#am I still considered alive in this fandom

[fedyaplushie]

an analysis of the fyodor breakdown scene—the truth, an act, or something else entirely?

warning: !!minor spoilers for the brothers karamazov!!

To believe Fyodor is an honest person is the way of the fool, but to mistrust every word he says and view them as lies will not put you in a better position, either.

By dismissing every dialogue of his, you are still, in a way, putting trust in him. Putting trust in the fact that he is a liar. And thus, you may miss out on important, vital information.

He could be hiding some specks of truth in his words, in his actions, and you will never know, because you already marked him as a liar. Yet he is most definitely not a truthful person, either.

So, it is hard to know... when is he lying? When is he telling the truth? When is he leading us to believe that a truth he told is actually a lie?

With Fyodor, it is very difficult to tell, and one of the moments that proves this the most, is the infamous Fyodor breakdown scene from Chapter 108.

Many people have already discussed the Fyodor breakdown scene which has led the fandom to two major conclusions: either he is genuinely being plagued by a second personality (be it via possession or otherwise), or the entire scene was an act, as Fyodor himself claimed.

I myself have thought about this scene many times, and even wrote up my own thread, in which I discussed the possibility of Fyodor suffering from a real mental breakdown after seeing the note, and then quickly coming up with a bullshit lie of having a second personality to throw Sigma off-guard and claim the upper hand, which he was in need of after showing such a vulnerable side to one of his enemies.

As of right now, I have not yet discarded that possibility, for I want to remain open-minded, no matter what curveballs Asagiri may throw at us. However, I wanted to consider other options, too. We always talk about whether Fyodor was acting or not, but what if there's more to it?

Let's break down the scene:

Sigma shows Fyodor, while holding him at gunpoint, the note he found on the ground of the Meursault hallways, the one which has the Russian translation for "help me" written on it.

Fyodor inspects the note before suddenly scooting back and screaming, leaving Sigma confused. He keeps muttering "help me" to himself, continues screaming, until he goes silent, waits a few short seconds, quickly shoots up and asks Sigma, "What year is it?"

The inclusion of that question has definitely rung alarm bells after recent chapters have revealed that Fyodor may or may not be much older than any other mortal human being—it is at least fair to assume that he was somehow alive centuries ago, if his memories are to be believed.

However, I'm much more interested in what happens next...

He speaks of a demon. The demon that is his ability, the ability that took over him due to his own weakness. He switches from using "him," to refer to the demon, to "I," implying that the demon is a part of himself.

Some have taken this to mean that he is possessed in one way or another (especially with the most recent chapters), but I would like to offer up a different interpretation.

Let's assume the entire scenario was genuine... I am not able to answer who may have written the note or why a Russian "help me" would be enough to trigger Fyodor, but let's assume it did, and his breakdown was real.

My thought was, what if this entire spiel with Sigma came as a result of his own mind?

He has allegedly lived for a long time, seeing himself as a servant of God in his quest to bring humanity to the promised land. Living so long, following such a goal so strictly, would have a toll on one's mind, no? We don't know what Fyodor was like before his ability and/or his immortality manifested, so who's to say that serving such an abstract goal for such a long time wouldn't cause one to have a distorted sense of self?

Moments ago, he was screaming and curled up on the floor. It wouldn't be unlikely that such a moment of mental vulnerability would cause his more distorted sense of self to show itself. Especially when one considers that he asked Sigma what year it was the moment he calmed down, he was clearly quite confused over his surroundings.

So, my conclusion was, that the one he calls a "demon" could simply be referring to the parts of himself that his inner self, deeply buried within, despises, or, maybe more accurately, fears the most. Someone whom he can mentally shift the blame onto, speaking of the demon and his ability as if they were one and the same. If the manifestation of his ability (which many believe is what is causing him to be potentially immortal) was what originally caused him to think that he must have been chosen to fulfill some grand quest, then that makes it all the more likely.

In short, with this interpretation, I do not believe he is possessed. I don't think he has a second personality, either. Both the demon/ability and Fyodor himself are parts of Fyodor, with this scene giving insight into what he truly thinks of himself—a feeble being who was easily overcome by his weakness, and the temptation of his ability and viewing himself as a servant of God.

And then there's the part with the Sword Kladenets (if we're to assume that he was telling the truth about their holiness and that the part about it being a simple guard's knife was a lie), where he asks Sigma to kill him, which is a whole other aspect to consider, if my interpretation is correct...

The one thing that throws me off is how quickly Fyodor came back from all of this, but I honestly wouldn't be surprised if he could easily overcome such vulnerable states and act as if it was nothing. We're talking about Fyodor, after all.

Now, I've held this interpretation for quite a few months now, yet I waited until now to bring it up. Why? Simply because my interpretation had no basis. There was, as far as I was aware, nothing to back my thoughts up, and I didn't want to talk about something I myself barely believed in. This interpretation was solely an idea, maybe a gut feeling, but it was never solid in any way.

Until very recently, when a friend of mine texted me to talk about a scene in The Brothers Karamazov... the scene where Ivan Karamazov speaks with the devil. And the scene which Asagiri himself has stated served as an inspiration for Fyodor's character.

Yet that scene is not Ivan's first encounter with the 'devil.' He strongly implies throughout the book that he has had multiple encounters with "him," yet it is not until that very scene—the scene Asagiri which was referring to—until we, as readers, are able to experience it ourselves, through his—Ivan's—lens.

In this scene, Ivan experiences a hallucination as a result of his illness (delirium tremens)... a hallucination where the devil is speaking with him.

The "devil"—whom Ivan acknowledges as an embodiment of his own "thoughts and emotions, though only those that are most loathsome and stupid."

Sound familiar?

Well, I could go on and on about the "Ivan speaks with the Devil" scene and how well it fits into my interpretation of Fyodor's breakdown scene, but this analysis is already quite long, so I may save that for another day...

But I believe I have reached my point—that my interpretation, which I developed solely through gut feeling and creativity, sounds eerily similar to what Ivan experiences, especially in the scene we are privy to... the scene which, once again, has been confirmed by Asagiri to have served as an inspiration for Fyodor's character.

Yet, despite this, I am not entirely convinced, though definitely more than I was before.

While my interpretation may be correct, it's also possible that Asagiri is pulling an UNO Reverse Card and that, while the BSD scene truly could be inspired by the TBK scene, Fyodor was only using the mention of a demon as a lie to throw Sigma off, while in Ivan's case, it was 'genuine.' It is also entirely possible that Fyodor did have a talk with the devil—a.k.a. the part of himself he loathes the most—at some point in the past, and used that experience to make his lie more convincing. Who knows, maybe I'm looking into this way too much and those two scenes have no relation to each other, whatsoever!

"People are quick to believe they are thinking of their own free will. [...] we trust that everything we discover is valuable. We're loath to believe that our thoughts are being controlled."

And thus, we start looking for meaning in panels and dialogue that are either red herrings or don't even have any meaning at all... I am wary of that. Which is why I have elected to stay open-minded, instead of believing in only "one true theory."

But I still want to have some faith in my interpretation and that is why I am sharing it with you. Even if I end up being wrong, I am happy to be able to share my thoughts!

(Forgive me, if I am not the first one to share this idea. Due to spoiler warnings, I have avoided any Fyodor analysis posts, that contain TBK in any way, therefore, I am unaware of the content of said posts.)

Thank you so much for reading this far! I appreciate it!

Shout-out to @/xKolyaMxxx (Twitter) for giving me the motivation to write this analysis by sharing and discussing a similar idea with me!

Huge thanks to @creantzy for making me aware of the content of the TBK scene, for sharing photos of the English translation of the book, and, most of all, for discussing this topic with me, and helping me out a lot!

#bungo stray dogs #bungou stray dogs #bsd fyodor #fyodor dostoevsky #fyodor dostoevsky bsd #fyodor dostoyevsky #fyodor dostoyevsky bsd #the brothers karamazov #ivan karamazov #long post

[ravinewreyn]

Little Spoon

Rating: T Pairing: Hans/Elsa

I suddenly had the urge to write these two again so @nap-hime​ provide me with a quick prompt and I whip this out

If this feel a little depressing then blame Youtube because “The Next Right Thing” played at the right time

It still haunted him.

He never truly talked about it, didn’t want to concern those around him over something so… trivial such as this. He knew that they were past it—it had happened yes, but then it didn’t, and it was what mattered, didn’t it?

Everyone else seemed to have taken it with a confident stride, had perhaps even moved on from it, and he was sure he had as well. But then, from time to time, although sparse and far in between to the point that he was sure he would not experience it again, it had come back to him.

This nightmare that came from the depth of his mind—his heart, that rendered him into feeling so useless—helpless, muscles tense and yet he was unable to move at all, frozen in place as he was forced to recall everything. The aching in his heart as if it had been squeezed and rip right out of his chest, he gravity that pulled him down until it felt like he was drowning, how his throat had felt like closing up and choking him from inside out. He would wake up then, panting and drenched in sweat, as he reminded himself that it was all just a dream.

Tonight, though, it was worse.

He watched—because that was all he could do, as her body had slowly turned into ice, how her blue eyes were blown wide with fear as she looked at him, calling out to him, reaching out as she cried out for him to help her, as she sobbed and panic as she repeated the same words over and over again.

“Hans, I don’t want to die! Please, Hans, help me! I don’t want to die!”

But he couldn’t move, he couldn’t reach her, his body was not cold and it was not turning into ice the way hers was, but he was frozen in place. He couldn’t even mutter a word back at her no matter how hard he tried.

This was usually where he would have woken up, this was supposedly when he would open his eyes to find himself in the darkened bedroom, lying down and facing the ceiling as he calmed his breathing down.

He was not waking up though.

He kept staring at her, he kept his eyes glued to the frozen solid statue of her—face contorted forever in fear, a hand reached out toward him as the other curled against her chest.

And suddenly he could move.

Because he was approaching her statue now, the closer he was the more details caught his attention. Even as an ice statue he could see the dusting freckles across her face, could see the individual lashes of her eyes, the plumpness of her lips now blue and stiff.

His hands reached out to cup her face, the coldness that seep through his gloves, staring into the lifeless eyes of hers.

Yet he had no chance to grief, to cry and to beg her to wake up and come back to him, because her frozen solid hands had suddenly grabbed hold onto his wrists, holding him in place with vice-like grip that stung his skin, and her face had now contorted into one of anger—of fury that he had never witnessed before.

“Why did you let me die?!”

His eyes shot open then, gasping for air as if his chest had been deprived of it, yet he had not seen the ceiling he was expecting.

No, it was her face that filled his vision, hovering over him, concern knitted deeply into her brows and overall expression, and only now had he realized that she was grabbing him by the shoulders.

“Hans!” her voice was laced with both relief and question as she stared down at him. “What’s wrong? You were trashing in your sleep and I couldn’t wake you up.”

He realized his eyes stung, blurry, before her thumb came to swipe the running tears away from his face before her hand rested gently against his jaw. His arms came reaching up until he could wrap her in his embrace, pulling down and flush against his own body. Her skin was cold, but this was the coldness that he was familiar with, this coldness was not biting nor that it stung, this one was comforting, this coldness was his Elsa. Alive and well.

Her breath brushed against his neck as she softly sigh, lashes tickling his skin as she blinked and closed her eyes.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

Usually, he didn’t. But this dream, this particular one that was different than the others, pushed him to open his mouth, to pour out everything that had been plaguing his mind restlessly. How she had died and then didn’t, and how the grief had consumed him despite its brief existence.

Because he was afraid. He didn’t know what he would do without her, didn’t know how he could live should he lose her, didn’t know how he could keep on standing when the thought of her dying somewhere that not one of them could reach gnawed on him from the inside out.

And she had listened to every word, had assured him that she was there and she was not leaving, had sat with him in their bed as they talked, had took his hand and place it against her chest where he could feel her heart beating and assured him that it was just a dream.

“Hold me.”

It had been his request and she had nodded without question as both assumed their place under the covers once more. Like this, he couldn’t really smell the scent that came from her loose platinum blonde hair, but he felt secured with her arm over his body, he felt safe by clutching her hand against his chest as she pressed her body against his back.

He felt her lips—plump and soft and warm, against the nape of his neck as she kissed him there.

“Don’t worry, I’m here.”

#helsa #hansla #iceburns #queen elsa #elsa #prince hans #hans #frozen #hans x elsa #elsa x hans #post frozen 2 #but elsa is still queen cuz I said so #drabble #it actually exceed the limit by like 8 words but who's counting #am I still considered alive in this fandom #ravine's fic

[theweepingmortician]

every so often i remember tumblr exists and i browse the site for a bit. eventually i realize i don't really have anything to say so i log off, forget about the site. and then the cycle repeats

#this is a nothing post just thought i'd share in case any of the two people that followed me wanted to know if i was alive #sadly i am very much still in the fandom. i can't leave #speaking of #being in this fandom is funny because every year i get to watch the fandoms slow descent into madness #i'm interested to know how insane everyone's gonna get this time around. especially considering how long we're waiting for season 5 #surprised it hasn't started already tbh #or maybe i just haven't been looking hard enough #talking tag

[olympiansally]

Me craving human connection and ppl who actually engage with fan works: hmmmm I wonder if there’s anyone still alive and around the death note fandom

#death note fandom my beloved my absolute favorite #like I get other hyperfixations and rn I am deep in the bsd trenches but by god no one does fandom engagement like the death note fandom #I miss it badly #viscerally even #just <3 #anyway considering posting the leftover crumbs of my dn fics possibly because again I miss this fandom so much #but idk if there’s anyone still out there so uhhh idk #hey dn fandom if you’re still alive give me a sign lmao #I have some stuff in my draft that I didn’t end up finishing before but I might be up to wrapping up now #with like less of a perfectionist mindset or whatever lmao #but yeah anyway screaming into the void is there anyone there?!?!? #talk back death note fandom void you are so dearly missed #if this mood persists I might talk about it further and like which crumbs I’d have to post and which fics I had cooking in my drafts #that like could be finished and posted and such #but yk #as long as there’s someone still around who would want to see them lmao #in short this is me going #death note fandom my beloved I can still hear your voice sometimes <3

[leatherbookmark]

“since it’s been stolen, it’s likely we’ll never find it. we shouldn’t stay here for too long”

actually jgy is the most morally pure and holy character in mdzs, simply because This happened to him and he didn’t slaughter all these fucking people on the spot

#for a character that the fandom considers murder-happy for the smallest slight he sure does Not Do That! #wwx is still alive even though he's clearly having fun suggesting that oooh someone's after jgy! MAYHAPS IT'S NMJ #god is that why jgy looks so scared for a second. because wwx's spooky scary What If showed him a vision of nmj tearing his mother's body #to pieces. like is that what happened or am i reaching a bit too far. i admit i am Not calm n collected at the moment #ALL HE DOES. ALL HE DOES upon discovering that the body of his mother has been stolen from the coffin #is 1. go pale and tremble 2. punch the coffin once; shoulders shaking #THAT'S IT. #on an unrelated note: why were you looking at sms undressing hanguang-jun #liveshrimping

[sudden-memory-loss]

lksdalkdja someone reblogged earlier the first ask you sent me explaining what hermitcraft was and it reminded me that you only sent that in april! the difference in your blog from then to now is so funny lol

anyway glad you're still having fun with hermitcraft! <3

ksgdhk when I find a good hyperfixation I go all out!!!!!! honestly bless you for that intro post though. it made hermitcraft seem so approachable and like, it is!!! it's so easy to fall in love with!!!!! easiest minecraft smp to watch, I think. tempts you in with good friendships and goofs and fun server wide events and then suddenly you start caring.

I actually went back the other day and rewatched beef's first ep of s9 bc it was the first ep I watched, and like. I remember watching it and being so aware of how many people there were at spawn and they were all sort of background noise, like, I didn't know any of them. couldn't identify them at all. and now I'm like. those are my hermits! I know them! they're so wonderful! which is fun

anyway tysm once again for the beef propaganda that led me here <3 I'm hoping this hyperfixation is gonna last me a while

#mcyt #hermitcraft #rhys' shit #who among us could have predicted how hard I'd fall in love with team zit though truly #but yeah there's so many different hermits to hyperfixate on that I feel like I should be able to just swap between to keep the joy alive #already doing that a bit actually #e.g. started watching bdubs but I'm not caught up on gem. still not up to date on grian #actually the only hermits I *am* up to date on is impulse‚ zedaph and beef. which isn't terribly surprising #zed and beef are both really low stakes‚ if that makes sense #and impulse I just love him djgdk #this is the first fandom in a *long* time that I've genuinely considered making a sideblog for #but I feel like I've reblogged so much shit here I should just commit

[security-unit]

I'm a sucker for in-universe fandoms and I can't stop thinking about the idea that murderbot writes sanctuary moon fanfics when it's bored and it becomes in-universe fandom famous not only for good fic writing but also for the batshit insane chapter notes such as "sorry for the late chapter, I got shot again" and "if I told you why this chapter is late you'd be able to find out who I am through the newsfeed, so you shall continue wondering. enjoy"

the readers are going insane questioning how it's still alive. also none of them know who it is. it doesn't have any other online fandom presence linked to its fic account. it never reveals any information that can be used to figure out who it is other than it has a very dangerous job and is augmented in some way.

the name I've been going with as a placeholder is "SecRin" but I am open to username suggestions (considering something related to Eden so one of Tapan & Co can be like "I met someone named Eden once, they were very sad and very competent at security" in the big fandom discussion about who the fuck is this fic writer)

anyways Ratthi likes sanctuary moon. Ratthi reads the fics (before going on The Survey) and gets invested. he only finds out MB is SecRin when MB leaves the note and Ratthi reads it and goes "wait a second" because he recognized the writing style

also like. we can't forget the ART and MB interview.

like come on.

#murderbot #the murderbot diaries #tmbd #mb writes fanfic

[euphorickaeya]

THE ALMIGHTY.

buwan’s notes : I’m alive but I’m dead LOL, i don’t think I’ll be posting much on this account, maybe some for a few months here and there but other than that, I’m barely active. I apologize to those who keep asking for updates but I no longer consider myself in the genshin fandom.

I would also want to apologize for this fic, this fic is somewhat cruel, and I don’t want to offend anyone, please do speak to me if it seems I’ve gone too far, but this is merely a more story-based fic than being a fic about the characters being shipped with the god!reader. I wanted to explore the idea of being denied your saving grace when your god is right there, and they know it. It sort of a revenge fic?? Errr idk how to explain HAHA ok enjoy 😭

summary : you refuse to be treated the way you were, when you descended on your lands.

CW : obsession, sagau in general, borderline abuse as a creator, revenge and angst (?).

[no ships, more reader-centric.]

[gender-neutral!creator!reader.]

song recommendation: babooshka - Kate Bush.

part 2

EDIT: I COMPLETELY FORGOT THE TAGLIST..

EDIT #2: SIKE I WROTE IT DOWN LOLS @emperatris-rinaka | @iyhmibyo | @nicebonescomrades

A cold wind blew over the lands of Liyue, the creator has blessed the ancient lands with their presence, being bombarded with the lavish gifts of forgiveness of the people of Liyue by your feet, as you sat at a public throne.

Your eyes held nothing but resentment and no remorse for those who ask for your blessings, even if they bring a sickly child by your feet, begging and crying for a single blessing for you to heal this sickly child placed on your feet.

You merely spare the family a glance, before staring at your acolyte, Zhongli stared at you with concern, unsure of the thoughts racing through your head.

You made your decision when you had shooed the family, a shocked look on their faces as the hold on their poor kid faltered, almost dropping the frail boy. You could merely scoff as the mother handed the kid to her husband as she ran to your feet, wailing.

“Your grace, please punish me for any wrong-doing my family has done, but please! Heal my boy! He’s done nothing wrong, he’s nothing but a boy!” The mother wailed into your robes.

You felt your face morph into disgust, your eyes swelling in anger, tears starting to form from annoyance and anger. “Don’t pity yourself under my feet, lady.” You spat, pushing the mother with your feet.

The crowds that came to revel in their creator’s stared in disbelief and silent horror as the lady sobbed loudly on your podium, and their god, you, doing nothing to comfort or even give a slice of remorse to the pitiful lady by your feet.

After a few minutes of your unrelenting emotionless gaze on her and her unstopping sobs as her husband held their boy from afar helplessly, the lady raised her head to look at you.

An anger in her eyes, betrayal, anguish met your cold, frozen eyes.

“You’re no god, you’re not our creator, you’re just a mere copy..” the lady whispered spitefully, looking at you with nothing but hatred for your embodiment.

For once, in a long time, you laughed, a smile on your face, not of happiness, but of mockery, a scoffing, bashful smile.

“I’m no god? I’m a mere, copy?” You scoffed at the lady, your eyebrows raised in a mocking way, you stood from your throne, even after being able to sit on the golden seat, it still felt like it stung you, like silver does to a vampire.

It burned and stung, but it did nothing but fuel you even more. “Is this what has come of my empire? Of my beloved world?” You asked, walking slowly up to the lady who gravelled and clutched the hot concrete under her palms.

“If I had known my own children would dictate who I am, I would’ve destroyed this world to bits.” You threw that sentence out recklessly, seeing your acolytes stiffen quickly from your peripheral vision. You couldn’t help but grin at their uncomfortable faces.

“You, a mere lady, who lives on nothing but scraps, gets to tell me, a creator, a celestial being, who I am?” You snarled, your spear appearing to intimidate those who dare to anger you so.

“You’ve got some nerve, you all do!” You pointed to the crowds, who flinched and screamed in fear as you pointed with your spear, the metal shining against the sun.

Your acolytes could only wish that the sun could’ve given you it’s golden rays in a better situation, seeing as you flowed with unrelenting bravery and anger.

“I had to harm myself, to cut my flesh and show my blood, so that I wouldn’t die in this mortal form!” You screamed into the crowd, no longer holding the annoyance and disgust you held for this world.

“If I were a mere mortal with my face, you would’ve called them an imposter, burn them at the stake, like you’ve done with me!” Zhongli could only watch helplessly as your struck fear into his people, unable to stop you, for his loyalty refuses to let him move.

“You’re no people of mine, this world is obsessed with the idea of me, not my being as your creator!” The lady no longer glared at your with angry, but with disdain and anxiousness.

“I refuse to be dictated and be a holy grail for this shitty fucking world. Your people don’t deserve to be blessed with my presence nor my help.” Zhongli’s eyes could only widen, glancing at Ningguang, who was hyperventilating, watching you as you threw your spear away, it dissipating into particles.

“so suffer, suffer as I have, hope that there’s another god who’ll give you the forgiveness I will never give you.” You scoffed, you looked at the father who held his son with a life-threading grip.

Looking at you, his eyes holding a flickering flame of hope, that under all your anger, you would find the kindness to give them the mercy they’re desperately grasping at.

But you merely turned away from him, watching from your peripheral vision as the flame in his eyes extinguished, before his eyes filled, refusing to look away from your retreating figure.

“Zhongli, I want to end my appearance here and now.” You refused to look at the archon that stood by your throne as you walked past. Soon after a while, you had walked into the Liyue palace doors, finally out of public eye.

That is when Zhongli finally moves. Although being the most powerful archon, his knees buckled like that of a weak mortal, the pain and fear of his people weighing down his back.

But how can he save them? not when he knows he’s one of the many people who’s fueled this despicable behaviour in their god.

Their god who was so reverent and kind, only corrupted by it’s own creation.

#genshin impact sagau #genshin sagau #sagau #genshin self aware au #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #yandere genshin #euphoric~works #yandere genshin impact #yandere genshin impact self-aware #genshin cult au #genshin x gender neutral reader #yandere genshin x reader

[creepy-friday]

Fem. proxy NSFW headcanons with the three proxies? (separately) I love the way you write them, and you really don't find people who write them accurately anymore. Thank you!

Hi! Thank you so much,I am glad the fandom is still alive! :D

Creepypasta Proxies x fem!Reader

|NSFW headcanons|

Warnings: implied nsfw,suggestive language,mental illness mentions,dub-con/non-con mentions,misogyny, various kinks mentions including dacryphilia,knife play and somnophilia

Side note: Sex is meant to be a pleasure experience for both partners (or more,whatever y'all are into) and it isn't limited to a particular "style", it is okay to explore and feel good and confident about it.Stay safe everyone!

Toby would be the one who would think about engaging in sexual activities the most

I ain't gonna sugarcoat it,he's still very mentally ill so he would only assume you don't necessarily find him attractive enough if you seem to reject all of his affection that would lead to something more

That's why during some of his breakdowns he might push you and get pretty violent,forcing himself onto you while kissing roughly,altough he wouldn't continue to a very end if you're extremely uncomfortable about it

Considering the amount of trauma he has,the few moments he can feel at his best are during the highs of an orgasm tbh

Did I ever mention he has a mommy kink? I definitely fucking did he will let you use him as you please,dirty talking also gets him last a few more rounds.He just wants to know he is the one who can please you the most,that he's doing a good job,that he's your pretty good boy~

Degrade him a little,he also doesn't mind if you want to crave a little something into his skin.Even tough he cannot feel pain he definitely likes it,it's something that makes him feel like he belongs to you

Toby would do the same if you let him.He has his moments where he wants to feel in total control,but at the same time he's all sloppy and needs to touch and lick every part of your body

Holding you into a tight grasp while you bounce on him makes him all vocal,he doesn't hold back on moans either, looking up to you like you're all that matters to him in this world

He loves to hold you as close as possible during intercourse,as close as he can get to hear your fast heartbeat or to lick the tears that escape from your pretty eyes

Masky is rough and would often not let you cum until you beg and further humiliate yourself to get it from him

He would fuck you in front of a mirror as exposed as possible while praising and shaming you at the same time

Holding your hair into a fist while pressing your head into a pillow and holding both of your hands between your back as he doesn't stop thrusting into you until you're left breathless is what he loves the most

He can still act arrogant and bossy, blowing the smoke on your face while forcing you to take all of his length in your throat,maybe even putting his hands under his head while acting like you blowing him off it's such a chore fucking douchebag

Tim can be a sweet and loving partner,making sure you are okay while leaving soft kisses on the spots Masky left on you

The white masked man still loves to be in power and would talk disgusting things to you because of it

"You were made for this,weren't you?" ; "Finally learning where your place is,am I right?" ; "I bet your cunt deserves more atttention,after all you've been a good slut lately" and so on and so forth,would make you agree and be vocal while saying the exact words he wants you to say

Would engage in fear play and grind onto you while you sleep,staring at you while he strokes himself off and finally covering your mouth and thrusting all of his length into you while letting out grunts and low moans

Hate fucking is nothing that he isn't familiar with,he secretly adores when you put him in his place and fuck his brains out,if you're not easily intimidated and take the lead you can make him roll his eyes into his skull and use this to shame him later he deserves it

Hoodie adores when you start crying while desperately holding onto him if you're not tied up,of course while you're overstimulated and shaking from the last few orgasms.

"C'mon,I know you can continue,one more time for me,hm?"

He's isn't as much of a jerk like his friend,but I totally can see him taking his sweet time to ravish you just for his fucked up pleasure

He would often tease you in semi public spaces or legit under the table while other residents are talking to you,he has no shame about it either

Cannot keep his mouth shut for anything,he will whisper the dirtiest filth to your ears while soft grunts escape his mouth

Except to be touched while sleeping next to him.He would gently pet your hair while you sleep on his chest,then his hand would move across your body.He cannot help it,you look way too peaceful while you're dozed off,so defenless and utterly at his mercy

If you insist to use a safe word with him he would respect it while smirking,his ego would be over the roof,especially knowing on how good he makes you feel

"You feelin' good?" he asks as he takes his sweet time to make you beg for him to go faster,he's okay to take orders and doesn't mind instructions on how to make you feel even better than before

As long as you allow him in and ask nicely he's all yours to break or to use to break yourself into~

#creepypasta x reader #creepypasta headcanons #creepypasta #headcanons #y/n #tim wright #tim wright x reader #brian thomas #brian thomas x reader #brian x reader #marble hornets x reader #marble hornets #marble hornets headcanons #ticci toby x reader #ticci toby headcanons #creepypasta toby headcanons #creepypasta masky headcanons #creepypasta hoodie headcanons

[gabbasposts]

]Messy[

Lies of P: P x Gender Neutral Reader

Warnings: Smut, vaginal fingering, hand-jobs, Oral (both f and M receiving), slight masochis kink? Bodily fluids, language, 18+ Minors and ageless blogs will be blocked immediately after interacting with this post

(Gif not mine)

A/n: bruh I am down astronomically for this damn puppet. I’ve been scouring online for some pure filth with him and Giangio and while I’ve found some gems, I need that itch of mine to be scratched so judge me if you want, I needed this 🤡 the fellow desperate, nasty folks that get it, will get it 😈

-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-

I think it’s safe to say as a whole, the fandom knows P is a messy man.

Like, this boy is fast and agile enough to avoid oil and blood splatters, as well as puddles and generally all together, any liquid messes. (rain, WINE apparently too based of a post I saw on here 👀)

But in a weird way, he feels coming back to the hotel covered in any of it shows both just how hard he generally works, as well as what he accomplished on the mission he’s sent on.

(Cue Geppetto, Antonia and Sofia or even you, lecturing him that coming back to the hotel in one piece is enough to show he both kept himself alive and did a well enough job getting rid of the rabid puppets and people who’d wanted to kill him. 💀)

(Annnd of course it goes in one ear and out of the other because again, he feels a weird sense of accomplishment covered in a mess) 🤡)

Because of this, I feel after the first time you and him have sex he immediately wants to go again not only because he’s aroused by sensations he had just felt, but seeing you covered in a thin sheen of sweat, as well as the mess in between your legs that he caused is an undeniable turn on for him…

Like your lying on your back, and pieces of your hair are clinging to your forehead as well as your chest is heaving as you try to catch your breath.

And he’s still sitting on his knees in between your legs that are still spread far apart as he’s starring down at his cum leaking from your pussy/hole, along with the fluids from it around his dick and general pelvis area.

You’ve said his name about three times by now, your voice tired yet worried, and your expression growing concerned as he’s not responding… did he not like it? Was he realizing the act of sex can be a bit gross, and maybe not as appealing for him considering he is a puppet after all?

The answer is no, no, and finally no again ;)

just as you were readying yourself to sit up to cover yourself and break into a ramble of apologies, he moves so fast it honestly startles you… until you feel him again.

He moves so that he’s standing at the foot of the bed now, fully nude and other than the mess on his dick, and his now ruffled hair, he looks far from exhausted or as though he hadn’t even had sex at all.

You don’t even have time to say anything by the time he wraps his hands around your ankles and drags you toward the edge of the bed, so that your ass is almost hanging off.

“P-P, what are you” you don’t have time to finish your sentence as he crouches down and immediately goes to town on your pussy/cock.

Unlike the calmness he initially had the first round with you, (the kitten like kicks, gentle sucks, lack of vocal noise) he’s literally more desperate than he was when he first got in bed with you.

He’s groaning against your core, sending vibrations down your shaft or to your clit, not even bothering to pull away to wipe around his mouth.

He wants to feel your release dripping down your chin or better yet, his face entirely.

The only thing he naturally smells like is oil, and the soap from his clothing that gets cleaned, but suddenly the idea of wearing you release like a cologne has him hard.

He wants you to cum hard at that too, and once he’s done he plans to bring you on your knees so he can paint your face.

Needless to say, sex from that point on is messy.

It gets to the point you might have to start checking the times everyone goes to the lobby so you can sneak past with the cum stained bed spread and sheets to switch them out for more.

Even outside of the room, if your doing something like eating maybe a cake, and a bit of icing falls on your chest or down your cheek, you have to rush to turn around before he notices (he does notice 🫢) because despite his usual stone face resolve, his eyes darken and his tongue might dart out of his mouth and run along his lips quickly and quite suggestively to anyone if they witnessed the entirety of it.

Needless to say, showers are a twenty four seven ordeal with him and you, and even then he might try to refuse if you don’t shower with him.

He’s a messy puppet, what can he say?

#lies of p smut #lies of p x reader #gabbasdumbthoughts #messy sex #smut headcanons #im going to wish I kept this in the drafts later but right now im going feral #I also don’t remember who posted the pics of him in wine I gotta scroll through my likes but whoever you are thank you 🙏

[peachymilkandcream]

My Husband, My Monster|Part 1|William Afton x Wife!Reader

(A/N: So this is the fandom that won the poll! I'll try and keep these and Break Me Slowly regular, but still feel free to give me requests for both in my inbox, I do oneshots and headcanons as well as I'll answer your questions and comments! (Please just read the rules first) I think I have a general timeline and idea of the lore [It's FNAF lore it's complicated as fuck] so I'm going with my best guess on things. Hope you guys enjoy!)

WARNINGS: noncon, dubcon, power imbalance, age difference, manipulation, mind breaking, yandere themes, yandere behaviours, domestic violence, misogyny, violence, William's a warning himself, etc.

=============================================

Who knew that a bit of twisted words and cash made all of your problems go away? William had struggled to stay open with Henry Emily's company showing such strides in mechanical technology. He was still wearing homemade cloth suits while his rival had dancing puppets that children adored. His dreams and ideas were being stolen right out from under him in his eyes, rolling in mountains of debt and the threat of closing down looming over his head. They were his characters, his dream, his business idea, and the bastard had to steal it and make it better. Even though he had bought William out of debt all those years back, it didn't change the sting of defeat when the two businesses merged.

Now he didn't regret it, Fredbear's Family Diner was just starting out but it was already projected to be a success. His characters took centre stage and had never been more alive, delighting young and old alike, his legacy started now.

Which is when he noticed the girl sitting at a table with her friend, they were giggling and laughing together over some inside joke. William had always had a soft spot for pretty girls, his more reckless years spent taking what women offered him freely, now he didn't have the time.

However for this girl he might just be able to make the time.

Casually he walks over, pretending to just be passing by, when he spies the job application she's filling out on the table and catching snippets of their conversation.

"I'm just saying, you're not going to have time for school while getting even a part time job." The friend was saying this, a slightly concerned expression on her face. "And now offence, you're not the brightest bulb, you need all the time to study that you can get."

"Well thanks." She mutters, giggling slightly. "But I can't afford college with my situation now. Mom and Dad agreed to pay for most of it, but-" She hesitates with a blush. "I want the full college experience."

"Ooh~" Her friend seems intrigued. "My best friend finally loosing her innocence? Scandalous."

She scoffs. "Look I just haven't found the right guy yet, it'll happen when it happens."

At this William can't help but interject. "Excuse me, I couldn't help but glance over your shoulder and see you're applying for a job here."

She meets his eyes, and man was he a sucker for a pretty face. "Yeah I am, are you a manager here?"

He chuckles a little. "No actually, I'm the owner." While co-owner was technically true he liked to tell people he owned it solely to give himself an ego boost. "If you wanted, I could do the interview right here."

"Wait really?"

"Actually, she's fine, thanks, she's going to get a job with my mom or something. Come on let's go-" Her friend slides out of the booth, trying to drag the woman with her.

"Well I'm going to be brutally honest with you here ma'am, for a girl your age your options are going to be extremely limited. And even though the pay isn't great it's a great experience."

She stops, considering his words before waving off her friend. "Go ahead, I think I'll still fill it out, never hurts."

"If you'd like I can interview you right now, save some time."

"Oh wow that would be awesome-"

"Seriously? Listen, this guy gives me a weird feeling, let's just go okay? And I'll find you something better." The friend again reaches for her to come along, but the girl refuses.

"I'm serious, go on and I'll tell you how it went later."

With a huff her friend leaves, a clearly annoyed expression evident on her face.

William regains his composure before sitting across from her. "So, a job. Tell me what you can do." He crosses his hands on the table in front of her, a smile easily coming to his face.

"Well, I was thinking I would be a good server, I'm good with people, especially kids, and I love to clean. I can cook pretty well too but I think something at this scale would be too much for me." She laughs a little, clearly trying to ease a little nervousness.

He joins in on her laughter, hoping to make her comfortable around him, since that's what he wanted. "I suppose that's fair. Out of curiosity, why is it you want this job?" She was hired already, that he knew, a pretty face with a nice ass? What more could you want from an employee?

"Well I'm in college, and I want to be able to afford just some extras to really experience that life before it's too late."

"College?" He feigns interest, in his opinion all she was doing was wasting her most fertile years and her money. If she's halfway decent at any of her qualifications then she'd easily find a rich enough man like him, pop out a few kids and have a truly fulfilling life. "Can I ask what for?"

"Psychology, the human mind has always fascinated me."

"Oh yes definitely." He suppresses an eye roll, even more of a useless degree, maybe he could help this girl from throwing her life away because she thinks deep thoughts will make her money. "Then I should ask for your class schedule for hours."

"Right, I always keep it with me because I'm always forgetting." She giggles again, pulling it out of her purse and handing it to him. "I cannot work these times but anything else I'm there."

Wanting these hours to know when not to schedule this girl was the last thing on William's mind. "Well I'll do what I can, but it's not that easy, you have to be flexible in the real world."

"Of course, I understand that sir."

"William, call me William. My grandfather was sir and my father was Mr. Afton, so I'm just William." He flashes another smile, coaxing one from her lips as well.

"Alright, William." She tests his name out on her tongue with a soft smile and a subtle blush, the poor girl clearly hasn't been within five feet of a man before.

"Now Miss, have you had any work experience prior to this?"

"No, I haven't, this sounds entitled but I've never really had the need to up until now?"

"There's nothing wrong with that, although I'll need to teach you the proper dynamic between employee and employer. But I trust that won't be a problem, right?"

"Not at all sir-er-William. I'm more than happy to learn."

"Good, all you need to know is that I'm your friend, but I have authority over you so you need to follow what I say without question."

"Why without question?"

Oh she was so naive. "Insubordination, it's grounds with which you can be fired. So best not to stray too far towards that right?" He winks.

"Absolutely-" She shivers slightly.

"Then if that's it..." He draws the moment out for it to seem authentic. "Welcome to Fredbear's Family Diner and we're happy to have you on the team." He extends a hand to shake, which she grasps eagerly, her rows of white teeth on full display.

"Oh thank you so much! When do I start?"

"We'll have you start next week, let's say, Monday."

"That's perfect, that's so perfect-" She glances at the door. "I really should go, I think I've pissed her off enough as it is, thank you for your time." She shakes his hand and hurries out the door.

"Oh trust me, don't worry about it." He watches her go, a small smile coming to his face.

This was just the beginning.

#william afton #william afton x oc #william afton x reader #my husband my monster #steve raglan #steve raglan x oc #steve raglan x reader #fnaf #five nights at freddys #purple guy #five nights at freddys movie

[jewishvitya]

I just wanted to thank you so much for all of your insight and generosity with your perspective as an anti-zionist israeli, something you absolutely don't owe us but I feel immense amounts of respect and admiration for. from an American jew, it's been so valuable to know there are people like you out there, it's made everything feel much less hopeless despite all the hopelessness. I've felt very alone recently, surrounded by all the Jewish people in my life who are pro-israel and don't seem to grasp the gravity of the situation and my pro-palestine gentile friends, and I've felt very alone in my grief as I've only really started to unpack and dismantle my own biases very recently. reading your posts and your perspective on everything has just made me feel very seen as a jew in this situation, especially as I try to reconcile my feelings about everything going on with my own feelings about my faith and my identity.

you've probably seen that I've gone through a lot of your posts and that I've followed you. i just want you to know that I'm not necessarily following you just for that, I know you're just a fandom blog, it's just that after looking through your posts I feel like you're just a really nice person and seeing yoi on my dash from you would be endearing coming from you even though im not into it myself.

just. thank you again for sharing your story and continuing to share. you have no idea how much it's helped me.

I'm in tears. I've been crying way more than usual over the past couple of months, but it's nice for a change to have those tears to come from being touched instead of grief. I apologize if I'm going to ramble.

You say I didn't owe you all this, but I do feel responsible. I'm watching so much destruction and seeing how comfortable people around me are with the loss of life. This is why I've been talking about what we do and not as much about the impact of October 7 on me or people I know. I did a bit of that in the beginning, but pretending it was the start of everything to keep going back to that one day, after two months of horror, as if I can't count past 7... I didn't choose to be born where I am, I didn't choose to grow up in the most extremist community this place has to offer. But since I'm here, since I'm comfortable at the expense of Palestinians and violence is being done in my name and I have the tools to highlight issues within my society, I think it's a moral obligation.

I know how I talk about things here, and that's genuinely because I don't want to minimize the severity of the racism and the nationalism in Israel. And someone perceived my words as showing hatred for Israelis. But... I love my people. I don't expect those who see or experience our violence to feel the same or even understand me, but I do. It's my neighbors and my childhood friends and my family. It's children I see playing outside and getting excited when they see I have a cat, and the random people who stop me in the street and give me directions if they think I look lost.

Even growing up in the West Bank settlements, the people were very good to me. I needed years to internalize the fact that this kindness doesn't get extended to you if you're not part of the in-group. It broke my heart. It still does. Seeing people who I know are capable of kindness and compassion, hardening themselves against the pain of other human beings. Closing their eyes and telling themselves it isn't real. It's all an act.

I told a friend I feel like I'm betraying my mom, who was deeply bigoted, but also a wonderful mother. She taught me a lot of the principles that are guiding me now - I just took down the walls she put around who deserves to be considered. She'd be horrified with seeing the things I'm saying if she was still alive. But she taught me to care about people, I just decided it means all people.

Everyone should be prioritizing Palestinian liberation, and at the same time, I care about this too. I care about the morality of my people. I need us to be better than this. I want to dismantle the nationalism that teaches us hate and violence so we can start to heal and come to terms with what we did (and still do) here. I want us to fix what we can and hold ourselves accountable. I want us to reimagine safety in a way that doesn't cause harm, and build good relationships with the rest of humanity. Every marginalized community is experiencing bigotry in interactions with every other community, that's just how these things work. But I believe healing the world, and healing my society, is possible.

And it's hard, because so much of what we learn is rooted in truth. Antisemitism is real. Millennia of persecution are real. The trauma we carry is real. If the idea of an ethnostate makes us feel safe, and the idea of losing it makes us scared, how do we differentiate between fear as a natural reaction to antisemitic violence and fear that was taught to us for the sake of nationalism? Especially those of us living in Israel, immersed in the propaganda. It doesn't matter in practice, our feelings of safety or fear don't justify an ethnostate, especially not one built on top of another nation, but it matters for the conversations I have with people.

And I said that the violence I'm seeing feels like an attack on my identity. Seeing a giant hannukiyah in Gaza, when Hannukah tells the story of occupied people fighting off their oppressors. Seeing images that echo so much of the horrors that were done to us. The Magen David being used with hate and spite. It's all so painful. And I love this land, it's the only home I've known, so seeing us destroying nature and soaking it with blood and calling that connection?

Judaism does guide me here. The concept of tikkun olam. The idea of לא עליך המלאכה לגמור ולא אתה בין חורין לבטל ממנה - doing what I can, even if what I'm able to do isn't some decisive blow that entirely turns the tide. The idea that every human being is a whole entire world, to me it means that every single person alive is worth fighting for. So no matter how much death I see, there's still worlds more to save.

And Jewitches had this post that felt just healing to read. Nationalism hijacked our culture, and it will always leave a mark for centuries into the future. But I'm not letting go, and I'm not letting that create a rift between me and thousands of years full of history I can be proud of.

I feel your grief. And I'm grateful for the anti-zionist Jews I met by talking about this, because honestly, I need you people in my life. The pain and the anger are both easier to hold together.

So, thank you for following. I might follow back, just to see you around on my feed. And thank you for sending this. Feel free to message me anytime for any reason (I promise it won't result in a lecture every time).

Also, your url gave me pjo nostalgia

#riki babbles

[expectopatronum81]

Unpopular opinion but......

Am I the only one who misses the og marauders? The marauders fandom isn't even about the marauders now, 99% of their canon personality traits hv been replaced with cliqued behaviour. For some reason there's a massive obsession with their sexuality and I just don't get it? Lyk can't u have a character with any sexual orientation with personality traits outside it anymore? Does there really need to be a complete erasure of their most defining traits? I just wish we could get the actual marauders era characters back

James Potter: Pureblood, rich, intelligent, arrogant, a bully, but extremely loyal; took Sirius in and turned into an animagus for his werewolf bestie when the whole world would have shunned him; he could have led a life of utmost comfort but chose to risk his life and fight for those he loved in a war that didn't even concern him personally. His last words were asking his wife and child to escape while he tried to hold voldy off without a wand

Sirius Black: Haughty, a bully, extremely good looking, cool, rich, blood traitor by 16, comes from a family of literal death eaters, very intelligent, loyal, will do anything for those he loves( especially james and later Harry), thick as hell (my boy really survived in a depression prison for 12yrs, tht too after all the horror he'd seen before that), dark, very traumatized and broken

Remus Lupin: Gentle (yup u read that right), kind, mischievous (ppl really overlook this), very insecure, let james and Sirius bully Snape coz he was too thankful for their acceptance and affection to tell them off, considered himself undeserving of love, his self loathing prevents him from being a responsible adult/ parent for Harry, lowkey manipulative. Very compassionate and empathetic even after everything he's been thru tho

Peter Pettigrew: Considered slow and stupid, insecure, tags along with the others for protection, but obviously cunning and manipulative, a disgusting rat tho

Regulus Black: Teenage Reggie worshipped death eaters, he had newspaper clippings of them on his wall, completely believed in those racist ideologies until he realised what the reality of being a death eater was. He tried to bring voldy down but there's no evidence of him completely changing his beliefs about everything else like muggle borns, muggles, werewolves etc. Very cunning and intelligent tho, he discovered voldemort's secret before Dumbledore did. Liked kreacher but kreacher was also brainwashed with pureblood ideology, so I ll only give him half the credit. Bravely sacrificed his life in the end, but he still chose to protect his racist family.

Lily Evans: muggleborn, good at portions, described as popular and vivacious, pretty, the favourite sibling, isn't afraid of standing up to ppl (tht smirk in swm tho?), very brave, and most importantly (ppl really choose to forget this nowadays) a mother who stood in front of her baby boy in hopes of saving him from the darkest wizard alive even tho she herself was only 21 at the time, tht too right after losing her husband. Tho I'd still say that lily is a badly written character

It's fun to explore characters but not one of these core characteristics r even present. They're turned into one dimensional social justice warriors who r always right in everything they do

Now I get it, ppl want them to fit with current day ideals, but y not just create different/new characters then? What's the point of holding on to that nostalgia if most of their character isn't even there anymore? Where's all the toxicity coming from? And anyone who doesn't agree is homophobic and whatever other -phobic u choose to employ in the most irrelevant context ever. It's all so stupid smh🙄

#harry potter #james potter #sirius black #remus lupin #peter pettigrew #regulus black #lily evens #marauders era #mauraders #anti fanon #anti marauders #pro james potter #pro sirius black #pro remus lupin #pro lily evans #pro regulus black #pro sirius

[prince-liest]

I know you’ve gotten asks already talking about how happy they are that you’re going more in depth on the subject of Vox being trans in your next installment, but I can’t help myself… I’m so excited that you’re writing about that. It can be difficult to find trans rep in fandom spaces sometimes and your stories are so well written that this is like a gift from god. SO ANYWAY I’m super happy and your works are amazing and I just hope you know how many people value your works for all that they give.

Secondly, I was wondering whether or not Vox would have been trans on earth or just in hell? I mean I’m sure it would be difficult considering the time period but I also couldn’t think of a reason why he would be cis on earth but trans in hell. UNLESS he realized he was trans in hell/was finally able to do something about it?? Anyway, all of this is just speculation, I am only curious!!

Regardless, great work. It genuinely means a lot to me, if no one else :)

Oh, man, I'm ngl, one of my little, "Wait! I can do anything I want!!!!" moments of going mad with power once I got more and more experience at writing was realizing that I could just trans anyone's gender at-will and I didn't need anyone's permission for that. I still remember the first time I quietly decided an OC of mine was trans (love you, Laledy, you obnoxious asshole). I'm always a little apprehensive to start writing trans characters in new fandoms, mostly because I've been in a number of fandoms that have corners that get very tetchy about their weird gender role stuff, but it's consistently been met with such a positive reaction that it really brings me joy. So thank you so very, very much!!

My personal take on Vox in 666 specifically (a lot of which isn't going to come up because he does not want to get into it) is that he wasn't personally really in a position or environment conducive to considering trans-ness as, like, a thing that happens when he was alive, and he put his all into putting on The Correct Gender Performance with the vim and aplomb that we see from him in canon, plus all the underlying bullshit that goes into maintaining that facade. So, y'know. The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel, minus the Jewish. Which did not do amazing things for his mental health, not that he let himself pay attention to that at the time!

And then he wakes up, in hell, with this weird-ass demon body with a television for a head, and - well, it just makes sense to present as a man at that point, doesn't it? Hell is dog-eat-dog, and he's not going to pick the submissive gender to put himself on the back foot from the start!

He figures out what the fuck being trans even is eventually, just. Not for a while, and not until after someone like Valentino, having known and assumed that Vox is trans as a given for fucking months, mentions it offhandedly to Vox, who had been mentally describing himself as "just lying about his sex like those girls in stories that get shit done by dressing up as men". Then he gets to have his own little spiral about it, and also why it's upsetting him, and why he felt so vulnerable about Valentino knowing, and why Valentino specifically, Mr. Fishnets, Heels, and Microminis, is the one that ended up in a position not only to know this about Vox but for Vox to feel comfortable having any kind of sex with. It wasn't something Vox had to analyze back when it was just "her" freaky boyfriend being into pegging!

Okay, fuck, I have even more feelings about trans Vox than I thought I did, hahahaha.

Might fuck around and write a staticmoth-centric prequel interlude at some point if I have the brain cells for it. Vox is a lot more confident and comfortable with his gender now, to the point where he can absolutely see fucking around in a dress for kinky reasons as crossdressing and not being forced back into a box that doesn't fit, but it'd be neat to explore the earlier days. Val isn't here for gender, he's here to be sexy, but Vox... this IS the origin of the daddy kink, just saying.

#ask #personal #Anonymous #666 live on air #hazbin hotel #vox #staticmoth #my writing #nsft #trans vox

[redwinterroses]

I keep seeing posts and comments about how "it's so hard to leave comments on a fic" because either readers don't know what to say, or it's just too much emotional/mental work to come up with something.

So! Here's a quick cheat sheet. Feel free to copy+paste these to make commenting and supporting/encouraging fic authors easy and painless! (also, consider: you can leave as a comment any of the keysmashing you'd do in tumblr tags. Go nuts.)

Most of these can also be used on videos, art, and anywhere else you might leave feedback on a creative project.

Tier 1: Easy

<3

Love it!

thanks for the chapter

!!!!!

great chapter!

OH MY GOSH

oooooooh...

O.O

:D

Tier 2: Simple

I loved this chapter! Thanks for the update

I am up past my bedtime reading this.

I'm reading this at work/on the train/in class/at a party and I'm loving it

So good! Can't wait for the next chapter!

Was so excited to get the notification for this!

I love your writing

I enjoy/enjoyed this fic so much.

I'm sending this to a friend!

Biting this. Eating it. Devouring, even.

Awwww! Them.

Tier 3: Requires Input

I loved when [character] [did thing]

I loved the part when [thing happened]

[literally just copy+pasting a line you like and adding !!!!!!!!! to it]

My favorite part was [the part with the thing]

I love how you write [descriptions/dialog/specific person/etc]

Oh no, [character name]!!

Tier 4: Prompts

Point out a line you liked and what it made you think/how it made you react

Ask a question like, "Is Hardened Detective Man's mother still alive in this AU?" or "Does Brave Space Princess know about the [macguffin mentioned in chapter 2]?" or "Who's your favorite character to write in this fic?"

ask a rhetorical question of the characters, like: "Lovable High School Character! Do you have any idea what you're doing???" or "Dinosaur Researcher, are you aware there's a whole series of movies about why this is a bad idea?" or "Dark Vigilante Father Figure, do you even see what your adoptive acrobat son is trying to tell you?"

Address a statement to the characters (similar to above)

Tell the author how you found their fic

Tell them you're subscribed and you get excited whenever they upload

Comment that you can't wait to see how [story element] works out.

Commenting is the best way you can encourage a fic writer and inspire new content. And comments aren't book reviews (or at least, they don't have to be. We do love those though lol) -- they don't have to be long and complex. Keysmashes and emojis and one-sentence reactions are MORE than awesome!

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[robin-the-enby]

Hi! Can I get an angst/comfort fic of Arthur with a female s/o who is depressed and suicidal? Like he walks in on his s/o c*tting while having a mental breakdown? Or he just notices the cuts/scars? Or he walks in on his s/o bl33ding out?? Idk you can get creative with it I’ve just been having an extremely rough couple months. If this makes you uncomfortable then you can just ignore this request, but thanks anyways! I hope you have a great day/night!! <3

It's my problem if I feel the need to hide

Pairing: Arthur x f!reader

Summary: You feel under the weather, but decide not to tell anyone. As your condition only worsens, your friends start to worry about you. It's when you decide to let everything go your knight with blue eyes and a cheeky smile comes to the rescue.

Warnings: depression, suicidal ideation, not being able to care for oneself (containing lack of hygiene and proper meals), mentions of vomit(ing) (3), negative self talk, dark thoughts

A/N: I am so sorry for the delay of this fic, I hope it will be of use to you still. I haven't written for this fandom in a long while, so getting back to it was a little hard, though I enjoyed it none the less. I tried not to use any (Y/N)s and make it as racially neutral as possible, as well as appearance-neutral (Arthur carries reader 1 time, but he's stronger than a regular human, and y'all deserve it ladies, no matter your size). If anyone wants to talk about anything at all, my dms are open, as well as my ask box. Take care of yourselves and stay safe!

The human mind is possibly nature's greatest invention. The complexity with which all its components interact to keep the body functioning is nothing short of phenomenal. And not only that, but it is aware of itself, encasing its own conscience inside a safe vessel, built and evolved specifically to protect it. And as time progressed, and all the basic needs of the body were cared for, there came a need to create. The body could easily be fed, but the conscience needed a different type of sustenance.

The human mind is capable of incredible things. It can set goals for itself as well as achieve them. It shaped the entire world to its liking, for better or for worse. The human mind is the reason why we live the lives we do today. It is the thing that keeps us alive and sane.

It's funny how drastically that can change.

If you'd ask any of the men residing in the mansion on who the worst enemy of humans is, you're sure all of them would at least mention the human conscience, if not directly choose it. After all, their lives have been woven through with the thread of sorrow, the perpetrator being none other than the human mind- theirs or someone else's.

At this point, you feel like you've at least got a peek at the complex inner worlds of history's greatest minds. Some you knew better than others, but you've been le Comte's servant for long enough to consider all the mansion's residents at least friends.

It was evident to anyone who has been in the mansion for at least a month that all of the people (and vampires) residing in it had some sort of baggage, wearing them down even in their second undead life. Some were better at hiding it than others, some just felt more comfortable keeping their troubles to themselves, while others' emotions and traumas were sometimes too great, too overwhelming to be kept locked inside their bodies.

You've tried your best to help those who needed it, both physically and mentally. It helped a few to open up to you at least a little and as time went on, with your hard work, you've earned respect for yourself even amongst the toughest nuts in the mansion. Poking through others' personal affairs and traumas carried along numerous fights as well as apologies and in the end just served to strengthen the bond between you and the residents. And yet, at times like these...you couldn' help but feel alone.

Like all the others, you had to shoulder the burden of traumas, insecurities and unpleasant experiences collected unwillingly throughout your life. You suspected the others knew of this, or at least had a hunch that you, like all of them, haven't had the pleasure of living a carefree life.

They saw you as an independent, strong and courageous woman, resilient and kind in any situation. And if you were in the right state of mind, you would agree. But lately, you began to doubt these traits of yours, the ones you valued so much and were valued for.

You weren't a stranger to struggling and you knew that anyone in need of help deserved to receive it and should not be scared to ask for it.

So why did the thought of asking for help make your stomach churn?

You've been pondering that question for a few days now. Lately, your entire reality seemed to have shifted. At first, you didn't think anything was wrong, a simple bad day, or a bad week wasn't anything to be too worried about. Nothing a nice, relaxing weekend couldn't fix, right? And yet, when you had tasks to complete, you felt agitated and annoyed, but when you had nothing to do, you were antsy and restless. Always feeling like something should be happening, like you should be doing something. For some reason, you couldn't make yourself to do the things you felt you should be doing.

Soon everything has become a bother. Tasks you could usually do with one hand were suddenly so hard that by the end of the day, the thought of bathing or changing into clean clothes made you want to scream until your throat was sore. And so you chipped away at your routine that you so painstainkingly built when you appeared in this time, until the only remaining activities in your days were your work and some basic necessities.

You knew it was getting bad. And it constantly created an almost numbing whirlwind of emotions you really didn't need right now. Why was this happening? What brought it on? Why now?? Is it going to get worse? All these questions and none you had an answer to. You had guesses and various techniques you learnt here and there back in your time, but...you couldn't bring yourself to do anything.

You were trapped. At least it felt like it. Trapped inside yourself, inside your mind. You knew you should tell someone, that if you let it go on, it would sooner or later consume you. But you couldn't do anything. It was as if your body didn't listen to you.

It seemed the residents were starting to get suspicious of your strange mood as of late. There were times when one of them would approach you and carefully ask about your wellbeing, and as much as you wanted to say something, you never did. You logically knew that the first step would be the one to break through the loop, the one that would make all the others just a little bit easier until you felt normal again. But anytime you tried to break through the selfdestructive habits you had fallen into, a wave of such tirednes, nausea and shame overcame you, that you simply caved to your mind's twisted whispers.

You concluded that your best option at this moment was to lay low and let it pass. Your days have become a steady routine of wake up, work, go to bed. And repeat. It was manageable, at first, even with the onslaught of thoughts your mind was conjuring, managing to come up with more and more ways to taunt you with. But as days and then weeks passed, your energy slowly seeped away from your body and it retaliated by shutting off and out anything unnecessary to save as much of what was remaining.

These things included mostly socialising. You became less talkative, while you would usually enthusiastically engage in conversations, if not outright start them, lately you would not speak unles directly spoken to. It has taken a toll on your concentration as well. Many times when someone would try to strike up a conversation with you, they'd have to repeat their question or even call out your name mid-conversation, because mentally you just weren't there. These things not only started to worry Sebastian, your biggest constant in your new life, given that you worked alongside him every day, but also the other residents. You knew of this, as out of it as you might have seemed and/or have been these past few weeks, you knew that they noticed, because you knew them. But what started as a simple snowball had alrady turned into an avalanche and you had to admit that you were no longer in control.

Not that you really cared. You knew you should care, should be trying harder than ever to break out of this spell, but you couldn't. And every time you might have felt strong enough to confess how you were feeling, to lean on someone, to get the help you knew you needed, a sudden pang of fear pierced your chest and you shrivelled back, back into your own small shell that was your skull.

Trying to find a reason for this foolish anxiety proved not so easy, when your mind would make up about five reasons why you should keep your mouth shut every time you even dared to ask yourself such a question.

What if they didn't believe you?

What if it wasn't not that bad?

What if you were just making it up? Making it seem bigger than it is?

These people have gone through so much. They've seen war, witnessed and felt abuse and probably had been through things you couldn't even imagine. Why should they help you, when they're the ones who needed help?

You were not worthy.

Such comparisons were something you chastised anyone who would confess experiencing them for. And yet, when it came to you, it felt like a holy truth. Something that could not and should not be questioned. Because you don't want to be selfish, do you?

You've dealt with this by yourself before, surely you could do it again and not drag down others with you. These and many others became your daily mantras. Lay low, hide, be small, don't make a noise. Survive. But was that really how you wanted to live? If you could even call that a living. You were surviving, yes, but at what cost? For a promise of a period of time where you wouldn't feel like the world is made out of cardboard? A period of time where you wouldn't feel like screaming and crying every second of every day? And how long would that last? A few months, a year maybe? Was it really worth the struggle?

You blinked yourself out of your thoughts when someone vigorously snapped in front of your eyes. Looking around in slight daze, your eyes fall upon a smiling face. "There you are! Theo says he's just waiting for you to walk face first into a wall!" Arthur says cheerily, showing you his signature smirk. "I, like the good friend I am, keep defending you of course. But it's hard when your mind seems to get further and further away from us every day. At this rate, you'll wander off into Seine soon. And we wouldn't want that, would we?" he playfully jabbed at you.

You could feel yourself shaking your head, but the only thing you could focus on was how nice it acually seemed, the cold water seeping through clothes and circling your limbs, the undercurrents keeping you down, where nothing could get you, laying you down onto the riverbed, weighed by the water in your lungs... "So, what's going on in that noggin of yours, hm?"

Arthur was, besides Sebastian, the closest person to you out of all the others. You enjoyed his easygoing demeanor and his jokes never failed to make you laugh. He was a terrible flirt though, and someties could be pretty pushy with his advances as you've realised over the time you two spent together. Luckilly, after a firm conversation backed up by Theo, he had calmed down significantly towards you. The writer still heavily complimented you, always putting that silver tongue of his to use, but you thought nothing of it. He was like that with everyone, even some of the other residents, so the possibility of it ever meaning anything more than banter or a simple compliment never even crossed your mind.

"You're doing it again." the man in question sighed. You blinked at him with confusion. As if reading your thoughts, Arthur clarified "You're in your head again. It must be something really interesting in there to make you so distracted." he joked again, but his expression turned serious "But honestly, what's going on? You haven't been yourself for quite a while now and everyone's getting worried. Even Wolf asked me if I knew what was up with you the other day!" the writer looked at you intently "You know that we're here for you, right? Even if you feel like it's stupid, if you need anything, you can tell us."

You averted your eyes from Arthur' piercing gaze. You knew his words were sincere and it made your chest squeeze uncomfortably. Looking straight ahead, in the direction which you were going, you answered, trying to make your voice as leveled as you could "Thank you for worrying Arthur, but I'm alright, really. I've been thinking of asking le Comte for a break. It would be nice to have some off time." This wasn't a complete lie, since having some down time, where you could pretend time has stopped really did sound appealing, but now you'd have to actually go and ask the good count, which you really didn't want to. Not because you were worried you wouldn't be given a break, but because it was another plan to be made and you barely had enough energy to last you until the end of the day, much less go somewhere out of your own volition.

Arthur knew that you were lying, or at least not telling him everything, so he grinned at you again and spoke confidently "Alright, love, the game is on! I gave you a chance to explain youself, but it seems I'll have to solve this mystery myself." he winked at you and you expected him to take his leave. But Arthur softly grabbed your arm and stopped you in the middle of the halway you were in. Turning to face him in his hold you looked at him questioningly. His smile is much softer now, and if you could focus properly, you would see worry glinting in his eyes "If you ever change your mind, you can stop by. Day, night, doen't matter. We're here for you, love. I'm here for you. Just as much as you're here for us." and as soon as he finished speakig, he was gone. Down the hallway, in the direction of his room. You quietly turned around, trying to process the strange encounter while you went your way.

Your mind was surprisingly quiet for a few hours after that.

You eventually did end up in le Comte's study. Nerves were wracking your body and mind the entire day and when you finally did enter the dreaded room, after all your chores were done for the day, you felt like you would start crying at any moment. For some reason, you felt awful for doing this. You didn't need the break. You didn't need off time to get better physically or because you had too many chores. Why did you want a break, besides Arthur catching on that there was, indeed, something wrong? The only thing you had planned for this break of yours was rotting away in your bed and doing as little as humanely possible. Maybe fate would be so kind and take you away in your sleep. Let you wither away like an overwatered flower.

You tried to make the discussion as quick as possible. Fortunately, the count didn't ask too many questions about your wellbeing and the reason for taking a break, remembering well that you haven't had one in a good while. He did ask if you consulted Sebas about it and you forced down a shudder at the mention of your good friend's name. Not because the butler was opposed to you taking a break, he actually kindly insisted you take one, revealing that he also noticed your mental absence in the past weeks, which could be almost counted as a month now. The worry and confusion in his tone as well as his expression made you wish he told you to stay, to help him, anything to try and convince you to not do what you were about to.

Why were you so worried? There wasn't a reason you should feel bad about taking a break. Even if you physically were just as spry as a grasshopper, taking a break for the sake of mental health was just as important. But deep down, you coudn't lie to yourself. Deep down you knew you were going to give up completely. Either for someone to find you, or to be left to rot. And right now, you hoped for the latter, even if it was still scary to admit.

After Comte gave you a week off, asking if it was enough time for you, which you hastily confirmed, feeling bile rise up your throat and wishing for the comfines of your room, your shaky legs and hazy mind managed to carry you to your room. After spending some time emptying the contents of your stomach, which were absolutely too small you would bet, you nothing but collapsed onto your bed. Mouth unrinsed, hair oily and ruffled, it had finally dawned on you how much of a mess you must have loked like. This realisation finally seemed to open the dam that was holding back everything you were feeling. The disgust, the shame, the fear, the anxiety the heavines, the loneliness, but most importnatly the longing.

Fast, salty tears carried all of that out of your body, leaving your face a puffy, sticky mess. Suddenly, you felt rage boil inside of your chest, sprading quickly to your head. Why didn't you say anything? You were so worried and because of what? Your own mind? Could you be any more stupid? The very same mind that put you through absolute hell this past month was now angry at itself, at its own actions. Why did the world have to be this cruel? Why couldn't it grant you the simple request of a mind that would not try to sabotage itself? And now it was too late.

Yo chose this, you thought to yourself. You chose this and these were the consequences of your actions. As if the tears have released all your pent up frustration in your body, all that it left was numbness. A kind of numbness that made your eyelids heavy, making them gravitate towards each other and pulling you into a deep, calm slumber. The kind of slumber you have not been able to achieve for more than the month you've been actively suffering. But also the kind of slumber that would not bring you closer to salvation.

You woke up, not knowing the time and not really finding yourself caring either. You felt strangely...calm. There was no hunger, no thirst, nothing. Only suffocating quiet, the likes of which you would feel in the deep blue of the ocean. You laid stil for what felt like hours, but could have also been minutes, before you succumbed to unconsciousness again.

This has gone on for a few days of your week long break. At one point you felt the pang of hunger, yet you had no will to satiate it. You only rose from your bed late into the night, when the squeezing walls of your stomach, at this point surely eating itself, threatened to spill nothing but its own acid. You tiptoed as quietly as your stiff muscles could into the kitchen, and after munching on some bread and water, because even though you got up, you still didn't feel like cooking, or that you deserved anything more than the simplest of dishes, you quietly stalked the halls back into your room. You fell asleep again, your stomach satisfied, or maybe convinced into satisfaction by your mind, the last thing you heard was the faint sound of Mozart's piano in the dead of the night.

This cycle had repeated for another few days. Your days were interrupted by quiet knocking that would wake you from your slow decline, and sometimes joined by murmurs behind the door. You couldn't find it in you to care. The door wasn't locked. At one point, you could swear you saw a shadow in your window, but it was gone too soon for your slowed mind to focus on it.

One morning, somewhere at the end of your break, not that you were keeping track of time, your door opened. A gust of fresh air was the first thing that barged its way into your room, chasing out the old and musty, albeit warm air from it. You shivered and wiggled deeper under your covers, grumbling hoarsely in protest. Your half asleep mind registered someone slowly walking into your room, as if they were scared to find out what was in it. You kept your eyes closed.

Arthur knelt down beside your bed, looking at your sickly, worn out face. Carefully sneaking his arm under your blanket, his hand searched for yours until it could take it into its own. Caressing your knuckles with his thumb, he cooed softly "Oh, love. I am so sorry. I am so sorry we let this get so far." You didn't respond. What was there to say? "It isn't your fault" you croaked out quietly, not having enough energy to say it loudly and fearing your voice wouldn't work.

"Why did you hide from us? We would've helped..." the writer almost whined, and you could feel the guilt and worry radiating from him. You wanted so desperately to answer, to give him a good reason for how foolish you were acting, but you couldn't. There was nothing that would excuse you. Nothing.

Seeing your slightly open eyes well up with tears, Arthur rushed closer to comfort you. Shushing and soothing you like a small child after a booster shot, he held you close and you tried not to weep hader. "It's alright, love, everything is alright. I've got you. I've got you now, it's good. You're alright."

After you calmed down slightly, you wanted nothing more than to shoo him away, close yourself off again an bury yourself into your bed to get away from the immense shame you felt. But Arthur seemed to be having none of that. He softly but insistently reached under you and helped you sit up with one arm, holding your hand with the other still. you couldn't bring yourslf to look him in the eye and yet his tone never changed from the soft lull he comforted you with. "Come on now, darling. Let's get you cleaned up."

Your mind wanted desperately to push back at him, scream and yell and fight, but you almost limply let him straighten you up and help you walk over to the bathroom. The writer's heart nearly broke in two as he saw you in the same clothes you were in when he last spoke to you. The image of you suffering in silence for so long made him nearly tear up as well, but he held himself back, focusing on you being his biggest priority.

He ran a bath for you, helped you out of your clothes, his gaze never cascading from your face, looking for any signs of overstepping any boundaries and when he found none, he helped you into the bathtub, first washing your hair and then your body, asking if you could and wanted to handle your private parts yourself. You whispered out a small yes, feeling somewhat ashamed still and wanting to make his efforts a bit easier. Letting you soak in the blissfully warm water, a question appeared in your mind "Arthur..." you called out quietly "Were you the one knocking at my door?" you asked timidly, not knowing fully if it wasn't some kind of delirium your mind put you through. The writer's face became solemn as you took a peek at his face and he spoke, his words and tone equally heavy "Everyone did. We were worried about you. After we heard about your break, we thought it might do you well. Everyone noticed that you weren't quite yourself. But after the first few days, when no one ever saw you leave the mansion, let alone your room, our worries doubled. Wolf said he noticed you walking to the kitchen at night, but Sebas only noticed small portions of bread disappearing from the kitchen, so we wanted to check up on you. We tried knocking at your door, not wanting to disturb you if you really were physically ill, but that didn't do anything." "And the window?" you interrupted him, casting your eyes downward again at the rude gesture. But Arthur continued, with no offense taken "That was Dazai. He was checking up on you a lot. In his own way." Arthur smiled sadly "Today, I had enough. Something was telling me you needed help. And I'm glad I listened to my instinct." he smiled at you and you felt your dry lips lift up ever so slightly. You were found when you needed it the most, it seemed.

After Arthur dried you off and helped you put on fresh clothes, he told you Sebas made a nutritious meal for you that wouldn't upset your stomach. He also suggested it would do you good to get out of your room for at least a little while and eat it in the kitchen. Seeing the panic in your eyes, he rushed to assure you "You don't have to talk to anyone if you don't want to." And so you nodded.

The mansion seemed awfully quiet. There was no one in the halls, no sounds from either corner of the building. On your slow trek to the kitchen, you passed Mozart. The musician didn't say anything, but his lips melted from their usual stern frown to a warm smile and you couldn't help but to start crying again. Athur sat down with you on the cold ground of the hallway, pulling you onto his lap and rocking you back and forth until you felt good enough to walk again. Mozart was nowhere in sight.

You found out that Sebas made you a delicious soup, one with enough vegetables and some meat, the broth strong enough to get you up on your feet in no time. You ate slowly and savoured every spoonful. You suddenly realised how much you've missed eating good food. After your meal was done and Arthur washed your bowl and spoon in silence, he slowly sat down next to you. "How are you feeling?" he asked carefully, knowing that you were nowhere near out of the deep end yet, but desperately hoping his efforts weren't for naught. "Better. Fuller." you answered simply. After another beat of comfortable silence, where you soaked up the sun pouring in through the windows, the writer asked again "Would you like to go back to your room?" You pursed your lips. Suddenly, the idea of your bed and the stuffy room you hid yourself away in sounded horrible. But he comfortable, fluffy clothes and full stomach were pullig at your eyelids again, sleep threatening to take over. "My room it is, then?"

Arthur piped up and you nodded. Before you knew it, you were scooped up bridal style by the vampire, feeling his soft lips on your hairline "Rest, love. I've got you." Soon, you were in a room that smelled of coffe and cologne with a hint of ink. Once again, you wriggled under the covers, these ones feeling much fresher than yours, as you succumbed to sleep once again. But this time, you weren't alone.

#requested #ikemen vampire #ikevamp #ikevamp arthur #ikevamp arthur x reader #ikevamp arthur x you #x reader #tw depression #tw suicidality #fem!reader #hurt/comfort #tw emetophobia