#don’t understand why they were so feared in the story when all you had to do was separate them and remove their weapons

[pollyanna-nana]

Imagine you’re Delgal. Imagine you were raised from birth alongside the court jester. You do everything together. You look up to him, being so much older. He seems wise and responsible, and always encouraging you and caring for you, more than your own busy parents are able to. In every sense of the word, he is your brother, despite how different you look and the distance of your station. The people around you tell you that he is an elf, the tone of their voice implying that’s something scary or even dangerous. But you disagree. That’s Thistle, your big brother.

But… as you age, things become confusing. You get taller, smarter, stronger, and Thistle is there for you through it all. Only… he never seems to change. In your entire journey to adulthood, he hardly seems to have aged a few years, if that. It’s amusing when you first grow taller than him, then grow facial hair, while Thistle’s short stature and youthful face remains the same. Still, you love him, love his music and his wit and even the bold-faced honesty that gets him in trouble if you’re not around to diffuse the situation. You wonder why such a person has been relegated to the inglorious job of jester, and your father tells you very simply that the magic elves wield is too powerful and dangerous to belong to any other position. But you think that’s nonsense, you’ve trusted Thistle from the day you were born and would do so until the day you die.

It isn’t until what should’ve been the happiest day of your life that you truly start to understand just how different Thistle is from you. Kneeling over your father’s cooling corpse, you take in the elf’s panicked face. He’s so young, so unchanged, and in that moment he seems nearly immortal to you. You’ve heard the stories of elf magic, how their spells could be used to heal wounds and raise the dead, but Thistle can’t do any of that. He hasn’t been allowed to. There’s nothing that either of you can do but watch your father slowly die in front of you.

You never want this to happen again, not when there’s something that can stop it. You make Thistle the court sorcerer, even as your advisors warn against it. But you’re the king, goddamn it, and you trust him. But more than that, you want what he can give to you. A power greater than any tallman could achieve. You become busier and busier, only checking up occasionally on his studies. He’s become incredibly proficient in a short amount of time, but your thoughts are elsewhere. Enemies knock on your door, famine chokes the population, and worst of all your beloved son has fallen ill. It’s just like the day of your wedding, but this time, you have something that can defy that fate. Thistle.

But still, it’s not enough. It seems that even elf magic has its limits, and you can’t help but become angry with him. He reacts like a scorned child— is a scorned child, as you’ve come to realize— and you apologize. But he tells you he has something secret to show you, something he’s been searching for, researching for these past few years. The idea unsettles you, but you’ve become desperate, and you can see that he has, too. So you follow him into the dungeon, watch him smash the statue of your kingdom’s guardian and pull the book from the rubble that would decide your and your people’s fate.

Your son is healed, your enemies repelled, and your people fed and taken care of. You’re happy, and so Thistle is, too. You recognize, vaguely, that despite this achievement the familial bonds between the two of you have never been thinner. But you don’t dwell on it. He did what you needed him to do, and now you no longer had to fear the indignity of death or strife.

But of course, things do not remain sweet forever. Thistle has only grown more attached to you, more loyal, and his behavior has become erratic and strange. He keeps you all cooped up in the dungeon, insisting that the outside world is too dangerous. There’s a hardness to his still-youthful features that you never saw throughout all those years growing up alongside him. Slowly but surely the person in your memory is replaced by something frightening, almost repulsive, after he strips your own son’s soul from his body. He seems so unaffected by it all, so… inhuman.

Eventually he decides to give you what you said you wanted all those years ago: to no longer fear death. To become immortal. But it is not what you had hoped for— every day seems to drag into infinity, with joy and mirth seeping rapidly from the unsettled townsfolk as decades, then centuries pass. Thistle has become entirely unapproachable, spending all his time fortifying the dungeon and watching obsessively for any signs of traitors that might challenge the throne. You feel hopeless in it all. No matter how you beg, he never seems to hear you. His power is overwhelming and you fear how he might react to more direct commands. The guilt is intense… you know you pushed him into this, pushed him to find a way to achieve everlasting peace at any cost. But this cost is too much. How could he not see that?

1000 years. 1000 years of this torture, and the population of your kingdom has dwindled to almost nothing. In your dreams you see the vision of a golden lion in chains, its wings pinned as it pleads with you to save it. To save your kingdom, to put the remaining souls to rest. You know what needs to be done, it’s told you the best way. You tell the mad mage that you wish to have dinner together with the whole ‘family’— just like the olden days— and the way his face lights up is almost enough to make you reconsider. Almost.

It was a lie, of course. While he’s distracted you take your son’s empty body, making your way to the surface as fast as your legs can carry you. You know what’s about to happen. You’ll become nothing but dust, but you’ll be free. And with any luck, soon everyone else will be, too. Breaching the surface you get the first rays of sun on your face in a millennium, take your last breaths of fresh air as you tell the story that will free your kingdom.

As you crumble away to nothing, a last thought enters your mind. Perhaps they were all right. Perhaps it was a mistake to trust an elf.

#polly speaks #dungeon meshi #dunmeshi #dungeon meshi spoilers #thistle dungeon meshi #Delgal #dungeon meta #thistle posting #anyway. how we doin #I think Delgal’s so interesting as a character bc I kind of hate him but also have no idea how to feel abt him #so. potential character thought study

[wilwheaton]

When you watch The Curse, you are watching two children who were abused and exploited daily during production. No adults protected us.

This was originally published on my blog in August, 2022.

I had a wonderful time at Steel City Comicon this weekend. It was my first time at this particular con, so I didn’t know there was such a huge contingent of horror fans, creators, and vendors who attend.

I love horror, and I was pretty psyched to be in the same place as John Carpenter and Tom Savini, across the street from the Dawn of the Dead mall. Pittsburgh feels like one of the places horror was invented, at least to me.

A number of these horror fans came to see me, and asked me to sign posters and other things from a movie my parents forced me to do when I was 13, called The Curse. I had to tell each of these people that I would not sign anything associated with that movie, because I was abused and exploited during production. The time I spent on that film remains the most traumatizing time of my life, and though I am a 50 year-old man, just typing this now makes my hands shake with remembered fear of a 13 year-old boy who nobody protected, and the absolute fury the 50 year-old man feels toward the people who hurt him.

I told this story in Still Just A Geek, and I’ve talked about it in some podcasts I did on the promo tour, but I’ve never put it out in public like this, in its entirety.

I suspect someone at the publisher would prefer I tease this and hope it drives book sales from people who want to read all of it, but I honestly don’t want to have another weekend like this one where everything is awesome, except the few times people who have no idea (and why should they) put that fucking poster in front of me, and all the fear, abandonment, and trauma come flooding back as I tell them that I won’t sign it, and why.

To their credit, each person was as horrified as they should have been, told me they had no idea (if they didn’t read my book why would they), and quickly put the poster away. They were all understanding. I am grateful for that.

But I really don’t need to tell this story over and over again, so here it is, with a child abuse and exploitation content warning, so I can just tell people to Google it.

After Stand by Me, everything changed. The attention from entertainment journalists, casting directors, and especially teen magazines came pouring in. The movie was a generational hit, beloved by critics and audiences alike, and every single one of us could pick anything to do next.

River’s parents and his agent got him Mosquito Coast, with Harrison Ford, as his next movie. I also auditioned for the role, but I knew even then that River was going to book the job. He was perfect, and I’d have to wait a little bit for my opportunity to come along.

I went on a lot of theatrical auditions after Stand by Me. I had tons of meetings with directors and the heads of casting at every major studio. It was all a very big deal, and I felt like we were all looking for something really special and amazing as my follow-up to Stand by Me.

At some point, a couple of producers contacted my agent with an offer to play one of the leads in an adaptation of H. P. Lovecraft’s “The Colour Out of Space.” The script was titled The Farm. (It would, of course, be changed when the film was released).

I read it. I did not like it. It was a shitty horror movie, and I saw that right away. It was the sort of thing you rented on Friday when the new release you wanted was already out of the store.

My mother, already an incredibly manipulative person, used every tool at her disposal to change my mind. My father threatened me, mocked me, told me “It’s your decision” when it clearly wasn’t. It was all so weird; I didn’t understand why they cared so much.

I told my parents I didn’t like it and didn’t want to do it. I clearly recall thinking it was a piece of shit that would hurt my career.

It wasn’t the first thing that had come our way that I wanted to pass on, and every other time, it hadn’t been a very big deal.

Sidebar: I was cast in Twilight Zone: The Movie, in 1983. The film tells four stories, and I was cast as the kid who can wish people into cartoonland. It was a GREAT role, in a movie I still love. (Note that Twilight Zone had four directors. One of them got three people killed. The segment I was cast in was not that one. I mention this because too many people zero in on this to deflect from what this whole thing is actually about.)

But I was CONVINCED by my parochial school teacher that if I worked on The Twilight Zone, which she had determined was satanic, I would go to hell. (This woman and her bullshit played a big role in my conversion to atheism at a young age, but when she told me that, I was all-in on the supernatural story they taught us in religion class.) I was so scared, more scared than I’d ever been to that point in my life, I cried and wailed and begged my parents to not make me do the movie. And I never told them why, because I was afraid my dad would laugh at me for being weak and afraid. My agent tried to talk me into it, and I wouldn’t budge. It’s the only thing I deeply and truly regret passing on, and I really hate I made that choice for such a stupid reason.

Okay. Back to The Curse.

This time, when I told them how much I hated it, they wouldn’t listen to me. My mother, already an incredibly manipulative person, used every tool at her disposal to change my mind. My father threatened me, mocked me, told me “It’s your decision” when it clearly wasn’t. It was all so weird; I didn’t understand why they cared so much.

That is, until they made me take a meeting with the producers of the movie, in their giant conference room on the top floor of a tall building in Hollywood. All I remember about this place was that it was huge; the table was way too big for the five of us who spread around it, and there were floor-to-ceiling windows on three of the walls, but the room was still dark. There was a weird optical illusion in the center of the table, this thing they sold in the Sharper Image catalog, made from two reflective dishes with a hole in the top of one. You placed an object in the bottom of the bottom dish, and it made it look like that object was floating above the whole thing. They had a plastic spider in it. What a strange detail for me to remember, but it’s as clear in my memory as if I were sitting in that room right now.

One man, who I presumed was the executive producer, was European or Middle Eastern (I didn’t know the difference then, he was just Not Like People I Knew), and I was instantly afraid of him. He was intimidating, and seemed like a person who got what he wanted.

So we sat there, my father who didn’t give a shit about me, my mother who was cosplaying as someone with experience, and me, thirteen years old, awkward as fuck, and scared to death.

I don’t remember what they said to me in their pitch or anything other than how uncomfortable and anxious I was to even be in that room. I tried so hard to be grown up and mature, but I — and my parents — was way out of my depth. I’d done one big movie and that was it. We didn’t have my agent with us, who had lots of experience and would have known what questions to ask.

No, in place of my experienced agent, my mother had decided she was going to be my manager, and she tackled the responsibility with an enthusiasm that was only matched by her absolute incompetence and inability to go toe-to-toe with producers the way my agent did. She was outwitted, out-thought, and outmaneuvered at every turn.

“You don’t have a choice,” my father commanded. “You are doing this movie.”

So we sat there, my father who didn’t give a shit about me, my mother who was cosplaying as someone with experience, and me, thirteen years old, awkward as fuck, and scared to death.

At some point, this man, who is represented in my memory by big Jim Jones sunglasses under dark hair above an open collar, said, “We are offering you a hundred thousand dollars and round-trip travel for your whole family. We will cast your sister, Amy, to play your sister in the movie.”

It all made sense, now. I was only thirteen, but I knew my parents were pushing me so hard because this company was offering me — them, really — more money than I’d ever imagined I’d earn in my life, much less a single job.

I knew that the right thing to do, the smart thing to do, was to say no. There would be other opportunities, and it was stupid to cash myself out of feature films for what I thought was, in the grand scheme of things, not very much money.

It’s incredible to me that I knew all of this. It’s incredible to me that I could see all these things, plainly and clearly, and my parents couldn’t (or, more likely, chose not to).

So after this man made his offer, all the adults in the room ganged up on me, selling me HARD on this movie.

My mother said, “Don’t you want your sister to have the same opportunities you’ve had? Wouldn’t it be fun and exciting to go to Rome? Think of all the history!”

The experience was awful. It was the worst experience I have ever had on a set in my life, by every single metric. The movie is awful, and it is the embarrassment I knew it would be.

I don’t think about this very often, because it’s super upsetting to me. Right now, I’m so angry at my parents for subjecting me and my sister to this entire experience. But I’m getting ahead of myself.

In that moment, I felt bullied and trapped. All these adults were talking to me at the same time, and I just wanted it to stop. I just wanted to go home and get out of this room. I just wanted to go be a kid, so I did what I’d learned to do to survive: I gave in and did what my parents wanted.

The experience was awful. It was the worst experience I have ever had on a set in my life, by every single metric. The movie is awful, and it is the embarrassment I knew it would be.

But here’s the thing: when you watch The Curse, you are watching two children, me and my sister, who were abused on a daily basis. The production did not follow a single labor law. They worked us for twelve hours a day, on multiple film units (while I work on First unit, second unit sets up and waits for me. When I should get a break to rest, they send me to Second unit, then to Third unit, then back to First unit. I was 13.) without any breaks, five days a week. I was exhausted the entire time. I was inappropriately touched by two different adults during production. I knew it was wrong, but I was so scared and ashamed, and I felt so unsupported, I didn’t tell anyone. I knew my dad wouldn’t believe me, and my mother would blame me. Anything to keep the production happy, that’s what she did. That was more important to her than the health and safety of her children. The director was coked out of his mind most of the time, incompetent, and so busy fucking or trying to fuck one of the women in the cast, he was worse than useless. He was a fading actor who was cosplaying as a director, as in over his head as my mother. My sister and I were never safe. Instead of harmless atmospheric SFX smoke, they set hay on fire in barrels and blew actual smoke onto the set. They took buckets of talc, broken wood, bits of wallpaper and plaster, and threw it into my face during a scene inside the collapsing house. My sister is in a scene where she goes to get eggs from some chickens, and they attack her. So they hired Lucio Fulci, the Italian horror master, to direct her sequence. His idea, which everyone was totally on board with, was to throw chickens at my sister. Live chickens, live roosters, live birds. Just throw them at a nine-year-old girl. Oh, and then tie them to her arms and legs so they’ll peck her. All of this happened under my mother’s observation, and with her full participation.

Everything I need to know about who my parents are is wrapped up in that experience: the total lack of concern for my safety and happiness, treating me like an asset instead of a son, lying to me, manipulating me, and using me to get things they wanted, and then gaslighting me about it.

If just ONE of the things I can remember happened to someone I loved, I would have grabbed my kids, gone to the airport, and flown home. Fuck those abusive assholes in the production. Let the lawyers sort it all out. Nobody hurts my children and gets away with it.

My mom says she “had some talks” with the producers. She claims that, once, she wouldn’t let us leave the hotel. (God, what a fucking dump that place was. It was just slightly better than a hostel.) I have no memory of that, but honestly the entire experience was so traumatic, I’ve blocked most of it out.

The movie was the commercial and critical failure I knew it would be. My parents spent the money. I don’t know what they spent it on. I got to keep fifteen cents of every dollar, so . . . yay?

My sister and I hardly ever talk about this. I suspect it was as upsetting and traumatic for her as it was for me. I told her I was writing about it, and asked her if she remembered anything. She told me she’d been lied to her whole life about this movie. Our mother let her believe she had been cast on the strength of her audition. “I was excited to work with you,” she said. She reminded me about some stuff I’d blocked out, including a scene where my character’s older brother (played by an actor named Malcolm Danare, who was kind and gentle, and made both of us feel safer when he was around) shoves my character into a pile of cow shit. When it came time to shoot the scene, the mud they’d put together to be the cow shit looked an awful lot like cow shit. When Malcolm pushed me into it, we all found out it was real cow shit. I was FURIOUS. The director had lied to me and had allowed me to have my entire body shoved into an actual pile of actual cow shit. I don’t remember what I said, but I remember he treated me the exact same way my father did whenever I got upset: he laughed at me, told me I was being too sensitive, reminded me that he was the director and he wanted to get a “real” performance out of me, and concluded, “If it bothers you so much, we’ll get you a hepatitis shot,” before he walked away.

My sister also recalled that, after she survived the scene with the chickens, it was the producers’ idea to give her one as a pet.

Okay, let’s unpack that for a quick second: you’ve been traumatized by these birds, so we’re going to give you one as a pet. That you’ll somehow keep in your hotel, and then will somehow get back to America. It will shock you to learn that neither of those things happened.

She remembered, as I do, the huge fight I had with my parents in our kitchen, where I told them I hated the script and I hated the movie. I didn’t want to do it, and I hated that they were making me do it.

“You don’t have a choice,” my father commanded. “You are doing this movie.”

“This is the only film you are being offered,” my mother lied to me. She made me feel like, if I didn’t do this movie, I would never do another movie again in my life. I had to do this movie. As my father bellowed, I had no choice.

Both of my parents denied this argument ever happened. Can I tell you how reassuring it is to know that my sister, who was also there, remembers it the same way I do?

The makeup department decided they would literally cut my little sister’s face with a scalpel, in three places, and put bandages over them.

But one thing she told me, the thing I did not know, the thing that makes me so angry I want to break things, actually managed to make the entire experience even worse than I remembered it.

There’s a scene after her chicken incident where I check up on her in her bedroom. She’s got cuts and bruises, and I guess we talk about it. I don’t remember and I can’t watch the movie because I’m terrified it will give me a PTSD flashback (I’ve had one of those and I recommend avoiding it). Here’s the thing about that scene: she has some cuts on her face, and those cuts are real. They are not makeup.

I’m going to repeat that. My nine-year-old little sister had actual cuts on her face that were placed there by an adult, on purpose.

The makeup department decided they would literally cut my little sister’s face with a scalpel, in three places, and put bandages over them. My sister told me our mother wasn’t in the makeup room when this happened — honestly, it seemed like our mother was strangely and conveniently absent when most of the really terrible things happened to us on the set — and when my sister told her what they’d done, she “lost her shit” at the production. She was pissed, I guess, which is appropriate and surprising. I wonder what would have to have happened for her to put us on a plane and get us home to safety? I mean, her son being abused daily didn’t do it, and her daughter being CUT IN THE FACE ON PURPOSE didn’t do it.

I just . . . I can’t. I can’t understand or comprehend allowing your own children to be physically and emotionally abused. They were literally selling my sister and me to these people, like we were some kind of commodity.

This was a tough conversation. My sister’s experience with our parents is very different from mine. My sister and I love each other. We’re close. I know it’s hard for her to hear that her brother, who she loves, was so abused by her parents, who she also loves. I was really grateful she made the time to talk to me about it, and grateful the experience wasn’t as horrible for her as it was for me.

As we were finishing our call, Amy also remembered one man, a young Italian named Luka, who was our driver for the movie. I haven’t thought about him in thirty years, but I can see his face now. He was kind, he was friendly, he taught us how to kick a soccer ball, and in the middle of an abusive, torturous experience, he stood out as a kind and gentle man. I mention him because she remembered him, which made me remember him, and goddammit I want at least one small part of this thing to not be awful.

The Curse remains one of the most consequential times the adults in my life failed to protect me. I’m 50. I still have nightmares.

Ultimately, as I predicted and feared, this piece of shit movie cashed me out of respectable films forever. I got offers for movies, but they were always mindless comedies or exploitative horror films. They were never the serious dramas I wanted to work in after Stand by Me. The industry looked at me and River, wondering if one or both of us would become a breakout star. They quickly saw that River was doing real acting work, and I was in this piece of shit. For River, Stand by Me was a beginning. For me, it would turn out to be pretty much everything, at least as far as film goes.

There are thousands of reasons film careers do and don’t take off. Maybe mine wouldn’t have taken off anyway. Clearly, it’s not where my life ended up, and I’m super okay with that now. But when all of this happened, it hurt and haunted me.

The Curse remains one of the most consequential times the adults in my life failed to protect me. I’m 50. I still have nightmares. Everything I need to know about who my parents are is wrapped up in that experience: the total lack of concern for my safety and happiness, treating me like an asset instead of a son, lying to me, manipulating me, and using me to get things they wanted, and then gaslighting me about it.

This annotation is the last thing I wrote before I turned this manuscript in, because opening these wounds is hard and painful. I put it off as long as I could, and I feel like I’m still holding back, because just this small glimpse of the experience has taken me a week to write. I can’t imagine trying to go back and unpack the whole thing. (Note that is not in the book: I’ve made an EMDR appointment to work on this because the nightmares have come back after the weekend).

Fuck The Curse, and fuck every single person who exploited and hurt two beautiful children to make it. You all participated in child abuse, and you all knew better. Shame on all of you. I hope this follows you to the end of your life. I hope that living with what you did to innocent children has been as hard for you as it has been for me, because you deserve no less.

#tw abuse #tw child abuse #tw exploitation #child actor #still just a geek #lucio fulci #trauma survivor #speaking up for the child who was silenced by his abusers

[solarrue]

GENSHIN HCS | YOU FALL ASLEEP ON THEM

(sorry for being gone for like forever. didn’t have much motivation to write lol.)

Characters: scaramouche, il dottore, raiden shogun, klee (platonic), ayato, yae miko, xiao, zhongli, ganyu and ayaka x gn!reader

scaramouche

To be honest, I feel like he would act as though he hates it that you fell asleep on his shoulder, but inside he loves it. His heart practically screaming inside.

After a while, he would get tired of it, and purposely say something out loud, or softly shake you until you wake up. If you don’t, he’ll just pick you up and carry you to your bedroom.

il dottore

Dottore actually wouldn’t mind. If you two are alone, he would simply lay his head on top of yours and listen to your breathing. If you’re in public though, he’ll just act as if nothing had happened, and probably act as if he finds it unpleasant, just so he doesn’t ruin his image y’know.

If you’re overworked and you fall asleep on him while researching something, he might just do it for you, and complete it while letting you rest on his comfortable shoulder.

raiden shogun

Raiden would try her best not to move so she doesn’t wake you. If she does, she’ll feel really bad and apologize. She would try to make it up to you, even if you insist that she doesn’t have to.

She would probably stop the loud ass thunderstorm, and change the weather to something more calming, like gentle rain. She would also carry you to your bedroom, so that it’s more comfy for you.

klee

She would probably be really startled at first. One second, you were helping Klee make her massive bomb for something who knows what, and a second later you were snoring, while your head was on top of hers.

Klee wouldn’t really know what to do, she would probably try to wake you up. If that doesn’t work, she will ask somebody for help, either Jean, Kaeya or Lisa.

ayato

You two would be sitting in his study, with you next to him reading a book. The atmosphere was really relaxing, and caused you to rest your eyes a bit, which resulted to you falling asleep on Ayato.

He jumped a bit after feeling your head on his shoulder, but then he smirked a bit, before placing your head on his lap so you didn’t have to sleep in an uncomfortable position.

yae miko

Yae would probably chuckle a bit on seeing your cute expression while you’re sleeping. I have a feeling she would admire you for a little while, before carrying you to your bedroom.

If she doesn’t have anything else to do for the day, she climb into bed with you. Without noticing it, she would turn into her fox form. So, don’t be surprised when you have a some fox fur everywhere in your bed when you wake up.

xiao

Just like Scaramouche, he would pretend as if he hates it when you fall asleep on him. Probably rolling his eyes or something. He’s not so used to physical touch, so this may seem kinda weird for him.

He may be awkward at first, but later on he would soften up a bit. Maybe laying his head on yours, or just admire you as you sleep.

zhongli

You two were laying in bed together, your head on his chest, and Zhongli was telling you stories about his past. That was until, he heard a light snore come from underneath him, he slightly smiled to himself.

Zhongli doesn’t really sleep that much, so it would be a while until he falls asleep, so he would just continue telling his stories even though you weren’t exactly listening.

ganyu

If you’re overworked and fall asleep on her, she wouldn’t mind. As a workaholic, she understands how it must feel to have so much work on your shoulders.

By seeing you sleep, she too, would get really tired. She would carry you to your shared bedroom, where you two were cuddling until one of you woke up from your slumber.

ayaka

I have a feeling Ayaka would become a blushing mess. Turning all red, but she doesn’t even know why. She would look at you, smiling to herself at how cute you looked.

She wouldn’t know if to move you to a more comfortable place to sleep in fear of waking you up, so she doesn’t, she just stays still until you wake up.

<3

I’m sorry again for being away for so long, I just never have the time or motivation to write anymore. I’ll try to write from time to time though.

Requests are open, so send in some!

Bye bye!

#il dottore x reader #scaramouche x reader #raiden shogun x reader #klee x reader platonic #kamisato ayato x reader #yae miko x reader #xiao x reader #zhongli x reader #ganyu x reader #kamisato ayaka x reader #genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact x you #ei x reader #genshin x reader #morax x reader #raiden shogun headcanons #scaramouche headcanons #il dottore headcanons #klee headcanons #kamisato ayato headcanons #kamisato ayaka headcanons #zhongli headcanons #morax headcanons #ganyu headcanons #xiao headcanons #yae miko headcanons #genshin headcanons #genshin impact headcanons #x reader

[unmarlou]

i’m your man.

pairings. luke castellan x fem!reader.

summary. you believe him like a god, he’ll betray you like a man.

cw. religious themes.

lacy says. cannot get this man out of my head.

· · ౨ৎ · ·

luke was the fallen angel.

his face was so hard, so harsh, so mean you could barely bring yourself to believe this was once the godlikeness you’d given all your love to.

he was unfazed, unconcerned with his actions. and he couldn’t, for the life of him, understand why you were. what was it to you that he was leaving that little boy to rot in the forest? couldn’t you see the bigger picture, the one he’d taken his time to meticulously paint for you?

the way he’d hush his voice in the nights, hold you close, and recite stories of the horrors your parentage had rained on those just like him, just like you.

when you’d push him away, tell him to stop, he’d only come back again, gentler this time in hopes of regaining your innocent curiosity.

why are you hungry if you’re the gods daughter?

you’d be committing great sin if you said his few and far between whispers in your ear didn’t permeate your thoughts when begging for recognition, an ounce of praise from that of your own half.

his white knuckled grip on his blade wasn’t scary. you knew the real terror in your heart, throat, and stomach came from his mind, his words, when his lovely fingertips were caressing your cheek.

he’d take you aside, offering secret knowledge and unending reward, all on the pretenses of love. unwavering, all consuming love. a lie that is partly the truth is a harder matter to fight.

if you don’t come with me, he’d say, you’ll die.

how were you to fear death if you’ve never known it?

his eyes were so dark, even under the light of distant fireworks. was he really the source of these bruises on your knees, from years of complete devotion at his alter?

these were the final moments of decision. would you believe him, take his word as gospel? drink the poison he’d been slipping into your goblet? accept his divinity as the all powerful?

luke was the fallen angel, the serpent. and the hand he’d extended held the worlds ripest apple.

· · ౨ৎ · ·



#luke castellan #luke castellan x yn #luke castellan angst #luke castellan fic #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan imagine #luke castellan fanfic #luke castellan x you #pjo imagine #pjo fanfic #pjo #percy jackson #percy jackson fic #percy jackon and the olympians #fanfic #imagine #Spotify

[boldlygoingtohell]

In a weird way, as a Jew, I can kinda take Normal Antisemitism™️.

I mean, I understand where right-wing racists are coming from when it comes to their antisemitism. At the end of the day, theirs just comes from fear, replacement theory, etc… It’s easily identifiable. 2+2=4. Yea its shitty, but I see how they got from A to B and it’s a straight line.

But left-wing antisemitism?? Like, how does that happen? I thought the left was about supporting minority groups, encouraging them to speak and be heard. But all I’m seeing from leftists these days (I myself being super fucking liberal, left, etc…) is just waves and waves of antisemitism. And yes it has to do with Israel, but these people are incapable of criticizing the Israeli government without going “all Jews are responsible!” in the process. It's infuriating.

Are all the the world’s Jews, millions of which live OUTSIDE of Israel, now responsible for Israel’s actions? I'M a stupid American! I’ve never even BEEN to Israel, much less know the intricate details of a geo-political conflict whose complexities go willfully unlearned by armchair activists in favor of yelling in all caps for 140 characters.

But what really gets me, and I mean REALLY get me about the whole situation, is the hypocrisy.

Remember how awful it was when we saw waves of Islamophobic hate crimes after 9/11, American Muslims with no ties to al-Qaeda being targeted for the faith those terrorists claimed to represent?

Or do you remember standing against the wave of anti-Asian hate crimes that was spurned on by COVID falsehoods? The “China virus” as Trump so eloquently put it? You remember being pissed about that, not blaming Asian Americans but standing with them against hate?

And hell, I’ve heard there has been a rash of Islamophobic attacks again because of the Israeli-Gaza conflict. That’s fucking awful, and I will stand against that bull shit because it does not belong here, end of story.

But now there are also antisemitic attacks, hate crimes, being perpetrated around the world. And who are the perpetrators now? The left that stood against everything else. There's no widespread ally-ship for Jews like me. There's no sweeping social media campaign, no catchy hashtag, no ice bucket challenge.

Why am I allowed to be condemned for what a country on the other side of the world is doing, when I have nothing to do with it? Why can I have the finger pointed at me when I don’t want the fighting in the first place? Why must Jews be allowed to be the target of this ire when it's already been decided that other ethnicities/religions don't deserve it either?

Now, I am PROUD to be Jewish; it is my culture, in my heritage, in my literal blood. It is in my genetics, my bones, my spoken language, it is in the holidays I celebrate, the philosophies I live by.

But it is also in the generational trauma of my mother insisting I have a passport as a young child, not because we were traveling, but in case we had to flee. It is in her inherent distrust of the government; a card-carrying Democrat all her life, she would always remind me, "if you don't think the government can't turn on you, you're kidding yourself." It is her constant reminders that as a Jew, our assimilation is conditional, our acceptance is political. I felt these, but never as strongly as she did. Not until now.

I am third generation American, and yet I feel like an outsider in the only country I have ever known. People who I thought understood, who were my friends, who marched with me against the injustices of the world, are now calling after Jews to answer for Israel's actions.

I say I don't want the violence to persist and I'm told that I'm, "one of the good ones". I'm told hurt Israelis don't deserve sympathy because, "all Jews are rich anyway, right? Who cares." I tell them my fears about the rising antisemitism and wearing my star of david necklace out. I'm told, "it doesn't matter, you're white anyway."

For the first time in my life, the racists aren't just some crazy KKK members. They're not just Nazis marching around with beer bellies and ill fitting helmets. It's not just some screeching street preacher who claims I'm going to hell after he caught the glint off my star of david necklace. If needs be, I can kick and punch my way out of those. They're just idiots. Isolated, concentrated incidents. It'd be a good story to tell at a bar the next day though a gap-toothed smile and a sling on my shoulder.

But now, both sides are coming after me and my people. Now, it's not just idiots who have all of their views backwards; it's people I thought I could trust to have my back, to go down swinging with me against those Nazis. Right. Left. It's everywhere. There's no escape.

It's coming from all sides. It's coming from social media platforms, from dinners with friends, from posters on street lamps.

I live in one of the safest, most Jewish neighborhoods in America, and for the first time in my life I am truly scared.

#jumblr #antisemitism #judaism #jewish #I'm just so tired of it all #I wasn't an anxious person before this #racism #long post I guess #can we go back to the days of punching Nazis? #life was simple

[alyakthedorklord]

Chiroptophobia: the Fear of Bats.

Bruce Wayne is Scared of Bats. This is a Canon Fact.

In a difference from canon, Batman pretends to actually BE a bat man.

(Again, “Loading and Aspect Ratio” by JUBE514 situation with fake wings. Please go read it I love it so much.)

Bruce turns himself into a physical manifestation of his personal worst nightmares, and sets out to be a street cryptid. People see him flinching from bright lights and loud noises (he hasn’t slept in three days and he really hates guns) twitching weirdly (testing his wings function/stimming) not fully understanding human social niceties (you cannot tell me this man isn't Autistic) and, duh, wings, and go ah yes this being is Inhuman.

However, people KNOW Brucie Wayne™ is petrified of bats. There was an incident at a party when one flew through a window, another at a zoo, there was this one time Manbat showed up and he practically teleported away. No one saw him for a whole month, even after Batman had captured Manbat. (He got injured in the fight.)

By extension, this means that Bruce Wayne is afraid of Batman. Just- absolutely terrified of him. No ones seen them in the same place. Ever. Bruce Wayne actually publicly refuses to even believe in the cryptid for YEARS past when he's already been proven to exist.

When the Justice League gets called in to protect Bruce and his smattering of children from some plot (batman conspicuously absent, despite Gotham being his territory) Bruce straight up tells the league that he doesn’t believe in Batman, and he feels much safer with “real heroes” rather than “a urban legend spawned from overdramatic furries and gang wars.”

The justice league is, obviously, confused.

Certified little shits Dick, Jason, and Tim, (because we’re going with JUBE514’s canon and jason doesn’t die they’re all brothers f off-)

ANYWAYS: Certified Little Shits Dick, Jason, and Tim, ready for chaos/solidifying secret identities: “Don’t worry! We believe in batman! We saw him!” :D

They then proceed to tell the justice league that Bruce HAS met Batman, but he has a phobia of bats, so when Batman saved them at a gala Bruce screamed so loud and shrill he threw off the bat-hearing and then punched batman in the face so hard he knocked him out cold, grabbed then-baby Jason and ran. (Nightwing and the second Robin had to HEROICALLY rescue a dazed Batman, Dick saw it with his own eyes!)

Bruce was so scared of the bat coming to take revenge that he jumped at every shadow for a whole month. Why, Jason, (who was younger then) had slept in Bruce's bed to keep him safe! (Dick is crooning about his cute little brother. Jason, who is hitting his growth spurt and not a little kid anymore, is infinitely embarrassed.) Right now, Brucie has settled into firmly denying Batman’s entire existence so that he can sleep soundly at night.

“Why is he so scared of bats?” The Justice League is wondering. Oh, they are so glad they asked!

“Alfred told us a story once,” Dick says, eyes wide and innocent as he prepares to lie through his fucking teeth, “that when Bruce was little, really little, he got trapped in a cave filled with bats, and his dad had to come rescue him. Apparently, Little Bruce had been crying about a massive bat, even bigger than he was, with glowing red eyes and human hands and (gasp) wait oh my goodness gracious what if that was the BATMAN :0”

“The baby batman.” Jadon adds.

“Batboy?” Tim wonders.

“Alfred, do you think Bruce met Batman when they were little?” Dick asks.

“I believe,” Alfred “the greatest enabler” Pennyworth hums, offering fresh baked scones to thier gleeful audience, “that Master Bruce referred to what he saw as ‘the bat king’ and reported seeing him outside his window several times over the years.”

“Maybe it really was him! Will you ask Batman for us?” Tim asks, already planning to hack the watchtower cameras and set up some popcorn with his brothers.

The Justice League, who have learned more about the Batman in one conversation than they have over MANY years of working together, tell the Wayne children that it will be their Genuine Pleasure to quiz batman on his interactions with BRUCIE WAYNE who has, apparently, laid batman out cold with one punch.

Alfred adds on that he personally thinks the Batman is being rather courteous to Master Bruce, as “bat king” sightings were after “difficult times” and he doesn’t come near the manor otherwise, as robin had been the one to return some family heirlooms that one time they were stolen. He calls the batman and his robins “polite young gentlemen” and then leaves.

But now the gears are turning in the justice leagues heads. Batman? Courteous? Polite? Batman is not Courteous or Polite. Not unless something else is going on.

Now. From their point of view. Batman lives in the cave systems under the richest houses in Gotham, Phantom of the Opera style, hiding his meta form (because this batman is playing cryptid really well. Maybe he was a mutant baby of some Rich Gothamites, who threw him into the caves in shame!) He’s been watching Bruce Wayne, likely as he struggled with the highly reported on demise of his parents, seeing the effects that crime had on the boy that fell into his cave all those years ago. Batman has always been so protective of children, so hateful of guns, obviously the Wayne tragedy is part of what motivates him. He loves Gotham dearly, territorial of it to the point of keeping other heroes out, and yet he breaks that rule here, for Gotham's prince, solely for Bruce’s comfort.

Bruce, another person who obviously loves the city of Gotham just as much, putting millions into charity and relief efforts. Who is clearly very protective of his children, even if he usually has no spine, to the point of attacking his greatest fear to keep then safe, and good enough to land a hit, even. (Bruce Wayne is also considerably attractive.)

Its all so clear to the Justice League: Batman is madly in love with Bruce Wayne. Has been for years. To the point of watching him sleep, on occasion. How very tragic! Batman, in love with someone he can never be with! Not only would it paint a massive target on Bruce’s back if they ever did get together- there’s no questioning what Gotham villains would do if they discovered this, (and denying himself love out of an attempt to keep others safe is EXACTLY the kind of self-sacrificing nonsense Batman would pull) But Batman can’t even truly see the man he’s in love with without Brucie running away in terror! Well, the poor guy… how sad…

This conclusion can be supported by the following evidence-

Batman’s first appearance being right after Bruce Wayne returned to Gotham. Was the bat following him to protect him in those missing years? Or maybe he decided to clean up the city now that his beloved had returned?

Batman always being seen near where Bruce is. He’s never once been at the watchtower when Bruce has a public appearance- he must be watching over him, a silent guardian in case someone gets it in their head to kidnap Gotham’s Prince.

Batman insisting that Bruce is innocent in a corporate scheme, despite evidence to the contrary. (Hes right in the end, of course, but they’ve never seen him ignore evidence so clear.)

Batman casually referencing Wayne Tech/Foundation inner workings- he keeps an eye on them, of course. (If he can’t be close to the object of his affections, the league reasons, of course he’d make sure that Bruce’s company and projects are on the right track)

Nightwing, when asked, confirms the Bruce Punching Batman story. He says “honestly I think B was impressed! Caught him off guard!” (Since when does Batman lower his guard? Only when he’d be… distracted, perhaps…)

Superman saves Bruce, who thanks him with a kiss on the cheek. Later, justice league was teasing Clark, batman huffs and leaves the room. He’s CLEARLY jealous! Superman feels just awful!

Batman inexplicably knowing social dances/high society manners- he must have learned by watching (stalking) bruce! He can navigate high profile talk if he wants to, he just doesn’t want to most of the time. but if the situation calls for it he can talk like the Richest of Pricks in a way that only comes with observation.

Batman bristling when some of the league members start making Comments on Brucie Wayne’s Physical Attributes. (Jealousy? Defensiveness? Perhaps… embarrassment at GL’s detailed explanation on what he’d do with a chance in bed with Brucie.)

Batman absolutely freezing up when confronted with any of the above evidence. (He’s trying SO HARD not to laugh/go tell his kids)

Dick/Jason being big enough to wear the Bat-wings rather than thier own and be convincing- they save Bruce, though the man passes out (from fear? Blood loss from an injury? Perhaps- he is faking) and Dick/Jason, either out of genuine concern for their dad or general “how can i stir the pot” chaos, gently strokes his hair away from his face in an act of compassion that the cameras just so happen to catch. (There’s a few tears shed in the justice league- poor batman! He can’t be with his love!)

The robins (in both identities) telling the justice league that they've seen batman watching him.

“oh yeah he does background checks on aaaaaall bruces conquests. Had a conniption when brucie found a mafia boss that one time.”

“And when he found out Bruce and Two-face had a fling!”

(The league notes that often, if a criminal gets too close to Brucie, they’re put away not long after. B is usually collecting evidence in his civilian ID. But it looks like angry Batman wanted them to get the hell away from his mans.)

The Justice League is swooning over this tragic, forbidden love story. Batman is a little creepy but hey. He apparently grew up in a cave system. Its a wonder he's as well adjusted as he is. Batman has their sympathy, he seems less unflappable/untouchable, they’re a little more understanding with him now. Superman is all too happy to be a rebound, if needed. There are magic users offering glamour spells. Green Lantern is making exposure therapy innuendos.

The robins can’t believe how lucky they got. They’re def grounded but B can’t be too mad bc his secret identity is FUKIN SET.

Alfred is rather proud of Batman's new nickname in the league being “the bat king” and keeps sending batman along with cookies. The league thinks Batman is checking up on bruce with his butler. Its a mess.

Eventually, Batman loses a bet to one of his kids. Committing to the Bit with an exasperated sigh (he’s definitely not having fun, shut up jason.)

He admits to his crush.

#cryptid batman #brucie wayne #wing fic #justice league #dc universe #dc prompt #when the league finds out they’re almost offended #b just sheugs and say they drew their own conclusions #also his robins and alfred were having fun #bruce wayne #batman #bruce wayne x batman #superbat

[writingficsanddaydreams]

Worried Thoughts

Mihawk x gn!reader

Summary: he thinks you’re afraid of him, but really you feel more comfortable here than anywhere else. If only you could figure out how to explain that.

Content: fluffy cozy piece. Just a hint of romance. Reader is autistic.

Warnings: reader is somewhat insecure about their autistic traits.

A/N: Couldn’t get this idea out of my head, so I’m sharing with all of you. It’s been a long time since I wrote any fanfic so I might do more, I might not, we’ll see. Story is based on live action Mihawk with some inspiration from the little bit I know about the anime. Enjoy!

—————

He’s frustrated with you.

He doesn’t let it show. Mihawk is too controlled for that, too stoic. Besides, you’ve come to learn the look of casual disdain he wears is for everyone, not just you.

But he’s still frustrated with you.

You can see it in the little things. The slight furrow of his brow. The way he watches you over his book. The long, drawn out sips of wine.

It’s the things you’ve learned to look for after a lifetime of having to watch and analyze and try so hard to fit in. A lifetime of trying to be normal.

Around Mihawk though? You don’t feel that need so much.

It’s why you let your eyes drift away from his intense, piercing gaze. It’s why, though you’re still afraid to let yourself stim too much or let too much excitement shine through when a special interest topic comes up, you do let yourself chew on your lip. And sometimes, when you catch yourself rocking because the silence is just a little too much, you don’t make yourself stop.

But still, he doesn’t quite understand it. He thinks you’re afraid of him.

You should be. Honestly you’re not sure why you aren’t. He’s the worlds greatest swordsman. He’s probably the most powerful person in all the seas. He wears that power like a cloak, holds himself in a way that warns people to step away. Step back.

You saw it in the village last week, when he had you sail with him to a nearby island so you could help pick up supplies. Folk recognized him and feared him.

To be honest, you thought he would leave you behind there. After all, he has no reason to keep sheltering you. It’s been a month since you washed up on the beach of his own gloomy island, a month since you barely evaded the monsters that live there and found your way to his door.

He let you stay, and you figured it was because of how pathetic you looked at the moment. A shipwrecked survivor on the brink of death, looking more like a drowned rat than a human.

It’s not that you’re actually pathetic. You’re not weak. Or at least not too much so. Honestly, you can hold your own against most folk back home, and you know how to sail a small ship just fine. Or at least, you thought you did.

That storm wounded your pride and has you questioning your seafaring skills.

The point is, you can take care of yourself overall. Though, you quickly learned after you first set sail a few years back that being the best in your village means nothing when so many folk out there are as powerful as gods. Competent or not, you’re nothing compared to the great warlord.

So why did he let you stay? Why was it, when you were getting ready to turn and walk away after setting foot on the village island, he handed you a small crate of supplies and said to not fall behind? Why was it he let you get back on his ship and sail all the way back here with him? 

You haven’t asked him yet, because you’re a little afraid that maybe he’ll change his mind. You’ve come to like your life on this isolated island.

But you’re getting away from yourself again. Letting your thoughts drift. It’s been a week since that village visit and now you still sit within Mihawk’s vast and rather chilly castle, hyperaware of his piercing gaze digging into your head.

“You don’t need to be so afraid of me.”

His voice makes you jump, and you realize that you’ve been rocking where you sit as you stare at the book in your lap.

“I’m not,” you manage. “I…”

Your eyes latch onto the book. You’ve been reading it for a couple of days, but you’re having trouble focusing today. Whenever you look at the words, it makes you think about how yesterday you launched into a long analysis of the adventure genre and how it really is such a shame that people don’t appreciate this book as much, since even though it was one of the first of its type there’s been so many books that have built on it since that now it seems almost predictable.

Mihawk didn’t seem bothered at the time, but now you look back at it and you’re sure he must’ve been annoyed, or at the very least bored. You’re still kicking yourself for not taking the time to check his expression when you went on that endless monologue.

“You act afraid.”

You take a quick peek out the corner of your eye, watching as he casually sips from his wine glass. Firelight flickers across his face, lighting up those vivid eyes and casting a golden hue across his dark hair. He’s not looking at you anymore, but you know that he’s still aware of everything you do.

When you find your attention catching on his chiseled chest, you quickly force your gaze away.

“You are a warlord,” you say, trying to be teasing.

“An astute observation.”

“I’m not afraid of you though.” You close your book and with it close your eyes, trying to find the right words. Trying to get them all untangled. “I… I just don’t like eye contact. With anyone.”

“I see. That is reasonable.”

It’s not the response you expected. You’re used to people judging you when they learn how are you are. You’re used to people underestimating you and assuming the worst.

You glance back up at Mihawk, then quickly away to the fireplace instead. “I’m not very good with people,” you continue, “It’s not that I don’t like them, but I don’t always understand the rules of society and stuff. And I don’t always do things the way other folk do.”

When you peek back, he’s lifted a single eyebrow. You blush. Surely he’s already noticed that. Surely you’re being silly as you explain the obvious.

“The rules of society do tend to be rather boring.”

The way he says it, so straightforward as if it makes all the sense in the world… you feel relieved giggle bubble out of you.

“I suppose you really aren’t afraid of me then,” he says, just the slightest twitch forming a smile at the corners of his lips. He tilts his head slightly, then adds. “I was thinking about your theory yesterday. It was… Intriguing.”

Something flutters in your chest. A feeling that you never really thought you’d have for somebody so dangerous. Joy. Excitement. Perhaps even some infatuation, if you’re being honest with yourself.

His castle might be vast and chilly, but it’s also comfortable. And you’ve come to truly enjoy these times where you sit together in front of the fireplace, simply existing near each other. You’ve come to enjoy just being around him. 

“Would… would you like to talk about it more?” You can’t help the hope that creeps into your tone.

“That would be pleasant.”

And so, you finally let that wall down just a little further. You let yourself start talking without holding back, let yourself feel comfortable.

When he rises from his chair and walks to stand closer to your own, his hand just barely brushing your shoulder, you let yourself feel a little bit at home.

#Mihawk #mihawk x reader #dracule mihawk #one piece mihawk #Help im so in love with this character #autistic!reader #proofreading I don’t know you

[helen-with-an-a]

The object that stood in the way of a World Cup pt. 4

Hi. So here is part 4. (The next part will be the final part of the full story with an epilogue/side story type thing, too) Big thanks to @lyak12 for helping me out once again <<3

Ona Batlle x Reader

Part 1 : Part 2 : Part 3 : Part 4 : Part 5 : Epilogue

Flashbacks are in italics

TW: bad mental health, suggestiveness

Description: Ona and R have a long-awaited argument, and R begins to heal

Word count: 3.9k

You had been given the ok from the physios to start rehab a few days after your breakdown. Alexia had told Lucy all about it, phoning her as soon as you were asleep. The pair had cleaned your flat, so there was no trace of what had transpired. Alexia was convinced the trigger had been your physical recovery. Why would she not think that? She had no reason, no way, of knowing that something was seriously wrong with your mental health. She had only known you in Barcelona. She had never seen the way you smiled so brilliantly or the loud laugh that used to brighten anyone’s day. She had only seen the small smirks and quiet chuckles. Lucy had known you for longer, though. And she was so concerned.

“Ok… and here is the changing room. Your stuff is in your locker so just get changed and head on over to the pitch, yeh?” The woman showing you around was kind. Even despite this kindness, the 19-year-old you was terrified. It was your first day at a senior England camp and everything was quickly becoming too much. You nodded at her and moved through the door. The room was nice – clean and tidy with the faint smell of floor cleaner. You recognise some of the names on the cubbies, and you couldn’t believe yours was in the mix. These were living legends. And now your name might be among them.

You came to a stop in front of yours. Even with the name on the top, you knew it was yours. It was the emptiest. You looked at the ones next to you and gawked when you saw who it was. BRONZE. Holy shit. You would be next to Lucy Bronze. It was becoming far, far too much for you. You were 19. Why would anyone want you to play for England? Ok, you had a fantastic season. Yes, you had been involved in some capacity with every goal your team had made this year so far – whether that be the first pass to start the charge, a precise cross into the box, a direct assist, and occasionally making the ball ripple into the back of the net yourself. But this … this was England. This was the Lionesses.

“Hey, you’re Y/N, right?” A northern accent broke you from your spiral. You couldn’t speak. You opened your mouth, but no sound came out. God, you were pathetic.

“I’m Lucy, it’s nice to meet you.” She extended her hand. It was warm and soft and rough. “Don’t worry about anything, yeh. I’ve got you.” She smiled as you shook her hand. She could see the panic in your eyes. She could see the fear of the unknown. “You’re gonna do great, kid. You wouldn’t be here if you didn’t deserve it.”

Ignoring Ona was easier than you thought it would be. At least initially. Pre-training activation for the team started at 10. But your daily physio appointment started at 9.30 meaning you were often in and out of the changing room before she had even stepped foot in the building. You weren’t allowed near the weights or machines for the first few weeks of rehab, so you didn’t really need to go near her during the gym sessions. When you had to start doing exercises with more than just your own body weight, you found it easier to pretend she didn’t exist. She was often hanging around Lucy and some of the younger girls in the squad, but you stuck to those on the injury list. At first it was just you and Frido, and then Jana joined and then Mapi and Alexia. You had your own group of friends who could understand the physical aspects of rehab. You didn’t like to acknowledge that you were hyper-aware of where Ona was at all times. Lucy had recognised fairly quickly that something must have happened between you and Ona. You two were like magnets with opposite charges; as one readjusted, the other did, too. What had happened to your relationship? She thought back to Derby days; the way you were so in tune with each other was unique, to say the least. Your chemistry on the pitch was electric. You always knew exactly where the other was. She thought back to the warmups, half-time and post-match huddles. You were always next to each other. You were always touching in some way. So, something serious must have happened to make you behave this way.

“Lucy,” You bounded over, escaping the red side in favour of hugging the woman clad in blue.

“Hey, kid.” She laughed as you wrapped your arms around her shoulders. “Ready to lose?” She challenged teasingly.

“Oh, please. You ain’t gonna get anything past us. Me and Oni have some solid tricks up our sleeves,”

“Don’t give all our secrets away,” Ona joked as she came to stand beside you.

“I would never, Oni. This is derby day. We will crush them to smithereens!” You leaned into her as she traced lines across your back. You had never mentioned to Lucy that you had a girlfriend or a crush, but she could see from the way you behaved that something was going on between you. You chatted away to Lucy, Keira, and some of the other City Lionesses before Ona whispered in your ear.

“Nosotras deberíamos volver” You smiled and nodded.

“Alright, later losers. Don’t cry too hard when we win.” You laughed and waved, interlocking your fingers with Ona’s as you headed back to the United Players.

Match days were the only time you allowed yourself to wonder. When you were sat in the stands, watching the matches with the rest of the injury squad, you finally allowed your eyes to roam. How did she manage to look so good? Ugh, this was torture. Her strong rippling muscles, her freckly skin, her braid, her look of concentration — she was perfect in every way.

I don’t even know why Barca wants you, honestly. You're not good enough. Of course, she would think that you weren’t good enough. She was phenomenal. She was truly world-class. Her speed was unmatched, her technical abilities were flawless, her dedication unprecedented. And then there was you. Someone who had to stay late to work on extra drills and practice your skills. Yes, she frequently volunteered to stay with you – to work on them together. But she didn’t need to do it. You did. Or at least that was what you believed.

As she started to head back to the changing rooms, Ona looked around for you. Baggers had told her a joke that she wanted to steal to hear you laugh. She quickly scanned the group but quickly realised you weren’t there. She completed a full 360 before she heard the methodical thwacks of someone kicking a ball hard.

“Amor? Home time, no?” She called out to you from the side-lines.

“You go ahead, Oni. I want to work on some free kicks and stuff. I missed the last one at the match, so,” You called back, already readjusting the mannequin figures to make it harder for yourself. She frowned at your response. Yes, the ball didn’t go into the goal following a free kick that you took in the match on Saturday. But you weren’t the problem. You had sent an amazing cross into the box, Alessia’s head had made contact with it, but Spencer’s hands had pushed the on-target shot away. It was excellent goalkeeping; even Ona had to admit that. But you saw it as your failure, not the keeper’s success.

“Amor, you don’t need to practice. You’re fantastic at set pieces.” You rolled your eyes at her statement.

“Oni –”

“No. If you want to practice, that’s fine, but you don’t need to.” She placed her hand on your cheek, raising an eyebrow at you.

“I want to,” You answered her.

“Ok… vamos. We’ll do it together, sí?”

You didn’t know that you were all Ona could like about. You were consuming her thoughts in a way that should have scared her. But it didn’t. She had tried to approach you a few times, but you always seemed to move away before she got anywhere near you. She considered that as rejection. You didn’t want her in your life anymore. And she had to accept that. No matter how much it hurt her. No matter how many times she had cried over old photos of you on her camera roll. No matter how much she longed for you. She had made you hate her. She had made her bed, and now she must lie in it. So, she said, watching you from a distance. She stayed in a corner of the gym, as far away as possible from you, so you weren’t uncomfortable. She would often stare at you from the corner of her eye under the guise of looking out the window. You were looking fantastic. The muscles were slightly smaller, closer to what they were in Manchester, but that was to be expected – you weren’t allowed to even walk for more than a few minutes for many months. You had gone back to your ‘regular’ clothes – still fashionable, but you looked happier, more like yourself. But on the rare occasion she was able to look in your eyes, she could see the mental war that was raging in your head. She hoped it was because you wanted to return to football, but she had an inkling she was at fault.

You were finally on the grass again. Soft yet firm grass, slightly damp from the morning dew. There was coldness in the air, even for Barcelona. The slight nip caught at your skin as you waited for the trainer. You had come down earlier than you needed to. You took your boots and socks off and pushed your feet into the ground – taking a moment to really appreciate this moment. It had been a long 7 months since the tackle. You hadn’t spoken about the Incident with Alexia since it happened, but that was fine. You were still broken, but you were slowly getting there. You think. You were still quiet; you didn’t like going out anywhere with the team, and whenever you were alone, your thoughts still drifted back to Manchester. You didn’t think that your mind was hindering your rehab – but it was. You weren’t as optimistic as you once were, and that reflected slightly in your progress. You were mostly on track with the plan for your return, about a week behind where you wanted to be. But that was ok; that was normal. Alexia, Frido and Mapi had promised you that it didn’t mean anything. You weren’t scared it could happen again. You wanted to be on the pitch more than anything … well, that bit wasn’t quite true. There was one thing … person … you wanted more than football, but you couldn’t allow yourself that pain.

“Estás lista para correr?” Your personal trainer, Margarita, asked.

“Sí. Más que lista.” You slipped on your boots.

“Bueno. Let’s start slow, sí. Just a gentle jog to the cone.” Margarita instructed.

Running again was wonderful. You could feel the underused muscles slowly coming back to life. With every step you took, the storm clouds in your head began to look less dark and broody. As your session progressed, you realised your fitness wasn’t what it once was. But you knew that it would return. You wouldn’t allow it not to. The session was short for you. A lot of breaks followed by stretching and more running, slowly increasing distances and speed. You weren’t allowed near a ball just yet, but you were itching for it. You had been given a taste of your past life, and you wanted and needed more.

“Ok. I think that’s enough for today. You can head back inside.” Margarita called to you as you took deep gulps from your bottle. You threw her a thumbs up and helped collect the equipment you had used.

Your studs clacked against the concrete as you walked back inside. You heard another set joining you but thought nothing of it. You didn’t turn around, too much on a high from finally running again.

“You were looking really good out there today.” You froze. That sweet, rich, caramel voice. Had she really just said that to you? After everything? Ona knew it was a risk to approach you, but she wanted to tell you how much improvement she could see. She genuinely thought you would be better once you made your return.

You scoffed.

“Qué ocurre? Estás herido? Necesito ir al fisio?”

You saw red.

“You didn’t think I was good enough before, so why would you think so now? Isn’t that what you told me? You couldn’t understand how Barca would pay so much for me. I wasn’t good enough.” She was stunned into silence. She had said all of those things to you. That day in Manchester will forever be here biggest regret. “Did everything we were mean that little to you? Did every word you said to me mean nothing? Just something to keep me strung along?” You were crying now. Ona had only seen you cry once before the World Cup.

Ona had just come back from coffee with Laia and Leila, when she heard short, sharp gasps.

“Amor?” She called from the hall. You couldn’t respond. It was getting harder and harder to breathe. You didn’t need to explain what had sent you into a spiral. She knew exactly what was running through your mind. “Mi amor. You are having an ataque de pánico. You are ok. You’re safe. I’ve got you. Te tengo. Eres todo para mí y más” She said confidently, pressing kisses to your hair as your tears soaked her shirt.

“I gave everything to you. I let you into my heart in a way no one else had. I laid my soul bare for you, and you broke it. You broke me, and I’m terrified that I can’t be fixed. You broke me in ways I never thought possible.” You were shouting, your voice echoing down the empty corridors.

“Oni …” She kissed down your neck, lips biting purple marks down your neck. “Oni … as much … as much as I want this. You’ve, we’ve… we’ve been drinking.” That didn’t matter to you. You had only had 2 drinks and she had half of the second one. She’d nursed one drink all evening, bar the sips she’d stolen from you. You wanted her so badly, but you’d never been with someone that way before.

“I only had one. I want this. Te deseo. If you don’t want to that’s fine. I don’t want to make you uncomfortable. We can do as little or as much as you want. But I’m not drunk. I promise.” She leaned back to look in your eyes. Your black bralette left a lot of skin for her to gently run her hands across. It was safe, comforting. This was Ona. Oni. Your Oni.

“It’s just … I’ve never … um … I’ve not …” You blushed hard. Ona understood what you were trying to say. She would be your first, if you let her.

“That’s ok. We don’t have to -” she began to reassure her.

“No, no. I want to. Please. I really want to. But I don’t want you to be disappointed.” You looked away.

“You could never disappoint me, mi amor.” You were always so kind, always looking out for others over yourself. “If you would let me, I would love to go further with you. All the way if you allowed me to.” The love in her voice was evident. She just wanted to take care of you in the way you deserved. “Deixa'm estimar-te.” she whispered against your chest.

“I don’t speak Catalan.”

“That’s okay. We have all the time in the world for me to teach you.” She smiled as you pushed a piece of hair behind her ear. You shivered slightly. “I thought you said you didn't get cold?”

"I'm not cold."

"Deixa'm estimar-te."

"I still don’t speak Catalan." You whispered as you tugged her to you.

You were a mess. You threw your hands in the air as you began pacing. “And yet, after everything you put me through, everything you said to me. I am still devastatingly addicted to you. You meant the world to me, and you threw me away like I was nothing. You hurt me so much that I don’t think I can ever be whole again, and still, after all of that, I am still hopelessly and absolutely in love with you.” Ona was crying, her face red, tear tracks running down her cheeks. You had to leave. You couldn’t do this. You couldn’t. You had to leave.

You rushed back around the corner and straight into arms that felt so familiar.

“Easy, kid, easy.” Lucy’s voice soothed. You clutched at her; your eyes were filled with tears. She just pulled you to her and let you bury your face in her neck. You sobbed for what felt like hours – Lucy was becoming concerned with how many tears were still falling. Eventually, you slowed down. You weren’t calm. You still had tears falling steadily, but you weren’t sobbing.

“You don’t have to tell me, kid. But I think you should tell someone. That … what just happened … that’s not … that was almost a year’s worth of feelings being let out.” Lucy had moved you to against the wall. You were still in her arms, a safety blanket for you that offered so much protection.

“I … I don’t know where to start.” You answered honestly. Everything was a giant mess in your brain. Doors to rooms in your head that you had previously sealed tightly shut were beginning to open and you were sure what to do.

“Wherever you feel most comfortable. I’ve been concerned for a while now. Something happened to you before you came to Barca—why don’t you start there?” She smoothed your hair, her nails lightly scratching.

So, you did. You told her everything. It took a while. You cried some more. She cried some more. But eventually everything was said.

“Listen, kid. … I can’t imagine what this past year has been like for you. That seems genuinely horrible. I think you need to talk to a professional and regularly. You’ve had a lot of emotions, and you will need help, proper professional help, in processing them.” You nodded. It was something that Alexia had said to you early on in your rehab, that she had emotions that she needed help dealing with, and the club had a great psychologist on hand. “I also … I also think you should step back from football for a little while. Go home, go back to England. Have a bit of a break; let yourself heal properly without the added stress of rehab.” You weren’t a fan of stopping football, but you couldn’t deny the sound of going home was appealing.

A week later, you were on a flight to London. You had cleared it with Barca. They were giving you a month to do whatever you wanted. After the month was up, they wanted you back in Barcelona, but you didn’t have to train or even consider football if you didn’t want to. You wanted to get better. You wanted to get better for yourself.

Ona was not doing much better. She had told everything to Aitana and Alexia, who had found her in the changing room showers, the water running over her fully clothed body. They had helped strip her of her wet clothes and took her home. She didn’t deserve their kindness – she was a horrible person who had hurt the best thing that had ever happened to her in ways she didn’t even think was possible. Alexia had given Ona a week to wallow in bed. After the week, she was forced to at least make it to the kitchen. Eventually, Ona agreed to go to the counsellor as well. Ona wanted to get better. She wanted to get better for you.

When you first arrived in London, you were still very much a broken shell of your former self. But with time and love, you began to become whole again.

England had dreary skies and warm hugs.

England had frigid temperatures and proper roast dinners.

England had Lessi with her loud laughs and ever-present optimism.

England had Tooney with her constant jokes and sarcastic comments.

England had Mary with her quick come backs and gentle teasing.

England had Leah with her potato smilies and plain ham sandwiches.

England had Beth with her constant conversations and excitable nature.

England had helped heal your heart.

You had thought you would have felt dread or anxiety as the wheels touched down in Spain. But you hadn’t. You were surprisingly neutral. Walking back into the Barcelona training ground didn’t cause fear to strike you. You had daily chats with the psychologist, to begin with. She helped you work through your emotions, from everything from your first goal as a child to how you felt when the Doctors told you what happened in Australia. You spoke about the happy times with the Lionesses, your dark days when you had thought the lowest of yourself. Eventually, you spoke about Ona. You spoke about every emotion she had caused – happiness, sadness, anger, fear, overwhelming joy, love. You were encouraged to write a letter to her – although you didn’t have to send it.

Oni. Although I’m not sure I should call you that anymore.

I was encouraged to write this letter to you to process my emotions. So that’s what I’m doing.

You hurt me in ways I never imaged anyone could hurt me. What you said that day echoed what I already thought about myself so having you confirm it – even if you didn’t believe what you said – it really screwed with my mind. Whilst your actions caused me to spiral, I can’t blame you fully. I didn’t tell anyone. I kept my emotions bottled up. I am owning that much at least.

But I am still in love with you. I don’t think I’ll ever not be. The happiness and love I felt when you were around me was unlike anything I’ve ever felt with anyone before, or since. I would like to try again with you … maybe. I want what we had in Manchester. But with everything that has happened between us, I’m aware that can’t happen. As of right now, I want to at least start with a friendship. I want to start a fresh. So, I’m reintroducing myself.

Hola, I’m Y/N. I play defending midfield for Barcelona and England. I used to play for Manchester United. My favourite colour is purple, and I hate tomatoes. My favourite number is 17 and I prefer hot chocolate over coffee or tea. I prefer the summer over the winter, but I love when I can hear the rain on a window, especially if I’m warm in bed.

I was am hopelessly in love with a girl, and I think she loved loves me too, but I know that if I want to get back into a relationship, I need to work on myself first.

Forever yours, Y/N

Aaaa. So there will be a pt5. (and probably an epilogue type thing too). Hope you enjoyed it.

#woso community #woso x reader #ona batlle x reader #ona batlle #woso fanfics #lucy bronze #woso imagine #woso blurbs #barca femeni x reader #barca femeni #fc barcelona #manchester united #man utd #man utd women #lionesses #lionesses x reader #woso #woso soccer

[hana-no-seiiki]

Ohh I got soooo many ideas, like CV reader got kidnapped by black mask (I think it's red hood nemesis, am not that deep in DC comics but I know the basics) so he could have a deal or take information out of red hood using CV reader. And when Jason found out about it he was pissed but when he got there the bad guys already down because CV reader took them down.

P.s I don't mind if you use this as a reference to make a headcanon or story on contrary i would love to read it, but it's up to you!!

🎧ྀི » [ what a catastrophy ! ] «

0:00 ─〇───── 0:00

⇄ ◃◃ ⅠⅠ ▹▹ ↻

tw/cw: yandere, jason being horny/implied noncon, cat villain! reader being an absolute menace and a whore as always.

pairings: yan! batfam x cat villain/vigilante! reader

note: this happens after conflict between jason and other members of batfam are resolved and at that point cat villain! is more solidly on the cat vigilante! side

“How long is this going to take exactly? I’m about to take an involuntary cat nap with how utterly slow you all are being.”

The Court of Owls were a group of people you’ve absolutely despised on every era you’ve had under your cat mask. Whether it was your wild years as Cat Woman’s protégé or when you were basically assimilated as the Batfam’s shared s/o. You could never bring yourself to like absurdly rich people that well. Much less rich people who do bad things.

For legal and safety reasons, you have to say that the Batfamily are an exception.

You don’t know how on Earth they managed to get their hands on equipment that prevented your powers from working, but it was proving to be quite the annoying conundrum.

“I’m sorry but I’m feline a little too underwhelmed by this whole kidnapping thing. Why don’t we hurry things up a little?”

MEANWHILE . . .

“Where the hell did you take them?!”

Jason slammed Black Mask unto the wall, using the backside of his arm and pressing it against the man’s chest.

The latter’s men took a defensive, alert stance. Ready to pounce on command.

But Black Mask only gestured them to stand down.

“You have to understand, the fact that I even thought of informing you of my deal is a huge risk. I could lose my biggest benefactors.” He replied, calm and polite. In contrast to the harsh kick he deals to his assailant, making Jason back off. “I’m doing you all a favor. I’m doing [Cat Villain Name] a favor.”

“They’re currently on a private island to the south. I can’t give you the exact coordinates but here’s the general location.” He tossed a flashdrive, one swiftly caught and skimmed through by Tim.

“Why are you helping us?” Damian’s mind was already calculating the best way to get rid of everyone in this room. The grip on his katana tightening by the second. He had full faith that you were capable of taking care of yourself, but it did not help with the fear of disappearance whatsoever.

He was sure that the sight of you getting hurt would lead to him going on a rampage.

“Maybe the fact that even with my help, you kids being too late would open their mind and make them come back to our side. They’d finally learn that you’re only as good for them as Batman was to —“ Damian couldn’t stop himself anymore, knocking the man unconscious as the rest of the crew took down his goons with ease. Their worry over your current condition giving them a surprising amount of efficiency as a team.

“It’ll take several hours to even get to those islands much less even find which one . . .” Tim bit his lip. He wasn’t concerned at all. He knows you inside and out. In fact, he already knew where you were exactly. All of this info gathering was just his plan to delay things so that your patience would run out and he’d get front row seats to the carnage you’d inevitably cause. After all, there was something he can always predict when it came to you.

Your unending thirst for fun and chaos.

It took about a week for them to find you. Just about enough time for you to get antsy about not seeing your beloved pets and home.

And plenty of time for you to have your fun, pretending to be hurt, crying out in feigned agony, before you finally took down your prey.

“Red Hood! Come back! We can’t just barge in—“ Dick called out to Jason.

But all Jason could think of was the way you screamed in terror. The footage of your ‘torture’ was something he had nightmares about.

“Kitty! Are you—“ He kicked the door off its hinges, guns ready to fire.

But his sights only landed on a singular breathing being in the middle of a room. Covered in the blood of your victims. Grooming yourself clean.

Each lick sending shivers down his spine.

He sighed in relief. “You really have to stop playing with your food, Kitty.”

His lips envelopes yours as the world disappears from your vision.

୨ ©️ ୧⸝⸝﹕hana.no.seiiki - yun | 2024﹐⊂☁️⊃ ‹𝟹

#cat villain reader #yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere imagine #yandere fic #yandere core #batfam #batfam x reader #yandere batfam x reader #jason todd x reader #tim drake x reader #dick grayson x reader #damian wayne x reader #yandere jason todd x reader #jason todd #dick grayson #tim drake #damian wayne #yandere dick grayson x reader #yandere tim drake x reader #yandere damian wayne x reader #yandere nightwing #yandere red hood #yandere red robin #yandere robin #yandere nightwing x reader #yandere red hood x reader #yandere red robin x reader #yandere robin x reader

[masterofmunson]

promises, promises (2)

Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

Summary: Your boyfriend, Eddie Munson, accuses you of cheating on him due to your strange behavior. If only you could tell him you were hunting interdimensional monsters instead.

Word Count: 5.7k+ 

Warnings: language, drugs and alcohol mentioned, SMUT (18+, minors dni i’m serious), unprotected sex, oral (fem), p in v sex, fingering

Author’s Note: Here’s this monster of a part two! Again, thank you so much for all the love on the story so far. Please let me know what you think and please comment/reblog/send asks on content you read!

You wake up to the harsh sound of your doorbell ringing the next morning. Your parents must not be home to answer the door. You groan loudly and kick your comforter off your legs.

“I’m coming, I’m coming!” you shouted as you ran downstairs. You unlock the front door quickly and tear it open. You glare at the two teens standing at your doorstep. “What the hell guys?! Why are you ringing my doorbell like a maniac on a Saturday morning?”

Dustin and Max push past you and enter the foyer of your home. Both their eyes are wide with concern and Dustin begins to pace the length of the hallway. “Did you go see Eddie last night after dinner?” he asked, picking at his nails.

You shake your head. “No, why?”

The two teens share a tense look before Dustin walks further into your home. He squats down in front of the TV and turns it on. He flicks through the channels before it settles on Channel 9 News. The voice of Beverley Moss fills the family room. You watch with rapt intensity, your gaze focused on the background of the screen.

You notice Eddie’s trailer behind the reporter. You’ve been there more times than you could count. If you and Eddie weren’t going on dates or driving around in his van, you were at the trailer. Police move in and out of his home and sirens flash off screen.

Blood rushes to your head as you listen and watch the screen. A student was found dead in Eddie’s trailer. No other details are being released at this time. You feel like puking. Eddie would never hurt anyone. He talks a big game in order to keep from getting hurt. It was why he wore Eddie “The Freak” Munson as a badge of honor, but you know him.

You know Eddie better than he knows himself.  You know that his dad leaving and mom dying scarred him in ways you don’t understand. You know that despite the amazing relationship he has with his uncle, he fears Wayne will leave too. He’s insecure and hides behind his long, unruly hair and heavy metal music.

It’s why, upon further reflection, that you’re not surprised Eddie thought you were cheating on him. When you first started dating last summer it took a lot for Eddie to open up to you. You just graduated and were nannying full-time when you ran into Eddie at the local bookstore. He caught you browsing the Dungeons and Dragons display.

“I didn’t know the star soccer player of Hawkins High enjoyed the Devil’s Game,” he smirked, standing alongside you. You nearly jumped out of your skin and knocked a number of boxes over as a result.

You turned and glared at Eddie, clutching your chest. “Jesus Christ, Eddie!” you hissed. “You scared me. You can’t just come up to people like that! What if I hit you?”

He grinned, squatting down and helping you pick up the boxes you knocked over. “Sorry,” he laughed, fixing the boxes on the display before turning to you. “I saw you staring at the display for the last five minutes and came over to help. You look lost and as the Dungeon Master of Hellfire Club, it’s my duty and solum oath to guide those new on their D&D journeys.”

You laughed softly and tugged a loose strand of hair that had fallen out of your ponytail behind your ear. “I regret to inform you that I’m not looking for me. The girl I nanny is obsessed and her birthday is coming up. She’s been asking for more supplemental materials and I don’t know what I’m supposed to get,” you sighed, staring at the large display. “I should’ve brought her brother with me, but he can’t keep secrets.”

Eddie clapped his hands together before pointing out everything you should buy. In the end, you bought a set of new character sheets, dice, and an updated handbook on all the rules and procedures as of June 1985. You thanked him profusely as he walked with you to your car.

You always thought Eddie was attractive. Robin and Steve teased you for it, but they never made fun of you. You enjoyed his loud, theatrical rants during lunch period even if his rants targeted any of the groups you belonged to while you were in high school. Now, all of that was behind you. Your social reputation won’t suffer if you’re kind to Eddie Munson on a random Friday in a local parking lot.

“You’re not what I thought you’d be, Munson,” you teased lightly, leaning against the hood of your car. A bright smile and soft laugh cover your face.

Eddie gasps playfully and hides behind his hair. “What? Mean and scary?” he teased as you nodded in replied. “Who me? Never! I honestly didn’t think you knew who I was,” he said, twirling a strand of his hair between his ring-clad fingers.

“Eddie, c’mon,” you laughed shaking your head at him. “Just because we were in different social circles in high school doesn’t mean I didn’t know who you were. We’ve had several classes together since I was in 7th grade. We were paired together for Ms. Braun’s theater and arts project, remember?”

“How could I forget?! We aced it because of you!”

You rolled your eyes then and shake your head again. A beat of silence falls between the two of you and Eddie rocks back on his shoes. “Even though you were a jock, you were always nice to me, even when I probably didn’t deserve it. I thank you for that,” he murmured quietly with tinted cheeks. You grinned at his sudden shyness.

“Everyone deserves kindness, Eddie,” you replied with equal softness, “even the self-proclaimed freak of Hawkins High.”

You saw Eddie several times after that and always made sure to say hi. It wasn’t until after Starcourt that Eddie built up enough courage to ask you out on a date which you happily (and eagerly) accepted. You had to remind him that none of what happened in high school (while you were there) mattered to you anymore. Over time, Eddie was able to accept your warmth and affections without doubt pressing into his mind.

Eddie’s soft and gentle. Eddie is the epitome of warmth. He’s a perfect summer day: a light breeze with the bright sun shining down with no clouds in the sky. He always asks before he kisses you and takes every excuse to hold your hand. Eddie is the perfect gentleman. He would never hurt anyone. You couldn’t believe what you were seeing. You felt like fainting.

Dustin and Max grab you by the arms and carefully set you down on the sofa as you stare mindlessly at the TV. “I don’t…. I don’t understand,” you whispered. “What’s going on? Why is there a dead body in Eddie’s trailer? They don’t think Eddie has anything to do with this, right? He would never hurt anyone.”

Max mutters your name and you tear your eyes away from the screen to look at her. Tears threaten to spill over your cheeks and she gingerly takes your hand and squeezes it. “I saw Chrissy Cunningham walk into Eddie’s trailer last night,” she said.  

Your heart squeezes tightly at the mention of a prettier, more popular girl entering Eddie’s home. Did not saying anything in the first place solidify your relationship status? Did Eddie think you broke up with him so he was free to fuck whomever now? It made you sick just thinking about it.

If he did, he wasn’t the one to blame. You were. Eddie hadn’t technically cheated on you, if that were if fact the case. Your relationship was never complicated until a week ago, and now you might’ve messed up the best thing to happen to you.

“Have you told the cops?” you asked, pushing past the inner turmoil you feel.

“No.”

“Why?”

Max sighs and plays with her fingers. “After I saw them go into the trailer… something else happened. The TV went out and the lights flashed like crazy. At first, I thought it was nothing because it happens all the time, but then I saw Eddie’s face as he left. He was scared… really scared because… because…”

“Because something else killed her?” you finished quietly and she nods.

“Which is impossible, right?”

Your eyes meet Dustin’s and suddenly all the sleuthing and research and hiding out you’ve done over the last month starts to come to fruition. Your gut hadn’t been wrong. Something was happening in Hawkins, but you were too early. You had nothing to go on except the one lone nightmare you had. Now someone was dead. You should’ve done more, maybe if you had Chrissy wouldn’t be dead.

“I don’t know. The only person who knows what happened is Eddie. We have to find him before the police do. They’ll probably want to question me, so we have to hurry. Let me go get dressed and we can go,” you said, standing up from your spot on the couch.

You run upstairs and get dressed quickly. You dress in a pair of dark washed jeans, a loose, lilac t-shirt, and a blue windbreaker. Pulling your duffle bag out of your closet, you stuff one of the t-shirts Eddie gave you into the bag. You throw an extra toothbrush and travel sized toothpaste, deodorant, and shampoo in as well. You dig the nail bat out from the back of your closet and the walkie talkie that sat a top your dresser.  

Hurrying downstairs, you run into the kitchen and drop both the bag and the bat at the front door. You pull the box of Cheez-It’s from the shelf along with the box of Cheerios. You grab a handful of granola bars and water bottles before throwing them in a plastic bag.

“What are you doing?” Dustin asked from the kitchen counter.

“Gathering food for Eddie. He’s probably starving,” you said, swinging your bag over your shoulder and holding the bat by the stem. “Let’s go.”

Grabbing your keys and wallet from the table, you follow Dustin and Max out the front door. Locking it behind you, you jog to your car. Opening the trunk, you toss your duffle bag inside before climbing into the driver’s seat.

“Do you have any idea where Eddie might be?” Dustin asked as you drove down the street towards Family Video.

Your fingers tighten around the steering wheel. “No. He has to be somewhere no one knows about since the cops haven’t found him yet. We’re going to have to call all his friends to see if they have any idea where he might be.”

“Then why are we at Family Video?” Max asked as you parked the car.

“The store has more than one phone,” you answered exiting the car. You walk into the store and stand in front of the counter. You find Robin and Steve organizing VCR tapes. Dustin hurries in after you and jumps over the counter. Both your friends yell at the young teen.

“Listen, we need to use your phones to call all of Eddie’s friends,” Dustin said, typing away at the computer.

“Your new best friend, Eddie?” Steve asked petulantly, standing over his shoulder.

“What, is calling all of Eddie’s friends an emergency?” Robin bit back, fixing the pile of movies Dustin knocked over.

“Yes,” you answered for him.

Steve sighed your name and pinched the bridge of his nose. “You’re the last person I would expect to entertain Dustin’s ridiculous ideas. If it were any other day, it would be fine, but it’s Saturday!”

You sighed in return and fill your friends in with the information Max gave you and let her fill in when appropriate. You tell them how your monster hunting over the last month and a half hadn’t been in vain, you just had barely anything to go off of and now you did. You beg your two best friends to help you find your boyfriend and they both hesitantly agree.

You watch Dustin write down all the phone numbers of Eddie’s friends as Robin walks into the back off to grab the extra phone. You, Max, and Dustin spend the next hour calling his friends. Every person you called led to the same answer: no one knew where Eddie was.

You hung the phone up and groan in frustration. You lean against the counter and watch Max pace the small length of the counter as she talks on the phone before hanging up. “I think I have a lead. He maybe at Reefer Rick’s. The guy I talked to said Eddie goes there because Rick’s his supplier and he crashes there sometimes.”

No wonder you didn’t know where Eddie was. Eddie never told you where he got the drugs that he sold in Hawkins. He was more than happy to smoke with you, but that’s all he shared. He wouldn’t let you get involved even if you wanted to. He mentioned Reefer Rick once, but didn’t share any other details with you.

“Could we find his address if he had an account here?” You asked.

Robin shrugged, “Yeah, probably. We would be guessing which one he is based on the movies he rents.”

It takes five minutes to find the Rick you’re looking for. Rick’s house is just off the shore at Lover’s Lake. It’s the perfect place to hide. You run out of the store and return to your car. Robin locks the store behind her and the kids climb into your car while Robin goes to Steve’s car.

Pulling out of the parking lot, you sped down the street to the edge of town. Turning down Holland Road, you park in front of Rick’s house. The yard is unkept and weeds grow up the porch steps. Running towards the door, you pace along the porch as Dustin frantically rings the door bell and bangs on the door. Your heart beats wildly against your chest as you wait. You play with your fingers and bite the inside of your cheek.

“Hey, guys!” Max shouted from behind you.

You hurry over to her and stare at what she’s looking at. A boatshed stands just before the shoreline. A lone light is on over the shed door. You run down the slight hill and quickly push the door open. “Eddie?” you whispered into the shed as your friends yelled after you.

“Are you crazy?!” Steve hissed, grabbing you by the arm. “What if Eddie’s not here? We don’t know if this Reefer Rick guy is dangerous or not!”

“Oh, relax Steve,” you sighed with an eyeroll.

“Considering we’ve been close to dying about a hundred times, I rather not.”

You watch him grab an oar from the wall and poke at the inside of the boat in the center of the shed. You tiptoe around the rest of the shed, noticing a pile of junk food wrappers and empty beer bottles on a nearby table. Someone had been in the boatshed recently.

You move your flashlight around the rest of the room. Besides the trash on the table, there were no other signs that someone had been inside. You sigh dejectedly. If Eddie wasn’t here, where could he be?

There’s a sudden crash on the other side of the shed and you run around the dock to find Eddie pinning Steve against the wall of the shed with a broken piece of glass held against his neck. The four of you scream and Steve drops the oar.

“Eddie!” you shouted his name, pushing between the kids with your hands raised. “It’s me, honey. Everything’s okay.”

He turns his head at the sound of your voice. Eddie’s brown eyes are dark and wild, like he can’t believe you’re standing there. He blinks twice and the grip he has on the shred of glass tightens. It’s as if he thinks you’re a desert mirage, that you’re not actually standing in front of him. You wonder if Eddie thinks that his mind is playing tricks on him. He’s had a rough 24 hours and the last thing he needs is another bad thing happening to him.

“Baby,” you plea, taking another step towards him, “we’re here to help you, I’m here to help you. Please let Steve go.”

Eddie’s harsh breaths mix with the sound of soft waves hitting against the dock. He murmurs your name like he can’t believe it’s you standing in front of him in this beat up boatshed. He’s in utter disbelief. It’s like you’ve grown two heads with the way he looks at you.

His grip on Steve’s jacket loosens and he drops the shard of glass. You take two long strides to get to him and he nearly collapses in your embrace. His arms wrap protectively around your torso. Eddie sobs into your neck and clings to you. Your fingers gently card through his hair.

You could barely believe that you were hugging in this circumstance. You broke his heart a week ago and now Eddie was holding on to you like a boat to an anchor. Tears pool at the corners of your eyes as you held your broken boyfriend. You’ve only seen him like this one other time, and it was on the anniversary of his mother’s death. It scared you to think about.

“Eddie, it’s okay,” you whispered into his hairline, kissing the side of his head as you held back tears. “You’re okay. We’re here to help you, okay? Tell me what happened, baby.”

Eddie pulls away from the nape of your neck and holds your face in his hands as the two of you slowly fall to the floor. You brush your fingers through his hair and gently tuck it behind his ears before wiping the tears staining his cheeks. He swallows hard and shakes his head.

“You won’t believe me,” he cried.

Your chest physically aches at his reply and a few tears slip past. You hold his face delicately in your hands. “Try me, Eddie, please.”

His warm eyes search yours as he watches you take one of his hands and slips your fingers between his. You squeeze it gently and kiss the back of his hand. He lets out a shaky breath and relents. He tells you everything, his eyes never leaving yours.

Chrissy went to his trailer to buy drugs, and when he returned from his room to give them to her, she was floating in the air. Eddie described how her bones snapped in different directions and how her eyes were a soft white, void of any color. It was as if something was inside Chrissy’s head, pulling her apart from the inside out.

“I didn’t know what to do so I just… I ran away… I left her there,” he sniffed as he explained what happened.

There’s a beat of silence as you digest what happened. In the end, you were right. Something was going on in Hawkins, and Chrissy Cunningham just happened to be the first casualty. You tried to figure out what was going on, but you were too late, or rather, too early. You didn’t want anyone else to die because of the Upside Down, but it wasn’t possible. Chrissy wasn’t the only victim. Eddie was too. It broke your heart that Eddie felt he had to deal with it on his own.

“You must think I’m crazy,” he muttered, pulling away from you and looking out into the lake.

You shake your head vehemently and gently tug on his chin so he’s forced to look at you. “No, Eddie. I don’t think you’re crazy.”

“Don’t bullshit me! I know how this sounds!” he shouted as another wave of tears escape the corners of his eyes.

“We believe you, Eddie,” Robin murmured, taking a step closer to the two of you.

Dustin joins you on the floor and both you and Eddie turn to look at him. His voice is soft and gentle as he spoke. “What I’m about to tell you may be a little difficult to take…” there’s a soft pause before he continues.

Dustin tells Eddie everything about the Upside Down and the monsters that sneak through the dimension and plague Hawkins. He listens intently and doesn’t ask any questions. Eddie squeezes your hand tightly as the group listens. You don’t add anything. You’ll have time to tell the rest to him later.

When Dustin’s finished, Eddie looks to you. “Is this why you’ve been acting so weird lately?” he asked. “Because you’ve been hunting monsters and shit? Not because you’re cheating on me?”

You can’t help but laugh. Out of all the questions you thought he would ask, that wasn’t one of them. You wipe away the last of your tears and nod. “Yeah, this is why I’ve been acting so weird,” you confirmed with a small smile.

Eddie pulls you into his chest for another tight hug. You take a deep breath and breathe him in. He still smelled the same: hints of a warm, deep musk with remnants of the weed he smokes no matter how old it is. His fingers squeeze the fabric of your windbreaker and you feel a soft kiss to the side of your head.

He helps you to your feet and you watch your friends head to the door. Dustin turns around expectantly, waiting for you to join them.

“You should go,” he muttered quietly. “Come back in the morning.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” you said, turning to meet his gaze. “I’m not leaving you. I’ll leave when they come back tomorrow.”

Eddie sighs and wraps his arms around you, pressing a gentle kiss to your neck.

“I have stuff in my trunk for you,” you said after a beat of silence as you watched your friends climb up the small hill to the street. “Can you figure out how to get into the house while I go grab it?”

He nods against your skin and leaves another kiss.

You hurry out of the boatshed and run up to your car. Unlocking it quickly, you open the trunk and grab your duffle bag and nail bat. You lock the car again before running to the back porch of the house where Eddie was waiting with the door unlocked.

Eddie pushes the door open just enough for you to slip inside before following behind you. He’s quick to lock the door as you pull the blinds shut and curtains closed for good measure. Eddie takes your hand and drags you along to the master bedroom.

Eddie turns on the bedside lamp and soft light fills the room. To your surprise, the room is nice and clean. The bed is made and the floor is clear. No one had been in the room for a while.

Dropping your bag to the floor, you open it up and grab the toiletries you packed for Eddie. “Do you want to take a shower and brush your teeth?” you asked as you watched him plop down on the bed.

He nods slowly and you take the toiletries inside the bathroom and turn the light on. Eddie trails behind you and stands in front of the bathroom counter as you hand him the toothbrush and toothpaste you brought for him. Eddie brushes his teeth wordlessly as you set the shampoo and bodywash you brought inside the shower.

“Will you… will you shower with me?” Eddie whispered as you turned on the shower. You turn to look at him and a light pink dusts his cheeks. “I just don’t want to be alone.”

Your heart breaks at his admission. Although Eddie hasn’t seen you naked yet, you’re more than happy to appease him. Eddie needs you. He’s needed you for a while. The emotional distance you caused put a strain on your relationship. You don’t want it to happen again.

“Of course, Eds,” you whispered.

Eddie undresses slowly as you do the same. You tug your windbreaker off and toss it in the corner along with the rest of your clothes. You step into the shower after Eddie and the warm water cascades down your back.

You don’t have it in you to feel shy or embarrassed that Eddie’s seeing you naked for the first time. He needs you and you’re more than happy to oblige.

Eddie’s hands settle on your bare hips. His wet hair covers his face and you gently pull it away from his eyes. The sound of your soft breaths mixes with the water as you stare at each other. Eddie’s fingers trail up your body and brush against the scarred flesh along your arm and shoulder. Despite the warmth the water provides, goosebumps litter your skin at his gentle touch.

“What happened here?” Eddie asked, staring at the raised flesh on your body. It makes you shiver as you reach for the shampoo and squeeze some into your hand. You reach up and gently lather the soap into Eddie’s hair.

“One of the monsters got to me last summer,” you answered with equal softness as you scratched at his scalp. “It was heading towards Steve and I pushed him out of the way. The monster’s teeth tore through my flesh and left me with this.”

“Is this why we haven’t had sex yet? Were you scared that I would judge you for something out of your control?”

Your silence is deafening and Eddie frowns. He reaches to hold your face in his hands while yours rest against his chest. Tears pool at the corners of your eyes and you let out a soft sigh. “It’s not that I was scared you would judge me because of the scars. I was scared you would look at me differently. They’re ugly and—”

“Hey, don’t say that,” he chastised quietly, tugging your chin up so you’re forced to look at him. “They’re not ugly. They’re a part of you and I love you, every piece of you.”

Your heart jumps inside your throat. Eddie loves you. Eddie loves you. The man you love loves you back, even after everything you put him through. You’re going to burst and your eyes search his. Eddie’s eyes widen at his admission and he starts to stutter an apology when you gently press a finger to his lips.

“I love you too, Eddie,” you whispered. “I’ve been dying to tell you for a while now.”

Eddie grins and the warmth in his eyes returns. His nose brushes against yours. “Can I kiss you?”

You nod eagerly and Eddie presses his mouth to yours. You smile into the kiss and his lips kiss your teeth. The warm water fills the space between you and Eddie carefully presses you into the shower wall. Your fingers thread through his hair and a breathy sigh escapes your throat as Eddie kissed along the column of your throat down to your shoulder where the scarring began. He kissed and nibbled his way across your skin as you sighed again and again.

Your fingers squeeze his chest as his hands trailed down your torso and settled on your ass.

“Eddie,” you murmured. He pulls away and stares at you. His lips are flushed and his face is a warm pink from kissing you. You gently hold his face in your hands and brush his wet hair out of his face. “I want to apologize. I’m sorry for being distant and not telling you the truth. I never want to make you feel like that again. I love you and I hope you can forgive me.”

Eddie grins and presses another kiss to your mouth. “Of course, I forgive you, sweetheart. Now I understand why. We’re okay, I promise. Can I go back to kissing you?”

Your laugh echoes in the shower and you grin. “I was thinking we could move this to the bedroom?”

Eddie’s eyes widen and his face grows an even deeper shade of pink. “Are you… are you sure? We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do. I don’t want to pressure you into doing anything if you’re not ready.”

“I’m sure, Eddie. I trust you. I’ll tell you if I want you to stop, okay?”

Eddie nods eagerly and turns off the shower. He steps out and takes you by the hand. Eddie reaches for a towel and is quick to dry himself off before handing it off to you. It makes you laugh with how eager he is.

When you’re done drying off, Eddie drags you into the bedroom. You climb to the top of the bed and Eddie’s quick to join you. He grins and kisses you hard into the mattress. His bare chest rubs up against yours and a soft moan leaves your throat. Eddie groans into your mouth.

“So pretty, baby,” he uttered into your mouth. It makes you tingle with want and desire. Eddie pulls away and drags his mouth down your body. His fingers play with your nipples before his mouth wraps around your left breast. He nips and sucks and it makes you dizzy. “I could do this all night. Your tits are perfect.”

You moan again and grab at his damp curls. Eddie laughs against your skin as he slides further and further down your body. Your breath quickens and your heart beats wildly against your chest at the feeling of Eddie’s hands between your thighs. His fingers run along the length of your thighs to your knees and back up again.

“Eddie,” you sighed blissfully, “please.”

He chuckles into your skin and kisses the inside of your thigh before teasing his fingers around your folds. Your hips jerk up and Eddie kisses your knee. He pressed his thumb against your clit, gathering your slick between his fingers. “Is this what you wanted, baby?” he smirked, slipping a finger inside you.

“More, I need more,” you begged.  

Eddie gently places your legs over his shoulders and your knees squeeze his head. Eddie laughs again and pulls your thighs apart. “You’re soaked and I’ve barely touched you,” he murmured, sinking his tongue between your folds.

A scream rips past your throat as Eddie laps at your center. His ring clad fingers dig into your hips and pin you to the bed. Your fingers card through his hair and tug harshly. His nose brushes against your clit and you squeeze your eyes shut. He laps greedily at your center, kissing and sucking every inch his mouth could reach. It sends jolts of pleasure through your entire body.

Eddie slips a finger inside of you, the cool metal of his rings brush against your folds as he fingers you. You cry out and tighten your grip in his hair again. Your body is on fire. White, hot pleasure runs through you as the coil in your stomach grows tighter and tighter.

“Eddie, I’m—” you cried desperately, bucking your hips to meet his mouth and the strokes of his fingers.

“I got you, baby,” he muttered into your skin, “let go.”  

You cum with a cry of his name as he coaxes you through your orgasm. Your legs shake as you come down from your high. You pant hard as Eddie laps up your juices before pulling away and climbing up to kiss you. You hold the side of his face as you taste yourself on his tongue. His mouth slips inside yours and swallows your moans.

“Think you can go again?” he whispered into your mouth before biting your neck. His teeth are gentle as he leaves a warm hickie in his wake.

You nod. “Yeah, yeah, I can. I can go again,” you answered quietly.

Eddie grins against your hot skin before kneeling back on his legs. Your fingers brush against the tattoo against his chest and the necklace hanging from his neck. Eddie pulls your hips closer and carefully takes himself in his hand and lines up at your entrance.  

He pushes in slowly and it has you gasping and squeezing his shoulder. Eddie’s thick and fills you to the brim until he bottoms out. He doesn’t move for several, long, antagonizing seconds. You feel your heart in your throat with ever twitch beneath you.

“You’re so tight, sweet girl,” he moaned in your ear, leaning back before slowly pushing back in. His hand wraps your leg around his waist and he presses further into you. Eddie takes your free hand and slips his fingers through yours. You squeeze his hand tightly and let out a soft moan. You clench around him and he groans.  

“Faster, Eddie,” you moaned. “Please, go faster.”

His warm laughter fills the already hot room. Eddie captures your lips in a kiss and whispers against your mouth, “Only because you asked so nicely.”

Eddie’s thrusts grow fast and deep. With your legs wrapped around him, he hits the furthest part of you. You scream and beg and moan Eddie’s name. The same white-hot pleasure you felt before returns with equal intensity. Eddie’s skilled fingers toy with your clit with every thrust. Eddie’s lips find yours as he swallows each moan and gasp from your lips. He buries his face into the crease of your neck and sucks a number of hickies into your throat.

“You almost there, baby?” he panted as his thrusts began to grow sloppy as he neared his peak. You nod into his neck and Eddie’s fingers play with your folds.

You scream Eddie’s name and your back arches off the bed as you cum. Eddie grunts your name and guides you through your own orgasm before pulling out and releasing on your stomach. Eddie collapses on your chest and your fingers rub up and down his back as you catch your breath.

Eddie gently turns your head and kisses you sweetly before climbing out of bed and scurrying to the bathroom. He hurries back with a wet cloth and wordlessly cleans the mess he made on your stomach and thighs before using it on himself. Tossing it on the floor, he climbs back into bed and pulls you against his chest. You turn to face him and rest a hand on his face, brushing his hair out of his eyes.

“We’ll figure this out together, okay?” you whispered, kissing him gently.

“I know,” he said, holding your hand in his as he fell into a restless sleep with you by his side.  

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson imagines #eddie x reader #eddie imagine #eddie imagines #stranger things #stranger things x reader #stranger things imagine #stranger things imagines #my writing

[daemonmage]

A Stupid Batfam AU

Jason’s and Bruce’s rocky relationship is actually a pr move to make sure the rest of the batfam doesn’t get attacked by reporters and gcpd.

Essentially Red Hood, while liked by the Crime Alley citizens and other citizens as well, has a pretty bad reputation with a lot of the rest of the city. The GCPD hate him for his overt violence and the head incident. The Media hates him cause he’s what they all feared Batman would become and are constantly creating news stories on him. A lot of the other citizens are just scared of him cause sometimes his temper gets out of control. It’s not the best reputation.

Bruce and Jason have long since talked and settled their differences. Well, it’s more of a “I don’t approve of your methods but I will acknowledge you as a person who wants to help, but I will still dislike the guns. Also I missed you” from Bruce and “I’m not happy with a lot of your decisions but I also understand why you came to those decisions. I’m still mad but I now know that you missed me and I missed you too” from Jason. They’re better than they were originally and honestly that’s all they could hope for. Jason visits the manor more and is having fun being brothers to Dick and Tim.

Here’s the thing though… his reputation as Red Hood may have accidentally spread to the other Bats. A few team ups here and there (and the red bat on his chest) have made everyone assume that Batman is now working with Red Hood, a known crime lord. The media and GCPD were on them like flies on shit. Jim tries to calm down the gcpd with mixed results, but he can’t stop the media from blowing this out of proportion. It’s like the news channels from Dark Knight Returns, but worse.

Jason, who just got his family back, is fucking pissed. Jason is also dramatic as hell. Bruce was willing to just deal with this, but Tim is too new at this to be caught in the crossfire. Bruce was just gonna bench him out of fear until things calm down (he’s dealt with this before) but Jason brings up his plan to Bruce. Bruce isn’t as dramatic as Jason, however he is still absolutely dramatic. He agrees. So begins an epic fight between two ideals that ends two vigilantes at each other’s throats constantly.

Red Hood and Batman fight any time they are together, Red Hood is arrested by Batman on multiple occasions, and Red Hood always escapes leaving terrifying threats spray painted where the bat can see. (Jason and Bruce give each others shit for the pot shots they take and Bruce compliments Jason’s form when he gets a good hit in, Bruce gives Jason a heads up to the easier ways to get out of a police car and Jason ignores him going for the most dramatic ways, Bruce complains that the code Jason uses for his threats are obvious and he can just ask Alfred himself for cookies, why does Bruce have to be the middle man.)

The super hero community doesn’t really know this (cause they can be pretty bad actors at times, says Bruce) tis can cause problems. Superman and Green Arrow capturing Red Hood. Batman had to pull the “he’s Gotham’s problem give him to me,” which led to a hour of arguing to get Jason back. Tim’s friend have Red Hood on their hit list for what Hood did to Robin (Tim is over it but he does use this as a way to get back at his brother when he pisses him off) and Red Hood has to be on the Villain List to sell the act, so every hero ever knows the Red Hood is a villain. This leads to chaos.

There are still rough moments where Bruce and Jason still fight, but it’s better. Jason gets to hang out and play games with Tim. He plans overly dramatic fights with Dick (with full plot cause these two are so extra.) He helps Alfred in the kitchen again talking about books they’ve both read. He and Bruce talk again, they talk about their fears and what they’ve missed. It’s better, and that’s all that really matters.

#batman #batfam #red hood #jason todd #bruce wayne #batfam au #stupid au #dick grayson #nightwing #robin #tim drake #batfamily #this is so dumb #but its been in my head so now it here #I already have stuff for Tim and Dick specifically #which includes #teen titans

[goldenhickeysandramen]

Evolution of their narrative

I admit it. I also get confused as to what kind of couple Tae& Koo is supposed to be to their shippers.

When I first joined the fandom they were the “hidden couple”, and jikook was “fan service”, cause is what the masses demanded from BH/Bang PD.

It didn't take me long to realise that the "masses" in this fandom are actually the taek00kers (humaluvre is bigger than the majority of the most famous JK's focus accs) … So I've never really understood who the masses-asking-massively-for-"jikook"-content were 🤷‍♀️

Then, I read them that the big proof that taek00k was real was, precisely, that they couldn’t do all the things that jikook could do so well (you know, travel together only the two of them, stare at each other in rapt attention, sucking ears and necks, treat each other as a married couple, support each other to the fullest, holding hands whenever they have the opportunity…). The reason of them not doing all of these things was South Korea, since it is an homophobic country.

That’s why the company edited the content and didn't let them interact. It was all cuts and so on. Everything they did was private, and that's why there was no evidence, other than some witnesses of people with telescopic sight and facial recognition (maybe they were androids?)

I had more or less understood the narrative, until the LOVEGRAM era started, and that's when it all blew over!

Their insta accounts were no longer professional accounts (like twitter or weverse), but personal… and from then on, their selfies were some short of engagement pics or couple confirmation and their funny comments about boxing hooks were actually whipped messages of love.

Btw it seems South Korea was no longer homophobic at that time.

INSTAGRAM WAS THE LAW

When JK closed his Instagram account (forced by the company 😌) we were already in chapter 2. The lovegram didn't matter anymore…because Jungkook hanging out sometimes with Tae and wooga became the confirmation of what Instagram -in reality- failed to confirm. Never mind that their hanging out concentrated during some months when they both had more free time or that they actually just did what good friends do: having fun at the movies, bowling or skiing together with other friends… but hey, those tiny details don't matter in the great love story that is told.

And from there we move on to the part where the CHAOS really started, when the COMPANION SYSTEM news dropped

And guess what? Korea became homophobic again

Some said that they were forced to part ways (the company, the government, themselves because they wouldn't last a second without f?….). Gays dont enlist together they said.

Another line of argument was that Jimin had asked JK to enlist with him… I guess because he was going to be terrible at the military. LOL

But we all can sense that the most extended opinion was "I can't understand this plot twist for shit".

(Maybe the problem is they never understood their favs but that’s for another post)

And in the midst of CHAOS it was no longer possible to think of a new narrative...that's why the strategy became "attack". If they can't prove that their favourites are a couple, they'll go and debunk the rest.

At this point they don’t seem to care if ta3k00k is real or not… they simply choose not to surrender and ignore some facts. If they freaking ignored Jennie during a year, they will do the same with jikook being glued for 18 months.

So in the next months, we'll probably see part of fandom (solos and tkkers) attacking jikookers, and another part trying to ignore us. I fear the chaos will continue… pretty sure some toxic ones will watch the travel show just to diss jikook..

But we shouldn’t care too much because as we have seen, Jimin and Jungkook will never stop taking their decisions and behaving with authenticity

The boys have chosen their own path this year, not to please the majority of their fandom (jikookers are not the mass), but because they wanted to.

At the end of the day, they care about their fans, but we don’t own their lifes and they have shown us. And I applaud 👏 them

And yes, maybe their country and the careers they have chosen dont allow them to be fully free…. but they dont prevent them to stay one next to the other. They know how to choose the battles worth fighting for.

Don't you think it's beautiful and says a lot about the quality of love and respect that Jimin and Jungkook have for each other?

I think so

"standing in the fire next to you"

💜💛

#kookmin #jikook #jikook kookmin #mingguk #jimin and jungkook #jikook kookmin jinkook jiminshiii jk #minkook #mingukkie

[lady-ashfade]

Hi! How about Yandere! Frankenstein's monster? Maybe Reader was the doctor's younger sibling?

—£ Yandere!Male!Frankenstein x gn!teen!reader( platonic pairing)

—£ thank you for being my first question for the new thing I’m trying out! Forgive me because I haven’t listened to the story in ages, but lets go on a New Journey together?

—£ warning: yandere behavior, stalking, making up my own story, over all just wholesome

You weren’t supposed to be at his house. This was no place for a child but you had been forced to stay with him.

Your older brother never liked you much and found you annoying. So much younger, so small minded.

So when you moved in his house you could only go a few places, your room, the kitchen and the living room.

So you payed mind to your own things other then him which was great because he didn’t pay any attention to you anyway.

You hated the basement and you’ve never go in there. Your brother would disappear in there for hours and you couldn’t hear anything. It freaked you out. He was odd.

Which is why you should have stayed away from the banging on the door. It was loud and heavy like a large beast was clawing at the door. And deep groaning of what you think was a man scared you.

But it sounded scared and pleading and your heart couldn’t handle it. But with your luck it would be a bear or a wolf, something angered probably by your brother.

Though, you didn’t expect to find a man about five times your size- If you could call him a man. His skin was green with stitches in his skin and bolts around his neck.

He was no man.

He saw you look at him with fear as you stepped back, “Holy-” one wrong move and your death could be near.

He mumbled words but you couldn’t understand anything. He was trying to speak but clearly couldn’t.

He made no fast movements towards you. His eyes wide and you notice that look in his eyes. Fear.

He was scared of you? Why would be be scared of a young teen?

“Uhh…Are you okay?” He didn’t seem to understand you either.

So you showed him he had nothing to fear but the two of you were still worry about each other. But you came around.

He likes it when you smiled at him. You didn’t shout at him, you didn’t hurt him. You were nice.

I think he would think about you often after that. When the doctor came home you told him you found the man in the basement.

“You have been keeping him in the basements this whole time? What is wrong with you?”

Now your brother didn’t want to hurt you. But you forced your way into things that weren’t yours to know. But he agreed to let you see him a few times, though it was only a experiment.

And each time he would acted like a child when he saw you. Happy to see you, and like listening to you speak.

Which is why you read to him each time you saw him. He loved it. Brought him small things so he could be entertained when you were away.

Then he was able to go out into the world. Only with you. He walked behind you while you went to school, something your brother told him to do but he didn’t mind. Even if you didn’t know he was there.

He’d protect you any chance you got. Finding the boys who picked on you and gave them nightmares if he didn’t end up killing them. Or somehow hurting the girls as well, like cutting their hair or making them trip around the neighborhood.

“You know, one day I’m going to take you and move to Hollywood.” You said while looking into the magazine in your hand, “Don’t you think I’d be perfect on stage?” He mumble in agreement.

He’d get rid of your brother one day, chock him to death. And kill anyone he needed to make your dreams come true.

“My sibling.” But his words only came out in muffled and groans. You sometimes didn’t know what he was saying but you didn’t mind.

#yandere oc x reader #yandere x reader #yandere concept #yandere Frankenstein #yandere Frankenstein x reader #Frankenstein x reader #platonic x reader #platonic yandere #yandere headcanons

[slayingfiction]

Questions to ask your alpha/beta readers

I thought I would put together a master list of all the questions to ask your alpha and beta reader to help you improve your story.

You can choose to ask questions every chapter, every few chapters or after the whole book. This list of questions will be more generic and all encompassing for you to tailor to your needs.

Reminder: Beta readers typically receive a completed and polished version of your story. They give feedback on any last improvements based on the reader’s perspective. Alpha readers read your story or manuscript before it’s completed, usually a rough draft. Alpha readers are best if they also have some writing experience to give reader and writer feedback.

Choose some of the following questions to ask your readers:

Start:

When did you first feel the story was truly starting?

Do you like how the story started? If not, why?

Do you find characters were introduced slow enough to learn them all?

Did you find settings, different languages, and cultural differences were introduced slowly enough to not be confusing or overwhelming?

Were there any moments you found yourself going back over old exposition just to understand what was happening?

When, if at all, did you find yourself being pulled into the book?

Did the first sentence grab your attention?

Did the first few pages draw you into the story?

Did you find the opening paragraph/page interesting enough to continue reading?

Characters:

What do you like about the MC? What don’t you like? Can you name at least one relatable trait between yourself and the MC?

How did you feel about the character(s)’s growth from the start to finish of the story? Did you find there was enough? Was it believable?

Are the MC’s motivations and goals clear and strong enough?

Did you feel the MC’s fears, hopes, excitement, passions, etc.?

Did you get confused between the characters?

Were the characters believable?

Are there any characters you wish were more interesting? Why and how?

Do you feel each supporting character had their own motivations and contributed to the plot?

Are there any characters that seem cliché, underdeveloped, or stereotypical? If so, why?

Were the character relationships believable?

Did the romantic relationships build naturally, or did it feel forced?

Are there any character names that were too difficult to read or sounded too similar to others?

Were there any parts where the characters seemed to be acting out of character?

Who was your favorite character?

Which character, if any, did you wish was more present?

Which character do you care for the least?

What are your thoughts/feelings on the MC’s character arc?

Do you feel like the antagonists and/or villain is just as fleshed out and relatable as the MC?

If you had to remove one character, who would it be, and why?

Which character would you like to meet, and why?

Did you hope or dread any character relationships?

Are there any characters you found annoying and frustrating?

What are your general thoughts and feelings about the MC or supporting characters?

Which character did you find least developed?

Plot:

Which moments in the book did you find the most suspenseful?

Were there any moments in the book you found boring, lagging, or uneventful and unnecessary?

Did you find the pacing to suit the story well? Are there any areas you found moved too fast or too slow?

Was there ever a time you felt like you weren’t excited or intrigued enough to want to continue?

Did you find any plot holes? Any discrepancies in timeline, characters, descriptions, or other details?

Were there any scenes you found did not further the plot at all?

Are there any scenes or events you found to be too long or too short?

Did you find all explanations and revelations came out naturally and at appropriate times?

What was your favourite scene in the book? Why?

What was your least favourite scene in the book? Why?

Are there any chapters you found lacked conflict?

Did the action scenes make sense as you read them? Did you understand how they came to that action scene (or did they feel random)?

Where there any moments or scenes that made you feel emotional? Happy, sad, cringy and disgusted, etc.

Do you find the plot moved logically and naturally between scenes and chapters?

Are there any moments you felt detached or pulled out of the story? When and why?

Are there any events or scenes you found confusing? Either what was happening or how the characters came to that point?

Where you surprised by the plot twist?

Settings:

Which setting in the book was the clearest for you to visualize? Which do you remember the best?

Did you find the setting interesting, with vivid and real description?

Were there any scenes you thought lacked description?

Were there any moments you thought there was too much exposition, or not enough?

Did you find there were moments you didn’t know where the characters were unless stated?

Do you find the culture and historical events are realistic and add depth to the story?

Is there any exposition you found unnecessary? Are there any moments you wish you had more exposition?

Did all technology and science, or magic, make sense or seem believable?

Was there ever too much or too little description?

Dialogue:

Did you find that each character had their own personal voice when speaking?

Are there times where you couldn’t figure out who was talking solely based on how they spoke?

Is there any dialogue that sounded unnatural?

Could you see what the characters were doing and where they were while talking?

Was there any dialogue that seemed to not fit well with the story?

Was there any dialogue that you thought had too much exposition or explanation?

Did you find the dialogue kept your interest?

Ending:

Did you find the ending to be satisfying and emotionally fulfilling?

Are there any questions you had left after the story ended? (Mostly for stand-alone)

What did you hate most about the ending?

Did you find the ending believable?

Did you feel the tension building to the climax?

Was the climax worth the read, or did it feel weak?

Do you feel the ending came on naturally, or did it feel forced or rushed?

Did the book feel too short or too long?

General:

Were there parts where you found yourself skimming?

Which parts of the story did you find it easy to put the book down?

At what moment did you decide you wanted to finish the book? (If not DNF)

What are some of your favourite lines/quotes from the book?

Do you have any predictions for what you think will come next? (Good for chapters or end of book)

Is there something you hope will happen?

Is there anything you hoped would happen and was sad when it didn’t?

Did you find the map and glossary helpful? Is there anything you think would be beneficial to add, such as terms or names?

Are there any moments or scenes you found ethically and socially problematic and unacceptable.

Were there any moments in the story that made you stop and think?

Were you able to identify the story themes? Did you find the themes well developed throughout the story?

Did you think about the story when you weren’t reading it? If so, what were your thoughts?

Were there times during the story where you felt description was told instead of shown?

Does this book make you feel the same as other books in the genre when reading?

Is there anything you really enjoy from this genre that you found lacking in this story?

Did you find the story kept your attention with enough action, conflict, intrigue, and tension?

Do you find the story or writing style like other books you have read?

Are there any moments you found confusing, irritating, annoying or frustrating?

Are there any moments in the story you thought, “this could/would never happen”?

Did you have any questions after reading the book?

What are your general thoughts and feelings about the story?

Is there anything you wish there was more or less of?

What do you think were the best/ strongest aspects of this book?

What do you think were the worst/ weakest aspects of this books?

How would you describe this book to a friend?

Would you recommend this story to someone?

How likely/ eager are you to read the next book in the series?

Chapter specific

On a scale from 1-5, how much did you enjoy this chapter?

On a scale from 1-5, how eager are you to read the next chapter?

What predictions do you have for the next chapter?

What do you hope will happen next?

Please keeping in mind: Don't let another writer tell you what to change or how they would write it. You are the writer, and any changes are your decision. This feedback is only to give you an idea on which areas to improve.

*Alpha and Beta readers should be readers in the same genre that you write. People who mostly read mystery will not be good a/b readers for a romance novelist, or any mismatch. If you write romance, find a/b readers who love to read romance. Otherwise, any advice they give may not be as valuable or useful as you hope.*

If you have other questions you think would be useful to ask your readers, message me or add them in the comments so our list is comprehensive.

Happy Writing!

#writing community #writing advice #beta reader #alpha reader #writing reference #long post #creative writing #tumblr writers #writing tips #writer #female writers #wip stuff #writblr #fiction #writing process

[artist-issues]

I’m going to say it.

I don’t think How to Train Your Dragon 3 was good.

Not when you compare it to literally either of the other movies. Certainly not as a conclusion.

I mean, the first movie was about a boy who manages to understand a hostile dragon species and bring peace to two warring factions, which is a parallel for his relationship with his father. The second film was about how sometimes, peace has to be fought for, and Hiccup’s whole identity was in contrast with that—because while his mother ran from conflict and his father leapt at it too eagerly, he had always been the one to stop the fighting. Then he has to learn that the things we love are worth protecting. 

And after he learns that humans and dragons can learn to understand each other and coexist—after he learns that it isn’t enough to run and hide or fight out of fear, but instead you must protect the things you care about—

After those two natural, powerful progressions are clearly worked for in the first two movies—

How to Train Your Dragon 3 comes along and says “‘No actually, sometimes all it takes is one madman whom you defeated with no loss of life to convince you that the things you care about should just crawl into a very pretty hiding hole, because you don’t feel like spending the rest of your life fighting for them.”

And I can say more. Below the break. 

Because I’ve waited a long time to talk about this. Everybody around me was saying that the third HTTYD movie was sooo good, how could I not love it, what was my problem, they’re crying in the theater seats around me, they’re all moved, but nobody can tell me why. What makes HTTYD3 so good, STORY WISE? What makes the fact that Toothless, who is established as “Hiccup’s Other Half” and his character’s support, leaving, a good conclusion?

And it’s not just that my feelings were hurt at the idea of this iconic duo being split up in the finale. 

It just doesn’t make any sense. Because the main thing that the whole series was built around was the adversity Hiccup and Toothless were always going to come up against, because they shouldn’t be friends. The whole first movie is like “dragons and Vikings hate and kill each other, there’s no way to get over this fear, nobody can be around Night Furies without dying,” and Hiccup and Toothless literally fly in the face of that. Then the whole second movie is “dragons either have to be left completely alone to themselves and their ways in the wild apart from man, or they have to be brutally enslaved as war machines under man’s boot” and then Hiccup and Toothless fly in the face of that. They stick together as their own, unique partnership, and it changes the world in HTTYD and in HTTYD2.

And then in the third movie, boom, Toothless suddenly doesn’t belong with Hiccup anymore? Suddenly it’s essential that he live completely separate, alone with “his own kind?” Suddenly it’s too hard and too dangerous to protect this dragon-Viking way of life that the whole first and second movie worked for?

I mean. They even abandon Berk. They fought so hard for Berk throughout three television series and two excellent movies. 

And I get it. The idea is that, they left Berk because Berk is a people, so no matter where they go Berk is still alive, just like no matter where Toothless goes, his friendship with Hiccup is “still alive.” And that’s a fine theme, I guess, except it totally makes the first two movies seem worthless. It makes Hiccup’s mom seem right for abandoning her family and giving up on the idea that humans and dragons could ever live peacefully. According to HTTYD3, Hiccup and Toothless never should have interacted again after he cut Toothless free of the net. Because Toothless should’ve just…gone on to live with his own kind.

Oh except he couldn’t, because Hiccup knocked his tail fin off and Toothless needed Hiccup. Just like Hiccup was weird and innovative in a time of traditional brutish Vikings, and he, in his own way needed Toothless. So they couldn’t live among their own kind without one another. 

And I see that HTTYD3 is trying to say “‘yes, they needed each other, but now they’ve grown up and the only thing left to learn is how to let go and move on.” But you know what, if you were going to tell me that, you shouldn’t have made the driving motivation for these characters to leave one another: “too many bad guys keep inevitably attacking us.”

You also shouldn’t have made the secondary driving motivation: “Toothless likes a pretty girl dragon and he can’t be with her and be with Hiccup because she’s Too Wild.™” Because guess what? The other thing that all of the previous canon content set up was that Hiccup can basically tame and befriend any wild dragon.

There are very few dragons, even in the TV show, that he cannot make friends with and live side-by-side with, and the ones that existed were basically just big, angry killing machines who presented themselves as way more threatening in mannerisms than the Light Fury does in the third movie. The Red Death eats other dragons; the Light Fury warns other dragons of traps. The Skrill tries to lightning-fry every human around it; the Light Fury only ever plasma blasts at humans that surprise her while she’s actively snooping around their camp.

I am willing to buy a story where a dragon needs to be free of his human master if he wants to have a future with his own kind, but you can’t do that if the dragon in the story is Toothless and the master in the story is Hiccup. Because those characters’ relationship was established as the future of their kind. Viking’s way forward was dragons—dragons’ way forward was Vikings. 

And that brings up another bone of contention with me—the first reason for the finale split-up—what made Grimmel so terrifying that it convinced Hiccup to uproot his whole tribe from their ancestral home and eventually give up on fighting for his dragon/Viking way of life, and Toothless himself? Was it that Grimmel was a better strategist than Hiccup? Because Grimmel lost and died, so there’s no reason for that to remain the reason. Was it because Viggo had a whole army of people that were slapped together to hastily represent “the rest of the world” and a bunch of dragons—again, DRAGONS, Hiccup’s specialty—to attack them with? Because again, all of them lost. And Berk sacrificed nothing in the process, unless you count, like…stress.

And DON’T give me any crap about the epilogue. Don’t tell me “‘Oh, OP, you totally ignored the part at the end where Toothless and Hiccup’s new families visit each other, they’re not gone forever, they’re just Friends From Afar, living at peace, protecting the peace by staying apart.”

That is 1) a terrible cowardly step back from any emotional impact that the big goodbye and sense of sacrifice that living apart from each other should have given the audience, and 2) still doesn’t negate the fact that Hiccup and Toothless WERE fighting for their way of life, which was living together, since movie 1, and the fact is whether they visit each other or not they still don’t get to have that anymore. For no good reason. I could say more. I could talk about how silly I think a lot of the Light Fury plot is, how poorly set-up the Hidden World was as a conclusion piece, blah blah blah. But instead, I’ll just leave this quote from the end of How to Train Your Dragon 2, and you tell me how the logical conclusion to this quote was “let’s abandon our home and stuff our dragons in a hiding-hole because the enemies and armies that have never once actually defeated us are just too much hassle to keep fighting with.”

“This is Berk. A bit trampled and busted and covered in ice, but it's home. It's our home. Those who attacked us, are relentless, and crazy. But those who stopped them, oh, even more so! We may be small in numbers, but we stand for something bigger than anything the world can pin against us. We are the voice of peace, and bit by bit, we will change this world. You see, we have something they don't. Oh, sure, they have armies, and they have armadas. But we... we have... OUR DRAGONS!"

#how to train your dragon #httyd #dragons #toothless #hiccup #how to train your dragon 3 the hidden world #the hidden world #httyd3 #httyd2 #stoic the vast #stoic #valka #fishlegs #astrid #hiccup haddock #hiccstrid #alpha toothless #light fury #night lights #dreamworks dragons #berk #viggo #dragonbludvist #how to train your dragon 3 rewrite #httyd3 rewrite #the hidden world rewrite #thw rewrite #How to train your dragon 3: the hidden world retwrite #rewrite #fix it

[mangekyuou]

Hi. If you're comfortable with writing this ( if not, please feel free to ignore, no pressure on you, I really really appreciate your hardwork & I love your writing thank you so much for all of this amazing fanfics you keep bringing!! 💗💗💗💗 ), may i request some angst where Zoro & gn!reader gets into a heated argument with each other which leads to reader wanting to break up with him?

★ WHAT ONCE WAS! roronoa zoro ★

── pairing. zoro x gn!reader.

── summary. change was something you feared. but it had happened before your very eyes as you watched your long-term boyfriend train to take on unknown dangers out on the sea. you can’t even recognize him anymore.

── cw(s). angst. gn!reader. no pronouns used. shitty summary. reader says something kinda mean. zoro being kind of a jerk. takes place pre-timeskip before zoro leaves the shimotsuki village. mentions of kuina.

── wc. 1.2k.

── notepad. i actually been so long since i’ve written something angsty that just stayed angsty. it hurt my soul just enough. so thank you so much for this !! i know the rq says that the reader wants to break up, but this one is kind of a mutual break up

things just kind of happen, don’t they? everything feels fine one moment, but the next moment not so much. people change all the time, even when you don’t want them to. maybe, you were afraid of change. maybe, you were just afraid of him changing.

he didn’t hold you anymore. when the sun had fallen to rest, and the moon had taken its place to shine silvery blue in the cool night sky. not once had his arms draped over your body like they used to. he hadn’t even faced you, as he drifted into the world of dreams. most nights, he did not even come to bed.

instead of lying beside you until sunrise, he found himself striking a dummy a hundred times with the same attacks to perfect them. instead of breathing in your cozy scent, he had pushed his mortal body way beyond its limits.

he didn’t kiss you like he did before, full of passion and love. his strong hands cradled your face as he kissed like every time would be the last one. instead, he had settled for quick pecks to the side of your temple, as he muttered “love you” against your warm skin. hardly even a moment later, he would be out the door. he didn’t even give you a chance to say it back. he never even said ‘i love you’ anymore.

maybe it was a minor thing to gripe about for some people, for it to be those special three words instead of the two. but it meant a lot to you, and he knew that. or at least you thought your boyfriend of several years would have known that.

you made up excuses, anything to keep you from believing that the man you loved more than anything was changing before your very eyes more and more every day. you found yourself thinking questions you never wanted to think about.

does he care anymore? was he no longer attracted to you? did he even love you anymore? had he ever even loved you?

it filled you with so much dread, to the point it was overwhelming. it was getting harder and harder to keep how you were feeling behind the closed door of your, well once shared bedroom.

you couldn’t keep going on like this. going on like everything was fine when it wasn’t. pretending to be fine, as you watched your neglectful boyfriend exert himself to near injury in the name of becoming the world’s greatest swordsman.

now he was talking about leaving the village to challenge dracule mihawk to a duel? you loved him dearly, but you heard one too many stories about “hawk-eyes”, none of them were good. allowing your boyfriend to even set foot off this island was sending him to an early grave.

you believed in him, sure. one day he would be the greatest swordsman. but for once, you just wanted him to be realistic and realize that that day will not be tomorrow, it won’t be next week, it won’t be next month.

why doesn’t he understand you feel this way because you care about him?

“zoro…” you say gently, standing at the door frame of the dojo.

the swordsman was still swinging away at the wooden dummy that was a few swings away from falling apart. of course, he didn’t hear you the first time. he never did.

“zoro” your voice was much louder this time, finally grabbing his attention. “huh?” was all he even said before he went back to swinging at the dummy. he didn’t even spare you a glance.

“can we talk, please? it’s important.”

“just say what you’re going to say, ( y/n )”

“WILL YOU PUT DOWN THOSE LOUSY SWORDS AND LOOK AT ME!”

you didn’t mean that. you knew just how much his swords meant to him, especially the one dawning a pure white hilt. you knew what his dream meant to him. you were just angry. frustrated. tired.

you watched as he sheathed the swords, and did as you said. his expression was stone cold. it was like looking at a whole new man. never had he ever looked at you like that. you knew what you said hurt his feelings.

“if you’re still trying to talk me out of leaving, forget it. if i don’t do it now then…”

“THEN WHAT?! you’ve never been out of the east blue! and you’ll be a DEAD MAN if you challenge a shichibukai!” you couldn’t stop yourself from yelling. “you don’t know what lies ahead of you in the other seas, zoro! i’m just trying to help you!”

“i never ASKED for your help!” he retorted, clenching his fist around the hilt of one of his swords. he continued, “i never WANTED your help! i never NEEDED your help!”

a silence filled the room, as your face dropped and your heart sank into the dark void of your body. you opened your mouth to speak, but you couldn’t even form the words you wanted to. you weren’t even exactly sure what those words were.

“if i don’t do this now…then i may never have a chance to do it again. i have to do this, I thought you understood that.” his voice was full of disappointment, as he turned his back to you, as if you had meant nothing, as if this has all meant NOTHING.

you balled your fists, “i do understand that! but i also understand that there are battles that we are not prepared for just yet! kuina meant a lot to you, zoro. her dream has become yours, and you want nothing more than to achieve that for her. but you are not ready. letting you go would be suicide! kuina would not want that!”

“YOU DON’T KNOW WHAT SHE WOULD HAVE WANTED! YOU DIDN’T EVEN KNOW HER!” he snapped at you.

“YOU’RE RIGHT! I DIDN’T! BUT I KNEW SHE WOULDN’T WANT HER FRIEND DEAD! AND I’M NOT GOING TO SIT BACK AND LET THAT HAPPEN TO YOU!”

“then don’t. leave.”

“…what?”

just like that, you felt everything crash around you. leave? what did he mean 'leave'? leave and go where? how could you leave when this was all you knew? HE was all you knew. you were each other’s firsts. how….could you just leave?

how could he throw everything away? everything you were willing to stay and fix.

“leave! you don’t want to be here then go. nobody’s stopping you.”

he made it clear.

it couldn’t be any clearer than that.

with shaking hands, you slowly turned on your heel, putting one foot in front of the other, walking out of the dojo, walking away from your first love, walking away from the man you thought you would spend the rest of your life with.

you had hoped, he would have stopped you. that he would drop his swords and chase after you, pull you into a hug, and apologize for what he said. you had hoped you just start over, like none of this ever happened. that he would see that you meant well, that you just wanted to keep him safe, that he would stay here with you.

but that didn’t happen. tears flooded your cheeks, as you continued to walk home without him.

it was over, wasn’t it?

© MANGEKYUOU — do not copy, repost, or translate my works.

#☆ — MY LOVE MINE ALL MINE. #one piece #one piece x reader #roronoa zoro #zoro roronoa #zoro #zoro roronoa x reader #roronoa zoro x reader #zoro x reader #zoro oneshots #zoro scenarios #zoro imagines #zoro headcanons #zoro angst #one piece oneshots #one piece scenarios #one piece imagines #one piece headcanons #one piece angst