#language abuse

[infinitysisters]

𝐃𝐨𝐧’𝐭 𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬.

If you mean, ‘upset’ or ‘distressed’- say that.

Not ‘trauma’ or ‘traumatic’.

————————————

If you mean ‘that makes me uncomfortable and I can’t articulate why.’

Say that.

Not “this is problematic.”

————————————

If you mean you were treated poorly or your feelings were hurt.

Say that.

Not “they are a narcissist or an abuser.”

————————————

If you mean “I don’t agree with you.”

Say that.

Not “you are a fascist.”

————————————

This is a mindless, brainless and very careless way of speaking. It dilutes the meaning of words.

There are real world consequences.

𝐒𝐞𝐞𝐫𝐮𝐭 𝐊. 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐰𝐥𝐚

#seerutkchawla #language abuse #denotation vs. connotation #narrativespeak #dsmspeak #psychobabble #mass thought manipulation through corruption of language #correct language #speak truth don’t cast spells #good af advice #advice #clarity #intellectual honesty #plain speaking #fuck ism and ist words #release mental adolescence

[an-idyllic-novelist]

Husk with Violet Evergarden!reader scenario

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

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

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

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

Reblog to support content creators!

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

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

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

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

You, who believed in Charlie’s work.

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

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

He lost the ability to feel anything years ago. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

THUD.

Shnk.

THUD.

C-crack.

THUD.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“ ‘Yeet’?” You repeated.

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

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

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

“Yes.”

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

“Yes.”

“Food for plants.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It’s done.”

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

You faltered. “But -”

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

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

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

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

“Husk?”

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

“Thank you…for everything.”

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

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

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

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

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

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel x you #hazbin hotel husk #husk x reader #husk x you #hazbin spoilers #viviziepop #cw physical abuse #tw physical abuse #cw violence #tw violence #cw cannibalism #tw cannibalism #cw language #tw language #violet evergarden!reader #fem!reader #character!reader

[jonasrev]

They said chipotle before me

Chip Olt Tay

Before me

I just want a sonic cheeseburger and chili cheese fries chili cheese tots maybe now it’s good stuff I do have some modification ideas for Australia yeah that’s true

I meant New Zealand goddamnit sorry got to work on the GD

#Chipotle #Cara #Language abuse #USA provincialism #USA greed #USA education crisis #USA consumerism crisis #New Zealand

[neuroticboyfriend]

i know us schizos can be relatively lax about the word schizo... but for people who aren't on the schizophrenia spectrum, please remember... it is a slur, or at the very least, a derogatory term. maybe don't say it (unless we're okay with you calling us it), especially not to separate yourselves from us.

context: i just saw someone say "i'm not a fucking schizo" when talking about their misdiagnosis and resulting trauma. this could have been done without using a slur, especially given how much we also face misdiagnosis and medical/psychiatric trauma. we're in this together, not apart.

#softspoonie #ableist language cw #ableism #sanism #schizophrenia #schizoaffective #schizotypal #schizoid #schizospec #schizophrenia spectrum #schizophrenic #mentally ill #medical trauma #neurodivergent #psychiatric abuse #misdiagnosis #psych survivor #survivor #trauma survivor #abuse survivor

[mero7t]

gemini!leo(@tangledinink) meets his worse self (araneus!leo)

#merot.png #merot sotp drawing ourtles #rottmnt #gemini au #araneus au #this is actually my first post about the araneus au. awful #rise leo #cw child abuse #cw ableism #cw ableist language #mild but still #time to log off tumblr for 37 hours

[roomwithavoid]

the haters aren’t gonna like this one but i’m right!

#npd #narcissistic personality disorder #narcissist safe #npd safe #cw ableism #cw ableist language #the following tags are people who need to see this one :) #npd abuse #narcissistic abuse #narcissist #narcissistic trauma #narcissistic parents #narcissisticgaslighting #narcissism #raised by narcissists #narcissistic mother #narcissistic father #narcissistic ex #narcissistic relationship

[birdsong-warriors]

Due to pacing, this update is four pages, and the next will be two!

What do you suppose is going to happen next? B)

First | Previous | Next

Part 1: Friend and Family

See up to thirty pages ahead, with timelapses, on Patreon!

Backgrounds, brushes, and other assets for sale on my Ko-Fi!

#swifthawk's chance #blood and bone #language #language warning #blood #blood warning #ask to tag #comic pages #ok yeah i think im gonna tag this with #parental abuse #just in case!

[thottybrucewayne]

When I say "I'm rooting for everybody Black," I mean I'm including Black people who are usually overlooked outside and within the community. Black people whose Blackness becomes conditional the second they confront other Black people about bigotry within our community (Transmisogynoir, Transphobia, homophobia, ableism, sanism, etc.) not abusers and coons...

#thotty speaks #thotty rants #its solidarity this and solidarity that until a Black person who has delusions tells you that saying shit like 'delulu' hurts them #Black solidarity until its time to make a joke about famous abuse survivors #Black solidarity until its time to discuss ableist language being taken as aave #Black solidarity until its time to listen to any Black person who lives at an axis of oppression that you don't then its fuck em right? #Then if they criticize you they cease to be Black right? #Its funny cause I never see yall take this same stance of conditional Blackness when it comes to abusers and predators #Yall can say 'they always trying to take down a strong Black brother a leader in the community' and the nigga you pointing has done nothing #but use his power and influence to harm people further marginalized than him and doing it all under the image of a 'Good Christian Brother' #I'm tired of yall I swear to God

[uncanny-tranny]

I truly hope that the younger generation isn't being told that when they are being teased or bullied it's because their tormenter secretly likes them.

Somebody liking you doesn't mean they should smack you, pull your hair, tease you, berate you, call you names, make fun of your appearance, make fun of your cultural background or immigration status, or anything else. When you talk about these things, you deserve to be taken seriously. Being written off is a dangerous thing, especially if you are being bullied.

Bullying is not love or admiration.

#bullying #bullying tw #adults stop normalizing 'abuse as a love language' challenge (impossible?!) #man if i had a kid who was told not to report bullying because their bully was secretly in love with them. i would be going to jail istg. #because that shit is so fucking dangerous. like fucking legit dangerous. #i wonder sometimes if those small seeds planted in people's minds make them feel like to be loved is to be shown pure hatred #because to be loved is to prove that you can manage through abuse or torment out the other end without walking away

[furiousgoldfish]

abusive parents when they make a gross negligent error that damages the child permanently: *angrily* well I meant well! Nobody can judge me because my intentions were good! If you make me feel bad for this you're a heartless monster, think of all of the things I did for you! I was doing my best!!

abusive parents when a kid makes a well-meaning mistake that doesn't do any real damage: demon! horrid despicable scum of the earth, you are monstrous, I know you did that on purpose to make me miserable, you enjoy my misery! Everything in the world is your fault and you need to be put into order! There is no punishment enough for what you did, you little scoundrel, you monster, just wait until you see what happens to you, you're going to regret the day you were born!

#tw abusive language #abusive parents #toxic parents #double standards #child abuse #yelling #abuse #insults #threaths #psychological abuse #emotional abuse #tw verbal abuse #tw insults

[sky-kiss]

Okay I had a thought and you can do with it whatever you want... but Raphael speaking infernal is so underrated. Even in game when he casts spells during battle, he doesn't really verbally say anything which is a shame (but is kinda cool if certain beings are powerful enough to cast nonverbally. Either that or my game is hella bugged). When you had that moment in your latest chapter of him speaking infernal to transform that made me 😳Like the way it'd described of being this harsh language and Raphael speaking it just snapped some part of my brain and I'd imagine it'd do something for Joi/Tav too. Like would Raphael still somehow make it sound beautiful (to quote Mamzelle, "a voice that could make the foulest blasphemy seem the sweetest hymn" or it would he still sound harsh but it's still hot because it's flying out of THAT mouth?

__________

A/N: There’s an actor I used to adore who was German, but often spoke a lot of french. So his German would come out with that gentle French lilt. Gonna channel that.

__________

He comes to her in the evening, this devil she loves, and the scent of cherries, sulfur, and musk hangs about him like a shroud. Raphael prowls about her suite like some great cat, his dark head held high. In the hells, his hellfire eyes will light with their inner fire. On the prime material, he’s softer. Warm brown, a touch of honey, almost sweet enough to make her forget. 

“You’re late,” she says. 

He hums lowly. The natural theatricality of the noise does not rob it of its power; Tav shivers. The devil sees; he knows. He always knows. “Ah, but there is such beauty in anticipation, wouldn’t you agree? Desire honed to a knife’s point.” A turn of his right hand, long-fingered and elegant. “Before one tips over the edge.” 

It’s a fine enough point in principle, but less appealing in reality. Their time is short, limited to stolen moments when their schedules align. She has a city to rebuild. He has the lower planes to conquer. 

Her devil smiles, patronizing. “If you feel neglected, mouse, I have already proposed a solution. You’ve only to accept the offered hand.” 

“Join you in Hell?” He nods, eyes wide and lovely. It strikes her that he has cultivated every aspect of this human skin: the smile is so wide, so open, and so nakedly suffused with guile that it wraps back around to innocence. 

Raphael steps close. The scent again: cherries, sweet and delicate. Her devil, wearing sweetness and silk to hide his uglier underbelly. He brushes the fringe of her hair back from her cheek, touch lingering. “Deny me all you like, pet. It shall make the eventual fall all the sweeter.”

Anticipation. Tav shivers. 

Some nights, they fuck in front of the fireplace or on the chaise. Never in the bed. It’s her stipulation. Raphael crinkles his nose at the coarse language and indelicacy of the location. She deserves better, he says. The phrase always comes with an accompanying hand gesture, as if he's framing her for a portrait. Something pretty he can lock away from the world, point at when he wants to feel superior. Admire his wealth, this wild adventurer he’s collared. 

Most nights, they work. Tav shuffles through requisition orders. Raphael amends his contracts. She watches him work, more often than not, gaze flicking across the elegant script. It burns, and there’s an undeniable elegance to the infernal ruins. Tav reaches out to race a line, mouthing the words. She’s out of practice. Infernal is not a pretty language; it fits particularly poorly in her untrained tongue. Raphael rests his chin in his palm, amused by her attempt. 

“Allow me.” 

The devil repeats the phrase. It may as well be a different language. The words drip off his tongue, the harshness erased in favor of a lilting cadence. Tav chews the inside of her cheek, brow furrowed. “Is that…is it a regional dialect? Something distinct to Cania?” 

“In all likelihood, you’ve only heard the lower dialects. The least baatezu are harsh and guttural. The higher speech has a grace to it, provided one is willing to learn. It is a melody, dark and heady as any wine.” Raphael places his hand, palm up, on the table. “Allow me.” Tav sets her hand in his. “Close your eyes, pet.” 

She does. 

Raphael traces lines across her palm, humming to himself. “There are four tongues, sweetling. Lower, lowest, high, highest. For the sake of your sanity, we shall avoid the dialect of the archdevils. But the language of the courts might please you.” 

“And is there a reason my eyes must remain closed?” 

He chuckles, thumb pressing against the veins of her wrist. There is an awful note of potential in the touch; he could break the fragile bones with half a thought. “Feeling, Tav. Like the steps of the dance, it should fill you, move you.” 

She shivers as his fingers ghost up her forearm, featherlight nerve strokes. Raphael repeats the lines of infernal, his fingers drifting up on the mouth melodic stretches, dipping down when the words adopt a guttural edge. It is never grating, never clipped; some of that is exclusively him, years of experience and language marrying in a distinctive vocal pattern. Tav chews her lower lip. She’s too aware of his heat, pinpricks of warmth dancing across her skin as he plays his game.

It is beautiful and dark, and she feels the words on her skin. Raphael traces the runes. Her mind struggles to translate the higher dialect, flowing until it isn’t, succinct until double-meaning creeps into the terminology. Tav feels drunk in the darkness. 

“And now,” his voice is closer, spoken against the shell of his ear. The devil gathers her into his lap. He smiles into the curve of her throat. “The student demonstrates what she’s learned. Come, pet, impress me.” 

He traces the runes on her thighs. Over the skin of her belly. Between her breasts. And if she loses the thread, if her voice gives way, her devil stops. He’ll suck a bruise into her throat, press teeth until they threaten to breast skin, tease, tease, tease…

Anticipation, she thinks, that earlier word flitting across her awareness. 

And her devil is ever patient.

#bg3 raphael #raphael bg3 #raphael x tav #baldur's gate 3 fanfiction #asks #my fic #raphael out here abusing the dark power of his voice #in this house we make terrible choices #im sorry there isnt more language stuff #my latin is SUPER rusty so i didn't risk it

[thatineffablewitch]

Feeling angsty about the Angel again…

Aziraphale was horrified to give Crowley holy water. He wouldn’t hear of it, he was terrified at the thought of Crowley using it. He didn’t want to give Crowley “a suicide pill,” in his own words.

He was always terrified what Hell would do to Crowley throughout history. If Hell found out they’d been consorting and fraternizing…“They’ll destroy you.”

He was holding onto Crowley in Edinburg, totally and hopelessly in love having watched Crowley display more kindness and compassion and self-sacrifice than any angels Aziraphale knows, when Hell quite literally ripped him out of his arms.

He fell in love with Crowley the moment he met the Starmaker. Even then, he warned Crowley of the dangers of questioning God. Aziraphale has always just wanted Crowley to be okay, to be safe.

Think about it… Aziraphale met Crowley Pre-fall. Aziraphale wanted to keep Crowley safe even back then, “word to the wise,” and couldn’t protect him. He saw or heard about the Fall—one day Crowley was there, the next Aziraphale is hearing (or worse: watching) him be cast down to this new place full of unspeakable and terrifying horrors called Hell. Crowley’s fall was obviously traumatic for Crowley and the fandom does a wonderful job acknowledging that, but how traumatic is it to watch someone you love Fall? To be totally helpless in that scenario?

To watch this beautiful creature be cast out and labeled as unforgivable, to hear them accept that and start calling themselves unforgivable when you never thought they did anything to warrant a need for forgiveness in the first place. “I knew the Angel you were.” I know you didn’t deserve any of this.

All he has ever wanted is for Crowley to be ok, to be safe. I read another meta where someone said Aziraphale purposely made the Bentley “our car” so Hell couldn’t pop in and grab Crowley anymore (property of an Angel + Shax couldn’t pop in anymore = safety), and told Crowley to watch the bookshop since he’s safe in there. Honestly I wouldn’t put it past Az to think that far ahead (he is intelligent and gayer than a tree full of monkeys on nitrous oxide).

These are a lot of half-baked ideas but I hope y’all see what I mean: Aziraphale wants Crowley safe because he has loved Crowley for 6,000 years, and in turn worried about Crowley for just as long. He just wants to take care of his love but the current systems of power in place make that utterly impossible and I think that breaks his heart every single day. I think the worry has been eating away at Aziraphale for 6,000—having such constant real and intense fear for your loved ones well-being is traumatic.

#So when the Metatron says Crowley can be an Angel and go with Az to Heaven? #Of course Az is excited #In his mind Heaven is still much better than hell #He hasn’t acknowledged the covert abuse/cruelties of heaven yet #He just sees the overt abuse of hell #And in a way #That’s so tragic too #He sees the opportunity for Crowley to leave hell but doesn’t realize it would be trading one prison for another #He’s hopelessly in love #And a GUARDIAN #He is a PROTECTOR #Of course his love language is keeping his loved ones safe #He’s just been so mind fucked by heaven that he doesn’t recognize what “safety” actually is #Good omens meta #aziraphale meta #good omens #aziraphale #go meta #aziraphale defense squad #aziraphale loves crowley #aziracrow #good omens angst #ineffable spouses #My post

[spop-romanticizes-abuse]

this is what i don't get. if nate really wanted to portray catra as this innocent and compassionate person, why does he keep describing her as such an asshole, even post-redemption?

he could have easily said something like “catra stole adora's shirt because it was comfy” and it would have sounded cute and romantic, but he had to go and specify that catra ripped up adora's clothing just so that she wouldn't wear it. because.. yeah. that's so romantic and not shitty at all.

#the way the creators themselves normalize abusive language is insane #“catra has changed!!” proceeds to talk about how catra destroys adora's property without her permission #spop critical #spop salt #spop discourse #spop criticism #spop #she ra #anti spop #anti catradora #anti c//a #anticatradora #anti nate stevenson

[tornoleander]

Jay’s been through it

CW: Sexual assault Implications brief discussion of sexual predators + lotta swearing

(Please let me know if I missed any content warnings and Check if you are ok to hear this theory before reading. This type content has potential to help or hurt you depending on who you are as is the nature of problematic themes. Safety over curiosity.)

This is cannon compliment. Uhh kids show?! Yeah I know shouldn’t really have these themes but they’re there hear me out. Spoilers for season 6/8 I guess.

I’m bothered by this scene and how It connect to certain events so I’ll cautiously share

Sons of Garmadon Episode 7:

Here is the clip

Kelo asks “Where’s the green Ninja”

WHAT THE FUCK! Dude the double take I had when first watching this.

So he looked at Kelo’s… lower half and basically said ‘Cole shut up that man’s crotch is too close’. And not in Jay joking tone, he’s like dead serious and stressed. (The scene just cuts away after)

Jay you ok? Why is it implied some guy might have tried something?! Why else would he say that?! Who the FUCK touched my boi? What even is this scene?!

The fact it’s Jay that said it out of everyone is bad because it’s been implied to him before.

So let’s talk about the darkest Ninjago theory that’s been quietly circulating for a while in fan content. For simplicity I’ll call it captains quarters theory, If you’re unfamiliar I’ll explain.

Basically some speculation happened because of a certain villain that displayed subtle ongoing predatory behavior. And a part when Jay was his prisoner that caused people to worry what happened before the scene started.

As some of you have caught on It’s the scene where Cole rescues Jay from Misfortunes Keep.

He didn’t find Jay in his cell where he should have.

Cole found him beaten as ninjago has ever depicted except when literally dying.

Alone

no explanation given.

In the corner of Captains Quarters.

Nadakhan’s room.

Dude :(

And his concern afterwards.

And thinking he didn’t deserve saving.

“Thank you for trying to save me,-

It’s Just a lot.

Doing awful things to make Jay wish it all away is terrifyingly in Nadakhan’s character. Not just the sadistic torture part.

Nadakhan has many behaviors similar to a sexual predator. I’ll go over it briefly but see my last post for a detailed analysis.

He Seeks out vulnerable people for victims. The Ninja are teens and he waits till or makes them emotionally vulnerable. The way he talks about gifting his wishes and giving his victims anything they desire can be read as grooming behavior. His secrecy in getting all the ninja alone and doesn’t even talk to his crew about his plans. Manipulative and Controlling obviously.

And the most glaring issues he’s WAY tooo fucking touchy all the time. Like watch his body language during Skybound and see how uncomfortable it is

“Too slow junkyard boy”

Not to mention how explicitly he doesn’t care about consent….

And “If you don’t come willingly Nya, I will take you regardless” followed by a forced marriage.

Side note he doesn’t refers to Jay with his name and the things he calls him…uggh “What lies is our little canary whistling now, hmm?”

So… It’s cannon compliant that something was attempted or happened to Jay. Bruh wtf.

Well if you feel like you resonate with this or it may help there a few great fanworks that explore this I can recommend if interested. Mmm comfort angst.

(Note don’t bother anyone for enjoying Nadakhan as a character. It’s fiction and it hurts no one)

#captain’s quarters theory #ninjago #ninjago jay #ninjago ninja #ninjago nadakhan #ninjago nya #ninjago thoughts #ninjago theory #ninjago angst #tw sex abuse #cw swearing #tw predator #tw implied abuse #cw sa implied #cw language #ninjago skybound #Oli speaks #Oli’s Skybound insanity #skybound slander

[jarviscockerssecrethusband]

One thing I love about the harringrove fandom is the agreement both that Steve is dyslexic and Billy is a MASSIVE reader.

Because while Steve’s always been surrounded by teachers or his parents or exes who either believe that he’s incapable of appreciating reading or that he just doesn’t care, Billy thinks that’s bullshit.

Because when Billy gets told to tutor Steve in English, he doesn’t start with a book for toddlers or fucking Shakespeare. They start with Billy reading him Wuthering Heights.

And at first Steve does not fucking get it. He doesn’t understand the plot, the message and especially not the dialect. But he finds himself enjoying it a lot. Billy’s a natural storyteller. He could be on stage.

Billy’s taste in books is both eclectic and weird. He’s reading Finnigan’s Wake for fun. In Irish. He likes Portuguese romance books and German surrealism and a lot of George Orwell. So much so that Steve kind of feels that love rubbing off on him.

He’d used to like reading. Before he was told he was doing it wrong. And even though he despised the books set by Hawkins High with every fibre of his being, there was this fire set in his belly, a want to impress Billy.

So he starts with The Hobbit. Eddie “Freak” Munson’s the only other dyslexic Steve knew and he loved that shit. How hard could it be?

The Hobbit is fucking difficult. It starts with a map, Steve thinks is in Elvish and some of the chapters feel like they go on forever. The words still bounce around the page and switch constantly. He likes it though. It’s weirdly fun as a story and he finds himself rooting for Bilbo.

Henderson can never know. That is the one thing Steve is certain of.

Billy doesn’t laugh when Steve tells him that’s what he’d decided to start with. He just rolls his eyes, not meanly and says he used to read that with his mom. Back in Cali. Before Neil fucked everything up.

Billy reads a lot of Oscar Wilde. The Importance of Being Earnest is constantly tucked into his back, dog eared and well loved. Steve knows enough about Oscar Wilde to know what that indicates.

Billy’s a poof. A faggot. A queer.

Billy is like Steve.

He doesn’t have the courage to look out for anything gay. Nothing even that hints at the matter. Steve knows that his dad has The Iliad tucked away in his office. He’s away on business while his mom sits in the kitchen and complains about America. Even after 15 years in the States, she still misses Poland.

His daring heist after she goes to bed leads to him sitting on the kitchen floor, crying about Achilles and Patroclus. Billy’s right, classics are a fucking bummer.

Steves not as stupid as other people think. He knows that if this were a book, him and Billy are hurtling towards deaths door. Even in real life, he’s seen the guys on tv, worn down to the bone on hospital beds.

Gay does not equal a happy ending.

He resolves to never touch The Iliad again.

Billy comes to their next session with a black eye and his mullet chopped off. They don’t talk about it.

1984 is depressing. And surprisingly apt for how Steve feels that his 1984 has gone. He does feel like he’s constantly being watched. Like being in love is illegal. Like saying anything too far against the government will have consequences.

Steve asks if Billy thinks Orwell wrote 1984 about America or Russia. Billy snorts but doesn’t answer.

That’s the note they end on for the year.

Christmas comes and goes. So does New Year. Two months of not seeing Billy aches in his gut.

Then he comes back.

It’s the middle of February. Billy’s been kicked out for a week. Steves playing nursemaid.

He’s beaten up pretty bad. Still, Billy insists he’s had worse.

Steve hedges around asking why it happened. Like the confirmation might suddenly make the full scope of their plight real.

Still, eventually Steve asks. Billy looks at him like he’s particularly simple.

He’s gay. Obviously Steve. And he actually has the balls to go out there, meet men, dance. Even if it does mean getting caught by Neil.

During his explanation, Steve notices they’ve gotten closer together. Like significantly closer.

They’re grazing hands. Electric.

Then Billy moves.

Billy kisses him and Steve’s world turns into a fucking supernova.

They kiss and it doesn’t make Neil vanish in a puff of smoke, it doesn’t make the shopkeepers who sneer at his mother go away, it doesn’t make Steve magically able to read.

But it does make Steve feel like maybe they’ll survive.

#billy hargrove #steve harrington #harringrove #harringrove ficlet #dyslexic steve harrington #tw homophobic language #tw abuse