#so that i can justify the burning hatred | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

lil-quinnie · 8 months

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When there's nothing left to burn, you have to set yourself on fire.

part i part ii part iii

Stepdad!Eddie x F!reader

Warnings: STEPCEST, AGE GAP (Eddie's midles 40s and Reader is middle 20s), lil angst, penetrative sex, oral sex, dom!eddie

Summary: After all these months you're over Eddie, aren't you?

w/c: 5977

picture of Eddie by: @edzmunson86

Eddie rushed inside the house, he swear he have climb the stairs in just one step trying to avoid a close door, trying to reach that fucking key, trying to reach the ticket of his freedom.

His fists were the first thing to bang at the door, loud and scary was the sound of Eddie's knuckles smashing against the thin wood of the door.

"open this damn door Nadia, i swear to god! this is crazy, even for you!!" the man shouted with all lungs, twisting and pulling the door knob.

"I give you the key and what? you are gonna run after my fucking daughter? MY HUSBAND AND MY DAUGHTER? What is wrong with you Eddie?" she shouted back, angrily.

"YOU!" he shouted louder, his head resting at the door while his fists slid through the cold wood of the door. He could feel all his muscles trembling inside his body, the hot anger crawling up his throat. The small hallway felt cold, felt big, felt crowded and empty at the same time, everything was turling around the man;

"I can't Nadia, I can't do it anymore, you took everything from me." he said with tremble in his voice. "My pride, my dignity... what else do you want?" His body still glued to the door, pushing with all the strength his slender body had. "I give you everything, anything you want... just let me go, please Nadia, i beg you"

"WHY HER? YOU FUCKING PSYCO! WAS IT SOME KIND OF SADISTIC REVENGE FOR THE TIME I CHEAT ON YOU?! FUCK YOU EDWARD, YOU ARE DISGUSTING." The woman opened the door, making Eddie fall inside to the bedroom's floor. "I hope you and that little whore burn in hell for all the harm and humiliation you are making me pass."

The woman walked past her (ex)husband, looking on with disdain as she dropped the key into Eddie's lap. "Tell her that she doesn't have a mother anymore". Eddie jumped up off the ground, consumed by the rage and hatred stored in his chest from so many years of abuse, his hand circled the woman's wrist, handling it like a doll, tucking her against the thin bedroom wall. "Like she ever have had a mother before that" he spad

"Leave her out of this" "Let me go your bastard" Nádia screamed full lungs now "if it weren't for her it would be anyone else who spends even a little time with me." he admitted "This was all your fault, your fault you hear me!? I tried SO hard to be who you wanted me to be…" Eddie pauses his words, thinking carefully about his next words. “I tried everything for you but in the end Nadia, any other man willing to get in your pants was better than me.”

Eddie let go of his wife's arm and walked through the living room , taking one last look at the house he called home.

Nadia remained static, pressed against the wall without any reaction. She didn't try to deny it or justify herself, she just let the tears flow as she listened to her ex-husband going down the stairs. “I will send the divorce papers, don’t worry, I don’t want NOTHING from you” . That being said, he slammed the door and turned the car on, driving as far as he can from the bad memories.

Four months, that was the time it took for Eddie to begin to act like the man Wayne always wanted him to be, he thought. In four months Eddie hasn't allowed himself to think about you, even when the fresh smell of your shampoo clung to the pillow he took the night he left.

He didn't think about you when some old car passed on the street and made the same noise as your car, he also didn't think about you on lonely nights, where he went over and over again the last time he saw you.

Eddie didn't allow himself to think about you, but it was the only thing he did outside of automatic.

Now, four months later in some other small town not so close to Indiana, Eddie was starting to feel at home again.

He got up every morning at 6 am, smoked a joint while still making coffee in his boxers, a cold shower and a cigarette before driving to tom's shop, some maintenance and oil changes, on a busy day, a flat tire perhaps...

Eddie liked the peace, the calm that this unknown city brought, it almost felt like home, almost...

Every night before going to bed, Eddie would try to occupy his mind with whatever hobby would keep him from thinking about you, strumming a few notes on his guitar, wasting time at a random bar, watching some bad movie... but as soon as his body snuggled into the mattress the tightness in his heart appeared.

The image of your pink face, flushed from crying flashed in his head, the sound of your trembling voice echoed in his ears.

He could taste the gall of your kiss burning on his lips every night before he went to sleep, Eddie's last thought before his body shut down was always you, you and where you were, if you were okay and if you thought about him as much as he thought about you.

The older man needed a new hobby, one that took longer than an evening to bore him.

"back to reading" he thought as he went through his morning routine.

Across town, you weren't doing much better than your ex-stepdad.

After that night, you drove nine hours back home, through the sea of tears that fell from your eyes.

You didn't believe that someone could die from having a broken heart but you could have sworn your whole body ached, your head was spinning and you could feel every piece of your heart breaking with every good memory that popped into your head like pop-up in a website of dubious origins.

You could understand why Eddie chose your mother.

Damn!! they've been married for years...

The most frustrating thing of all for you was that you let the fantasy go so far, "too far" you think.

The nights since then were all sleepless, you were lost in a tornado of feelings, anger, fear, hate, loneliness...

Loneliness, on nights like this you dreamed of being in the arms of your abominable stepfather.At the same time you wanted to grab the collar of that stupid leather jacket and shake it until he gave you an answer, a way out of the whole situation he helped create.

Anything to feel his touch, one last time. Between sighs and tossing and turning in bed, sleep came and took all your sadness with it.

10 AM, the warm morning sun broke down in rays as it met the windowpane, you could see specks of dust look like confetti dancing in the sunlight and instantly disappear into the icy shadow of another shelf.

The greatness of small things began to be part of your day-to-day life, the coffee smoke and the way it clouded just the left lens of your glasses, how the roof tiles creaked in the wind…

Today's distraction was an old oak floorboard right under your foot that made an irritating noise every time you made any movement. Convinced that fixing the squeaky floor was more important than actually doing your job, you didn't bother getting up to answer the gruff voice coming from the other side of the counter.

"Science fiction and fantasy?" the voice asked prolonging the last syllable of the sentence, "aisle 7, teenager left shelf and adult right, although I can't see the difference" you said and he could feel your mocking tone "a hard-ha" the voice said from further away from your counter.

You couldn't have cared less for the tone of the grumpy customer, too focused on the loose floor, well… the fixed floor now.

You pushed your cart full of boxes with new books by the corridors, this was the most anticipated moment of the week for you. Discover the new titles that will grace the shelves for the next few weeks.

Lately the task has become more and more difficult, your back started to hurt whenever you squatted down, your energy seemed to have been drained and the wobbly legs were part of the routine by this point.

Lost among the books, sorting boxes by genre and author, a forced cough diverted your attention to the back of a customer who had already gotten on your nerves. With a box in your arms you hurried to meet the tall man "Sorry sir, sometimes I get stuck on my own..." the sentence died in the back of your throat when you saw those same brown eyes already burning through your skin.

"Oh! fuck no!" you said throwing the box on the floor and running behind the nearest aisle of shelves.

Your head was spinning and the air wouldn't enter your nose, you could physically feel your throat closing with the urge to cry. Ringed fingers circled your wrist, drawing your attention back. Those big brown eyes reflecting your own expression through his glazed eyes.

No words were exchanged for a few moments, tears running freely down your face, out of shame and guilt. You tried to release your arm from his embrace "stop" he pleaded low, holding you tighter.

This just made you pull his arm away more fervently "let me go Eddie" you shouted, causing him to speak louder "I SAID , STOP", making you stop immediately, never having seen him angry.

"What the fuck? I'm not a monster, you don't need to run from me" Eddie said, letting go of your arm slowly, never taking his gaze away from yours.

"I don't know if I agree with that" you said under a sigh, making the man step closer. His perfume was just the way you remembered without the usual weed smell, hair in a loose bun and the typical work suit, you miss him.

Every part of your body was drawn to his body heat, and like a moth you found yourself orbiting in the light that was Eddie Munson in your life.

"Let's talk,'' he pleaded with his eyes, but his voice was always firm. "Let me tell you wha…" "No eddie'' you said, cutting the older man's sentence in half. “I have to go back to work."

The look in his eyes made you feel like a prey, he walked to the front door and locked it, flipping the sign to “close”.

"I'll deal with your boss later if I have to," the man's voice was gruff, sending shivers down your spine.

"So…" he said, leaning his elbows against the counter that barricaded you from him. "Let's talk?" throwing that smile of someone who knew he had won the first battle.

"Okay" you said between sighs, "but not here" you looked around the bookstore, without a soul inside "I can't lose this job" you finished the sentence with your eyes glued to the piece of paper you were fiddling with fingers.

Eddie felt a sharp pang in his heart, seeing you so vulnerable and scared like that, reminded him of that look.

The look that has haunted him for the last who knows how many days.

"Sure, sure babe, I mean…sure, yeah"

Eddie wrote down his new address on a piece of paper lying on the counter, touching his fingers to yours as he handed it to you. "What time do you close?" he asked, not looking away from your face.

You brought your hand back close to your own body quickly, pretending not to notice how his warm touch on your skin made your heart burn;

"6 pm"

"deal"

he said, turning his back and walking away without giving any explanation.

The rest of the day dragged on without you knowing if that had really happened or if it was just your mind playing another trick on you. It wouldn't be the first time.

In the first few months after he broke your heart, you saw Eddie everywhere… in the market, in the movies, between the shelves of endless books and in your deepest dreams, he was always there.

A few other customers, books lined up alphabetically bringing that kind of instant peace, the rumble of cars driving down the busy avenue and soon the sun had almost gone down.

You followed your routine religiously, as if a certain metalhead didn't exist, like you had all these months.

5:20 pm You put on your jacket and took your hair out of the bun that trapped the blood circulation in your head.

5:30 pm You turned off all the lights and turned off the computers one by one. adjusting the chairs and some magazines in the children's area.

5:50 pm you played with the paper that your stepfather gave you, you looked in the mirror, fat tears ran down your tired face, remembering everything you went through because of such a forbidden love, deciding that you would not go through with it again, deciding to go home. Nothing he could possibly say would change the course of this whole situation.

6:10 pm three blocks away from your work, walking through that freezing early evening wind making the sensitive skin of your face flush and all the lights turning into rays by the refraction of your tears, making it even more difficult to see ...

The familiar roar of Eddie's pick-up engine rumbling caused you to stop in your tracks, the weight of his ringed hand was what made you turn around, looking directly into those deep brown eyes for the first time since back that night.

"Sorry I'm late, sweetheart", his husky voice snapped you out of your trance, everything in that moment happened slowly, his hand guiding you to the passenger side of his pick-up, the warmth of his touch radiating down your waist everytime he squeezed your exposed skin, the smell of his perfume making you feel dizzy, the soft skin of his tattooed forearms against your cleavage as he fastened your seat belt.

The music faded in the background as Eddie drove down the small town's dimly lit road, pulling deeper and deeper into the outer part of town, stopping in a clearing that could see all the lights of the small town. He turned off the car and sighed deeply, before going down and opening the door for you

"I..I thought a neutral place would make you feel more comfortable but halfway I realized it wasn't such a good idea a...neutral place like… that" he said in a sheepish tone.

Nothing, no reaction, not bewilderment or relief or anything, nothing was what you offered the older man. Seeing that he couldn't even make a crack in the wall you created against him, Eddie decided to get straight to the point.

The city lights made his jacket buttons glow in a yellowish hue, the same hue made his eyes burn whenever your gazes met.

"Vulnerable" he thought when he saw your figure huddled in on itself whenever the wind blew a little colder.

"I fucked up" he said over a sigh "I know I fucked it up", his work boots squeaked against the stony ground, with each step he took towards you "I know I have no rights to ask you anything" he stopped in front of you, his hands slid over your crossed arms, causing your posture to relax a little and tense up even more a mere seconds later.

You thought about saying how much harm he did to you, you wanted to say that he broke your heart so badly that you could feel every day the physical effects that broken heart caused you.

You wanted to say that he ruined everyone else for you, that no one made the butterflies in your stomach fly as high as he did, that you couldn't trust anyone anymore because you were afraid that in the end you would be sent away again and again, just like he did, but you stayed quiet.

The months of remorse and rehearsed lines were silent when noticing the wet glint in the older man's eyes, he squeezed your arm lightly, trying to get your attention, without success. "I'm so sorry sweetheart"

"I" you started the sentence as a whisper, months thinking about what you would say and here you were, holding on so you wouldn't sink into the arms of the man who hurt you so badly "I can't do this Eddie, you hurted me so much"

your trembling voice betrayed you, it was SO hard to say it as was for the older man to hear such harsh words coming out of your sweet mouth.

"Please. let me fix things"

Your gaze never met his, not on purpose at least. It was too humiliating, too painful to look at him. It had been months since his face haunted all your dreams, you lost several nights of sleep wondering what you would say when you were facing him again.

Eddie's hand was now caressing your cheek, wiping away the tears you were reluctant to let fall "I know I don't deserve your forgiveness, but I didn't know what to do at the time, I panicked" , his hand tightened on your hoodie sleeve, as if you were going to bolt at any moment.

"Please. let me fix things" he said, pulling your body closer to his, "I left her" he said, still moving your bodies closer together "on the same day, I mean" he said with his eyes glued on the floor, avoiding your expression of confusion.

“I wanted to apologize on the same day, that look you gave me... damn love, I can't get the way you looked at me out of my head"

"Eddie, take me home please" you cried

"Babe, please I..."

"Please eddie" you managed to speak between your cries, he just nodded.

The drive back to your small apartment was silent, except for sniffles from both you and the older man. Only the porch light illuminated the great darkness around your house, before going out of the car, you looked one last time at the man

"You know, eddie" making his eyes stick to yours, without a shred of hope “I could've forgiven you, if you had come after me,at all, you never came”, you could no longer control what you are feeling, it was a self-control that you still didn't have, the words were curling up in a high tone that you started screaming at him

"You let me think I was just a FUCKTOY to you, that I was a WHORE for…"

you sobbed "For loving you, and believing that deep inside your black soul, you cared about me either, and I was ok with it, I’m SO stupid" you said jumping out of the parked car without saying goodbye.

Your keys jingled against the locked door ‘cause of your trembling hands.

You just wanted to get inside your house and escape that nightmare. The sound of the door unlocking brought you relief, so focused on getting out of the cold air, you didn't hear Eddie's car door slam shut, the quick steps against the dew-wet grass, the labored breathing as if he had forgotten how to do it.

You opened your door enough for your body to fit through the gap, Eddie's heavy hand opened the door all the way, pressing you against it as he closed "What did you say?" his face contorted.

Hands pinning you against the wall, blurred vision due to tears prevented you from seeing the pained face of that man who held you as if his life depended on it "What did you just say? please sweetheart"

his hands let go of your arm, you knew his fingerprints would be all over your sensitive skin the other day

"I... I could have forgiven you if, if you"

you started to say still choking on the words

"Not that, not that part" he interrupted you

"oh..i said i said… it doesn’t matter what I said anymore” your voice sounds weak on the older man’s ears “you’re losing her again Munson” “look at her eyes, is the same look as that fucking day” “you’re losing her, you’re gonna lose her again, man up man up man up, shit shit shit”,

Eddie's thoughts were running in circles in his head, he was scared, frustrated, nervous...the words were out of his mouth before he realized what he said. His eyes widened, you could feel your mouth going dry, your knees were shaking and you could pass out at any moment “I loved you”, he said softly “I still do”.

You could feel the older man's slight discomfort as he let those words slip out, the vulnerability caused Eddie Munson physical pain but he decided you deserved to know how much he missed you too, how much he thought of you every day, how he searched for you through every town he passed.

He knew you lived nine hours away from the house of horrors, but he didn't know which city, which state... so for months he searched for you to no avail, and as a sick joke of the universe, when he stopped looking for you... the universe sends you with your cute glasses and ponytail holding a box of several copies of lord of the rings, so for this gift from the universe, for you, Eddie has decided to be vulnerable.

Eddie decided to be vulnerable.

"I know you felt it too" he said in a broken voice, your heart shattered knowing exactly what he was talking about "Before it happened..before Nadia walked into the kitchen" the man walked across the room from your grip as if he already frequented your house for years, stopping at the window and lighting a cigarette, inhaling deeply before continuing.

"We made love" his voice shook when pronouncing the word love.

The word that hadn't been part of Eddie's vocabulary for months, used so many times in the short time you've been around "I know you felt it too, i know you did" he swallowed again, resting his free hand on the window sill, his curls making a curtain , hiding the tears that shyly rolled down Eddie's icy face.

"Damn, I never felt whole again after that day" he threw his cigarette butt out the window "I love you, I loved you that day and I still do." The eyes that avoided yours at all costs now burned holes into your skin "say something babe, anything" he begged with a trembling voice.

“Fuck it” you said.

Your steps started slow and evolved into a run towards the older man, in a jump your legs passed by his waist, while you held the man's face with both hands, as if he were the most precious treasure in the world, your eyes filled with tears. matched yours.

The little lines at the edges of Eddie's eyes crinkled as he smiled. Kissing him was awkward, her forehead meeting her forehead harder than intended, nose brushing his, lips hurried and hungry chasing his "I've missed you so much, beautiful." He whispered every time their lips met in awkward kisses.

His shirt rose a little more each time his ex-stepfather's hands explored a part of his body that had not been touched for so long, that trembled for him.

His hands trailed down your exposed skin to your hips, giving you enough security to step off his lap. Eddie's lips traveled down to your neck, sucking your pulse between his teeth, leaving galaxy marks across your sensitive skin. "I missed those little noises you make for me…just for me, right?" his possessive tone made a puddle of excitement in your panties, you could only moan in response "good girl" he said. You could feel his smile against your exposed neck.

Eddie guided your bodies to the sofa, sitting down and pulling you onto his lap.

You could feel his erection pressed against your thigh, he could feel the heat radiating from his crotch causing the older man's heavy hands to press you against his hard cock.

"Fuck" he whispered as you rubbed your desperate little pussy on the man below you "Eddie...please, need more"

"oh! poor little thing" he laid his back gently on the sofa "so needy for daddy" he rolled his hips against yours causing you to moan desperately "please Eddie I miss you so much" he got between your legs open, forcing his cock against her wet lips "Please what girl? Use your words for Daddy, will you?" his mouth trailed kisses down the plumpness of her breast, nibbling her nipple through her thin T-shirt.

"I want you to make me feel good daddy please" your hips ground into Eddie's thigh causing delicious friction where you need it most "So desperate for my cock" the man's hands gripped tightly around your waist helping you to build up a rhythm until you’re moaning in his ear just from rubbing your covered pussy against him.

"I can't wait to fuck that little pussy of yours," he said, pressing his lips to yours. He kissed you so deep and slow you saw stars every time his tongue slid over yours, Eddie had a lot of addictions and he just found the most intoxicating one of them all:Your taste.

Your hands roamed the broad back of the man you dreamed of so many nights, Eddie's thin waist served as a passage for your hands to reach the man's chest, which was hitting hard against your soft hand "are you sure ‘bout it, baby girl?" the low voice at the foot of your ear brought you back to reality.

All of reality and the burdens of such a forbidden romance started to fall on your back, like a piñata you could feel your heart being crushed by the harsh and sad reality again.

you were about to turn your back and run as far as you could , when the older man's gentle hand cupped your face, bringing your gaze and full attention to him "Because if you're… you’re sure, I'll never let you slip through my fingers again"

Eddie's eyes never left your face, time passed slowly as your head spun around the words he so passionately offered you "I will never let you slip through my fingers again".

Your fingers tentatively tucked some of his curls behind his ear, "so pretty", you said as your hand brought the man's face closer to yours.

Spellbound by your touch, he relinquished his power to you, tired of fighting the urge to be yours.

Your lips lightly brushed against his, testing to what extent the command was truly you.

Your full lips kissed Eddie tenderly, asking for more access each time he deepened the kiss. Eddie's hands, once rigid on your body, now caressed you with love.

The kiss was without prey, unlike all the others you've had. Your hands caressed his face and he embraced you.

Eddie was a mess underneath you, his hands were everywhere and nowhere at the same time. The man was afraid it was another one of the dreams he's had all these months and that you were going to run away from him at any moment.

"Can I take care of you, Daddy?" you asked in your sweetest voice, his adam's apple bobbed up and down as if he was swallowing the words before answering you "you...you don't have to" he said, admiring you on your knees in front of him, eyes almost begging for Eddie's dick. "please daddy i missed him"

Your fingers wandered through the zipper of the Man's pants, squeezing his erect member every now and then, drawing hisses from his mouth. You didn't wait for him to answer, letting his pants fall free to the floor.

Your icy hands on Eddie's warm skin made him shiver as you slowly ran your fingers through the man's leg hair to the waistband of his boxers, pulling them down at the same speed "fuck, you are so big daddy" , you said jerking off the length of his cock, giving light cat licks in his tip, tasting all his precum.

"Oh! fuck. No teasing doll" he would mutter as you played with the tip of his cock, alternating between licking and sucking. His eyes were glazed over your face, "you are so pretty with your mouth full" he said, taking his hand to your hair, stroking it "my pretty girl" hand now behind your skull, fingers pressing your head against his extremely hard member.

“shhh, i know i know, you can take it, open wide for me baby” he slam his dick further down your trough, you whined around his big cock while he fuck your mouth in such delicious way. “oh! fuckfuckfuck” his contorted face made your thighs clenching together “such a good girl for me” his hands holding firmly around your neck, he could feel his bulge on the beginning of your throat with his thumbs.

He pulled his dick out of your mouth still circling the tip around your rosy plush lips. Your cunt was aching, screaming for attention from the man who had you in his palms.

“Please, please daddy, i need more” you cried, already cock drunk, all dumb and needy and Eddie loved it.

Eddie stroked your face and smirked "look at you" he pinched your face lightly "all dumb for my dick" he forced your mouth into a pout, forcing your lips open and spitting into your mouth "swallow" he said , the demanding tone in his voice had you moaning low before swallowing, "such a good girl for me, a little bitch who needs daddy's dick."

Eddie pulled you up, gently sitting you down on the couch.

"Daddy" you almost cried for the absence of his touch "shh shh shh, daddy is here now" he kissed your neck "I'll take care of you" his hands grabbed your body, slowly kneeling down in front of you.

He pulled some of his hair back into a loose bun, placing several kisses on your inner thigh, the heat in the pit of your belly increasing each kiss closer to her center. He sniffed your pussy over your panties "I missed your smell baby girl" he said before ripping off your panties like a wild animal.

He sank his full lips to your pussy, placing several kisses before sinking his tongue between your folds, collecting all the arousal on the tip of his tongue. Your hands scrambled through Eddie's curls, forcing his face against you "fuck daddy, just like that".

Eddie sucked your clit frantically, eliciting the most beautiful moans from your mouth, his eyes rolled back when you felt the first finger enter your tight hole, entering easily with the second finger "fuck, you’re so tight sweet angel" he said between sucks on your clit, "that's...to much daddy, I'm going to come" you moaned rubbing your pussy desperately on the older man's face

"Do that, cum all over my face" he praised you while increasing the pace of his finger thrusts, "cum for me princess, give it all to me", you pulled Eddie's hair hard, pulling him away from your pussy swollen, feeling the orgasm washing over your body.

Eddie took his fingers out of your tight pussy slowly, bringing them to his mouth lapping up all your juices before giving you the deepest kiss you'd ever shared, you could taste your sweet on the man's tongue.

Despite your wobbly legs, you kneel down in front of the man. Two of your hands went up his thigh until they reached the zipper of his pants "what are you doing, honey?" he asked, bringing his callused hands up to your face, forcing your gaze into his "returning the favor" you said weakly.

Eddie's fingers circled your lips, forcing his thumb inside your mouth "as much as I miss that mouth of yours" he removed his finger causing a "pop" noise from your lips "I need to be inside you".

In one movement he pulled you off the floor and laid you down on the couch again, quickly undoing his pants and boxers. You could feel Eddie's hard cock against your soft skin, his mouth attacking your neck and cleavage "can I take that off you?" he said holding the hem of your shirt, you just nodded and he pulled the shirt tight, leaving your perfect breasts exposed to him.

He watched your figure for a few minutes, admiring every part of your body completely exposed. "Look at you" he whispered contouring your body with his fingertips "so beautiful for me", you felt your cheek burning at the same intensity as your center burned.

"Please Daddy" you begged.

Eddie forced himself between your legs, spreading them gently with his hand on your knee. With his free hand he jerked his length, collecting your arousal with the pink head of his cock.

He slowly thrust inch by inch of thick cock inside your pussy, the sensation of enlargement was deliciously burning your walls, once all inside you, Eddie let out a brutal moan "oh! holly...mother of god fuckfuck", the man's lack of movement had you buckle your hips against his cock "greedy, huh?"

He started to fuck you, his body all over yours, your world felt complete with you connected.

His cock slowly fucked you as Eddie whispered sweet nothings in your ear. You became a puddle in the hand of the man who months ago broke your heart.

His cock assaulted your little hole with fervor. you could feel the head of his cock opening your walls, creating space to accommodate his thick cock. You could feel it, just like that night, Eddie was making love to you.

No rush or fear of someone opening the door, and for that moment, that love didn't seem so forbidden. He pulled you out of your thoughts with his thumb on your clit, massaging in the same rhythm as he was fucking you "cum for me again baby I know you can" he kept abusing you until you smeared his cock all over with your cum "fuck, hot as fuck" he worshiped you as he fucked you for your orgasm.

Eddie sat on the couch and pulled you onto his lap, your back against his sweaty chest.

He kissed your neck and nibbled lovingly "Do you want to return the favor, baby girl?" he whispered in your ear, you stupidly agreed, "sit on daddy's cock" he guided you to his cock by the waist "make daddy cum" and sunk your pussy into his cock.

You moaned loudly, starting to sit awkwardly on your ex-stepdad's cock trying to adjust the position, looking for more support.

He held you by the waist giving you all the support you needed to fuck your pussy on his dick, Eddie was already a mess underneath you "where...where can I come?" he cooed "inside I want to feel you oozing please daddy" you sat more fervently as he writhed trying not to come yet "fill my pussy with cum daddy" you kept begging.

Eddie slammed into you, spilling all of your mingled fluid down his quivering thigh.

You settled into the older man's lap, hissing as his cock left a void in his pussy.

You held his face with both hands, in a tender way. His eyes examined every mole, every wrinkle on the face of the man who had his heart full. Dipped in those brown pools that were Eddie's eyes "I love you" you said, Eddie just kissed you back "I'll never get tired of hearing that".

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peachedtv · 1 year

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Re-Fucking-Venge

﹂ Yandere!Dabi x Nurse!Reader ‘Come dance with me in hell, won’t you, Father?’ And boy did Dabi fucking mean it. Poor little you to have been his next ledge to mindfuck his father to shards.

﹂Genre: angst, toxic relationship, slow burn, 18+

﹂ Warnings: AFAB, female pronouns, Kidnapping, non-sexual hair pulling, paralysis, angst, drugging, profanity, descriptions of panic attacks, violence, slight horror, insults, broken family dynamic (both Dabi [duh] and reader's),

﹂ WC: 6.67k

﹂ From Redact: this will be continued! My motivation sucks so I'll try to promise a regular schedule.. I first posted this story at 2k words, then kept editing back to get it up to 6.67k, so I'm reposting it to let the people see the final copy incase yk. If you wanna be on a taglist tell me !!! I'd love to have one

Honestly, everything's turned into a fucking mess.

After the absolute devastation of Dabi’s theatrical exposing of Endeavour, your workplace was swarmed by furious citizens and questioning paparazzi. They were angry. So fucking angry. Angry for the fact that Endeavour had such cruel impositions on his children, angry that his actions caused the root of such a murderous villain, and angry at the fall of heroes being ironically unheroic. Day or night, their anger wouldn’t stop. The continuous flashing lights of cameras, the synchronized yelling, and the fists that shook in the air. With the mantra of harassment towards your hospital, one would think you’re caring for number one himself—the one Dabi framed as the center point for his villainous roots, the one who did most of the hurting. But, no. You weren’t caring for Endeavour. You were the main nurse for his wife, Rei. And that's what truly ticked your soul.

It absolutely baffled you. Why were such a mantra of citizens harassing a regular person? Can’t they properly think that if Dabi’s speech pointed at Endeavour, it’s mainly Endeavour’s doing? Article after article, you started to understand that many hard-luck Endeavour fans were convinced that the abuse Dabi had forsaken was all Rei’s fault.

‘She’s manipulative.’

‘What a fucking gold digger.’

‘No wonder Endeavour had to take out his anger on his children.’

Yet who was the one in psychiatric care? Are these people truly blind to the obvious victim here? It made your blood boil.

You kept Rei under your loving care for years. As someone who had their own fucked up family situation, you felt for her since her admission oh so many years ago. You knew who she truly was, and so, it made you enraged that these strangers yelled at her as though they’d known her all their ignorant lives. As if they had the entire situation figured out when even Endeavour had his own twisted narration of what happened. People believe what they want to believe, and you began to understand that. People protect what and who they wish to protect. It did not matter how morphed and wicked the twists on their perceptions may be—as long as they can justify themselves. As long as they can justify the wrong.

And so, here, Rei was not the object of the crowd’s protection. She was the embodiment of their malformed justifications. The receiver of their hatred, the one to hear the garbage and clunk of cans thrown against her window.

It’s during a time like this that you’re truly brought back. Brought back to the Rei who first arrived. The Rei who was constantly in a fight or flight response. For the first few weeks of her stay, she wore a horrid expression of absolute dread. Her eyes truly had no spark, and her body felt empty of any soul. She always looked down, her chin tucked near her chest as she zoned out into a singular corner of her room. Many of the doctors and nurses complained to the head, saying she was too much for our hospital to handle. Whenever someone merely grazed her arm while cleaning her room, she would scream out in horror—thrashing about as tears threatened to spill from her eyes. Thus, when nurse after nurse had quit being her caretaker, finally you came up to the chopping block, and you had heard a lot about her. Of course, none of which was positive.

‘She’s fucking insane.’

‘That woman makes me want to quit.’

‘Thank god I got switched out.’

‘Goodluck, Y/N, you’ll need it.’

When you first saw her, the barrier you had about yourself slipped. No, you didn’t see a manic woman, nor did you see some form of a psycho. What you saw, mesmerized you. You were entranced. She was truly beautiful. Her white hair gently framed her face, while the sunlight in her room had a cold, blue hue, that you didn’t feel was present anywhere else in the hospital. She had the aura of an apathetic beauty, a flower that was plucked - for even wilting roses had their charm. Her eyes, though, those wonderful eyes. You could tell her deep irises once held the spark of happiness, the spark of hope and care. Yet now, her eyelids hung low, dark circles beneath her lids dragging her visage lower, and her posture as an enervated slouch. It was in that moment when you first laid eyes on her did you truly see who was deep inside the shell of her abused being. She brought you back, brought you back to who you easily could have become—shown you who you would’ve been had you not fought tooth and nail against your resolves. And so, determination flared inside of you. You will help her. You will bring back her spark. No one should fight so alone against something a crowd can’t handle. Thus, even if you’re the only one by her side, you will still be there.

It had taken a couple of months for you to barely disarm her violently defensive walls, but you managed. You always knocked on her door before entering, peering through before stepping into the room. You set up a small stool by her bedside, and every time you came to her you would sit down before getting to your medicinal caretaking. You’d smile, greet her warmly, and tell her silly stories about your day. Tales of the warm old man across the hall, of those pesky UA kids that couldn’t help but fight a little too hard for others. You would go into detail after detail, eyes dancing across the empty walls as you lightly laughed at the memories or clicked your tongue at some of the peskier ones. Although she never responded, you made sure to speak to her every single time.

Furthermore, you were careful, you truly wanted the best for your patients, and she is no different. You were careful when you delicately held the flowers’ stems as you poured in fresh water. You were careful when you gently told her everything you would care for before doing it. ‘I’ll be checking your heart rate, is that okay?’ You’d smile, not even grazing her arm before a sign of confirmation. And it was these careful things you did for Rei that truly made her love you too. Soon, she began to speak. Her voice was delicate and raspy, as she hadn’t used her vocals in such a long time. But still, you smiled at her. Tears welling in the corners of your eyes as you listened to her very first request for a glass of water. Progress is progress. And you were determined to continue it.

From her vaguely written patient file, you had an idea that her husband was the main factor in her descent into your care. But, you were horrified once Rei trusted you enough to spill her heart's deepest sorrows—all caused by her husband. She cried, and oh how her tears fell so quietly it shattered a piece of you that you didn’t know was there. After she began giving you one-worded answers, to replying in whole sentences, her walls soon came down and a woman desperate for help and comfort revealed herself. It broke your heart remembering the number of overtime shifts you’ve spent merely hugging her while she gripped your scrubs. Her arms desperately clinging to you for any minuscule support, her body trembling in the fear that you’ll give up and leave her just as the other nurses did. Those silent tears fell, her muffled cries making you wish you could take away her pain if only for a minute. Every night, that was the scene between you two. And every night, flashbacks of her husband’s cruel words yelled at her from the silence only she could hear. Not only as a nurse, but as a human being, you truly cared. And Rei could feel that sincerity, thus, you two grew close.

Even after Rei exponentially improved, you still tried your best to give her some kind of comfort she could cling to in the emptiness of the hospital’s blank walls. You were so proud of her. She came so, so far in her healing process. And your soul smiled at the thought of her gentle nod whenever you entered her room—she had the misfortune of a hundred lives, and didn’t deserve a single crumb more of difficulties.

So why did fate have the tv running that day?

You ran to her room, the blaring of her EKG racing your mind with worry. It had been long, too long, since her heart raced so. You had gotten used to her health, to her improved state, so how the hell did this happen? When you burst through the door, Rei was slumped on the ground with her hand clawing into her chest as she hyperventilated, her eyes wildly ajarred as her gaze stuck to the screen with tears swelling the corner of her ducts as her lips fell apart in these broken attempts of communication.

'-was born as the eldest son of Endeavour.'

‘Rei! Breathe, breathe, I’m right here for you. Please, what happened?’ You held her comfortingly, rubbing your palm in circular motions upon her back. God, how did this happen? Sorrow wretched your soul when she began to cry harder, frantically looking from the floor before her and the screen upon the tv. She shoved you away with as much force her could muster, you stumbled slightly back, in absolute shock. It had been a while since Rei had a any miniuscle of violence in her outbursts—let alone having an outburst in the first place, and it broke your heart to wonder why it was happening. You could tell her conciousness was slipping from the rapid breaths she choked to take, how her movements became more sluggish. She began to scream, her hands tangling into the hair on the side of her head as she knelt with her face to her knees. You reached into a nearby cabinet, taking a deep breath as you thrashed around the contents until your fingers wrapped about a minor sedative. It pained you, you haven’t had to go to such measures in so long. Your hand firmly on her shoulder, you told her everything was going to be alright before injecting the sedative and keeping your comforting words.

'I was created for my father's selfish dream.'

‘It’s okay, I’m right here. Don’t worry about a thing, Rei.’ You spoke gently, and her eyelids began weighing down to shut, before she looked deep into your eyes and whispered: ‘T-tell him I’m sorry.’ Your eyes followed her as she tried to look towards the tv. Upon the screen, a man was sitting upon a vintage couch. Throughout his body, horrid patches of purple plastered his skin, barely holding onto his stature with the use of staples, you could see the dip in his surviving skin and the bruised purple from the awful staple job on his body. It looked so painful your skin tingled in discomfort. With such a blatantly iconic look, how could you not recognize the man himself? Dabi. His hair was a messy black, his chin picked up toward the camera, and a darkened gaze of determination and resentment filled his eyes—a stare that would pierce the soul of any viewer.

'-my father would force my mother to give birth to more off-spring.'

How long had his voice been playing in the background? You stared, stared at the TV. You listened, listened to Dabi apathetically recall every horrifying detail Endeavour put his pitiful children through. The same details that had you shaken to insomnia at night when you first heard it through Rei's exasperated cries during her mental break downs. It was awful, Endeavour's actions were horrid. The neglect, the abuse, his cold demeanour, hearing both Rei and now Dabi recount those awful memories made you realize just how cold the air about you became as well - a sudden contrast as though your physical environment darkened from the heavy words Dabi spoke out about. You felt their pain, but you know you could never truly understand it. Not until you had gone through something the exact same, and even then, everyone processes trauma differently. Thus, empathy is such a golden key. The very key that had your shocked visage brim with tears. There wasn't a hint of pain in Dabi's voice, not yet, at least. Yet, you knew that years before, and deep inside his battered body, Touya was will trapped. Crying, begging, trying to crawl his way out. You saw a reflection of Rei in Dabi. The reflection of someone who was in pain but built these sky-high walls to hide any form of vulnerability.

‘Using the blood Endeavour left at the fight in Kyushu,’ his hand propping up a document, ‘there was a 99.99% match.’

Truly, it took a while to understand what you heard. Your eyes carefully traced the screen, ears perked up in denial as Dabi described every moment that Rei had described to you. Endeavour, the pain, the abuse, the screaming, the yelling. He recalled it with an absent look of apathy glazed across his face. His eyes reflecting that of an apathetic beauty. A look you recognized from the Rei who first walked into your care. If it weren’t for his unforgiving injuries, he would have been a splitting image of his mother. As you gazed upon his grotesque features, his lips mouthed the same name of the son who Rei prayed so desparately for the return of.

Yet you don’t think her prayers were answered in the best way.

You stared holes into that screen, watching his careful movements, scanning the paper Dabi held in his hands, as you watched his mouth moved it was in that moment that you realized you couldn’t hear. A ringing was blaring in your head as the only sensory you had left was that of sight. Your vision tunnelled, the sides of your perception clouding into black as you silently watched Dabi continue to expose that wretched hero who caused his dear family such tremendous misfortune. Dabi was the same Touya Rei cried to you with gulit over for all these years. The same Touya whos only remains found was a jawbone from the burning forest he died in. The same Touya who fell apart for the sake of his father’s dreams.

How isn’t he dead? It didn’t make any sense. His jaw, how was his jaw found without the rest of him? How had it come off? How did he survive the temperature of those flames being enough to cremate someone alive? Your eyes watched the screen, watched Dabi’s speech continue, that ringing spiking a headache of throbbing pain. Nothing made any sense. And you put your everything into focusing upon the scarred man on the screen so why did this have to happen? Rei was doing so well, it’s not fair, why did this have to happen? She doesnt deserve this to happen she had trued so fucking much. She didn’t deserve this, she was barely healed–

‘Miss Y/N! Is Mrs. Todoroki okay?’

Your coworker’s voice snapped you back into reality, and you stammered an apology before carefully placing Rei into her bed and turning off the tv with shaking hands. From the expression on your coworker’s face, you could tell they saw the footage aswell, their eyes nervously tracing to the ajarred cabinet door to the sedatives, understanding the regress in Rei’s stability from this entire situation.

Sadly, Rei’s instability wasn’t as fleeting as you had hoped. It didn’t take long for Rei to fall apart into the hole she fought so hard to climb out of. With the mantra of angered ex-Endeavor fans accusing her of child abuse, along with the constant paparazzi that flashed bright lights toward her window and posted her tear-struck face all over tabloids, you couldn’t blame her. For days after the incident, you refused to sleep. Staying by her side as she couldn’t rest at all. Although a hospital never sleeps, it still quiets at twilight. But no, not anymore. For even night didn’t tire the fucking protestors. They screamed out, police desparately trying to control the situation, although they were smart. Hugging the gates, not actually on the property of the hospital. Thus, the police couldn’t pull any legalities on them.

You never left the hospital anymore, every break and after your shifts, you would sit at Rei’s bedside. The aura was both somber and panicked, darkened with the occational sniffles and choked sobs of Rei’s rasped voice. Unlike the usual, you did not speak. You knew the voices in her head had come back now, and if you added your own, Rei wouldn’t be able to hold out any better than she already is. So, the only thing you knew to do was to never leave her alone, and her arms never left your back. You held her in an embrace every night, neither of you sleeping, neither of you talking. Slowly, she began to loosen her hold, gently sleeping a couple minutes a night with her chin resting on your shoulder. Your heart lit with hope, glad she could finally sleep a wink. Before long, she was truly able to fall into a decent slumber, her body resting against yours for a couple hours before she would gasp awake. Slowly but surely, improvement had come. And once Rei’s sleep schedule returned to some extent, you traveled back home to your apartment for the first time in over a week to gather your own well-deserved rest.

You wish you could say your return brought some comfort to you. But truly, the silence was eerie to say the least. Your mind was still worried. Worried that Rei would wake up in the middle of the night, all alone without you there. A part of you missed her already, but your boss became truly worried for your health after the bags under your eyes darkened into a bruise like hue. She demanded you at least go home for a night, and you relented. Truly, your body was giving up, and you needed the rest too.

Your keys twisted inside the lock as you pushed the door open, a familiar creak welcoming you back. You did not feel very welcome. The air was a piercing cold, with all the lights in your apartment off. The fact that it was late into the night did not help, with both an absence of light in your home and no twinkling stars to gaze upon. Everything was pure dark. You sighed, dumping your bag lazily by the door as you kicked off your shoes, taking heavy steps toward your room when you stopped. You stood still, so, so still. From the crack below your closed bedroom door, light bled into the dark hallway. You were scared, truly. You never leave the lights on before leaving, so what was happening here..? Why were the lights on?

A sense of dread filled your body, and you listened carefully. Nothing. No rummaging, no gentle thumps of someone’s steps, just the rays of light dauntingly brightening the floorboards and that white noise of ventilation. Quietly, you walked backward toward the front door, taking shaky breaths as your lungs quivered. You should’ve stayed with Rei. You shouldn’t have come. With how little sleep you had gotten, your mind felt as though you were floating. And obviously, you struggled to form any kind of rational thought about your current predicament. Despite that, you did have one thought. The thought that you must leave. Immediately. You didn’t care for your belongings, your jacket, nor your shoes and keys. All you cared for was to get the fuck out.

Every pore on the wall felt as though an eye was peering through, watching your pathetically fearful movements. Shivers spiked down your spine and every dark crack of any open door had an imagined silhouette peering through, faces tauntingly smiling to you through the dark. You were panicking.

Your hand gripped the knob, turning it slowly to stiffle it’s persistent creaks before you flung open the door to bolt outside. Your mind raced, breath hitching as steps slapped upon the cement. As you approached a corner, you turned your head back as you kept running—fully expecting the door to fly open and a figure to chase behind you. You couldn’t imagine why you had to have some burglary occur. You didn’t live in an exceptionally poor or rich area, and there were blatant security cameras throughout the building. The more you watched your back, the more you felt a little silly. Nothing came, and you nearly slowed down your bolt as a light chuckle of relief fell before your mouth. You’re safe, your apartment was safe. There’s no threat in your room, obviously, you must’ve forgotten to turn off the lights. You turned the corner as your bolt slowed into a jog. Yet, your momentary relief was short-lived the moment you roughly crashed into something in front of you.

You fell back, falling hard onto your ass with your palms scraping against the unforgiving texture of the floor. Gravel stung, digging into your open skid marks. Athough, that pain was nothing compared to the strike fear over who stood before you.

The very man upon your tv screen those days before.

The very man who single-handedly wrecked the top two heroes.

Dabi.

He looked down at you, a sickened gaze and smirk plastered over his graphic features. He looked manic, and he was manic. The way he demeaningly leaned down to you, hands dug deep into the pockets of his black slacks, the way he cocked his head to the side, it all made your throat starkly dry.

‘Why the long face, Y/N?’ You internally gagged, your name sounded so vile on his tongue, in the way his face stared at you with hatred. How does he know your name? What does he want? You stared up at him speechlessly, your jaw falling silent and eyes dropping wide with horror. Your mind raced in confusion. Jumping from one false hope to another, trying to relieve your fear that you might not survive this encounter. Your only connection with Dabi was as the nurse of his mother, was he extrapolating some revenge against her? But why? Endeavour had been the main perpetrator of the abuse, so why are you being dragged into this so mercilessly? You couldn’t think clearly, but you did know one thing. Both of you well knew Rei had barely anything to do with the harm Touya had endured. Yet, here he was. Newly born as Dabi, as the Dabi who stared down at you as though you coddled his worst enemy your whole life.

His hand shot toward your collar, the fabric ripping at certain ends from the sheer force he used to drag you closer to his face. Your hands grappled at his wrist, fingertips digging into his hand before your force hesitated when you latched right onto his staples. You were scared. You were really, really scared. The way his smile grew wider in response to those pathetic tears that welled in your eyes, the way he held you so tightly your windpipe felt as though it was burning in pain. You felt misjudged. Thrown into an undeserving cruelty that you hadn’t even sinned enough to deserve. But obviously, why would a villain care about whether or not you deserved their violence?

‘Why are you so scared? I’m only here to thank you.’ He quirked, eyes wide as he laughed at your pathetic expressions of fear and struggle. ‘You won't die, so don’t be too dramatic.’ He smiled, yet, you didn’t feel comforted. Heck, a part of you here realized how much you wish you could’ve died at this moment. Was living through whatever he was about to put you through better than hell itself?

‘You took care of my dear old mom ever since I left, comforting her all those nights, helping her recover from Mr. Number One.’ His grip tightened, your collar bunching up into his palms, harshly wheezing your throat as you struggled to breathe. You knew no amount of fighting back was going to drain him down to stop. Dabi had you stood completely upright, right up on the tip of your toes as he held the majority of your body weight up by your neck, still leaning forward to truly yell into your face. Even without the threat of his quirk, you’d never stand a fucking chance against him with how he towers over you. You could tell of the venom Dabi had in his recalling of your care as his mother’s nurse, his pupils dialating in fury. Had he felt things were unfair? That he hadn’t had the help Rei needed when he felt so much worse? You tried to be empathetic, trying to find a way so you could make it out alive. But the more Dabi tightened his hold on you, the more you realized you wouldn’t be getting out of this unscathed—far from it, actually.

‘I’m here to repay you. You know? You spent so many years caring for her, so I’ll repay your act of kindness.’ His voice dripped in sarcasm, venom seeping through as his spat out to you right in your face. Suddenly, his expression morphed, his smile churning so wide the staples holding his smile together began to rip at the corners of his mouth. ‘You know, that stupid woman isn’t the angel you keep treating her to be. Haven’t you seen little Shoto Todoroki? How do you think that scar on his precious face came to be?’ Your breath hitched as his grip tightened, your throat completely wrenched into his lone palm as heat began radiating through his fingers. Don’t listen to him, you told yourself. Rei messed up. She’s wasn’t the best mother. But no one helped her victim until she became the abuser. Shoto didn’t deserve that, neither did Rei deserve the cruelities of Endeavour, and nor did Touya deserve a crumb of the pressure he underwent. Can’t he understand that nearly everyone in this situation is some form of a victim? You felt frustrated trying to hold your tongue back against this man. He was blinded by rage, a rage that began rationally and morphed into something villianously sinister. It made you feel frustrated. He pitied himself too much. Everyone was struggling, Shoto and Rei too, so why was he so upset with you helping someone who needed to be helped?

‘You people disgust me. You save whoever the fuck you want, but leave the people who really need it out to burn up in a forest.’ You shook your head, shutting your eyes tightly in denial to his cruel accusations. You wanted to yell. Yell how stupid his words were, how tunnelled his thinking was. Dabi is being selfish. Yet, despite your anger, you were still striken with fear. You understood you were in no place to speak your mind, yet your words just spilled out in a frenzy.

‘You’re so linear.’ You said shakily, furrowing your eyebrows and trying to wrench your windpipe out of his grip so you could just barely breathe. ‘Rei was hurt too, she’s n-no angel, but she’s not such a demon either.’ You spoke quietly, but considered how you were choked up into the air it was remarkably impressive you could even get a peep out. Dabi seemed to only become amused, an upset form of amusement. Tears streamed down your cheeks, mainly from the physical agnoy, but moreso now that his palm began to luminate blue and heat up.

You were going to die over your fat tongue.

Your crying only seeming to fuel him even more as his smile ripped even wider. ‘I’m sorry— I didn’t mean it badly–‘ You panically wept. His eyes narrowed, a sense of absolute euphoria over the position of power he had. He felt so cocky, you know? He just ruined two of the top heroes’ careers and now he’s taking away the only support and comfort from his shitty mom. His revenge has just fucking started. He nonchalantly dropped your body onto the floor as he adjusted to stand straight. You crumbled to your knees, your hands flying to your throat as you wretched and coughed out. Your neck was painful to the touch, throbbing as you felt the bruise of his grip develop. Suddenly, he knelt down to one knee, looking at you with an unimpressed expression.

‘Don’t be so fucking dramatic. Be grateful you’re alive.’ He spat, his tone unforgiving. You sobbed, trying your best to sniffle your crying as you bit down on your lip and shut your eyes tightly—too stuck in horror to look at whatever the fuck your current situation was. From the fear of death you just had, you nearly wanted to thank him for sparing your life. Your hands violently shaking as you refused to look up to him, parts of you begging that this was all some bad trip. Suddenly, he laughed. He began to laugh, growing louder and more insane. You stopped breathing, opening your eyes to see him heaving in absolute exhilaration.

‘Don’t do that,’ He was profoundly euphoric, ‘you’re reminding me too much of how I cried to dear old Endeavour. What, are you trying to send me down memory lane?’ He finally calmed down a little, smiling at you as you knelt before him, fucking speechless. Your relief was immediately drowned out in the panic of what he was trying to do. He reached out, shoving his thumb into your mouth and forcing your jaw open. Taking his other hand, he forced two fingers down your throat without a shred of care. You gagged, grabbing his wrist and digging your nails into his skin as you felt a pill sink into being forced down into your body as he kept his fingers deep in your throat. Eyes wide as you tried to fight him off, jaw stiffening as you prepared to bite down on him. He stared you down warningly, his breaths deepening and hand warming on your jaw. You sobbed, relenting and loosening your grip on his wrist, shutting your eyes tightly. You felt a tear gently trickle down your cheek, it felt warm against your face. But not as warm as the threatening hand on your neck that wouldn't hesitate to burn. Dabi let go, standing up as you coughed out, feeling the pill stay stuck deep in your throat as you tried your best to ignore it. He lazily dragged his hand across your face, wiping your spit off his hand. You started to cry. Sobbing as quietly as you could as you heard. You could tell he was truly annoyed, clicking his tongue as he took heavy steps away from you - but still keeping a close enough distance to burn you alive if you tried to run away. You felt frustrated. What had you done to deserve this? What did he drug you with? Your panic made you hallucinate awful symptoms of the pill. The world began feeling dizzy, your head becoming light, ad your thoughts racing drunkenly. Although, rationally, you knew that you hadn't even digested the pill yet, so you tried your best to calm yourself down before the pill's effects would truly take place.

You didn't realize Dabi had taken his space between you two to take a quick call until he hung up, shoving his phone deep into his pocket before he looked back to you with a bored expression. 'Are you done crying?' He was annoyed. From the expression of apathy and boredom on his face, he resembled a tired dad sick of his children throwing a tantrum over every little thing. The way he looked down at you felt demeaning, and you felt your body shrink a little down into the core of your bruised heart. You wanted to stand up, your legs numb from being forced down to kneel this entire time. Yet, the fear you held over being burnt from any sudden movement kept you scarily still.

'Get up.' There wasn't a shred of care in his voice, but from the way he tangled his fingers in your hair, dragging you forward by it until you were knelt up awkwardly by his side like a dog, you weren't surprised by his verbal violence. Let alone his physical violence. You grabbed his hand, trying to ease the burning pain against your scalp. It felt as though your hair would rip from the root if he pulled just a little harder. Your eyes darted around, confusion to why he propped you up to him so closely. Was there some threat? Was something about to happen? You felt your heart pounding through your blouse, so loud it resonated inside your head. But, it didn't matter how much your scalp burned in pain. It didn't matter how your palms were still scraped open from your initial fall. It didn't matter how you had roughly fifteen minutes before that pill would digest. What did matter was that by the end of those fifteen minutes, you needed to be away from him and whatever he had planned for you. As though Dabi sensed your change in mood from fear to determination, his hand began to heat up.

'If you want to die, go ahead and try what you want. If not, stay down like the trash you are.' You felt the hope you built up crumble, maybe it was from Dabi's words. But mainly, it was from the literal crumble of the ground and roads in front of your apartment building. The way the earth caved in on the infamous stone-like creature that bulldozed through half of Japan—Gigantomachia of the League of Villians. His body was confined down so his brutish face was mere feet away from yours. His eyes were a glinted yellow, so much so they didn't resemble eyes in the slightest—moreso like large fragments of amber-filled or gold his sclera. You watched in horror as large rubbles of the road slipped down Machia's spikes, cracking their area of impact once they fell. Light after light turned on in your neighboring apartments, people opening their doors with pissed-off expressions darkened with eyebags. Looking to curse out whatever fool decided to make such a loud fuss in the middle of the night. Unsurprisingly, as the beast merely turned his head in their direction, and person after person ran out of their homes in wide-eyed fear.

Dabi rolled his eyes, unimpressed at their pathetic attempts at an escape. He raised his palm, flames bursting out from the center as screams of pain erupted. You stared in horror as the people you'd politely smile to every day burnt up before your eyes. You didn't plan it. Your arms reached up and grabbed Dabi's forearm to pull it down into our chest. You cringed when the flame lightly skimmed your shoulder, yet our grip on his arm remained iron. You refused to let people die right in front of you.

'What the fuck are you doing?!' He yelled, his flames dissipating as you watched a minuscule bunch run away safely. Dabi shoved you hard into the ground, glaring down at you in absolute annoyance. Yet you returned his glare, looking up at him with resentment. 'Fine, you wanna die? Go ahead.' He aimed his palm in your direction, a twinge of flames hurling out. Without a doubt, you were scared. You were scared of dying, scared of never seeing your loved ones again, and scared of the sorrow your death would cause. You hadn't had the impact you wished to have yet, yet here you were, about to die before barely making a dent of meaning in your life. But in that fear, you felt angry. Angry that you were being relentlessly harmed over helping someone who needed it, angry that Dabi would mercilessly burn the innocent without hesitation, and angry that he was mad at you over trying to save them. He was so unreasonable.

'God! Can you quit it?! I understand your pain, and I understand where you're coming from. But those people aren't Endeavour, Rei, or whoever else you hate! They didn't do anything to deserve being killed over, just like you didn't do anything to deserve what you went through as a kid. So why are you hurting them?!' You glared at him, adjusting your posture so you were sitting upright, a hand soothing the blistering burn on your shoulder. His flames fizzled out, and you saw his eyes widen. He was silent, still. As though for both of you, time stopped. You heard desperate steps fade away into the background, rubble from Machia falling upon the grass, and the sizzles of Dabi's flames eating away the fresh corpses that littered the scene about you two. His expression was apathetic, you couldn't read him. Yet, you felt his mind racing, before his palm picked up and slapped you, hard, right across your face.

'You understand me? Is that what you fucking said?' He was absolutely livid. You could hear the absolute anger in his voice, yet a soft smile spread across his lips. Your cheek felt stung, warm, and you were absolutely speechless. For some reason, him slapping you across your face felt more painful than the burn on your shoulder and the scrapes on your palms combined. It was the way he looked down at you. Down at you with absolute fury, as though you were a senseless fool. 'Don't you dare say you understand me when you haven't gone through what I did.' You could tell he wanted to kill you in that moment. You flinched when he reached out to you, expecting this to be your final moment. Instead, he threw you over his shoulder and jumped onto Machia's back, being dragged away to god knows where. You looked up to his face, catching a glimpse of his thumb wiping a droplet of blood from the corner of his eyes before wiping it onto his sleeve. Did he become injured? Or was that a common occurance? Truly, you shouldn't care. He had just battered you, violently dragging you upon the back of a rocky beast, and yet here your nursing instincts slapped you across the face to anaylze his aid.

Quickly, your brief confusion, or worry, for Dabi fell apart as you realized your legs couldn't feel the aggressive breeze of the wind against it's skin. You fought to move, to adjust your stature, yet you felt as though your nerves were burning, fighting against an invisble force that kept you scarily limp and still. Your heart began to pound in your chest, heavy breaths shaking your lungs as you nearly began to weep over what awful drug Dabi had foresaken onto you earlier. You felt constrained, uncomfortable, a distant tingle of pain tracing about the entirety of your skin as you tried to fight the stunt in your lower half. Your legs. Your legs were paraylzed. Your mind raced a mile a minute, heart dropping deep into your stomach. This isn't fair. It's not fair. You felt as though your life has fallen so far you couldn't even hear it's impact on the floor so down below. No resonating echoes, nothing. And that nothing was not at all what you deserved. You hand quivered, tracing across your shin to your thigh. It felt as though you traced your hand on another body, or a piece of your body that was no longer attached. You were disturbed, trying to keep your sanity together as your temples and eyes burned with frustrated tears. It wasn't until a tear hit your thigh, and you didn't even feel it, did you truly begin to break down.

Everything is a fucking mess.

#re-fucking-venge #yandere dabi #dabi #my hero academia #dabi x y/n #dabi x you #dabi x reader #mha x reader #bnha dabi #dabi smut #dabi headcanons #todoroki touya #todoroki toya #dabi angst

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bakvrue · 10 months

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love makes me stronger

izuku midoriya x reader

after an incident in which you were captured, izuku comes to rescue you and in turn is forced to listen to a villain's monolog. will the villain be able to tug at izuku's heartstrings after all he's done? 1.1k

Your hands brace against the material now holding you hostage. It's hard and rough to the touch, almost like unpolished quartz, with a golden glow. Your fingernails scraping against it makes the hairs on your neck stand up, but the one thing you are grateful for is the fact that you can see through it; so that you can see him and know that he's alive.

Izuku kneels before the man who entombed you; blood drips down his face as he clutches his ribs, and you can tell by the way he's positioned his leg that there is something wrong with his ankle, but even if his body is bruised that look in his eyes never waivers.

He stares down the man in front of him. The man who burned down a hospital to steal you away in the chaos and who set an army of henchmen to 'clear up the stragglers.'

You can still feel the man's hand on your mouth from when he dragged you away, whispering in your ear, "This is all your fault you know, yours and his."

You didn't know what he meant then but the more he speaks the more you're able to peace together.

"The great Deku," he sneers, "Japan's savior, in fact, the world's savior. And what is he here for? As the city outside is being overrun?"

The man yanks Izuku’s hair, turning his head so that he can look directly at you. There's a falter in Izuku’s breathing when his eyes meet yours, and his gaze softens.

"You're here for the woman you love." The man's gangly voice cracks, "Pathetic."

Izuku's eyes flash with a dark murth as he straightens himself. "You said you wouldn't hurt her if I came. I'm here, so let her go." Izuku's voice is authoritative and so much unlike the voice that whispers into your ear late at night. It sends a shiver down your spine.

The man takes a few steps, pondering Izuku’s request. A hand on his chin his trenchcoat flaps against his legs.

He quickly turns on his heels, and makes a check with fingers. "No."

From the ground a prision of the same make as yours quickly snaps into place around Izuku. This must be his quirk.

Izuku starts to bang against the new walls around him until the man clicks his tongue. "I wouldn't do that if I was you, hero."

The man's fingers twist, and the walls around you start closing.

"NO! Stop!" Izuku yells.

You try to use strength against the walls to stop them but it does nothing until the man untwists his fingers. The walls then stabilize in their current condition.

"I was like you once, hero." There's hatred dripping from the man's every word. "Had someone I would have risked everything for, and they were taken from me! My partner was killed because you HERO'S don't care about anything but yourselves! All those years ago when you 'saved Japan,' when us evacuees we're supposed to be safe! When hundreds of us got stuck under the collapsing barrier, who did the heros save? Not them.

"My quirk wasn't strong enough then. I could barely hold two cells open, and they couldn't withstand the force they can now. I watched the hero's save their own while I was helpless to save mine!

"Do you know how that feels?" The man's voice raging against his vocal cords as he glares at Deku.

Izuku lifts his head, his eyes meeting the villains, shrouded by the hair sticking to his forehead. Izuku chooses to remain silent. He knows of loss, and pain, but this man's pain does not justify his crimes.

"Love is a burden. Even with love I wasn't strong enough, but without it? Look what I've done without love… the power I've amassed…" He pauses for a second before spinning to face Deku directly. "Love is weakness."

Izuku's nose flares and his fists ball at his sides.

The man flicks the wall between him and Izuku, "Let me destroy your weakness for you."

He twists his fingers and a panic jump starts your heart. The walls slowly start to close in on you, your breathing increasing in the small space making you light headed as you push on the walls.

Izuku winds his arm back and punches the wall in front of him. The orange glow pulses as it's hit, again and again.

The villain throws his head back and laughs, "That is unbreakable Mr. Hero. Not even diamonds can drill through it."

Izuku keeps punching, each time putting more and more energy into his punches as the walls around you become just an arms length wide.

"If you have any last words to your beloved, now would be the time to say them, dear hero."

The repetitive motion of his punches has been building Fa Jin and, even with his knuckles now bloodied, he punches again at one hundred percent.

The orange pulse from the punch’s impact ricochets through the walls, getting faster and faster until the walls burst.

"You're wrong." Izuku stands and takes a menacing step towards the man, who is now backing up slowly with shaky legs. "Love makes me stronger."

Izuku takes another step, and your walls stop moving.

"Release her."

Another step forward.

"Now."

The man's hands shake as he releases the walls around you, and you collapse gasping for air.

But Izuku isn't done.

"You have hurt and killed countless people, made them endure the suffering you did. We all lost people in that battle. You lost someone important to you and I'm sorry for that." With every word he gets closer to the man until he's backed him into a wall. "But. You. Are. Wrong. Love doesn't make you weak. Love is the reason you keep fighting."

The cowering man slips down the wall, crumpling into a blubbering sack.

Izuku looks to you before handcuffing the man, making sure you're okay before calling for backup.

He had to get the official hero duties out of the way before he got to you because he knew as soon as he did he wasn't going to let go for the next week.

With the phone call made, and other heroes on their way he finally lets himself run over to you. The injuries he sustained earlier are forgotten as he wraps his arms around you; the ribs, the ankle, all of it is fine now that he has you in his arms again.

And you hug him back, clutching at every piece of him. Making sure he's alright and alive, as he does the same to you. It's not until he hugs you and buries his face in your neck that you can feel his tears against your skin. You hold him tighter, as your own tears start to fall.

Love makes him stronger. Your love and belief in him. And it's the thought that echoes through your mind as other heros and first responders flood the scene. All of them moving around the two of you locked in this embrace.

#💕.izuku #deku x reader #izuku midoriya x reader #izuku x reader

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religion-is-a-mental-illness · 1 month

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By: Andrew Doyle

Published: Mar 11, 2024

As a child of the Eighties and Nineties, I remember well that homosexuals were fair game in the mainstream media. One columnist in The Star railed against “Wooftahs, pooftahs, nancy boys, queers, lezzies — the perverts whose moral sin is to so abuse the delightful word ‘gay’ as to render it unfit for human consumption”. After the death of Freddie Mercury, sympathy in The Mail on Sunday was limited. “If you treat as a hero a man who died because of his own sordid sexual perversions,” one writer cautioned, “aren’t you infinitely more likely to persuade some of the gullible young to follow in his example?”

It was sadly inevitable that the AIDS crisis would exacerbate this ancient prejudice. A headline in The Sun declared that “perverts are to blame for the killer plague”. And while a writer for the Express held “those who choose unnatural methods of self-gratification” responsible for the disease, letters published in its pages followed suit. One reader called for the incarceration of homosexuals. “Burning is too good for them,” wrote another. “Bury them in a pit and pour on quicklime.” Someone had been reading his Dante.

I happened to come out in a much less hostile climate. In the early 2000s, we were enjoying a kind of Goldilocks moment, neither too hot nor too cold. We weren’t generally on the receiving end of homophobic slurs, but nor were we patronised by well-meaning progressives. My memory of this time was that no one particularly cared, and I was more than happy with that. Being gay for me has never been an identity, it’s simply a fact, as unremarkable as being blue-eyed or right-handed.

And so it has been troubling to see a resurgence in the last few years of the kind of anti-gay rhetoric that was commonplace in my childhood. Of course, it could be argued that the rise of social media has simply exposed sentiments that were previously only expressed in private. As Ricky Gervais has pointed out, before the digital era “we couldn’t read every toilet wall in the world. And now we can.”

Yet the most virulent homophobia appears to be coming from a new source. Whereas we have always been accustomed to this kind of thing from the far-Right — one recalls Nick Griffin’s remark on Question Time about how he finds the sight of two men kissing “really creepy” — but now the most objectionable anti-gay comments arise in online spheres occupied by gender ideologues, from those who claim to be progressive, Left-wing and “on the right side of history”. The significant difference is that the word “cis” has been added to the homophobe’s lexicon. Some examples:

“Cis gay men are a disease.”

“Cis gay men are truly some of the most grotesque creatures to burden this earth.”

“I hate cis gay people with a burning passion.”

“If you’re a cis gay man and your sexuality revolves around you not liking female genitalia I hope you die and I will spit on your grave.”

“Cis gays don’t deserve rights.”

“There’s so many reasons to hate gay people, most specifically white gays, but there’s never a reason to be a transphobe.”

“It’s time to normalise homophobia.”

Of course, any bile can be found on the internet, but these kinds of phrases are remarkably commonplace among certain online communities. Even a cursory search will reveal innumerable examples of gender ideologues casually branding gay men “fags” or “faggots”, praising the murder of gays and lesbians, and claiming that the AIDS epidemic was a positive thing. Many thousands of examples had been collated on Google Photos under the title “Woke homophobia: anti-gay hatred & boxer ceiling abuse from trans activists & gender-identity ideologues”. The site was taken down last year, presumably because it violated Google’s policy on hate speech — or perhaps because it revealed the toxicity of the ideology the company has spent so long promoting.

If such ideas were restricted to the demented world of internet activism, we might be justified in simply ignoring it. But we now know that the overwhelming majority of adolescents referred to the Tavistock paediatric gender clinic were same-sex attracted. Whistleblowers have spoken out about the endemic homophobia, not simply among clinicians but also parents who were keen to “fix” their gay offspring. And of course there was the running joke among staff that soon “there would be no gay people left”.

And now a series of leaked internal messages and videos from WPATH (World Professional Association for Transgender Health), has revealed that clinicians in the leading global organisation for transgender healthcare have openly admitted in private that some teenagers mistake being same-sex attracted for gender dysphoria. The result of the “gender-affirming” approach has amounted to what one former Tavistock clinician recently described as “conversion therapy for gay kids”. Homosexuality was removed from the World Health Organisation’s list of psychiatric disorders in 1993, and yet here we are medicalising it all over again.

So how did we reach the point where gay conversion therapy is being practised in plain sight by the NHS? Much of the responsibility has to lie with Stonewall, a group that once promoted equal rights for gay people but now actively works against their interests. It has even gone so far as to redefine “homosexual” on its website and resource materials as “same-gender attracted”. It should go without saying that gay men are not attracted to women who identify as men, any more than lesbians should be denounced for excluding those with penises from their dating pools. What trans activists call discrimination, most of us call homosexuality.

Indeed, activists often claim that “genital preferences are transphobic”, or that sexual orientation based on biological sex is a form of “trauma”. The idea that homosexuality is a sickness was one of the first homophobic tropes I encountered as a child. Now it is being rebranded as progressive.

As for Stonewall, its former CEO Nancy Kelley went so far as to argue that women who exclude trans people as potential partners are analogous to “sexual racists”. She claimed that “if you are writing off entire groups of people, like people of colour, fat people, disabled people or trans people, then it’s worth considering how societal prejudices may have shaped your attractions”. It is worth remembering that Stonewall is deeply embedded in many governmental departments and quangos, as well as corporate and civic institutions. Anti-gay propaganda is being reintroduced into society from the very top.

Meanwhile, the Crown Prosecution Service has been meeting with trans lobby groups such as Mermaids and Stonewall to discuss changes to prosecutorial policy in cases of sex by deception. Since these meetings — only revealed after sustained pressure from a feminist campaigner who submitted Freedom of Information requests — the CPS has recommended what Dennis Kavanagh of the Gay Men’s Network has described as “a radical trans activist approach to sex by deception prosecutions that would see them all but vanish”. In trans activist parlance, the barriers to having sex with lesbians and gay men are known as the “cotton ceiling” and “boxer ceiling”. Now it seems the establishment is attempting to support the coercion of gay people into heterosexual activity.

Consider a recent post on X by Stephen Whittle, OBE, a professor of equalities law at Manchester Metropolitan University. In a reply to LGB Alliance’s Bev Jackson, Whittle took issue with the notion that “love is all about genitals” (an argument that Jackson has never made). Having dismissed this straw man as “a very hetero/homo-normative perspective”, Whittle then claimed that “a lot of gay men can’t resist a young furry ftm [female-to-male] cub”.

While it is true that there are some bisexuals who identify as gay, it is simply not the case that homosexual men “can’t resist” certain kinds of women. As Jackson rightly noted in her response, this is rank homophobia, “disturbed and disturbing on every level”. Yet it has been expressed by an individual who has been described as a “hero for LGBTQ+ equality”. With heroes like these, who needs villains?

Another example is Davey Wavey, a popular online influencer, who has encouraged gay men to perform heterosexual acts in a video called “How to Eat Pussy — For Gay Men”. It may as well have been called “Gay Conversion Therapy 2.0”. We are firmly back in the Eighties, where gays are being told that they “just haven’t found the right girl yet” and lesbians are assured that they just “need a good dick”. And yet now these demeaning ideas are being propagated by those who claim to be defending the rights of sexual minorities.

The Government’s recent guidance on how schools are to accommodate trans-identified pupils — in which biological sex will take precedence over identity — has been met with horror from gender ideologues. One of the common refrains one hears from activists is that it represents “this generation’s Section 28”. But this is to get it precisely backwards. Gay rights were secured on the recognition that a minority of the population are same-sex attracted. In dismantling the very notion of sex and substituting it for this nebulous concept of “gender identity”, activists and their disciples in parliament are undoing all of the achievements of previous gay rights movements.

The widespread homophobia of the Eighties, epitomised by Section 28, was based on the notion that homosexuality was unnatural, dangerous and ought to be corrected. Present-day gender identity ideology perceives homosexuality as evidence of misalignment between soul and body. In other words, it seeks to “fix” gay people so that they fit into a heterosexual framework. It is no coincidence that so many detransitioners are gay people who were simply struggling with their sexuality. Gender identity ideology is the true successor to Section 28.

The proponents of this revamped gay conversion therapy dismiss our concerns as “transphobia” and “bigotry”, or as part of a manufactured “culture war”. Worse still, the new homophobia is being cheered on by those it will hurt most. While prominent gay figures continue to feed the beast that wishes to devour them, we are unlikely to see this dire situation improve any time soon. It was bad enough in the Eighties, when gay people were demonised and harassed by the establishment. Who thought we would have to fight these battles all over again?

#Andrew Doyle #woke homophobia #homophobia 2.0 #gay conversion therapy #gay conversion #conversion therapy #anti gay #gender ideology #gender identity ideology #queer theory #intersectional feminism #religion is a mental illness

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matan4il · 6 months

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Hi. I'm Polish and I want to educate myself. Last week I went to The Polish Jews Museum Polin in Warsaw, Poland.

I also read a lot of online leftist stuff.

Cam you tell me what were 2019 Gaza protests about? Why are you calling them "protests"? I thought they were largely peaceful.

Hi! Sorry it took me a moment to reply. You might have noticed that I'm getting a lot of asks, and I do try to research some things before replying. I'm glad you're trying to educate yourself, I hope you do so by more than just reading whatever anti-Israeli blogs are posting here, posts which de-humanize Israelis and Jews, and justify the violence and murder of our people.

Here's a few pics from the events you're asking me about, organized by the terrorist organization Hamas. In the first pic, please note that each "peaceful protester" is holding a weapon, including an axe (you mentioned the Holocaust... ever since I guided at our museum a Holocaust survivor from Libya, who was attacked by axe-wielding local Arabs half a year after the end of WWII, forever scarring his head and his hands, I never look at an axe in the same way):

And here's some of those "peaceful protesters" with cutters that would allow them to try and breach the fence on Israel's border:

If there's any doubt what would these Hamas terrorists have done if they had succeeded back then in crossing into Israel, we got the answer during the massacre of Oct 7.

On the surface, these "protests" were about Palestinian liberation. But on Apr 9, 2018 Sinwar, the leader of Hamas in Gaza, admitted that he was staging these riots to divert attention away from the failure of the Palestinian Hamas and Fatah to reconcile. An internal Palestinian matter erupted as violence targeting Israel, allowing Hamas to depict itself as THE leader in Palestinian society.

Anyone telling you that these border riots were peaceful is trying to sell you something. Beyond selling you hatred for Israel, the biggest Jewish community in the world today, it's also meant to sell you an alibi. According to this, Hamas' terrorists supposedly had to use violence, 'coz they tried protesting peacefully, and that failed. But these were not actually peaceful protests. Hamas has never tried peace, and has never wanted to, since it's an antisemitic organization committed to the murder of all Jews. It's the same people who murdered over 1,400 people in Israel on Oct 7, who brutally raped, beheaded, tortured, cut off limbs, cut off intimate parts, burned people alive, and all in the name of an ideology that strives to kill every Jew in the world.

Does it sound like "protests" organized by this entity along the border of the Jewish state could have ever been peaceful?

The riots lasted continuously for almost two years, from Mar 30, 2018 to Dec 27, 2019. Since then, there were more riots by the fence, but they had been sporadic. So most of the time, people refer to that period when the riots were a constant. Here's a report on the violence taking place during the riots, released on Mar 27, 2019 (almost a year after they started. Click the pic for better quality):

Again, since you mentioned educating yourself on the Holocaust, I'll point out the swastika that these Hamas terrorists drew on that arson kite that you can see in the above screenshot. I can give you many more examples of how they use the swastika, for now I'll just include one more:

I found another report for you, from an intelligence and terrorism research center. It's from a much earlier point during the riots, posted on May 28, 2018. It mentions the violent nature of the riots, but it also identifies most of those killed when trying to breach Israel's fence up until that point. They're overwhelmingly members of terrorist organizations (not just Hamas). A report from Jan 21, 2019 had similar findings.

Something else to take note of is that Hamas actually paid people to join these violent riots. How much would people get paid depended on how bad their fate would be. Think about how cruel Hamas is being to its own Palestinian people... Hamas is estimated to be one of the richest terrorist organizations in the world (with most of the money going to Hamas' leaders). Here's a reminder that Hamas spent A LOT of money on the Oct 7 massacre, which it could have spent on the Gazans. A little over half of the Gaza population is kept in a state of poverty (the rest are Hamas members or affiliated with it, such as the wives and kids of Hamas terrorists). So, this terrorist organization intentionally keeps the people in Gaza poor, then offers to pay them if they go try to breach the border, and get injured or killed. That gives people motivation not just to participate, but to be violent, in the hope of attracting gunfire from the IDF. Hamas actively encouraged the Palestinians in Gaza to be violent, and to die.

Another piece of evidence that the riots were violent is that there were eight Israelis killed and over 380 injured during these "peaceful protests." If they had been peaceful events, and had been kept to the Gazan side of the border, there should have been no casualties on the Israeli side. This is Barel Chadaria Shmueli (on the right), who was killed by a Palestinian that got close enough to an IDF post along the fence to shoot him point blank:

There are also lots of vids showing the violent nature of the riots, here are two that I can embed, and one I can only link you to, and which reports on over 100 explosive devices thrown at IDF soldiers during that one day alone...

youtube

One last, but crucial thing that I'm going to add here... How do you think Hamas managed to breach the Israeli border fence on Oct 7? Hamas used the "peaceful protests" to study the fence and the soldiers guarding it, figure out where there were weaknesses and blind spots, and use that information to infiltrate Israel and massacre over 1,000 innocent civilians here (and over 340 soldiers trying to protect them). Without these "peaceful protests," all of those people would have been alive. In fact, according to one report, some of the explosive devices along the fence that were blown up by Hamas on the day of the massacre might have been planted there secretly during one of the more recent riots along the border.

I hope I managed to answer your question? Let me know if anything wasn't clear!

(for all of my updates and ask replies regarding Israel, click here)

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g00ngala · 1 year

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hopefully this is the last long post i will ever have to make about hit disney show the owl house but I am so sick of people posting paragraphs of lukewarm takes on philip's death so. one last rant for the road, i suppose.

belos's death wasn't unsatisfying, nor was it purely physical. first of all, philip is a representation of greater societal problems (which are notably still there, remember, there's people who want to reestablish his order for their own gain). he is a plague and parasite on the world and a demonstration of humanity's worst cruelties, and his pathetic death by boiling rain and stomping as the most true and good character, who does her best to do right by everyone and believes in second chances, in the entire show, looks at him with no emotion in a way that directly parallels the way caleb's ghost looks down upon him, and he claws at her feet in a desperate attempt to use another person's good nature once again to get what he wants, and fails and dies, is INCREDIBLY symbolic.

and TWO. the point ISN'T that philip is an Evil Liar Who Lies and his backstory is being shafted for simple evil, he is an incredibly realistic depiction of how many people are consumed by their fear of what they don't understand and their hatred, let it fester into a desire to harm, and then elaborate lies to not only manipulate others but trick themselves by their own rhetoric so they don't have to feel bad for it

throughout the show philip is paralleled to cult leaders and militaristic dictators, and he is LITERALLY a puritan colonizer. philip is white man ego in its purest form. yes, the awful society is 75% the fault of Just One Guy, but this is a cartoon. he represents every man who has tried to build a world like this, who burns what he doesn't understand and makes up lies to justify it and trick his own guilt into not eating him alive.

people keep bitching that philip didn't truly face his own lies and realize how awful he was before he died, or that he wasn't given any chance to change, but philip has run the fuck out of chances. the point is he will never learn because he chooses not to. philip had to die because he'd rather lie and rot and take everyone down with him than EVER admit he's wrong. he killed his brother because he tricked himself into believing that caleb betrayed him, romanticized the idea of Caleb in his head and delusionally convinced himself that he tried to save him, while his knife hangs over his brother's ghost eternally, symbolizing the shoved down guilt he'll never truly outrun.

he made hunter believe it was his fault that philip repeatedly harmed him, he told the people of the isles after slaughtering them over and over that it's better if he rules them because he is better than them, he eternally victimizes himself over and over because he is an abuser. his lies are not just to others but to himself. he makes himself believe that the ends justify the means, when the ends are nonsensical rhetoric and the means are horrific violence. because philip is a person who may have had the capacity for good, but he chooses to live in his own hatred and rot everything around him, taking advantage of hunger for power and good natured kindness in the same breath, and he chooses to turn away from the mirror every time, to refuse to acknowledge the monster he's become because he's a coward.

the titan said it themself. his motives aren't genuine, not because he's evil for evil's sake but because he'd do anything to continue to live in his own delusion of heroism and perpetual victimhood. philip is someone you can find in the behaviors of dictators and colonists and evangelical christians and run of the mill abusers all throughout history. this doesn't make him a cookie cutter villain, it makes him a REALISTIC villain, or as realistic as you can get in a cartoon on the disney channel. he wants power and he wants admiration and he wants death and suffering to the people he's scared of, and he'd rather kill himself and take everyone down with him than ever face who he is.

not all villains need a redemption arc to be complex. he doesn't love to rub his hands together cartoonishly and watch the world burn, but some people do actually enjoy harming others. but the realism comes from how he lies to himself and others about it.

sometimes someone can be truly evil, not because they were born that way, but because they choose to be, and because they choose to live in denial about it until they're rotting in the ground.

#toh #toh spoilers #the owl house #philip wittebane #emperor belos #hannah.txt #hopefully the last toh rant ill ever post. goodbye owl house its been fun!

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dailydegurechaff · 10 months

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What is Marry like in this AU of yours?

God I fucking hate Tanya von Degurechaff so fucking much holy shit. Holy shit, every piece of propaganda she's in, every photo, every parade, every video, she's got this painfully serious, annoying as shit, fuckass blank look on her stupid fucking face. Absolutely no part of her ugly as sin piece of shit appearance is endearing. Her stumpy fucking legs? How the hell is someone that fucking short. Her dumb little silver wings medal? Her shitty, round bastard face? The three thousand percent unnecessary dumbass shitass fucking ANTENNAE that no person in her company has EVER FUCKING TRIED TO FIX FOR HER IN tHE HISTORY OF GOD'S GREEN FUCKING EARTH? God, I hate her. I hate her so much. So FUCKING much. Every time I see a White Silver toy or a propaganda poster or a shitty goddamn commercial, it ignites my primal rage response and I'm overcome by the need to punt this shitty little war criminal into the fucking sun. "tee-hee! I'm Tanya, the White Fucking Silver, I like war crimes". Fuck you. Fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you. You look like a shithead little brat. Your dumb fucking antenna hair makes your whole shitty head look like an unkempt street cat. I hate your dumb fucking little button nose and your stupid, stern blue eyes and your over-the-top no-nonsense hardass asshole personality. Any time she smiles it invokes all the wrath and fury of a spoiled child having a meltdown over a chocolate bar in a w*lmart checkout line. And I know its irrational. That's the worst part. I know she's just a single fucking child soldier in a giant fucking empire’s army, I know it doesn't matter, I know I shouldn't care. But that's part of the problem. The part where no matter the might and fury of my hatred, the locus of my homicidal intent is alltogether a tiny piece of a greater evil. I find myself laying awake in the dark in the early hours of the morning consumed by the spirit of Wrath itself, all the force and might of a flaming hurricane directed at a bottle of piss in a ditch by the highway. The absurdity of it all burns me to my core. What better things could this energy be directed towards? And yet my disdain for this stupid, useless, insubstantial failure of endearing propaganda utterly eclipses the intrigue of all other pursuits. I hate her. I hate her on a level of my mind reserved for the worst of the world's array of sinners, and I can't even begin to justify it. Tanya the Evil is, for all intents and purposes, a single facet of the army subjugating the world- a propagandized pawn distilled into the single, hateable form of a shining ideal soldier for every other imperial scumbag to emulate. The fucking. Fuck. I have no words. There is no cuss or epithet in any language that can encapsulate the height of the emotions I am experiencing. God, I hate her so much. I hate her so, so fucking much. I want to light her ugly little dumpster body on fire. I want to graphically beat her to death with the butt of the gun she stole off my father. I want to punch her to death. You know that weird feeling you get, when you see a picture of something so cute you find yourself overcome with the bizarre, inexplicable urge to squeeze it? It's EXACTLY like that, except instead of cuteness it's disgust. The wordless knowledge that her existence as a war hero is evidence of all the failures of mankind. I find myself possessed by the will of a Holy Angel gone rogue with the belief that God has made a mistake, and I alone must correct it. This is the trial by which Samael himself fell from grace. This wild, meaningless rage. A thousand blades of shining steel cast with inhuman force in the direction of a plastic grocery bag floating on a breeze. What horrors must I have committed in a past life to be plagued by this torment now? I must Unmake this sinful child

(x)

#i know its tanyas birthday but here i am posting abt mary's seething hatred #you can read this as genuine rage or angry gay pining either characterization is acceptable to me #to answer your question: still hates tanya #tbh you can answer just about any question regarding the “canon” of dailydegu by asking urself this one question #“what is the funniest possible outcome to any situation?”#dailydegu is basically a comedy at this point #mary sue #mary sioux #mary #youjo senki #the saga of tanya the evil #ask #joshtr2000 #bonus doodle

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girlactionfigure · 3 months

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My mom bought me these boots from Zara in Denver a few weeks back. She could feel me sinking into a pit of rage, grief, and hopelessness. So, she came to meet me in Denver and upon landing, took me to walk the mall “just to get out and move through it.” My mother, a miracle, born to a father who was the sole Holocaust survivor in his family, knows a thing or two about battling anger and grief at a world fixated on annihilating Jews and our spirits.

I've been intimately familiar with the horrors of October 7th since it happened. Like countless Jews, I've meticulously followed every gruesome detail of Hamas' well-planned and well-funded genocide attempt. Every despicable act of torture, rape, and murder – etched into my bones. On top of that, I follow daily the relentless onslaught of people and communities celebrating, erasing, and justifying the slaughter, while denying our right to defend ourselves. Watching old friends ‘like’ and share posts constantly which dehumanize Jews and lie about Israel, putting our lives further at risk. Contending with all of this over the past few months has been unbearable. Like many Jews, I'm haunted both awake and asleep.

I've been debilitated, struggling to cope with all of it. How do we carry on in a country where so many wish us dead? How do we thrive in a place that dismisses our pain and disregards our countless contributions to society? How do I contemplate having children in a place where their lives aren't valued? How can I coexist with so many people who, at best, couldn't care less about the brutal murders of over 1200, the kidnapping and daily ongoing torture of hundreds more for over 119 days, while the world cheers for the rest of us to be annihilated? How do I sleep at night when all I can think about are the looming threats to Israel and the Jewish people, the treatment of our hostages, and the insidious web of hatred that constantly engulfs our existence?

When my mom handed me these boots, I thought they might be fitting for Israel, but I didn't really dwell on it. I knew the journey would be grueling. And while I thought I already knew the gruesome details, walking through the aftermath is a different level of knowing. These boots tread through miles of hell – the remnants of homes ruthlessly attacked by a kind of evil I couldn't fathom existed. An evil that deliberately targeted communities of Israelis dedicated to peace, only to be met with beheadings, rape, burning alive, and slaughter.

These boots tread through miles of desolation – the aftermath of thousands of terrorists and hundreds of so-called "civilians" perpetrating unspeakable acts against over a thousand innocent, peace-loving people. These vile rapists and murderers were the beneficiaries for years of those they heartlessly slaughtered. They were acquainted with so many of these good people, the very people they mercilessly killed. Several of these compassionate Israelis had welcomed these terrorists into their homes for years, offered them work opportunities, and tirelessly tried to help them lead a better life.

These boots ventured through charred remains, blood-soaked grounds, and homes, bomb shelters, and once-beloved personal spaces and belongings torn apart, covered in bullet holes, reduced to pieces and char – all obliterated by hours of relentless assaults by terrorists armed with thousands of machine guns, fire bombs, and RPGs. Weapons funded, in part, by American and European taxpayers, whose leaders for years knowingly funneled billions into a terror operation whose sole objective is eradicating Israel and every Jew from the map before extending their genocidal ambitions westward.

After coming back from our third trip to the massacre sites in the south,

@JordynTilchen

insisted on me wiping these boots down before stepping into our rental, but the weight of what they carried was too immense. I couldn't erase the traces of blood and death that clung to them. Instead, I brought them home with me wrapped in several bags. These boots hold more than just grime; they carry the echoes of unspeakable atrocities and the silent cries of hundreds and hundreds of innocent lives ruthlessly tortured and taken.

I've decided to give them a burial here, to acknowledge the horrors they tread through, the shattered communities and homes they traversed, and to honor the remains of the once-beautiful lives torn from existence that cling to them. As I do this, I promise to honor not only those brutally murdered and taken hostage, but also those who are risking everything to defend the rest of us. I promise to continue to do my best to not be consumed by what feels like a tsunami of hopelessness, but to pick myself back up and channel this endless grief and anger into meaningful action and resilience.

Eden Cohen ✡︎ עדן כהן

@edencohentweets

#Israel #October7 #Hamas Massacre #Operation Sword of Iron #HamasislSIS #BringThemHomeNow #BringThemAllHomeNow #HamasKidnappers

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heraldofcrow · 6 days

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Remember that one Tumblr thread where one person writes a huge rant about how much they hate Olaf the Snowman that gets progressively more insane and as if wasn't cursed enough someone responded with "I'd have less problem with this post if Olaf wasn't queer-coded"? Imagine this exchange but it's Ciaran writing ungodly long hateful rant about Smough an Gwyndolin's only reaction is "I'd have less problem with this post if Smough wasn't queer etc" idk

Ciaran: God I fucking hate Smough the Executioner so fucking much holy shit. Holy shit, every room he's in, every painting, every hallway, every execution ceremony, he's got this painfully vacant, stupid as shit, fuckass look on his stupid tiny face. Absolutely no part of his ugly as sin piece of shit armor design is endearing. His stupid fucking hammer? Who the hell uses a hammer for executions. His dumb flaily fucking disproportionate arms? His shitty, tiny bastard head? The three thousand percent unnecessary dumbass shitass fucking FAKE ARMOR BREASTS that no knight has EVER FUCKING HAD IN tHE HISTORY OF GWYN'S GREEN FUCKING EARTH? God, I hate him. I hate him so much. So FUCKING much. Every time I see a marble-carved statue Smough or a Smough painting or a shitty goddamn stained-glass portrait, it ignites my primal rage response and I'm overcome by the need to punt this shitty little homunculus into the fucking sun. "Bhurr blur, I'm Smough the fuckshit executioner fucker, I like eating people’s bones". Fuck you. Fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you. You look like the Covetous Demon summoned a patronus. Your dumb fucking double-faced armor makes your whole shitty head look like a bulging skin tag. I hate your dumb fucking muffled perv laugh and your stupid, empty googly eyes and your over-the-top goofy ass jealous brown-nosing cannibal personality. Any time he's sad it invokes all the wrath and fury of a spoiled child having a meltdown over an Estus bar in a H*llowmart checkout line. And I know its irrational. That's the worst part. I know he's just a shitty fucking executioner in a stupid fucking different part of the castle, I know it doesn't matter, I know I shouldn't care. But that's part of the problem. The part where no matter the might and fury of my hatred, the locus of my homicidal intent is alltogether inconsequential. I find myself laying awake in the dark in the early hours of the morning consumed by the spirit of Chaos itself, all the force and might of a flaming hurricane directed at a bottle of piss in a ditch by the roadway. The absurdity of it all burns me to my core. What better things could this energy be directed towards? And yet my disdain for this stupid, useless, insubstantial failure of endearing armor design utterly eclipses the intrigue of all other pursuits. I hate him. I hate him on a level of my mind reserved for the worst of the world's array of sinners, and I can't even begin to justify it. Shitstick the Smough dick is, for all intents and purposes, the animated corpse of all of humanity's saccharine pretenses- every condescending, passive-aggressive statement of meaningless upper middle class Lordranian drama distilled into a single, hateable form. The fucking. Fuck. I have no words. There is no curse or epithet in any language that can encapsulate the height of the emotions I am experiencing. God, I hate him so much. I hate him so, so fucking much. I want to light his ugly little dumpster body on fire. I want to graphically beat him to death with his own stupid fucking hammer. I want to punch him to death. You know that weird feeling you get, when you see a picture of something so cute you find yourself overcome with the bizarre, inexplicable urge to squeeze it? It's EXACTLY like that, except instead of cuteness it's disgust. The wordless knowledge that his existence as a king’s executioner is evidence of all the failures of godkind. I find myself possessed by the will of a Holy Lord’s Blade gone rogue with the belief that Gwyn has made a mistake, and I alone must correct it. This is the trial by which Seath himself fell from grace. This wild, meaningless rage. A thousand blades of shining steel cast with inhuman force in the direction of a burlap travel sack floating on a breeze. What horrors must I have committed in a past life to be plagued by this torment now? I must Unmake this fake ass executioner.

Ornstein: holy shit you’re not wrong

Gwyndolin: I'd feel better about this whole rant if Smough weren't possibly queer. It might be largely the voice – the laugh, the inflection especially – but he's got massive "Ornstein’s gay sidekick" vibes. And if you're actively critiquing that? Sure, great, go all out. Hate whom you will. Say whatever you want about how "gay" is equated with "Ornstein’s silly sidekick used for hammer comedy, with no serious bearing on anything, literally human and treated by Serious God Co-workers as... well,a sidekick, peripheral to your life and safe to ignore.

But if you're not engaging critically with that aspect of Smough and are just overwhelmed with hatred whenever you see or hear or think about the possibly queer executioner and his mannerisms make you feel violent, that is a little bit. Uncomfortable. At best.

Ciaran: what on Gwyn’s green earth are you talking about

Artorias: See sometimes I wonder why I still haven’t left to battle the Abyss yet, and then conversations like this come along. Amazing.

Gough:

—

Original Post

#DRSTFYAGHU #YOU BROUGHT THIS UPON YOURSELF #I WILL TAKE ANY CHANCE TO MAKE DS BLORBO HELLPOSTS LOLL #smough the executioner #lord’s blade ciaran #knight artorias #dragonslayer ornstein #hawkeye gough #dark sun gwyndolin #dark souls #silly post #asks #mutuals

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alfiely-art · 4 months

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God I fucking hate Makoto Kagutsuchi so fucking much holy shit. Holy shit, every frame he's in, every scene, every gif, every jpeg, he's got this painfully vacant, stupid as shit, fuckass look on his stupid baby face. Absolutely no part of his ugly as sin piece of shit character design is endearing. His stupid fucking pants? Who the hell makes a homunculus with purple pants. His dumb flaily fucking twink arms? His shitty, baby bastard head? The three thousand percent unnecessary dumbass shitass fucking VACANT FOREHEAD that no homunculus has EVER FUCKING HAD IN tHE HISTORY OF GOD'S GREEN FUCKING EARTH? God, I hate him. I hate him so much. So FUCKING much. Every time I see a stuffed toy Makoto or a Makoto gif or a shitty goddamn commercial, it ignites my primal rage response and I'm overcome by the need to punt this shitty little homunculus into the fucking sun. "Bhurr blur, I'm Makoto the fuckshit masked man, I like warm baths". Fuck you. Fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you. You look like Izuru Kamukura summoned a patronus. Your dumb fucking twig hair makes your whole shitty head look like a hairy skin tag. I hate your dumb fucking pink tongue and your stupid, empty googly eyes and your over-the-top goofy ass upbeat asshole personality. Any scene he's sad it invokes all the wrath and fury of a spoiled child having a meltdown over a chocolate bar in a w*lmart checkout line. And I know its irrational. That's the worst part. I know he's just a shitty fucking sympathetic villain character in a stupid fucking video game, I know it doesn't matter, I know I shouldn't care. But that's part of the problem. The part where no matter the might and fury of my hatred, the locus of my homicidal intent is alltogether inconsequential. I find myself laying awake in the dark in the early hours of the morning consumed by the spirit of Wrath itself, all the force and might of a flaming hurricane directed at a bottle of piss in a ditch by the highway. The absurdity of it all burns me to my core. What better things could this energy be directed towards? And yet my disdain for this stupid, useless, insubstantial failure of endearing character design utterly eclipses the intrigue of all other pursuits. I hate him. I hate him on a level of my mind reserved for the worst of the world's array of sinners, and I can't even begin to justify it. Shitstick the masked dick is, for all intents and purposes, the animated corpse of all of humanity's saccharine pretenses- every condescending, passive-aggressive statement of meaningless upper middle class suburban drama distilled into a single, hateable form. The fucking. Fuck. I have no words. There is no cuss or epithet in any language that can encapsulate the height of the emotions I am experiencing. God, I hate him so much. I hate him so, so fucking much. I want to light his ugly little dumpster body on fire. I want to graphically beat him to death with his own stupid fucking mask. I want to punch him to death. You know that weird feeling you get, when you see a picture of something so cute you find yourself overcome with the bizarre, inexplicable urge to squeeze it? It's EXACTLY like that, except instead of cuteness it's disgust. The wordless knowledge that his existence as a fictional work is evidence of all the failures of mankind. I find myself possessed by the will of a Holy Angel gone rogue with the belief that God has made a mistake, and I alone must correct it. This is the trial by which Samael himself fell from grace. This wild, meaningless rage. A thousand blades of shining steel cast with inhuman force in the direction of a plastic grocery bag floating on a breeze. What horrors must I have committed in a past life to be plagued by this torment now? I must Unmake this fictional twink

#copypasta #shitposting #yomi hellsmile #makoto kagutsuchi #if you want the original post ill tell you just. be prepared.#rain code #master detective archives: rain code #raincode #mdarc #meme #shitpost #copypaste #raincode spoilers #mdarc spoilers #long post

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an-theduckin · 4 months

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Billy Hendricks Character analysis

[DISCLAIMER: I am not justifying or condoning his actions, I am merely showing that he is not just a mindless villain and I'm exploring the depth of his character. This is probably obvious but yeah please don't come after me for this]

Billy Hendricks, kidnapper of Mark. He's a terrifying villain who has no redeeming qualities. Let's dissect that fucker cuz he's got a LOT of layers and depth.

First, let's see some context.

Billy Hendricks was a child actor, starring in 'my dear monster'. He was groomed and made into luring children into Big monster's sewers where Big monster kill them. When Big monster was caught, Billy's mom got him out of the show, saying she doesn't think a life in the spotlight is for her son. In that newspaper poster, Billy Hendricks is seen to be crying. In the poster above, Billy is smiling. Showing how he views Big monster as an inspiration and loves acting. Keep in mind that he was just a child when this all happened, he was supposed to become famous. This was supposed to be the film that make him really get famous in the film industry. He was about to get everything he ever wanted, but than in a flash, everything was taken away from him. He was taken away from what he loved most, acting. Now imagine how this would make him feel. Billy was a kid when this happened and he was an adult when he kidnapped Mark, this suggests that his hatred for Big monster (who's the reason he can't act anymore) has been burning for many years. He is still hung up on his dream, a dream that was shattered long ago and would never be possible to achieve again. This suggests that he cannot move on from the past. (Plus he's a theatre kid and theatre kids are dramatic as hell. Trust me I'd know, I'm a theatre kid too)

The way he act and treat Mark

I think it's obvious that Billy hates Mark, his hatred for Big monster transferring to Mark just because he's Big monster's nephew. His hatred for Mark just grows more and more episode, this can be seen because in the earliest episodes, he refer to Mark as his "best friend". For example, in the first episode he starts off with, "Hello kids! And welcome back, meet my best friend, Mark!" But he stops doing that in later episodes, just referring to Mark as his "friend" instead of "best friend". This subtle change hints that Hendricks is getting more and more impatient with Mark. He also constantly silence Mark for small reasons, in the first episode he just shook his head when he didn't want Mark to say that he want to see his parents, but in later episodes he go as far as to shutting up Mark by putting his hand on his mouth. He doesn't just normally do that too, in the picture below you can see that his grip on Mark is strong. That must hurt Mark. He probably does that on purpose as he resents Mark and is very impatient and hateful towards him.

Billy Hendricks feel as though he is achieving his childhood dreams by doing all this. This may be true because of the way he act. In the rain day episode, when they do those activities such as building a pillow fort, Hendricks actually look genuinely excited for it. He could just be good at pretending to be excited for camera, but it actually felt real. Him acting childish like this reinforces the idea that he is living in the past and hasn't move on from it. Even though he's not a kid anymore, he never grew up. This is also furthur proven because of the fact that he has a "signature outfit" and wears the same set of clothes since he was a child, showing how he never grew out of his childhood. Anyways so, in that episode they do three activities. Building pillow forts, making paper cut pictures, and playing hangman. In the first activity, he looks genuinely happy when Mark says he like the pillow fort that Billy made for him. He could just be acting to be happy, but I don't think that's the case. Because in the other two activities where it starts having a twist of him taunting Mark, he did look "happy" but not as geniune as he did in the pillow fort activity. The comparison can be seen in the pictures below. It's subtle but you can see it, the smile on the right picture looks fake. This implies that he sometimes forget that this isn't what he wanted, and has to remind himself that he isn't just doing this to make himself happy but to also torture Mark and get revenge.

His attitude switches up very fast. Most of the times he talk in a singing-ish tone, mimicking kids shows where they do that. But when he's angry, like for example when Mark tried to escape, his voice becomes firm and serious. This shows how he struggles to stay "in character" sometimes, because his hatred runs so deep that it can be hard to pretend to be this cheerful kids show host. When his voice is firm and he calls out for Mark, he usually emphasises on the 'k' sound of his name. This creates a plosive sound, illustrating that he is being rough in the moment.

Billy Hendricks is dedicated to make Mark suffer. Besides the very obvious tortures that he make Mark go through, he torment him in other more subtle ways too. Here are some examples where he does that.

In the Staying healthy episode, they look at the anatomy of a Little Monster. When Billy said that "It's important to stay healthy so your brain continues to think!", Mark continues the advice by saying, "and your heart continues to love!". But then Billy corrects him, saying, "Pump blood, Mark!". This illustrates Billy as shattering Mark's innocent view of life, contrasting how his childhood dream got shattered too (even though this is a less extreme extent of it)

In the Pet episode, Mark says that he knows alot about pets and suggest that maybe he could lead that episode. But Hendricks shut him off by saying, "I know alot about pets too, Mark". You can sense the anger in his voice when he says that line, suggesting that he gets mad when someone else gets the attention and not him. This ties in his whole character of him getting so much attention from his classmates because he was a child actor and people loved him, but then he got thrown off the spotlight later because of Big monster. His mother's line, "I just don't think a life in the spotlight is for my son" suggests that he doesn't get attention anymore. (Plus he's a theatre kid and theatre kids are attention seekers- yeah okay I'll stop bullying theatre kids now). This idea is further reinforced in the positivity episode, when Mark says that he made a sticky note saying "Yes you can!", Billy tries to get the attention back on him by saying "I wrote some sticky notes too Mark!". This shows how he wants the attention and spotlight on him, and gets mad when Mark tries to get attention too.

Billy Hendricks doesn't just torture and torment Mark himself, he forces Mark to do things he doesn't want to too. For example, in the cooking episode he pressures Mark into killing the paperbag monster, "Are you gonna skin it Mark? Or do I have to do it?", he says the second sentence with a hint of anger in his voice, implying that Mark will probably get tortured if he doesn't do what he ask him to do.

Billy even goes as far as to hurting himself to hurt Mark. Like in the episode where they go to sleep, he brushes his teeth until they're bleeding. He hurt himself just to scare Mark. This portrays him as someone who's dedicated to taunt Mark, and would do it at his own expense.

He also seeks to control Mark, like in the drug episode he says that he'll give drugs to Mark if he's good and go along. This may be because he was forced out of the film industry and it was all out of his control, so he wants control back.

Recurring themes

There's a lot of scenes where Billy Hendricks monologues. All of those monologues portray a pessimistic and negative view of life. He constantly puts a negative spin on things that Mark enjoy too. Some examples are in the Halloween episode where he put razorblades in Mark's candy and ask if it's still his favourite holiday, in the pet episode where he carelessly gave Mark a pet that he wanted who died of neglect, and the biggest example is the career day episode where he puts a negative spin to the jobs that Mark said he wanted to do. This links to how he was going to be a famous actor, but it didn't work out.

Billy Hendricks is presented to have a weird obsession with death and wasting your life. This can be seen especially in the career day episode, where he monologues, "There's only 2169 days until you have to choose a job and it creeps up on you fast. 60 years will pass and before you know it you'll be lying in your death bed wishing you had picked a different career to waste your life on". This may suggest that during the time between after he quit being a child actor and before he kidnapped Mark, he had 'wasted' the years by doing a job that he didn't enjoy. He believes that he would have been happy if he was an actor, but now he couldn't be one. This may be one of the reasons why he is portrayed to be very pessimistic.

His obsession with death is further explored in the kids episode where he says that a child is your peak because "you get showered with adoration and have lots of fun". He wants to be a child again because now he's miserable as an adult, but instead of trying to improve his adult life and moving on from the past, he took away another child's childhood. In that episode, he also taunts Mark by saying that in the adult world, life goes by very fast and that before he know it, he's gonna be too old to work and die. There are many more instances where he monologues about this, but these are the main ones.

There's also a recurring theme of toxic positivity. This is obviously shown in the last episode, the positivity episode. Where his 'inspirational' sticky notes say that everything is okay, while it's not. This is further shown in the posters where he says that you can do dangerous things because "everything works out".

The theme of toxic positivity is also seen in other episodes, like for example in the feelings episode where Billy asks Mark if the pictures are happy or sad. When Mark said that the picture of a dead penguin is sad, Billy says "No silly, all these images are happy". This may be because he was forced out of his dream yet he had to pretend to be okay with it at that time.

People who influence him

There were two people who were a major influence on him. His mom, and Big monster.

Let's talk about his mom first. She just wanted what was best for him, and she got him out of the film industry because she thought it was best for him. She was just looking out for her son, but she didn't realise the negative consequences that her actions would bring. Billy was just a kid and didn't fully understand why his mom would do that, she probably could have explained it to him better. But even if she did, Billy most likely would have just turn out this way anyways because his ambition was too strong. But still, if she did explain it maybe he could have turned out differently. Maybe he wouldn't have this much resentment in him.

Now let's talk about Big monster. He tricked Billy into luring his friend's brother, Johnny Hackett, into the sewers so he can kill him. He was Billy Hendricks' idol, Billy probably saw him in a rose-tinted light and never saw anything bad about him as he idolised him too much. But then he turned out to be a murderer who used Billy to get his victims. This may turn Billy into a pessimistic person, linking back to my point earlier, and would make Billy just expect the worst of everything. He's the main reason why Billy Hendricks became a kidnapper.

Ashur's acting skills

Ah yes, the very necessary ramble about how cool Ashur is. Skip this part if u wanna, I added this solely for myself <3

ASHUR IS SOOOOO GOOD AT ACTING LIKE WTF??? HE SLAYS THE ICONIC BILLYS THREATENING SMILE FACE LIKE HOLY SHITTT THAT MAN IS TERRIFYING!! HE EVEN SOMETIMES SCARE ME GENIUNELY LIKE HOLY FUCKING SHIT HES AMAZING. BILLYS VOOCE RANGE IS JUST SO PERFECT TOO AND NOT 2 MENTION THATS LIKE HIS FIRST TIME ACTING USING VOICE?? (HIS PREVIOUS ACTING SERIES ARE JUST TIKTOK POVS WHERE HE DOESNT TALK) HES LITERALLY SO COOL BRO HES LIKE MY NUMBER ONE INSPIRATION FOR ACTING!!! LIKE THIS MAN LOOKS ABSOLUTELY INSANE AND I LOVE IT!!

The cycle of abuse

The backstory of Billy Hendricks is very tragic. He was an abused child who turned into an abuser. It is important to recognise him as a human too and not just a cruel villain, this does not mean justifying his actions. I firmly believe that dehumanising villains is a bad thing to do, because if you so that you will separate yourself from them and won't recognise it when you're being an accidental asshole. So while I hate him for everything he has done to Mark, I still think we should also see him as a hurt person who continued the cycle of abuse. Let's just hope Mark doesn't do the same thing.

End notes

Ahhhhh I've been planning 2 make this post for so long now! And even though this post is like, VERY long, I still feel like I've only barely scratch the surface of his character. He's a very interesting and complex character n should be treated as such. Also, this is just the way I see him, you are allowed 2 disagree with me ofc! You can have a different opinion on him than me, and you can express it, but please just don't be rude about it! If you'd like 2 discuss his character further or is confused abt smth I said here, feel free 2 ask me abt it! I'm more than happy 2 do it (if you're nice with it ofc) :3

Anyways yeah I hope u enjoyed this character analysis of him, and please reblog if u did (no pressure) cuz it took me such a long time 2 make this TwT

#an_theduckin #twomp #ashur gharavi #mark and friends #my text posts #billy hendricks #long post #my ramblings #character analysis #media analysis #my theory #tw blood #tw child kidnapping #tw child abuse

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