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mono-dot-jpeg · 9 months

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listening - stellaron hunters

summary; you cannot see the reality in front of you but you can hear it. and yet it sounds so painful.

genre/extra tags; headcanons, angst ig?, hurt/comfort (questionably executed), reader has torchwick's (rwby) cane weapon thing but not really, reader has the hunt path and lighting as combat type, i'm seeing in 4d right now with how im setting this specific reader up rn, actual lore executed badly

[platonic] [teen reader] [gender neutral]

[warnings; mentions of eye injuries, insecurities/doubts about one's self, weapons mentioned quite a bit]

[buy me a kofi]

a/n; sorry this took me almost a month (maybe longer depending on when i finish this work). got distracted very quickly by other things and then i got writer's block for a while. whatever so. i'll describe reader's weapon in the headcanons, don't worry. hope you enjoy.

you were an unexpected addition to the hunters. i mean you're so young compared to everyone else, what makes you so adamant on joining this group

i guess we'll never know /ref

but like all the hunters, you hold power just as heavy as the rest.

of course it wasn't for free. you worked hard in your homeland and you earned your path and power.

but you wanted to find something. something was missing.

you didn't know what.

but then you found the stellaron hunters.

you heard about the stellaron and you wanted to know more. you wanted to see it.

and somehow, elio had accepted you.

and you were now a hunter.

before you lost your sight, you were very skilled with tech like silver wolf. you loved making weapons or machinery

you worked behind the scenes and on the stage, so to speak

your preferred weapon was a sniper. and occasionally if you felt lazy, you would have a small turret by your side that would do the work for you

but imagine the absolute devastation you felt when you lost your eyesight in the middle of a mission. or more like during the mission

with your power, it was powerful but unstable

you could kill one enemy with ease but that would require high control with your lightning and careful aim with your sniper

unfortunately you have to control the lightning through your hands on onto the sniper so when you aim down the sights (i dont know how to describe it other than in gamer terms) that lightning has a chance to backfire and hit your eye

through that you managed to lose your sight overtime but this mission accelerated it

and you never felt so devastated

your power betrayed you and on top of that, it was in the middle of a battle and the enemies took an opportunity to take you down quickly.

blade and kafka were there to help clean up at least

but they couldn't handle the lost mess you were

"why can't i see anymore? why?" was the only mutters they heard from you

when you were taken back to base, you were attended to, much to your dismay and fear.

your usually hard headed behavior crumbled within 10 mins after you lost your vision

you felt weak

you felt helpless

you didn't feel strong anymore

your eyes were no longer functional, there's an irregular pattern that traces over your eyes and there's faint marks over the eye area you used the most for sniping.

blade describes the pattern as an angry lightning storm that doesn't end

and when you're done being cared for, you don't leave your room

when you do, you're dragged by kafka or silverwolf (occasionally blade but he just carries you roughly)

you feel like a burden every time you sit at the meeting table

you can hear everything with your vision gone

and you hate it

you want to see again but you know you won't

eventually you find your courage to start to navigate the base on your own

you find yourself in your abandoned lab with blade by your side

"stop frowning like that"

"that's a lot coming from you"

"you're really going to let this eye sight stop you?"

"well i can't exactly wield metal anymore. and i can't use my sniper rifle cane, what do you think i should do, boy genius?"

you feel him open your hand to show your palm and you feel a cold metal touch your hand. you start feeling it properly.

"this is my sniper rifle, blade."

"well, maybe it doesn't have to serve as a sniper. you don't need to take the first shot to kill."

and with that in mind, you become like a follow-up attacker

you train endlessly to improve yourself as much as possible.

you ask silver wolf to help you modify your weapon to work for you (you kind of backseated her about it despite being unable to see what she was doing)

and you now have a multi-functioning cane.

it functions as a gun, a mobility cane to help you walk and "see", and a melee weapon if you hit someone hard enough (which isn't really hard since it's made of a lightweight metal)

and of course if worse comes to worse and you need to deal with a bunch of enemies at once, it can release a powerful strike of lightning (similar to jingyuan ult). you have to let go of your cane so you don't get hurt but ehh small price to pay to save your ass, you know?

i think that since you're a teen in this, the hunters don't really pay attention to your feelings as well as they should

none of them really know how to comfort a teen. which makes sense.

blade and silver wolf are blunt in their own ways

kafka is very avoidant or she speaks so confusingly that you dont even bother

but when they really see you visit your unused lab everyday, they slowly start to understand that you had a part of you taken and you won't ever live your life the way you want to

but surely this is the work of elio. elio knew this was coming, and he knew you would be fine.

it takes a while for the others to tell you that you're not the burden you think you are. they try their best to comfort you even if it's really awkward bc they don't know how to comfort you properly yet

but you appreciated it.

#honkai star rail x reader #honkai x reader #honkai star rail #hsr x reader #honkai blade x reader #honkai star rail blade x reader #honkai star rail blade #hsr blade #honkai kafka #kafka x reader #hsr kafka #kafka honkai star rail #hsr silver wolf #silver wolf x reader #silver wolf

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ryujenini · 6 months

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Fluffcember Day 17

Yeji x Y/N - I always loved you

MASSIVE TRIGGER WARNING THAT THIS ISNT REALLY FLUFF BUT IM UPLOADING IT DURING FLUFFCEMBER BECAUSE ITS NOT SMUT

TRIGGER WARNING: THIS IS VERY SAD AND HAS MENTIONS OF SELF HARM, BLOOD AND SUICIDE, PLEASE DONT READ IF THIS COULD TRIGGER YOU, BE SAFE I LOVE YOU

~~~~~~

Another Day and here you were crying , this was a regular occurrence for you ever since you joined itzy, you loved your job, you really did but there was one thing that made it all the more difficult and heartbreaking, or one person you should say and that was none other than Hwang Yeji, the leader of the group, you're best friend and unfortunately the woman that had stolen your heart

You'd been in love with her since becoming a trainee and with each day your feelings for her grew stronger but you couldn't say anything, especially not now, you wouldn't do that to the girls and risk their careers all because you couldn't control your feelings so for 4 years now You'd been keeping that secret to yourself burying it deep down and hoping no one noticed the longing looks You'd send across the room at the cat eyed girl or the lingering touches that last a moment too long to be just platonic

But they did notice, at first it was just Chaeryeong, she had caught you on a particularly bad day, crying in the corner of the practice room changing rooms sobbing into one of Yeji's sweaters that you borrowed, Chaeryeong sitting with you wrapped in her arms until you had calmed down enough to tell her what was wrong and you had to admit being able to get it off your chest did help a bit but you still felt that giant hole in your heart that could only be healed by the love of your life that would probably never love you back, Chaeryeong giving you a sad smile before hugging you once again trying to help you feel okay even if it was just for a moment

But little did you know Yeji had been experiencing the exact same thing for the past 2 years, the only person she had told about her feelings being Ryujin who knew exactly how Yeji felt before she even confessed anything

Even Lia and Yuna had noticed the love you both had for eachother, all the members thought you were soulmates and were shocked that neither of you had recognised the others feelings yet.

Up until a couple of weeks ago you and Yeji were inseparable but it had reached a point for you where even just the mention of her name tore you apart and caused a dull ache in your chest so you had been trying your best to distance yourself from her despite Chaeryeong's advice to just confess but you wouldn't, you couldn't

You had pushed everyone away, been ignoring their calls and Texts all week, they were extremely worried about you especially after the last text that you'd sent them simply saying

I love you Goodbye

Not even 10 minutes later the 5 of them had showed up at your door, you stayed in your bathroom, looking at the blood trickling down your arms, wincing at the pain you had caused yourself but also enjoying the momentary switch of the cause of your pain, the Loud banging from your door blending in with the sound of your sobs and matching the chaos inside your mind

After a minute of kicking Ryujin had managed to kick down your front door and instructed the other girls to split up and look for you each in a different room

You looked up realising you didn't lock the door, you were too weak and exhausted to get up and do it now even though you didn't want the girls to see you like this, you made an attempt anyway knowing it would be useless but you slumped back down in defeat seeing the door open and through your blury eyes you knew it was her, the reason for your suffering

Yeji stood at the door, eyes blood shot and puffy, quickly running towards you, sobbing as she wrapped her arms around you before being joined by the other girls, Chaeryeong seeing you, gasped before running off to call for an ambulance

You looked up at Yeji through misty eyes and found it in you to whisper to her your last words "Yeji.....I'm...Sorry.....I always loved yo-"

And your eyes went black, air exiting your lungs leaving Yeji shaking your lifeless body, screaming for you to come back to her, but you were gone, she had lost the love of her life but gained a guardian angel, forever wishing she had just told you how she felt while you were still here

#fluffcember #itzy #yeji #kpop #imagine #drabble #one shot #fanfic #KimJeninies

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voidnoidoid · 6 months

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Thoughts on Weak Hero's Ending

Weak Hero ended a few weeks ago, and I took some time to process the ending after I read it. Overall, I think it was a great ending to such a wonderfully written series.

I like how things were mostly wrapped up, but left as an open ending. I appreciate how the Union, although mostly defunct, is being kept somewhat alive by Kingsley, who can't accept that Donald is truly gone and that the Union is over. I might write a more detailed Kingsley analysis, but it's interesting how Kingsley, as Donald's right hand man, never fully understood Donald. He placed him on a pedestal and deified him. He did care about him, the most out of everyone, but it is still sad how he got so caught up in making Donald king that he failed to recognise how Donald's rapid ascension and ceaseless violence was a cry for help.

Jake being the one to recognise Donald's true feelings is rather apt. I haven't thought much about his character (as is not fully analysed) but I think he's much more complex than he lets on. He's in a similar situation to both Ben and Donald I think, that being both Ben and Jake are the leaders of their schools, they just want to hang out with their friends and have fun, both shoulder the burden of being the strongest of their schools alone... It's just that Jake has a darkness within him that led him to join the Union. He has an inner bloodlust, one that he recognises in Gray. Jake is very perceptive of others emotional state, so it's no wonder he could correctly guess how Donald was feeling, given that he's one of Donald's most reliable officers.

I'll have to update my Donald analysis soon, because of the revelation that Donald willingly put himself in danger, running in the road screaming for Gray to fight him again. I think on one hand, Donald wanted that connection he felt with Gray again, as well as desiring gray to defeat him. But also I think he felt like death was the only escape left, hence the panel where he had a resigned and accepting expression as the truck neared him. As if he was waiting for his end.

I'm sure the Union will dissolve soon despite Kingsley's efforts. Wolf and Jake have left, and maybe Forrest and Jimmy too. I also like how Jimmy's character arc closed off, with him admitting that all he wanted was to be acknowledged by Donald.

Now then, let's go over to the Eunjang kids!

Although they lost the fight, they won the war. Losing meant they didn't have to bear the burden of being the strongest. Though they may face some fights in the future due to the resulting power gap left in Donald's wake. But that's a story for another time.

Eugene woke up and is happy and well! I really love how despite Eugene thinking he didn't contribute much to the fight, all his friends comforted him and reassured him of his major role thanks to his light controlling device! Yay Eugene appreciation!

Unfortunately Gray was deeply affected by Donald's death and entered a spiral of self guilt... the scene with his reflection mocking him hurt to read. Thankfully his friends were by his side to ground him. Gray really does have a kind heart after all.

Finally, Stephen and Gray meet again! I like the reintroduction of Jeremy, and that he remains a good friend of Gray by telling him Stephen is okay! His reactions to Gray being the White Mamba was so funny to read. I can't express how happy I was to see that not only was Stephen still alive, also that he's all better and working part time at a cafe! Gray's monologue at the end was so touching, and im glad he was able to greet his most treasured friend with a big smile.

I really wanted a Stephen and gray epilogue where they interact, but I do like the happy open ending. I think Stephen would be so happy for Gray and he'd fit right in with the eunjang kids! I guess that's what fan fiction is for lol. (sorry for the lack of weaktober writing... ill try to write something.)

I kinda wish some side characters had more cameos, like Toby, Lily and Julia, but their arcs were wrapped up relatively well too.

That sums up my overall thoughts on Weak Hero's conclusion!

Thank you to Seopass and Razen for creating a wonderful story!

#weak hero webtoon #gray yeon #ben park #big ben #weak hero #gerard jin #Jake ji #Kingsley kwan #Eugene gale #juntae seo #wolf keum #weak hero jeremy #Donald na #jimmy bae #weak hero stephen

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rosy-fox-art · 1 year

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Thank you so much for the post about how people interpret Heart’s blindness, I definitely want to avoid playing into a harmful trope and making you uncomfortable. I also really appreciate you stressing that he shouldn’t be infantilized as a baby who can do no wrong and that he’s just as harmful as Mind, just in a different way. I hate when emotional characters are immediately interpreted as inherently “good” or “pure” or “childish” simply because they’re emotional. As far as the blindness, I did interpret the “tines stabbed through eyes that the sides have condemned” line as him being blinded as a “punishment,” not realizing it perpetuated that trope, and I’m very sorry about that. I’d love to know your take on that line, but please don’t feel obligated to tell me, you shouldn’t have to explain yourself or anything! I am simply. So curious and I also find your concept of his “willful blindness” SUPER interesting Im honestly obsessed and I’d just like to know more about it!

Hiya! Thank you!💞 So sorry it took me so long to get around to answering this question! And don’t worry I figure most people didn’t really know or mean to cause any harm really. Also! Before I really start this post, a small cw for mentions of self harm.

As for my take on Heart’s blindness, obviously this is going to get into personal headcanon territory, but…

Heart’s ‘willful’ blindness to me is emblematic of his unwillingness to actually listen and look for other options for himself. His unwillingness to hear mind out on some of his more valid points. His unwillingness to actually find ways to make himself better as he chooses to blame mimd for the problems instead by the time The Heart Acoustic rolls around. It’s his unwillingness to acknowledge or work to change his more overactive, volatile behaviors and the faults of himself to help himself or to help the other two. His pension to shut down the things he doesn’t want to hear and block them out. This especially stands out to me because It isn’t on accident, it seems to be his choice. It’s a character flaw of his that he is so narrow minded and stuck in his own ways about his own feelings and apathy and struggle. It is important to me, then, that when it comes to his actual tactile blindness— not just on some metaphorical level— that he does it to himself. It is his choice. Not only does this avoid the issue of blindness as punishment, but also gives him some agency over himself and over this thing he’s about to bring on himself.

I also tend to view the actual event of him blinding himself in fan content I’d make a bit like…well.. an expression of self harm that happens somewhere between Good Day and Just Apathy. I think this album is absolutely speaking to struggling with mental illness and depression, and I unfortunately that can be a very real part of that for many (and is sort of alluded to at different parts of the album through souls threats, and the end part of Haiku). I feel it was done for a multitude of reasons on his end, but where it is in the timeline as I see it it’s during his ‘imprisonment’, where he’s spiraling into a depression that he sees no end to, and Mind not only has more control but seems to be chiding him for his weaknesses a la his part in Ruler of Everything and Just Apathy. I believe Heart to always have been photosensitive before his blinding, and Mind’s increase in control to me increases the brightened in their ‘ physical’ space’, causing heart pain in a more physical way beyond the emotional damage he’s doing (weather he be aware of it or not). In Good Day the lines “So come along, I think I'm done, I think we're done, yes this is done. The only question's whether it will be with pills or a gun” definitely seem to lend to this, the idea of him spiraling so bad he wanders into lines of thought we later become familiar with in Soul. He has begun to become disillusioned and sick of everything. Not only has he dug this emotional hole for himself in getting himself here, but the the others have certainly helped in building the environment that had driven Heart to this point in the first place. Their equal complicity in creating this cacophonous carousel is what I interpret the “time stabbed through eyes that the sides have condemned” as being tied to. All of them are at fault for the situation— in general— they’ve landed themselves in. I don’t think Heart even really quite thought about the actual consequences of him doing that to himself, just thought of what was happening in the moment. Frustrated with everything, with Mind, and frustrated with himself, too. And so he takes it out on himself in the worst way possible, but also digs himself deeper into his hole further in doing so. Because that doesn’t end up making anything better for him.

BUH! I know that’s a lot of real,y heavy stuff I’m so sorry haha.. I dunno. The first paragraph comprises more of my metaphorical thoughts on his blindness, and the second more fo a fan interpretation in terms of fan content I suppose. At the end of the day I think heart was visually impaired before he ever did that to himself, anyway. But I also always worry about this interpretation being too heavy— so I’m definitely always a little conscientious when sharing it and sometimes go ‘yeah maybe it would be better if he just sort of…showed up blind’ haha. I know it’s certainly not for everyone. But make of this what you will!

#heart cj #heart chonny jash #the heart acoustic #chonny jash #chonny’s charming chaos compendium #headcanon #thank you for the ask #I’m so so sorry it took so long #cw self harm

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aroacesigma · 8 months

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good mornig. im the eepiest eeper around. howre u

i found the dining hall Milk Dispenser and now every day its going to be a battle to not chug a glass of milk, knowing that my weak, pathetic stomach Cannot tolerate it

(im lactose intolerant. i still eat a fuckton of cheese and usually some ice cream every day. i am in constant pain)

praying for u bff if i were lactose intolerant i simply would not be able to have any self control either . cheese is too good one cannot live without it i dont think

also very eepy unfortunately im gonna go to the library again today to study i think . which is exhausting but its easier than doing it at home ngl . my exams start on wednesday its SUNDAY 😭😭 havent really prepared for the one thats first (english)

#asks #seknots-izumimir #dont feel prepared for the math ones that are the two days after

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wraether · 2 years

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dude tbh im a totally different anon but im frothing at the mouth like a little rabid clown begging to know more abt these characters. theyre sick asf and listening to the occasional nonsensical brain rambling is why i followed in the first place lol

Everything's under the cut, I tried to make it make sense without forcing you to read a billion excerpts from the roleplay, just a few. TW for toxic friendships, abuse, mentions of alcoholism, and also like. a lot of text

Before anything I've gotta give you a rundown on the necessary context to understand why exactly I've been losing my mind over these two. In short, they're characters from a danganronpa killing game roleplay server, where the "gimmick" is that every member of the cast has committed a crime & the setting is vaguely prison themed/inspired by deco*27's MILGRAM project; I write for Patryck, and my friend writes for Josephine AKA Soap. Here are their character profiles:

(God the art for these is already kinda old...)

For a brief rundown on their personalities, Patryck is a fairly average guy who desperately tries to be cooler than he is. He can't seem to hold down a partner, works too hard, and he's lacking in self control. In five words I'd describe him as flirty, burnt-out, insecure, sarcastic, and clingy. Soap is a lazy, hedonistic con-artist who's physically weak but great at reading people. They're a highly manipulative liar, and in five words I'd describe them as laidback, relaxed, nosy, cowardly, and pleasure-seeking. This is oversimplifying it, but I think it gets the general idea across.

Patryck is in on battery & aggravated assault charges for attacking a customer at work, and Soap is in for false impersonation—for most of the game, she was going by Josephine, the name of a missing person who's identity they'd stolen.

As far as the game goes, the two of them developed a "friendship" early on because Soap saw Patryck as weak and vulnerable—which he very much is—and he, simultaneously, needed someone to dump his issues onto. One of his toxic traits is forcing people to play therapist for him so, in a way, Soap was perfect for this… But unfortunately for him they had nothing but bad intentions. Patryck would run to them whenever he felt stressed or otherwise needed comfort and, in turn, Soap would lend an ear and pick apart his brain, pushing him into making worse decisions so he'd get upset again, crawl back, and the cycle would repeat. Examples of this include telling him it's okay to start drinking again when he started relapsing back into alcoholism, encouraging him to get into a romantic relationship with someone else when he definitely wasn't ready, saying he shouldn't stand up for himself after being threatened, etc.

This came to a head when, for one of the game's motives, Patryck was forced to wear a shock collar while Soap was given a remote that activated it. The power from this immediately went to their head, and without getting too into it, she shocked him repeatedly under the guise of "therapy" while getting him to trauma dump about things he usually kept under wraps and did this until he uhhh… passed out. The pain mixed with their placating, kind tone and scraps of physical affection did like. irreversible damage to his psyche I won't even lie.

Here's an excerpt from that thread, my friend's writing is first and the second is mine:

Then, after he passed out, Soap stuck around and sat by his side until he woke up again, which he latched onto as a sign of them actually caring.

And what's sad is he would've been fine staying in this ridiculously toxic mockery of a friendship, if only they were being honest with him; when he finally found out Soap was lying—remember, they're in for impersonation, and he'd spent the whole game believing they were Josephine—which led him to questioning all their behavior, snapping, and killing them. (He regretted this almost immediately as they still had an iron tight grip on his psyche, but there wasn't much to be done about it)

In the aftermath of the murder, both of their dirty laundry was forcibly aired. Patryck had to confess to basically everything he'd done wrong in the past—which is a lot, I can't stress how flawed this guy is—and Soap's status as a lying fraud was revealed post mortem. Seeing everyone hate him—and hating himself so strongly—Patryck came to the conclusion that he was an inherently bad person and that trying to change would be impossible. He was promptly executed for his crimes and died miserably.

Here's an excerpt from his final monologue:

(Real quick I have to say, Joey I know you get post notifs for my blog so if you—or anyone else from the server, spectators included—are reading this post, STOP RIGHT NOW! I'm about to spoil some stuff, and it'll ruin the final few chapters of the game if you know. So close this tab. Got it? Just come back when the game ends if you wanna read my incessant rambling)

Okay, so I know what you're thinking now: "Bio, this is an interesting dynamic and all, like, there's definitely something compelling about a guy who usually hurts others having his toxic traits turned against him by a con artist until he reaches his breaking point, but... this really doesn't match up with the art you've been making."

And you're right! It doesn't! Because all the shit from the game is just the beginning. It's where the brainrot starts, but there's more. Because get this: the killing game took place in a simulation, meaning now that they've died and woken back up in the real world, they have to navigate the aftermath of all the shit they pulled and realize that, after everything they did, nobody else likes them—and for better or worse, they're all they have now.

And... Patryck still wants to be their friend, because he'd rather get hurt than be alone.

Him killing Soap evened out the power dynamic somewhat. Now Soap knows not to fuck with him too much, and he knows she's a liar—knows who she really is—which makes it easier to avoid being blindsided by their bullshit. They're on an even playing field and can keep each other in check.

So they're just stuck in a room now in shitty plastic chairs with nothing to do but talk to each other. Man, it's palpably awkward, but they're able to reach this mutual understanding because, the thing is, when everything's said and done, they're really similar. They both need other people around to function, they're both afraid of ending up alone, they're both toxic to be around, and they're both dependent on pretending to be something they're not—for Soap it was pretending to be Josephine, and for Pat it was pretending to be "cool" so other people liked him more. But, their end goals with this diverge. Pat wants to drop the artifice as soon as he can, whereas Soap clings to the lies desperately and uses them as a defense mechanism. Pat’s desperate to be known and know others; Soap is desperate to hide away.

Regardless, now that it's been stripped away, Soap's forced to be genuine and vulnerable for the first time—she's never opened up to anyone before, but she's got no other choice if she doesn't want to be alone; he just wants to know her better, and it's scary for her.

But one of the key differences between Pat and Soap is their underlying worldview & how that affects their behavior and decision making. Where Pat is highly emotional, Soap makes it a point to prevent feelings from playing a factor at all. Pat killed Soap because he felt betrayed, but if Soap were to kill him, it would’ve been because they thought it through and doing so somehow benefited them.

It’s Patryck’s very feelings-oriented mindset that allowed Soap to hurt him so badly in the game; he needed someone to vent to, needed someone to show him affection, and they were able to take advantage of it since he’s easily placated by some kind words and a hug or two. Now that they’re out, though, and Pat’s her equal rather than her victim, he’s able to use that same mindset to disarm Soap completely and tear through their walls because they’re so highly logical and borderline anti-feelings that they don’t even expect him to be so earnest with them, let alone know how to react.

This head vs heart contrast between them is most clearly illustrated in their reactions to hearing that the other party doesn’t want to lose them, even after everything.

When Pat hears this, his reaction is nothing but relief. He doesn't even question their intentions when saying this, despite knowing the manipulation they're capable of. He's just happy to be wanted.

But when Soap hears what is, essentially, the same sentiment, they frame it differently, skeptical as to whether or not he's telling the truth and, as seen in one of the previous screenshots thinking, "He wants to use her, too, huh? Maybe this is what being lucky feels like." as if the baseline, even in genuine friendships, is taking advantage of each other, which is why they find it so terrifying that he wants to be close to her.

And Patryck's scared too, but he disregards it completely because he's much more willing to open himself up to being hurt if it means there's a chance at something real, at being cared for. His reply is natural:

So we finally get it. Hand in unlovable hand.

It's this insane mix of brutality and tenderness. Desperation and need. It's raw. It's emotional. It's a little pathetic, too. These two people who have hurt each other so terribly now have no choice but to be there for each other and, in a weird way, complete each other, since neither of them feel whole anymore; they click into place in the worst way possible, but it's so bad that it almost loops back around to being sweet. They're awful. They're wildly co-dependent. They're everything. They're driving me insane.

In the words of my friend: "They're therapist and patient and cat and mouse and victim and killer and also they are friends. by god they are fucking friends despite it all."

Since they've both lost their entire social lives, have nothing outside of each other, and nowhere else to go, becoming roommates is a natural decision, which is how we get to this domestic mess where their fucked up nature blends into something casual and expected. They bring out the worst in each other but, simultaneously, nullify a lot of their toxic traits; Soap's lying and manipulation is reduced to something he can easily deflect, and Pat's clingy, emotionally dependent nature isn't a problem for them, since they like having someone who relies on them a bit. Since they've both traumatized each other, they can also one up each other pettily with jokes about what they did in the simulation, IE "I wish I killed you for real", "Don't make me shock you more", etc.

Patryck still has potential to improve, but it's in Soap's best interest to prevent him from doing so, and he's so reliant on their company that the thought doesn't occur to him. Staying shitty with them is way, way easier than improving anyway. In a way it's kind of freeing to just admit he's terrible and have someone who will never leave him no matter what—who he'll never leave either.

And basically we've just been talking about and ruining our brains over these two nonstop. It's so bad, you don't even understand, we've made not one, but three separate playlists for them.

There is, of course, the in-game playlist for the terrible power dynamic when Soap was just ruining Pat's brain and emotionally manipulating him nonstop.

Then there's the playlist for the night of the murder, since Pat killing Soap has a distinct vibe that doesn't fit into each other two.

And, lastly, my favorite of the playlists, the one we made for whatever the fuck they've got going in post-game.

Then, just when you think it's over. When you think the brain rot ends. THERE'S STILL MORE, BECAUSE IT'S NOT JUST A SIMULATED KILLING GAME. IT'S ALSO A FUCKING TIME LOOP.

Everyone has been forced through multiple rounds of the killing game, and their memories are wiped before they're sent in again, meaning the truth with their current dynamic is that they might fucking forget it all, pain and tenderness alike, the understanding they've finally achieved might amount to nothing, and they know it. There's infinite potential for past dynamics, there's grief and anxiety over what they've lost and can no longer recall, but what's most important to them is what they have right here and right now. And they just have to grapple with the fact that they could lose it!

WHAT THE FUCK! HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO COPE WITH THAT!

And then just to cap off this borderline essay, here's the summary of everything, my friend and I's magnum opus: The Patsoap Iceberg. (which is essentially just a TL;DR)

#.txt #can you tell im going insane

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underscorecc · 3 months

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every time i dump a bunch of shit thats been on my chest it usually starts with all the problems in my life. maybe its because im just shooting from the hip but i find myself stuck in the should-have-beens and the varying levels of "not good enough" but i think ive had enough and for once im putting the shit that runs on the hamster wheel in my head out there where maybe someone can connect and understand and realize they are like me or visa-versa. unfortunately youll have to forgive the lack of proper grammatic structuring and the vagueness, but i dont really care enough beyond stringing my thoughts together in a way that someone can comprehend them, and my lack of specificity is partly to isolate this page from my life, and partly so that those who can possibly connect with some of these topics are able to just a little more.

heres where im at: i've just been through a breakup about a week ago, and even though it was on really good terms, ive opted to keep her out of my life for the time being. im sick of being obsessed and letting someone hold so much power over me (not that she was particularly dysfunctional). we even alluded to getting back together in some undecided amount of time, a time when she can be single for a bit and i can fix the major parts of my dysfunctional life. i dont really care about the breakup. she meant a lot to me but im just sick of her right now and of the apathy. i texted her that i wanted her out of my life so that i can get her out of my head (we originally opted to stay best friends despite the breakup) but that didnt really work.

anyways

off the top of my head i can categorize "dysfunctional" in the context of what im dealing with rn goes like this:

1 - I'm sick of being a beta of sorts. I used to carry myself with a lot of alpha energy that just went out with a bang at the beginning of the last 6 months, which currently, have been the worst 6 months of my life. you might automatically direct your thoughts to me being some andrew-tate-manosphere-15-year-old-incel-cuck at the mention of alpha, but no. It's more in the sense that I had self respect, was much more consistent in the gym and with music, I was way more confident, and all in all I just felt like there was a future on that path that I was taking.

2 - I'm sick of having such a weak internal locus of control. In another perspective one could say I have made leaps and bounds in terms of my level of control and discipline, and they wouldn't be wrong. from where my standards are set, it's nowhere near enough. maybe my goals are "unrealistic" or "too tall" but when you shoot for the moon, even if you miss, youll land amongst the stars. for now, my withered coomer-brain needs a reset, which probably involves some sort of dopamine desensitization, so when i start doing that i'll update on this blog.

3 - I'm sick of my selective pseudo social anxiety. when it comes to social dynamics, once im situated, i find myself more than competent in being engaging, and more often than not im the center of attention, but even so i find there's this level of desperation in the way that i entertain. not to say that im bad at it, no im the fucking best; no one does it like me. at the same time, i find myself feeling that when im joking with a group of friends or just making small talk theres this underlying begging of "please pay attention to me and validate me and dont leave me" that i pick up on, and if i pick up on it others may very well too.

all of these issues tie into eachother in more ways than i can imagine, and for the most part i can trace these issues to their source, the rejection, the shit talking, the anxiety, the deflated sense of self-value/importance/respect, the lack of self control, etc. so right now i guess i need to focus on just fucking doing it or something i dont know.

one of the things i find people (including myself) struggle to do the most is to come to terms with the fact that making significant change involves doing hard shit. for example, if you want to have a nice body and be strong just lift a lot of heavy shit and dont eat like a fatass. It really is that simple (not to imply that simplicity = ease) but so often i find people snorting lines of copium by doing some crazy intricate crash diet or giving in to defeat by saying "oh my basal metabolic rate is too low to lose weight" or "my bicep insertions look weird thats why i dont have good arms" (stay with me here i promise it'll come back to the main topic soon) and you could say that those are good excuses to give up, but you arent going to be any more satisfied with yourself by logically worming yourself out of putting in effort, because it takes effort.

I only said all that because i feel like thats what i do all the fucking time and its probably the crux of all my issues and it makes me fucking crazy. being decently smart doesnt help at all either, because i can logic my way out of fucking everything now, which has probably been the primary contributor to landing me where i am now. It reminds me of the most stand out part of fight club to me, "How's that working out for you?...Being Clever". If i were asked that by a one tyler durden i would say "its the fucking worst".

im all over the place now because my comprehension of this intangible dissatisfaction with myself, which i simultaneously can put into words succinctly, yet also could not describe with all the words of all the languages. i dont want to end abruptly here because it feels like theres more i could go off of, but i cant. tldr; its not over but like shit stinks bad rn :)

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dumbbitchfrommars · 1 year

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i really wonder what the context was of my last post. cause if it was about the girl who had a crush on me thats unfortunate. but if its someone else im gagged. im such a baddie. idk. idk. i think recently ive been in such a defensive state. like im waiting for something bad to happen at the hands of another person, and im expecting the absolute worst from them. i want to see the best but i also dont want to get hurt. i dont know where this stemmed from. i guess my people pleasing has gotten out of hand, because it hasnt been succeeding.

my job is kind lowering my vibration beyond repair. i weirdly enjoy it though? i dont know. i must be too in my masculine. and of course, completely disconnected from my spirit and higher self. i cant bring myself to talk to my sister cause i know we will only trigger eachother.

so here i am. sitting in the silence. tired of it all.

i cant even bring myself to physically write in my journal. and working out isnt as meditative as it used to be. though im so glad i can still get my ass up and do it. its not as fun and exciting. i kinda feel guilty for sexualising myself and loving my own body. literally, yesterday i was trying to force myself to be comfortable with my skin out, that i ruined my opportunity for a relaxing walk. the entire time i was self conscious and felt like the entire world was watching me. completely uncomfortable.

my anxiety is in a rough period at the moment. i dont even smoke weed anymore. that used to be such a spiritual practice for me and now im afraid of it. im kinda afraid of everything. especially people.

its weird, because i seem like i love people. i tell myself im good because i am so social at work, and i perform well and i connect with customers. but in reality, i cant hold onto any kind of relationship. if i do it has to be superficial or im uncomfortable.

i think if i shifted my focus to the good things about the relationships i do have, and the things that make me happy and comfortable and at peace, these issues im creating wont seem so huge anymore. its always like that. i should talk to my psych about all of this. i need to see her... i cant believe its been so long. like, my fucking dogs died. they both fucking died.

they contributed to my focus on isolation at the moment. i suddenly had the ground pulled from beneath me. they were my stability and my safety. now i feel so alone, at my core, that its all i can think about. its made me realise how short life is and how quickly things can change and slowly everyone is slipping away... when i pushed them out. i forced them to leave. theyre barely even leaving when we were nothing to begin with.

i get the feeling ive said all of this a million times before. it never really changes.

i feel like im a really driven and motivated person. i am smart and self controlled, and responsible, and im good at the things i try my best at. im gifted. but at the same time, i cant change the things about me that cause me the most stress and worry. i am stuck. i have been stuck, for so, so long. im tired of it. im so TIRED.

this loneliness is comforting. its healing in a way, cause i can avoid all the drama and stress of attempting to tell anyone how i am feeling. but that in itself is so fucking pathetic and toxic and weak. its like, i failed at the most fundamental human thing. communicating. connecting with others. creating a community.

maybe one day someone will piss e off enough that i blow up on everyone. why does the idea of that bring me so much relief?

i cant even bother myself to consider spiritual practice right now. oh im stuck in the past and its holding me back from opportunities and the blessings from the universe? bitch, im trying to fight depression! who gives a fuck about opportunities right now?! i have nothing to fucking live for besides europe. thats so pathetic. i need to get my head right again because this is such a huge mess. im under so much pressure. i have no time. time, time, time, time.

i need to be more social, i need to be more this and that. its a fucking exhausting thing to be in my mind right now. where did all the love go? it literally died with them. grief is consuming me. i cant pause life but its consuming me and im trying to pretend to be happy but im also trying to find the happiness again but its gone. they took it with them into the afterlife. or just into the fucking ground.

it poured so heavily today and my heart hurt with the anxiety i felt that you were cold and alone out there. that you were getting wet and without cover. why does it keep on raining? youll be so cold. i remember you laid in the rain the night before you died because you could barely move or notice it was happening. my poor babies. i miss you so much.

this is why ive been avoiding planning my birthday like a fucking plague, like a fucking disease. how can i even think about celebrating my life when yours have ended? to even celebrate without you? its too painful. i cant pretend like this anymore. but of course ill keep on acting like im fine. its the only way. i fucking hate this world.

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amelias-universe · 1 year

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Improve Your Self Knowledge To Be Your Best Self

Self improvement is important to improving the quality of your life and raising your self-esteem. By experiencing new things, you see many more opportunities than if you follow a lifestyle you aren't passionate about. If you want tips on self improvement, be sure to read this article and get some ideas.

Some level of contentment is crucial to mental health and self-improvement. While self-help tactics and tips focus on constant striving, there is a bigger picture to consider. You will never achieve holistic health and mental happiness without allowing yourself a bit of enjoyment. Learn to be content with things you cannot change (your family, last year's earnings, etc.). Once you are satisfied with the permanent things in your life, you are ready to change the things you can control.

A great self help tip is to write down everything you like about yourself. Sometimes depressed people develop such a powerful, negative view of themselves because they can only see what they don't like. Writing down a list of what you like about yourself can help you see yourself in a different, more positive light.

Identify your current strengths before you try to change your perceived weaknesses. A key component of personal development is having a true understanding of your whole self. Unfortunately, self improvement often focuses only on weaknesses. Often, improving an already developed strength may be more helpful to achieving your long-term goals.

Try increasing your intelligence a little bit everyday. Be open to writing, reading, studying, or hearing something completely new and different. By broadening your horizons, you can meet and talk to new people about things that you otherwise would not have known about. You can also use this knowledge to find new hobbies, activities, or even a new career path that you may not have ever thought about.

By thinking about ways you can strengthen your skills and improve your quality of life through personal development, you are more likely to succeed in any business or recreational venture you pursue. Remembering and sharing the tips in this article is a surefire way to increase your self esteem and sharpen your mind!

Read more here https://y98.z1.web.core.windows.net/parterapeut-imed-udvikling/

#par coach #kommunikation

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flowered-mp3 · 3 years

Text

quick f___ - im changkyun

pairing: ex-boyfriend changkyun + female reader

genre: angsty (yet soft ?) post-break up drunk sex. lol that’s it.

word count: 1.7k+ (this was supposed to be a drabble lmfao flurry i am so sorry lol)

warnings: explicit sexual content, cursing, alcohol, very very VERY slight degradation, exhibitionism, unprotected sex

summary: you meet with your ex-boyfriend at a party, and you’re weak.

rating: 18+

author’s note: my first entry for @flurrys-creativity tipsy drabbles, based on this and the cocktail called quick f*** (literally not even kidding, this is a real drink)! uhm yes this was supposed to be a drabble but i couldn’t help myself and i was tipsy and i got carried away oops what’s new ok bye have fun

—

[library] [monsta x library] [tipsy drabbles masterlist]

—

You two, are absolutely out of it.

Absolutely fuckin’ out of it.

The amount of alcohol that you both consumed in combination at this party means that every rational thought is thrown out of the window, along with the ability to comprehend that sex with your ex-boyfriend is not socially acceptable in a public area.

You weren’t even supposed to be seen in the same room as Changkyun. You tasked your best friend before entering the party to enforce the rule you made for yourself, but clearly, her efforts are in vain. Regardless of the methods you used to avoid him for the night, you’re still unbelievably, undeniably drawn to him. Just by spotting him across the room, looking incredibly attractive with his dark hair tied up, denim shirt partially unbuttoned, metal frames, and fresh eyebrow piercing made you completely forget why you broke up with him in the first place.

You broke up with him because he was a distraction from your career, your life, and your family. His piercings, tattoos, and dark long hair clashes with your parent’s vision of an ideal son-in-law, and just the sight of him made your stomach churn in self-loathing.

It isn’t because you hate him. You loved him and still do, even after all this time. But the wound that was fresh began to fester. It was complete torture to witness Changkyun move on and live his life without you, when you’re plagued by thoughts of him every single waking second. It reminded you of the fact that you left him, it represented the fact that you chose pleasing your family over your own happiness with him. It made you feel like utter shit, all of your mistakes in the past being shoved back into your face to see. The entire situation emphasized that you’re the person agonized without his presence and his touch.

Unfortunately, you’re weak when it comes to him, and you know it. All it took was a touch on your arm and the sound of his low voice in your ear to get your fragile self-control to crumble away. All you’re left with was pure, unadulterated desire; a need to have him in your arms again.

Every step that you took with Changkyun chipped away at your self-restraint. But once he pulled you away from the crowd to the empty second floor and his mouth attached itself to your neck in the fragile safety of the empty hallway, you were gone.

That brings you to the present. You and Changkyun drunk out of your minds, his body enveloping yours as he fucks you with a vengeance against a wall. All you can make out is his face and his body against yours, one of your legs wrapped around his waist and the other perpendicular to the floor, foot jerking upwards with each delicious snap of his hips against yours. You try to maintain your sanity but it feels incredibly good to have him with you, to have him inside you after all this time, making the events of earlier fade into the background.

Changkyun is being noticeably rougher than other times that you’ve been with him, kisses sloppy, teeth biting marks into your neck and jaw as his nails dig into the flesh on your hips painfully. Pulling away from his lips, your hazy gaze meets his, Changkyun’s eyes exhibiting emotion that you didn’t expect. You didn’t think that he cared about you at all anymore, judging by his demeanor a couple of hours ago. But underneath the fluttering eyelids and deep groans, he looks betrayed.

But before you can even comprehend what’s happening, he decides to drill into you harder. His thrusts are becoming so brutal that you jolt against the wall, hands shooting out behind you in an attempt to stabilize your body, tears beginning to bead up on your lash line.

It’s as if he’s punishing you for leaving him; for hurting him.

You can’t help but feel like you deserve it.

You want so badly to apologize to him; to say that you’re tortured without him; to say that you’re sorry that you chose good faith with your family over him, even when you know that he’s a great man capable of what your family believes that he lacks.

You love him so much, and you’re going to show it.

Grasping his jaw with your palms, your eyes stare into his with as much affection as you can possibly muster at the moment.

“I love you,” you whisper, so quiet that Changkyun can barely make your voice out over the blaring music on the first floor. He moans throatily in response before crashing his lips against yours fervently, coaxing your mouth open with a slide of his tongue. You wrap your arms around his neck as you kiss each other frantically, your movement making Changkyun press your back into the wall harder. Pulling away from your lips, he halts his movements to rest his forehead against the wall beside your head, overwhelmed by your confession. You’ve said it before, but the fact that you still love him after all this time apart makes him shudder, his heart beating out of his chest as he’s overcome with emotion.

“Say it again,” he demands before a hand leaves your waist, reaching between your legs to rub small, quick circles on your clit, slamming his cock back inside your wet entrance unceremoniously. In no time, he resumes his previous momentum, your hands clawing at the tattoo on his back you’ve always loved.

“I love you… Oh my God, Fuck me-” you moan incoherently, forgetting that the crowd of people downstairs could hear you if you get too loud. A guttural groan manages to sneak out of his mouth at your repeated admission, his lips moving to brush against the base of your throat, licking a long patch of skin there, huffing out pants and muffled sounds of pleasure.

You’re trying your best to remain as quiet as you possibly can, but you’re drunk and he’s making it ridiculously hard.

Changkyun is relentless, his fingers continuing to move on your clit as the other squeezes your ass, rocking your body even harder against the wall. He relishes in the weak, muffled cries escaping your lips, canting your hips against his own desperately.

Whispering heatedly into the air, you tell him how much you miss him, how much you need him, repeating how much you love him. Changkyun swallows your confessions with a searing, impassioned kiss, showing you in his own way that he reciprocates those feelings with the same intensity.

Unbeknownst to you, someone decides to use the spare bathroom on the same floor that you’re on. You don’t hear them come up, but Changkyun does, the hand on your ass leaving to slap over your mouth to keep you silent. You expect him to completely stop, wait for the stranger to go back to the party, then resume. But to your shock, he continues fucking into you with the same ferocity and vigor, a lewd, wet slapping sound echoing in your ears.

You end up slamming the back of your head against the wall behind you, biting your lip and muffling your moans against his palm. There’s an increased chance of a random person stumbling upon you two, but it gives you a rush that Changkyun already knows of.

You don’t even care at this point and it seems like he doesn’t either, judging by how loud you’re both becoming, regardless of the efforts that are being made. Ignoring the presence of the stranger, he decides to throw caution to the wind, fueled by the alcohol pumping throughout his body.

“Hm… You like that someone can hear us, huh?” Changkyun teases after removing his hand from your mouth, grabbing your jaw roughly, “Such a fuckin’ slut,” he growls hotly.

He clearly remembers all of the pet names to use; all the buttons to press in order to have you fall apart. It gifts him a high-pitched whine leaving your mouth, the tip of his cock pressing deep inside your core.

“Only for you,” you slur, barely managing to respond through the moans escaping your lips. Changkyun groans deeply, a lascivious, possessive satisfaction washing over him at your response. Combined with his fingers working on your clit, it makes you tremble underneath him, walls pulsing around his length, your leg beginning to shake in an effort to keep yourself upright. Luckily, he seems to understand that you’re getting tired, so he loops his arm around your leg, keeping you from slumping onto the floor.

“Close, baby?” he rasps lowly, making you shiver at his usage of a pet name that you haven’t heard in a while. Nodding dumbly, your mind becomes increasingly delirious by the second, eyes glassed over as you grasp at his bicep for purchase.

Wanting to get you there before he does, his thrusts get nearly animalistic. Finally, you fall apart in his arms, moaning wantonly as you come with an intensity that makes your thighs shake. You roll your eyes into the back of your head before closing them tightly, clamping down on his cock in such a way that makes Changkyun lose it completely.

He mumbles both dirty and affectionate phrases into your ear as he comes inside you, spurting inside you violently as his hips twitch against you. Dropping your leg from around his waist, Changkyun wraps his arms around your torso to pull you in for a breathless kiss. Your hands leave his bicep to brace yourself against his firm chest, fingers threading into his hair to deepen it, moaning contently against his mouth. You whine in disappointment when he pulls away, a trail of saliva connecting your tongues filthily.

“I love you too. Always have,” he admits, breath fanning over your lips softly, “And that isn’t the whiskey talking,” he adds, a gentle smile spreading on his face when he spots your facial expression, eyes wide and cheeks flushed.

You’re surprised that Changkyun’s disposition makes an entire 180 from before, the punishing grip on your waist loosening to a soft caress as his nose nuzzles against yours tenderly. It comforts you though, finally feeling brave enough to apologize to him, no longer afraid of the backlash that you could receive from him.

“I’m sorry that I didn’t choose you,” you apologize to him, eyes boring into his to hopefully convey your sincerity. Luckily, he brings you in for a gentle embrace, kissing your temple tenderly, not even bothering to adjust your clothing.

Regardless of what happened in the past, it looks like you two are going to be ok.

—

if you would like to be added to my tag list, please send me an ask! don’t forget to like and reblog if you enjoy my work. thank you!

- yue <3

—

#tw degradation #monsta x #monsta x changkyun #monsta x i.m #monsta x story #monsta x smut #monsta x imagine #monsta x scenario #changkyun smut #im changkyun smut #kpop smut #monsta x writing #mx #myworks:quickfuck #tw alcohol

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red-doll-face · 3 years

Note

Here is a request for slashers if they're open. My brain does a thing where I am affectionate w a person but if I get nudged away (even if it's just to readjust the position), it goes "oh no. They don't want u to touch them. Do not touch ever again or they will get mad at u. U disgust them." Even tho touch is my love language & it hurts, I just won't touch. If confronted, I will get confused & panicky cuz "u didn't want me to touch? Im respecting ur wishes? Did I miss something?" Its a mess.

Requests are indeed open, I’m sorry I take foreverrr to do these but i hope u enjoy! I don’t know what to call this tho. For simplicity’s sake I’m calling this nervous reader lmao, idk what else to call these.

Slashers x gn nervous Reader

Jason Voorhees:

Jason can very much relate to the feeling. When he first meets you, he’s sure that you’re frightened. He restrains from being too close to avoid coming off as overbearing, doesn't want to touch you because if you flinch he’ll be so hurt. He just assumes he disgusts you. Based on the reaction all of his other victims have when they see him, he’s sure you’ll probably be the same.

Once Jason is sure that you don't feel that way, he’s a cuddle monster. He wants to be close all of the time, holding hands, letting you sit in his lap, you name it. He’s so starved and quickly decides that touch is his love language too. He’s not even sure how he’s lived this long without it.

The only time I can see Jason maybe gently sort of setting you down elsewhere and walking off is when he senses strangers on the property of what once was Crystal Lake. He’s out the door before he can even see your hurt expression, Which is worse because this might lead you to jump to conclusions.

If you distance yourself from Jason, he immediately is thrown off. He can’t directly ask you if he’s done something wrong and when he tries to initiate affection with you and you don’t reciprocate whole heartedly, he’s at a loss.

He’ll get on one knee while you sulk on the couch and give you a silent plea to tell him what's wrong. You can panic and try and avoid it but he is certain there's something going on and he wants so badly to know what he’s done to put you off. You tell him and he immediately is shaking his head no, he could never be mad at you, never be disgusted with you. You’re the most breathtaking person he’s ever had the pleasure of holding, the first, most likely.

Jason nods because he understands how you feel. In the future, he’s persistent about how you feel when he untangles himself from you, making sure you’re ok.

Michael Myers:

In the later stages of your relationship, Michael is insatiable when it comes to being in contact with you. For a long time, towards the start of your relationship, he didn’t like it. It felt weird. All of the touch he's experienced prior was so clinical and sterile that he doesn’t quite know how good touch is supposed to feel. He’s so touch starved that he’s almost positive he doesn't even need it.

Slowly, he builds a tolerance for it, much like one does with alcohol, constantly checking his boundaries and letting him control the situation and he’s all for movie night, huddled up on the couch, or waking up with his head on your chest. His own personal pillow.

There are, however, moments when his need to make someone tremble with fear and then blodgeon them to death with a can opener from their own kitchen becomes too strong, so he tries to keep away from you. In the past, he might have used you to satisfy similar desires of a sexual nature and may have really hurt you but he knows that it’s not always enjoyable to you.

Then, you stop touching him. Much like Jason, he starts to think you’ve become sick of him. Sick of his coldness, his muteness, his withdrawn demeanor. Maybe you’ve moved on and he tries to tell himself he doesn’t care but he doesn't think he can see himself touching anyone but you now.

It gets to the point where he comes home one day and you look heavily troubled, expressions he’s seen on your face before, only in the event that something terrible has happened. You ask to speak to him and he obliges.

You explain that you don’t think this relationship is working, that you’re pretty sure he’s disgusted with you and how difficult this event is because you didn't even want to talk about it but it's been hurting you for too long.

His response is to stand up very slowly, pick you up and lay down with you over him, simply laying there. Hopefully, knowing you’re the one person he would ever allow to participate in this intimacy is enough to show you that you mean more than you think you do to him.

RZ Michael Myers:

This Michael is more perceptive to your touch than his counterpart, your touch sends little shivers down his spine and as soon as he gets pretty used to it, he’s eager for more. This also takes some time but significantly less. He’s enamored with the idea of returning to a somewhat normal life. Your affection grounds him in that fantasy as much as being a murderer might take him out of it.

As he establishes a relationship with you, he may even be the one to start touching you instead of the other way around. He’s read books and always wondered what it might feel like to have someone genuinely touch him without fear in their eyes. Without malice.

An unsuccessful ‘day at work’ might have Michael feeling a little het up though. He can be moody and more rageful. Neither you nor his hobbies can calm him. He seems colder than usual in these states and can come off as very standoffish.

So when you try and touch him and he shrugs your hand off his shoulder, he can’t or isn't in the state of mind to address your frown and worried look. Michael, instead stomps off somewhere to be alone for a while; maybe take his anger out on something else. Some unsuspecting soul or maybe even a poor animal in the wrong place at the wrong time.

After he’s calmed down some, he returns and almost forgot about that sad little gleam in your eye before he left. Michael remembers when he sees you blankly staring at the TV, pointedly avoiding his gaze even as you utter a weak welcome home. It’s not very welcoming. He sits stiffly beside you, watching you from the corner of his eye. You’re closed off from him and he doesn't like it at all.

Migrating towards you slowly, he eases you into a familiar hug, his big bear hugs that are a little tight but inviting all the same. His huge torso and long arms seem to swallow you in his warmth. You hardly reciprocate. You look a little surprised. Though he never addresses it verbally, (which is probably better for you) Michael offers a single glance that communicates everything he needs to say. Don't ever think that again.

Thomas B. Hewitt:

Thomas’ self esteem issues and self image are not good. He honestly doesn’t like to imagine what he looks like to other people unless it can be as a threatening man you don’t fuck with. Meeting you, he realizes that it’s good to protect his family but he’d rather you not see him as someone only capable of harm. Tries his best to get the point across that while Hoyt may be adamant that horrible things happen to you, he’s not going to let them.

Thomas has received affection but always a familial affection. A pat on the back from Monty, proud claps to his shoulders from uncle Charlie, and hugs and kisses from his dear Mother. Nothing so foreign as a strangers touch over his arm or a soft embrace.

Unfortunately, Thomas can get reactive when you attempt to touch him without his mask on. He’s absolutely settled on the false reality that you’ll see his face and immediately decide that you never want to touch him again. Interacting with you with his bare face? That's a no for Thomas.

He puts on his mask that covers the scarred skin over his face and you look dejected. He was preparing for you to pressure him but instead finds himself trying to find out why you won’t touch him now. It’s not his face, is it? You respond with your reasoning. Thomas is so confused. How could you think that you disgust him? That he doesn’t want you to touch him?

He’s quicker than the others and immediately sweeps you up into his arms and holds you as close as humanly possible. Feeling disgusting and like some sort of burden is a feeling he’s so familiar with and if he can take it away from you, he will.

Will aggressively initiate touch with you for the next week or so just to solidify the fact that he cares about you and won't reject you just as you didn’t reject him.

Bubba Sawyer:

Bubba is a great cuddle buddy and partner. Hugs are his favorite and he hugs his brother all the time, lifting both Nubbins and Chop Top into the air for some brotherly love. If you’re smaller than them he’s all about picking you up and perhaps a little rough housing with you. He’s careful though or at least there are attempts made to be careful

Bubba, though he could easily spend the whole day doing nothing and everything with you, has work. Chores, butchering. Cooking, and tending livestock. Plenty to do at the sawyer house and he does most of it. Suffice to say there are times when you want to lather attention all over him yet he has to go back to work.

So caught up in work that he doesn't get what's going on til way later, when you’ve had time to stew in your emotions, firmly telling yourself that Bubba is annoyed by you probably. He’s baffled and confused at your silence, your crossed arms. The little furrow in your brow. He can already tell there’s something upsetting you.

Honestly, Bubba is so affectionate I can’t see him being the kind of person even capable of alluding to the fact he might be disgusted by you. How, if all he wants to do is love you? You may bring it up as a joke that you thought he didn’t like you and he almost seems offended. Not like you?

Bubba can squash any feelings you may have about that and then some. He will not let you drown in insecurities, not on his watch. This man will do everything in his power to make you feel beautiful because you really are.

I’m sorry these are super long but thanks for requesting!

#slasher x reader #michael myers #michael myers x reader #halloween #rz halloween movie #rz michael myers #rz michael myers x reader #jason voorhees #jason voorhees x reader #friday the 13th #thomas brown hewitt x reader #thomas brown hewitt #thomas hewitt #bubba sawyer x reader #bubba sawyer #leatherface x reader #texas chainsaw massacre #slashers

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ali-kitkat · 3 years

Text

Strangeness and Charm

MGI 2021 One-Year Anniversary Gift Exchange

hello, im back for a little post for @khneltea you are the recipient for enemies to lovers and by gods i hope you like this! romantic, or well its implied, daminette enemies to lovers! also tagging @issaxcharlie as per requested in the server!

fic is under the cut!

Marinette understood that the bat team was sent to Paris to help her; now that it was just herself against Papillon, but she really wanted to kick Robin’s teeth in. She couldn’t stand him. He was a self-centered, entitled, little shit. How dare he come into her city and tell her how to do her job?

The akuma attacks had been sporadic since she had revoked Chat Noir’s miraculous and the only attack that had occurred since Robin and the rest of the bats had arrived was Mister Pigeon. However, if she was being honest with herself that hardly counted as an attack in her or anyone’s books anymore.

It took all of her self control to not throttle him on the rooftop, after she had cast the miraculous cure, when he said “If this is what qualifies as an attack for you, I would hate to see how you would fare against even one of Gotham’s villains.” She was livid, he had based his opinions on akuma attacks by one attack and one attack only.

He had only been in Paris for a week and this is how he treated her, because of one little flare up by their resident akuma magnet? He had no idea what even counted as an attack in Paris nowadays.

Mister Pigeon? Definitely not.

Siren? Absolutely.

Due to him being close to her in age, she had constantly paired up with him during her nightly patrols and she hated it. She wondered if this was his team's way of trying to get him to socialize or work on his people skills. If so, they were doing an absolutely shit job of it.

At this point she really had debated whether or not being on Batman’s shit list would be worth dangling Robin from the Eiffel Tower by his ankles. She could do it. She knows she could, she had done it before in fact, to Chat before she took his miraculous away from him. In the end, she decided that it wouldn’t be worth the trouble it would cause her; but if she did accidentally hit him with her yo-yo while patrolling with him that night, no one would be the wiser.

She elected to ignore the muttered curses and detoured from her usual route in an attempt to get away from the miserable bastard. Of course, Robin then scolded her for running away and being an inferior hero. At that point she decided to put even more distance between them, only to prevent herself from injuring a potential ally. If he could even be called that with his constant berating and demeanor.

It was then that she heard a scream, an akuma. Kwami, she hoped it wasn’t Sandboy again, especially since his usual appearances were during the night.

She cast a quick glance at Robin and decided to leave him be. She took off in the direction of the scream, he was preoccupied by something on his gauntlet, if the blue light it was emitting was an indicator. Besides she had been fighting akumas for years now, the last thing she needed was Robin’s attitude and chiding rather than his help.

He didn’t need to see her nightmares either if it was in fact Sandboy who was akumatized as well. Sure, she wasn’t exactly the same thirteen year old girl she was when she first started battling akumas but Robin certainly didn’t need any more ammunition to use against her.

He didn’t need to see that her nightmares were of herself, whispering in her ear, telling her to give up. That she was a failure, that she should just let Papillon have the miraculous. It would all be over, it wasn’t like she would remember that she was Ladybug anyways. Whatever wish he would make would erase the current timeline out of existence. She hated seeing it.

When she touched down on the street, the first thing she noticed was that it was empty. There was no sign of any akuma, no destruction or frozen bodies. There wasn’t anything, it was too empty, as if the people had just up and disappeared. It was incredibly unnerving.

Casting another look around, she saw something dart into the shadows of an alleyway. She jumped to a neighboring rooftop and looked down. There it was, the akuma. They didn’t look like anything special, no obnoxious colours or outrageous outfits. Just someone in a simple, sleek suit in muted colours, their hair tied back in a dark braid and a drooping butterfly mask that looked like ruined eyeliner.

They looked up and made eye contact. She flung herself back on the rooftop. The akuma’s eyes looked empty, there was no emotion or life in them. It was disconcerting.

She looked back down into the alleyway to try to get another read on the akuma. They were gone. She rose to her feet and looked around again, just in case she missed something.

“Well, well, well. Look at what we have here,” a low, gravelly voice called out. It sounded as if they had gargled glass. Marinette quickly turned around to see the akuma at the other end of the rooftop. “A little ladybug all alone. Let us see what kind of memories you hold, heroine.”

Then suddenly the akuma was in front of her, arm outstretched and their hand was pressed against her forehead. She watched as her memories played out in real time before her and the akuma. She watched as her memories played side by side, all at once. It was headache inducing.

Marinette saw the first friend she made in almost a decade. She saw Lila threaten her and her friendships. She saw the day she had met Tikki, and the day she had received guardianship of the miracle box from Fu. She watched as flashes of her homelife flashed by, the few happy memories of her parents before the bakery’s popularity increased, before they began to neglect her. Before Lila’s honeyed words ruined what little she had left of them.

She watched as memories of previous akuma attacks played out. Of how Chat Noir acted away from the crowds and cameras, how treated her like an object to be won rather than a person. She watched as she had scrubbed herself raw in the shower after he had touched her, as she scrubbed her teeth after he forced a kiss on her.

She watched as the attacks ended and her reunions with her friends had turned into screaming fits. The shouts of how she was flakey and that if she was just going to hang out with them only to ditch them halfway through their time together that they were no longer going to be friends anymore, that they were better off without her. She watched as Lila smiled from across the room, where she comforted her former friend. As Lila’s promises came to fruition.

She watched as her nightmares flashed by just as quick of her looking in the mirror, looking at the scars that the miraculous cure hadn’t healed. As her reflection had started to speak. That she should give up, let Papillon have the miraculous. That she wasn’t worth it, that she was all alone. As the whispered words of her former friends had joined in. She watched as images of Chat had appeared telling her that she was his and no one else’s.

She watched as she was left to pick up the pieces of her life.

Suddenly she was wrenched back and someone was holding her against their person. She could see one of the bat-themed vigilantes fighting against the akuma, it looked to be Red Hood with the way the streetlight was glinting off his helmet. She could hear herself breathing heavily and could feel the tears streaming down her face as she was swung away from the akuma.

When the person holding her landed on a different rooftop, she wrenched herself out of their arms. She hit the rooftop with a thud and scrambled as far away from them as she could possibly get; then she buried her face in her knees. She covered her ears with her hands, hoping to block out the unrelenting images of her memories and nightmares. She didn’t want to see or hear anything. She certainly didn’t want to see anyone’s pitying looks or hear their scorn. She just wanted to forget, this akuma was most definitely Papillon’s newest masterpiece.

She flinched when a hand settled on her shoulder and tried to inch away from it, without removing her hands from her ears. Unfortunately, the hand remained, grounding her ever so slightly. Finally she gave in and looked up. Robin was watching her, but rather than disdain or pity, his face was pinched with concern. She huffed out a laugh, it was weak and made Robin flinch. She shrugged his hand off and stood; she held her head high and wiped her tears away. Ignoring his questioning looks, she tossed her yo-yo out.

“Ladybug,” he said softly.

“Don’t. Whatever you have to say, keep it to yourself. I don’t care,” she croaked. She didn’t want to hear anything he had to say, she just wanted to be done with this night and its horrors.

“Ladybug,” he repeated. “Regardless of whatever you might think or feel, you are not alone. There are plenty of other heroes who know exactly how you feel, who have been exactly where you are.”

That stopped her in her tracks. Of course Robin of all people had seen her memories, her nightmares and her fears. She turned and glared at him, though she imagined it wasn’t all that effective. What with her tear streaked face and red eyes.

“I know how you feel,” Robin sighed and she deflated. “That your best is not enough, that you, yourself are not good enough. I have been in your shoes. I have felt alone.”

“Well, you certainly don’t act like it,” she sniped bitterly, closing in on herself.

“I apologize,” Robin stated.

“What?”

“I am sorry,” he repeated. “I realize that I may have come off as too brusque and in doing so have diminished your accomplishments.”

“Why?” she asked. “Why are you apologizing? You have nothing to be sorry for. You were right, I don’t know what I’m doing. I’m just playing at being a hero. My villain just found out my identity and so did all of you and your team.”

“That being, it was not, nor is it, your fault,” he replied. “I made assumptions of which I am at fault for, and of which caused the predicament of which you have found yourself in. You cannot quit or give up because of several imbeciles, because if you do, you let them win. You do not strike me as a sore loser, Ladybug.”

Marinette let out a laugh and watched as Robin’s expression shifted. He no longer looked concerned, but was now smiling wryly at her. She returned the smile. “Thank you Robin.”

“You are welcome,” he said. “Now I believe you have an akuma to take care of? Would you care for some assistance?”

“I would,” she replied.

“I look forward to working with you more,” he said, “Marinette.”

Marinette nodded, feeling her face flush at the way Robin said her name. “I do too Robin. I do too.”

#maribat #daminette #mgi 1 year anniversary #ali-kitkat's writing #ali-kitkat writes #i live

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shotosprincess · 3 years

Note

BAKUGO SCREAMING AND IZUKU

( ˘ ³˘)♥︎ AAAA HIII TYSM FOR REPLYING TO THE BNHA PLAYLIST THINGY FOR FICS I LOVE YOU MWAHMWAH

anyways aaa bet !! ill do midoriya first if you don’t mind bc im currently in such a soft mood and hajdjj i just love him sm :((

— 𝙠𝙞𝙨𝙨𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙨𝙘𝙖𝙧𝙨 𝙤𝙣 𝙤𝙣 𝙞𝙯𝙪𝙠𝙪 𝙢𝙞𝙙𝙤𝙧𝙞𝙮𝙖’𝙨 𝙖𝙧𝙢𝙨

inspired by this playlist by nimbus on yt !! pls check them out ansjdjf their playlists r heaven ^^

❝ you never truly understood that about him, the way he continued to put himself through the pain, to push himself, even, past his limits and then some—

plus ultra. and now his arms were all but littered with rough scars of diluted white and blunt tan. ❞

notes ! gender neutral! reader,, best friends to lovers au ,, 2nd person pov

summary: in which your best friend deku shows up at your dorm late at night due to kacchan locking him out. he asks for bandages to stabilize his newly-healed scars, and you ask to kiss them.

genre: fluff !! <33

it went without a doubt that deku had been to recovery girls’ office more times than anyone else at the academy. it hurt, honestly; each time you saw his still-healing figure emerge from the little swing of her door, a sharp pang reverberated starkly through your chest, for though the freshly-scarred over wounds didn’t diminish his beauty in the slightest, you simply couldn’t deny that an empty eddy of sadness settled in you whenever he was in such a state.

and unfortunately for you, he was constantly in it.

his body could only take so much. and he was still so young too—the very same held true for your heart.

it’s been that way ever since the two of you had first entered ua as shining, eager students. though in all fairness you had to admit, he was...different from the very beginning. even as the prelude to his eventual rising and growth in his quirk, he had shone with a certain unmatched brilliance ever since the entrance exams. and over the years you spent together, you had watched him persevere so passionately towards the glow of his ultimate goal; to be a hero who can help others. little did he know just how much he already had. he had always been so excruciatingly oblivious and aloof to even the evidence and affects of his own kindness, and you hated the fact that so many tended to take advantage of it. of him.

though, of course, this did not mean that he was weak in any form. no, if anything he was quite the polar opposite—he had proved it time and time again, and yet it didn’t mean that he couldn’t get hurt too. the dull aching of tiredness ringing in his eyes, the one he tries to desperately to mask, the ragged marks scattered across the pale valleys of his once-scar-barren skin; he wasn’t immune to pain, to injury. and yet, he fought. you never truly understood that about him, the way he continued to put himself through the pain, to push himself, even, past his limits and then some—

plus ultra. and now his arms were all but littered with rough scars of diluted white and blunt tan.

nevertheless, truth be told, you actually admired it a great deal. his sheer determination, the purity of his motives, it was more than laudable. despite all of it, you truly couldn’t help but feel this...magnetic urge to help him. protect him. if you could soothe the pain in any way, even if it would be but a temporary relief—

three knocks clack on the door.

you and izuku’s secret door code—just a silly little something the two of you made up a few months after the dorm system had been put into motion, and all so you could sneak out to the grass-flooded yards of the building and train together.

naturally, you open the door.

“ heyyy there you are! “

your head perks up at the cheery jingling of his voice, all drafts of exhaustion and sleep deprivation washing away almost instantaneously. he might as well be the very personification of caffeine at that point, despite how direly he needed it himself.

the starry shine of his eyes meets with yours as a diluted sanguine seeped colour into his face. he turns his head away awkwardly.

you lean against the doorframe, smiling at him. “ deku...you didn’t tell me we’d be training today. plus it’s a little late right now, don’t you think? i’m already in my pajamas. “

“ yeah, um, sorry about that. kacchan...kinda locked me out. “

“ he what? “

“ he locked me out. “

“ how does that even—don’t you have separate rooms? “

“ well, yeah, but we were racing down the halls after glass today and he...got to my room before i could. well, honestly i have no clue what he’s doing over there. “ he laughs, rubbing the back of his neck.

“ oookay then. little concerning, i won’t lie. “ your shoulders lift in a shrug, arms crossing in front of your chest as your shy laugh matches his.

“ so i was wondering if...you know...i could maybe stay here for a bit? “ his voice wavers subtly, though you’re quick to catch it. the tips of his ears flush with a deepened pink.

you can’t help but silently gush about how cute he looked.

you’re quick to snap out of that too. eyes bursting open with a brilliant shock, you notice he’s fiddling nervously with his fingers as you remain absolutely, positively frozen in place.

“ i’m—what? “

his countenance immediately shifts to one of sheer embarrassment. flustered, he begins to frantically wave his hands in front of him, as if to put some sort of considerable distance between his panicking self and your seemingly-composed demeanour. and as if that would do anything to deescalate the tension which was only progressively building between your equally-timid selves at this moment.

“ ohmygod i didn’t mean it in a weird way or anything! i’m sorry, i’m sorry, i’ll just—i’ll just go— “

you slide against the wood a little bit, pushing your weight against the slightly-agape door, so it swung open even further to reveal the, admittedly, fairly-messy state of your room. draped carelessly on the side of your bed, a sweater you had taken off earlier because the temperature of your room had suddenly decided to heat up an unreasonable amount. countable cups holding shallow pools of hour-old drinks scattered throughout nearly every shelf. a creased textbook splayed out, cover up on your desk.

yep. definitely looked like someone’s lived here.

“ i mean...you could come in if you want. no one’s stopping you. it’s a little messy though, i haven’t found much time to properly clean it yet, with exams coming soon and stuff. “ a small smile accompanies your growing blush, despite how much you were trying to play it off as nonchalantly as possible.

psh, right. as if letting him in your room—something you had never done prior in the history of your friendship—wasn’t a big deal in the slightest.

his eyes shoot wide as his arms flail about. you have to keep yourself from laughing at his silliness.

“ uhm, i mean...only if that’s okay with you! “

“ yeah, yeah, of course! you need a place to stay for now, after all. who knows when bakugou’s gonna let you back in? “

“ yeah, i guess you’re right. well, i mean, if you really don’t mind— “

you playfully roll your eyes, giggling as you shove him into your room.

“ oh, quit it with the politeness. you’re too nice, you know that? “

“ too...nice? “

“ too nice. “ you reiterate, giving his shoulders a little squeeze.

his head lolls to the side as he carefully lowers himself onto your bed, his sweater shifting with the subtle movement.

for a few moments, the space between you is occupied with a simple, comfortable silence. it’s refreshing, really. a welcome difference from all the boisterousness of the academy. you loved the action and everyone’s energy, of course, but sometimes what you really needed was really just a simple break from everything. to do nothing but exist for a little while, to simply be without the constant pressure of having to get up and jump into action all the time. just for a few moments. and so you relished in these said moments spent with him, for who knows when the next time you could ever be with him like this again would be?

and then his voice fills that void of silence, but you’re not disappointed in the slightest.

“ hey. “

“ yeah? “

“ you don’t happen to have any extra bandages, do you? “

“ bandages? for what? “

he clenches his fist, flexing the muscles in his arm. “ for...stability. just in case. i can’t afford for my arms to get hurt more. “

“ oh. well, uhm...i think i have a few spares in my drawer! “ you push yourself off the bed, leaving the comfort the soft sheets brought about, pulling open a tiny drawer. taking out a transparent box of bandages, you jump back onto the plushness, sitting cross-legged directly across from midoriya, who’s already presenting his arm.

your lips silently part as your fingers wrap themselves around the thick ivory fabrics of bandage, rolling them around so you could wrap them around him.

another pause of wordless silence falls.

“ hey deku? “

“ yeah? “

“ could i...could i kiss your scars? “ you whisper, afraid that he’d get mad, though you knew he was anything but the type to do such a thing.

the meadow depths of his eyes kindle a cozy hearth within you as his initial surprise quickly softens, melting away into what could only be described as the most endearing smile to exist.

“ sure. “

jagged patches and uneven streaks of faded cloud white and prominent earthy tans decorate his arms, and you can’t help but bring the rosiness of your lips to meet them. you decide begin with the ones littered along his fingers.

one kiss for the scar resting within the curved dip between his thumb and index.

“ for every time you used just a flick of your fingers to defend everyone back then, when you didn’t even have full control over your quirk. “

a longing sigh leaves him as he reminisces briefly on the memory. you place a soft kiss upon the scar resting at the side of his pinky.

“ for every fist you made with this hand, for every punch you’ve delivered in the name of other’s safety. “

a drop splashed onto his arm, trickling down and tainting the scars etched into his forearm with a subtle, diaphanous sheen. you look up through your lashes, and a prominent gloss coats the kindness of his dark emeralds. your hand comes up to carefully caress his cheek, cupping it gently as the pad of your thumb swipes beneath his eye, wiping away the upcoming tear. your features are knitted together in concern.

“ are you okay? i can stop if you want me to— “

he takes your hand in both of his, squeezing as if to keep you there forever. “ no, don’t. please.“

it’s a tiny whisper, a softened plea into the dark quiet of the night, as if he were ashamed for wanting to be taken care of. your brows curve downward as you pull your twined hands to your lips, tenderly planting your lips where your skin kissed his.

“ hey, hey. it’s okay. it’s okay. “ you hush him, running your free hand through his thick tendrils of vivid, verdant green.

he leans into your touch, nodding at you as if to urge you to continue, which you gladly accept.

you shift a little closer to him, kissing the thick mark of serration painted into the skin of his wrist.

“ for every countless moment you’ve sacrificed for your dream. “

another kiss to the one just above it.

“ for every hour bled into the night that you spent helping me train. “

your fingers dance along his arm, finally stopping at the scar stretching from his elbow and dragging upwards. as per routine, your lips come down to delicately kiss it.

“ for every ‘ plus ultra! ‘ you’ve ever passionately shouted. “

little giggles left the both of you at that.

your touch trails to the scar just beside it, kissing it as well.

“ for every life you’ve ever saved. “

you look him in the eye. holding his arm like this, you were so close to him. and yet, you didn’t want to pull away. if anything, it was the very last thing you would ever want to do. he matched your stare, a certain sense of longing displaying in your gaze as it reflects off of his. the prolonged stare lasts longer than it probably should, longer than what best friends should probably look at each other this closely, this intimately for. the moonlight dimly shines through your window.

and then it happens.

his lips collide with yours in a captivating symphony, hands going straight to twirl through the locks of your hair as you wrap yours in a loose loop around his neck. everything feels as though it had all snapped into place, and the tension you had felt before was all completely dissipated now, displaced into the passion in which this kiss exuded. it was earth-shattering, galaxy-shredding. it felt as if even pain itself could never reach either of you, not in this moment.

this moment was for the both of you, and no one else. in this moment, in his arms, nothing and no one could hurt you.

he pulls away, stunned, lips parted with a saturated red. you stare at him with just about the same level of blankness, of utter shock at what you two had just done.

but then the realization catches up with him, and he is pulled out of the daze. much to your surprise, he doesn’t move away. if anything, he pulls you closer, enveloping both your hands within his just as he did before.

and just as you had done earlier, he brings them to his lips.

“ and that’s for every ‘ i love you ‘ i’ve ever wanted to say to you but never had the guts to. “

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yesimwriting · 3 years

Text

Falling Angels: chapter two

A/n took me longer to get around to writing part 2 than i thought!! i didn’t know there was an audience for this idea but im glad you guys liked it!!

Im adding a country to the grishaverse to make my story work,, def not a big deal i just needed a country in which i could control the history of without worrying about conflicting with cannon lol

Link to part one: https://www.tumblr.com/blog/view/yesimwriting/652318577650696192 (lmk if this works ive never linked something to a tumblr post lol)

Series Summary: Y/n is a rising star in the most famous circus in Ketterdam because of her ability to see the future. Unfortunately for her, Kaz Brekker knows more of her backstory than he should, and he’s willing to use that to his advantage. The one thing he’s not betting on? That he doesn’t know her entire story

Chapter summary: Y/n gets a visitor before getting tricked into the most dangerous show of her life.

Pairng: SOC x reader, Kaz Brekker x sunshine-y! Psychic! Reader

My father seemed to love me more after two glasses of something amber. It was after these two glasses that he would tell me realities his inebriated self believed I needed to internalize. He’d pat my head affectionately and smiled at me as he told me that the world was a bad place. Most of his lessons are lost in my mind, but the one I remember most clearly is that there’s no such thing as a kept secret. There’s always a leak or a flaw or a factor you could not account for. He told me that if I wanted to keep a secret, I would have to decide what I was willing to risk for it.

I know from Seria’s reaction to his presence that listening to Kaz is a risk, but it’s a risk I’m willing to take for my secret. “I don’t know what you think I am, but you’re mistaken.” It doesn’t really matter that he believes me. I have the paperwork I need to disprove him. “I have to get to my tent.”

“The princess gets her own tent?” His words are saturated by mock casualness but I can feel his pride on how he delivered that line.

My body is still tense from balancing over flames and his confidence only adds to my desire to unravel. I can’t get angry here. Not at him. Not with the way he grips that cane of his. “I don’t understand what--”

“You may be able to play pretend here where no one wants to look twice at you, but I know what you are.” His stiffness leaves my skin prickling. “I know who you are.”

I swallow back my panic. “Then who am I?”

“You’re that king’s bastard--the one with a high bounty on her head.” Don’t back down. Even the smallest crack will confirm his story. “As long as she’s returned alive.”

Thoughts of what my father would do to me if ever given the chance strike me with more anxiety than his presence does. “I’ve heard of the girl you’re talking about,” I admit, the lie leaving me as easily as the air leaves my lungs when I exhale. “But I’m not her.”

“You’re not from Ketterdam, if you were you would have known who I was after you friend referred to me as Dirtyhands.” I have no defense, but I never claimed to be from Ketterdam. “You make your business claiming to be a psychic.” I am a psychic, but now is not the time to make that argument. “Elkosa is a relatively small and self efficient port kingdom, the island is nothing more than a jagged coastline barely larger than Ketterdam, but I have connections in all places.” He knows someone from Elkosa? I have to fight the instinct to move all of my weight on the balls of my feet, prepared to run. “A captain of the royal fleet told me the story of the night the King’s bastard ran into the meeting room the night before ten ships were meant to sail to Ravka.”

He studies my reaction as I struggle to keep my expression blank. “None of that seems connected.”

“Patience is a virtue most Saints are familiar with.” I roll my eyes. “The bastard couldn’t have been more than nine at the time, but the guards did not want to let her in. The King told them to let her interrupt. The sailor noted this because he had never made an exception to his meeting before. The girl described a nightmare to her father, a nightmare of a storm and ten dead birds. The king did not comfort her, she finished her story by saying that he asked to know about all of her dreams. She went back upstairs and the King continued the meeting as normal but the next day the King cancelled the trip.”

I remember that night as the night I realized that if I’m not careful, I’ll feel what I see in my visions. It felt like I was drowning. I felt the death of each of those men and instead of comforting me, my father nodded once like I had offered him advice and sent me back to my room. “And?” My defense is weak, my mind too lost in the memories of drowning. “Many smaller countries are superstitious.”

“The next day the worst storm to have impacted that ocean occurred. For four nights and three days the storm continued.”

I press my nails into my palms. “You don’t believe that I am precognitive, so that sailor’s unverified story has nothing to do with me.”

“A princess that can see the future disappears at the same time a failing circus hires a girl who has no business in this city who claims to be able to see the future.” He adjusts his stance, taking pressure off the cane as if he’s preparing to need to use it for something else. “I am not fool enough to believe in coincidence.”

“And I am not fool enough to crack beneath the vague threats of a man. In my experience, men always threaten with a blade when really all they’re in possession of is a butter knife. Try to drag me from here kicking and screaming, find a way to incapacitate me and put me on a ship to Elkosa, but when the King sees that you brought him a stranger he will have your head.”

He blinks, expression hard as stone. I tense, preparing for a physical blow. “I didn’t expect you to be a half-decent liar, but I should have.” I bite my tongue to avoid resorting to something I can’t take back. Like begging. “Even if it’s in only half your blood.”

“I am not her.” My stubbornness burns more than the need to survive. I inhale, hoping to shake the grasp of the sensation but it only worsens. The pinch of dread in my chest is heavy and familiar. A vision.

No. Not now--not in front of him. I push against it even though I know that only makes it worse. Not now. Not now. I should be grounding myself but all I can think about is how stupid I am and how bad this situation is.

“I’m not an idiot, I know to be quiet. I see myself crouched somewhere dark.

“Being defensive doesn’t make you any more intelligent.” It takes me a minute to recognize Kaz in the darkness.

We’re somewhere small, our backs against the same wall but our shoulders do not touch. This vision is enshrouded by the feel of panic.

This other me grimaces, but her eyes lack anger, “Remind me why I agreed to help you again?”

“You never told me why,” he admits, “you can change your mind on participating and I can change my mind on whether or not you're more useful than your father’s money.”

Something loud crashes from behind the door we’re both staring at. “You’ll have no use for me or my father’s money if we die here.” I squeeze my hands together.

He hesitates, “My ghost will.”

The future-me almost smiles. “I wonder if I’ll be able to see ghost futures.” I hesitate, something strange behind my eyes. “I wonder if that can exist, if there’s a future beyond endings.”

Future-Kaz is silent for a long second. “There should be,” he says, “for someone like you, at least.”

I watch the way I take in his words. “You’d be there, too,” my voice is low, “your ghost at least.” I turn my head, staring at the door instead of him, “If you weren’t, I’d miss the brooding.”

The vision leaves me with sweaty palms and swirling thoughts. All of my visions do that. Not all of them make me feel so confused. Apparently, he needs help and I agree to do so. At one point we’ll be pushed into a life or death situation and I won’t loathe him.

I blink twice, forcing myself to hold onto the reality in front of me. I don’t have to agree--the future isn’t set in stone. For all I know tomorrow morning I’ll have a vision in which he kills me.

“Are you ignoring me?”

Shaking my head, I turn to face him. “You need help.” I don’t wait for his reaction. “You’re not here to return someone to the King of Elkosa, you’re here because you need someone that can see the future.”

“I--”

“It’s not that you won’t take me to Elkosa, it’s that you’d rather use my abilities for something.”

I’m confusing him again, but that’s okay. I’d rather deal with him confused than angry. “I need to know how a certain business deal of mine is going to be worth what it costs.”

He’s spent the entire time claiming he doesn’t believe in my power. Was that some kind of tactic? In the vision I saw, despite the panic surrounding the situation I didn’t feel panicked around him. The probability of that future occurring is probably low. I’ve been wrong before, the future changes too much for me to know everything.

“That’s not how readings work,” I admit, “I don’t have that much control on them. Most of them come to me randomly. The events I see always involve me or someone I care about to a certain capacity. I can give someone a general glimpse into their future but I can’t promise I’ll see what they want. Sometimes I can see the general vision by just focusing on their energy but usually I need some physical contact for it to work.” That seems like a fair explanation. “Oh--and not all of my predictions come true, most are blurry, few are solid--the future is always moving.”

Wait...the vision I saw where I was with Kaz wasn’t blurry. Those can be wrong, but it’s much rarer. Do I really agree to this?

“Then maybe I should make it involve you.” His aggression has me forcing myself to stand my ground. He can threaten me all he wants but that won’t change things. “Or take the money your father would give me and cut my losses.”

Every time I’ve purposefully destroyed a solid vision, something bad has happened. I’m genuinely considering it. “What do you need a psychic for, anyways?”

“To get through the Fold.”

Despite everything, I laugh. “I’ve never seen anyone get through the Fold, literally or in my visions.”

He’s unphased by my doubt. “It’s happened.”

I really don’t want to help him. “Well then good luck, I’m happy to part ways here.”

I manage one step forward before he moves his cane in front of my path. I’m getting tired of this. “You’re assisting me one way or the other, whether that aid will be financial or through your services is up to you.”

Anger pinches in my stomach the way it often does when I’m told what to do. The one thing centering me is the vision still reflecting in my thoughts. There’s no denying it--I had felt comfortable with him. There is a future in which I feel comfortable with him and I’m not sure I’ll be able to avoid it.

“I won’t get in trouble for you,” I tell him, “The Ringmaster holds onto those indentured to him, especially the commodities that bring him profit.”

There’s something stiff about his silence. I wonder if he’s always like this, pushing the weight of his presence onto those around him without saying a word. “When I have a goal, it is achieved. I’ll speak to him.”

I cannot imagine a conversation I want to be involved in less. The Ringmaster and this man that Seria had labeled ‘Dirtyhands’. “I just had a vision--I saw your entire conversation and it ends with you missing an arm.” His stoic expression does not shift. “Okay, I’m aware that it wasn’t the funniest joke, but throw me a bone--you threatened to kidnap me and sell me to my father in order to extort me and I’ve been nothing but polite to you.”

He’s quiet for a moment, something in his expression changing in a way I can’t read. “All you’ve done is lie since the moment you started to speak to me.”

The optimist in me would like to think that his annoyance counts for banter. I shrug, feeling a little lighter than I did a second ago. I’m certainly not comfortable but I’m starting to see how to put up with the tension without letting it strain me. “Well, polite for my standards.”

I let him brood. “You must have done well as a royal.”

My past cuts through the peace I managed to grab onto. It’s not his fault, he has no way of knowing what the castle was like for me. I open my mouth, but I don’t know what I’m going to say. “I had my moments,” I finally settle on, hoping the echo of pain isn’t visible behind my eyes.

I guess it doesn’t matter if he sees me bleed. He’s heartless, and I hate sympathy.

“Y/n,” Seria’s voice is genuine anger, “You’ve turned into an idiot--first the tightrope walk and now entertaining whatever deal he’s trying to coax from you.” I love Seria, she’s the reason I didn’t die in the street when I first arrived in Ketterdam, but she sees me as a mindless child. “Whatever he told you, whatever he promised you--it’s a lie.”

“He hasn’t promised me anything.” I need to calm her down. Once she’s calm, everything will be normal again. “And he knows.” I don’t have to turn to feel the way Seria gapes at me. “He knows who I am, so I have to do what he wants.”

“You never have to do anything a man is forcing onto you, y/n. We’ll find a way--”

“Seria, it’s fine,” I reach to touch her arm, “I’ll be fine, you can’t protect me from everything and you don’t have to.”

Kaz throws a pointed glare at the man who was with him earlier. When did the stranger get here? “Boss, she’s faster than she looked, but I have what we need to get the girl--”

“You’re late,” Kaz sighs, bored, “she’s agreed.”

Wait--what was he going to do if I didn’t agree? “Out of curiosity, what are you talking about?” The man blinks twice, squeezing a rag between his ring-clad fingers. “You were going to use chloroform to kidnap me, weren’t you?”

For some reason I don’t understand, the stranger gives me a look that’s a cross between sheepish and charming. “Nothing personal.”

“Or original.”

Seria pinches my arm. “Y/n,” she scolds, “your sense of humor is going to kill me one of these days.”

I cringe, pulling my arm away. “When I met you, you were pickpocketing in the pleasure district, please remember that.”

She rolls her eyes. “An attitude like that is going to leave you without a place to sleep at night.”

I take her comment for the empty threat it is. Every other day she’s threatening to kick me out of her private trailer so that I’m forced to fight for cots or speak to the Ringmaster about my lodging arrangements. He’d give me what I want, but speaking to him feels so slimy I’d sleep in the woods before trying it.

“Kaz.” I turn my head in time to see the girl that gave me the advice about the tightrope walker. “We need to go, he’s coming soon--you’ll do better to speak to him in the morning after she’s gone, that way he has nothing to hold over your head.”

“Once I’m gone?” The girl had called me a Saint. I can appeal to her. “I’m not--I’m not going anywhere, I said I’d help.”

Her eyes widen, sympathy reflected clearly in her dark irises. “There was never a version of this in which you ended up staying here.” I hear a hint of apology in her voice. “You won’t believe me, but I promise this will be better for you.” All of her pity is gone with those, replaced by something hard.

Seria responds for me, “I think you should go.”

“What?”

She almost smiles, but her eyes are painfully sad. “I never wanted you to be here forever. I don’t trust these people, but I trust their ability to get you out of here, even if only for a little while. Bad things are coming, and I think you’ll miss the worst of it if you go now.”

What she alludes to is a blade in my heart. “You want me to leave you here to deal with it?”

“Y/n, I’ve been hurt here more times than I can count--”

“No, I won’t leave y--”

Seria squeezes my shoulder, “It’s not forever.” When she wants something, it’s almost impossible to get around it. “Besides, if I need you, you’ll see it.”

My world feels to have lost the vibrance of color. I’ve left so much, but I let myself believe I wouldn’t leave her. I pull her into the hug. “The moment I see a vision of you in any type of danger, I’m coming back.” I hug her even tighter when she tries to pull away so that I can whisper something in her ear, “I’ll use this opportunity to leave the Ringmaster and then I’ll get you out, and together we’ll leave Ketterdam. We’ll find your child, like you always wanted to and they’ll know that they're lucky because they’re the only kid in the world to have you as a mother.”

She squeezes me so tightly I find it hard to take full breaths. “Two,” Seria whispers, “I have two children.”

My eyes burn as her words find their way into my heart. “I love you, Seria.”

“I love you too, my star,” she pulls away enough so that I can look her in the eye, “you don’t like being called a Saint, but I can’t think of anyone more deserving of the title.”

Tears prick my eyes as she releases me. “I’ll find you.”

“He’ll be coming soon,” the girl warns, “He spoke to an advisor about wanting to find you after the show.”

No doubt to praise the fire stunt he forced onto me. Bastard. I nod once but I don’t move. I can’t bring myself to leave Seria until the girl places a hand on my elbow.

Falling Angels Taglist: @glowstick-lesbian @cashlum @whatiswrongwithpeople @pass-me-jeez-it @thecraziestcrayon

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terrence-silver · 2 years

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Hi there :) I love your blog! Thank you for giving us this wonderful content <3

Could I request ❝ i don’t care if loving you hurts me. the world already has enough pain to dole out for no reason, at least i’ll have gotten these scars from something beautiful. ❞ ?

I would love to see Terry finally finding somebody who would be with him for better or worse. After everything that happened between him and John im season 4, Terry must feel so lonely :(

―

There's a building adjoined to Terry's newly opened Cobra Kai dojo.

It wasn't the exclusive part of LA. Not until he arrived and bought the revenue. He made exclusivity. Gentrifying, they called it. He prefered to see it as ennobling. Giving things purpose. People live there --- an unfortunate fact of life, he supposes, as his workers install the colossal tinted windows, the decorative paneling and the logos of his studio space. He watches these people. Every rock has ants living underneath it once you lift it. Some of these faceless, nameless individuals drag groceries. Some, their children (ripe, potential new students for Cobra Kai --- something to remember as an untapped market), some head to their nonsense places of employment. Some are just taking walks, aimlessly. He has folders and files on everyone. Information. Addresses. He considered buying their building too, just because he could, and evicting everyone. Becoming their landlord. Raising the rent double and triple and culling their numbers. Turning the block into a recreational area of expansion for his Cobras, but no, Terry finds he's content just watching. John was in jail --- it's been three months, two weeks, two days, five hours and twenty eight minutes --- he's kept precise count --- and Terry found solace in the act of observation. He suspected he tended to imagine who of these people would betray who given the opportunity, figuratively speaking. What if you're lonely? He suppresses the thought. Sheds it, like a lone weakness. The last one he had.

There's also a person who walks past his space every day.

Routinely --- there's order to the schedule.

Terry watches them most keenly of all and he cannot tell why. Maybe they're the most annoying and the most frequent pedestrian of the bunch. Maybe he's just irritated that his perfect control over the city is disrupted and that people dare dwell here at all. Bulldoze the place, an inner voice demands but Terry merely keeps sitting there, in his glass office, at his desk, all chromes and blacks and neons and he watches the person outside, passing, like perfect clockwork. The streets on the other end of the window are light, sunbathed, in perfect contrast to the world inside and they pass like a ray. He knows their name. Of course. Knows their social security number too. Beloved, his blood dubs them. They're the only reason why he hasn't razed the place yet. He wanted them, right here, nearby. -"There's an old legend, you know."- -Kim Da-Eun is at the doorway of his office. She's travelled here from Korea as an additional Co-Sensei and Terry knows she's been noticing things. He pretended she didn't notice what she noticed. -"That lovers from a past lives recognize each other."- She continues, arms crossed. -"Maybe you've recognized yours at long last."- Her voice is impassive, cold, not a hint of jovialness to it. She meant every word she was saying in the most profoundly self-assured way imaginable. -"Bullshit."- Terry mutters back in English, not in the mood to indulge anyone, even himself. -"I've work to do."- He gets up from his desk, swiftly. -"The street view should be walled off. It is distracting."- He adds briskly, as a way of ordering, finally, sifting past Kim.

Within the next week, the tinted window is bricked up.

Terry doesn't want to see them.

Beloved.

Terry still sees beloved, though. Control, control, control, he must maintain it. Maybe he had something to get out of his organism, he analyses, so he could function more immaculately? Sex, he figures. Maybe he should make them into a one night stand and then he'd feel more like himself. He knocks on their door like a neighbour would (which he, in a sense was) and introduces himself. Ups his charm and invites them out. They're even warmer upfront and they radiate a light. Like an old snake attracted to the heat, he takes them out, again and again and again, while his Cobras are employed with the business of spreading out fliers for Cobra Kai's new re-opening. Terry wants to eat the restaurant meal they share out of beloved's mouth. He observes them chewing and he wonders how they taste from the inside. What sort of thing they like to be gifted. How their blood smells like. The place between their legs. How they moan and scream reaching their peak. How they beg. How they'd look with his cum splattered all over their face. Ways he could take their hand and place a kiss on it. I want you, his mind concludes. First couple of dates? Was what he said prudent? Perhaps. He wanted to say it while he was still observing beloved through the office window. -❝ I don’t care if loving you hurts me. The world already has enough pain to dole out for no reason, at least i’ll have gotten these scars from something beautiful. ❞-

Terry whispers, eyes intent on the prize, entwining beloved's fingers in his.

He's licked clean each and every one.

Maybe there was something to Kim's words?

Maybe it doesn't take much when you recognize the one?

He moves beloved into his mansion within in the next few days, doesn't take no for an answer and by the time the last Cobra Kai dojo exclusively opens in The Valley, Terry would've commemorated his triumph by placing a coiled serpent promise ring on beloved's fingers. The inscription on the inside of the band says Mine. Terry keeps the building beloved lived in. He finds it has grown on him too.

#terry silver #kk3 #cobra kai #yandere #old man terry #terry silver x reader #terry silver x beloved #don't know what kim da-eun will be like #but i've tried to characterize her #as much as i could

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