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darqx · 7 months

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Hi I understand if you don't reply, but I was wondering if you have any advice to beginners who want to start making their ocs a reality? (Like in the sense of having Charecters that have been in your thoughts for a while, but it's hard to encapsulate them into physical form?) As I have some that id like to make either into a game or comic but I'm a little stuck..

Also I'm curious if there will be any other content with the best boy himself rire?? : 0

Hullo! Ah, (physically) designing characters, how fun ❤️ - there is part of a reason why I only have a handful of them lol XD; ANYWAY here are three things that help me, so hopefully they can help you as well :)

(I'll use Demon!Rire as an example as unless you are an old guard of mine, he will probably be the most recognisable of my characs.)

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

❓What do you know about them?

First of all since you already have your character in mind, congratulations you are most of the way there already! It's helpful to know the general vibe of them. And I don't mean the super detailed things that may arise from like..."Get to know your OC" quizzes - we are more looking for the core feeling of a character here. If you dumped this character into different AUs what things are going to stay the same/similar? Some things you should consider are:

What is their personality like? Why do they do the things they do?

Do I already have any physical traits for them in mind? Hair/eye/skin colour? Body type? Age? Name??

📝 Write a simple paragraph or some dot points about your character with these things in mind.

---EXAMPLE---

Sophisticated and charming, Rire outputs an aura of power and elegance. His pleasing physical appearance and gentlemanly demeanour usually enchants or commands people. Realistically, he is extremely manipulative and sadistic, and finds entertainment in the reactions of others.

---/EXAMPLE---

🤔 Make informed choices

Ok cool, you know something about your charac! Now build upon what you know to make them real - it is important here to try and match your design choices with the characterisation and "why"s of the character, and less with what you personally think will be cool/cute/whatever. What I mean by this is just pretend they are a person you are describing to a forensic sketch artist - you are giving "facts" as to what you think they look like not making stuff up (eg you would NOT be like "oh yeh she was totally a punk rocker however i'm going to say she wore a long flowing gown cos I think she'd look prettier in it?"*)

*Note that designing a character with opposites in mind can work out if you can at least answer the cursory "why" of it being a part of the character design. For eg maybe the punk rocker is secretly the alter ego of a socialite - flowing gowns and high fashion by day, grunge by night. Like Batman.

📝 Feel free to use dress up doll games and image searches for particular types of clothes/hairstyles/etc if you need inspiration. Thumbnail a bunch of different designs and see what works.

---EXAMPLE---

In my prev example paragraph I highlighted a few things in red. Here I'll break down how they can help craft a physical appearance:

Sophisticated and charming / elegance - to me, these combined make me think of ballrooms and black tie functions and nice suits. A well tailored outfit and someone who knows how to wear them.

Gentlemanly demeanour (well to some degree lol) - since I already know he's hundreds of years old (973 to be exact) I decided that an aristocratic Victorian-esque aesthetic would suit him. Somewhere in between a modern look and something with a bit more fantasy steampunk flair. He smiles quite genially until he's doing it with all his teeth.

Aura of power - he's got to be a bit of an imposing character so he's quite tall (or at least taller than all of my other characs) and carries himself confidently. Hooray for the ability to loom. Dark colours for this character, to cut an impressive figure.

Pleasing physical appearance - kinda stereotypical type of good looks that aesthetically most people would be like "yeh he's pretty". Athletic build - muscular but not bulky, broad shoulders, tapered waist etc etc.

Extremely manipulative - first of all, he looks rather human, for a demon - his entire species is designed very particularly like that. Then there's the sunglasses. The "why" [does he wear them] is they function to hide his eyes (one of the main parts of him that give away his demon-ness), but also as a bit of a red flag to the audience that something isn't quite right with him. I mean, look past his charm and he wears them all the time. The black and yellow colour scheme also ties in as warning colours ⚠️

Put them all together and this was one of my first sketches of Demon!Rire.

*Note that I already more or less knew how he looked other than his outfit; you will probably have a lot more sketch duds as you figure out what your character looks like.

---/EXAMPLE---

🔐 Don't lock yourself in

Despite the fact I've just said "pretend your character is a person", remember you're still their creator so obviously you have final say over them. Sometimes you'll find that they grow and change from what you initially thought of them (or you just evolve in how you draw them). Don't be afraid to make the tweaks and changes that enhance these - whether they be physical or core characteristics - and you'll get closer to the true character you always had in mind.

---EXAMPLE--

I now draw Rire with a more pronounced V-shape, longer, wavier hair, and somehow he ended up with way more pronounced eyelashes than I usually draw on my male characs. Which works out quite well considering how I tend to draw his eyes. Anyway the point of this is that these things developed over time as I kept drawing him.

---/EXAMPLE---

🍀 Try it out with your own characs! Have fun and don't force yourself to try and get it "right" on the first go.

#prettyboysmakegravezz #character design #ref #character design tips #hope this is kinda helpful!#also honestly have fun aye #long post #also as for other content with rire there kinda is but he's not really the main charac lol #also who knows when that will come out im a bit pedantic planning a webcomic #sz

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mo0nfairy · 1 year

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😍😍 OMG, I'm gonna be needing a part four to that Leon post stat.

(Love your writing it's amazing just like you are) ❤️🧡💛💚💙💜🤎

part 1. part 2. part 3.

tw :: re4 spoilers, obsessive!leon, yandere!leon, violence, knives, tasers, guns, explosives, framing, murder, abuse of power, death of a character, physical restrainment, noncon touching, thoughts of suicide, being knocked unconscious, shit goes down basically.

⸺ thank u, honeybaby !!!!! i've been vv busy these past few days, but this man has been HEAVY on my mind. i've also been listening to playing dangerous by our lord and savior lana del rey on repeat and it had my brain conjuring up some ideas... (also this part is long so buckle up friends)

you see, you've been praying everyday to earn back those damned memories that slipped from your mind 6 years ago. but in a attempt to do so, all you can feel is a gun against your head, an explosion against your body, and dust permeating your lungs. all before the classic cut to black welcomes you. no crying mouse-ley, no crying guard-dog. just empty darkness. through the abyss, however, you are now able to unveil memories that were buried deep within you. and whether the return of these past events is a good thing or not is up to you.

you remember a late august evening. the cool air and descending leaves would calm you, but your current circumstances prevent you from any serenity. an anonymous tip to the RPD claimed that you were in possession of illegal substances. and somehow, those said drugs had magically appeared into existence within your home. this leaves you here, being driven to the station by the officer of the month, marvin branagh. despite everything, you're grateful marvin was the one to arrest you. you happen to favor him and his basic understanding of boundaries, as opposed to a certain mutt you know far too well.

it's safe to say you've now got quite the reputation in the RPD with how much trouble you get into. and especially with how quickly the problems seem to fade away. you're being escorted through the station until another officer complains to marvin about some kids with fake ID's. he leaves you by yourself at an empty desk with one hand cuffed to the armrest. the desk right beside leon's. you look to the blonde beside you. his head is rested against his arms folded upon his desk, deep in slumber. his cheek is squished against the surface of his arm, pushing his lips out into a duck-like pout. your mugshot peeks out from beneath his sleeping form. you swear through his unintelligible murmuring, you hear a gentle whimper of your name. marvin had mentioned during the drive how he was up all night looking through your case (wouldn't be the first time), but you can't find it in yourself to feel bad for him. you don't trust him. even several years ago, something within you has always prevented you from trusting him.

you fiddle with a mr. raccoon toy as 20 minutes slowly tread by. completely overcome with boredom, you peak over leon's shoulder to see your case file beneath him. maybe you could find something useful inside, like the bastard responsible for all these false claims. using your free hand, you manage to slyly slip your case folder from under his weight. not without a quiet whine of "no, y/n/n... don't leave me..." good god, was he cuddling your mugshot? (it would be the closest he could get to you physically, after all). you ignore him entirely, thanking the heavens that this man is such a deep sleeper.

opening the file, you find standard information about your case. you read through the notes leon left behind, which causes nausea to then stir in your stomach. he jotted down his worries of your case closing and not being able to keep you in the station any longer; there was ideas of any potential loopholes in the system he could take advantage of and prove your innocence. beside his rambling, there was a long list of certain ways he can frame you for crimes to reel you back into his clutches. what in the actual fuck? and just when you thought this situation couldn't get worse, you find he used pictures of your friends at the shooting range, bullet holes piercing through their paper faces.

you read through the evidence in shock, until a sickeningly-sweet tone gasps your name and pulls you out of your trance. you look over the folder to see those familiar blue eyes peering into yours. leon lights up like a golden retriever with a bone when he wakes up and you're the first thing he sees, metaphorical tail wagging and all. to dream of you and to be the first thing he sees when he opens his eyes, it is pure heaven! only, instead of the early morning, love-drunk haze within his dreams, he is instead met with the heartbreaking look of horror on your face. his eyes trail down to see you holding his notes and his heart sinks to the pit of his stomach. no, no, no, it wasn't supposed to be like this! it was never supposed to be like this! you were supposed to fall in love with him! you are supposed to be with him forever!

you are supposed to love him! you have to!

and you thought you've seen the worst, you thought you reached the bottom of the iceberg. but you were so, so wrong. it had been 2 weeks since you learned the truth about leon. since then, you were able to find solace within an old friend, claire redfield. not only do you adore her, but the layer of protection she had given you when you complained about the clingy cop on your hip was just the cherry on top. without leon, these 14 days were the most peace you have felt in what feels like months. you didn't know how the man who acted like he needed your presence more than air felt about this sudden separation. and to be completely honest, you didn't really care.

now, with your arm hooked around claire's, you two walk home after a night out in raccoon city. you're repeating old inside jokes and clutching your chest in heaps of rib-straining laughter. everything is full of high-spirits until you notice a certain cop car sitting in the street. claire enters your estate first, guarding you protectively while you follow her footsteps. you find (you guessed it!) no other than leon kennedy rummaging through your belongings. and the look on leon's face when he sees you with someone else is nothing short of pure anguish, sheer betrayal. he is jealous — so much so that it practically suffocates the room. you've seen plenty of emotions expressed by leon and the consequences that followed, but you've never seen first-hand what jealousy may compel him to do. considering the pictures of your friends he used as target practice, you feel as though the outcome won't be any good.

claire breaks the silence, "you disgusting pig! i'm calling my brother down here and he's gonna kick your-" her roar of anger is cut off with a sharp groan.

leon stands, taser gun in hand, as the electrodes strike into claire's body. she then falls to the ground with a loud thump, her form convulsing from the electric shocks waving through her. rushing to her side, you attempt to help her. but, you then cave into yourself when leon walks over in three large strides. and you now realize he is absolutely terrifying when he is jealous. his voice drops to a low husk as he demands you tell him who the fuck this is, a major contrast to the bubbly-puppy you're grown familiar with. you are left flabbergasted and are unable to mutter even a syllable.

you aren't even granted a mere second to compose of yourself before leon pulls a knife, plunging it deep into claire's chest. a scream of pure terror erupts from your throat. you're painted red as he relentlessly stabs your best friend, curling yourself into a corner and hiding your face in your arms. through your tear-stained vision, you see the lifeless body of claire and leon standing above her, huffing with fury like some blood-thirsty creature. something in his gaze perceptibly softens when he sees you, so scared and feeble. and it shatters his heart. after all, leon would take every life on planet earth just to see your lips curl into a smile, even once more. but, nothing could have prepared you for the words that would then leave his mouth.

he turns his body cam on. "y/n l/n, you are under arrest for the murder of... whoever this was. you have the right to remain silent. anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law." you stare at leon entirely flabbergasted, but you're too exhausted to fight against him.

he bends down to you, light whispers of "you're ok, it wasn't your fault" and "i've got you, sweet angel" doing little to comfort you. with his gentle hands against you, leon proceeds to cuff you with the same softness you would use to handle a baby bird. and you let him take you away, because you are too caught up in looking at your best friend who was laughing with you just minutes ago now dead on the ground. you cry to yourself in the backseat of the cop car the whole way to the station.

by the time you get there, you are entirely in a state of shock. tears of dread stream down your cheeks, but your face is nothing short of emotionless. you are so caught up in your head, you don't even notice the whispers of other officers there. they gossip about how considering your track record, it's no wonder you'd end up here for good. a sharp glare from the man guiding you through the department is enough for them to shut their mouths. you're then brought into an interrogation room, with cameras off and no other presence besides you and this mad-man at your beck and call.

cuffed to a chair once again, leon locks the door behind him. he then drops to his knees and ties his arms around your waist, burying his head into you. it takes several seconds for reality to hit you, but you soon realize he is crying. and if you weren't restrained currently, you would've pushed him off and made him suffer a fate far worse than what claire endured. now, the two of you are sobbing together, but for entirely different reasons. you, full of grief over someone you love being murdered just moments ago. leon, full of agony over how the gleam of emotion he was so infatuated with left your eyes. all because of him.

you muster enough strength to plead to the blonde, your voice coming out through hoarse, slurred sniffles. but much to your dismay, your cries fall on deaf ears. if only leon had more morality than he did love for you.

"i'm so sorry, y/n, i just needed to hold you. even for just one last time” he picks his head up to look at you, face breaking out in a pitiful smile. “and i can't lose you. not again.” he grabs hold of your hands from behind your back and begins caressing the digits of your fingers. and the contrast between his smile and the crazed look in his eyes has you shuddering in apprehension.

"you're stuck with me to the end."

your eyes then flutter open to see a blinding white light; you begin to hear the quiet chant of a monitor beside you. where the hell am i? despite your current confusion, all you can think about is how you grieved for your best friend in the grimy cells of the RPD, how everyone turned into undead creatures just a week later, and how leon protected you from anything as small as a paper cut. you remember how several zombies overpowered him and how you took advantage of the opportunity, running like hell away and out of raccoon city. you remember the burning of your lungs, the rain on your skin, the hope of getting far, far away from this nightmare. you also remember the fear you felt when umbrella snatched you into their possession, to where you would soon forget everything that happened. including leon kennedy.

you're in the present now, as you can tell by the sheepskin jacket around your form and the hospital bed you're laid upon. it takes you too long to realize that you're safe, out of the hellhole that is los iluminados. looking down, you find a gun sitting by your hip (leon made the declaration that if you were to never wake up again, he wouldn't hesitate to end it all right then and there). you shift your train of sight to see leon at your bedside with his head in his hands while his entire body trembles with trepidation. the sight of this lovesick maniac at your side causes you to spring forward with a harsh gasp. his heartbeat skyrockets at the sudden occurrence. you're alive, and leon can't stop the tears of relief that fall from his eyes.

"hi, pretty... i'm here, you're safe now..." the smile on his face is borderline terrifying. his hands cup your face, practically clinging onto you like a lifeline.

"i remember... i remember everything..." the statement is entirely said to yourself, your gaze distant and not entirely there.

his eyebrows scrunch upwards, gaze softening (if it can even soften more than it already has). leon then pulls your face to his and molds his lips against yours aggressively, desperately. it isn't soft, sweet, or romantic in any sense. it is inexperienced, but overflowing with raw passion, need, and obsession. he only stops when the two are you are breathless and gasping for air. a dreamy sigh escapes leon's lips once he parts from you, gazing into your eyes as if you were something holy (which you are, obvi, but i digress). leon is so horrifically, irrevocably, disgustingly in love with you. and you can feel everything in his all-too overwhelming kiss.

he then engulfs you and melts into your arms like a noodle in boiling water. his light-headed, lovesick laughter fans against your neck. leon somehow pulls you impossibly closer to him, almost as if he were trying to morph the two of you together. it is too much; he is all you can feel, smell, touch. but, without a sliver of strength in your body, you are entirely vulnerable to him and his captivation.

"ashley... she didn't make it..." there’s a certain tone in leon's voice you can’t explain, but you shudder beneath it, anyway. he tells the information softly, but his voice is full of too much exhilaration to be normal. with these newfound memories, that dread returns to your stomach at the thought of what leon is capable of. what leon may have done to ashley while you were out cold.

through the abyssal darkness, your wish has been granted. you have now retrieved all lost memories.

and now, you know why you never were able to trust leon kennedy.

the end !! hehe, thanks for the fun ride babes.

HOWEVER……….. this is surely not the end of my resident evil stained brainrot. so i will not be continuing this series, but i will most certainly be pouring out everything in my RE-obsessed brain. only if u would like to see it, of course. if u do, pls send me some asks!! and thank u again !!!

#this is the end hehe #resident evil 4 #re4 #re4 remake #resident evil #leon kennedy #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy imagine #yandere leon kennedy #yandere resident evil #yandere #gn reader #gender neutral reader #venus’ brain #moonfairy

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drchucktingle · 1 year

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mr. dr. chuck, i'm a few months ago i told a doc of mine that i believe i'm on the spectrum (after yeeeears of considering all the reasons why i thought so) and she agreed with me. then i came to some conclusions about members of my family. then i started melting down and haven't really recovered.

i'm in my 30's, but my life feels like it's been the mistake-addled 24th year for over a decade. people, choices, wants, they feel like things that were silly blips and not of much substance. i'm tired and my body hurts, so it feels harder to get to things i need. doctors don't seem like they can be trusted because of all the other ways i show up in the world.

i'm worried about my life and my future, and it feels like my magic is gone (or that i can't touch it right now). do you have any words of wisdom for someone who found out this really big thing about themselves kind of late?

thank you.

hello buckaroo thank you for writing. first of all i will say MOST IMPORTANT thing to remember is that it is okay and valid to FEEL the way that you feel. your reaction to this news or any news really is not wrong. that does not mean you cant wish for another reaction or WORK TOWARDS another reaction, but in grand cosmic sense this is just your way. YOUR TROT IS VALID and we all have our own unique way. sometimes that path is an easy path with sunny days and smiles and a glorious view, and sometimes it is through the darkness of shadows or crawling through the old bog. we can PREFER one path over the other, but neither is WRONG.

when giving advice old chuck tries to not PROJECT what i think YOU should do because that is not really the point. this is your trot to trot and i do not think it is my place to act like some authority of your way. what chuck can do is tell you MY story of diagnosis and how it made ME feel and maybe you can take little pieces of that for yourself.

chuck learned of way on autism spectrum when i was in early twenties by doctor who said 'yes this is your way'. when i learned of my spectrum way my reaction was: wow this is very very cool i am so lucky because all of my heroes are autistic and now i am in this RADICAL CLUB. we are special and unique and DANG what a treat wish i could have a membership card in my wallet to show all my buds.

now obviously this is not everyones reaction, but as starting off point i wonder what it would have meant to my future if the news would have HIT ME IN A BAD WAY. if i would have felt let a dang robot alien who didnt belong. maybe id be swimmin through the bog ever since.

thing is I LIKE ROBOT ALIENS they are very cool. doctor did not MAKE me different, i was different already, our talks just popped a nice little name on it for me to take or leave. i took the name proudly because DATA from stars trek (certified robot alien) is exactly how i already felt and dang what a cool character and dang what a great life. so was DAVID BYRNE. so was every cool buckaroo artist that i liked. cowboys are OUTSIDER HEROES and that is how my autism makes me feel.

so like i said, i do not know about YOUR way, but MY WAY of hearing this news was heaps of joy and excitement. i will also say that it is very DIFFICULT to find this reaction later if your first leap is feeling in a sad way about it. so maybe if you want to trot back in your mind to those first few steps it would be helpful. maybe mentally trot to where you were pushed off a dang cliff and think "well was i pushed off a cliff or was i just told 'hey bud youve been floating this whole time?"'

because if youve been floating then DANG thats a lot of power. thats not falling. you can float up, you can float down, you can float side to side.

the next thing i will say AS AND ARTIST is that years of toiling and feeling aimless are NEVER actually aimless when it comes to creation. and to LIVE in a human body is to be an artist, because you are CONSTANTLY CREATING the future. when i am writing and i dont have an idea for my next book that can be frustrating, but it is also PART of the process. if i walk to the store to rustle up my mind, or wander around the park, or spend a whole WEEK feeling weird because of writers block THAT IS ALL PART OF MAKING GREAT ART. that is not wasted time. in other words, your years of toiling are not wasted time, that is just the process we all have when we are creating a future masterpiece.

#love is real #autistic #tingleverse

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spaceistheplaceart · 6 months

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Body Swap - How Do I Talk Like That? Part Four

masterpost

Summarized ID: Mob talks to Reigen about his fear of not being able to socialize properly, that he isn't making connections or can't make the first move. He wonders what it would be like to make the first move, and pictures Tsubomi. Reigen puts a hand on his shoulder and listens.

FULL ID UNDER CUT:

(This is a body swap, so I'll be referring to the characters as who they actually are but keep in mind that Reigen is in Mob's body and vice versa.)

Mob looks down, a dull yet sad expression on his face. He says, "It's not that. I've just been thinking. Even though I'm better at it now, I think, I still have trouble talking to others. I feel like everyone else knows what to say, or at the least can make themselves understood."

A grayscale panel shows a flashback to when Mob gave his speech to become student council president, he is on stage, silent, frozen. Mob continues speaking, "but even when I have a script, I freeze up."

Reigen is looking at Mob with furrowed brows and his lips set into a thin line. Mob continues, "Master, I know you said I don't need to be like other people, but..."

A shot of Mob and Reigen sitting on the curb. Dimple floats next to Mob. "I'm afraid if I can't 'get it' now," Mob looks downwards again with a worried expression. "That I won't be able to socialize properly when I'm older."

Dimple grins. "Come on, you don't need to worry about that stuff yet! You've got plenty of friends don't you?" He flexes his arms, drawn behind him are radial rays of light. "What about Tome? And the Body Improvement Club!"

Mob smiles slightly. "It's true. I do have a lot of friend, and I'm very grateful that I'm surrounded by such good people." His smile drops. "But sometimes, I feel like..."

Shown are a series of grayscale flashbacks all in one long panel. The first scene is of Tome, talking excitedly while holding Mob's hands in hers. He looks slightly taken aback, but is listening. They're sitting at a desk. The next is Mob sitting next to Emi on a grassy hill, holding her writing. The final one is Mob, flexing, while one of his Body Improvement Club friends feels his muscle excitedly. Mob is smiling shakily, blushing slightly, and sweating. He says, "I'm not connecting with them properly. Whenever we talk, I always let them take the lead, I became complacent. It felt easier that way."

Another grayscale flashback, showing Mob at his desk in school, looking over and watching two of his classmates talk happily. One of them is a girl with big curly hair, sitting at her desk, and another is a boy with short spiky hair who's leaning on her desk and talking to her. Mob says, "And everyone that I know now, I only know them because they spoke to me first. I've never gone up to someone and became their friend because of my own efforts."

This page shows a glittery thought bubble, picturing Tsubomi. Tsubomi is smiling widely with cute, big, shiny eyes. She's turning around to face the viewer, her hair and skirt. flowing out from the motion. She has her arms tucked behind her back. She's blushing, and is shaded with soft pencil scratches. The background is gray and pink with sparkles and big glowing circles. She's illuminated in white. She has a cowlick shaped into a heart. Mob looks up at his thought bubble, slightly blushing, and says, "If I were to try and make the first move, I wonder..."

Reigen claps a hand on Mob's shoulder. "Mob. Listen," He says.

END ID.

#mp100 #mob psycho 100 #reigen arataka #shigeo kageyama #mp100 body swap #arataka reigen #kageyama shigeo #op art #comic #mp100 comic #tsubomi takane #takane tsubomi #transcribed

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justsomeoneintoomanyfandoms · 6 months

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Forced Proximity

In honour of the FnaF movie coming out, I wanted to write something. I was inspired by a cosplay video by astrocadet on TikTok and that video's comments section, so credit to them!

When does this happen in the timeline? Who knows. Which pizzeria is the reader working at? Why is Michael called Michael and not one of his (possible) aliases? What year is this happening in? Why does the timeline for this game make no sense? These aren't important questions right now. Also yes, I'm using Michael's in-game sprite for the picture; you can picture him however you want. Hope you like the fanfic!

Fandom: Five Nights at Freddy's

Characters: Michael Afton x day shift! gn! Reader

Word count: 2.1k (2,122 words)

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When you realise you left your bag at work, you don't think much of it at first. But when you remember your keys are in said bag, you have no choice but to go back to Freddy Fazbear's. But your co-worker, the night guard is acting strange and when you get stuck in the office together, who knows what will happen?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Damn." You rested your head against the steering wheel. Of course you forgot your bag. And of course your house keys were in your bag.

Why you hadn't just put your car keys with your bag instead of in the key bowl at work, you had no idea. If you'd just done what you always do and put all of your stuff together, you wouldn't be sitting outside your house with no way of getting in.

You really needed to stop procrastinating and get that spare key made.

But, for now, there was nothing to do but drive twenty minutes back to Freddy Fazbear's and get your keys.

You turned the car back on and began driving back to your place of occupation. Why were you working at Freddy Fazbear's? After everything you'd read about it in the newspapers, you weren't really sure. The pay wasn't bad, but you knew you could get a better job. Maybe it was just morbid curiosity that held you there. Maybe if you hung around long enough, you'd find out what had happened to all those missing kids.

You'd never been in the pizzeria after hours. You knew there was a night guard but beyond talking a few times at staff meetings and the one Christmas party that had been held, you didn't really know much about him. Michael. You were pretty sure that was his name. He was sort of cute in a "crush on the guy on the bus" kind of way.

The drive passed faster than you thought, your mind filled with thoughts of work and your co-worker. Before you realized it, you were pulling into the parking lot of Freddy Fazbear's. The lights were off inside, and the doors were locked. You knew, you'd locked them yourself before leaving. Of course you had keys for the pizzeria and not your own house.

You locked your car and walked to the door. This place was way creepier at night-time. You'd have to try harder to remember your keys so you could avoid a repeat of this, no matter how cute your co-worker was.

The key turned with a loud clunk. you heard it echo off the concrete walls and linoleum floors. You pushed the door open. The room inside was dark, the only light reflecting off the security cameras in the corners of the room.

Thankfully, you knew your way around the place well enough that you could make your way around in the low lighting. But you could feel the hairs standing up on the back of your neck. Something felt off.

You stepped into the staff room and quickly found your bag where you had left it. You opened it and ran a hand through the contents. You’d be damned if your keys weren’t in there. But no, your keys were exactly where you thought they would be, in the inside pocket next to your staff id.

You closed your bag again and turned to leave. But halfway across the room you heard a loud thud from somewhere in the building. You jumped.

Could it be intruders? What was the security guard doing not patrolling the halls? You stood, locked in place. You knew you should just leave. You weren’t even supposed to be here. And it was already about 1 o’clock and you had the opening shift which started at 6. You were barely going to get 4 hours of sleep if you left right now.

But some strange duty of care made you stop. It wouldn’t hurt to just have a quick look around, or at least check in on the security guard. Maybe he was asleep? You sighed. Who needed sleep anyway?

You made your way through the halls, your shoes squeaking ever so slightly against the plastic lined floors. The noise seemed especially loud in the oppressive silence.

Suddenly a bright light flashed across your eyes from somewhere to your right. You stepped back, trying to shield your face.

“Oh my god, it’s just you.”

You lowered your hand as the light dropped to the floor. After the glare, the room in front of you seemed even darker than it should have. You could barely make out the figure inside, but you knew from the voice that it was your co-worker. Michael.

“Hey,” You tried for a calm greeting but the shake in your voice made it sound anything but, “Sorry, I left my bag here and-”

“Get in here.” You felt Michael grab your arm and pull you into the small security office. You began to protest at the rough treatment, but Michael shushed you before you could say anything. He pressed a button behind you and the door you’d just been pulled through closed with a metallic clank.

Your eyes now adjusted to the dim light, you shot Michael a questioning look. He ignored you, looking at the footage being shown on the television sitting on the table in front of him. Then, he pressed the button again and the door opened.

He leant back in his chair. “Sorry about that. You just needed to…uh…you being in the hallways would have messed with my check in on the rooms. Might have thought you were an intruder or something.”

His excuse seemed feeble and he looked like he knew it. He tried for what you assumed was meant to be a welcoming smile but instead came across as forced. “So, what are you doing here?”

“Like I was saying before I got pulled in here, I left my bag. And my keys. So I had to come back before I could get into my house.”

Michael’s eyes darted towards the screen, then to the clock. You followed his gaze. Already 2am. Time sure was passing quickly tonight. You were starting to give up on the idea of getting any sleep. Maybe you’d just have sleep in your car and then have a nap during your lunch break. You began backing towards the door.

“Well, I should go, let you get back to your work-”

“No! I mean…” Michael cleared his throat, “uh, you can’t leave right now. It’s not safe.”

You raised an eyebrow. “No safe?”

Michael nodded, eyes again darting to the screen.

“And why is it not safe? I made it here didn’t I?”

A pause. Then Michael sighed. “I don’t really know how to explain it without sounding like I’m crazy.”

You were pretty sure that ship had long since sailed. There was no way this guy was fit to be a night security guard. Or at the very least, being alone in this place every night was starting to get to him.

Michael beckoned you forward. You took a tentative step. He pressed the button again and the door closed once more. You were getting more and more concerned. Was this just a set up? Were you going to show up on the news tomorrow, the latest victim of a serial killer who was hiding as the security guard at Freddy Fazbear’s?

But then Michael pointed at the screen, you leant forward, trying to see the room clearly through the grainy footage. It was the hallway on the other side of the door. For a few seconds, there was nothing. Then a figure ran down the hallway. You could hear metal clanging as the figure passed the door, before the noise faded into the distance.

Michael pressed the button and the door opened.

“Why are you opening the door?” Your voice was shriller than you would have liked.

"We can’t use too much power."

"What do you mean we can’t use too much power?"

"This place only has a limited amount of power available each night. I have to be careful how I use it." Michael pointed to the green bar at the bottom of the screen. The words above it read “power remaining: 50%”.

“And what was that thing?” You could feel yourself beginning to shake. Shock was setting in fast that you’d expected.

“Foxy.”

You laughed. You couldn’t help it. “Foxy? You’re telling me that was Foxy? The animatronic from Pirate’s Cove? The one that gets shut down every night before we close up? The one that couldn’t be running down the hall because that’s not in its code?”

Michael nodded.

“Uh huh. And you want me to think you’re not crazy?”

Michael sighed. “It gets worse believe me.”

“Oh really?” You could hear the hysteria creeping into your voice. Because if that really was Foxy, you sure didn’t want to be in this building anymore. “Go on. Tell me how it gets worse.”

“The animatronics are possessed by the ghosts of the missing children.”

Silence.

“So the kids are dead?” You couldn’t believe that was what you were focusing on.

Michael nodded sombrely. You ran a hand over your face. Either this guy really was crazy, or he was telling the truth. No one in their right mind would joke about dead kids like this.

“And I can’t leave?”

Michael shook his head. “Not unless you want one of the animatronics to get you. We used to have more security guards you know.” From the haunted look in his eyes, you guessed he was telling the truth.

You took a shaky breath. “If I find out this was just an elaborate prank, I’m reporting you to management.”

Michael gave a weak smile. “I wish that was the case.”

You glanced at the clock. Just past 2am. Michael followed your gaze. “We only have to make it until 6. Then everything stops.”

“Only four more hours huh?” A question suddenly occurred to you, “Why do you still work here? You do this every night?”

“Let’s just say I have history with this place.” Michael’s expression was tight, “I can’t quit just yet.” You could tell he wouldn't say any more.

"I guess we just have to make it through the night then."

The evening passed quickly, Michael focusing on keeping the animatronics out and you trying to keep your fear at bay.

The clock now displayed 5am. But it had only showed the hours, not minutes so you had no idea how close it was to 6am and freedom.

You glanced across to Michael. He seemed more frantic than earlier in the night.

"Sorry, I don't think we're getting through tonight."

Your stomach dropped at his words and your eyes flicked over the power bar: only 1% left.

"We might still make it."

But before Michael could reply, the lights turned off with a loud clunk and the whirring of some machine turning off.

You smothered a scream and felt around until you found Michael's shoulder. You wrapped your arms around him and felt him hug you back.

"I'm sorry." His voice was soft and you could hear it shaking.

You tried to calm your breathing, though it was getting increasingly hard. "You did your best."

A loud clanging noise echoed down the corridor outside.

"Just in case we die, I always thought you were cute."

You could hardly believe it. Now you were getting a confession? Just as you were about to die? "Really?"

"Yeah."

"I've had a crush on you since my first day here."

"Guess we were a little late with figuring out our feelings."

The clanging grew louder until it sounded like it was just outside the door. The percent of power ticked lower.

Michael hugged you closer, pressing his face into the top of your head. "I'm sorry."

Suddenly, a bell chimed, playing Westminster Quarters as the sound of children cheering played over the speakers. You jumped at the sudden noise, clinging closer to Michael, your eyes squeezing shut.

So you were surprised to hear him laugh, short and almost hysterical. "We did it. We did it!"

You opened your eyes cautiously and saw, on the camera monitor in large white letters "6 am", pixilated confetti floating down the screen.

"So we're alive?" You could barely believe it.

Michael nodded, smiling at you. "The animatronics stop after six so we're fine."

You began laughing. "Oh my god, I thought we were going to die." A thought suddenly occurred to you, "Did you really confess to me when you thought we were both about to die?"

Michael winced. "I was almost hoping you'd forget." Then he blinked, "But you said you liked me as well?"

You felt your face heat up. "Yeah, I guess I did..."

"Well I guess there's only one thing to do about that. Can I take you out this weekend? I'll be off and I know you're not working."

You smiled, nodding. "That sounds nice."

But you figured you'd better clarify one thing.

"As long as it's not a pizza date."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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#writing #fanfic #five nights at freddy's #fnaf #michael afton #michael afton x reader #five nights at freddy's x reader #fnaf x reader #i keep typing fanfic as fnafic so that partially inspired this...

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bowandcurtsey · 1 year

Note

Hello, I saw your requests were open

If you don't mind id like to request headcanons of nozel falling for a commoner squadmate s/o? She's very sweet, kind and lovely and has healing magic and she always takes care of him when he's overworking himself or heals him after a tough mission and he was suspicious of her at first but then he understood that her kindness was genuine and he fell in love?

You guys are really quick to make requests, haha! I love it, thank you for making me feel that I'm still relevant. (≧◡≦) I was afraid that I would be forgotten since I'm not as active in writing.

Also, I'm kinda high from alcohol so bear with me if there's a lot of errors.

I miss this grumpy royal so much

Characters: Nozel Silva x f! reader tw: unchecked works , soft and fluffy uwu

Nozel silva has a gigantic wall up around his heart. So he really doesn't trust anyone easily.

He doesn't despise commoners, it's just that he feels that commoners can't really get what it's like to be a royal. Not in a bad way, but like a lot of commoners think that royals have it easy and they have it tough.

Which is not true. Royals have certain stress to go through and certain things to uphold.

So when he met you, he had his guard high up in the skies. He doesn't like opening up because he felt vulnerable and he doesn't really like feeling weak.

At the start, you were just a healer to him. Like any other healers, just doing your job of healing people. He doesn't look down on you, in fact, he's appreciative and grateful for people like you.

He thought that you were just another commoner that wouldn't understand the difficulties of being a captain and a royal.

Until you told him "thank you for you hard work".

He was puzzled honestly, since you were the one doing him a favour by healing him.

But you said that your job was easy, and he had it tough, having to fight on the front lines so that commoners like you could be safe.

He had a good impression on you.

And then the next time, he met you on a battle field. You and your team were there as an emergency rescue mission because the fight was too chaotic and there were too many injured.

You healed him and you were really upset and worried for him. You cared for him and even went the extra mile, bringing him something to drink and some essence to drink.

You told him to "come home safe" and that you'll be waiting for him.

Nobody has done that before; telling him that they'll be waiting for him.

He was a little suspicious, wondering if you were trying to hit on him because he was a royal and a captain. But when he saw that this was how you treated everyone, he felt remorseful for thinking that way.

Compared to you, he was a sinner.

Slowly, he found himself wanting to be around you more. He looked for you all the time to heal himself.

He loved it when you fussed and worried for him.

And what made him realise he was in love was when he felt jealous when you cared for someone else. You fussed about Fuegoleon's injury, saying how it must have hurt and that he needed to be more careful.

It was then that he realised he wanted you to himself. It was a strange feeling for him, being so concerned about someone else that wasn't his family or squad.

It took him some time to accept his feelings and taking the first step to court you. He didn't know how actually, he was worried about what you might like or dislike, or if you might feel that he was too overwhelming.

This royal had tons of insecurity about himself.

He found himself wanting to talk to you and pour out his worries and anxiety.

But you always cared for him and gave him a sense of security. You told him not to overwork himself and to take good care of himself more.

Which not many have done so; people always wanted more and more out of him and they always expected perfection from him.

But with you, he felt at ease, and he felt like he could relax and throw all his worries out the window.

He knew that he couldn't see his future without you in it anymore.

He finally asked you out on a date and nothing in the world has ever felt so right for him. It was the best night of his life and he was the happiest he had been in awhile.

"do I have the honour of asking you to be mine?" he asked you on your third date. He wanted to ask you since the second date but he chickened out.

Of course you liked him too. You felt that everyone only saw the cold and ruthless side of Nozel, but you saw more than that; you saw that this royal was soft and kind inside and that he needed someone to love him and care for him and you had this strong urge to be his everything.

You saw how hardworking he was and how he always put the country and others before himself and it made you want to give him your all and be the one to protect him instead.

From then on, you never looked back. You wanted to give your all to take care of him and make him feel happy.

And he let you into his heart, baring his true self to you. And when Nozel Silva loves, he loves whole heartedly and made sure he would give everything in his power to make you the happiest lady on earth.

#nozel silva x reader #nozel x reader #nozel imagine #nozel silva hcs #nozel silva x you #black clover headcanons #black clover scenarios #black clover imagine #black clover x reader #black clover fanfiction #black clover imagines

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noowayybroo · 10 months

Text

I can't think of a name for this fic.

Hi! It's been a while!

So one of the first Resident Evil fics I read was about Leon saving you from an abusive ex! And I desperately wanted to find more of these!! But I couldn't :( So! I wanted to write one! But before doing that I thought... Leon's a sweet boy - n I heard he had an ex or something before re2?? but maybe I'm wrong?? So what If YOU, dear reader, ran into absolute sweet baby boy Leon (just the one I have in mind but play it however you want if you can) and helped him through a dodgy relationship or breakup?

Characters: Leon Kennedy, Reader

Warnings: Not NSFW. GN reader cuz YOU'RE BEAUTIFUL! WHY WOULD I EVER WANT TO EXCLUDE YOU, HUH!?!?!?! No mention of age but faint job and relationship to Leon suggestions. Hurt / Comfort. Please be careful there's gonna be an abusive / manipulative partner mentions but they will be hopefully brief n quiet and the fic will focus mostly on happy Leon at the end!!! Not really a warning but written with dumb GB money n phrases n stuff so sorry if that upsets you XD

"That'll be £5.29, Sir"

"Just 99p, please."

"You want the lucky dip?" ... "Just one?" ... "£3.99 please."

"You know I need to see your ID if you want those, right?"

Another day, another dollar. Another day in this dumb shop, working late shifts for what? For minimum wage and abuse from drunken low-lives. To put it simply, you worked at an understaffed corner-shop, and always had the late shifts, because you always had the time. Same old same old. Time passed slowly, each night felt like a repeat of the last, and all you did was stare at the clock and wait for your shift to end.

Wednesday through Sunday.

Same old?

Same old.

Soft baby-blues, yet just as able to pierce, were not what first earned your attention. Nor was it the silvery blonde hair that fell upon his face in neat locks. Surprisingly, nor was it that face: so soft, so pure... Quite cute. Sweet, maybe?

Ok, stop making assumptions. The young man who's just entered your store alone seems quite flustered, in a rush. Yet you notice how he takes time to establish eye contact with you and give a swift, polite nod, acknowledging you.

You gladly return his gesture and your chest flutters a little as you share a kind smile before he disappears into the rows of aisles. You think to yourself as you watch the man's head bob around the rows of products, no longer able to see his expression. You subconsciously attempt to look a little more presentable. The thing was, customers this late at night weren't usually so polite. They didn't give a damn about whether you were there or not, unless they were trying to steal something. Wait, what time was it again?

10:04

Oh. An hour 'till home time. Great, your feet were killing you. You're shaken from your mundane day-dream as the man strides quickly up to the counter. His hands are full of microwave meals and booze. He reaches the counter long before you're focused and ready to serve him, but waits patiently despite his rush. He hands you his ID, although you'd probably have let him go without it, pays in cash and scrambles to pick his things up again.

"You need a bag?" you ask quietly, feeling almost reluctant to disturb his rush.

"N-nah thanks I got- it's not my money I don't need it-"

"It's on me." you state, soft yet assertive, grabbing his items and shoving them into one of the more expensive carrier bags. You catch him off guard completely. He stands there, frozen, as you pick the rest of his items out of his cradling arms and bag them, before shoving them back to him all packed.

"Wh- T-thanks!" He beams, hesitant. He gives you a wide, genuine smile, nods, and leaves. Just like that, he's gone. Polite, kind customers were so rare that you couldn't blame the tornado of butterflies within your stomach. To think, also, that he was so grateful for one carrier bag, something most patrons would spit on you for not supplying free. Your gaze rests on the sliding door where you last saw him, wondering if you'd ever do so again.

10:07

Uggghhhhhhhhhh....

The next few months come and go. Summer soon becomes Autumn, the nights get longer, the air gets colder and your enthusiasm for this damn job remains absent. Something that did happen, though, was that you saw more of the cordial gentleman from that night. He seemed to have been the only nice customer that came back. That, or, there was something particularly memorable about him...

Gross. Stop it.

Always kind and polite, you loved exchanging smiles with the man as he went about his shopping. You wondered why he'd been so shy.. Or at least, you'd imagined him to be shy, thanks to his timid voice and the way he stole glances at you from above the aisles.

He lets people with fewer items jump ahead of him in line, thanks you extra graciously as he leaves, and sometimes, rarely, makes small-talk with you when it's just the two of you alone. Sometimes, he likes to ask how you are, and, if a customer or your manager has given you a hard time in any way, he hurries over once you're alone to reassure you.

"Don't listen to them, c'mon... What do they know, huh?"

"You're amazing! You're doing your best and that's more than enough!"

"Those jerks don't know how lucky they are to have you!"

On one night, you're helping him pack his bags as he's counting his change to pay you, and you can't help but notice some... markings on his skin. They look like bruises, maybe hickeys? But in strange places. There are some scratches too. Where are those from? You ponder, holding out your hands for his change without thinking. Is he... alright? ...Do those hurt?

You're snatched back to reality by the sound of the change he'd just handed you falling and clattering on the counter and floor around you.

"Shhit - Sorry-", you hiss, going to pick up the coins, but before you can move, he's already shuffled to the side of your counter and is crouching down, picking up each penny with care. He hands them back to you, a little more caring this time in case you'd drop them again. He seems concerned. This time you keep a firm grip on the coins.

"Sorry... Should have brought notes..." He apologises, sincere. "Next time, sorry." No matter how much you tried to reassure him as you counted his change, he kept apologising and cursing himself. You couldn't judge him, but you just wished he wouldn't. It was your mistake, not his. He shouldn't bully himself over your issue. You stand there in silence for a while, handing him his receipt. "Thank you, but are you okay?" he asks, tentatively.

"I'm alright... I just- Are you okay?" You can't help but whisper. You feel terrible, prying about his personal life, but you were just so curious. You were worried for him. His confusion dissolves into a pool of concern as he follows your gaze to his own hands and neck, and he quickly shies away. He looked hurt, as if your stare had wounded him, as if you'd accused him of something. More so, he looked as though you'd uncovered something he'd rather leave hidden.

He does his best to assure you, swearing up and down that he's alright. He tells you he does a lot of training for his job, which made some sense with his figure, and that sometimes things can get a little rough. You didn't completely buy it, but he was gone just as quickly as he'd come - signing off with a polite nod and a 'good night' and disappearing into the cold.

Worsening your suspicions, the next time you saw your favourite customer, he was even worse for wear. His hair was tussled and messy and his features a little more scratched up and grizzly. Worst of all, this time, that lovely smile of his just felt fake - empty. It was as though he smiled for you, to show you something that wasn't really there. You greet each other. You make small-talk. As soon as he notices that his scars are visible, he takes off.

The next time you'd seen him was midnight. You'd been instructed to close the shop early after waiting for a co-worker who'd never turned up to take the next shift. The rain splashes down around you as you grumble to yourself, fiddling with the flimsy lock on the shop's door. You'd put down the metal shutters, turned off all the lights and closed up. Your priority at this time was simply to get home. You were tired, stressed and quickly becoming soaked through. All you wanted was to get home, kick off your really-painful-right-now shoes and-

...hear loud footsteps approaching you from behind.

Running.

Running?

Running towards you?

You turn quickly, heart racing, only to be met face-to-face with a really, really desperate looking gentle-customer. He greets you, panting, exhausted.

He tells you he's confused; he thought your shop was 24/7. You explain the situation to his sympathetic ears as you both stand there, equally soggy and dripping beneath the falling rain. You stand with him in silence, letting the downpour claim you as he catches his breath (or works up his confidence.)

"Did you need something?" You help him. He's hesitant, but you know he ran for a reason. Your eyes grasp his as you stand together, looking like fools on the corner of a dimly lit street.

"It- it's... I didn't want to have to ask you but could I PLEASE buy something I really really need it I'm so sorry I'll pay you extra I'll-" You cut him off, already opening the shop back up. He needed your help and you weren't about to deny him it for any reason, not since he'd been so kind to you.

You both hurry into the shop, setting up the till whilst he gathers what he needs, and then it's time to check him out and leave. He follows you out as you lower the shutters the rest of the way and lock up once more, and you wonder to yourself as you do so why he hasn't left yet. Looking up at him from your hunched over position, you see him watching you eagerly. He seems to want to say something, probably to thank you or say goodbye, but most likely feels it might be rude or abrupt.

"Thank you... Thank you very much." his voice echoes beside you in the empty street. Vivid street lights shine down on the both of you, cool colours complimenting the cold air prickling your skin. When your eyes meet, he shoots you a soft smile. You dread a 'goodbye'. You're certain it's coming. "Listen... it's really cold out.. and the rain-"

"Yeah, I know... Is this where we say goodbye for the nigh-"

"Do you want a lift?" the man interrupts you suddenly. His voice is all too timid, but he does his best to speak up over you before you mention parting ways. He doesn't think he could hear that right now.

Not that you'd know, but something about your kindness and generosity to him was affecting him in a way it shouldn't have, considering that he was in a relationship. Swiftly, the man spots your discomfort and surprise, and quickly chimes in, "My name's Leon, by the way, Leon Kennedy-", There's a long pause, "Sorry... I thought it'd... You should know that at least... Before you even think of getting in my car-"

"Are you sure?" It was your turn to cut him off this time, call it payback.. or something. In reality, your excitement just got the better of you. You wanted to speak with him, get to know him, and this would be the perfect chance!

I mean, of course, there was stranger danger, but look at him! He's harmless! Lil' (big) guy couldn't hurt a fly! Besides, by now, you felt like you knew him, at least a little. The rain poured down, soaking through you, and you didn't live far so you were sure it wouldn't be too out of his way...

"I know it's weird and sudden, I was just wondering, you don't have to..." Come on, he had to be nervous with this amount of babbling.

"Of course I'd be very grateful, thank you." You ease him, earning a relieved and somewhat excited look from him as he quickly shows you to his car which is only a few meters away. Leon juggles his shopping whilst helping you into the front before storing what he's bought in the boot. You let him know where you live, to which he gives a happy nod and an 'ah!', and finally, you're on your way. Homebound at last.

You and Leon make great conversation on your way home. Almost like a dream. You hadn't spoken to him more than five minutes in one go before, and yet it felt like you were the closest of friends. He liked your music, he was inspired by your hobbies. Your dress sense enthralled him, and he always complimented you and piped up in disagreement whenever you put yourself down. On the short drive, he really opened up to you, and, by the time you were clambering out of his front seat, he was entirely cool and collected... and slightly attractive. You didn't read that.

As you lean through the window to give him one last thanks, you bump your head on the window frame. Tender laughs and giggles were shared, before he disappeared into the night. You stumble home and fall asleep in much a better mood than you would have been in should he not have shown up. He probably had no idea, you thought, but Leon saved your day. You'd have been moody, sore and disgruntled all over, but thanks to him, you slept easy and you dreamt happy.

You wondered how he'd be sleeping that night.

That was the last time you'd seen Mister Kennedy for quite some time. Moreover, the next time you did, he was not alone at all. Someone who you could only imagine to be his partner clung to his arm as they sauntered into the shop beside him. You weren't one to judge, especially not a book by its cover, but this new face simply exuded possessiveness. Ok, alright, he has a partner. That's not so bad-

Your heart cracks a little when Leon doesn't even look your way upon entering the shop. You imagine he always did, to check who was there, but this time he seemed to know you'd be there, and seemed un-phased. Alright, this is okay too. He can't be making eyes at me and getting all friendly with a special someone around. You watch as he's paraded around the shop by his presumed partner, who is certainly making evil eyes at you. They speak loudly at him, make him carry everything and overall just seem like bad news.

Quite frankly, it pisses you off.

Leon stays quiet as they walk around, occasionally replying to his accomplice, and even when it's time to pay, which they make him do, he doesn't look at you. Could he be ashamed, maybe? Maybe he was upset at you. Or maybe... No, did this person have an issue with him just speaking to people? That wasn't very cool at all, to put it all too lightly.

You tried not to let it affect you, you really did, but when the next few times you saw Leon that month and he had them glued to his shoulder, you felt your joy and confidence being eroded with force. Each time, you'd get no input or interaction from Leon, and his lovely, charming personality seemed to be a distant memory. From his partner, which you were now sure of, given that they'd made a point of kissing him in front of you, you received the lot. This included glares, snide comments and even a service complaint which fortunately your manager did not buy.

His silent visits left you alone with your thoughts, and it was agonising. Your mind wandered as you watched him, actively dodging glares from his partner. You didn't like the way they looked at you, a stranger, when really, what did they have to dislike about you? You didn't like the way they held him so close, pulling him in like he'd run if he had the chance. Well, would he? You didn't like how he never smiled around them. You missed that smile, so so much, but with his partner, he seemed scared to show it. Why was that?

Left to stew in your thoughts, you learned to hate a stranger pretty easily. In fact, you felt a formidable rage as you trudged home in the cold air that day. Your mind was clouded with chores and responsibilities, and everything you'd have to get done. Worst of all, you were obsessed with a stranger, and with uncovering his life, and really, you felt pathetic and stupid for being as such. You felt ready to give up, as though you had to. You felt hopeless. Whatever was happening to Leon was none of your business, and at this point, what could you do? What should you do?

You'd probably never even see him alone again, and if you tried to speak to him, what would you say? Would he listen? would he care?

But there he was, in front of you: a perfect mirage, turning onto your street, a block ahead. You can't believe your eyes, especially with the distance between you and the darkness of the night. Your legs, however, didn't doubt for a minute, and you found yourself running towards him. You did your best to silence your feet, but he still heard you, and turned to check out the noise. You slow to a sane pace before walking beside him, catching your breath. Thankfully, he seemed somewhat relieved. 'At least you weren't some armed mugger', or something, probably.

This was your chance. You were beside him now, walking, and he hadn't run, or shouted obscenities at you. And even better - he was alone. He looked rough, bags hung under his eyes and he was certainly due a shower, not that you minded at all. You knew that was (despite the cold shoulder) just as caring, considerate and kind under it all. Selfishly, really, you just wanted to see him smile. Fearing he'd be home and out of your clutches soon, you break the ice.

"Leon... I've been meaning to speak to you for a while, how are you?" You try your best to sound chirpy and bright, still trying to encourage some joy from him, but he seems tired, weary as he glances back at you.

"I've been great, thanks." He replies, but without a smile, you see straight through his lie. He wants to change the subject, to push something else. "Look, I'm really really sorry for ignoring you recently. I didn't mean to. It's just my.. You know, my special someone. A bit insecure, nothing really, just have to keep quiet with other people while they're around."

Suspicions confirmed. That was his partner and he was expected not to speak to you. His sugar-coating does not serve him at all, it merely lines your heart with lead, and you press the conversation further in an attempt to distract yourself as it sinks.

"I was... actually thinking about that lately. Look, I just think... I don't know how to say this but-"

"How are you, by the way? I'm sorry I didn't ask... I hope you didn't think me running you home was odd-", Leon cuts you off quickly. He seems to not want to speak about any of this at all. He seems to know precisely where you're going. If you didn't see the hurt in his body and hear it in his voice, you might get mad, but now all you feel is sorrow for him.

"Leon, I'm... Actually, no. I'm not alright. I need to speak to you. We're friends, right? Can you answer me some stuff? I'm just curious. Like.. Your partner... how long have you guys...?" Leon swallows thickly and drags his blown pupils from the ground to focus on you. He looks guilty, he seems reluctant. But, luckily for you, he seems to think he owes you. Furthermore, hearing you're not ok has seemed to panic him a little.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry yeah so... We've been together for a few months now. They're great honestly, love of my life, all that. Childhood sweethearts. Just got a few insecurities, having a hard time finding themselves, so if it's best if I give them my attention." He sounded so kind and attentive speaking about his partner in such a hushed whisper. Maybe what he was saying was all honest and true, but something just didn't sound right. It didn't feel good-natured. Partners can be insecure, it's alright, but stopping him from speaking to others? Meanwhile, your eyes wander, dragging your mind with them.

"And Leon, what about those marks on you? Is your partner responsible for those? Did you do-", You stop when you see Leon clench his fists. He seems uncomfortable, his hair falling into his face, hiding his flinching eyes. You've hit a nerve, and instantly you feel guilty and regret your actions. Leon starts to walk a little faster, but you feel like if you're going to get anywhere with him you can't let him escape, not this time. As you pass a bench, you gently place your hands on his arms, gripping him. The gentle giant he is, he stops quickly, and allows you to drag him down to sit with you.

"I'm not sure why it matters... But fine, if.. if we're friends we can chat like friends, right? Confidential, and stuff.." He trails off and looks away for a while, before picking up the subject again, but not to deny it, "They can just get a bit clingy. Not to worry, not their fault. Sometimes when we're doing things they just go a bit far, or you know, they make mistakes, accidents. Anger issues, sort of thing but-" Leon was about to insist that you drop it now or not tell anybody about this but you're not having it.

"Leon stop and listen to me, please. I know this is insane, but it's not right, okay??? None of this is right. None of this is correct. Have you been in a relationship before now?" Leon stares at you, his eyes wide, and the lump in his throat jumps once more as he finds himself unable to reply for a while. He's surprised by your boldness. He's amazed by how you've shifted from so calm, funny and cool to this. Now, you seem furious. He imagines you gripping the bridge of your nose and closing your eyes in disappointment if you weren't holding him in place.

His mind struggles to articulate a plan for his words and actions. Just as he's about to really panic though, a thought at the back of his head hits the nail- you're worried about him. You're worried for him. His face softens and he eases up a bit, looking concerned himself. Leon lets out a long sigh and closes his eyes, clenching his jaw and licking his top lip. And then, he moves a little to let your hands slide down his arms. He takes your hands in his and looks into your eyes.

"Thank you." He murmurs. "I understand what you're saying." Silence feels between the two of you, in which you both wonder what the other is thinking. And then, he answers your question. "They're my first. I haven't had anybody before." He sounds shy, almost stammering. Something within him seems ashamed. Does he think it's emasculating to have had few partners at his age? Or is he embarrassed at letting this happen to him? You recognise his struggle, and grip his hands reassuringly. You want him to feel safe. You want him to be happy.

"I get it, Leon. But please, listen to me when I tell you, It's not like that in the real world, alright?" you notice his gaze drift a little so you lean in to recapture his attention. "The person you love doesn't hit you. They don't berate you or put you down. They love you just as much as you love them. They look after you, and they want you to be happy. And they understand that you have social needs and things, and they let you fulfil them. Do you understand me?" Your voice is sweet yet firm. You don't intend to let him go without drilling this mindset into him. At least, you're going to give it your best shot.

You've called him out. You've summed him up. Not only is he fragile but he's exposed. Leon feels feeble, pathetic. He feels as though not only is he weak and unable to help himself, but as though he just exudes this image of himself. He's barely spoken to you, and now you know just how pitiful he is. He felt disgusting.

Meanwhile, you babble on as he stares straight past you, lost in a replay of the last few months of his life. He thought about the comments they'd made to him over time, the things they'd done and said, the things they'd asked or demanded of him. He thought about the horrible things they made him feel about himself.

And then he thought about you.

A stranger on a park bench, late at night, holding his hands and reassuring him. Trying to get him to see just how much he was missing out on. Not only that but you chatted away before him, and he wondered if it was the faint semblance of vanity he had left within him, or if you actually cared. He felt right, holding your hand. He felt safe and he felt respected. He zones back in, staring into your eyes as you finish your rant.

"I do understand, yes." he replies, voice low and thick. "Thank you for everything."

"I have something else to say."

"What is it? Are you okay?"

"I haven't known you long, Leon. But you seem like a really, really good guy. You don't deserve to be roughed around by anyone. You don't deserve to be insulted, or belittled. I don't know your living situation. No idea who pays the bills, but Leon. There's people out there who'd love the hell outta you and never place a finger on you unless you wanted them to, and even then it'd be because they love you, you hear?" Leon nods slowly, obediently as you speak, soaking in your words like a sponge.

"I never asked you for your name..." He rasps, once again, his mind seems to have drifted somewhat, but you understand. It's a horrible, touchy subject, and you're lucky he's put up with staying with you here in the dark. He could have up and left ages ago, you couldn't blame his brain for trying to avoid something so horrible. You sigh, how could you resist him? Reluctantly you give him your name, and earn your first smile from him in what seems to be an eternity. He squeezes your hands softly and shifts a little before looking at you very closely.

"Y/N. Please tell me. Do you think I should leave them?"

Jesus Christ. How do you answer that one?

"I know you just want my opinion, and that you might not do what I say, and that's perfectly fine," you say quietly, moving one hand to grip his shoulder supportively. You'd love to cup his face but that's far too tender. Far too intimate. "But, if they hurt you. if they upset you. If you feel used or disrespected or unloved, they are not for you. You've got tons of time left and you will find someone who loves you, if that's what you're looking for. Nothing this lowlife has taken from you or done to you can get in the way of that, alright?" You chuckle nervously as such a harsh set of words leaves you, but you go quiet when you see Leon's lips twitch.

He seems to be trying to smile, or to fight one back, you're not sure. His eyes appear watery, and his face sunken. He looks like he needs to rest. Then, he looks at you, you can tell he's about to change the subject.

"Thank you, wait. I want to do something before I forget. Could I please have your number, is that alright?"

"What for? Are you sure it's okay?" Leon freezes for a while, staring forward just as he's shuffling through his pockets to find his phone. It's not until the cold air hits your hand that you realise just how lovely his touch was. Leon looks back at you with feigned yet ignited bravery as he unlocks and begins to navigate his phone.

"I'm not going to let them stop me speaking to people anymore." You beam, wide and genuine, so glad to hear those words. For once, he's declaring his strength. He's fighting back. Leon can't help but join your smile as his eyes twinkle beneath the street lamps above. On the verge of tears, he smiles widely back at you. You exchange numbers gladly, and he calls you there and then just to make sure, as if afraid you're lying.

He makes his way home via yours, walking and talking with you and seeing you to your door. Such a gentleman, you think, even though he isn't yours. And to think his 'reward' is what it is. It horrifies you.

The tension is thick as you stand at your door, both swaying slightly as you stand together, exhausted. You conclude your conversation about work, everyday life, hobbies and things, and Leon watches you for a while, flinching a little as he thinks.

Unexpectedly, he pulls you in for a gentle hug. Nothing intimate, nothing over the top. In fact, he seemed almost scared to do it.

"Thank you. You've been so good to me." He whispers as he pulls away. You reassure him it was the least you could do, and jokingly bump him on the shoulder, spewing out something along the lines of 'you better make good on what I said' in the process. He flashes you another smile before watching you head indoors and returning home himself.

You hadn't heard from Leon in an entire week until a familiar pair of eyes creased and smiled at you from the entrance to your shop. That bell had never sounded better, orchestrating his presence. Your friend smiles at you and goes about his shopping, and, ringing him up, you can't help but notice the lack of his usual shopping habits before you. There was no cheap cider, there was no wine. There certainly weren't any ready-meals, just fresh foods, and an expensive whiskey.

You raise an eyebrow at him, and he quickly smirks at you, seeming proud of himself.

"I like to cook. And besides, I thought I'd celebrate." You knew exactly what that meant. He was providing for himself now, living how he wanted to. He must have finally spread his wings and escaped. You can't help but beam, entirely in awe. You want to be certain though, as you look at his refreshed face. He seems to have had a burden and a half lifted from him.

"Does this mean what I think it does, Leon?"

"It certainly does." He chuckles before leaning in and giving you a mock-serious tone, "And you better have been right about those tonnes of people being after me... I'll be waiting for them." He sounds confident, he sounds mischievous and playful. He sounds like a new man, but with that same inner sweetness. He pays for his things, and gives you extra for that bag from months ago. Watching him leave, you made a mental note: That memory was just one more on the list of 'sharp' things that made up Leon Kennedy.

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

HI I REALLY HOPE YOU LIKED THIS!!! IT WAS REALLY HARD TO WRITE CUZ IT WAS SUPER EMOTIONAL AND THINGS BUT I SO SO HOPE YOU ENJOYED IT OR IT HELPED YOU IN SOME WAY. I really felt quite deep writing this (to put it lightly) and I hope the story can mean as much to you, especially those of you from America etc who have to put up with my weird spellings and mannerisms. Anyway, I hope this is alright for you, and thanks a billion for all of your support, ever!!!

I'm sorry if this one hit a nerve or two, I really hope nobody was upset or offended.

#resident evil #resident evil x reader #leon kennedy #re leon #leon kennedy imagine #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy fanfic #fanfiction #fluff #hurt/comfort #re4 leon #leon s kennedy #re2 leon

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gimmethatagustd · 5 months

Text

don't go insane | pjm + jjk

Jungkook's friends warned him not to go looking for Thirteen, Seoul's most prolific "pleasure dealer."

↳ pairing: incubus!jimin x human!jungkook

↳ wc/date: 3.9k | November 2023

↳ warnings: idk if this is dead dove or just shitty but maybe don't read this if you're sensitive to problematic characters, alcohol, strip club, jimin is sort of a drug dealer, humans who have sex with incubi can become addicted, codependency, dry humping, shower masturbation, unprotected anal sex, anal sex without prep, painful sex (but consensual aside from the whole addiction thing???), blood, pain kink, degradation, humiliation, jungkook has issues i'm ngl, jimin also has issues sdhkfjs

↳ notes: this was written for @irishhorse-blog for the halloween drabbles (ik i'm late but halloween is a lifestyle, not a season) who was interested in jikook! this probs went in a totally different direction than you'd ever imagine 💀 idk what i was thinking while writing this, as usual. pls don't @ me jhsdkfjs bye🦇 unfortunately, i couldn't figure out who the original person was who made the jimin edit so shout out to them, whoever they are

↳ masterlist / taglist

↳ what was jai listening to? don't go insane - dpr ian

The bouncer looks over Jungkook’s ID for too long. He shines his mini flashlight at the plastic and watches how the shimmery symbols reflect in the light as if to say, I’m real, please believe me, and Jungkook watches with clammy palms splayed against the sides of his thighs. The denim of his jeans soaks up the moisture as he subtly rubs his hands along the seams like it matters if he’s sweaty. No one will be shaking hands with him tonight, and if everything goes according to plan, he’ll be sweaty for another reason.

That is, if he actually makes it inside the club before it closes.

His ID is real, but Jungkook has an “angel-baby face,” as Hoseok calls it. It doesn’t matter that he has hole-punched his face to slip silver rings wherever he can. According to his roommate, round cheeks and eyes pulled straight from a Disney movie are enough to slam Jungkook face-first into the land of perpetual childhood.

“Alright,” the bouncer reluctantly shoves Jungkook’s ID back into his hands and motions toward the door with his flashlight.

Jungkook hears one of the clubbers behind him groan, “Fucking finally,” but he’s too giddy to pay them any mind. He tries to keep calm as he slips through the doors, focusing on walking purposefully rather than skipping with anticipation.

He’s getting way too ahead of himself. A plan is in place, and Jungkook is determined to follow it. Straying from the plan, well, he doesn’t want to think about what that might mean for him.

For a strip club, Ego is far less seedy than Jungkook anticipated. The club is dark enough to give patrons a false sense of anonymity necessary for men to comfortably sit back in black satin chairs and let their tongues hang out of their mouths as male dancers gyrate in front of their faces. There are patrons of other genders, as well, but Jungkook thinks the men are the most afraid. They take their pleasure in the dark because it’s safe. Only the occasional strobe light of pink and gold casting a sugary glow across everyone’s faces breaks the facade, and even then, the effects are minute.

Jungkook thinks he has gathered this much about the club and its patrons by the time he eases into a barstool and sips on his overly-priced cosmopolitan. It’s the only fancy alcoholic beverage he knows of that isn’t dark liquor.

If this were a regular night out with Hoseok and his other friends, Jungkook would be throwing back tequila shots or sipping on a vodka cran. Rather than wear a nice black buttoned shirt and slacks, Jungkook would be sporting baggy cargo pants and an oversized t-shirt.

The thought that this isn’t just one of his regular Saturday nights reminds Jungkook that he should be nervous. And, fuck, he is. The back of his neck is hot, and a sweaty imprint is left behind when he lifts his hand from the black marble bar counter. It fades eventually, but it’s there.

He tells himself as he flags down the bartender that after one more drink, he’ll be ready. He can’t get too drunk; he needs his wits about him.

In the end, Jungkook is lucky that he’s only on his second drink, or else he wouldn’t have noticed the very thing he came to the bar to find.

Behind the bartender’s ear, half obscured by his mint green hair, is a small tattoo of an inverted pentagram with a dagger running through the middle. Jungkook’s heart kicks up in his chest, practically launching him over the counter. Three words are all he needs to speak. Three words. Three words. Three words.

“Um,” Jungkook begins, hearing the insecurity bleeding through his tone.

Shit.

“Would you like another drink, sir?” the bartender asks with a raised eyebrow and an airiness to his voice that catches Jungkook off guard.

Three words, three words, three words, it’s only three words.

Swallowing thickly, Jungkook straightens his posture and looks the incubus dead in the eyes as he says, “I summon Thirteen.”

Jungkook doesn’t know why he does it. There are so many reasons why he shouldn’t. Hoseok laid them all out for him before Jungkook ran off to Ego with his phone on Do Not Disturb and his heart in his throat.

For starters, it’s illegal.

Jungkook gets nervous about simply returning his past-due library books. How would he survive jail? Or even if he doesn’t go to jail, he’ll at least get a hefty fine thrown at him and a mark on his record. That’s enough to make him want to start crying just thinking about it.

Then there are the dangers, which explains why this is so illegal.

Jungkook doesn’t believe in it– he thinks it’s all discriminatory rumors and exaggerations. Incubus or not, they’re just a person. How could sex with a person be dangerous? Sure, there’s the supposed high, but Jungkook just can’t see how it’s possible to become addicted to a person.

Take the vampire blood epidemic currently sweeping the nation. Jungkook understands that. Humans ingesting vampire blood for the hallucinatory high that comes with it, that type of addiction makes sense; it’s consumable, tangible.

To be addicted to a person sounds fake.

For a brief moment, as the mint-haired bartender leads Jungkook through a series of backdoors marked “EMPLOYEES ONLY,” Jungkook thinks perhaps Thirteen is fake, too. Maybe this mint-haired bartender is going to kill him for being fool enough to believe in Thirteen.

All the horror stories Hoseok fed him earlier come bubbling up his throat like acid, images of people with sunken faces and cracked lips hovering around clubs, not unlike Ego, fingers shaking for a fix they can’t get anywhere else.

It’s illegal for incubi to feed off of humans. Incubi can only feed from other immortals; humans’ souls are far too fragile. Jungkook is a human, but he’d never consider himself fragile. He has grit despite how his hands shake.

“What’s your name, kid?”

The bartender’s question jerks Jungkook out of his spiraling thoughts. It takes Jungkook a deep inhale before he finds the ability to speak, and by that point, the two men have stopped in front of a plain black door with the number 13 embossed in gold in Jungkook’s sightline.

“J-Jungkook,” he answers, belatedly realizing he should have given a fake name.

With a curt nod, the bartender turns to the black door and knocks on it three times in quick succession.

From the other side of the door comes a low voice speaking a language Jungkook doesn’t understand. The lock clicks and the sound makes Jungkook realize he can’t hear the loud music from the front of the club. Just how far back is he?

“Come on,” the bartender orders gruffly.

Stumbling forward, Jungkook tries to recover, but his confidence wavers once he peers through the cigar smoke weighing heavily in the air.

It’s a private lounge, perhaps one of those VIP rooms where more than just a routine lapdance occurs behind closed doors. Jungkook wouldn’t know; he doesn’t have the money for that type of thing.

Through the smoke, a man reclines on a red velvet couch with one arm draped over the back and his muscular thighs spread open. Dressed in a slate grey suit with a tastefully patterned tie snug at the base of a throat covered in thorny tattoos, he looks nothing like Jungkook had pictured.

Pleasure dealers are said to be dirty and seductive villains who lurk in the shadows and lure you in with a promise of a good time. Thirteen is sophisticated and intimidating, with a sharp jawline and high cheekbones. His eyes, black and ringed an ethereal blue, pierce into Jungkook. Something about him is suffocating, with one look capable of stealing the air out of Jungkook’s lungs like a violent intrusion.

The hand not gripping the back of the couch rests on his left thigh, palm facing upward. At the subtle flick of Thirteen’s middle finger, the bartender shoves Jungkook roughly into the room. The room, he hadn’t noticed, his entire body drawn toward Thirteen.

“Sir,” the bartender bows at the waist. “Jungkook has summoned you.”

Thirteen’s thick lips curl into a smirk that sends a rush of trepidation through Jungkook’s bones. Stony, yet with the slightest glint of amusement, Thirteen’s eyes shift from the bartender to Jungkook.

“Is that so?”

Jungkook’s next swallow is slimy, like a slug inching down his throat. It reminds him of the time Hoseok hexed him with a case of vomiting slugs after seeing the spell in a movie.

Unable to speak, Jungkook simply nods.

Thirteen leans forward to rest his forearms on his thighs with his hands loosely clasped between his spread knees. “To what do I owe the pleasure, Jungkook-ssi?”

Thirteen hisses Jungkook’s name, and Jungkook feels as though he’s being squeezed, Thirteen somehow wrapping around his body like a serpent despite sitting across the room. Warmth spreads across Jungkook’s cheeks and down the back of his neck. The room is stifling, but Thirteen’s gaze makes his chest feel cold.

“Pleasure,” Jungkook finds his voice enough to whisper the word right back. “I seek pleasure.”

Thirteen has a piercing just below his plush bottom lip, a tiny silver ball that matches the location of the little chocolate mole beneath Jungkook’s bottom lip. Jungkook wonders what the silver ball would feel like if he licked it. He’s horrified by the thought.

“Did you not come to beg me for pleasure, Jungkook?” Thirteen’s breath is hot against Jungkook’s neck.

If Jungkook turns his head to the side, he can line his lips with Thirteen’s, make them overlap, and pry them open with the tip of his tongue. The thought assaults his mind.

Thirteen digs his fingers into Jungkook’s hair and yanks his head back to force their eyes to meet.

“Stop fighting me and fucking beg for it,” Thirteen growls.

“Please,” Jungkook whispers. He squeezes Thirteen’s shoulders, straight and thick with muscle Jungkook wouldn’t expect from such a polished appearance. Even the thickness of Thirteen’s thighs beneath Jungkook is surprising.

Sitting in Thirteen’s lap, Jungkook feels small.

“Are you sure you want this, human?” Thirteen spits the question, “Because it doesn’t sound like it.”

Thirteen is cruel. His lips curl into a smirk that’s just as attractive as it is mean. His grip on Jungkook’s waist is bruising and nearly painful, but Jungkook likes it. Usually, he doesn’t. Usually, Jungkook wants to be taken care of gently. He likes soft love, soft touches, soft fucking. Whatever this strange desire to be ruined is, it’s not normal. He yearns for it. His body aches as his mind reels.

Own me, take me, ruin me.

A sick mantra clouds Jungkook’s brain. He tries to blink it away, but the more he struggles against this strange pull, the foggier his head becomes.

“I-I want it,” Jungkook squeezes his eyes shut as a sudden wave of pleasure strikes him in the gut. It’s hot and wet, like lava rolling under his skin, from his chest down between his legs, where his cock is painfully hard in his slacks.

“Want what?” Thirteen mocks Jungkook’s inability to speak.

Jungkook can’t stop himself. He ruts against Thirteen’s body, rocking into him to get as much friction as possible. It shouldn’t be so hot, shouldn’t be hurling Jungkook toward an orgasm so quickly, but he feels like his entire body is pulsing.

“Y-Your cock.”

“No.”

Never in his life has Jungkook ever wailed, but he does now. He sobs with his entire body, back concaving and face buried into the crook of Thirteen’s neck when he cums.

It shouldn’t have been so easy. Aside from pulling Jungkook’s hair and letting him sit in his lap, Thirteen never even touched Jungkook. Yet he came, the force of his orgasm making him tremble like an addict going through withdrawal.

“Good things come to those who wait, little Jungkookie,” Thirteen murmurs in his ear.

A sharp contrast to his earlier behavior, Thirteen runs his fingers through Jungkook’s hair, smoothing out the strands he’d disturbed when he tugged on them so harshly. The action is confusing, though Jungkook’s brain is mush inside his head.

Jungkook tilts his head back to look Thirteen in the eyes. His eyes cross and waver, unable to focus on Thirteen’s face despite being right in front of him. Sleep, or something like it, tugs at Jungkook’s eyelids. His eyes flutter rapidly as the room spins.

“You taste exquisite,” Thirteen sounds pleased when he speaks. Jungkook doesn’t understand.

“I-”

Jungkook is falling. His eyes are closed, and his fingers stretch into the empty air, searching, no longer holding onto Thirteen’s muscular body. The darkness that sucks him up is cold, like the feeling in his chest when Thirteen looked at him for the first time. It seeps into his bones until Jungkook’s entire body trembles.

Jungkook is falling, and there is no one down below to catch him.

Jungkook wakes up in his bedroom to the sound of Hoseok singing. His heart beats painfully in his chest. The rhythm is irregular, skipping a few beats or pumping so slowly that Jungkook panics, wondering if it may stop altogether. By now, the sensation shouldn’t be alarming; he’s been having these nightmares for weeks.

Every morning, he wakes like the living dead, sitting up abruptly with his fingers clawing at his chest and his mouth hanging open as he gasps for air that somehow chokes him when it goes down.

Falling, always falling.

It takes many minutes before Jungkook is calm enough to get out of bed. His knees are weak as he slowly creeps around his bedroom, searching for clothes that aren’t soaked with sweat. Laundry piles up wherever it can; Jungkook can’t remember the last time he cleaned anything in his apartment. He sifts through the piles as he flips through the catalog of dreams in his head.

Hoseok keeps telling him to go to the doctor. Insomnia isn’t anything to be ashamed of, his roommate insists. Plenty of people suffer from nightmares – or worse.

Jungkook knows all this.

The thing is, the cause of Jungkook’s insomnia isn’t the mystery Hoseok thinks it is.

Dark eyes stare at Jungkook from the bathroom mirror. The skin beneath them is puffy and purpling, so swollen that the bags wrinkle the tops of his cheeks. He tries smiling at himself in the mirror, and the black in his eyes remains empty, still murky waters.

Turning on the shower gets more difficult every day. Jungkook's hands shake so hard that he struggles to grip the knob tightly enough to twist it. He can’t ask Hoseok for help. Sleep deprivation can only explain away so much.

Jungkook keeps the water cold. He shivers beneath the stream pelting his skin, and clenches his teeth to stop them from chattering. The temperature never chases away the need that eats at his insides. His body burns with it. The cold water and the heat of his need create a tornado inside Jungkook’s mind, uprooting every sane thought until all he can focus on is the arousal stirring in his stomach.

For an hour, Jungkook jerks off under cold water and can’t reach an orgasm. He rubs his skin raw until tears and snot mix with shower water. It hurts his body, and the aching thing inside his chest that he thinks is his soul.

Why can’t he get rid of this need?

“Jeon.”

A rough hand shakes Jungkook’s shoulder. His head slips from where it rests on his forearm and smacks the surface of his desk.

“What! What?” Jungkook flings his head back, reeling from the sharp pain stabbing his forehead. “What’s happening?”

Taehyung gives him a sad smile as he crosses his arms against his chest. “It’s after five.”

Jungkook blinks and looks around at the empty desks surrounding them. “Oh.”

“Come on, get up.” Taehyung cups his hand under Jungkook’s armpit and hoists him to his feet. “A couple of the guys are going to that new club, Id?”

Jungkook’s heart is thunderous, like a feral animal locked in a cage. He clears his throat before correcting his coworker, “Ego.”

Taehyung snaps his fingers. “That’s it. I was close enough. Weird Freudian shit.”

Jungkook is mostly silent on the subway while Taehyung babbles about the newest office gossip Jungkook has managed to sleep through – again. Hoseok says it’s insomnia; Taehyung thinks it’s narcolepsy.

Jungkook knows it’s Thirteen.

The headache that has made a permanent home nestled in the folds of Jungkook’s brain spikes as the two men wait patiently for the bouncer to check their IDs. Well, Taehyung is patient. Jungkook is sweating through the armpits of his work shirt.

“Hyunwoo said this place is a strip club at night but a pretty standard bar during happy hour,” Taehyung explains because he thinks Jungkook has never been here before. “The duality of it all, right?”

The mint-haired bartender looks at Jungkook with a blank expression, void of any hint of recognition. Jungkook isn’t sure if he should be grateful or offended as he sits with the rest of his coworkers at the bar. They all sip dark liquor that burns the back of Jungkook’s throat, reminding him that this was never really his scene.

He pretends to care about their idle conversation, laughs at all the right moments, and sucks on ice cubes to keep his mouth busy. The bartender doesn’t look him in the eyes when he gets Jungkook a second round, but all Jungkook looks at is the pentagram etched into his skin.

Taehyung’s fingers tickle Jungkook’s elbow, forcing him to look away from the bar.

“I’m gonna take a piss and then probably get outta here,” Taehyung announces. Two hours have passed, but Jungkook wouldn’t know.

The moment Taehyung leaves, Jungkook turns to the mint-haired bartender. The bartender stands off to the side to wipe down glasses and organize the alcohol bottles. His eyebrows furrow when Jungkook clears his throat to get his attention.

“I summon Thirteen,” Jungkook speaks confidently this time, even though he has to sit with his hands clasped between his thighs to keep them from shaking.

“He’s busy.”

Jungkook swallows thickly. “What?”

“Thirteen is busy. He cannot be summoned tonight.”

Anger flares in Jungkook’s chest, heating his face and neck. “What the fuck do you mean he’s busy?”

The mint-haired bartender rests his forearm on the counter and leans close enough for Jungkook to see the flecks of red in his irises. When he speaks, he shows the unnatural points of his canines.

“You better watch your tone with me, kid. Wouldn’t want to get blacklisted, would you? ‘Cause I can make it where no dealer in Seoul will do so much as look in your direction. Got it?”

Shame makes Jungkook want to be stubborn and refuse, but his desperation wins. He ducks his head and nods, aware of the fear rolling off him and realizing he doesn’t care. He doesn’t want just any dealer; he wants Thirteen. But he just wants to experience it once to have him fully. That’s all. Only once. Then his curiosity will be satisfied, and he can stop having dreams about the moment Thirteen takes him, finally takes him all the way, touches him, kisses him, tastes–

“You coming?”

Jungkook startles when Taehyung appears at his side once again.

“Uh,” Jungkook eyes the mint-haired bartender, but he’s no longer looking at him, “Yeah, yeah, I’m ready to go.”

Jungkook returns the following day.

No Thirteen.

Jungkook returns the day after that.

No Thirteen.

Jungkook shivers and shakes through a week.

No Thirteen.

More weeks pass, more tremors and nightmares stack up against Jungkook’s withering sanity.

No Thirteen.

“Please,” Jungkook begs with a sob muffled by the carpet.

He presses his face into the floor, cheek squished in a way that will leave marks on his skin. Jungkook took up the position as a sign of submission that his body naturally fell into without any thought. It should be embarrassing how quickly he sank to his knees in front of Thirteen.

For months, he’s been plagued by the creature in his dreams. For months, all he has thought about is being taken, owned, ruined. He wants to feel full, to be desired. He wants to know, for the curiosity to be satisfied, the way he knows Thirteen could satisfy him.

Only Thirteen.

“Please, what?”

Claws dig into the back of Jungkook’s neck, piercing the muscle and hooking into it so deeply that Jungkook can’t move. He feels blood trickle down his shoulders and pool in his collarbones, but the pain never comes.

All he feels is need.

“Please fuck me,” Jungkook whimpers. “I’ve waited. I’ve been good; I came back. I waited for you.”

Thirteen scoffs as he releases Jungkook’s neck, only to dig his claws into the mess of his hair and yank him backward. Jungkook is pulled onto his knees with his head tilted backward to stare at Thirteen, who hovers above him with a biting, upside-down grin.

“Is that supposed to flatter me, Jungkook-ah? Am I supposed to care that you came sniveling at my door every day for months?” Thirteen twists Jungkook’s hair so tightly in his fist that Jungkook feels strands pull from his head. “Begging for me like a bitch in heat, weren’t you? Desperate for cock and to be praised?”

Each harsh word feels like another claw stabbed into soft flesh. Thirteen’s jeering hurts more than the wounds he digs into Jungkook’s skin, but he can’t stop himself from groveling. His mind is no longer his own. He is desperate. So, so desperate.

“I’m going to die,” Jungkook gasps when Thirteen roughly pushes him to the floor. Hot tears flow like lava down his plump cheeks. “I’ll die.”

“No, you won’t.”

“I will,” Jungkook sobs. “I will. I feel it, I will.”

Thirteen’s claws rip into Jungkook’s jeans, shredding the denim until there’s nothing left but tattered scraps of fabric wrapped around his waist. The air is cold against his bare skin, and he realizes belatedly that his briefs are mutilated, too.

“I decide whether you live or die, Jungkook-ah,” Thirteen whispers against the curve of Jungkook’s ear. Jungkook feels the tip of Thirteen’s cock press against his hole while Thirteen’s clawed hand grabs the meat of his cheek to spread him open. “Now shut up and have your reward for being so patient.”

Pain speers Jungkook’s body, sinking so far deep that he swears it creates fissures in his soul. Something horrible rips through Jungkook’s eardrums; it’s animalistic and wild. It’s his own scream, he realizes with a raw throat, that fizzles into whimpers with every rock of Thirteen’s hips.

It hurts getting fucked by an incubus, but Jungkook should have known that. It’s the pain that makes the pleasure so addicting, the feeling of having one’s soul devoured at the same time one's body is satisfied beyond their wildest fantasies. Thirteen fucks into Jungkook with his body, but he tears into his soul with his mind.

Drained, Jungkook wonders if this is how he’ll die.

“Is this what you wanted?” Thirteen hisses. His voice takes on a slurred, gravelly sound that makes Jungkook’s skin prickle. It’s demonic, otherworldly.

“Y-Yes,” Jungkook hiccups, and it’s true.

The skin of his cheek and knees is rubbed raw from being thrust against the carpet, and snot clogs his nostrils from how much he’s crying. When Thirteen twists his hair between his claws and tugs, Jungkook’s orgasm punches him in the chest, leaving him heaving as Thirteen fucks him into overstimulation to the point that he can’t breathe.

This is exactly what he wanted.

do not copy, repost, modify, or translate any of my work

#jikook #jimin x jungkook #bts fanfic #jimin fanfic #jimin angst #jimin smut #bts angst #bts smut #jungkook fanfic #jungkook angst #jungkook smut #halloween 2023 #dgi #gimmethatagustd #jai writes

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cy-cyborg · 3 months

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Writing Disability: Let us Love like everyone else

[ID: An illustrated picture of a red rose on a pink background. To the left of the rose is white text that reads "Writing Disability: Let us Love like everyone else. /End ID]

Romance is one of the top-selling genres in the world across mediums, and pretty much every movie, TV show, book and game has at least one romance sub-plot. You don’t need to look far to find it. However, when it comes to disabled characters, a lot of creators shy away from giving us romantic plot lines or even hesitate to address the topic of disability and attraction being present in the same character at all. So, since it’s Valentine’s day, I thought now would be the perfect time to discuss it.

It can be easy to miss if you aren't paying attention, but a surprising number of stories in various mediums will pair up most if not all of their main cast of characters by the end of the plot… with the exception of the disabled characters. whether they be explicitly stated to be disabled or just coded as such, disabled characters are more frequently left out of relationships by the story's end. Sometimes, the disabled character will be completely disinterested or the subject is just never addressed, such as with Toph from Avatar the Last Airbender. Toph is implied to have had multiple relationships by the time of the sequel series, but unlike the rest of the original gang, we never see it on screen, so I personally think it doesn't count for reasons I'll get into in a moment. Alternatively, the disabled character will show interest in someone, but their affection is just not reciprocated, such as in Disney’s Hunchback of Notre Dame. Disney's Hunchback is a particularly noteworthy example since it's one of the only theatrical Disney movies where the main character has a clearly stated love interest, but doesn't end up with them by the end.

ID: an screenshot of the hunchback of notre dame showing Quasiemodo, a man with a hunchback and facial differences swinging and singing on at spire at the top of the notre dame cathedral. /End ID

In the latter case, where the disabled character’s love is not reciprocated, these stories will often focus on the importance of self-discovery and self-love. An important message to be sure, but the fact that these “you don’t need a partner as long as you love yourself” stories very often centre disabled characters is frustrating, to say the least (If the character isn’t disabled, they’re often deemed “undesirable" for other reasons, such as being fat, but that’s a topic for another day).

Of course, the reason the character doesn’t end up with their love interest doesn't have to be because of their disability specifically. Even if they were turned down for other reasons, it can still contribute to the stereotype that disabled people can’t find love even when they want to, just aren’t desirable as partners (a sentiment that is especially commonly directed at visibly disabled people) and contributes to the overall lack of representation of disabled relationships.

In the other case I mentioned before, where a disabled character is just not interested in romance, can look different depending on the kind of disability the character has, but in my experience, it often comes from the same place: discomfort. This isn't necessarily a conscious thought or decision on the creator’s end, mind you, but just because it's not intentional, doesn't mean it's not doing harm, even if it’s subconsciously.

A lot of the time, many creators don't even consider giving their disabled characters a love interest. the thought never even occurs to them. I can't pretend to know why for sure, but if I had to take a guess, its because the idea of disability and romance just don't go together in most people's eyes, so the thought never even crosses these creator's minds. But why? it comes back to that discomfort.

When we are talking about physical disabilities and those effecting the body but not the brain, the discomfort can come from a few places. First is the discomfort with disabled and visibly different bodies and how they work as a whole. I've spoken about this in the past, but just the idea of disability alone often makes non-disabled people deeply uncomfortable, and when it comes to visible disabilities, they are often forced to confront that, something that a lot of people are resistant to. they don't like thinking about it, and while many non-disabled creators have dealt with this discomfort enough to include us in their stories, they haven't deconstructed it enough to include us having things like romantic relationships.

This is why, despite the fact that Toph has children in The Legend of Korra, I’m still using her as an example. We see the other main character’s relationships and partners in the original show and in The Legend of Korra directly, but never hers. The most we ever hear of Toph’s love life is that Sue and Lin, her daughters, have different fathers. While the mention was good, when looking at this through the lens of “people are uncomfortable with disabled people being in relationships” you can see how the openly disabled character’s relationships only ever happening off screen and occasionally mentioned might still be an issue, even if that wasn’t the creator’s intent.

ID: A screenshot of the legend of Korra showing Toph, a middle-aged woman with black hair and metal armour, lecturing her two daughters. /End ID

this disparity becomes particularly noticeable, however, in media aimed at an older audience where romantic relationships often mean sex. When the relationship is expected to be sexual in nature, an extra layer of discomfort often appears. A lot of people just quite simply don't understand how sex works when you have a physical disability, and are extremely uncomfortable simply looking it up (there are educational resources out there on the subject, and even disability content creators who focus on educating people about sex and disability, I’m not talking about looking up porn). Often times, they just avoid it by simply not giving their disabled characters relationships of any kind to avoid having to address those questions.

There is also the fact that many people infantilise those with disabilities and associate us with children. This is more common when it comes to non-physical disabilities, such as those under the neurodivergent umbrella (which refers to any disability that primarily impacts the brain) and I'll talk about that in a moment, but it does happen with physical disabilities too, most notably with little people and disabilities that impact someone’s height or physical development. Often, for those of us with physical disabilities, the infantilization comes from people either directly associating us with children because of our appearance, or feeling as though we need to be protected like children.

When talking about disabled people in relationships, this might look like someone being hesitant to pair a disabled character up with someone without a disability because they “can’t protect themselves” if the relationship goes bad. This isn’t something I’ve seen stated directly much in media, mind you, but it is a response I’ve gotten from a surprising number of people in real life when I’ve asked why they don’t like the idea of “people like me” (meaning amputees and wheelchair users) dating. I wouldn’t be surprised if it’s the reason some authors and creatives avoid inter-abled relationships in their works based on how often I got that comment when I started dating; they are concerned about the power imbalance. but this mindset is based on both infantilization and the stereotype that physically disabled people are always inherently weaker. If you’re not always worried about how non-disabled characters would protect themselves in a relationship, why are you only worried it when one of the characters is disabled?

However, like I mentioned before, the disabled character being simply uninterested in romance or sex isn't unique to visibly and physically disabled people. It’s is so common with neurodivergent folks, in fact that it’s become a bunch of tropes all of their own, with the most common variant being where specifically autistic or autistic-coded characters will often be the only aromatic or asexual people in a story’s cast.

For those unfamiliar with the terms, aromatic people are those who experience little to no romantic attraction, or those who experience it differently to most, while asexual people are those who experience little to no sexual attraction (or, again, experience it differently to most). It’s a bit more complex than that, and both terms exist on a spectrum, but in order not to get too side-tracked, I’ll leave it there. I‘d highly, highly recommend Jaiden Animation’s video on the subject though if you want to learn more in a beginner-friendly way.

There’s this idea that a lot of non-disabled people get about neurodivergent folks, especially those with developmental or intellectual disabilities, that we are these sweet little innocent beans who don’t want to or simply can’t engage with “adult” things. In most cases though, this isn’t the true. For some folks, including many creators, this is once again an unconscious bias and is the result of them simply not thinking about or deconstructing their ideas around different kinds of disabilities. In these cases, the idea usually stems from the fact that there are some (keyword some) disabilities under this category that do impact someone’s ability to engage with things like sex and romantic relationships, and most people not overly familiar with the disability community just don’t know enough to understand that just because some people under this category can’t or don’t want to engage, doesn’t mean we all can’t.

Unfortunately though, when this is pointed out to a lot of people, instead of adjusting their viewpoint or seeking more information, they get severally uncomfortable about the idea, even going so far as calling someone who is dating someone with a developmental or intellectual disability as “creepy” because they, once again, associate people with these kinds of disabilities with children. Since children can’t consent, neither can we. This is, once again, infantilization, but much more directly.

While I haven’t seen the full episode (or much of the show as a whole), so I don’t really want to comment on weather it handled the subject well, I do at least appreciate that the show Glee calls this line of thinking out when one of the characters, Becky, who has down’s syndrome, begins dating someone without a disability. The parts of the episode I have seen shows several characters around Becky expressing concern, but their bias is called out by the end of the episode. What I have seen of Glee was during a particularly long stay in hospital while being given pretty strong medication so my memory of it is spotty (not to mention everything was out of order) so like I said, I can’t comment on weather or not it was good per say, but I do remember the discussion this episode sparked in my high school with students and teachers alike, and I remember it being the starting point for some important conversations with people.

As I said, there are some disabilities under the neurodivergent umbrella that might prevent a character from engaging in a romantic or sexual relationship. some. however, it's incredibly important to remember that a lot of these kinds of disabilities exist on a spectrum of support needs, and if the character in question's disability would be preventing them from doing so, they would typically be on the very severe ends of those spectrums and have very substantial support needs in other areas of life too. The vast majority of neurodivergent characters in media don't fall into this category. If you are writing someone who has these higher support needs (and please do, we need more characters like that!), be sure to do your research and double check your assumptions about their capability to engage though. Ensure it's actually reflective of their disability and isn't just based on stereotypes and misinformation. And don't forget, if you’re ever unsure, you can always check with a sensitivity reader or disability consultant.

Even in cases where a disabled character does get into a relationship, one of a few things frequently happen that I think authors might want to be mindful to avoid - or at least approach with caution.

The first is that the disabled character, despite being in a relationship, will be completely disinterested in sex (or any part of a physical relationship, such as kissing, if the content is aimed at a younger audience), often being implied or directly stated to be asexual. The first example of this that springs to mind for me is Sheldon Cooper from the Big Bang Theory. While Sheldon is never confirmed as autistic within the show, he displays many autistic traits throughout both the original show (albeit in a stereotypical way that’s played mostly for laughs) and in the spin-off, Young Sheldon. When Sheldon does eventually get into a relationship though and even gets married, he is shown to be very, very reluctant and overall disinterested in sex.

ID: A screenshot from Big Bang Theory of Amy and Sheldon sitting on a couch, where Amy looks annoyed towards someone off camera, while sheldon looks at her, confused. /End ID

So what’s the problem with this? in a vacuum, nothing. Some people don’t care for sex and don’t experience sexual attraction, and it’s fine to show that - we need more ace representation! I myself am disabled (an amputee and autistic) and asexual, shouldn’t I be glad to see characters like me?

Well, the issue isn’t that this is unrealistic, but rather overplayed and often contains a lot of misinformation about both asexual people and disabled folks.

My disabilities have nothing to do with my asexuality - which remember just means someone doesn’t experience sexual attraction; it has nothing to do with weather or not someone enjoys sex. However whenever asexuality and disability are paired together in the same character, it’s almost always because of the character’s disability. As in, the person in the wheelchair is ace because they can’t feel anything down there so they stopped feeling attracted to people (which is not even close to how that works, but is a real example I’ve seen on a few occasions now) or the autistic person is just too invested in telling you about trains, science, superhero’s or whatever their special interest is, to be worried about sex.

The other issue is, like I said, there’s a lot of examples of disabled ace characters already, and considering how poorly most are handled, many disabled people and asexual people alike are just tired of seeing it. Honestly, until both disability and ace representation and understanding as a whole, improve independently, it’s a combination of identities I’d recommend avoiding in your work, at least for now.

Finally, when a disabled character does enter a relationship, sexual or not, a very common dynamic is that the character will often get very insecure and scared that the person they’re dating doesn’t actually like them, or worries that the other person is settling for them, often resulting in their partner reassuring them that they love them, "despite their disability." A recent example of this can be seen in the web series Helluva boss between the character Fizzarolli, an imp who is a quadrilateral amputee with broken horns and facial scarring, and his boyfriend Asmodeus. While Fizzarolli’s insecurities are primarily focused on living up to impossible standards for success, he shouts during a panic attack that he believes that Asmodeus will leave him if he isn't successful, stating that without it, "this is who I am" - ripping off his hat to show his broken horns and scars (something we are told that he acquired in the same accident he lost his limbs in).

ID: A screenshot of Helluva Boss showing Fizzarolli, a cartoon imp in a clown outfit, patchy makeup and broken horns, anxiously holding his jester's cap in his hands. Behind him, Asmodeus, a large blue, feathery demon in a striped suit, looks on, concerned. /End ID

My problem with scenarios like these is once again, not that it’s unrealistic, but that it shows up constantly. The intention with these kinds of scenes is often to assure the character and by extension, disabled readers or viewers, that they are in fact deserving of love. That just because they’re disabled, doesn’t mean they’ll never find anyone. Once again, it's a good message, however, because of how prevalent this exact scene is, it can actually have the opposite effect.

Let’s step back from disability for a moment: If you see dozens and dozens of people with a feature you have, saying they are insecure about that same feature in almost all of of the shows you watch, the books you read, the games you play where characters with this feature appear, even if you aren’t insecure about it yourself, seeing over and over again that others are, it’s natural that it would start to make you doubt or wonder if you should be. Doubly so if that very insecurity prompts these big, often explosive and emotional scenes.

This was the case for me as a kid, I never really cared much about my disability outside of being annoyed that people stared at me, but as I got older, and I saw more and more characters in the media I consumed saying they were certain no one could love someone like them - someone like me - I became more and more worried. The messages that were supposed to be reassurances, instead told me over and over that the people these characters ”found” were the exception, not the rule, and that most people would, in fact, care that I was disabled and not want to date me. When all my friends began dating and getting into relationships, I began to worry that I would never find “my exception to the rule” and be alone forever.

I didn’t really get over that mindset until well into my 20’s, well into my current relationship with my now fiancé, and I know I wasn’t alone in these concerns. I used to work with teenage amputees, and this was a very, very common fear across all genders and sexualities. I still see it in forums and social media groups whenever newly disabled people join, it’s one of the more common fears brought up, and while I get that scenes like these are meant to reflect this reality and help, more often than not, they’re doing the opposite.

For once, I would love to see a disabled character get into a relationship, and for there not to be any mention of “are you sure?” “How could you ever love someone like me?” “I’m worried you don’t actually find me attractive” etc. These conversations are realistic, yes, but we see them so often that I just really wish I could see more examples of stories where the validity of the disabled character’s relationship is never questioned and is never a concern. It just is.

Of course, as with most of the subjects I’ve talked about before, many of these points are less of a concern if you have multiple disabled characters. If you only have one disabled character and have their love interest reject them, it can perpetuate these stereotypes about disabled people being unable to find love, but if you have another character who is successful in that reguard? Well, it’s much less of a concern. The same goes for if one of your disabled characters is asexual or aromantic, but there’s another disabled character who isn’t, or if one disabled character is insecure about their disability in their relationship, but another isn’t.

Of course, be mindful not to go too far in the other direction either. A lot of people are pretty shocked to learn that disability fetishization is also a thing, and while you shouldn’t shy away from showing disabled characters in sexual relationships just because they’re disabled, it is something you need to be mindful of if your story contains more explicit content. As a general rule of thumb, sowing your disabled characters engaging in the same kinds of relationships, romantic and sexual (including casual hook-ups and one-night-stands) is great, so long as it a) fits the character and the story, and b) is actually inline with how you’re treating those topics with the non-disabled characters.

Personally, I don’t really feel like I’m the best person to advise on where exactly that line between just showing disabled people in sexual relationships/situations and fetishisation is, though the general advice I’ve heard is to ask yourself if the focus is on the disability, or if the person just happens to be disabled. On that same note, I’m also not really comfortable explaining details of how sex works when you’re disabled. If you want to know about either of these topics, there are a plethora of disability content creators who focus specifically on those subjects.

To sum this all up though, disabled adults are, well, adults, so don’t be afraid to treat us as such. Show us in relationships where the non-disabled partner’s affection isn’t a matter of debate or insecurity, show us being intimate and having sex (if that’s something you were doing with your non-disabled characters), let us be confident in those relationships, the same as everyone else, and most importantly, remember that a disability doesn’t automatically mean someone just won’t be interested in us, or we won’t be interested in them.

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call-of-ishmael · 21 days

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The Last Ishmael OCD Post

One of my first times that i dabbled into character analysis was about Ishmael's OCD, people like that post but i really feel i could have done better

Canto V was my last major chapter i was willing to read. As i put more distance between me and the story, i want one final farewell in the form of finally fixing up my analysis

PART I: THE META-TEXTUAL

Before i delve into the writing itself, here is some pointers the story gives to her OCD in the form of flavor text and descriptions.

Firstly we have her Bio

This is easy to miss as its just a tiny blurb above her whole intro blurb.

Now, "obsessive compulsive neurosis" is a very weird way to phrase it, "obsessive compulsive" is clear enough but "neurosis" is odd, this is not TOO odd though, as "neurotic" used to be how OCD was classified as a disorder.

However if we look at her bio in Korean, the particulars do simply straight up say "OCD" very clearly, you'd need to MTL but this was also confirmed to me by a friend from SK

The sinner bios are biased though, and are written through a very corporate lens, so lets see if there's any other pointers elsewhere

Her base EGO, Snagharpoon, actually does just that

Her passives name is called "Compulsion" and in its gameplay design its a very interesting way to also point to it

Ishmael is a very all or nothing person, you do it well or you don't do it at all, and this is reflected on how this passive aids you to play

This passive is excellent for boosting the consistency of playing by only going for "Favored" or "Dominating" clashes, while punishing you for taking chances on clashes you MIGHT win

Base ID Ishmael is also a unit with all single coins, rolling tails puts her in a very unfavorable position so this also adds an extra safety net on top. Worth noting being all single coins is also a high risk high reward type of play style.

Finally we see two more pointers id like to note, both from Canto V

The Compulsive`s Knot, an ego gift themed after a naval rope, one of many in the dungeon all alluding to her struggles.

Most obviously though

Her exclusive status effect, Compulsion. This is in direct reference to her EGO passive, providing an attack boost at the same time it provides a drawback in the form of low SP.

We are gonna talk a bit more about this passive since it ties into another gameplay oriented way to point towards her OCD

During the story dungeon we have an event where a noise is heard, you are given two choices, check, gain SP, don't check, lose SP.

Compulsive checking is probably the most well known (to the conditions detriment we will talk about it later) hallmark of OCD

Notably, this doesn't aid Ishmael, while checking can avoid the combat encounter, not checking only has a chance of triggering it, and most interestingly, her SP will always start at -25 during combat encounters. Meaning the temporary boost in her sanity will just get reset next battle, should you decide to check. Checking wont satisfy her anxiety for more than a brief moment.

Lastly the most obvious ones are all the references to Obsession. These are so abundant i feel if you are familiar with the Canto its redundant to have them, i wanted to draw more attention to the allusions to compulsion, as they are less common.

PART II: BEFORE THE STORM

Even since before her own Canto, we can see Ishmael's ruminating and anxious tendencies pop up during previous chapters, which for OCD is important to explore as OCD is an anxious and ruminating disorder.

So lets talk a little bit about OCD! Its a disorder characterized by repetitive and constant intrusive urges to perform a task or a thought (lets keep this in mind for later)

These thoughts or actions are used to try to relieve stress from an anxiety inducing thought or situation. The most common example is OCD exacerbating germ phobia, and causing people who have it to wash their hands in excess.

While OCD is usually described as "irrational thoughts" i feel that's a pretty limited way to view it in my own experience with it. OCD compulsions and thoughts can be informed by very real worries, the worry of getting sick, of making the wrong moral choices, of hurting others. Being clean is a normal and a good practice to stave off getting sick, its the frequency and intensity that turns it maladaptive, OCD turns your own lived fears and traumas against you, and those might very well be real things to worry about, which makes dealing with it very hard.

Enough of that off to the writing!

Lets start with Canto II

This is the first example of her constant need for a lack of ambiguity, previous to this we see her complain about the treatment the sinners are receiving from Effie and Saude, skeptical of the whole deal.

Until shes shown the plans, they are so well crafted shes able to anchor to that and calm down.

This by itself is not really much other than being very detail oriented, lets look a bit further into the chapter

Here we see that aspect elaborated upon more, this moment is framed as a very important one between Dante and Ishmael in their dynamic later on, Ishmael is incredibly upset at the plan having fallen apart so quickly, while yes this is not unreasonable to be upset at, her anger is remarked on by Dante and Gregor as very intense and unusual. This in my opinion is a minor but clear indication her need for planning and considering every option is due to a deep anxiety, but don't take it from me, lets look at Canto III

Here we are told pretty explicitly, Ishmael moving quickly and asking lots of questions is something Dante has noted as an anxious habit.

And here we have more elaboration on what exactly that moment at the Casino meant for Ishmael, it was enough anger and disappointment she has stopped expecting Dante to perform well and instead taken it upon herself to see things go according to plan, this is VERY important to her.

And her worries, are repetitive enough to annoy others, and to be remarked upon by Dante.

This is perhaps the more notable chain of events to point out previous to her chapters aside from 4.5, as it helps contextualize all her usual ways of acting in a more complete light, showing a lot of this is driven by a deep anxiety

And this all makes S.E.A all the more interesting as it pays off on this.

Something i quite enjoy about Limbus is how it re-contextualizes things characters have previously done and said. And the events of S.E.A and Canto V bring a lot of interesting stuff to the table

Lets get cracking with this chapter

In general shes extremely confrontational, and tense, more than usual

But its her anxious outbursts i wanna focus on, what she puts

emphasis on.

This chapter is so crucial in this whole analysis. We see some behaviors way more clearly now, firstly we see her emphasize her need to be absolutely 100% prepared for this, no ambiguity no risks she wants certainty.

But we see something even more clearly and that's her ruminating behaviors, shes brought up things like this to a smaller extent before like commenting on a lot of aspects but here we see in full display her inner world become externalized, shes started voicing worries shes never voiced before can Dante turn them back always? What if Dante dies? What if the sinners get eaten can that be turned back?

And these don't all get brought up immediately, she mentions them in different conversations, pointing to the fact shes constantly going over the subject in her head with no pause, and she gets frustrated when she cannot work on these worries when she cant do anything to quell the anxiety.

And the last part, when Dante finds her so fixated in her planning its impossible to even talk to her. She has to perform some action do something to stave off the disaster she can see coming in her head

As someone with OCD inevitably i have to mention the personal component that drew me to analyze this was how real this feels to when you spiral

A lot of the times OCD is explained as the compulsions being something you do cause you feel its a sort of ritual to stave off disaster. Its in this way i see it reflected in this moment.

As we see with Heathcliff acting as her foil, he points out her worrying is really not doing much other than just her talking and talking, and by the state shes in when Dante checks in on her, aimless not even paying attention to anything else we see the main objective of the planning really isn't practical as much as a compulsive coping mechanism.

She has to do something

PART III: INTO THE DARK

Lots to cover and honestly i will make a companion post to this with all the examples, so for this section i wanna cover some highlights instead, as well as a general discussion of the tone.

The way this chapter is structured is very interesting, its really reflective of the mental state of Ishmael. The chapter feels really aimless, they wander around not really ever finding what they need, which drives Ishmael more and more tense and frustrate

Its a good continuation to how we see her by the end of S.E.A fixated on one goal one thing

As previously stated shes inflicted with a constant special and unique to her status effect called "Compulsion" as covered in Part I

Her behavior is also reflective of this

For a good part of the first third of the chapter shes in her room, the whole time whetting her harpoon, nonstop

However you might notice compulsion is not as present as obsession, and compulsion is also important to OCD its in the acronym! And i have seen others point to it too

However id like you to remember, in the post earlier i said thoughts can fit into OCD, compulsions can be mental and sometimes almost exclusively or mostly mental. Its even in the DSM noted that for diagnosis the compulsions to count you for a diagnosis can be mental in nature

Its in this aspect that i feel Ishmael shines a lot

In general OCD in media is lacking in representation and is often a trait given to assholes or villains

The normal conception of OCD in movies or TV is of neat freaks or control freaks, Compulsion is usually heavily emphasized when it isn't the whole picture

Often ignored though is the aspect of Obsession, some people can have Purely Obsessional OCD (Pure O), this isn't a formal diagnosis or term but its colloquially used by people who have it. Its a bit of a misnomer, as compulsions are present but internalized as mental rituals or rumination

Usually its harder to diagnose, its harder to treat as there's no apparent compulsions others can see, and the people having it seem pretty high functioning to the people around them.

This can be noticed though in people avoiding certain subjects, avoidant behaviors can be the clearest external behavior.

I personally read Ishmael as having more mental compulsions, the way she tends to be a more ruminating and anxious character than outwardly compulsive

During S.E.A and Canto V we see outward compulsions more but from the examples from previous Cantos we can see that's not her usual and she operates more on anxious overthinking most of the time.

However another aspect that ties into mental compulsions is in the previously mentioned avoidant behaviors, we see her isolate and try to stave of having to deal with her worries in both S.E.A and the beginning of Canto V when shes in her room, in both cases doing some excessive preparation in a compulsive way.

CLOSING THOUGHTS

As previously stated Canto V deserves its own companion post, and ill work on that later, i feel this encapsulates what i wanted to say well enough.

I wanted to discuss the previous signs of her behaviors that make me certain her OCD is an intended textual read, and in my opinion a well executed one

Canto V was hard to read as it felt very real and very familiar to the worst times i have had due to my OCD.

Shes a character that despite my distaste i have developed for the franchise, it will never stop meaning a lot to me same as her chapter will always be a piece of storytelling that affected me deeply in ways others haven't

To close i want to leave off what i feel encapsulates the feeling pretty well, in my favorite moment with the membrane consuming her as a metaphor for letting fear, anger, obsessions and compulsions cloud your mind until you forget why you were even there

To you, dear reader, Bon Voyage

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