your best bet would be to get some hair pins or tiny writing utensils. Even if you managed it, though, which would frankly be a very difficult feat, you'll have to deal with staying free. Zhongli has ties to the people of Liyue as a whole, and needless to say, he has eyes everywhere. You can't risk appearing in the harbor area, there will be far too many people who would immediately report you, and you'd just be walking right to him anyhow. The surrounding areas also have ties to him, so you'd want to try and reach Mondstadt, as far as it is, which is a difficult travel by foot all alone. You won't get far. He's faster, he's wiser, and he will find you long before you could ever hope to make it there.

However, he's not quite as angry as some yanderes would be about it. He doesn't take your escape personally, no, he blames himself, only calculating his own mistakes as to how it happened. He sees you as something like... a little runaway pet, so naive and dull that you don't know any better than to go wandering off. Or perhaps like a child, just sheepishly curious and wanting to explore, not knowing the dangers of the world. Or, perhaps...

"I haven't been giving you enough attention, have I? That's why you pulled this little act of rebellion... you're hurt by my negligence and wanted to be reassured of my care for you. I'm so sorry... I understand now, love. This was my fault. I've been so caught up with work... I'll delegate some tasks to my workers, and I'll be able to spend more time with you from now on, alright? Don't worry, I'm not angry, I'll take full responsibility. I'll be sure to make it up to you... now, let's go home."

How easy are they to trick, deceive, or manipulate?

Much like Childe or Venti or anyone who has been around as long as he has, you really don't stand a chance. He's an incredibly perceptive man. There's not much to say on the matter, as any attempts will be quickly shut down.

He'd find it amusing, really. Like a child trying to lie, but the evidence is all over their face and hands - it's that obvious to him. It's cute enough that he almost hates having to discipline you for it, but, you have to learn.

How lenient are they? What privileges can you have, and what will you be denied?

He wants his little angel to be safe - and unfortunately, you, being so naive and empty headed, don't always know what's best for you. He knows rules can be hard to follow perfectly, but they're there to keep you safe.

Extremely strict, will want to monitor every moment of your life, every little movement you take, and will insist on watching over you in every task. He'll pick out everything you wear, everything you eat.

Occasionally, if you ask very sweetly, he may take you out for walks in Liyue. Honestly, he'd be lying if he said he didn't enjoy taking you to what he knows are the finest locations, shops with the highest level of craftsmanship, restaurants with a high price tag and reputable food. He enjoys showing off his refined tastes and discerning selective abilities. And honestly? There's a certain... Powerful feeling to knowing you're made aware of the costs when he makes high purchases in front of you... even if you don't realize he's not always actually the one paying for it, or that he forgot mora again but promises the owner to pay later - but he'll make sure you don't know that. You hear the numbers, and your eyebrows raise, your eyes widen. You'd nearly faint if that total was on your responsibility, and he knows that. Which is why he'll simply smile at you, and tell you you're worth every last Mora. He'll buy you nearly anything you may desire. It seems like leniency, but in reality, it's his subtle way of locking control and dependency over you, making you respect him, making you love him.

"Don't worry, love. It's not a lot... Not to me, at least. Even if it were, my angel only deserves the best, no?"

What kind of rules do they have? What kind of punishment would they use?

Oh dear. Again, he's very strict, and wants to monitor everything you do, every little aspect of your life. He decides what you eat, portioning your meals to make sure you're eating enough, he worries about you going hungry during your travels, but luckily you'll never have to worry about that again. If you have a sweet tooth, he'll sigh and worry about your teeth and health, but he'll make sure to account for a little bit of sugar in your day, and will even pick up little treats from some of the most reputable places in Liyue.

He picks out clothes for you with each day. They're not... Normal clothes, per se. Certainly not what you'd normally wear on your travels. And it's not like anyone will see you except him - which is exactly why you'll have clothes he would never want anyone else to see you in. Frilly, lacey things, somehow both highly sexualized but also incredibly infantile, soft pinks, baby blues, gentle off-whites. They accentuate the curves of your body so perfectly, while just barely letting him see the parts of you normally kept hidden.

You'll have a schedule - a bath time, a bedtime, a wake-up time. He's weak to your requests, though, and may let you stay up a little late every now and then, or sleep in just a bit, if you make that soft pouting face and beg. He'll insist on bathing you, dressing you, so that you don't have to - and can't even if you wanted to - lift a finger even to wash yourself or put your clothes on.

He has a set of rules for you, very simple ones he hopes you can easily follow. No trying to leave. No doing anything dangerous. No talking to strangers when you go out. You must hold his hand whenever you're walking together, don't go wandering off.

He'll feel ashamed of the thought for a while, but eventually he'll cave and give into the desire, no, the security precaution, of a nice little collar for you. It's not too embarrassing, no, he went out of his way to find one that was delicate, almost like a necklace, made with fine materials, the engraving only visible up close. If you look closely, though, it clearly bears his name.

Breaking the rules is expected, he anticipates it. You're not the brightest, he might even view it as a mistake. A benefit is that you can easily pass it off as simply forgotten, or an accident. Hence, he's not too harsh - normally. He'll sigh, forgive you, and pat your head, contemplating how to prevent your access in the future.

Perhaps you wriggled out of his hand and ran off while walking? You were just excited, distracted, like a child. He might be able to procure a small leash, one that wouldn't be immediately obvious or embarrassing, to attach to your collar. Perhaps some cuff-like links to latch your arm to his.

You forgot the rule about not handling the kitchen knives and cut yourself? He'll have to get some kind of lock and simply keep them safely away from you. No big deal. Any measures are worth your safety.

If you push the limits, or have a defiant attitude, he might reach the point of punishment. As for not-unwholesome things, this would usually include taking away privileges, such as walks or sweets, but overall, punishment will mostly come in more impure forms.

How do they deal with rivals, or perceived rivals? Will they get rid of them? Will they kill them themselves, or find another way?

Not too much to say here - he has connections. He doesn't need to dirty his own hands. For all his supposed humility, if he truly dislikes someone, they're no more significant than an insect to him. He has no reservations about ridding the world of people who, in his mind, are obviously trying to deceive you, abuse you, corrupt you.

Thankfully, he is very capable of keeping a neutral face, even when he feels laughter building up. It would probably look strange if he were smiling over the newest body to come into his parlor.

How easy is it to make them mad? What does their anger look like?

It's a slow buildup. He views restraint as a virtue, and looks down upon those who lack control over their own tempers. He's a man who strives to meet his own standards of character, and that very much applies to self control and ability to maintain a controlled demeanor, even when he feels a bit of frustration due to you being intentionally and deliberately defiant.

It's his responsibility to be a good role model for you and make sure you understand how to behave. However, in the end, he's very keen on properness and rules. If you have a tendency towards brattiness and pushing your limits, you may drive him to a boiling point.

However, even when expressing his anger, he's remarkably controlled. It's very mature, really. Nonetheless, he will have you shivering and tearful with his voice alone, booming with that depth that reverberates off the walls, that vibrates against your very core. His true anger is one that can strike fear even in the most courageous individuals - he's terrifying when he wants to be, fierce and intimidating, a sort of power just eminates from him.

Nonetheless, it's quick, he calms down very quickly, wipes the tears from your eyes, and sighs.

"I do hate having to be firm with you... but I can't have you thinking you can just act however you want. You understand that, don't you?"

So they see you as above them, beneath them, or equal to them?

Both? It's difficult to describe. You're an angel to him. You're the finest work of art, the most intricate creation, the kind of person whose body and likeness deserves to be preserved in art and tradition, one of those women who should be renowned for beauty even centuries long after you're gone from the earth. It's almost goddess-like. At the same time, there's a beautiful, tragic duality to your essence, he thinks. A fragility and a dependency that leaves you in need, but an inherent status of perfection that makes you deserve the utmost perfect of care. You need to be coddled, cared for, protected, but you deserve it. Like a deity incarnated into a mere fragile human form, a queen that needs support to retain her grace.

Unlike some, he doesn't view his care and protection as some kind of favor that should be repaid with your gratitude, no, really, he is grateful that he is the one who is even deserving of being your caretaker, your provider, your lover.

Even if he is the one who determined that he deserves that role.

How determined are they for you to love them? How hard will they try to make it happen? Or are they content just having you?

He's convinced that he can show you that he is your protector, your lover, that it's fate itself that has locked you together, not just his own will.

And he is, above all else, patient. One of the most patient you could encounter. You think a year is a long time? It's nothing to him. A century for you? More than a lifetime. For him? Nothing. He can and will wait, as long as it takes, and he will never falter in his continual care. He'll remind you frequently, he'll shower you in affection, but if you don't return it? It's not that bad. He has all the time in the world to fix you.

Bonus: Is there anything that makes them unique, in comparison to other yanderes?

Moraless Sugar daddy

But in all seriousness, he is definitely of the gift-giving love language. He sees beautiful things, and beautiful things make him think of you! It's sweet, he thinks. So many little things he sees throughout his day make him think of you, and he has to have all of them, see your face when he gives them to you. He likes making you happy, for one, but he'd be lying if he said there wasn't a sort of satisfactory pride he gets from the power dynamic of it all. He wants to be the sole source of provision in your life, he wants your dependency.

If we're talking prior to the events of the game, it will be even more extreme. He treats it like it's truly nothing, throwing around massive purchases, seemingly as if he's not thinking about it at all. But he is - rest assured, he's taking it into consideration, at least, that is, how it will affect your attitude and perception of him.

General perverseness: how sexual of a person are they? What’s their drive like? How touchy do they get? Do they have any reservations about sexuality?

On the reserved side. He'd never conduct himself improperly in public, of course. It's out of the question. He cares about proper behavior and public image, and he'd never behave in a vulgar manner.

Even in private, he's certainly one of the ones that struggles with a certain guilt. To some degree, he would feel like you're so innocent and pure that he doesn't want to corrupt you. He goes through stages. First, he'll lie to himself, telling himself that the feelings he has for you are simply protective, platonic, a natural sense of responsibility for you. That becomes more and more difficult to convince himself of, the more excited he becomes around you, the more he finds his eyes drawn to whatever bits of skin are exposed on your body, finding himself drifting off to impure thoughts, trying to push them away.

Second, once he's forced to acknowledge the true nature of these feelings, he'll simply practice restraint, something he's rather good at in this area. He tries, he really does. He tells himself he can't do something so impure, that it would violate you, that he should be ashamed of himself for it. It becomes more and more and more difficult to restrain himself with time, the feelings rising and the thoughts become more difficult to push away, eventually entertaining the fantasies in his head in an attempt to rid himself of the urge in real life. It doesn't work, no, it only makes the urges worse, and he can't be around you without his body nearly commanding him to do something. And finally, he'll take a different stance entirely, telling himself that, no, it's not going to corrupt you, rather, it's taking care of you. If he really wants to love you, really wants to care for all of your needs, then surely that would include your physical needs, and therefore, really, it would be wrong of him not to help you.

As that shift in viewpoints goes on, he'll become more and more bold, hands lingering just a little longer, face coming just a little closer. It's a slow build of tension, just waiting to boil over.

How forceful are they? Do they care about your willingness?

He understands you're nervous. Again, no matter how experienced you are, somehow in his head he makes it out to be insignificant. Even if you've had other relationships, he convinces himself - and tries to convince you - that they were inadequate, they didn't care about you, not like he does. And he'll treat it as that -- any resistance you put up is nervousness, nothing more, nothing less. He'll reassure you a million times that you won't feel pain, that he'll be gentle, that you'll feel good, even if his size and strength frankly is rather intimidating regardless of experience. He'll keep cooing in your ear, softly whispering reassurance, softly running hands over your skin, holding you in place as the last inch stretches you apart.

What sort of kinks or fetishes do they have, or would they fill?

Infantilization

Again, no matter how smart, experienced, and capable you may be, you're none of those things to him. You're a fragile, little thing. He has to take care of you at all times. It may not be evident at first, and he himself likely doesn't fully realize it, but there is something highly sexual to this for him. Caring for you puts him in a position of dominance, control. It gives him access to your privacy, dressing you up, fingers running over your skin, bathing you, watching your skin glisten. He'll talk to you in this way, too, often softly, remarking every little way in which you need him, and even condescendingly so. He wants you to be his, not only in a sense of love, but of possession.

Oral

Primarily giving. Even on its own, he loves the taste, but the effect it has on you makes it that much better. He loves anything that forces you to depend on him entirely for pleasure, that puts you at his mercy. And he'll be torturous about it too, restraining your arms and legs so you can't control anything, hold your hips down so you can't roll into him, so that only he can determine exactly how much pressure and speed you get. And he won't rush it, no, he'll go so slowly it's torturous, and telling you very simply that if you want any more, you'll have to beg.

Edging

For a variety of reasons. The power trip is as exhilarating as it is pleasurable, but he also loves watching your body writhe. Each little muscle that moves under the flesh when your arms strain against his hand holding your wrists together, the convulsing of your stomach muscles, the way your toes curl and legs spasm and the sweet little whimpers you make when he draws back just short of your high. He's mastered watching your reactions, knowing exactly when to stop, even if you try to mask it. He'll want you to tell him, though, nonetheless, tell him when you're close, if for nothing else but the sense of you obeying his commands.

Collaring

Similarly to infantilization, it gives him something of a sense of control, of possession. He loves seeing his name engraved on it, marking the whole of your being with his ownership. In his somewhat rare moments of roughness, he'll want to pull on it, use it to draw you towards him, in a moment of your defiance, in particular. If you're being mouthy, whiny, disobedient, and you finally make him snap, especially if you try to walk away from him, he'll yank you back with force, pulling you close to him, and when the force of it shuts you up, changes your demeanor, forces you to acknowledge your submission - the satisfaction he'll get from that is incomparable.

How do they feel about pregnancy or babies? Do they want them?

As much as he likes the idea, to him, you're already like a child, naive and fragile. Could your body even handle a pregnancy, a birth? He'd likely try to avoid it, but in the end, if it happened by accident anyway, rest assured you'd be getting the best care of any woman to ever be pregnant in Teyvat, and he'd do everything in his power to ensure you were always comfortable, taking his caretaking to another level, almost never even letting you get up, insisting you stay still and calm and needy.

What kind of (nsfw) punishments would they use?

He'd be one to pull the "it doesn't hurt you as much as it does me" line, but really, even if he refuses to admit it to his own self, having you bent over his lap is just as much for his own enjoyment as it is a disciplinary measure. It's more humiliating than it is painful -- he'd hold back, afraid of hurting you with his strength, but taking in every little flinch and whimper you make as he brings his hand down on your ass, keeping your head pressed down, kneading at the flesh. He'd insist it's the most effective punishment measure, but you can feel the hard-on digging into your stomach. The worse the behavior, the worse the beating, but every time, after it's over, he'll hold you upright, wiping the tears from your eyes and asking you if you learned you lesson, if you intend to do it again, and smiling when you insist you won't.

What body parts of their darling do they like the most?

Your skin. It's beautiful, and he loves the way that light from the moon and sun look on your naked form. He loves the way your skin feels, soft and delicate, smooth, so paper thin and fragile, and so, so deliciously prone to showing marks from the slightest of harm - a simple smack can make the plump flesh darkened and reddened, the lightest suckling will leave beautiful hickeys all down your neck and chest. There are so many ways to mark his property, to stake a visible claim all over you, it's irresistible.

He also will go out of his way, when picking out all the things he wants you to wear, to find colors that best go with your skin tone, in a contrasting sense - particularly lacey, sheer things that contrast very well, so he can see your soft flesh perfectly defined against the little lace patterns.

#yandere x reader #yandere genshin impact #yandere zhongli #tw: noncon #tw: dark content

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another-whump-sideblog · 3 years ago

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Jane’s Pets Pt. 28: What Could Go Wrong?

TWs in the tags

Masterlist

“Mayday, mayday!” | Cave in | Rusty nail

Police sirens wail, and the entire house is lit up in red and blue. It’s possible I underestimated Bunny a little bit.

In my defense, he’s usually extremely stupid. And even this plan has quite a few glaring holes. But it’s still much more than I expected of him.

“Go to your rooms.” I tell Puppy and Kitty. Neither of them even hesitate. They know law enforcement can’t help them.

They don’t even knock, they just break down the door. Is that legal here? God, it’s so hard to remember which places have which laws.

I slip into my void. I’ll just kill them all. Trying to convince them there’s nothing going wrong here could be fun too, but I don’t want to be distracted when Bunny’s 24 hours run out. I’ll need to get right to searching. Besides, knowing how many people ended up dying will make a good punishment for Bunny.

—

A rusty nail. That’s what killed him. A rusty nail.

Asim had survived so much. That’s why I befriended him, I was sure I would get at least a few decades with him. And then he died, and it was just a rusty nail.

Why are mortals so fragile? Why do I have to lose everyone I care about? Why couldn’t I just have a few decades without grieving? It’s so hard to make myself care about people when they could die at any moment from something as small as a rusty nail.

He was going to die anyway. Like all mortals do. I shouldn’t have gotten attached. I shouldn’t have let a mortal have so much influence over me. I won’t let it happen again.

I’m afraid I’m going down a dark path. But… I’m a good person. What’s the worst that could happen?

—

Dozens of bodies lie on the ground. There’s blood on the floor and the walls. My clothes are coated with blood and have a few bullet holes.

There are some bullets stuck in my body. I’ll have to dig those out later. I hate it when that happens…

I teleport into Kitty’s room. “We’re moving. Grab anything you’ll want for the car ride and go stand outside. Tell Puppy to do the same.” Kitty’s eyes are wide and terrified. Good. They needed a reminder of what I can do. Maybe they’ll be less of a brat for a while.

I quickly change out of my ruined clothes.

—

Who needs mortals when there are caves?

I can teleport, but where’s the fun in that? It would be cheating, to just teleport as deep as I can go. I squeeze through tight spots and swim for miles in order to get deeper and deeper.

There’s never anyone else down here. I don’t know if mortals could even get this far down. They need so much shit to maintain their bodies and there’s not enough room for backpacks and safety gear. This place is entirely mine.

It’s so dark down here. I love it. It feels safe. It feels like my void, but I can still touch things in the caves.

The caves are quiet in a way nowhere else is. The caves are solid and permanent in a way that nothing else is.

The animals down here are super weird. That’s another way in which this place is only mine. No mortals know about these creatures. The caves are my home.

One day, the ground shakes and rocks fall. The cave collapses on top of me, crushing me in a way that would instantly kill any mortal. I’m jealous. My skull caves in.

There are plenty of other caves. But I realized, lying there, that caves aren’t any more permanent than humans. They will change and die and grow while I stay the same.

It takes a while to get up the motivation to teleport away.

—

Kitty and Puppy wait outside. Puppy holds all six of her stuffed animals in her arms, and Kitty has a couple water bottles and snacks. What good pets they are.

“Back up.” I tell them. I gesture for them to keep moving until their far enough away.

I place my palm against a wall of the house, and teleport the whole thing into my void, including everything still inside. It leaves a huge hole in the ground, which I immediately teleport away from. Kitty drops everything they were holding.

My eyelids feel a bit heavier. It’s been so long since I was last tired! I should teleport big things more often.

I reach into my void and pull out a car I left in it long time ago.

“Road trip! We don’t want to get pulled over because it looks like a twelve year old is driving, so you’re driving, Puppy. Everyone get in.”

Puppy buckles her stuffed animals into the back of the car before getting in the driver’s seat. I sit next to her, and Kitty sits behind me.

“Where I can see you, Kitty.”

Kitty sighs and moves to the seat behind Puppy. I put the address into the GPS.

“Alright! We’ve got 10 more hours before I can go look for Bunny. Let’s see if we can get the house set up somewhere else by then.”

—

“Mayday Mayday Mayday!” I give them the name of the station and the aircraft identification of a random plane. “Engine failure! It’s rainy! I’m trying to land safely!” I list out the other information I’m supposed to give.

I’ve developed a reputation with Air Traffic Control. They’ve been getting a lot of false alarms lately. They’ve finally figured out that the alarms aren’t coming from pilots pulling pranks, but they’re not tech savvy enough to find me or stop me from calling in. They simply can’t compete against someone who’s been there since this technology was first invented and has been learning it ever since.

I wonder if they’ll stop responding to my voice, soon. If they do, I’ll crash a plane just to keep them on their toes.

Befriending mortals is painful, but fucking with them? It’s extremely fun.

A/N: Let me know if I should tag anything else! Does this read as Jane’s perspective cut up by flashbacks, or as a confusing mess? Let me know!

Tag list: @eatyourdamnpears @ghostsinthecloset

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amintyworld · 4 years ago

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The Pig Led to Slaughter - Drabble for Griffin's Blog (Part One)

A/N: Hey guys so @griffintail does ask collabs with Lemon Anon on their blog. Their latest story (collab 6) didn't have enough angst so I decided to make some. This is the result. You should check out their collab for context since it is an AU of sorts. Don't want to? Here's the summary: Pirate Captain Dad! Technoblade with SBI+Fundy, Y/N Style. Hold on to your bootstraps, we're just getting started. >:) - Minty

TW: Suspicion, mention of murder, lying, mention of getting arrested, cursing. (Let me know if I need to tag anything else!)

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It was early in the morning, the sun just peeking over the town’s buildings, that a loud knock awoke the blonde light-sleeper. Startled, he’d nearly fallen out of his own bed, muttering a few curses to himself. Untangling himself from the sheets, he stumbled out of his room. Three more knocks sounded from the door. Briefly, he was relieved seeing Y/N curled up in her bed with Tommy, fast asleep. At the very least, they didn’t get woken up.

Another three knocks - what could possibly be so urgent at this hour?

“I’m coming, I’m coming…” He grumbled as he descended the stairs, moving across the house toward the front door. Pulling the robe a bit more over himself, he begrudgingly opened the door. Still gaining his bearings from being abruptly awoken, it took the older man a minute or two for his brain to process the royal blue uniforms.

Navy. Shit.

Well, if he wasn’t awake before, that fact certainly slapped the older man into reality. Two officers, swords at their hips, looked at him sternly, almost as if they were sizing up how much of a threat he was. “Good morning, officers. How may I help you?”

“Sorry to disturb you at this hour, Mr. Craft. There was a recent attack at sea…” The Naval Officer’s gaze slightly peers beside Phil into the house, almost as if looking for something. “Could we ask you a few questions?”

Despite how uncomfortable these two made him feel, Phil knew he couldn’t exactly turn them away. If he did, they’d just come back with more officers and take him to jail. No, he couldn’t risk it - he had Y/N to think about now. Technoblade trusted him with looking out for his daughter. It’s not as if he could simply pick up and move like he used to. Besides, they couldn’t have figured out any incriminating details about him… could they? He willed himself to calm as he opened up the door further. “Of course, come in gentlemen.”

The two soldiers scanned the room, moving through it, looking at every detail. Phil gained a little confidence as he slowly realized something - they don’t even know what they’re looking for. They're being too obvious about it, they wanted him to give them hints, reactions, anything. But sadly for them, he was smarter than that. A small smile appeared on his face as he moved to light a candle.

“I’m sorry for the state of things, I wasn’t exactly expecting company.”

“No worries sir.” An officer dismissed with a small smile as Phil turned around, candle holder in hand. Phil moved over toward the couch, placing the candle holder on the table for a bit of light in the dark room.

“We can talk over here - can I offer either of you anything to drink? Coffee, tea...?”

The other Naval Officer, who was previously looking at the mirror with a vase of flowers in front of it in the doorway, spoke: “We’re fine. It’ll only take a few moments of your time, at most.”

“Of course.” Phil agreed, settling on one end of the couch. “You said there was an attack?”

The more friendly officer agreed. “Yes, a few days ago last I heard. A band of pirates attacked a cargo ship carrying the Kingdom’s trade. The captain hasn’t been much of a threat before, but since it was the property of the crown the King wants him captured. His name was Technoblade, I believe?”

“Technoblade…” Phil murmured to himself, acting confused. “What a strange name indeed.”

“He’s known to frequent this town for supplies, a few sources say you’ve interacted?”

“Well, I’m quite the merchant myself, I’m not entirely surprised - Though I can’t confirm for sure.”

“How so, Mr. Craft?”

Phil nervously laughed. “I’m afraid to tell you, gentlemen, that I seem to have misplaced my logbook. I’m planning on seeing the bookmaker on that in a few day’s time, however. My apologies.”

“No need, perhaps you can recognize him from the picture?” The other piped up, unfolding a piece of parchment to reveal a drawn sketch of his son. It was pretty accurate. Scarily so. It captured the fire-like determination in his son’s eyes that never extinguished. The scars were all in the correct places, even one close to his eye that Phil recalled he fretted over when Techno had arrived home at last, claiming that the blow could’ve blinded him.

Phil tensed slightly, and the more aggressive naval officer’s eyes flicked up to his. They bore into him. “Is there something wrong, Mr. Craft?”

Keep calm. Don’t give anything away. They need you.

Wilbur needs you. Fundy needs you. Tommy needs you. Y/N needs you.

Technoblade needs you.

“Pardon me, officers - just… lifelike, that’s all.” Phil put on his best smile. “Nearly gave me a fright.” He laughed a bit, and the officer holding the poster gave him a warm smile.

“No worries, sir. Just take a good look for a second - do you recognize this man?”

‘WANTED’ was sprawled across the top. ‘Armed and Dangerous’ is written at the bottom. Oh, and there was the reward for catching him. Phil saw so many zeroes he didn’t know whether to be proud or disgusted. After all, Phil couldn’t count the number of times, in the beginning, he’d told Techno how dangerous this business was, the number of pirates who got caught and put in prison or were victims of the gallows. He told him it was risky, he told him he could die.

But, he guessed, Technoblade always lived life to the fullest, a bit more on edge than others ever dreamed they would. It was a part of him Phil could never change. It was a part of him Phil loved. So, even though he wanted him to be safe, who was he to take that adventure-seeking spark in his eyes away? He was happy, after all. But now, reality began to seep in. Reality of Y/N growing up without a father, without her father. Before, Technoblade had nothing to lose.

Now? Now, he had everything to lose.

As the two officers looked to him for an answer, Phil swallowed the knot in his throat. He knew lying to a government official was a traitorous offense. He knew what would happen if they caught wind of the truth. But he and his sons… they were apples from the same tree, he supposed. Risk-takers. Liars.

For Phil… family always came first.

“No… No, I can’t say I’ve seen him.” Phil shook his head slightly. “Though I thank you both for the warning, I’ll definitely be on the lookout for him.”

A yawn sounded from behind him as someone descended the stairs. “Phil…?” Phil’s head snapped over to Tommy, who looked weary at the scene in front of him. The father could feel the officer’s gazes on him from just sitting there. He’d hoped that he could get the officers to leave before Tommy or Y/N woke up. At this point he hoped Tommy could stay as calm as he was, or he could risk undoing all the protection Phil had done to keep them from suspicion. “Phil, what’s…?”

“Oh, Tommy. I didn’t mean to wake you up this early.” Phil stood, noticing Tommy’s stiffened stance at the Navy, moving forward to gently place his hands on his youngest’s shoulders. He turned to the other two with a smile. “My son.” Phil could feel Tommy shaking with anger and fear. He squeezed the teen’s shoulders to help bring him back to reality before he boiled over. “I’m so sorry to put you in such a state when we have guests, I didn’t think it would take this long.” Tommy’s eyes flicked up to his, a silent message. Is this about Techno? Phil gave a slight nod. “Hm, yes I know you must be hungry… go on upstairs and get changed, I’ll try to make you some breakfast in a minute, I promise.”

Tommy’s shoulders relaxed as he awkwardly looked at the officers, standing down. “Uh… right. Right. I’m sorry… I…” He turned without another word, quickly climbing the stairs.

“Your boy okay?” The naval officer asked, eyeing the staircase.

Phil nervously laughed. “You’ll have to excuse him, he gets nervous around strangers.” He explained. “I really should be getting to making breakfast, is there anything else I can help you both with?”

The other piped up, reassuring. “I don’t believe so, Mr. Craft. We’re deeply sorry to have inconvenienced you.”

“No, please…” Phil answered. “This was quite informative.”

“Keep the poster as a reference and notify us if you see him in the area… don’t approach, he’s known to be unstable, sir - talking to himself.”

“I see.” Phil nodded as he led the two to the door. The voices were acting up again… something must’ve happened. “Thank you so much for letting me know.”

They both tipped their hats in respect. “Sir.”

“Sir.” The one behind him repeated. “Have a good day, Mr. Craft. We’ll keep in touch.”

Gods, Phil hoped they wouldn’t.

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

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@bones-sprouts

@foolishcaptains

@benzel

#my writing #dream smp drabble #dream smp fic #dream smp au #dream smp #dsmpblr #platonic father technoblade #platonic x reader #dadza philza #philza #wilbur soot #tommyinnit #itsfundy #sbi family dynamic #sbi found family #technoblade

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threeamfics · 4 years ago

Text

Here it is, my very first self-indulgent fic on this site. I prefer writing in first person POV but I’m gonna tag this as a reader fic since I tried to make it possible for anyone to self-insert. Enjoy!

Word Count: 6k

Summary: I used to loathe Baron Zemo. I never thought my feelings could change so much in a single day.

Tags: angst, fluff, gender ambiguous MC, first person POV, soft Zemo

TW: blood, mentions of suicidal thoughts

The Monster, the Once-Was Father

Zemo laid there on the hard floor, struggling to breathe. I wasn’t sure whether or not I wanted to help him. He was a murderer, a manipulator, a criminal, a heartless monster.

But only an hour ago he’d been telling me what his son had looked like. Zemo had described, in loving detail, the silly things his son would sometimes do. I’d seen a rare smile on Zemo’s face while he lamented those times from before the disaster in Sokovia. It forced me to recognize the man beneath the monster, as unwilling as I was to see it.

So now, despite the many reasons I still had for hating him, I reached out to help him. It was not “Baron Zemo, the monster” who I reached out to, but “Helmut Zemo, the once-was father.” I did my best to keep this in mind as I pressed my hand against the bullet wound in his abdomen to temper his blood loss.

“Breathe evenly,” I instructed him under the sound of more gunfire. The anarchists who’d shot him seconds ago wanted their killing blow, but I kept myself crouched low on my knees behind our makeshift barricade. Sam and Bucky were elsewhere, hopefully searching this empty building for a way to flank the anarchists. None of us had anticipated this ambush.

With his eyes squeezed shut against the pain, Zemo nodded, and he took a deep, shuddering breath.

“Keep doing that,” I said to him. A bullet skimmed the top of our barricade. Instinctively I bent myself lower, closer to Zemo. My hand felt warm with his blood. “But we can’t stay here. When I say run, you need to run with me. Understand?”

This time Zemo opened his eyes and looked at me with resolve when he nodded. I knew then that this hadn’t been his first time getting shot in combat.

I looked down at his wound. It was off-center, possibly non-lethal so long as the bleeding could be stopped. But there was nothing I could do about that in the middle of a firefight. I knew there were medical supplies in the car, but I had to get down there first. I silently begged for the distraction we desperately needed.

Then the shooting stopped. I heard one of the anarchists shout, “Behind us!” And the shooting began once more, but the bullets flew in the other direction. Sam and Bucky must have successfully flanked them.

I grabbed the lapels of Zemo’s coat and began pulling him up, forcing a pained growl through his clenched teeth.

“Run!” I commanded him. In an instant he was on his feet, as was I, and we raced out of the room before the anarchists could notice. I led our escape and looked back now and then to make sure Zemo was right behind me. I hadn’t expected him to handle himself this well with such a bad injury, but then again, nothing about him could be considered predictable.

We made it through a few corridors and halfway down a set of stairs before Zemo finally stopped to let out a guttural moan. I skidded to a halt and turned to look up at where he stood on the steps. He was hunched over the bannister, his features twisted in agony.

“We can’t stay here,” I gently urged.

Zemo looked like hell, with his cheeks reddened and his hair disheveled. “Give me a moment,” he managed to say between gasps for air.

I looked around to make sure no anarchists had caught up to us yet. “We may not have a moment. And the sooner we get somewhere safe, the sooner I can stop that bleed.”

Zemo didn’t move. He stood there, breathing heavily, quaking. With a soft sigh I climbed the stairs to stand at his side, and I ducked underneath one of his arms. He watched me, bemused.

“Come on,” I said, anchoring him to me by his arm around my shoulders. I tugged him forward, giving him no choice but to comply and lean his weight against me. The descent down the rest of the stairs proved difficult enough that I slipped my other arm beneath his coat and around his waist, where I grabbed him by the belt to steady him. Zemo placed his free hand upon mine there, perhaps out of reflex, or maybe as plea to not let go. Both our hands were slick with his blood.

Eventually we made it outside, where the sun beat brightly against the paved streets and sidewalks. It was out here that I realized Zemo’s blood had run down the length of his leg and was dripping off the cuff of his pants, leaving a trail behind us.

“Shit,” I muttered.

“What?” he rasped. Then he followed my gaze. “...Ah.”

I needed to get him somewhere safe without any anarchists tracking us down. Everywhere I looked, however, there was only wide open space, and in very public view.

And then I heard Sam calling out to me. I patted Zemo’s arm as a signal to let go. He hurriedly shifted his weight off me, allowing me to slip away, and I rushed to meet Sam and Bucky as they made their own escape from the building.

“Zemo was shot back there,” I explained, breathless, “I need to—”

Sam interrupted by tossing a set of car keys at me. “Go,” he urged. “Take him. We’ll be all right, I promise.”

I caught the keys, but I hesitated to leave. That car was the only escape we all had. “I can’t just—”

“I’ll send you the coordinates for our next safe house,” Sam cut me off again. The resolve in his eyes was apparent.

I looked at Bucky, who jerked his chin in the direction of the car. “Go on. We still need the information Zemo’s holding hostage from us, so don’t let him die.”

They were giving me no choice but to leave them. They could handle themselves, I reminded myself, but it still wrung my heart to turn my back to them. They ran one way, and I ran the other, back to Zemo, of all people in the entire world.

When I returned to Zemo, he was lightly swaying where he stood. I stopped long enough to look at his face. He’d become alarmingly pale in such a short time. His hair, normally so tidy, now hung loosely above his eyes, dampened with sweat. I tried to hold his gaze, but he seemed barely able to focus on me.

“Take this off,” I told him, pushing the fur-collared coat off his shoulders, knowing it would only be in the way later. As Zemo shrugged it down his arms, I noticed a handgun tucked inside the shoulder holster he wore underneath the coat.

I frowned at him and said, “When did you get your hands on a gun?”

Zemo only answered with a frail but roguish smile. I shook my head, vexed by him. He was unbelievably crafty. Gathering his coat in my arms, I told him to shed the holster, and I collected that from him, too.

“Into the car,” I commanded, leading him toward it by the hand and steadying him each time he stumbled. It was a miracle he didn’t collapse until after he’d crawled onto the backseat, where his body finally gave out. I tossed the coat and holster to the floor of the car before circling around and practically throwing myself into the driver’s seat. And then we were speeding away.

I drove us toward the outskirts of the city where I knew more condemned, abandoned buildings would be. Occasionally I glanced at the rear view mirror to check on Zemo. He laid in the backseat, too tall to fit comfortably, and though his face was turned away from me, I could see his fists clenched white-knuckled against the pain. I pressed harder on the gas.

The few minutes it took to reach the outskirts felt like forever. I pulled up to the first dilapidated building I saw, some sort of old storefront. Hopefully there weren’t any other unfortunates already using it for refuge. I yanked a medical bag out of the glove compartment and threw it over my shoulder before leaping from the car.

“Come on, round two,” I said after wrenching the back door open. Zemo didn’t respond. I reached in to grab him by the front of his maroon sweater, and he weakly groaned as I pulled him into a sitting position.

“Just a little further,” I pressed. My hands were on his shoulders, tugging him, trying to coax him from the backseat. I could see where his blood had soaked into the seat’s fabric.

Zemo ran a trembling hand through his hair. His eyes were half-lidded, unfocused, and sweat glistened on his forehead. I took hold of his face between my hands.

“Zemo!” I shouted, and his dark eyes locked on mine at last. “On your feet, okay? Just a bit further!”

It was then, as I noticed all confidence had vanished from Zemo’s face, his eyes fraught as they stared into mine, that I realized just how vulnerable he looked, and how concerned I actually felt for him. He could die here, and I didn’t want him to.

“Come on, just a little further,” I urged again.

Zemo swallowed with difficulty and nodded. Slowly, carefully, he slid from the car to his feet, and I ducked under his arm to guide him again. I could feel his entire body shaking against me as we hobbled our way into the building.

The storefront had evidently been some kind of café once upon a time. A handful of tables and chairs remained scattered around the room, each one layered in dust from disuse. It was all I could take note of however, for we only made it a few feet inside before Zemo’s legs gave way. He slid from my grip and collapsed onto the hardwood floor.

Falling to my knees beside him, I dropped the medical bag, ripped it open, and spilled its contents to the floor. With quick hands I separated out the supplies I knew I would need and brushed aside the rest. Then I turned back to Zemo, who was still on his stomach, breathing hard against the floor.

“Work with me,” I instructed as I tugged at his shoulder. He obliged and pushed himself onto his back.

“Apologies,” he whispered up at me.

I almost dropped what was in my hand. He was the one dying, and yet he was apologizing to me? For a minor inconvenience?

I banished the thought. There was no time for that right now. If Zemo lost any more blood, there would be no chance of saving him.

I untucked his sweater to reveal his pale, taut abdomen, and the wound that marred it. The bullet had pierced him to the right of his naval, just below his rib cage. Hopefully it would leave no debilitating damage.

“The bullet is still inside,” I explained, keeping my voice as steady as possible. The medical kit came with two syringes of localized anesthetic. I held one up to him. “This will dull the pain a bit, but it’s still gonna hurt like hell.”

I watched Zemo’s face for any signs of fear. His eyes only hardened, and he nodded for me to proceed. After uncapping the needle with my teeth, I injected the anesthetic into the muscle of his side, though I must’ve jabbed a little too hard since it earned a wince from Zemo. I took note to be gentler.

Blood continued to pour from the wound. There were no towels in the medkit, so I hurriedly removed my own sweater and pressed it against Zemo’s skin to soak his blood. The cold air around us easily penetrated the thin fabric of my undershirt, but I barely noticed it.

“You don’t want me to live, do you?” Zemo suddenly spoke. His voice rasped with pain and fatigue.

I had to stare at him for a moment before I could form a reply. “Obviously I do. Why else would I be saving your life?”

“You’re saving me out of an obligation to Sam and James.” Zemo studied the ceiling now, avoiding my eyes. “And of a moral obligation to preserve life in general. But if you could discard all of that, and only act on what you believe is the logical choice, then you would let me die for what I’ve done.”

I didn’t want to discuss this. He was wrong about me, that was for certain. But the things I’d been wanting to say to him ever since meeting him in Madripoor, when Bucky had first asked for my help, came rushing to the forefront of my mind. I’d been so intent on saving Zemo from this damn bullet that I momentarily forgot everything I hated about him. And now, he just had to go and remind me.

“You tried to destroy the Avengers,” I nearly growled at him as I grabbed a pair of forceps. “And you did it because you decided on behalf of the entire world that it was necessary.”

“It was,” Zemo insisted. “Power corrupts. It blinds. They could no longer see their own flaws, and because of their power, those flaws became dangerous to the very people they were trying to protect.”

I removed my blood-soaked sweater and plunged the forceps into his wound. Zemo’s words were interrupted by a low groan through his teeth, but he didn’t stop. “Stark created Ultron. Rogers harbored a deadly super soldier. All with good intentions, yes, but each with collateral deaths. They needed to be torn down before—”

I purposely wrenched the forceps too harshly when clamping them around the bullet, forcing another sound of pain out of Zemo. This time he didn’t continue. Instead, he threw his arm over his eyes, hiding his reddening cheeks. His trembling free hand clenched the fabric of his own sweater.

I instantly realized how petty it was of me to harm him in this kind of situation, no matter how much his words angered me. A heavy sigh blew from my nose. “You say all of that, and yet we desperately needed the Avengers when half the world got dusted.” I extracted the bullet and tossed it to the floor. “They were disbanded when all of that happened, because of you. There’s a chance they could’ve stopped it if they’d been together. Say whatever you want, but your arrogance played a role in the worst catastrophe that’s ever happened to us.”

Zemo said nothing. His chest rose and fell with shuddering breaths. I could see the strain in his clenched jaw.

I injected him with the second dose of anesthetic, and with the few tools I had, I set to work on closing the wound. “They still saved us in the end,” I said. “They brought everyone back and stopped that space army from invading. Despite everything you did to them, the Avengers persevered. Thank god your plan to get rid of them failed miserably.” I paused to concentrate on stitching for a moment, and then I murmured, “I was dusted, you know? I wouldn’t be here if not for them.”

It was then that Zemo finally moved his arm from his face and looked at me. I avoided his eyes, concentrating on his injury, but I could feel him studying me.

When he spoke, his voice was soft and raw. “I was spared, but I remember that day vividly. I was in my prison cell. The guard had come to deliver my meal, as he always would. It was so much like clockwork that I did what I’d always done every single day— stood at the door and waited for my meal to be handed through the slot.

“Only this time, the tray of food clattered to the floor. The guard had dropped it. I remember how it looked when he raised his hand, only to see it blowing away, like smoke. And then the rest of him scattered into ash. The worst part was, he hadn’t even screamed. He was simply gone.”

Zemo audibly swallowed. “I knew I wasn’t dreaming. Something terrible was happening. From the confines of my cell, I tried to see if anyone else had suffered the same. I caught a glimpse of more dust down the hall. Likely another guard. I started to hear other prisoners screaming through the walls. There was nothing I could do but wait for it to happen to me.

“But it never did. I sat on the bed for hours, wondering when I would disappear, and yet I remained. I didn’t learn what had happened until four days later, when one of the prison workers finally informed me. Even then, all they could tell me was that a battle with cosmic forces had taken place in Wakanda. We had lost. And whoever had been victorious was the one who’d done this to us.”

Silence then filled the room. I’d finished his stitches, and all that remained was to clean and bandage the wound. I silently mulled over his words as I continued working.

“I did consider it,” Zemo finally admitted. “That it had been partially my fault. But at the time, I refused to accept such a thing. What I’d done was necessary, and that was that.”

His words made me bristle. “Do you still think that?”

“I want to.” Zemo laid a hand over his eyes. “For so long after the destruction of my home, I thought of nothing but revenge. Everything I did from that moment on, I did for my lost family. Tearing apart the Avengers was for them.

“And then half the world became dust. I’d wanted to prevent further tragedies, and yet the very opposite happened. And I don’t want—,” Zemo’s voice broke, and his grimace deepened. “I don’t want to believe that the one thing I did for my loved ones was the wrong thing to do.”

I was very gentle now as I cleaned his stitches. My heart had begun to ache. I looked over at him, and though he attempted to hide his eyes beneath his hand, I could see much more than physical pain in his face. And to think, I’d hated him so much only moments ago.

Zemo’s other hand still tightly clenched the fabric of his sweater. I reached out to place my own hand upon his. I could feel him trembling.

“There is so much more you can do to love and honor your family’s memory,” I said quietly. “And it’s never too late to start.”

Zemo didn’t say anything, and he didn’t show his eyes. But, after a moment, I felt his hand relax, and his fingers threaded through mine. The small gesture made me smile.

“I still have to finish fixing you,” I whispered, surprised by my own unwillingness to let go. Zemo released my fingers, and neither of us said anything more as I bandaged his wound to the best of my ability.

Once I was satisfied with my own work, I pulled his sweater back into place and pushed all the supplies aside. I then positioned myself by his head, and, very tenderly, I moved his hand away from his face. Zemo’s eyes, rimmed red with fatigue and emotion, met mine. For a second I found myself lost in them. There was a rich vibrancy in the brown of his eyes, framed delicately by long, dark lashes. I didn’t want to look away.

But I remembered why I was here, and I checked the pulse in his neck with my fingers. It was worryingly slow. What he needed was a shot of adrenaline, but the medkit had nothing like that. We would just have to hope his body could recover itself.

“Am I going to make it?” he asked, a faint smile playing at one corner of his mouth.

“Too soon to say, unfortunately,” I answered. No sense in lying to him. I placed my palm against his forehead to check his temperature. “You’re not too warm though, so that’s good.” Without thinking, I ran my fingers through the locks of his disheveled hair to smooth it, and only caught myself after the fact.

“You look like hell,” I joked, trying to play off my action.

“I hear dying can do that to a person.”

I let out a small laugh, and Zemo smiled.

“I don’t think I can stay awake,” he then said, and his face fell. I could tell he was exhausted.

“Yeah, well, your body could probably use the rest. Go ahead and sleep. I’ll keep watch.”

Zemo nodded, his eyes already closed.

I went hunting around the abandoned building and, beyond all luck, managed to find a suitable blanket in a cluttered closet. After beating the dust from it as best I could, I returned to find Zemo asleep right where I left him. Breath came from him slowly and evenly for the first time in a while. I covered him with the blanket. The sun would set soon, and nighttime would chill the air even further.

The cold was finally getting to me, I realized. My limbs had begun to shiver now that I wasn’t concentrating solely on Zemo. My sweater, however, had become useless after soaking in so much blood, and I’d only been fortunate enough to find one blanket. There was only one option left.

I found myself retrieving Zemo’s long coat from where I’d tossed it into the back of the car and, with a sigh, I slipped my arms in and shrugged it on. It was actually comfortable, and definitely warm. I made sure to grab the pistol from Zemo’s holster and stuffed it into the back of my jeans before returning inside.

Now all that was left to do was wait. I pulled a chair up to the window and sat myself down, mentally preparing for a long night. The chill air made me bury myself deeper into the coat until its fur collar reached my nose. It smelled good, I realized. Really good. And I hated to admit that because it meant Zemo smelled good. Despite the uncertainty over how it made me feel, I continued to deeply inhale the scent of him.

It kept occurring to me that Zemo’s life could slip away at any moment as he slept, so I looked back every few minutes to make sure I could still see him breathing. He always was, and I was always relieved.

I wondered what Sam and Bucky were doing. Did they make it out? Were they searching for a new safe house? I could text Sam and suggest this place, but the surrounding area was too much of an unknown factor. It was best if I simply waited and left it up to them. In my mind I begged them to stay safe.

At some point I fell asleep in my chair. Allowing myself to drift off while keeping watch was irresponsible, but I must’ve been far more exhausted than I realized. When I opened my eyes, it was suddenly nighttime outside.

None of the street lamps were powered, and none of the other buildings showed signs of electricity. The only source of illumination was the full moon as it rose above the horizon. Its pale light washed over the streets outside and filtered through the window, turning the room around me into shades of gray.

It was by the light of the moon that I saw Zemo sitting not far from me in his own chair at the window. He was wrapped in the blanket I’d found, and he looked rather alert as he watched the world outside.

“Hey,” I greeted in a whisper.

Zemo turned to me and his face softened. “Good morning,” he replied, his voice low and still a bit raspy. “Though, I say that less than literally.” He gestured at the night sky and smiled.

“How are you?” I asked, wanting to get straight to the point. “How do you feel?”

“Still tired, still in pain, but I think I’ll be all right. I was able to get up and walk over here well enough on my own.” Zemo indicated the blanket. “Thank you for this, by the way.”

I shrugged, implying it was no big deal, then realized I was still wearing his coat. “You probably want this back, huh?”

“No, no,” he shook his head, “keep it for now. It’s quite cold in here. And... it looks quite good on you.”

I didn’t want that to make me blush, but it did, and Zemo smiled a lopsided smile. At a loss for words, I looked away.

And then something occurred to me. Something that I’d picked up on during other conversations with him, especially when he would speak of his family. How everything about him seemed to be rooted in the past and not the present. So, as I stared out the window, I cautiously said, “If this had been up to you, would you have chosen to die?”

The atmosphere became uncomfortable after that. I feared I’d crossed a line, but he had done the same when he’d suggested I would have let him die under other circumstances. I wanted to know his answer.

After a long and tense stretch of silence, Zemo quietly spoke. “Yes. As you were helping me, there were moments when I wished you would fail so I could finally see the end. Years ago, on the day I tore apart the Avengers, I tried to put a bullet in my head. The merciful then-Prince of Wakanda stopped me, and I sat in my prison cell every day wishing he hadn’t. Death, to me, has always felt like an inevitability that wasn’t approaching fast enough.”

His answer was difficult to hear. I could feel tears welling in my eyes. Nobody, no matter who they were or what they’d done, should have to feel such hopelessness.

“But,” Zemo continued, and the way he stressed the word made me look over at him. “Now that I am sitting here, watching the moon on this peaceful night...” Looking into my eyes, he added, “with you... I feel only the urge to thank you for saving my life.”

For a second I was stunned. Then I couldn’t help but grin. I caught a tear from the corner of my eye before it could fall, and I murmured, “You’re welcome.”

He seemed content with that. In fact, with as calculating and sharp-witted as Zemo often was, he seemed more relaxed now than I’d ever seen him before.

“When we get back on our feet,” he said rather amiably, “I’d like to make some of my favorite tea for you. How does that sound?”

“It sounds lovely,” I replied, and I meant it. I buried myself deeper into his coat, inhaling the scent of him, hoping he wouldn’t notice what I was doing. But the movement made me realize something was missing. I reached for the back of my jeans.

“Oh— !” I exclaimed.

Zemo lifted his brows at my sudden outburst. Then, he understood.

“You’re looking for this,” he casually remarked, pulling the gun out from under his blanket. “Apologies, but I do need it for myself.”

I folded my arms, unable to keep the annoyance from my face. “Are you gonna use it as leverage on me?”

Zemo placed the gun onto the windowsill. “Absolutely not. It’s merely precautionary.”

I wasn’t surprised that he’d snuck the gun away from me, but it bothered me nonetheless. “So you’re still as shifty as ever. Has anything you’ve said in the last few hours even been real, or was it just more manipulation toward some end goal you have?”

Now Zemo was the one who looked insulted. “Not a single word I’ve said to you has been a lie. In fact, you’re the only person in the world I’ve spoken these truths to.”

That hit me hard. I sheepishly looked away, remembering the undeniable intimacy of everything he’d told me. “I shouldn’t have said that,” I whispered. “I’m sorry.”

Zemo sighed. “I know it’s difficult to trust me. I wouldn’t trust me either. But please trust that these last few hours have been very real for me, and I have meant every second of it.”

I looked at him once more and was captured by his gaze. There was something genuine in his dark eyes, something vulnerable, something pleading.

Zemo gave me a sad smile and said, “I don’t often have the luxury of living in moments that feel real anymore.”

All of my doubts suddenly melted away, and I knew exactly what I wanted. Pride and hatred had left me long ago.

I stood from my chair and closed the distance between us. Zemo kept his eyes on me, curious but unguarded. I reached out, beckoning for his hand, and when he obeyed, I brought his hand to my mouth, buried my nose in his palm, inhaled deeply, and I kissed him there. All traces of tension left me in the moment my lips met his skin.

Zemo watched as I turned his hand over and placed a gentle kiss upon each knuckle. I looked at him, wordlessly asking for permission to keep going, or for him to stop me if he didn’t want this.

His answer was swift and immediate. The hand I was kissing slipped away from me, and then Zemo was standing, taking my face into his hands, and he claimed my lips with his own. The blanket fell from his shoulders into a heap at our feet.

I couldn’t believe how much I’d been wanting this. His scent was even more intoxicating than his coat, and he tasted wonderful. I parted my lips as we kissed so I could taste him even further.

But then he moaned hard against my mouth. The sound was so strained that I broke away, startled. Zemo was grimacing, and his hands dropped from my face to hold his side.

I hid my disappointment. It wasn’t his fault, after all. “You need more rest,” I insisted gently.

With a noise somewhere between a groan and a sigh, Zemo lowered his forehead onto my shoulder, and I wrapped my arms around his neck, holding him there.

“I’m pretty sure what you have is called a traumatic injury,” I teased, “and you need to take care of it. Besides, we’re both still covered in blood. Not exactly romantic.”

“I don’t mind,” Zemo said, his voice muffled against me. He turned his head and began to kiss my neck. My skin had been chilled by the night air for hours, and the sensation of his soft, warm lips was lovely. My fingertips dug into his shoulder blades. I felt his hands on my waist, and he tugged me forward, bringing my body closer to his.

“This truly does look so satisfying on you,” he whispered against my ear just before pulling his coat off me. I let it fall to the floor and threw my arms back over his shoulders.

“Zemo,” I murmured as a tender protest, knowing we shouldn’t do this when he was so badly injured.

But Zemo took it a different way. With a sigh he began to suck at the skin of my neck. A whimper escaped me as my body tensed deliciously, and my fingers tangled in his hair. I realized it was the first time I’d spoken his name with such affection. I repeated it, no longer protesting, and he lightly nipped my neck with his teeth. It made me press my body flush against his, and I could feel how much he wanted me. I wanted him, too.

The reality of the situation fully dawned on me then, and I couldn’t help but giggle in spite of everything.

Zemo skimmed the tip of his nose along my jaw to my ear and said in a low voice that made me shiver, “What’s so funny?”

“You,” I answered truthfully. “You and me. I just never expected this.”

After one last kiss to my temple, Zemo stopped, and he lifted his head to look at me. There was apprehension in his eyes now. I didn’t want him to misinterpret my meaning, so I pulled him back to me and captured his mouth with my own.

I was kissing Baron Helmut Zemo, the man who almost destroyed the Avengers. The man who manipulated Bucky like a pawn. The man who was usually three steps ahead of everyone around him. But he was also the man who’d lost everything he’d ever loved, and maybe that was why I felt him surrender himself into me so easily, so eagerly.

I grasped his chin with my thumb and pulled his mouth open so my tongue could finally explore him. He made a soft sound, but didn’t pull away. I felt his hands run under my shirt, up my back, across my chest, all over me, as I tasted every inch of his mouth. I wanted more of him. I wanted all of him.

But he’d been shot not even twelve hours ago. I forced myself to break away from him once more.

“We have to stop,” I whispered. “Your stitches are gonna tear if you get too excited.”

Despite the pain and fatigue that was evident on his face no matter how hard he tried to hide it, Zemo still managed to grin the first real, full smile I’d ever seen on him. It took my breath away.

“All right,” he said. “You win.”

“In fact, you should be lying down, not keeping watch at the window.”

“You know what I think?” Zemo asked, giving me a fiendish look. “I think you should join me on the floor.”

I narrowed my eyes at him. “Someone needs to be lookout.”

“If they knew our location and were coming for us, they would have come by now.”

He wasn’t giving me any room for argument. Sighing, I grabbed the blanket from where it had fallen. “Need help getting down there?” I asked.

He responded by holding out his hand. I grabbed it and steadied him as he lowered himself as carefully as he could. When he finally laid flat, he let out a groan.

“It’s not comfortable down here at all,” he muttered. “And yet, now that I’m here, all I want is to sleep.”

I laughed and followed suit, stretching myself out on the floor beside him, and I spread the blanket out over us both. “Try to rest. I’m staying right here.”

Zemo rolled onto his good side toward me, and he buried his face into my hair. I felt him plant a kiss there. He then spoke something very softly in words I couldn’t understand. I assumed he was speaking Sokovian.

“What does that mean?” I politely asked.

He chuckled. “Someday I will translate it for you.”

I pouted up at him. Zemo kissed my hair once more.

“I promise it was only good things.”

“I believe you.” I took one of his hands into mine and entwined our fingers. There were old callouses on his, softened from the years he spent in prison. I kissed the back of his hand.

“I could’ve sworn you hated me with all your heart yesterday,” Zemo said. His deep, rumbling voice was pleasant against my ear.

“I did,” I admitted. Lowering his hand, I looked into his eyes. His gorgeous brown eyes. “I don’t anymore.”

And he kissed me, deeply, lovingly. Everything had changed in a matter of hours, and I was thankful.

“Now go to sleep,” I said after we broke apart. “You seriously need it.”

The smile Zemo gave me set my heart alight. “As you command,” he whispered.

#zemo x reader #baron zemo #tfatws #the falcon and the winter soldier fic #self insert fanfic #idek what else to tag this as

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thosewickedlovelies · 4 years ago

Text

AND THEY WERE WALLMATES: Banana Bread (part 1)

Pairing: Javier Peña x F!Reader

Rating: probably T for mature themes (implications of sexy times and violence). It will go up later ;)

Summary: You share an apartment wall with Javier Peña, but that doesn’t make it any easier to get to know him. You didn’t think your baking would be the catalyst (read: Javi is jealous that Connie gets all the extras).

Tags: Mention of blood; super vague description of wound care; alcohol; TW for Javi: you have FEELINGS bby

Word count: 2,791

A/N: I guess technically this starts at the beginning of season 1, but I don’t plan on referencing the events of the show, so imagine they’re working on things less intense than trying to catch Escobar. I found Javier really tricky to write for, so I hope this reads okay! I’m so excited about the future chapters I have outlined for this lol pls get hype.

Masterlist

---

You had only been living in your new place for about a month when you got new neighbors. You were glad for the company- the four-apartment building was fairly new, and didn’t feel very lived-in. You did your best to add some personal flair to your apartment, but it still had the effect of reminding you of your own newness to this place, your lack of any deep personal connections.

Your other neighbor didn’t exactly help with that. Javier Peña had lived here for awhile before you moved in, but that was all you knew about him; you didn’t speak much beyond your neighborly greetings and his insinuating smiles. He never hides his lingering glances, but nor does he make any other moves- you sense he’s a safe type, all bark and no bite (without consent). So you always amusedly but politely ignore the invitation implicit in your exchanges. They don’t seem to have a lot of depth anyway, as if he’s just trying for the sake of trying. Granted, he probably never has to do much more than that- you’re very aware of how attractive your neighbor is on the surface. You just prefer to feel a connection slightly deeper than surface level before going home with someone.

You learn more about him from Connie, who tells you that he works at the embassy with her husband, Steve. In “janitorial services.” You raise a bemused eyebrow at that, but respect your neighbors’ privacy and don’t ask further questions. You help Connie get a job at a hospital a few blocks away from the one you’re a nurse at and promise to help her practice Spanish.

The building feels more lively now, and you’re happy to have a confidant upstairs, especially one who’s more privy to the life of your enigmatic hall-mate. You don’t know if it’s the neighborly care you feel for your new friend or if there’s some other unconscious change, but you begin to keep an ear out for Javier. You do share an apartment wall, although you don’t glean much through it. Some standard kitchen rummaging, television noise, the occasional bedroom guest (whose enterprises you try not to listen to, but damn if the man doesn’t have a perfect voice for after-dark activities). The most noticeable thing about him is the odd hours he keeps: sometimes in tandem with Steve’s schedule and sometimes not, you can never predict when he’ll be in or out.

Little do you know, you’re not the only one paying attention. Javier has spent many an evening alone with only whiskey and the television for company, but now there are other things to stimulate his senses. The smell of your baking filtering through the wall, even lingering in the hallway the next morning. The sound of you singing to the radio while clattering about the kitchen. Sometimes he turns the tv down to listen and imagines there being no wall between your two homes. What would his life be like with someone to infuse that kind of sweetness and light into it?

He doesn’t mean you specifically, necessarily. If, once or twice, your face jumps to mind while he’s taking care of himself in bed, he thinks nothing of it. You’re his beautiful neighbor- it’s a fantasy begging to be played out.

But damn if he hasn’t been tempted to make it a reality. He gets to taste your baking sometimes when you leave extras with Connie, and one day she catches his brow creased in a frown, distracted halfway through a slice of walnut banana bread.

“Javi,” Connie repeats, trying to get his attention.

“Yeah.” Javier snaps out of it, looking up.

“You’ve been staring at that piece of banana bread for a full two minutes. Is it gonna do a trick?”

He decides to lean into it, see what Connie’s reaction might be. “Only if the trick is getting me out of my pants. I don’t know a man alive who could resist the shit she makes.” He scoops another forkful into his mouth to prove his point, letting the rich, nutty flavor remind him of other places. Homes. Real homes, made of people, not the solitary kind he lives in now.

She rolls her eyes at his crudeness, but agrees. “You’re right about that. I don’t know where she gets the energy to do this after hospital shifts.”

Javier hides his next thought with another forkful of bread and a noncommittal noise. Wonder if she’d have as much energy for it if she had a man to tire her out. It was automatic, a question he couldn’t help debating with himself. Surely no one who spent that much time in the kitchen could have energy to spare on…other pursuits.

Connie is regarding him shrewdly. He avoids her gaze, focusing on finishing his plate in large mouthfuls to avoid the questions he can feel brewing. But he’s not quick enough. “Has she always brought you extras too?” she asks. Too casually, idling with her fork.

“No,” Javier says dismissively, and it’s not quite a scoff. “She wasn’t here long before you showed up. We’re not as close as you two.” Understatement. Did he sound sour about the fact?

Before Connie can ask any more questions he rises from his seat. “Well, don’t let me keep you. Tell Steve what I said.” With a nod of farewell, he turns and strides out the door.

One night you’re awoken with a start from where you’d fallen asleep on the couch. Heart pounding, you sit up, listening intently. You’d never felt unsafe here, but you’re aware of the potential dangers. What had woken you?

You hear a swear from the hall, and your muscles relax as you recognize Javier’s low voice. There’s a beat of silence, then a scraping, clinking sound. He must have dropped his keys. But then he grunts, and concern sweeps over you. You’re a nurse- you recognize the sound of a man stifling his pain.

There are long delays before each new noise that indicates an action. The doorknob twists as he grunts again, but it’s a moment before the key turns in the lock. It seems to take an age for him to get through the door; his motions sound clumsy before he closes it. Safe in the privacy of his home, so he thinks, he lets out a longer sigh, the pain and exhaustion now obvious in the sound. But you can hear his fumbling through the wall, and you worry your lip between your teeth. It is your place to go see if he’s alright?

Finally you decide that it is. You’re his neighbor and a healthcare professional, and it is your professional opinion that he sounded in-pain enough to warrant a check-up. Plus, you heard him that way before he got inside, you reason. So it’s not as if you were just being snoopy through the wall.

Just in case, though, you grab some muffins you made earlier as a backup excuse (once again mentally thanking whoever left the cookbook in your apartment). 11:30 isn’t too late for a friendly drop-by, right?

You knock softly on his door. “Javier? It’s me.” Nervous energy taps in your fingers. You’re never even been on his side of the hallway before.

There’s a shuffling sound, and the door unlatches. A narrow gap opens, into which Javier plants himself, and you immediately zero in on where he keeps one leg wedged behind the door. He leans into the elbow propped against the doorjamb above his head, while his other hand already holds a glass of what you can smell is whiskey. He looks like he would rather be anywhere but here at this moment. “Neighbor,” he greets dryly, a neutral expression on his face.

“Uhh.” You’ve never been this close to him before, and his appearance catches you off-guard. His usually combed hair is messy, waves tangling over his forehead, and he’s sweaty, the open collar of his shirt damp and the exposed skin gleaming with moisture.

Javier raises an eyebrow expectantly, taking a sip of his drink. His glances down at the plate in your hands, and it prompts you to speak.

“Hi, Javier. Uh, sorry, I know it’s late, but I thought I’d bring you some of these-“ you lift the dish “-before they come with me to work tomorrow. They’re banana bread muffins.” Your voice falters with your confidence. Your eyes can’t help but flicker over his face and chest, taking in the smear of dust on his jaw, the redness of the knuckles wrapped around his glass. Mostly you’re trying not to look at the leg he’s definitely hiding, which you can tell he’s keeping his weight off of.

Javier stares at you, not buying it for a second. His lips purse for lack of a cigarette to wrap around. He shifts the weight he has on his arm- damn, his leg hurts- and wonders what could have possibly prompted you to start bringing him baked goods now of all moments. “Why aren’t you bring those to Connie’s?” Like usual.

“Um, well-“ He sees your gaze finally drop to the leg he’s kept out of view, and too late remembers who got Connie the hospital job.

“I heard you drop your keys, and it sounded like you were in pain,” you confess. “I’m a nurse, Javier. I can help if you need it.” Though apologetic, your tone is firm, face sincere as you offer him aid. Him, your grumpy neighbor who does nothing but leer at you.

Well, he isn’t that proud. Javier sighs, and opens the door further. Your eyes widen as you see the long slice in his pant leg, blood still damp around the wound beneath. “Shit, Javier, what happened? It doesn’t matter, shit, sit down.” You surge forward without waiting for permission, tucking yourself under the arm of his uninjured side and steering him toward a dining room chair. Where he’d been about to sit down down and tend to the cut himself. He supposes your apartments mirror each other, but your familiar reaction to the layout still surprises him.

“Whoa, hey, watch the whiskey,” he exclaims, flailing out the arm holding the glass, taken aback by your sudden manhandling. With one hand still occupied by the muffins, you direct him solely with an around his waist and your shoulder propped under his armpit. He couldn’t have resisted if he tried. If it weren’t for the fiery pain in his leg, your hold would have him feeling a very different kind of heat.

You give him a look that says you won’t be fooled by his blustering as you deposit him onto the chair and the plate on the table. “May I?” you ask, kneeling, hands hovering above his wound.

“Oh, now you’re asking permission?” He scoffs in disbelief but waves a hand in consent, leaning back in the seat.

You scoff right back at him. “Look, I see blood, I make the macho men sit, okay? Why didn’t you go to a hospital with this?”

Javier studies you as you carefully lift the denim to peer at the cut on his thigh. He takes a sip of whiskey to buy time (as well as dull the stinging pain). You’ve put on a robe over what looks like pajamas, but you seem too alert to have just dragged yourself from bed. And yet...was that a pillow mark on your cheek? Just there, arcing from your temple to your jaw…

“Javier?" you're looking up at him, a touch of confusion on your face.

“Did I wake you up?” he hears himself asking.

Her gaze drops again. “No,” you answer. “Well, yes, but I fell asleep on the couch, so it was a good thing.”

Ah, that explained the pillow mark.

Finally you stand. Your hands rest on your hips, heedless of your fingertips smudged red with his blood. “It doesn’t actually look too bad. I have enough supplies here to fix you up. You stay here, take off your pants if you can manage it by yourself, and I’ll be right back.” And with that you whisk away, robe swishing through his front door.

Javier remains where he is, a bit stunned by this turn of events, your sudden insertion into his life. He shakes his head. Maybe whiskey and blood loss shouldn’t go together. He tosses back the rest of his glass anyway in order to wrangle off his jeans.

By the time you return, he feels more composed, if rather uncomfortably vulnerable, sitting in just his boxers with a bloody slice across his thigh. He watches silently as you arrange various medical supplies on the table and pull up a chair across from him. You perch on the edge of it and look at him before doing anything else. “Are you gonna tell me how you got this?”

He’s not about to tell you it was a fluke accident during one of Carillo's interrogations. Somehow, while his back was turned, the guy got free and tried to escape, swinging a knife wildly as he hurled past Javier. The cut was long, ugly, but shallow. He’d live. He couldn’t say the same for the man who delivered it.

Javier considers his answer. “Can’t,” he says. “It’s better if you don’t know.” His gaze skitters away as he speaks.

He works for the government with a poker face like that? “Janitorial work, huh?” you say dryly. Sighing, you reach for the antiseptic. “At least tell me what made it. So I can treat it properly.” You look at him steadily.

Javier looks back for a long moment. “A knife,” he says at last.

You nod, and rip open a packet of gauze. He sucks air through his teeth as the antiseptic sears the wound clean, but otherwise doesn’t speak while you work. Which is fine. You notice he’s drained his glass, and you empathize. Frankly you wish you had a drink yourself right now.

Once you’ve cleaned the cut it’s easier to see the damage. Which is minimal, thankfully. Most of the blood was probably from him moving around when it happened. You explain what you’re doing as you seal the wound closed. Only when you’re almost finished does he speak.

“Why don’t you ever bake me anything?”

It’s so unexpected that your hands still. You stare at him in astonishment, waiting for him to elaborate.

“What I mean is…christ,” Javier mutters. The unflattering fluorescent light overhead highlights the dark circles under his eyes as he scrubs a hand over his face. “You always leave extras of stuff at Steve and Connie’s. Never here.” With me.

You resume your work on his thigh, surprised to feel a tinge of guilt. “You didn’t seem like a baked goods kind of guy,” you reply, hoping you don’t sound too defensive. It was true, after all. Though you never got a sense of threat from Javier, neither did he seem the type who would appreciate domestic gestures of friendship.

He didn’t look offended, however. I’ll try anything once,” he says, the ghost of a familiar smirk suggesting he’s feeling better. But then he leans forward, all traces of smirk vanishing. “And your lemon drizzle cake was incredible.” Javier looks at you seriously. His face is too close for your level of acquaintanceship, but you don’t move away.

Surprised, you assess him anew, wondering if you’re catching a glimpse of the man beneath all the masculine posturing. He’s nicer-looking this way, you muse. His face softer, brown eyes wide and sincere. You hide just how pleased you are at this insight (which you’re sure he has no idea he’s giving you) beyond allowing yourself a small smile.

“Well, maybe next time I’ll bring you some.”

Javier can’t quite find another quippy response, so he just gives a small nod, finding it hard to draw back even after you break his gaze. He tries not to fidget as you place a final strip of tape over the gauze bandage.

“There,” you declare, your work complete. “That should hold you for tonight.” You stand and gather up your supplies, giving him care instructions as you go. “Got it?” You seem much more relaxed than when you first arrived, confidence in your work squaring your shoulders. It’s…compelling, much more so than your usual reserved smiles in the hall.

“Yes ma’am.” Javier nods, not having heard a word. “…Thank you,” he adds, begrudgingly grateful.

You smile wryly at him. “Goodnight, Javier.”

You’ve nearly reached the door when he speaks again. “Javi.”

“Hm?” Pausing, you turn back to him.

He clears his throat. “You…you can call me Javi.”

Your smile is much warmer this time, brightening your eyes, and Javier feels his heart pound. “Goodnight, Javi.”

#javier peña x reader #javier peña x you #narcos fic #narcos #javier peña #pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters

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chifuyusgangshirt · 3 years ago

Note

Hello, I read your post and comments and I just wanted to let you know that I understand where you are coming from. I'm going to allude to assault in the most vague and broad way possible, exactly one (1) time in what follows at the very end, so trigger warning for that. You don't have to read any further, but I would like to apologize (if you decided not to go any further), I'm not out here trying to trick anyone into reading upsetting content. Don't be alarmed by the length of you decide to read this, I just don't know how to be brief (clearly). And you have no obligation to reply of course, if you stop here, have a good rest of your day and stay safe. 👍

I didn't tag 'tw etc', because I didn't want people to see that there was a blocked tag, click on it anyway (because that happens), read the first paragraph or so, and decide to not read the rest and send me a harassing statement without actually reading anything, because I have a negative opinion on an anime boy. Guess that happened anyway. And I did not expect to get any engagement besides maybe 5 likes and maybe a 'lol this is too long im not reading all that' reply. I did not think that anyone would actually take the time to read it, and I warned in the body of the text. I keep trying to go back and add some tw tags, but it's not working for whatever reason and I keep getting vile verbal abuse in my inbox and replies every few minutes, so I keep getting distracted blocking people tbh. It has been incessant. If anyone else is reblogging it and not tagging, I can't control other people. If excerpts are on other social media, I can't do anything about that. I will keep trying to get tags inserted into the original post. It took a few hours of trying to go back and add a disclaimer and take out a term when it was suggested to me, and it looks like the disclaimer added, but the term didn't get taken out from where I removed it after all, so I'm trying to resolve that too.

I genuinely don't want to upset anyone unintentionally, which is why I tried to give so many warnings within the body of the post. People have to know their own limits and take responsibility for their own mental health and close out of the post if they see things are going in a direction that may upset them. I can only do so much and I'm not responsible for others reading what I wrote and ignoring warnings. They can just block me. Please feel free to block me and you shouldn't see my post floating around again. Or block the 'please let this post or whatever I said' tag that was at the end of the post and it should remain hidden in reblogs. Do whatever is healthy for you.

I'm not a fandom blog. I literally have 3-4 people who ever interact with my posts and none of them care about Tokyo Revengers. I get like maybe 5 notifications maximum per day. I made another post about who in the series has dyed their hair (side blog, my main was broken at the time) a week or so ago, and I think it has only 6 notes right now? That's what I expected with this: a bunch of people ignoring it and being uninterested because I DO NOT have the following or reach to have a post even get a reblog. Plus it's long so I figured it would be a tldr for most who might have stumbled across it. I couldn't care less about being popular on tumblr dot com. I don't have anyone to talk to about this manga, so I put my thoughts out there hoping one person, who could handle it, might be interested in like a five message discussion about what I think is going on.

It blowing up is a complete surprise and unintentional anomaly. I gained about 120 followers out of nowhere and had to block at least 40, because they're all accounts made just to harass me. I did not give anyone permission to post it anywhere else and never ever wanted nor expected that. If people are getting upset or triggered by others repeating things I did NOT say, I can't do anything about that.

I'm well aware that the outcome of your intentions is more important than merely what those intentions were. So if you found my post triggering, I sincerely apologize.

It's pretty disturbing to me that so many people are going to bat so hard for a fictional person and saying that I'm not considering his background and that he might have been hurting too (I did, I just didn't write an extra ten more pages on it). He's not a real person, if he's someone's comfort character they should block a post that starts with 'I think Shinichiro was a bad guy. I understand where people wouldn't want to read bad things to happen to their favourite characters, but anything explaining why I think that with manga panels to help show how it could be possible that that may have been the case, was after the second giant trigger warning. And anyone who has been through something like this would see the warning signs in the questions I posed before the tldr, that stated non explicitly what I thought happened so people could turn back, and was immediately followed by trigger warnings.

They are not real people, it's fiction. But I am actually a real flesh and blood human being who spent a lot of time agonizing over where I think the story is headed. It takes an insane amount of time and effort to write up and edit that many pages. And nobody is taking the time to think maybe it was really hard on me mentally and emotionally to have all of these thoughts in my head. And that maybe, just maybe, I think what I do, due to some unfortunate experiences in my own life and that I do know what I'm talking about. Not a single consideration. I'm not fetishizing or romanticizing abuse (not saying that you're claiming that).

I hope everyone who reads this ask also reads my response to it. I think some of you should hear it.

This will be long, probably, first of all:

I don't know if someone ever came from me here to harass you -which I hope is not the case cause this is my sideblog and only for fun and games mostly, I don't have enough followers to think I could turn someone against another blog- but

Look if anyone did send you hate I hope you know I'm fully on your side. I don't want people to be mad at you, I don't want people to think you are the bad guy, I don't want anyone to go crazy over a fictional character and if anyone who follows me or I follow them is being mean or hateful I would unfollow them the same second I see it. There is no reason for anyone here to send you hate. I wanted to be clear to that from the start. I said it. And I can say it again as often as I feel like I should because it was never my wish nor idea to put you in a bad spotlight.

Secondly, while it's nice to see you care enough to come to me to apologize I don't think you need to. It's not like you hurt me here or anyone really. Maybe I think putting the warnings differently would have been better but that's it?

Now to your ask:

So, I think you meant the post about me wanting people to put better trigger warnings under a post?

I didn't mean you here. Well, I hoped it could be food for thought to put a tw in the tags because that usually helps the most when you post dark content but what made me feel a little uncomfortable was the fact that I saw your post and a few others with long reblogs and comments under it without a devider or whatever going into detail again and while I am able to do basic things like choosing to ignore posts it made me feel icky to always see the topic again on a silver plate. Does that make sense? That goes for a lot of posts btw. I see disturbing shit on here sometimes and don't even know how that happend.

That it is still a very explicit post, I stand by that. Will people read it and get triggerd half way through? Yes. And that's sad. It doesn't feel good. But it's not your fault.

What you said in your post and what it did to a few people is probably not what you wanted to bring out here.

See, people can have their opinion on your post you know, they can also feel uncomfortable that's just how it is. You don't have to explain yourself but I understand that you want to anyway because there are probably many people out there who try to come for you in a very fucking shitty way.

I started reading the post. I even got far but then it started to hit me and I stopped. I saw the warnings but not as good as I probably should have? Would have if?

Child abuse doesn't equal sexual assault for me -but I'm no native speaker so maybe that's just a me problem?

So I saw a few warnings but honestly didn't think it would go this dark until I came to the part where it started. And as I said, the relationship and sight on the characters and plot changes and you get reminded of things. That was my problem. People will read something and then realize what's happening and they are allowed to feel uncomfortable because trigger always work differently.

Mental health and trauma are heavy topics. Some people don't like how others talk about them while trying to fit them into fictional characters. I understand that too.

I don't think people who had personal issues with that blame you because they understand how the world works and that a trigger is not another persons fault (at least mostly but the moments where it is are very far away from this situation)

What I don't understand is when people lose their grasp on reality and get mad over a theory involving their favorite character. Again I'm with you on that.

I saw your post and never thought ever that you wanted to do anything else but putting your thoughts on tumblr, have fun and show that the manga leaves you with ideas you want to share with others and honestly you seem very passionate about it and that's cool. If you have personal experience of course you think a lot about it and want to gather this. It's normal.

Tiktok is a problem. People put shit on there without the creators consent and I'm sorry that happend to you.

I honestly don't know how I can help here you but if you have an idea you can tell me. If you need to talk or something or want people to delete their thoughts I can do that. It wouldn't be my favorite thing to do because it was a general idea for everyone to think more about warnings or deviders but especially after your ask I get that this must be a lot for you and if you feel better or it can help I gladly do it.

I never once saw you as the problem of this situation. It's tumblr. Tumblr is a hellsite and while I think it got a lot better and most of the tokyo revengers fandom is chill there are a few people who don't consider that the posts are made by real people- that everyone here is a living and breathing person.

I think this is all for now from my side. I think.

Thanks for reading

#discourse #tokyo revengers theory #put it again just for extra safety #tw: abuse #tw: sa

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whimperwoods · 4 years ago

Text

Part 13 of Gozukk and Anna

Gozukk calms down from his nightmare. Anna learns something new.

The masterpost is here and includes a cheat sheet with character names/relationships.

tw: past slavery, tw: past abuse, tw: PTSD

Let me know if you want to be added to the taglist!

Tag list: @redwingedwhump, @nine-tailed-whump, @thehurtsandthecomfurts @kixngiggles, @bluebadgerwhump, @dragonheart905, @carolinethedragon, @whumpzone, @newbornwhumperfly, @cupcakes-and-pain, @much-ado-about-whumping, @winedark-whump

****

Anna’s legs were shaking as she followed Gozukk to a set of straw-filled targets and watched him string a bow. She stayed out of his reach, shrinking back and wondering what kind of a fool she was, following her new master while he was still upset.

But then again, he talked like he wasn’t her master, at all.

He’d invited her here, held open the tent flap for her, but now it was like she wasn’t even here. He was focused intently on what he was doing, not sparing her a glance as he tested the bowstring and grabbed a set of semi-blunted arrows.

She backed up farther, out of his way, as he found a spot for himself at a decent range from the target he’d chosen.

His first several shots were lightning fast, and she felt shivers run through her as they thunked into the target almost at random, making satisfying sounds but sticking out near the edges of the target, one too far left and the next too far right, thunk, thunk, thunk, like Gozukk just needed to shoot, not to hit the center.

Foolish. This was foolish. She knew better. She knew men didn’t keep their anger tightly focused, knew it splattered out around them and splashed over her, but she also knew that being too obvious about trying to hide, now that she’d been fool enough to follow, was an equally dangerous proposition.

His breathing was still a little ragged, emotional and loud, and she realized only when a quiet growl broke from him that he was holding back noises, perhaps shouts, perhaps more of those growls.

She crouched down, trying to be small. Leaving would make him angry, especially if he didn’t know where she’d gone. But all of a sudden, she couldn’t stand to be out in the open, not like this, not with a weapon in Gozukk’s hands and what kind of fool was she? She shuddered again, her whole body reacting to the idea.

Gradually, Gozukk’s pace slowed, and then his breathing, and the shots, now steady and less frantic, drew closer and closer to the center of the target. Finally, he shot the last two arrows with slow and careful aim, breathing with his motions and hitting the center ring and then the center dot.

He lowered the bow and turned toward her.

“Thanks,” he said, managing an almost sheepish smile. “I’m - I don’t usually have an audience for this. Not since I was a kid, anyway. I’m a better shot when I’m trying, don’t worry.”

His grin was clearly meant to be reassuring, but there was something about it that was false in a way that told her, suddenly, that his smiles had been real before.

She shuddered again, forcing herself to stay put and smile back, but Gozukk’s brow creased, concerned.

He put down the bow and held his hands up, his palms out toward her. “Hey. I didn’t mean to scare you,” he said, “I - Sorry.”

She wanted to shrink backward, away, but the concern on his face . . . the concern was real, too, almost certainly. She bit her lip, not sure what to say, and stayed put.

“I shouldn’t have asked you along,” he said softly, “I was being selfish. Not wanting to be by myself. But of course it looks intimidating.”

Gozukk was upset. Last night, she’d have flinched, even thinking it. But tonight - tonight he was upset, and he was sad, not angry. She breathed slowly and carefully, steadying herself.

“It’s alright,” she answered softly, “I, umm - I’m alright.”

“You’re welcome to take a few shots, if you want. I’m not so vain as all that, you know.” He sounded strained, like the joke took effort to make, but at least if he was trying to make her feel better . . . well, at least he was trying to make her feel better!

She took another careful, steady breath. “Oh, no, Gozukk,” she said, managing at the last moment not to call him Sir, “I’m umm - I don’t know how, anyway.”

Gozukk’s brow furrowed and she found herself blushing. It was a struggle not to avert her eyes, and she couldn’t stop herself from rounding her shoulders, shrinking inward.

“Would you like to learn? It might make you feel more safe.”

For a moment, she stared, struggling to make sense of the question.

“Is that why you didn’t take the knife, that first day?” Gozukk asked, “You don’t know how to fight?”

She shook her head, no.

“No, you don’t know how to fight, or no, that’s not why?”

Her heart was racing in her chest. There was no way to answer that would be guaranteed to please him. She couldn’t think her way out of it, couldn’t work out how to make the danger of it go away.

Shaking slightly, she decided to tell the truth. “B-both, Gozzuk. I - I don’t know how to fight and I didn’t -” She finally lowered her eyes to the ground, lacking the strength to keep looking up at him, “I didn’t want you to think I was - I wanted you to know I knew my place. I wanted you to know I would, um - I guess just stay.”

Gozukk was silent, but his eyes were still open, soft, taking her in without judgment.

After a moment, he said, “If you wish to leave, I will send you with an escort when I can.” His voice was soft, warm, “And if you wish to stay, I can teach you anything you want to know. Or I can’t, and someone else can. I don’t plan to send you into danger. I don’t plan to send you anywhere. But if you want to be able to defend yourself, I can help with that, too.”

She bit her lip. Everything here was so much. There were so many people, so many possibilities, so many dangers, and so many budding hopes, and she didn’t know what to do with any of them.

She did know they were standing in front of a set of targets, and agreeing to a lesson would put off the other questions, as if they’d never been asked, because she’d answered the first one instead.

“I - I think I’d like to learn to shoot. It’s - it seems -” she steadied herself, still looking down, but breathing steadily. “I think I can do it.”

Gozukk started unstringing his bow, and she looked up, confused.

He smiled, his face soft in the moonlight, and looked fond. “Mine’s too strong. We’ll get you started with one of the ones we keep to teach the kids before they make their own.”

She nodded, creeping tentatively closer. Something in the back of her mind was still screaming at her, screaming not to get closer to a master with a weapon in hand, screaming that this was a test, that she was failing, failing, going to be punished. She kept breathing, and moved forward. It was safe. Gozukk wanted her safe. He’d said so.

Moving didn’t make the voice in the back of her mind go away, but watching him finish unstringing his bow and put it down quieted it a little.

He moved slowly, cautiously, and she knew it, knew he was trying not to frighten her. She blushed again, trying to keep breathing, keep upright, keep everything steady like he wanted, like - like she wanted? Gozukk came toward her with a smaller bow, un-strung, and a string and quiver to go with it.

“Here,” he said, “We might as well start with stringing it yourself, so you’ll know how to do that if you need to.”

She nodded, taking the bow from him, and letting him guide her through the process. It was strange, having something in her hand that she knew was a weapon, and strange, too, knowing that the strong hands beside hers were helping her make it dangerous.

It was reassuring, in a way, to focus on a thing in her hands, a concrete task, and she almost understood why Gozukk had come out here, until the bow was strung and he was letting her pull on the string to test out how it felt, his hands still hovering near her. It wasn’t hard to pull back, really, but the tension of it was obvious, and all of a sudden, the knowledge of what it was flooded through her again, a feeling of danger.

Her hands shook, and Gozukk placed his gently over hers. “We don’t have to do this,” he said, so close to her that she could almost feel the rumble of his voice in her skin, “If you’re not ready, you don’t have to do this.”

There were two choices. Two choices, and her mind was too full of screaming and confusion to think them through, and something deep answered instead, an impulse at the core of her she couldn’t explain. “No,” she whispered, “I can do this.”

He nodded.

Once the decision was made, the whole cacophony inside her quieted, unsustainable and burned out. All that remained was what she was doing, and when she didn’t think about what that was, everything else was quiet.

Gozukk stood behind her, giving soft instructions, helping her adjust her stance, hold the bow, nock an arrow. He didn’t touch her when he could explain, and his hands were warm and gentle when he couldn’t, his huge body close enough to her back for her to feel the warmth, to feel the way he blocked the cool night breeze that blew around them.

She focused on what she was doing, on following directions.

“Here, like this. We don’t want the string hitting you in the forearm.”

“There, good, just like that.”

“Keep breathing, even when you’re focused on aiming.”

Her first shot missed the target, but only by a little bit, and she could hear a smile in Gozukk’s voice as he exclaimed, “Good! That’s closer than a lot of first shots. Do you want to try again?”

She nodded and let him hand her another arrow, guide her through the process again, remind her to breathe.

The arrow hit the very edge of the target, barely sticking into the canvas on the opposite side from where she’d missed last time.

Gozukk chuckled, “At this rate, you’ll be better than me, too. Another?”

She blushed, but this time her chest was warm, and what had been a tremble in her hands was now just barely in her fingers, and only when she wasn’t focused on the shot.

Her aim didn’t get better as quickly or steadily as Gozukk’s had when he was calming down, but several hit quite solidly, and as she focused only on the one thing, the new motions, the new feeling of her arms aching slightly from pulling against the tension of the string, of making it do what she wanted, the target in front of her, she felt the storm inside her drift farther away.

When the small training quiver was empty, she realized Gozukk’s hand was still on her shoulder, resting lightly, not grabbing hold, and she let herself lean slightly backward into him.

He wrapped his arms around her, still gentle, his grasp so loose she knew she could get out with just a step, and she breathed deeply, sighing outward.

“I never knew something like this was - like this,” she said softly.

She wasn’t sure what she meant by that. She wasn’t sure how to say it better without saying too much.

She felt Gozukk’s voice vibrating where her back was up against his chest. “I can understand that,” he answered, “I feel it, too. At least, I do at night, like this. I do when it’s just canvas.”

“I guess now we go find the arrows?” she asked.

“Even the ones that missed didn’t miss by much,” Gozukk answered, his arms already moving away from her again, and then they were separate in the moonlight, cleaning up the small range in silence.

#whump #fantasy whump #d&d whump #hurt/comfort #fluff #past slavery tw #ptsd tw #I've known this was going to happen for a while and been dying to write it #so pleased that I've finally gotten to it #turns out Anna's well suited to Gozukk's particular coping methods #also our girl's never gonna be a go-out-there-and-find-a-fight warrior but work on her self-efficacy has officially begun #she's gonna be surprised that she's a little sore in the morning though because she does do/has done plenty with her arms #it's just this exact thing she hasn't and did do quite a bit of

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xiaoquanquans · 4 years ago

Text

at my disposal

sypnosis : y/n and chishiya became allies after y/n had saved chishiya from getting killed in a game of tag . they helped each other stay alive in the borderlands while also collecting all the needed cards to return back to the real world . after following chishiya around religiously , y/n had fallen hard for chishiya and he had explained to her that he did not care for her and would do anything to keep himself alive . all the remaining players had split out to collect the face cards . y/n and chishiya were focusing on completing the diamond cards . but chishiya did what he had to survive .

tw warnings : swearing , manipulation , death , betrayal , mentions of alcohol , self harm , blood , depression ( do not read if you somehow relate to the tw’s , i genuinely care okay ? take care of yourself bby 🖤 )

notices :

• MANGA SPOILERS!!

• mixed pov’s

• the game announcer speaks in bold and sly remarks or important sentences are written in italic

• lowercase

• this ff might be a bit confusing , because it’s a knowledge diamond based game

• chishiya’s true nature / canon chishiya

• gender neutral reader

• not proof-read

—

the game that we will be playing is the keynesian beauty contest . difficulty K♦️. henceforth, the rules shall be explained . within one minute all of you will pick a number from 0 to 100 . after everyone has entered their numbers , an average number will be taken from the addition of the numbers of all the 5 players . the player that has the closest number to the average number will be the winner and earn one point.

here we were , all five of us facing each other at this pentagon shaped table awaiting for our deaths . the rules were simple , win or die .

if you get an answer wrong you’ll receive -1 point. it’s game over for those who reach -10 points.

kuzuryuu keiichi , the third highest executive at the Beach was directly facing me , chishiya was to my left and an additional two players as well .

benzo, an wise old man and hinako a snobby looking woman .

upon heading the rules it was obvious that only one of us would make it out alive . i wished that i had known that before entering the courthouse .

i turned to face chishiya only to see him sneering at keiichi.

only one player will make it out alive .

chishiya

why was he so special to me , so intriguing .

i was the one who saved him but for some reason i’m also the one following him around .

i was a smart person , i figured it out quick .

it was obvious to me that i was in love with him , and he noticed it as well .

one day , we were both hanging around the poolside of the Beach far away from each other when we exchanged glances .

not long after he made his way towards me and pulled me aside .

he stared me blankly into my eyes , no emotion portrayed through them . listen , i’ve seen the way you’ve been looking at me and it’s genuinely really annoying but you have to know .

i do not like you , i don’t want to like you and i never will . if we were in a bad situation i would not hesitate to sacrifice you to safe myself . i would use you at my disposal if i had to so stop giving me those looks , you should know that i hate them and i do not care about you .

after that day , we rarely exchanged words . but for some reason i still kept following him around . he was cold to everyone else , i wasn’t anyone special . but god forbid him , he was just so unique to me . he couldn’t keep me away from him and his god complex even if he wanted to .

before i could speak up i was quickly outspoken by keiichi .

“ you’ve all heard the rules . if you have no further questions we will continue and start the game. ”

chishiya snickered. he knew that it was going to be him . he knew that he was clever and he showcased that every chance he could .

he knew he would be the one to walk away from the court with the card in his hand . the K of diamonds would just merely be another addition to his substantial stack of cards that he had collected or as some might say , stole .

the first few rounds had passed and everyone had gotten the hang of the game . it was simple to everyone in the room . all you had to do was get the calculations right in the time limit of 5 minutes .

hinako spoke up , “ so this game , is merely a deduction of how far the opponents can calculate? ”

i let out a quiet laugh , everyone had already registered that after the first round and here she was only figuring it out now .

you made a bet with yourself , she’d be the first one out , if not the second .

“ but what we’re reading isn’t mentality but rationality . ” chishiya replied .

after a few rounds the tables weren’t turning , keiichi had been winning every round because of his solid strategy of everyone keying in either 0 or 1 . someone had to do something or else we’d all lose to him .

so i realised i had to change it up a bit .

i quickly inputted the number 100

it took everyone by surprise , i knew i had no chance of winning because 100 was definitely too far from the average but i inspired the rest to take part in what i was doing while also taking away keiichi’s advantage.

a few more rounds passed and both Benzo and Hinako had reached -9 points . I was on -7 and Chishiya was on -8 . Keiichi was leading with -4 points .

Both Benzo and Hinako were one point away from death , so they had to be extra careful in the next round .

Unfortunately for them , they guessed a number that was too off from the answer , causing the acid on top of them to pour down , melting and disintegrating their bodies until they were gone .

Chishiya smirked at it . Their lives had meant nothing to them and so did yours . He knew what he had to do after this . How he could ensure his survival by taking you out .

and here you were , in the pitch black bar of the Beach . gulping down bottles of alcohol , trying your best to forget about what had happened . you weren’t weak , you kept telling yourself that even if you didn’t believe it . but deep down you knew you were .

once you were done with your bottle you slammed it against the counter , breaking it into hundreds of shards .

you took the biggest one you could find and lifted up your sleeve .

this wouldn’t be your first mark, your arm was filled with lines that were distinct in width from past experiences that you had before coming to the Borderlands .

before you could hesitate you did it . the glass shard sliced it’s way through your skin with ease .

you dropped the shard out of pain causing it to break off into many smaller pieces .

once again you scavenged for more alcohol , looking for fire whiskey which was something that could help numb the pain .

after minutes of searching you finally found a bottle-

“ y/n what happened , why is the whole bar in a mess? ”

you turned around to face kuina , a look of worry was displayed all over her face .

she made eye contact for a moment before looking down towards your arm .

“ what were you thinking? ” you heard her mutter .

she quickly took the bottle of whiskey out of your hand and placed it on the counter , after that she slowly brought you to the other side of the bar due to there being shards of glass everywhere on the floor.

once she sat you down she went to look for a medkit, leaving you to yourself and your thoughts . kuina took as little time as she could because she knew you weren’t in the right state of mine to be alone .

once she found the kit she rushed back to the bar , only to find that you’ve fainted from the all the loss of blood . it was a thin cut line but a very deep one , it looked like you might have even accidentally cut off a vein .

after you had woke up the next day you and kuina had a long talk and after that you felt much better .

until you ran into chishiya again on the same day.

since there are only 3 players remaining , a new rule will be added into the game. if two players pick the same number they will both get -2 points .

i was already on -8 , meaning any wrong choice would lead me to my death .

picking 0 or 1 would definitely lead me to my death , so I’ll choose a random number between 2 and 100

how about , 62 .

the results are in , chishiya is the winner , number 23.

y/n ( -10points )

chishiya (-8 points )

keiichi ( -7 points )

and that was it ,

endgame for me .

before accepting my death i had one question , how did he figure out i was going to pick 23 .

and as if he read my thoughts , chishiya spoke up .

“in order to distance yourself you would’ve picked a number in between 2 to 100 because 0 or 1 had the highest chances of being duplicates .

after clearing all the possibilities of you picking a random number i was left with 62 and 74.

and i chose between those , and to my luck you picked 62 and all i had to do from there was divide 62 in half . leaving me with 23.

with this , a player has reached -10 points , it is now game over for that participant .

chishiya laughed , “ like i said you’re at my disposal , should have listened the first time . ”

and those were the last words i heard before meeting my end .

- END -

tags: @donnyhateslife @hvrriicane @myloveforchishiya ( dm to be added to tag list )

oui oui love yall 💖

#chishiya #chishiyaxreader #aliceinborderland #imawanokuninoalice #chishiyashuntaro #shuntarochishiya #chishiyacult #aib #aibsimps #aib reader #alice in borderland gifs #xreader

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killerhatcanons · 5 years ago

Note

Could u do a childhood friends hc with Trapper, The Shape and Ghostface?? 🥺🥺

Of course my friend! uwu

So we can imagine most of Michael‘s and Trapper‘s childhoods but I don’t think Danny has much of a background lore going as far soo I‘d personally also put him into a difficult household (even though I wish it were different) I also think I’ll put this one into a text form

TW: idek what to tag this with but I’m guessing abuse/domestic violence

The Trapper (Evan MacMillan)

Evan had always in a way idolized his father and his father had never deemed anyone worthy to get close to his son. Needless to say Evan didn’t have many friends at all when he was young. The other children were scared of his father and the stories their parents had told them about the MacMillan family. They were gruesome, as much as a parent would allow their child to hear but enough to ensure they would never want to get close to the MacMillan child.

You had always thought it was unfair. It wasn’t Evan’s fault that his dad was mean and you didn’t want him to sit alone over something he wasn’t responsible for. So you approached him and you kept approaching him even as he tried to push you away. He knew about the stories and he himself knew very well that his father wasn’t the kindest person. Time and time again had his father hit him for not following his orders, had thrown away his sketches and sent him to bed on an empty stomach as a punishment. He understood why others feared his father and he didn’t blame them. Even though he loved his father, he also despised him. He knew no one but him would endure his father’s punishments so when the tiny you approached him he tried his best to push you away. You were far too fragile, you couldn’t get close to him or his father.

But you didn’t care. No matter how many times he rudely sent you away you always returned. And as time passed he felt himself slowly growing fond of you. You were nice to him, the only person that made him feel warm and he didn’t want you to leave him anymore. He wanted to keep your kindness, to keep the warmth you made him feel through the utter coldness he was accustomed to. So he allowed you to stay if only for a while which soon became longer and longer.

You played together in elementary school and he would protect you from anyone that even attempted to bully you. Or ask you out for that matter. He soon had to realize that he grew more and more possessive of you, that he didn’t want anyone to take you away from him. You had been with him since the beginning, had shown him kindness and understanding, had been there for him and took care of the bruises his father kept giving him. As cheesy as this sounded you had been his sun all along, naturally and selflessly giving him warmth without ever being asked to. His one and only friend.

Shit I might need to turn this into a fiction maybe? haha we’ll see

The Shape (Michael Meyers)

Michael had always been the silent child in your kindergarten group. First everyone thought he was just a little shy but you soon realized that he simply refused to speak. Of course your teacher tried to convince him to talk, even had a meeting with his parents but they assured that he learned speaking, however at one point simply stopped any form of communication. To the adults he was a hopeless case. They tried desparately to change him, but he wouldn’t budge.

To you he was a welcome friend. You didn’t mind his silence, you knew he was listening to you and you could still play together. Well, it was mostly you telling him what to do with the toys, because he himself wouldn’t do anything besides holding them in his hand, but that wasn’t much of an issue to you.

Of course you tried to get him to play with your other friends too, but his lack of enthusiasm often got in the way and the other kids got scared of his silent and emotionless behavior. However, even when they told you to, you refused to stop playing with Michael. Yes, he was a little odd, but that didn’t make him a bad child (killing his sister later lowkey did tho oop) so you didn’t want him to be alone. Everyone needs some company, right?

Over time you noticed, that he would remember what you had told him to do with the toys, instead of simply holding them, to which you would give him a big smile.

This improvement you saw in his behavior made you even sadder when one day he stopped coming to the kindergarten. At first you had thought he was sick, but weeks went on without a single trace of him or his parents.

Upon asking you own they had told you he was sent to another kindergarten instead, that was specialized on children like him. You were sad of course, but you accepted it, hoping he would find more friends to play with now.

You only later found out he was sent to an asylum instead of another kindergarten.

The Ghostface (Danny Johnson)

Danny Johnson did not have the nicest childhood imaginable. After her divorce his mother didn’t become directly abusive to him, more so the alcohol.

He liked to think that the slurring woman bruising him wasn’t his mother, that it was simply someone else, someone more aggressive trying to be her. He didn’t want to think his mother hated him, he didn’t want to believe she would bruise him, would shout at him and blame him for what had happened to her marriage.

Even as a young boy he knew to cover his bruises. He loved his mother, he didn’t want her to be alone even though the woman the alcohol brought out of her hurt him in every way possible. But it was his fault right? His dad didn’t want him so he left him and his mother. He was responsible and the least he thought he could do was let her let out her pain on the person responsible for her misery.

In school he didn’t talk much to anyone. He was a rather shy kid, not wanting to cause anymore trouble for anyone. At lunch he sat alone, but he didn’t mind. He also didn’t mind being called weird or gross for his greasy long hair or the bags under his eyes. Not that he wanted to talk to anyone about himself anyways. Not even to you as you approached him.

You had watched him sit alone for a long time. He looked sad, restless, sometimes even scared and despite not even knowing him, it hurt you to see anyone in this state. So you went to talk to him. However, it took a while for him to stop avoiding you as best as he could and he eventually opened up to you a bit. He still didn’t tell you about the abuse until you reached middle school, but when he did you were determined to help him, to clear his understanding of him not being responsible for anything and to get him a new home.

With the help of your parents you were able to get him out of his household and soon find a acquainted family that was willing to take him in. The Olsens tried their best to provide him with everything he needed. And while you knew it would take time for him to heal, you were relieved he was part of a loving family now, that would help him back onto a safe track.

You couldn’t have known that the damage to Danny’s brain had already been done and there was no way of saving him from the twisted prison of his own mind.

OOK THESE ARE WAY DARKER THAN YOU PROBABLY WANTED BUT I OOP GOT CARRIED AWAY

I can attempt to make it more wholesome a second time if you want these were just the most logical things that came to my mind haha... honestly idk but I usually think that someone isn’t just yk born a killer (except Michael maybe pfft) so I came up with some uhm logical upbringings to the boys haha yeet..

Anyways I’m considering turning the Evan and Ghosty one into their own separate story thingsies. Kinda hard to do something with Michael bc uhm Psychiatry but possibly something with a reader that’s also in treatment or we pull a Harley Quinn sometime who knows!

For now I hope you aren’t too mad that this was so... dark instead of cute oop >:)) if you’re mad just let me die on the hook next time pffft

#evan macmillan #evan macmillan x reader #the shape #the shape x reader #the trapper #the trapper x reader #trapper #trapper x reader #michael meyers #michael meyers x reader #danny johnson #danny johnson dbd #danny johnson x reader #dbd killers #dbd #dbd headcanons #the ghostface #the ghostface x reader #pre-entity

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thecindy · 4 years ago

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Three a.m.

Izuku and Gran Torino have a talk

Rating: General Audiences

Words: 1,322

Ao3

This does contain manga spoilers for chapter 306, and it alludes to some of what happens in previous chapters.

__________________

Izuku hates three a.m.

Three a.m. meant he was either up too late or awoken too early. He spent most of his life avoiding three a.m. in a desperate attempt to maintain a decent sleep schedule. But at this moment, three a.m. was the ideal time for what he was about to do.

He had been in this hospital long enough to know the shift rotation by heart. He knew when the nurses and doctors did their rounds. He knew when housekeeping would mop the floors. He knew when the kind night shift nurse with golden hair and silver eyes would poke her head into his room to make sure he was sleeping. But most importantly, he knew when the nurses station on the way to the stairwell that exited into the parking garage would be vacant.

Tomorrow he was scheduled to be discharged and escorted back to UA to be with the rest of his class and his mother. His injuries now fully healed, he was expected to return to school and begin his second year as a hero student. But Izuku had decided weeks ago, the moment he woke up after his time with the predecessors, that he wouldn't be going back to UA. It wasn't safe. With the target on his back and with Shigaraki's - All For One's? - use of Ragdoll's search quirk, he would bring nothing but more fighting, more pain, and more death upon his friends, his classmates, his teachers... his family.

So tonight was the night. His last chance to save everyone he cared about from his own fate. He refused to let anyone else get hurt because of his cursed quirk. Truthfully, he had planned and had been ready to go several days ago, but the idea of a few more nights in a soft bed, and a few more hot meals had been far too tempting.

Izuku was alone tonight which made his plan a lot simpler. His mother had gone home to finish packing for the move to UA, and Izuku had insisted All Might - who had spent many a restless night in an uncomfortable hospital chair keeping watch over his successor - go sleep in his own bed with assurances that he would be alright on his own and that he would see him tomorrow. Izuku doesn't remember when he became so good at lying, the thought unsettled him a little bit. It hurt to deceive his mentor like this but he knew it was the only way.

Now or never.

Just after three a.m., like clockwork, he hears the door to his room slide open. He's careful to keep his eyes closed and his breathing even so as not to raise suspicion. Satisfied that he's alright and asleep the nurse slides the door closed again.

Izuku counts to 60 and as quietly as he can he slips out of bed. Under the flimsy hospital pajamas he's already wearing the clothes his mother brought for him to wear upon discharge - a soft t-shirt and pair of basketball shorts. Using a small percentage of One For All he rips off the hospital bracelet just in case it's the kind that could set off alarms, and knowing the security in this place that's pretty likely. After neatly folding his pajamas and leaving a thank you note to the hospital staff he slings his backpack over his shoulder and steps into the empty hall, normally bright lights dimmed for the night.

Left down the hall, one left and then a right and he'll reach the stairwell, which hopefully is kept unlocked from the inside, he hasn’t had a chance to check. He's memorized the floorplan on this level after his many circuits walking around it as part of his physical therapy.

He makes it past the empty nurses station and the left turn when he stops to check the patient name on a door. So Gran Torino hasn't been discharged yet. Izuku feels a lump form in his throat as the guilt washes over him. He knows it’s his fault so many people got hurt, one of them being All Might's teacher - his own teacher.

Noting that the lights are off in the room he slides the door open and quietly steps inside. He unbuckles his backpack and pulls out the letter on top addressed to the man who first helped him reign in the power of One For All. As silently as possible he pads over to the bedside table and gently places the letter next to a vase of wilted flowers.

He is across the room with his hand on the door handle when a voice cuts through the silence. "I ain't gonna read that shit. If you got somethin to say, say it to my face."

Izuku winces and turns to face the small man now sitting up in bed. "I'm sorry. I didn't realize you were awake. It's late."

"Yeah, well, when you get to be my age and you spend enough time in one of these germ factories you start to realize time is pretty meaningless."

"I see." Izuku swallows around the lump in his throat and grips the straps of his backpack tight. While any outward injury on Gran Torino's body seems to have been healed, he can't help but notice the dark circles below his usually masked eyes. And has he gotten even smaller?

"So what's in the envelope kid?" Gran Torino gestures toward the bedside table. "Ain't trying to poison me are ya? Get rid of me for good?"

"What! No!" Izuku cringes at the unintentional volume of his outburst. Then quieter, "it's just a letter. What normal people put in envelopes."

"When have we ever been normal people, eh?"

He allows himself a small laugh, "You got me there."

"Then why are you sneaking around a hospital in the middle of the night leaving letters for old men?" Gran Torino prodded.

Izuku is silent for a moment as he stares at his shoes. Setting his brow he raises his head to meet the older man's eyes. "I think you know why."

Gran Torino continues to meet his gaze before sighing deeply and dragging a large palm down his face. "This is the part where I'm supposed to talk you out of whatever half-baked, hair-brained, nonsense idea you got in that thick skull of yours."

"I have to go, Gran." Izuku could now feel tears threatening to spill down his cheeks. "I can't let anyone else get hurt because of me."

"I know you think you have to do this, and we both know I'm not exactly in a state where I can stop you, but there are other ways, kid. You don't have to do this alone."

Gran Torino's words hang heavy in the quiet hospital air. "I'm sorry," Izuku says after a beat. "I'm sorry but I do."

"If you decide to come to your senses you know where to find me." Gran Torino sighs again.

Tears are falling now. "Thank you, Gran Torino." the green haired boy manages to choke out. "Thank you for everything. Thank you for showing me how to make this quirk my own."

Wiping his eyes with the back of his hand, afraid Gran Torino really will find a way to talk him out of it, Izuku makes for the door again.

"Hey kid."

Izuku turns back just in time to catch the ball of cloth being tossed at him.

"Who are you?"

In his arms Izuku finds a familiar tattered yellow cowl. He clutches the garment to his chest and tries to convey every emotion he feels, every ounce of conviction he has in his voice, "I'm the hero who is going to save everyone."

__________________

With a final bow to his mentor, Izuku steps out into the empty hospital hallway. Unnoticed,

he finds his way to the - thankfully unlocked - stairwell and disappears into the night.

Notes:

This was very self-indulgent. I saw Izuku with Gran's cape and my brain filled in the rest for me.

Not beta'd, so if you see any mistakes or typos please gently let me know so I can fix them 😅

Also I never know how to tag fics, so also let me know tag suggestions or any tw/cw tags I should add.

Thanks for reading!

#bnha #mha #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #izuku midoriya #gran torino #deku #midoriya izuku #torino sorahiko #sorahiko torino #cindy writes #bnha chapter 306 spoilers

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floralkittygambler · 4 years ago

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HuskerDust - More Toxic Than You Think [LONG]

This is the rough version of a deeper and more complex subject I want to ‘decorate’ with more ‘screencaps’. DISCLAIMER: This is allegedly controversial and led to me getting literal death threats and an ED triggered. Ive about heard a lot of people’s shit on this so dont try it. I’m speaking from personal experiences too - experiences I really fuckin dont wanna be sharin yet they kinda validate my points. I want people to be aware of the damaging image from someone who can speak from experience without attracting dickheads or people twisting things. Again, I aint particularly comfortable sharing this so yeah- Be courteous- TW AHEAD - ALSO LONG ASS READ. DNI STANS OR ANTIS. May tag a few folks, may not. HuskerDust is an extremely popular ship in the community however there’s glaringly obvious flaws in this one-sided relationship that both the fans and even the team fail to see. Neglecting the dangerous real world implications this ship [as well as many others] present to it’s audience - especially the more influenced of the audience, most who are children.

Angel flirts with all the male cast however one who catches his eye the most is Husk. Now I want to point out a few things [of many... obviously]; Angel is instantly starry eyed upon seeing Husk, likewise he actually started off with a ‘Hey~’ instead of something sexual. However he quickly ruins this after Husk tells him to go fuck himself [defined by: “ go fuck yourselfphrase of fuckVULGAR SLANGan exclamation expressing anger or contempt for, or rejection of, someone.” ie, he rejected instantly] by responding with an offer to allow Husk to essentially watch him masterbate. Alongside this, he cradles his face. Husk pulls away and seems to pull a face to express rage/disgust or growling imagery alongside COMPLETELY withdrawing his body away from Angel as Angel stares with goo-goo eyes. Firstly, Angel loves animals - perhaps it’s Husk appearing cute that adds to this, however Im not going to address animal imagery just yet. Secondly, Angel isn’t really portrayed to respect other’s boundaries BUT he does respect... Alastor’s. Al declines the blowjob to which Angel shrugs and doesn’t push this matter any further. With Husk, he’s pretty harshly told to piss off yet he makes quite and explicitly sexual remark, alongside invading his personal space and touching a man clearly disinterested and pulling away. From the initial rejection, it then becomes sexual harassment. I also want to add that Husk comes with [some] perks in his feline form. And if my name didnt make it obvious, I work with and live with cats on a daily. Briefly, I have been educated in how to understand cat’s language in various individual cat as well as how to handle and work with them. Cats are often drawn towards me and Ive been successful with various types of cats. My most recent being a cat I’ve dubbed as Big - Big was abandoned quite young and has lived most his life on the streets [where I live is high in crime and drug rings, so you can imagine how strays are treated] leading to him being extremely fearful and hating people, hissing and fleeing just seeing people. I took time out last summer to finally give befriending him a shot. It’s taken just under a year of hard work and now he visits every day for his mush [wet food] and kisses, responds to his name and runs up to me in delight. Ive even taught him a phrase to signal that I dont want him or the other cat’s to fight [keeps them all safe and aids them becoming acquainted under supervision - something that’s been working surprisingly well]. I apologise in advance as this is not going to be the first instance of this sort of thing but they are relevant. Trying my best to keep it as brief. For Husk, I will be using a mix of cat and human characteristics to break down his reactions. In this first interaction, he turns his body away in a way to suggest caution, wariness and disinterest. In fact, much of his general body language is that of a man deeply closed off from connections - for starters, he folds his arms quick a bit which suggests lack of openness, shutting off and defensiveness *usually*. Likewise, when touched, he slightly jumps and tenses before pulling back in aggression with flattered ears - a sign cats give to display extreme hostility in a situation. It’s NEVER a good thing but then again, neither is crossing someone’s boundaries. It’s even stated that Husk hates Angel’s advances and wishes for nothing to do with him - the same dislike of sexual advances that Al dislikes in Angel. The ending as they all walk inside, Angel turns to Husk, winking and blowing a kiss his way despite the clear rejection earlier. In fact, Husk once again grows tense and is even irked by such a gesture. This won’t be the last mention of Angel totally disregarding how Husk feels - something that rubs off onto the fans AND the team themselves. And it’s... *concerning*, to phrase it lightly. Angel so far is the most persistent towards the most resistant, and in my post on RadioDust I have already established [briefly] on how Angel seems to chase unavailable men. The more unavailable, the more tempting. The one that got away, mentality. It’s not healthy. And I’m surprised so few have acknowledged this. Taking a break from what we’ve seen in the Pilot, let’s establish some facts about the pair. Angel died in 1947 in his 30s [some posts specify 34-35], putting his birth year around 1911-12ish. Husk died in the 70s IN his 70s [again, nothing is truly specified, so for both we’ll go with 75 - the same number in his IG username] that puts birth year roughly 1900′s. Now an age gap between two adults of 11 - 12 years difference is actually reasonable and can work, depending on circumstance and whether theres a balance in power or not. But when we account for their life experiences and death ages, it’s something else entirely. Angel died young. Not only that but his mind seems more stuck in his raunchy teens than of an adult. And even THEN, he wouldnt be one to necessarily settle down [by which I mean in life, not romance]. He’s extremely emotionally stunted and his selfishness and wanting his own way come off very spoilt [when Husk is pissed off about the cat costume, Angel gets moody because he’s used to compliments AND is dressing to impress Husk. When Husk wanted the money he was rightfully owed, Angel threw a fit for ages until starting to earn it back - even though he owed Husk a drink, which I’ll be coming back to, Husk still wanted the money in the end perhaps hinting to only accepting a freebie as it’s on offer as well as Angel being overly persistent. He even dumps his pig onto Husk to look after, while theres no issue in pet sitting, Angel said Husk ‘owed’ him due to missing the show yet when HE owed Husk, he threw a fit.]. Angel’s life style is wildly chaotic in life AND death, and even though we all know he’s most likely going to be redeemed, he still lacks a lot of experiences in life. He lacks maturity. On the other hand, Husk’s been through his own share of chaos and heartbreak. Difference is, he’s had a life time of experience. He doesn’t act immature in a childish sense. He truly behaves like a downtrodden old man. He’s had his days and would feel more secure settling down in a more peaceful environment with fun yet much needed calm. A better way to handle his need for risk. Age gaps in adults that are large [75 - 35 = 40 years!] are far less likely to work for a multitude of reasons. The main reason is the difference in life stages - that difference in mentality and experiences plays such an impacting role on compatibility. Often their goals and energies are polar opposites and their common grounds minimal. There’s also the looming concern of power dynamics. Whilst it’s usually the older figure that’s holds the power advantage, in this case it’s a little bit more complicated. I’d argue that it’s possibly Angel with the higher power. This rarely works irl but it’s POSSIBLE. Look at Hugh Heffner and his last partner before his death. I believe she was around 22. However there’s many common grounds, immediate attraction, and similar goals. Though incorrect, Heffner does give off a pimp-like vibe (he’s not but you get what I’m implying with mothlike imagery). Husk does not strike me as that type. It would definitely cheapen his character. In terms of interests, the main thing they have in common is that they like to drink. A bad habit, especially when one is an alcoholic. Both are also rather lazy except for certain circumstances [Husk will go out of his way to help HOWEVER he’s obliged to under Al, the only one he’s seen to willingly help and bond with/be seen with is Niffty. Angel is when there’s a fight, chaos, drama or any sex work]. Both are also rather snarky and vulgar. In terms of love, both suffer intimacy issues. On Husk, it’s ‘losing the ability to love a long time ago’ meaning he was likely cheated on or at least had a failed relationship. If he was ever ready for a new start, he’d definitely want something stable yet rewarding. For now, he needs a LOT of work - work he is not yet willing to put in, nor does he have a reason to. Angel doesnt want to commit because he’s extremely selfish as well as in an already abusive ‘relationship’ already. Sex work is sometimes VERY taxing on the mental health due to some of the folk you service. He’s seen the worst in many and just enjoys the pay and fuck. IF Husk was cheated on, then it’d make a lot of sense if a sex worker wouldn’t be his flavour, it would just serve as a reminder. Not only this, but Angel HIMSELF actively participates in cheating. Not with Val... but with *Travis*. BOTH know Travis is married (I’d be feckin worried if Trav didnt-) yet they still choose to cheat anyways, regardless of the pain it could cause. Angel even mocks this by sending greetings to Trav’s wife. Honestly this... Reminds me a LOT of Stolas - a main character who sexually harasses another character clearly not interested/comfortable, participates in cheating and we’re supposed to root for them (and before anyone gets offended, I do have more to say on Angel’s behalf so please be patient). Either way, it’s very toxic and concerning. Even if Husk wasn’t cheated on, I dont think many would feel exactly secure after having such a rough past with love, diving into a relationship with someone who’s openly participated in multiple affairs. And that’s no shitting on sex workers either, it’s just a point that some would feel uncomfortable with the idea of being with ANYONE (regardless of their work) having actively and KNOWINGLY took part in having an affair previously - especially multiple. Husk’s in an emotionally fragile place and needs more security. We’ve already established Husk heavily dislikes Angel’s advances. In fact, his responses to Angel are similar to his responses to... Al! His body language is VERY test and closed off to even Al, who’s most likely knew him for a very long time. If even Al gets this treatment (whilst also disrespecting his boundaries) then it’ll be the same with Angel (both force Husk into their lives and schemes, both disregard his boundaries). And he’s shown to STILL go out his way to help both however this is most likely tied to an unspoken ‘debt’ he owes Alastor. Plus he’s been mentioned behind the scenes to be a secret softie and protective grandpa type. But this animosity is very reflective of how Loona behaves and responds to Blitzo as well as how both Loona AND Husk (One being a ‘lowly servant’, the other being a literal old MAN) as pets - even the fans - just because of their forms. But this isnt the first of the disrespect they receive. Now we delve deeper Both are addicts of some kind (Husk - drinking, gambling. Angel - Drugs, possibly sex). Not a good mix at all romantically. Addicts often and unintentionally feed their addictions to each other as well as can increase likelihood of relapsing which even a recovered addict can slip back into. When times get tough (a natural occurrence) both are likely to suffer with their addictions. Interestingly, they can become addicted and dependent on one another, which is genuinely unhealthy for a mindset anyways, regardless whether addiction existed prior or not. Addiction only increases these chances. Angel likes confidence in a man (confirmed on Patreon). Yet, Husk is even confirmed in streams to be deeply troubled and insecure. One thing he hates is his demon form, something that we’ll touch on shortly. Angel loves quality food ESPECIALLY of Italian origin whilst Husk is willing to eat the shit they give you in bars (admittedly that was painful to type as someone who grew up around pubs - either way it’s not exactly high quality or gourmet is what I’m saying). Interestingly, in some character references of Angel, it’s stated that he hates rejection. Hates. That’s a VERY strong word. This could explain but not justify why he’s persistent with Husk (similar to NiceGuys believing you’re playing ‘hard to get’ - further illuding to an immature and toxic mindset) though it interestingly doesn’t apply with Alastor. Odd. There’s a counterpoint to symbolism in art. A very VALID counterarguement... If it suited Viv’s style. During Media Studies, Business, Design and Art, hell fucking Silent Hill! - I’ve been educated on effective symbolism as well as artistic trademarks (the most famous that most should know is Alfred Hitchcock!). Hitchcock often appeared in all his films, usually as a sidefacing silhouette, trading marking his films with his very PRESENCE. Viv’s seems to revolve around hearts. I mention this because an IG account made the point that hearts were to symbolise anyone connected with Angel’s story and love life (Valentino’s business and shades/collar, heart behind Angel’s head, Heart tattoo on Cherri’s right shoulder, hearts for Husk’s paws, eyebrow marks above natural brows, wings, and nose as well as most of the playing cards). Thing is, there’s hearts EVERYWHERE in all of Viv’s works and such symbology of Angel and hearts is weakened if it connects to the villains/abusers as well - taking away the positivity in a love symbol. Viv’s used hearts in her font, backgrounds, in characters ears, in all her series just generalised, Blitzo’s forehead, background characters, again the cards, Travis’s eyes, Millie’s right shoulder in the SAME place as Cherris. Even Vaggie had a heart tattoo on the shoulder in some christmas themed artwork (on her left). Heart’s is just something Viv seems to brand herself with. And that’s fine though I feel she could do with cutting it down slightly. One thing to early note on the cards (again, this’ll creep up later and my name should tell you why), most are heart suits and usually either a face card (J, Q, K), Joker, ace or 2s. Face cards/Jokers for more details close up (look at the signing artwork) and the rest are just easier to animate, though a little bit of a peeve to someone into their cards as well as the massive overuse of red in Hazbin overall. It’s extremely unlikely to be symbolic. If they change it to be so, then it’s... Weakened. As I’ve mentioned earlier, Silent Hill is an example of extremely clever symbolism in more darker media (more so, SH is considered a ‘hell’ of sorts and does feature religious iconography WITHOUT causing offence. A great example of how to portray this type of thing - they even mix humour in if you consider some of the sneaky references, dialogues and odd UFO/dog endings). Discussing Viv’s art further, she drew a gift for her sister (original creator of Husk when he possessed white fur) of Angel playfully dragging a disinterested and annoyed Husk (I believe this was still around the time SpiderMoth was canon). The newish art tends to have Angel putting a holly crown on him or sitting on his knees, Husk seeming too lazy to really do anything about it. Very nonchalant. I also want to include some interesting stream arts here and later to further highlight their bond. A fan asked Viv in a stream to draw them “actually getting along” - this wording implying that the fan is aware of Husk not enjoying Angel’s company. So Viv did, with an extra doodle of Husk being one of the ‘canadian people’ from South Park who sing “Im not your friend”. The art alone shows Husk’s absolute discomfort, even the extra thing Viv added w/o request. As they’re her characters and the fan asked for what they’d look like getting along, to show this discomfort goes to show the dynamic once planned. Husk just isnt a fan of Angel, especially when he’s being sexual and touchy. It can be great for small comedic parts, however both the team AND fans have now crossed this over to really creepy and triggering realms in their ships. It’s creepy and doesnt look good on Angel (who they actively root for) nor the gay community (more on that).

[Yes Ive already pointed out the comedic side of this ^ but it doesnt bode well considering the other points and issues that arise] There’s also a request for drag angel flirting with drunk husk. Personally thats a lil creepy to specify one of the two being intoxicated and thus not able to truly consent. If Angel is willing to flirt with someone in that state, it doesnt mean he would fuck them, but it does feel the fan was thinking that’s the case. In all truth, I think Angel WOULD flirt with those incapable of consent purely to swindle or pickpocket. I’d like to think [and HOPE considering his own abuse by Val] that he’d never take it further. And I hope Viv, the team and the fans see how incredibly creepy that thought is. I’ll give benefit of the doubt though it is still a concern. Either way, Angel appears... Annoyed? Husk is completely turned away and seems incredibly grouchy and confused. This shows yet more rejection on his behalf as well as Angel’s response to being rejected, which highlights his immaturity towards it. Remember, he’s USED TO and EXPECTS everyone to want him (even saying this in the Pilot). Hell, there’s even a Rich Vaggie request where Viv again randomly includes Husk. This time, he’s faced towards her and relaxed, though seems unimpressed and overall disinterested in this type of behaviour. Behaviour and interests of Angel [Celeb status and rich appearance due to Val, despite getting very little of the cut and the vanity, as well as Husk just not giving a shit about this sort of peacock display]. (Also wanted to note in Viv’s #3 stream 1:50:50, Faust makes out that Husk is a ‘dirty, creepy old man’ as well as him constantly threatening violence towards Angel. I dont see him as *creepy* in this context - as it implies perversion that he blatantly lacks fortunately - though it’s very telling of how Husk feels and again shows this toxic relationship).

/Angel’s Type: First off, daddy issues. He has them. Now let’s look at ‘daddy’. Henroin is shorter than Angel, dark fur, grumpy, old, wears only a hat and tie, big brows... Sounds familiar? Ok, look at his brother Arackniss. Similar to Henroin, dark, short, grouchy, bullied by and bullies Angel, is adverse to Angel and overall possess a bad relationship. Ok.... His main client, Travis! Short, dark fur, moody, Only wears hat and tie, drinker (shown in stream as request so take drinking with a pinch), similar face to- Is no one else seeing this trait? Angel seems to go for these shorter than him grouchier men who either want him for sex or hate his presence. Men who are like his dad and brother. All of these guys are far too similar, and we’ve got enough men in suits, bowties and sharp teeth in this show to boot as it is- The psychology of this type of attachment is rooted in a bad familial relationship alongside the subconscious desire to repair or compensate for it. Unknowningly the person will keep seeking out this sort of guy who isnt good for them to fix this internal issue. The resolution is to NOT go for these types. It’s also connected to intimacy fears, by going for those you know arent good for you/right for you/interested in you is often the manifestation of these issues. Pair them with daddy issues and it’s a disaster! There is science to back this up. Valentino is interestingly the opposite yet still toxic issues arise. Why? Because he’s going from one extreme to the other but with the same mindset. Neither of these men or types for MANY reasons are right for him. And visa versa. Seeing a pattern? ~~~~

Angel w Husk? I mentioned before that Husk hates his demon form. If you’re an old man, a gambler, some Vegas bloke and have this grouchier disposition, why the fuck would you want to look like an oversized pet? Exactly. Angel however adores his own aside from the feet. Now I find it strange how the guy we’re rooting for just so happens to like his own form which was intended for punishment. But that’s not todays post. I said earlier that Angel is heavily fixated on Husk’s appearance. Especially the feline aspects (calling him Husky and Kitty - petnames he hates that also treat him again more like a pet than a man -, dressing as a ‘sexy cat’ to appeal to him which can come off as more mockery. This is even backed up by fans who seem to think an old guy’s gonna act like some school girl anime trope?). All of this completely disregards and disrespects Husk’s feelings and perspectives. Something the fans and team take part in actively. Angel - whether you want to hear this or not - is SELFISH. When Husk ‘owed’ him for missing the show (babysitting Fat Nuggets), Husk begrudgingly fulfils this. The second Angel owed Husk for stealing drinks, Angel threw a hissy fit. The silent treatment, going to other bars and posting about it whilst complaining (again focusing on Husk being ‘cute’). Trying to cop out of it by buying Husk a smoothie (though it looked like a date, lets be real, do you REALLY have to bribe someone to date and be around you? No) and even then he still had to owe the money which was more of Husk’s concern. Yes he did in the end and more money than needed, hence the returning of the extra cash, but that is no excuse for the childish behaviour prior. He’s much too accustomed to being adored and pampered and getting his own way that he cant grasp when people arent a fan or willing to pamper him. If they make them a ship, all it does it make Angel completely into a shitty Gary-Stu that everyone loves and pities for his suffering, rather than teach him to grow, earn his redemption and confronting his own toxicity. Let me make this extremely clear: ANGEL DOES NOT DESERVE ABUSE OR RAPE. But when he starts behaving as shitty, he’s hard to root for. Remember, he’s sexually harassing all these guys, with Husk getting the brunt of it. But it’s treated as a joke for them and only taken seriously for Angel. Val abuses all of his employees. He abuses VOX and even THAT was mocked by fans and staff. It’s... It’s frankly gross. In every interaction Husk has with Angel, his body language is closed off, tense, uncomfortable, turned away and hostile - look at the IG. He wont even allow Angel to touch him. Compare this to Niffty, who he’s fine with taking pictures with and letting her hang around and touch him. Body language is relaxed (relaxed shoulders, open body language) and he doesnt look hostile at all. What does Angel do? Always tries to get close to Husk (such as sitting as close as possible during Poker) and forces both his OWN hobbies onto Husk (ones that Husk shows a strong disinterest in) and Husk’s hobbies (Poker). It’s very FORCED and not natural. Going back to immaturity, he blames Husk and his cards for being shit at the game. They’re always bickering, insulting, fighting in the comments but fans only see this as a ‘cute couple fight’ or Husk being ‘tsundere’.Tsundere. An anime trope often used in young characters. Irl tsundere is NOT this dramatised. The tsundere you see in anime, apply that irl and you get the recipe for the most toxic, petty and immature relationship going. You get constant fights, unease, not feeling loved/appreciated, little trust - the list goes on. Plus an old bloke really isnt going to indulge in tsundere traits. It’s childish. After his history with love, I doubt he’d be up for games and messing about. For something meaningful, he’d just want open honesty. Their ‘relationship’ feels like it’s written by horny kids attempting a fanfic after being inspired by 50 shades and twilight (both show toxic relationshiiiiiips~). The worst is that these are adult writers trying to portray some realistic yet sensitive topics. This is just ill fuckin taste. Even the warnings in Helluva’s ‘Horny Demons’ leaves a bad taste when the fans are thinking Stolas is the best dad despite both parents ruining Octavia’s mental health. Despite the next day after that episode aired Stolas starts flirting with Blitzo again on IG. Despite Blitzo being clearly uncomfortable and sexually harassed and even co-herced into sex (VERY UNHEALTHY MESSAGES HERE). Viv herself has been in bad relationships so how the fuck she’s blind to this and even borderline fetishizing this sort of behaviour that everyone seems to play off as ‘Awwww cute tsundere <3 BOYFRIENDS BOYFRIENDS BOYFRIENDS’ is abhorrent. I’ll go into this more later on how this really just... It treats male sexual harassment and assault as a fucking joke- Angel’s constant unwarranted flirting is no different from the freaks on IG that send dick pics to underage kids and random women in their dms and fathom that they’re ‘nice’ and have a ‘chance’. Wanna know the creepiest? The candid photo of Husk on Angel’s wall. Something Husk seems horrified about. It’s fangirlish and teenager like at BEST, and obsessive stalker at worst. He’s NOT respecting Husk’s boundaries or feelings. That’s still up despite Husk’s reaction. He still wore the costume despite Husk’s feelings. Angel’s thinking with his dick and it’s such a fucked up message that everyone seems to support just because ‘its FICTION. Theyre in HELL.Theyre BAD people.’ Yeah? Well look at how that’s effecting and warping reality and perspective. It’s glamourising it. Fetishsizing stalking and making it cute. Yer have celebrity or boyband or whatever youre a fan of pics on your wall. NOT your crush. NOT someone who clearly isnt interested or happy with this. If someone who kept commenting on your pictures “sexy” suddenly had a picture of you on their wall, what would YOU think? How would YOU FEEL? Because myself and my own sisters have been in VERY fucking similar situations and it’s traumatic. His paw is even attempting the lens - Angel is crossing his boundaries and not getting the message that Husk doesnt want this. He’s forcing himself onto Husk. Yknow... VAL forced himself on Angel and it ended up in numerous rapes. Angel hasnt raped Husk, but if he wont take no. If he wont respect boundaries. If he only wants Husk to do what he wants but throws a fit when he owes husk - he’s picking up on Val’s bad habits more and more. How are so few - even the very team creating this - not seeing how disgusting this is? Are we only supposed to give a shit if Angels hurt? If so, the message isnt so much of how despicable Val is but how awful it is to upset Angel. Fans constantly blame Husk for being grumpy, annoyed at or rejecting Angel. Look at this real world implication. Not only that but Angel being gay just reinforces one of the worlds most disgusting and inaccurate stereotype of gay men being sexual predators and forcing men to have sex whether theyre comfortable or not. MOST gay men arent like this, and those who are its just because THEYRE shitty people (Jeffree fucking Starr, but look how people ‘stan’ his fuckin behaviour). Val is rubbing off on Angel as much as fiction has a MASSIVE impact on reality - whether we’re willing to admit it or not. Like Val, hes pushing past boundaries, he’s selfish, hes more into visuals than anything else. It’s one sided, superficial and theres no click. No connection. Be in this situation yourself and seeing this sorta shit becomes second nature to stay alive. Angel even says that most of hells residents are ‘ugly freaks’ yet finds Husk cute. It’s all LOOKS. Who else likes appearances alone? Val. I know this will trigger and upset fans, Ive been told to fucking die and have my ED triggered when I mentioned it before. But accept that all of them have flaws. Everyone irl have flaws. But there’s flaws and then theres a fuckin crime. If Husk was a woman, more people would see the flaw, but even then... Look at many romance movies - not all but many go for opposites attract (science proves this inaccurate irl), stalking, or even sexual harassments and assualts but she falls for him and they end up together. That aint love thats Stockholm with extra steps. Think you’re triggered and upset? Go through this shit - have a history with it happening - and then see some show you love and a comfort character get treated the exact same and everyone JUSTIFIES it, including the team themselves. It’s NOT cute. Part 2 to the previous point: Both do share common interests, but it’s very unhealthy such as excessive drinking, both being addicts and being rather lazy, etc. Otherwise the common ground just isnt good. They’re opposites that really dont compliment each other. (Not a valid point here but I find it interesting how Angel loves aquariums and Husk can fly too). Viv’s writing is mediocre at best (but with glowing potential - a diamond in the rough - hence why it’s so frustrating) but Husk’s writing is the laziest. According to Viv he’s (paraphrased) “easiest to write... doesnt care about anything, almost always grumpy leading to similar reactions to everything”. His voice and alcoholism even has a lot of inspiration from Rick Sanchez. As I said with Angel in the RadioDust post, it’s almost like the addictions are seen as a joke. A running gag is fine if you can play it off well and it’s not about something so serious EVEN MORE SO when the series is about how damaging the addictions are and redemption. Why is this end goal being ignored unless it’s about Angel himself? That’s not just favouritism or bias, that’s also heavily self indulgent and a backwards ass message. Right now, Hazbin and Helluva have this ugly fixation on sex and ships. VIV has a fixation on ‘horny demons’. Her main characters are incredibly sexual bar Al (dont even say Husk, Niffty, Charlie or Vaggie or even loona and Moxxie are even on par with the focus and treatment Val, Angel, Blitz and Stolas are given). It’s very fixated and concerning. Its starting to feel like it’s about to divulge into hentai than a legit series with even a hint of the plot or a message. It reminds me of Family Guy trying to be BoJack. It’s starting to remind me of fucking Sausage Party and the final orgy. Sex and swears makes it inappropriate for kids but that doesnt make it adult or mature, and this is coming from someone who swears more than a fucking sailor whos stubbed his bare pinky toe on a fucking crate corner. Constant swears arent funny or artful in the slightest when it’s over done. It’s just... childish adult humour. We cant be expected to want to root for any of them at this rate- All A24 and other companies are seeing is big cash and easily manipulated child audiences (for easy money). They KNOW it can be better but theyd rather be lazy as they’ll profit big either way. This is going to end up like YanSim and YanDev. Amazing potential, shit writing with a leader too stubborn to accept and act on criticism, seeing it as hate. At this point, Husk isnt a deeply troubled man with vices and interests. He’s just fuck candy and romantic end goal for Angel. To compliment and complete him. Just another accessory to the Angel Show. Vivs sister who made Husk even loves Angel so it’ll only serve to further this already toxic narrative. The ship doesnt look or feel right. There’s too much established now to see the dynamics and favouritism in the creators. Self indulgence. You cant play favourites when you do this sort of thing professionally. The audience can see it and it turns people away. Ask any nonHaz/Helluva fan what they think and it’s... Well, average. Another thing is everyone went full hype on Frozen focusing on something other than romance as a form of love. But then go back to “Ok now everyone reenact the final scenes of Sausage Party” afterwards. Not everything is sex and romance, and it really is starting to feel Viv and the fans are focused on that like Incels focusing on ‘chad’. It’s creepy. Helping with food, telling someone self conscious on their weight that they’re not fat, not taking more money than someone owes, even helping out with a pet - that’s something that a good friend would do. In fact, Husk even laughs at the goofy Angel cutout and it being destroyed. It doesnt instantly equate to wanting to fuck. The fact that the fans and even some of the team seem borderline horny is... Completely destroying this show, it’s message and everything about it. Viv said ships were hardly the focus in her stream but look at it now. Look at what Viv focuses on now. It’s just fanservice shit. Nothing more. Self indulgence shit, look at the team making rape into a fetish or shipping themselves publicly with the characters on the public IGs. It’s like watching children run a business and it’s painful because the entire series is suffering when it could be amazing. Friendship should be more normalised as a valuable type of relationship just as much as love or family are. I’ll also add that Husk adding after the show “Oh fuck... Is this what I missed? Shit.” is ooc like the ‘date’ (that was compensation for stolen drinks, like a tamer version of Blitzo fucking Stolas for the grimoire). It contradicts that he slept it off rather than an attempt at staying awake, as well as calling it a “god damn peepshow” implying a repulsion to the peverse tendencies. The constantly commenting, following and posting Angel related pics makes little sense either from someone who’s blatantly been sexually harassed as well as the clear repulsion of the candid pic on the wall. He outright rejected Angel. What would be realistic are the IGs focusing on learning about the characters, their lives and interests - ALL updating at realistic paces. Old men arent tech savvy usually nor care for social media that much. He’d post drinks, gambling, casinos, life with Niffty and Alastor. Heck maybe a picture of Angel captioned “When will this guy leave me the FUCK alone?”. He even only seems to tag angel, even in the pic that had Charlie and Vaggie [their shared account] or Niffty. Theres a CLEAR bias in the staff room and it’s messy. Look how most the female cast is ignored (Vaggie/Charlie, Velvet who posted a birthday gift to one of the new artists on the merch WHY? Gasu btw, Niffty, Millie only posting twice - heck even Vox and Loona sometimes get neglected. CLEAR. BIAS.) The ships focused on are 1) NOT established canon yet publicly favoured by Viv and the team (Stoliz, HuskerDust, VoxVal - that last pair havent actually got a VA either-), 2) Are TOXIC and theme around abuse or sexual harassment but it’s ‘cute because gae’ - NO. This makes gay people look really bad when they’re not. 3) HD and SL focus on one sided, stalkerish, cop out ‘tsundere’ excused ships to sugar coat the creepiness which only further fuels bigotry, 4) SL has MERCH on it now, so thats also profiting on sexual harassment imagery (again, dont give a shit they arent real - the EFFECTS are. The people who can relate ARE. The people being horridly stereotyped ARE). Thing is, the IGs originally were there to promote ADDICT which started as a fan song anyways despite everyone saying how Viv is stubborn in her ways an uninfluenced by her fans (proof says otherwise) yet shes allowed a fan song to be canon. Theres a focus on forced love for fanservice. The IGs have long outstayed their welcome. The Val account allows glamourisation of the sick shit Val does AND entinses fans to bully as they forget a REAL PERSON runs the fucking account, Val isnt even a scary villain either - hes just a big teen like everyone else - stuck in a teen drama with all this. Pimps are smart. Theyre scary. Theyre masters of manipulati- HOW DO THEY NOT DO THE RESEARCH?! Viv wanted this sense of realism and dealing with sensitive topics in one of the worst executed ways Ive ever seen- It’s toxic. It’s dangerous. These are shit messages and your fans display that when they think all criticism is ‘hAtE’ and actively bully real people w REAL EXPERIENCES. Telling them to ‘stop pls’ does fuck all because you still promote shit messages straight after. Like with Stolas to Blitz in a IG story a day after Ep 2. Classy. Fanservice seems desperate to keep these fans (rather than market correctly... Just like YanDev) and it leads to fans feeling like they have the audacity to steer the series. Poor business with WEAK boundaries. Viv, you lost your series a long time ago. Want it back? LISTEN TO LEGIT CRITICISM. Stop surrounding yourself with yes men. Even my best fucking friend calls me out when Im out of line because a real friend will fucking take the chance of hurting your feelings if it means helping you in the long run and grow. Mick joked about the inside of Husk’s ears matching Angels coat, that the ears are cat’s most sensitive and vulnerable parts. 1) Cats vulnerable part is their tummy - hence why you need their trust first (alternatively yer get the odd cat that has full confidence they cat hurt you a lot faster than you can tickle them - I own one), 2) Its weird that Viv doesnt know this considering how many cats she has - its important to learn the language of those you love to give them your full understanding and a great bond 3) This romanticises sexual harassment more than it already is in the media (remember, theres women out there still murdered for saying no!) as well as reinforces the stereotypes of gay men forcing non-interested men into sex (again, a very toxic and unrealistic trope - a dangerous one thats led to gays being murdered!). And the ears design is unnecessarily overly complex considering those fuckin wings he supports. If the design adds nothing to the character but aesthetic, then it can go on the chopping block. Rules for simple animation. Besides from Angel sharing the same tooth as Val (who knows if that was added after he started working for Val as branding?) you could use this argument to say Pent or Al are soulmates for Angel because of having striped suits, or sharp teeth - no, it was intended as a joke that Viv fueled to irresponsibly because it’s not the first time she’s dodged publicly addressing something (something youll NEED to get used to in a big company), and she’s publicly dodged shit after this too so Im not putting faith in her until she can act professionally as the job requires. Likewise, professionals should consider what and how they joke as they’re presenting an image of a company/business. And people WILL eat that shit up face value regardless. In her stream #2, a fan requests for art of flustered angel and smug husk to fuel their ship. at 2:10:21, she does so. She’s also done this for Baxter x Niffty and Cherri x Tom. As a professional, you really should be avoiding this sort of thing in the name of fanservice. I get it, fanservice = financial gain. But it also results in empty meaning. It’s a shell of what the passion project once was, hence why you make the ENTIRE skeleton before involving others. The team help construct the muscles, tendons and organs. The public - moreso critics and the more experienced in those fields help sew the skin. Then you bring it to life, the fans become like blood. They aid to keep it alive. Even Ash and Mick mention Husk being ‘tsundere’. Im had most my piece about it earlier, however I’ll repeat and add some extras. Tsundere is an exaggerated personality, often used in younger characters. In terms of a relationship, it’s very immature, leads to poor communication and results in a toxic love. Science can back this up as well as the lack of realism. It’s more immature minds/hearts that go to what they interpret as tsundere in hopes of the love life the media portrays. A farce. Y’know what Angel needs? Someone open, honest, open to love and comforting. He doesnt need someone rebuffing and him chasing. It’s nothing more than an immature thrill. Once the love begins, it’s burns out QUICK. It’s far from sustainable or healthy. It’s not what either really need and further show Angel’s fixation on men who subconsciously remind him of his father. It’s not healthy. Another thing is a tsundere actually IS interested but shows it in the most immature and childish means possible. Would a really old bloke actually give a shit to play those sorts of games? No. Not one coming from a place like husk has. It’s painful how lacking in research and experience these people are. Science backs up that opposites solemnly attract also. In fact, they often either repel or only get as far as friendship. Fan and Team Mentality in Brief: Im coming out with my ultimate pet peeve: if you’re going to have one of the MAIN characters be a gambler, do your research. The only background shit is a casino, LOADS of sex references (in Pride? Really?) and drugs. It’s like someone listing what they think is adult and tabboo and naughty. It’s yikes. Cards are almost always aces, 2s or blank. MOST are heart suits (like we need MORE red - we get it, it’s hell. But it’s an immature larvae stage hell). I get 2s and aces being easier to animate, however you have Husks wings, the entire of alastor, angels arms - if youre busting the budget for the menial then bust it to the cards. Theres like ONE spade. The full house isnt a full house (here’s a display of the fans lack of education on the matter as well which serves as a sure sign that they know just as little on any of this as SpindleHorse, they think it’s a sign on him being a card cheat. A card cheat. I aint saying hes not but what I AM saying is poker professionals are some of the most observant people in the world. Especially when money’s involved they’ll ensure youve got your facts right. That wouldnt fly at ALL. But theres more~ fans think Husk spent loaaaads of time staring at angel’s face in the IG poker out of <3 Newsflash. When you play poker you read EVERYONE like a book. Every little twist and twitch of the features. Its not about love. It’s about winning. Its about money. Play enough poker and it’s instinct if you want to actually play decently. Call bluffs. Life aint a fuckin romance.) And playing Poker at a BlackJack table? In a casino? These are all common knowledge and basics if you just research. And this is coming from someone with a history of this. The fans even believed Tipsy Bartender’s ‘Peach Princess Cocktail’ was something Spindlehorse made as a beverage form of Niffty, Angel and even Charlie because of the name. Now, Im not expecting everyone to be a fuckin boozy either, but to not even consider it’s a very real drink does show that many fans are far too young for that 18+ label. Fanart of HD often has Husk being OOC OR being held hostage (often via webs - one even being reblogged by Viv, aint that cute!). Some even have Husk completely intoxicated, which would be rape. Im not sugarcoating it. Because too many are getting the sweet treatment and copying Viv’s ‘dont address and it disappears!’ tactic - A LOT of internet celebs do it. The ship is drawn a lot by the team in the public eye, Viv reblogs it publicly (SL, HD, alongside canon only ships, how curious-). Husk is pan yet doesnt behave as the stereotype. And Id FULLY support this with my fucking SOUL (fun fact: you cant sell a soul. Thats myth to scare people-) if it was done correctly. But the way bisexuals, lesbians, gays and aces are portrayed so stereotypically (even Pan in terms of Val’s sexomania), it’s really REALLY uncomfortly coming across as Husk being pansexual JUST to make him an ‘option’ for Angel. Hell even the hets are given a shite representation. Some art btw has husk tricked into a kiss. Cute, we’re really starting to like blurring consent aint we? Remember, Angel has celeb power in his world. In the real world, he has a following. HE has the power in the ship massively. Hell, fans JUSTIFY Angels behaviour and absolutely rip Husk a new shithole if he fuckin even so as to DARE OPPOSE ANGELS MUCH DESERVED LOVE! - sarcasm because I have to make that shit clear now. Fans dont care about Husks feelings, he wasnt even popular until this ship started to explode. Y’know what would be cool and break stereotypes? An old straight white guy actually accepting his friends sexualities. The pan thing feels really fucking gimicky and exploitive and gross based on the history of all this shit. It feels disingenuine. Representation doesnt come from it just being there. What next? Katie whips on blackface to further show shes a bigoted knobhead whos white and straight? Dont get me wrong, Katie’s an arsehole but theres other means to show this rather than ALL HETS HATE THE BIG GAE. They dont. They really dont. But hey, we’ll show a gay man sexually harass every guy and root for him! NO. Thats fucked up. It makes gays look like the predators theyre not. It’s like the fucking 50s with modern tech - is that the real identity of Vox? Fuckin maybe. WHAT THEY NEED - FUCKING FINALLY, ITS THE END IVE BEEN ON THIS SHIT FOR DAYS WHILST SICK LUCKY ME EH? CAN YER FEEEEEEEL MY TIREDNESS OF FANDOMS AND CREATORS EXCUSING SHITTY THINGS FOR CLOUT, MONEY, FAME AND OTHER DUMB SHIT? IF YOU CANT, THEN WHAT THE FUCK, AND OTHER NEWS: Right. Lets get our main shit. Compatibility between the pair is really low - lower than even the team seems to see. And yer old fart of a Hag here’s gotta use my personal suffering as an example because thats what the cool kids do, right? Their friendship compatibility is high. VERY high. But low for love. HEALTHY love. In terms of convo flow, it only has a river when insults are flying, otherwise Husk actively cuts Angel short or outright annoys him. In reality, someone like Husk would gross out Angel, but the cute cat look can turn that the fuck around - JUST the look. Fans and the team oddly think it’s cute though. Yes, I remember being negged at the bar and thinking “BOY arent my pants flooded like the fuckin planet when the ice caps are melting”. There’s no click. Theres infatuation and lust one sided based on looks. Husk isnt even remotely interested and no means delayed yes apparently. Angel as a rape VICTIM should know better than to blur consent like this. Angel isnt a rapist [for the skim reading raging stans ANGELS NOT A RAPIST, YAAAAAY!] but he sure has a shit grip on when he’s looking like Val when Val forced Angel into a kiss by not accepting rejection. It’s. CREEPY. Its fuckin weird. Husk is literally named after being a shell of his former self, I doubt random sex and forced interest is gonna make him spring to life like bastard Zeberdy from the Magic Pissin Roundabout. Honestly, sexual harassment and addictions are treated the same in this - a joke. A punchline. A gag. Sure makes me fuckin gag. Nah, the more healthier Chaggie relationship (needs work on Charlies damn part - dont let freaky taxidermy men sexually assault your life partner like that) is booooring, lets focus on sexual harassment leading to true love like all the other shitty romcoms shall we? Or sugar coat it with ‘getting to know them better <3′ like Beauty and the Beast. A story, by yours truly: My mom’s mates with this woman. Lets call her M because her name starts with an M. M is just like Angel except slightly older, overweight and disabled - so not everyones cup of tea visually (shes neither here nor there to me imo, not like I hold interest in shaggin her). Like Angel, she fuckin flirts with any ANY man around her. She’ll even touch without consent, rub allllll up and down their backs and bodies, and not leave them alone. She even did this with a few gay men. Shes not a horrible person BUT mom and I are constantly trying to stop her and get through her head how DISGUSTING this treatment is. But nothing gets the message across. Shes ALWAYS talking men and sex and has an on/off fling with this one bloke (dont worry, hes the male M, cheats and does the same as her). Everyone, even women, are uncomfortable with this. Irl it’s desperate and a HUGE repellent. Men are visibly SO uncomfortable. She does it to my father too who is - in case youd forgotten - MARRIED TO HER BEST. FUCKING. FRIEND. My father is not a man of fear (and interestingly, hes one of the real life Huskers I know!) but this woman? *insert Heavy bc why tf not* She scares him. My dad does everything in his damn power to pull away, reject, resist, avoid and cut her off. The only reason hes even nice to her at all is because mom likes her (when M isnt a gross hornbag, shes genuinely a good friend to my mother - much like angel and Cherri). My dad’s strictly banned from insulting her or telling her to fuck off from my mother BECAUSE of her nature with him. Even at her non horny times, he’s even said shes not his flavour. I’ve had numerous accounts like this myself (ask any woman-) but the worst was the guy thinking - THINKING - that Id eventually be his whilst he played up a lot of our similarities up, seemed nice and I actually thought I had a good guy friend (put it this way, Im genuinely scared of men because of guys like this). At this time, there was a character I discovered who looks and behaves SO much like me, and shes married. My simping arse for this fictional BEAUT [Im sorry but Iris is fucking awesome] compared her romantic traits towards Olgerd as something Id do - and this was a STATUS. It wasnt even too him, tagging him, nothing. I was just spamming Iris like the Iris whore I am, and... Yep. Ill be honest and say that God only knows what else I did that made him think I was ready to rip off my clothes and shag him. My post history back then showed Im like this when I find a character I relate to. I also send hearts a lot publicly and to friends to express joy - I get NERVOUS how that’ll be taken now. He tried to pit my ex friend and I against each other for him and even cyberstalked us pretending to be a girl named Raven. My GUT told me this aint no bastard ‘Raven’. The vibes he gave me, and the fact when I kept saying no he took it as a delayed yes (He even said “Ill wait for when youre ready” not “I understand and am happy to still be friends”) gave me literal nightmares of this guy tracking me down and raping me. He’s currently dating that ex friend (I was still willing to be their friend and support them but they said it was hard to keep us separate in her lifes and she didnt want conflict, so I cut it off amicably with her and I fuckin hope he treats her right. I even sensed in my gut she’d like him and he’d like her - even that theyd be good together! But then I found she was 17 and he was 10 years older, that he was cyberstalking and pitting us against each other, that he was secretly an arrogant fuck and that he gives off red flags like her ex’s - but shes passed 18 now and I want to trust her as an adult that she can deal with this. Shes got a good family.) As a kid, Ive been fuckin groped at school in my shitty neighbourhood. One kid even harassed me wanting to know if Id started my periods yet. Hed constantly fondle girls and ‘keg’ them aka yank down their skirts or trousers in public, and 2 years later held a fucking KNIFE to my throat in a classroom with the shittiest substitute teacher, all because I stood up to him (I was not known for my bravery at school so). He was harassing my female friend who suffers from it since as well as her upbringing, bullying her and stealing her stuff. Shes TINY. She was bullied just as bad as I - who was somehow both the school ghost AND pariah somehow- - and I stepped in and told him to cut that shit out before snatching her things back. I told her to ignore the desperate prick. Thats when he took a boxcutter and held it to my throat, threatening me to keep my head down. Now my neighbourhood fucking qualifies as the British ‘hood’ but Id been lucky to avoid this. Ironically, I wondered what this situation would be like a year prior. Im convinced I can fucking foresee bad shit now and with anxiety that aint good. I froze mentally and I just said “Wooow, Im fucking scared- *friends name*, ignore him” and continued my work. I fucking mentally kicked myself for speaking but I genuinely didnt know what to do. Obviously not fucking that. He sat the full TWO HOURS at our table with this knife, jolting forward mockingly and switching who he pointed it at. The knife btw was from that very room as it was graphics and art. Teacher didnt even notice though honestly Ive had an entire class throw shit at me and call me a whore and the teacher in that class looked at me and TURNED AWAY. End of the day, I reported it to my actual graphics teacher when he returned and he told me he’d take this higher up and to get my parents. My home was only 5 minutes away but I had to walk alone when most the students were gone AND through a fucking alleyway. I always walked with my head low but that day I kept it high and tried to look brave because I genuinely thought he was waiting for me. That he was going to rape and kill me because he’s a pervert and Id just discovered a fucking violent one at that. I broke down at my door. Do you know how fuckin hard it is to look your parents who are dealing with two cancer patients and other issues in the eyes and tell them their ‘little girl’ had a knife to her through for standing up for herself? We went back, I described everything and even remember the yellow-orange handle just to get this kid punished? I even wrote an official police statement (well, the written witness account they add to their statement and evidence) and had to speak on mine and my friend’s behalf because she was that shook up. I never even used to speak for myself! He got expelled, but yknow what us jolly folk dealt with? Hearing kids and his mates mumbling about the ‘rat’ and how much of a cunt they were. Teachers and kids praise him for his art skills and even pin them on display EVERYWHERE (one - ONE - was a fucking self portrait and none of the staff seemed to find issue in that) and even an occassion where he came back into the school when he legally wasnt (trespassing). Do you know how hard it is to fucking avoid someone without raising suspicions from everyone around you in a narrow corridor? Im TALL too. I got NO support from this and felt on edge because he could easily sneak into school. I couldnt say shit because his stupid ‘spies’ were about. Just typing this is upsetting enough- I also know a rl Angel who’s like him minus the sexual harassment. She’s... I never used to like her and visa versa but we actually get along really well now, even though she can be creepy and perverse- But she wouldnt be my type either nor I with her. Often we really fuck each other off but we can also bond great. Another incident reminds me of Husk’s candid photo. Ive had people keep my photo despite me saying not to however I had someone SOMEHOW at that school one the fuck up that. There was a cut out from a magazine of a lady who looked like my DOUBLE except she was asian. Now I thought this was cool and it made me feel sorta pretty. This one girl showed everyone and the teacher, pretty much everyone was like “Oh shit that really is you, C!” and it was harmless fun at first. Until I wanted the picture. Again, this woman looked EXACTLY like me. Yet this girl refused and said she wanted to keep it and even carried it around in her pencil case. Yes it wasnt me but due to the similarities, this photo was called me (tbf the fuckin pic got more respect than I did-). This isnt the only creepy instant between me and this girl but the photo reminds me of it. And this tops people keeping photos OF me which happened in primary school. This was me but legal at that time. And asain. It was super fucking neckbeardy the way she treated this photo and stared, often stroking it and looking at me. I just hope she was only trying to scare me. Theres one final instance of a sexual assault but Im just not yet ready to be public about it. 2 here already know. Those are some of my rl experiences and more to come (unfortunately) that show these behaviours in real life. It seems - it comes across - that sexual harassment, MORE SO TOWARDS MEN, is seen as some punchline and not something legitimately horrifying or dangerous. It’s not cute. It’s fucking FAR from it. Ive already mentioned how putting two addicts together can lead to relapsing, dependence on each other in an unhealthy way. And Ive even mentioned what Angel needs in a relationship in the RD post. Luckily for you, I’ll copy and paste it here: “ We need to think about where both are mentally. What benefits would a relationship give both? How would they be good and bad for each other? For Al, aside from his outdated views and being a fucking murderer and narcissist, he actually seems in a good mindspace for a relationship IF he opted to be in one. Angel however has a very immature mindset, likewise is in a phase of life where hes bed hopping. IF he were to be in a relationship, I’d say he needs a male equivalent of Cherri - someone with a similar mindset yet some differences, willing to have fun and in touch with their younger side, down to cuddle, open to share and receive love as well as not afraid to publicly be affectionate with him, someone who sees him as more than just for sex, someone fun, someone who’ll let him embrace his cutesy side publicly without shame - Cherri is younger so maybe someone who’s his age or slightly younger perhaps? I think Angel’s not retirement home ready to settle and needs someone on his level that can cuddle and chill as well as feels free and youthful enough to go wild with him. In one sense, he’s got a teen girl sorta mindset (dont put him with a teen though, it’s fuckin weird-). He needs someone positive and raw, someone to let him be himself as well as someone comfortable to be themselves around him. He has a habit of latching onto unobtainable men (in psychology, this is self sabotaging subconsciously): Travis the client, Val a pimp, Husk (emotionally unavailable and needs HEAVY self work - interestingly far more than Angel - plus he’s still onto his last relationship and an addict to gambling and alcohol), Pent who’s the enemy he was currently fighting (inappropriate timing), Alastor who’s not interested in another but his own needs [selfish, VERY bad for a relationship]. Subconsciously he’s self sabotaging on purpose. There’s many psychology books as well as sources online for this, if you’re interested. Either way, Angel is drawn to men either like his father [who dislike him, shun him, or are otherwise cold, abusive or just blatantly dislike or otherwise dont care about him] or anyone with money to fuel his drug addiction/’debt’ to Val. Going with any of these men isn’t a good idea. Preferably, Angel needs someone who he doesnt immediately crush and obsess over. Someone who he doesnt sexually harass or assault. Someone he can build a connection with quickly that can bud into romance (think how Chaggie started as a friendship which clicked immediately). Maybe even someone he doesn’t expect to fall for but does so anyways. It would be more realistic as Viv wants as well as more healthy. That for once he isnt sex or money craved instantly, thus doesnt sexually harass/assault and is given a proper chance to develop and grow a friendship and love. Someone who isnt an addict. Someone with an on-par mindset where they click. Someone open to love. For any chance of a good relationship, Angel needs to be with anyone BUT who we’ve already seen. There’s too much toxicity that’ll be swept under the rug and justified otherwise. Too much shit to fuel homophobes in terms of gay stereotypes. Even though Ive focused a fair bit on Angel, it’s NOT just about Angel. That’s something fans forget. Some he depends on or someone who depends on him in the long term wont last and will be very dangerous to both. Just because you suffer, you dont then deserve to be rewarded with ‘something nice’. You dont get to have everything youve ever wanted. Giving him any of these blokes [minus Val] gives him a pass. Gives him what he wants. I get Viv loves him but life doesnt work that way. True lasting growth comes from learning that. Acceptance and growth. You dont get everything you want and sometimes thats a GOOD thing. He’s not a spoilt kid who gets everything he asks for, he’s YOUR creation. If you really wanted what your creations deserve then you need to research and be realistic with it. Because hes starting to feel like a shitty Gary-Stu at this rate.” Sorry for that copypaste clusterfuck. Copy paste is not my forte lol Now Husk. Remember Big? Probably not after the info overload, but if you do GREAT. Big needed love, patience, understanding, someone who could help him, someone who understood and respected his boundaries. I spent so much damn time and now he cuddles up and exposes his tummy because I make him feel understood, loved and safe. He NEVER purred or meowed (why would he need to meow when he didnt speak to humans?) but now he does. He lives on the streets of a neighbourhood with rough folk. He used to draw blood and go rabid on my arms. But I was patient and showed him that I understood his reasons but that he was safe with me and had no need to strike out. I never pushed his boundaries let alone doing it multiple times (the rl angel I know is fucking skilled at pushing cat’s boundaries and wonders why they all huddle up to me and avoid her lol). Husk is an unavailable man. Romantic/Sexual love does NOT heal his wounds. But thats the only thought fans and the team have given on his side. He needs love to ‘fix’ him. The WORST reason to get with someone. Theyre not a project and you arent a fucking miracle worker. Treat them as an equal. He needs a good friend. JUST a friend. Like Big, he needs patience, trust, understanding, and extensive help (arguably more intense than Angel’s). He needs to love himself a bit more FIRST. Someone who respects his boundaries INSTANTLY. Someone relatable and similar, open to love not just sex and not as troubled (if they are, they need to handle it way better, healthily and overall be in a good mindspace). Viv can ship whatever the fuck tickles her fancy, but once your passion project becomes public and funded, you have set responsibilities on how to address and handle sensitive issues as well as having to accept criticism. If Husk goes sober in the name of love (ESPECIALLY with the guy not respecting his boundaries and sexually harassing him), then it’s a fucking INSULT to alcoholics. I know a few rl Husks but there’s one that anyone who knows me enough knows the man I hold closest to my heart was an alcoholic and spitting of Husk. That’s why Husk’s character means so much to me. But there’s only 2 here who know a bit more of this man. This is something Id hoped to not share so soon, nor as messy. And Im already getting waterworks because this is FAR from easy. I guess Husk became the very thing *I* needed in order to face this. This man was my grandfather. WAS. I cant even fucking accept that. I was a fucking child. I feel stupid being so open about this over some stupid cartoon but it just shows the real life effects this has on REAL fucking people. This man was old and lonely. Always at the pubs. He taught me card games, card tricks and card magic as well as one of his own sons dealing with a gambling addiction. I feel so fucking stupid crying about this- I dont want to open up but its the only way I feel I can get people to understand my side in all of this. This man was a fucking MESS. A closed off, lonely, grumpy old bastard. He lost his love because of his alcohol addiction and never found love again. Never got over that woman. (Shes still kicking and we’re close - im keeping some things under wraps between them as its not my place). Gave up on life and love. Worked hard at his fixation on cards and puzzles, as well as crass jokes and knowledge. But he was very lazy otherwise. Bitter and angry. And you know what? He was my world. I love this man with every fiber of my being because he was the first person to love and accept me for me. He treated me as an equal and helped me grow as a person. In fact... He was only ever happy around us kids. He had hope again. Protected me. He used to hate gays and blacks and you know what? He taught HIMSELF as to why that was shitty thinking. He taught ME about differences in people and to accept it. He taught me that you dont always have to understand to accept. He taught me poker and... swears admittedly. He was a beautiful soul that was broken inside. He needed to love himself. But you know what actually fucking happened? You know what I watched as a kid? I watched as he smoked until every morning he woke throwing up phlegm just to BREATHE. I watched as sometimes the light in his eyes died and through smoke breaks and early drinking how he’d sometimes slip and show me his pain. And we’d have deep talks about it and the world and everything. How alcohol ruined his life yet he craved it. His scent. I remember arguments I wasnt supposed to overhear and growing up seeing him fucking DIE slowly in a hospital bed. The man he was ended up as a fucking husk. His skin was bloated and purple, he was half machine on how much shit he was hooked up to. How he was barely a man at all. He was dying of cancer and he fucking knew and never told us. His cancer meds gave him horrid hallucinations. And I practically spent most of my time in that hospital because TWO people had cancer. Two stunning people had fucking stupid bastard cancer. He was a fuck up. He was flawed to shit. But seeing glimpses of the real him was a fucking ethereal experience. He made me feel like a PERSON. And all we could do in the end was watch him just die. He WANTED to die and you could see it but hed only eat around us to fake fight out of his own hubris and not wanting to let us down. That year, I watched 2 of the only people who ever gave a shit about me die the most dishonourable deaths God could have gave them. Years prior I watched his son gamble EVERYTHING away - his lover, his house, his everything. Hes a moderate gambler now with a partner who never had a history of any addiction. She helps keep him in line as he helps her. But most nights I fucking dream of this shit. I cant even think about my hero because I fucking weep. I still have nightmares. Im still up thinking how I could have saved him from himself when it’s him who was the only one able to. I have to live my life with those memories and I was just a kid. Im a full woman and Im still haunted by it. Even that year is blasphemy and I fucking hate it. I want to take him in my arms, hold him and tell him he’s enough. That its ok and he can get through this. Anything that reminds me of him, I love because I know the other side. The real side. The side not tethered to vices. When I see people like that, I pray they see themselves like that too and I want to help them see it. Tell them that they can live again. It’s better than fucking decaying in a hospital bed. That when people make this sorta shit into a cute quirk it’s not. And it’s dickheads like me who have actually seen it play in the real world to REAL people they love. They arent a fucking accessory to fix for your own narrative. They arent a fuckin performing monkey. At least with Rick and Morty it’s kinda humorous and never played for some shitty toxic ship to appeal to everyone who’s never had to face that shit themselves. And Im like my old man but with more hope and no addiction. I drink and I gamble but I’ll never let myself get that low. Because I honour him but Im not as fucking saft. I wont allow it even though it’s a fucking battle. Those addictions are in the blood. My family history. Its always been so fucking normal. I’ll never knock someone for an addiction or try to preach them out of it because theres often pain fueling it, but I’d never encourage it or toxic faux cures and stupid romance promises as some bullshit MLM remedy either. I KNOW it’s fiction but I want people to see the real side. I want VIV to see the real side. Id willingly for FREE fucking sing that shit if it meant spreading a good message. Because this is fucking hell. FIXING IT: The ship’s basis is too set in stone now - too familiar to change. Best is to never let it be canon. Because you know what else it teaches? That rOmAnCe cures all. Not therapy. Not rehab. Not any REAL work. Just fuck and date it all away as if it’s that easy. It’s a mockery! I tried to be professional about this but when the media bombards this shit constantly, the has the AUDACITY to play like it’s giving a good message is salt to the wounds. A kiss with a fist. An old man dont care for the petty teen drama that Angel and Cherri (even fuckin Al) thrive on. Want this to send a good message still? Angel hates rejection and thinks everyone wants him. Have Husk reject him. Especially because no one should go out with someone whos sexually harassed them there. Been there, done that got the fuckin tshirt. Have Husk reject Angel the way Gravity Falls has Wendy reject Dipper. It helped Dipper move on and mature, and this is what Angel needs for growth and to be more humble. Husk would be a fucking excellent mentor to Angel, a friend and protector, someone who shows him the ropes like Grunkle Stan like a grandfather figure. To not fall for his mistakes. Husk would be a better expert than any of them plus it balances the power dynamtic. It’s healthy and realistic. Touches the topic with the sensitivity it needs. Not everything needs a ship or romance. Wounds healed that way dont stay healed long. Angel seems more fitting as a son like figure, and he can play that dad like role for him. And if any of the team EVER saw this, fucking take this idea. Its YOURS. FREE. FOREVER. If we wanna play this NDA but still reblog some of the story telling arts and have some of our team indulge in it. I wont sue. Fucking TAKE IT if it means doing this shit right because Spindlehorse have beautifully triggered so many different people and their different traumas to please teenagers sexual fantasies, their own kinks and for a jolly good joke. This is a bastard long read and Ive had to face the traumas again but if good can come from it then I’ll GLADLY dance this duet again. Stans, Antis, dont even TEMPT interaction. You arent brave sending suicide threats behind a screen, youre a coward and a waste of oxygen. I WANT Hazbin and Helluva to succeed. I want Viv and her crew to do well. Trust me, I wouldnt waste my time if I didnt give a shit. Viv is fucking gifted and its being wasted if it’s not at her full potential for the approval of a rabid army of kids and immature adults who dont know any better (stans and antis). I know she would like a good and decent fanbase. Stans and antis arent it. Tagging you folks because it’s long but yall actually helped me have the courage to open my trap to this. Screenshots are coming later though all of what Ive said is easily sourced. But this has been days, Im sick, im tired, ive been upset facing my own traumas. If any tags wanna help then by all means but otherwise. @honesthazbinarchives, @siaesnow (also added age still bc despite the lack of physical aging, theres also the mental aspect and experiences as well as power dynamics side to it, in case youre wondering), @noirellearts, @enchantedchocolatebars, @galemalio (thank you for letting me weep like a bitch), @angel-blitz, @critical-hazbin, @what-the-hazbin, @hazboobhotel, @pineapple-critiques-stuff, @devils-advocutie, SORRY AGAIN FOR BEING A LIL BITCH FOLKS, I feel awkward like my teen years but yeah- fuck it Im old and imma rot soon anyways. If this experience can help then Ill be glad.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin critical #anti huskerdust sorry folks #vivienne medrano #criticism #toxic relationships in fiction #how fiction impacts the real world #yeah im a wimp who cares?#hazbin needs to change for the better #concerned fan #dont be another yandev #dont be another yansim #stans and antis dni #stans and antis will be blocked and reported #hope this gives justice to my hero about the rl effects of addiction #rest easy Kiddas got this #still shitting myself #read more wont work sorry

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