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kurt-wagner-official · 2 years

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Post #15: UXM issues 132-134

The second arc of the Dark Phoenix Saga follows the X-Men’s battles against the rest of the Lords Cardinal of the Hellfire Club. We begin with the heroes lying low at Warren Worthington III (aka Angel)’s house. Scott came up with this because he’s realized the mansion is bugged, which pissing off Xavier for no good reason. I guess he just doesn’t like Scott coming up with ideas? Xavier’s been acting really awful lately. Scott finally gets a chance to catch up with his best friend. Jean interrupts their secret meeting to get Scott to take a break from being Cyclops and have lunch with her. Her speech bubbles have thick wavy lines any time she’s in costume now, a sign that the Phoenix is consuming more and more of her. She takes off his visor and holds his optic blasts back telekinetically. Scott’s power is a metaphor for the tension and anger that he bottles up. Normally when he releases it people get hurt, but Jean helps him let it out calmly and without fear. Xavier built the visor and taught Scott to control his inner turmoil, but with Jean he can be open without fear. We also find out later that it’s here she tells him about the timeslips she’s been experiencing, for reasons she doesn’t understand. Later, Warren is able to get Scott, Jean, Ororo, and Peter fake tickets for a Hellfire party, while Kurt and Logan sneak in from the sewers. They’re discovered by Wyngarde, who brings Jean back under his brainwashing spell, revealing himself to be the old villain Mastermind and completing Jean’s transformation into the Black Queen of the Hellfire Club. The rest of the Lords Cardinal attack; Sebastian Shaw, the Black King, who absorbs kinetic energy and converts it into his own strength, Donald Pierce, a human cyborg, and Harry Leland, who can increase the mass of things. They quickly take down the X-Men, except for Logan, who Leland sends down into the sewers and leaves for dead, which obviously doesn’t work. The final panel is one of the most iconic in the series, as Logan pulls himself out of the sewer water ready for round 2. But before that, I’ll talk a little about the Lords Cardinal. The mutants of the Inner Circle are, on a metaphorical level, the cruelest extreme of the “model minority” idea that I mentioned last post. They’ve sold out their community in exchange for power in the human world. Pierce is a human who despises mutants, but Shaw, Leland, and Wyngarde have all betrayed their fellow mutants to ally themselves with him and with other humans for personal gain at any expense. This can even be seen in their powers; Shaw absorbs the energy of his fellow mutants and turns it around to hurt them, Leland brings down everyone around him to lift himself up, and Wyngarde literally enslaves Jean. They have no loyalty, honor, or solidarity with each other or anyone else, which elevates them from another standard group of supervillains to some of the X-Men’s most dangerous enemies.

Issue 133 starts with Logan stalking and then shredding Hellfire soldiers who’ve been sent to confirm his death. The last one he lets live in exchange for information; as he punches him out he reflects on how before the X-Men he would have killed him anyway. Meanwhile, Jean is completely under the illusion that she’s the Black Queen living in the 18th century. Scott remembers their time at Warren’s estate, when they established a permanent psychic connection which he plans to use to break through Jean’s brainwashing. Meanwhile, Shaw tells Kurt the reason they’re still alive- he plans to experiment on them to extract and sell their mutant DNA. You could draw parallels between Shaw and the many slavers throughout history who sold their own people as slaves. Meanwhile, Xavier finally admits to Warren and to himself that he resents Scott for taking on the role he trained him for, his successor as leader of the X-Men. He finally recognizes his recent mistakes but fears it may be to late. Speaking of which, Logan is attempting to fight his way to the X-Men, but he’s taking too long, and a desperate Scott enters Jean’s astral plane to find Wyngarde, who, in a mirror of Xavier’s duel with the Shadow King, conjures swords for them both and stabs Scott through the heart.

As Scott lays in shock on the ground, Logan bursts through the door to save his friends. It seems like a futile effort, but to everyone’s surprise, Jean’s broken Wyngarde’s hold on her on her own. She frees Scott, who frees his team, and this time they have their enemies on the ropes. The fight scene is great, with lots of good character moments, from Kurt juggling Shaw with his feet and singing, to Peter getting his second wind and overpowering Pierce while asserting his pride in his mutant heritage and his security in his own inner humanity, to perhaps the most notable of all: when Scott orders a retreat, Logan is disappointed but agrees without question. Meanwhile, Jean has caught up to Wyngarde and goes ballistic on him, telekinetically torturing him before opening up his mind to receive all of the cosmic knowledge she experienced in the M’Kraan Crystal. Unlike Jean, Wyngarde can’t handle it, and is left catatonic. Jean has broken his hold on her, but he still unknowingly unlocked the full potential that she had subconsciously closed off from herself after her brush with godhood. This time, it’s too late for her to stop herself, and just when the group thinks they’re home free, she appears in a new crimson red costume, declaring herself once more the Phoenix and attacking her friends.

I don’t have much more to say here. This was a great middle chapter with perfectly paced tension and some of the best action in the series so far. And just when you think the heroes are safe, the twist comes, and you know that one way or another, the team will never be the same.

#wes reads xmen

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lucifer-is-a-bag-of-dicks · 3 years

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Not Enough

has anyone else just wanted Danny to go completely fucking feral at Dash? anyone?

yeah me too

this is some truly self-indulgent shit y'all

"Hey Fenton!"

Danny slammed his locker shut, sighing as Dash clapped him roughly on the shoulder.

"I'm throwin' a huge ass Halloween party this weekend, ghosts are all about Halloween right? You should totally come!"

It wasn't the first party Danny had been invited to since being outed as Phantom, but somehow Dash didn't seem to get the hint that he wasn't even remotely interested.

"No." Danny snapped, he threw his bag over his shoulder and turned his back on Dash, walking away without another word.

"What's your problem?"

Danny stopped, turning back around with a face of utter disdain.

"Excuse me?"

"I've been trying to be nice, but all you do is just brush me off! Like you can't even pretend to be busy or something?"

Danny stared, mouth halfway open as he tried to find the words to respond.

"Are you actually serious?" he finally choked out, almost too bewildered to be angry.

Almost.

"You're not still mad about all that stuff from before right?" Dash asked. "Like, I don't even do that shit anymore, it's over."

"Is it?" Danny's eyes flashed brightly and Dash took a half step back as the air went cold. "Because I'm pretty sure it was just yesterday that I pulled Mikey out of his locker."

"Well, yeah but that was Mikey." Dash laughed. "C'mon man, I wouldn't do that to you. We're totally cool now, so why you gotta keep blowing me off? You talk to Kwan like it's not big deal, and he used to wail on you all the time!"

Danny took a deep, slow breath, then another.

"Have you considered that maybe it's because I don't like you?" Danny said through gritted teeth.

Dash huffed, shoving his hands into his pockets and staring at the ground.

"Look, I get it, I was a jerk, but it's over! I'm actually trying to be nice, now you're the one being an asshole."

Danny looked as though he'd been slapped.

"You're such a fucking idiot Dash." Said Danny, his voice trembling with barely restrained rage. "You can't just treat someone like shit every single day for two years and then expect them to get over it because you invited them to a few parties."

"Then how come Kwan gets to hang out with you?" Dash could feel his face heating up. "You're just gonna let him off the hook? That's not fair!"

"HE APOLOGISED!"

In one thunderous moment, every locker in the hallway slammed open, sending papers and books flying across the floor. The few students still packing up their things got the fuck out of dodge, whether this was a ghost thing or a Fenton thing (was there even a difference at this point?) they wanted no part of it.

Dash couldn't move, his feet felt heavy, he wasn't entirely sure if Danny had done something to him with his ghost powers, or if he was just afraid.

Because he was certainly afraid.

Even after everyone found out, Danny still didn't use his powers at school unless it was a ghost emergency. He didn't use them for pranks, didn't use them to get even, didn't even use them to show off.

But he was sure as hell using them now, and Dash suddenly realised why he was always holding himself back.

He was terrifying.

Danny took a few steps forward, stopping barely an arm's length away from where Dash was rooted to the spot, trembling.

"Kwan apologised to me." He said, quietly this time. "He apologised to my friends, he even apologised to some other kids, and when I told him that I wasn't ready to forgive him, he accepted that and left me alone until I was ready to talk to him again."

Dash wanted to speak, but he couldn't seem to make his brain form the words he needed, it was too busy buzzing with danger run danger get out run run RUN.

"You made every single day of my life miserable for two whole fucking years, and that isn't even counting the bullshit you pulled in middle school. How do you feel right now Dash? Does it scare you to be around me? Does it scare you to be at the mercy of someone that you know damn well can hurt you?" Danny leant in, grabbing a fistful of letterman jacket. "I hope it does, because now maybe you'll have an idea what it was like for me going to school every fucking day knowing that you would be there, ready and waiting to hurt me. Every single FUCKING day."

Dash found himself being thrown backwards, his feet finally able to move again as he caught himself.

"I'm s-sor-sorry." he mumbled, his lips felt numb and tingly and his head swam with panic as he struggled to get the words out. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry."

"Are you?" Danny's voice cracked, his face wasn't twisted in rage anymore, his eyes were blue once again, and shining with tears. "Are you really sorry for hurting me? Or are you just sorry that the guy you were beating the shit out of turned out to be Phantom?"

"I didn't... I didn't know." Dash gasped out, he could barely hear his own words, all he could hear was his own heart beating loudly in his ears as he struggled to draw in breath. "I didn't know it was like that, I just thought-"

Thought what? What had he thought? That he wasn't really hurting anyone? That it wasn't that big a deal?

No, he hadn't thought that, because he hadn't thought at all.

"And you're gonna stand here and tell me I'm an asshole." Danny was almost sobbing as he raggedly spat out each word. "Because I won't forgive you for something you never even apologised for. This is the first time you even acknowledged that you were an absolute jerk to me, and you followed it up by demanding that I just get over it."

Dash stared down at the floor, it sounded terrible when Danny put it like that.

"I wasn't... demanding anything." he said, he was embarrassed by how whiny he sounded. "I was just trying to make it up to you, I was trying, I just thought... it's not fair that I can't have second chance. I was trying so hard and all I wanted was a second chance-"

"I DON'T CARE." Danny's eyes were screwed up tight, but it didn't stop the tears of fury from pouring down his cheeks, his voice so shredded with pain it was barely recognisable. "I DON'T CARE ABOUT YOU. I DON'T CARE ABOUT WHAT YOU WANT. I DON'T OWE YOU A SECOND CHANCE. I DON'T OWE YOU ANYTHING. YOU FUCKED ME UP AND YOU. CAN'T. FIX IT."

Dash didn't know what to do. Danny was openly sobbing, his breaths came out in grunts as he couldn't hold the rage and misery back.

He was still standing within arm's reach, Dash cautiously put out a hand, to comfort him? He wasn't sure, but he barely brushed Danny's shoulder before Dash found himself spinning violently and his cheekbone exploded with sudden pain as he hit the floor. Cold hands drew away from him roughly.

"DON'T TOUCH ME." Danny screamed. "DON'T YOU EVER FUCKING TOUCH ME EVER AGAIN."

Dash watched as Danny grabbed his backpack and his footsteps disappeared down the hall.

It was over, just like that it was over.

Dash sat up and touched his face, he wasn't bleeding but he knew it would bruise pretty bad. It hurt, he would be squinting through one eye for a few days.

Danny could have done this to him at any time, he could have done it to him every day if he wanted, and maybe he would, now that he'd done it once.

The thought made Dash feel cold as dread pooled in his stomach.

The next day Dash told people he'd gotten his black eye from playing football, his team knew it wasn't true, but they didn't ask. He kept his eye out for Danny, wondering if he would pop up invisibly and knock him off his feet, or drag him through the floor, or hit him when nobody was looking.

He clung to Kwan's side all day, afraid to be alone.

Phantom could be anywhere, he could get him anywhere, if he wanted to hurt Dash nobody would be able to stop him.

Nobody had been able to stop Dash, and he didn't even have superpowers.

But in the end, nothing happened.

Dash went through the day untouched. Danny didn't even look his way. Not once. He just acted like yesterday never happened.

But it did happen, Dash still had the bruise on his cheek, and the terror set deep in his bones.

In the following days, weeks, months, Danny still never touched him, never looked at him, never talked to him. Dash realised that Danny probably wasn't going to do anything else after all, that maybe he hadn't even meant to hurt him in the first place.

He was a hero after all, he protected people, even people he didn't like. The only time he had ever come into contact with Dash again was to haul him out of the way of a ghost, and he did so with the same care as he would with anyone else.

Danny wasn't like him, he didn't gloat about hurting him, he didn't revel in the fact that Dash was scared of him. He just went about his day, acting for all the world like Dash didn't even exist.

Dash never gave him a true apology, it was clear Danny didn't want one, it was far too late for that.

It left Dash with a sick feeling of unfulfillment. He understood now what Danny had been going through, the pain, the terror, he wanted Danny to know that he was truly sorry, that he really had changed this time.

But he couldn't, because forcing an unwanted apology on him would just make Dash the asshole all over again, he was trying to steal a forgiveness that he could never have.

So he had to find his closure somewhere else.

He stopped picking on Mikey, and Nathan, and all of the other nerds he frequently hassled. He even tried apologising to them, some forgave him, others didn't, and he had to be okay with that. He struggled not to lash out, it still felt unfair, the world had always told him that you were supposed to forgive people when they apologised. It always happened that way on tv, in the cartoons he grew up watching. The mean kid would apologise, the other kids would forgive him, and they would all become friends.

He was realising that the real world was a whole lot more complicated than that, he didn't earn forgiveness just because apologising was hard, he was learning fast that he didn't earn any brownie points for taking responsibility for his actions. He was just doing what any decent person should.

It took him a while to come to terms with that, to stop being angry at people for not letting him make it up to them. For not letting him prove that he had changed.

All it took was to occasionally pass by Danny in the hallways for him to cool his jets and think more clearly. To remind him that he was the bad guy, he was the one who hurt people, that his victims did not owe him anything.

In his last year of school, he had found himself watching the juniors below him falling into the same behaviours, the same struggle for power and control. Pushing other kids around without so much as sparing a thought to how it made them feel.

After a lengthy chat with Mr Lancer, Dash was given permission to pull out younger students from detention one day a week. He would talk to them, ask about their lives, ask about their feelings. He would ask why they lashed out, why they thought it was okay to treat people that way. Most of them didn't have an answer, or simply refused to give one, but he would push, he wouldn't let them hide in ignorance like he did.

Some of them did feel guilt for the way they treated people, and they only needed someone they could talk to who could understand what they were going through, so they wouldn't take it out on whoever was around at the time.

Others would take more effort, they need a far stronger push in the right direction, they were defensive and combative, selfish and unapologetic.

Dash had been one of those kids, he knew they would be hard work, but he did his best. He couldn't help all of them, some were simply unwilling to change.

So he contacted the school-board, he pushed for better protection for students, more programs to help troubled kids, he volunteered to keep running his own counselling groups even after he graduated.

It still never felt like enough.

After graduation he turned down his favoured college to attend one closer to home so he could continue his volunteer work. He joined petitions and rallies for change across entire school districts, he spoke at other schools' anti-bullying campaigns. He'd attended enough of them in his own childhood that he knew they did next to nothing, but it gave him the opportunity to reach out to kids for one on one support.

He found more volunteers for his counselling groups, he helped people start them up in other local schools. It was a lot of work, especially when he was also juggling his college studies. He was taking a major in psychology, it was brutal, Dash had never been good at studying, but he'd decided that this was what he needed to do, this was important to him.

It still wasn't enough.

It would come at him in the night, as soon as he laid his head down on his pillow. He would see the faces of all the kids he hurt, it felt so much worse the older he got, they just looked younger and younger every time the memories came back to plague him.

He had beat the shit out of children. Kids who were the same age as the students he now counselled. He beat them until they were bloody or bruised, he shoved them into lockers, pulled pranks that humiliated them in front of the whole school, and he had laughed.

He'd laughed at their pain.

When the guilt weighed him down, he would begin searching for new programs to volunteer for, new petitions or rallies to get behind, always finding another way to help protect kids like Danny from kids like him.

And to protect kids like him from doing things that would one day haunt them.

He had spread himself thin across every school in the district, barely keeping afloat at college, but it wasn't enough.

It was never enough.

Kids still slipped through the cracks, schools were still too lenient, there were too many kids, not enough volunteers.

Casper High was holding another anti-bullying assembly. It had been a few years since Dash had attended one at his old school. This year they had excitedly announced that they'd even secured an appearance from Phantom himself.

Dash's blood ran cold, his hands shook as he went over his notes, he was slated to do his speech alongside Phantom's, they would be sharing the stage for a solid 75 minutes, barely a few feet from one another.

When Danny showed up he was already in Phantom form, Dash spotted him discussing emergency exit plans with one of the organisers in the event of a ghost attack.

He was so different from when they were in school.

He was tall, and broad, he stood with confidence and had a good natured charm to him. He was a hero, he was strong, he was brave. He could fight monsters ten times his size with a smirk and a witty one liner. He could take on anything, he wasn't afraid of anything.

He was a kid, running down a hallway, screaming words that still pierced through Dash's mind every time he saw the hero's face.

"DON'T TOUCH ME."

Dash's hands clenched around his notes, shaking so violently that they barely even looked like words.

"DON'T YOU EVER FUCKING TOUCH ME EVER AGAIN."

"Dash?"

A deep voice cut through the chaos in Dash's mind as cold hands closed over his tremblings ones.

"It's good to see you again."

Phantom was smiling at him, his hands still closed around Dash's.

"Good... good to see you too." Dash mumbled, not able to meet the man's eyes.

Phantom paused before releasing Dash's hands.

"I've heard all about your work." Phantom grinned as Dash finally looked up and met his eyes.

"Yeah." he said, and then before his mind could catch up with his mouth, he blurted out, "I'm sorry, for everything."

Phantom's eyebrows rose for a moment, before he gave a gentle smile and clapped a hand on Dash's shoulder.

"I know." he said warmly. "Thank you."

They gave their speeches, Dash had told his story many times before, the victim that he'd pushed to breaking point, the boy whose words drove the change that made him the man he had become.

For the first time ever, that boy was listening.

After the assembly had packed up and the volunteers were heading home, it was Danny Fenton who approached Dash and asked if he wanted to go grab a beer together.

Dash thought it would be rather awkward, but Danny had plenty of experience socialising with the public, awkwardness slid right off him, and soon enough Dash found himself laughing alongside Danny as he told a story about the new misadventures of the Box Ghost.

He returned to his dorm that night, head still swimming from one too many beers, and he had the best sleep of his life.

He pulled back on some of his volunteer work, hunting for new people to take his place as he focused on college. He was falling far behind, but he would work hard to make his way back. As a volunteer he could only do so much, but with the right education and training, he could do so much more.

The guilt still haunted him, every so often when the pressure and the stress weighed heavy, it would creep back into his mind. It would probably never go away, not entirely, but at least now he had his closure.

Finally, it was enough.

#lula's fanfics #I'm still in a creativity funk so this isn't like #my best work #but I needed to get it out of my system #danny phantom #dash baxter #danny phantom fanfiction #tw bullying

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rnelodyy · 3 years

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c!Dream and the rules

(/dsmp /rp, all names refer to characters, not content creators)

I think one of the most striking parts of Exile is something that I rarely see talked about, and it’s Dream’s rules. Or rather, how his rules were made to be used as justification to hurt Tommy.

The thing about exile is that, outside of the initial rule of “Don’t go back to L’Manburg”, Dream never told Tommy the rules, yet constantly operated under the assumption that Tommy already knew them, and had accepted them. The rules also changed constantly, without Tommy ever being notified until he was already in trouble.

The second time Dream told Tommy to put his armor in the hole, he didn’t tell Tommy to do that right away. Instead, the conversation went like this (slightly edited to remove stammering and unrelated dialogue).

Dream: Do you have, uh… something you wanna put on the floor here? Tommy: Yes. (drops two pieces of red concrete as Dream digs a hole) Dre-eam! You’re evil. You’re evil. Dream: Anything else, Tommy? Tommy: Nope! Dream: Oh c’mon, I know there’s something else you wanna drop down here. Tommy: (panicking slightly) No, there… (messages BBH “take this and run”, throws him the disc BBH had gifted him earlier) Um… I don’t reckon there is! (pause) Dream: Okay, are you suuuure? Tommy: YES. Dream: Alright… How ‘bout your armor, Tommy? Tommy: Well, no, this is- I actually earned this myself. Dream: I know you did! Tommy: Leave me alone. Dream: Just drop it in the hole, Tommy. Tommy: Wh- no, NO, you can’t just come and demand things from me! I’ve been exiled, I’ve done your shit, what do you mean?! Dream: (sing-song) Tommy… Tommy: What? (Dream hits Tommy with his axe, taking over half his health) Tommy: (screams, drops his armor) OKAY OKAY OKAY OKAY OKAY OKAY OKAY!

The only rule Tommy was aware of at this time was that he wasn’t allowed to go back to L’Manburg. Dream had taken his armor the night before, but there was no indication that he expected Tommy to do this constantly. Taking his armor upon initially arriving at Logstedshire made some kind of sense, allowing Tommy to keep it would run the risk of him trying to fight his way back into L’Manburg. Taking his new, very shitty armor (seriously it was an iron chestplate and a pair of golden leggings he got from a ruined portal chest) made no sense at all, so the fact that Tommy was confused and refused to cooperate at first isn’t unexpected in the slightest.

And the thing is… Dream was aware of this fact. Throughout the conversation, he never really sounded annoyed, and was actively teasing Tommy at times. This isn’t a good thing btw, it’s a sign that he was fully aware that Tommy didn’t know what he wanted from him, and that that would create a situation where Dream could “put him in his place” as it were.

If you’re a parent, and your kid does something that’s not allowed, without knowing it’s not allowed, you don’t start off with a beating. You sit them down, calmly explain the rules to them and explain why those rules are there, then send them on their way with the knowledge that they shouldn't do it again.

This interaction wasn’t an instance of Tommy acting out and Dream correcting him. This interaction was a trap. Dream set Tommy up to fail by not telling him the rules beforehand, and when Tommy offered even the slightest bit of resistance and asked why he needed to drop his armor, Dream jumped straight to beating him. It’s a powerplay, plain and simple.

This is demonstrated again with the destruction of Logstedshire. Dream got pissed that Tommy disobeyed him by having hidden chests with gear under his house, and retaliated by destroying everything Tommy had built, destroying every item he’d collected, killing his pet and only foodsource, barring him from the Nether, banning everyone except himself from visiting, and telling him to start over from scratch after a whole lecture about how Tommy betrayed him.

Again, I wanna point out some specific lines from this lecture that illustrate my point very well.

Dream: You were lying to me! You were lying to me. Tommy: No- Why was I lying?! Dream: What do you mean, why were you lying?! Tommy: I wasn’t hi- I wasn’t- Dream: You hid things in a chest knowing they were things I wouldn’t want you to have! And you hid it in a way that way I would never find it!

Except Tommy didn’t know that. The contents of the stash were all items that Tommy had obtained previously without any issue (diamonds, emeralds, iron, ender pearls, some pickaxes, and some purely sentimental items like flowers, a jukebox, and pictures of Tubbo and L’Manburg). In fact, the vast majority of them came from Tommy’s aboveground storage, which Dream had full access to, and had looked through before!

Dream also never said Tommy wasn’t allowed to hide stuff, and there was nothing to suggest he didn’t want Tommy to keep secrets from him.

There’s been a theory floating around for a while that Dream knew about Tommy’s item stash beforehand, since it was a very strange place to dig a hole (like, right in front of the house in the center of Logstedshire itself, instead of out in the plains where the TNT wouldn’t damage any structures), and Tommy had previously forgotten to cover up the entrance ladder. While Dream hadn’t looked inside the house, he would’ve definitely heard Tommy place the block back.

If this theory is correct, then this was yet another trap. Dream knew Tommy had a hidden room, and instead of just saying “hey, I don’t want you to have a hidden stash, go put this back and fill in the room” (which would’ve still been bullshit btw), he went COMPLETELY ballistic, destroyed EVERYTHING Tommy had, and while doing it, kept admonishing Tommy for betraying him, said shit like “I thought we were friends”, and even accused him of preparing to attack Dream. Again, a powerplay.

Hell, even the exile conflict itself is this! Tommy was exiled for griefing the king’s property while being a high-ranking official in L’Manburg. Except Fundy, the then-president’s son, CONSTANTLY griefed Eret’s shit after the L’Manburg war, ranging from ripping down one of their towers to “shrink” it, filling another tower with water, and multiple elaborate plots to steal the throne from under their nose. But apparently, between all of that shit and the exile-conflict, the rules were silently changed, meaning Dream could exile Tommy for breaking a couple blocks and placing some rude signs in George’s house. Even the punishment itself was changed without warning, as Tommy went from being exiled from L’Manburg to exiled from “everywhere that’s ever been touched.”

...I was originally gonna make a different point here. I may put it in the reblogs, because I still think it’s very interesting. But, in the middle of writing this essay I had to stop because it was late, then I spent the entire next day packing up because I’m in the middle of a move. It's now the next evening, I'm sat in my new room, on my camping bed, I opened this doc because I pretty much forgot what I typed, I reread it, and then I realized… This isn’t an isolated series of events. This is a pattern for Dream.

Before Tommy first joined the server, there were only three set rules: no stealing, no griefing, and no killing people. Except by that point, those rules weren’t enforced at all. In fact, Dream broke all three at once at one point, by killing George and burning his diamond armor because he didn’t feel it was fair that George got to run around in full diamond when everyone else still had iron.

Tommy joined the server, and broke the rules like everyone else. He stole shit, broke shit, killed George for funsies… and he got exiled for it. Seriously, they dumped him in an empty snowfield for breaking rules that nobody had enforced for weeks. So technically, the Exile-arc isn’t even the first time something like this has happened to him!

During the events that would eventually spark the Disc War, Sapnap stole a bunch of Tommy’s items (including the only Netherite chestplate on the server at the time), and told him he’d only give the stuff back if Tommy helped him with a conflict he had with Ponk. Long story short, Dream tried to intervene and was killed by Tommy and Sapnap, and Dream stole Tommy’s discs to force him to apologize. He then kept the discs, and the Disc War followed. Sapnap, despite being the aggressor and arguably forcing Tommy to participate in the conflict, was never punished.

This proves not only that the rules can change whenever Dream feels like it, but that they’re arbitrarily enforced. Dream refuses to punish his friends for the same crimes he endlessly fucks over Tommy for.

L’Manburg was created in part because of the fact that the rules were unevenly enforced. Tommy, Wilbur, and later Tubbo were repeatedly killed, stolen from, imprisoned, and even held hostage for very minor crimes, while the people killing, imprisoning, kidnapping and stealing from them were able to do so without impunity.

This was also the point where Dream just started making up new rules; there was no rule against having governments on the server, or making a separate area where Dream’s rules wouldn’t apply, so Dream banned governments, and used this new rule as an excuse to kill them, take their items, and tear their land to shreds.

And that’s another thing: the punishments for breaking Dream’s rules are INCREDIBLY harsh.

Kill him non-canonically one time? Your most prized possessions will now be dangled over your head and used to hurt you for the next few months.

Make a country with different laws that doesn’t infringe on anyone’s territory, has no desire to expand, is explicitly pacifistic and open to trade negotiations? You’ll be forced to fight a war you’re in no way equipped to fight, you’ll be betrayed and murdered and have your land destroyed in front of your very eyes until you literally have no choice but to surrender.

Mildly vandalize the king’s house, which nobody else has ever been punished for? You’ll be dragged into court, exiled from your home, and subjected to weeks of abuse until you believe that all of your friends hate you and you actively want to kill yourself.

Hide some stuff in a secret chest? Your only shelter will be exploded, your pet/only food source will be killed, all your items will be destroyed, you’ll be banned from the Nether, and none of your friends will be allowed to come see you.

This is all such disproportionate retribution it’s ridiculous. It’s like punishing someone for speeding by blowing up their car with a ballistic missile.

So to sum up: Dream’s rules are arbitrarily enforced, and he can just straight up make them up on the spot if he feels like it. Sometimes, he won’t tell you a rule exists until you’ve already broken it, and you’re treated as if you broke it out of malice instead of genuine ignorance. And if you do break a rule, and he decides you have to be punished, it will always be a punishment so harsh it doesn’t even ATTEMPT to fit the crime.

I don’t know about you, but that sounds pretty fucking corrupt and tyrannical to me.

When people say Tommy deserved exile, or made Dream spiral into villainy, or abused Dream somehow (seriously I’ve seen this take multiple times and every time it makes my brain melt) by breaking the rules, I would invite them to take a step back and ask themselves, why did that rule exist? Did Tommy know it existed? Was it enforced for everyone other than him as well? Does the punishment fit the crime?

Dream has a bad habit of making up rules, or enforcing old ones that were never enforced before, to punish those who threaten his power. None of the Dream Team were ever punished for anything, despite committing the same crimes as the L’Manburgians. That is, until they founded Mexican L’Manburg (i.e. went against Dream’s rule), at which point they were attacked by Dream and George was dethroned for “not being neutral enough.”

Tommy should’ve faced consequences for what he did. But those consequences should’ve come naturally, and been carried out by the people he hurt. Like, if Dream hadn’t intervened, griefing George’s house would’ve resulted in George griefing Tommy back in revenge. In fact, he DID do that, by turning Tommy’s entire house into granite and putting the Jump In The Cadillac picture on his front lawn.

These are natural, proportionate consequences. Exile was none of that. The Disc War was none of that. Everything that happened to L’Manburg was none of that.

Dream’s rules and how he enforces them are inherently corrupt and tyrannical. To pretend it’s anything but is disingenuous at best.

#dream smp #dsmp #dsmp analysis #c!dream #c!tommy #tommyinnit #dreamwastaken #i had a COMPLETELY different point that i wanted to make but then i thought about it and went w a i t #uhhh if you wanna hear my original point lemme know i guess #anyway c!dream is such an interesting character! i hate him!#little green bastard man #c!dream critical

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whump-a-la-mode · 3 years

Note

Ok so I had a prompt idea? We’re all familiar with the “villain is sent to a ‘rehabilitation center’ that turns out to be secretly torturing the villains there” trope, but consider this: scared villain is captured by a kind hero and sent to a villain rehabilitation center, and villain has never experienced such warmth and kindness! Not to mention frequent visits from hero to check up/see how they’re doing. Maybe it’s no good but just a thought I had; I love your writing so much!! 💛🌼

(No pressure though, I know you’re probably busy!)

Oh, I absolutely love this prompt! Evil rehab centers are all well and good, but I’d never thought of one as being a source of comfort. I hope you like this! I was going to do some more with it, but it was already running a little long ^^

Thanks so much for the prompt!

CW//Arson, burning buildings, smoke inhalation, fear of death, gross food, mentions of torture, animal disease

As though singed by smoke, Villain’s lungs burned.

Even as they gasped, they felt as though they could not inhale a single breath. Yet, somehow, they had enough air to keep going.

It wasn’t as though they had a choice.

They were unsure, at that point, if their legs were truly moving at all. They had lost feeling in them far too long ago to be able to verify such a thing. Somehow, though, they were moving forward. Even if they wanted to, they didn’t know if they could stop, with momentum pushing them as it was.

Everything was riding on this. Days of keeping ahead, of leading the chase. If they stopped moving for just a moment, it would all be wasted.

And their life would be over. If they stopped running now, there would be no Villain left.

In that instant, they understood what it was to be a rabbit. When there was a fox on your tail, there were no do overs. No second chances. It was run or die.

As long as they could, they were going to run.

Villain couldn’t remember the name of the building in which they had managed to find the briefest of respites. Despite its sprawling size, there was nothing truly remarkable about it. Perhaps it did not have a name in the first place. At some point, it had been some sort of industrial complex-- the home of half a dozen separate companies, each clashing and butting up against one another.

Yet, the structure had long since been left to rot. They had a feeling that mold clinging to every corner had something to do with that.

Just a week ago, they would never have dreamed of so much as going someplace like this. The air smelled rotten, and breathing it left a sour taste sticking to their tongue. Not to mention the fact that several animals of varying size and danger had already claimed the rotten complex as their home.

But, they weren’t the same Villain they had been a week ago. Stumbling upon the building had felt like a gift from above, and, the night prior, they’d managed to get some honest-to-god rest among its sodden carpeting.

It was the most rest they’d gotten in days, despite the fact that, halfway through it, they’d awoken to a diseased rat with its teeth buried in their forearm. They’d had worse awakenings.

After shooing away the animal, they’d managed to sleep an hour or so more. Then came the worse of their two awakenings, that night.

The shouting voices of heroes.

Villain didn’t know how they’d found them. There was no trace, no trail. They had no vehicle-- instead moving through the woods on foot. ‘On foot’ was quite literal in that instance, considering the fact that they’d lost their shoes three days ago to a patch of quickmud.

But, still, they’d been found.

They didn’t no how long ago it was, that they’d been awakened by those voices. With the darkened building’s clocks hanging stubbornly on the wrong minute and hour, there was no way to tell how long it had been.

How long they’d been running...

Villain skidded around a corner, hissing as their foot caught on an uprooted carpet tack. Had they been this way before? It was impossible to tell-- all the halls looked the same.

The halls repeated, just as the heroes’ footsteps did.

How were they not tired?

Maybe because they’d eaten. And slept. And had water.

Villain had found that stream the other day, though...

Everything about them seemed to be repeating. The walls. The footsteps.

The lies of the heroes.

“Just stop running! We don’t want to hurt you!”

They couldn’t count just how many times they’d heard those words. Lies. Of course they were lies! Or, perhaps, it was their own sick attempt at a joke. We don’t want to hurt you, we just want to kill you!

Villain wasn’t ready to die. Not just yet.

Another corner was taken with haste, and their nostrils were overwhelmed with the scents of rust and oil.

The garage was massive-- reaching further upwards than the shreds of sunlight filtering through dusty windows could reach with their furthest rays. Its concrete floor stretched out, seemingly, all the way to the horizon-- dotted only by support beams, and whatever scattered machinery and supplies the company had not deemed valuable enough to bring along.

The source of the scent of gasoline was quite rapidly made apart. Stacked haphazardly in the corner, red gas containers stood. Their reek alone made it well known that they were far from empty.

But the gas was far from Villain’s main concern regarding the garage.

In the past few days, they had become awfully good at finding exits. It was with a ruthless instinct that they scanned the room for one.

But, in the end, they reached a terrifying conclusion.

There was one exit. It was the same door as the entrance. The garage doors on the other side of the chamber had long since been chained shut, and there was no time for lockpicking.

The heroes flooded in.

It was with an exhausted hopelessness and steadfast stubbornness that they kept running forth. Of course, with their terrible luck, they did not make it very far. A rebar pipe caught their toes, sending them sprawling onto the concrete, pain shrieking from a thousand different, tiny wounds.

For a few seconds, Villain let themself breathe. They figured that, at the very least, they should let themself enjoy their last moments alive.

Their relaxation did not last long. They refused to die laying down. Trembling from exhaustion, pain, starvation, dehydration, and terror, all at once, they staggered to their feet. For a moment, their vision blurred, before solidifying once more.

Half a dozen heroes fanned out before the entrance, guarding it ruthlessly. Faux looks of concern painted their countenances.

From the array of aches and pains swarming Villain, a single one, all at once, made itself known. Something pressing up against their leg.

Their lighter.

Their trembling gaze flicked to the pile of glimmering red gas cans. It was behind them-- only a few steps back. If they could just...

“Villain!” The person in the front of the group called out-- Hero. “There’s nowhere else to go. It’s okay. Everything’s okay. You just need to come with us. You can’t survive like this much longer, you know that!”

No. What they couldn’t survive was the heroes.

But, they didn’t have to.

Villain took a step back, inching towards the pile.

“Come on, buddy!” Another hero called. “What are you so afraid of?”

It was the heroes who should be afraid. Another step back.

“There’s nowhere to run, Villain.” Hero spoke once more. “Just come with us. No harm will come to you, I swear to it.”

No.

Villain wasn’t ready to die. Not today.

They took the final step, until they were mere inches from the pile. With a well-placed kick, and a horrible clattering, the cans toppled from their precarious pyramid. The reek of gas grew tenfold as brown liquid spilled out, onto the concrete below.

Stepping back from the gasoline-- they were ready to go, not just yet-- they reached into their pocket. The heroes had no time to identify the object they pulled out. By the time they realized what had happened, the lighter had already been thrown.

The flame leapt into the air with such force that Villain was thrown back, tossed to the concrete like a ragdoll.

The faux compassion on the heroes faces turned to an emotion that was very, very real.

Fear.

Spreading so fast that its growth could be heard, the inferno pounced, grabbing onto the base of a wooden support beam and licking its way upwards.

“Everyone!” Hero shouted-- terror in their voice overpowered by sheer determination. “Get out! This building’s not stable.”

“W-what about you?”

“If I’m not out within five minutes, send someone in after me.”

“Are you certain?”

“We’re heroes. And, sometimes, that means saving villains, too.”

Despite their clear reluctance, the other heroes, one by one, nodded, allowing their terror to spur them to flee.

When the last of them was gone, only two remained in the garage. The villain and the hero.

Villain looked upwards, watching as the flame reached the top of the support beam and rippled onto the ceiling.

There were only two ways this could end. They knew that.

Either Hero lost their nerve and fled, allowing their prey to escape, or they both perished in the flames.

No matter which came to pass, there was only one thing that mattered:

They would not die by the hands of a hero.

“You’re scared.” Hero began. Another stupid speech. “I know. I know you’re scared. This last week has been hell for you, I know that. But it doesn’t have to go down like this. You can still make the right choice.

Please. Come with me. I don’t want to hurt you. Believe it or not, I don’t want you to die!”

“You’re a bad liar, you know.” They croaked.

Villain’s lungs were already torn from gasping. The slowly-rising smoke only served to salt their wounds.

Before them, a flaming ceiling tile fell, spraying them with embers.

“You don’t want this! I know you don’t! You don’t want to die!”

“Why do you think I’m doing this?! Of course I don’t want to die, you fucking idiot!”

“Then come with me!”

“It’s like you don’t even hear yourself.”

The building shuddered as a support beam splintered and collapsed. The force of it sent Villain, once again, to the concrete, bathing their face in smoke. As they scrambled to their hands and knees, they could not help but let out a shuddering cough.

“Villain! Watch out!”

“Wh-”

The ceiling tile struck their head, burying them under its accompanying rubble.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Warmth... and music.

They awoke to warmth, and music.

The first of the two came in the form of something soft, heavy, enveloping them, making them feel as though they were buried within a cloud. The music, too, seemed to surround them-- there were no words to it, just the soft, lulling tone of a piano, accompanied by the occasional splash of waves.

It was confusion that first whispered to Villain, when their leaden eyelids at last agreed to open. Above them sat an off-white sky, stretching out to meet with a light blue wall. They blinked once more.

Where...

The chase the heroes the running the building the gas the fire the rubble the-

Villain jolted upright, tossing off of themself a heavy, fleece blanket. Trembling fingers gripped the mattress below them as they scanned the world around, instincts kicking in, searching frantically for an exit.

The room was small, walls colored a soft, baby blue, and lit by a pair of lamps with warm, orange bulbs. The few items of furniture were made of a light brown wood-- three small nightstands, two in corners, and one next to the bed in which Villain lay.

Next to one of the stands was placed a small writing desk and chair, while the other was accompanied by a potted plant, petals just starting to emerge from its buds. Embedded in one wall, a window stood, a small radio perched upon its sill.

The door was at the room’s far end, next to their bed. A wooden door with brass handle-- easy to break down.

But guarded.

Before the door, a figure stood-- a person dressed in a bright flannel, from the breast pocket of which stuck an overabundance of pens.

They did not look particularly strong, but, then again, neither did Villain. At the sound of their movement, the figure turned to face them, a smile growing upon their round face.

“I didn’t even notice you waking up.” They hummed. “Good morning.”

There were two options for escape: The door or the window. Neither was particularly desirable, but they had to choose one...

“Hey, buddy.” The stranger’s voice felt almost as warm as the fleece blanket. “You’re looking a bit like a deer in the headlights, there. I’m sure this is all a bit overwhelming, and I’m sure you’re pretty confused. I’d be confused too, trust me.”

No. There was no confusion in Villain’s mind. They were focused on one thing, the only thing that mattered: Getting out of here!

The flannel-wearing figure took a few steps towards the bed. In instinctual panic, the villain scrambled to their hands and knees, shuffling backwards until their spine was flush with the headboard.

“Hey, hey, shhh.” They hushed. “I’m sorry I scared you. I’ll stay right back here, okay?”

“L-Let me out of here!”

The figure frowned.

“Bud, I’m not sure that you’d last another day out there. Not in the state Hero found you in.”

Hero. Of course they were working for Hero.

“I’ll explain everything, alright bud? But let’s just start here. My name’s Doctor. What’s yours?”

Villain only then noticed that they were shaking like a leaf. Whatever this method of torture or interrogation or whatever it is was, they wanted no part in it. They just wanted to go home! To get out! Warm bed or not, this was a prison. They were sure of it.

But, the bed was comfortable, and there wasn’t a single rat in sight...

“How about this...” Doctor coaxed. “You tell me your name, and I’ll tell you what’s going on, okay?”

A trade. Information for information.

Was it worth it? They supposed there was little use in lying.

“V-Villain. My name’s Villain.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Villain.”

“Now, wh-what is this p-place?”

Doctor nodded.

“This is the Supervillain Memorial Villainous Recovery Center. We’re in the city, right by the river. Next to the botanical gardens, if you know where that is.”

They were really telling them the location of their prison? Surely it would have been better to keep such a thing secret. That is, assuming they were telling the truth.

“I believe you’ve been asleep for about... seventeen hours.” Doctor glanced to their watch. “Yep, just about. You’ve been here for maybe half that time. After you got caught in the fire, Hero brought you to the hospital. They bandaged your wounds and brought you here. I hope you slept well.”

Villain almost laughed at that, before a realization struck them. They had slept well. Sure, remnants of the specter of fatigue still haunted them, but for the first time in days, they felt awake enough to think clearly.

But, this was still a prison.

Right?

Prisons didn’t usually have soft beds and fleece blankets, but...

No. It was a trick. This was a prison, and they were a prisoner.

“Let me go.” Villain insisted, though it was halfhearted. “Y-You can’t keep me here! I’m leaving. I need to leave!”

Doctor frowned again, biting their lower lip.

“I’m sorry, Villain, but for now, you’re going to have to stay here. But, I promise, you’ll like it here.” They sighed. “I know you’re scared, and confused, and a thousand other things. But, here, you’re safe. There’s other people here-- quite a few of them, in fact. And, at one point, they were all like you. But ask any one of them. This is the best place for you to be.”

Other people?

“Where are they? W-What are you doing to them?!”

Doctor smiled.

“They’re in our main wing, right now. I believe everyone is eating lunch right about now. I don’t know about you, but where I come from, lunch isn’t a form of torture.”

Villain pursed their lips.

“Then, where am I?”

“This is our arrivals wing. You’re going to stay here, for a few days. Until you’re comfortable, and we can make sure all that smoke is out of your lungs. Then you can join in with everyone else. I’m gonna move over to the side of the bed now, okay? I won’t touch you.”

Even with the warning, Villain couldn’t help but flinch as Doctor approached. They moved to the nightstand at the bed’s side, plucking a small, red box from its surface.

“Hero told me to give this to you, when you got up. It’s not exactly the most nutritious thing to start your day off with, but I think you deserve something tasty.”

They offered the box. After a moment of hesitance, Villain snapped it from their hands, drawing it close to their chest. Was it a threat? Some kind of warning? Morbid curiosity took hold of them, prompting them to open the box’s lid.

Chocolates.

A dozen chocolates, laid out in the design of a star.

“I can eat these?”

“Go ahead.”

Without hesitance, this time, they popped one of the candy pieces into their mouth. Its flavor overwhelmed them, strong enough to nearly knock them over. It’d been days since they’d eaten anything that didn’t come off a bush or from the dumpster.

“Um...” Villain looked back up, closing the box. “So, when are you going to kill me?”

Doctor laughed.

“Hero will be visiting tomorrow. With how long they can talk for, I think you’re only in danger of dying of boredom.”

This was a prison. Of course it was.

Yet, as they glanced down at the box of chocolates, they could not help but forget all thought of panic and escape.

#villain whumpee #whump #hero caretaker #scared whumpee #whumpblr #whump community #ask

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cinnamonest · 3 years

Text

Kaeya Alberich - Yandere Profile

YES I love my eyepatch boy!! I really like him as a yandere, because he's definitely got several traits and behaviors that would make him a very unconventional/different yet absolutely terrifying one to have. Him or Diluc as your yandere is basically like playing a game on maximum difficulty. He's so arrogant dammit why does he have to make it hot

More importantly, someone take the ability to write n/sfw away from me I s2g... I go from trying to make serious content to nasty weird kinks and completely feral in .002 seconds the moment I add that readmore

tws: gaslighting, manipulation, yandere, mentions of mutilation

tws (below cut): noncon, a good deal of sadism, mentions of an*l

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

What are they generally like? Lucid, aware? Obsessive? How do they behave?

He's actually one of the worst yanderes you could have in almost every regard, for two very simple reasons: his crippling psychological issues, and his intense selfishness. The first manifests as severe abandonment issues. It's the origin of his unhealthy feelings, most likely. Kaeya doesn't like the instability of people - based on his backstory, people always leave, or die, and even if they don't intend to, somehow it feels like abandonment, and he resents it. People leave him all alone and afraid and uncertain. That's generally all he knows, and despite the smug exterior, he's actually pushed people away quite a bit, keeps everyone at arm's length to ensure they can't become someone too important for him to accept their sudden absence. He can't care about someone, because that someone is fated to inevitably leave him, no matter who it may be.

That's why, once you manage to worm your way into his feelings and heart despite his best efforts, once he finally caves to acknowledging the feeling, he's aware. Painfully aware, because be can't stop worrying every waking moment about you, your well-being, your location. It reaches a point where he can't go about his job because he's simply too consumed with his worry.

The solution that kept him safest in the past was to avoid developing emotional attachments, but when he does, he's terrified of both your safety AND you intentionally abandoning him. Really, the latter would hurt worse, since he can't fault you for dying, but to abandon him? It would break him.

And, to some extent, he's developed a lot of prideful anger about it, deep, deep down. He feels that he doesn't deserve to be abandoned, doesn't deserve to just be left behind under the guise of some greater purpose, and he'll be damned if he just lets you toss him aside like he feels others did. Even if you reject him, he won't accept it. You don't get to reject him. He won't allow that. What has he ever done to deserve everything that's happened to him? Nothing. You're the one person who has stayed with him, and you're going to continue to be with him. Forever.

That being said, he's still somewhat confident because he's got that arrogance about him. He doesn't perceive rejection, because he's always gotten a lot of attention for his looks, even if he's never actually followed through on anyone else's attention out of those same fears. He'll write off any perceived rejection as being for some other reason, something besides an actual rejection, and he'll seek to eliminate whatever he feels is keeping you from just accepting him.

Honestly, one of the most likely to have a full blown, classic-yandere-style psychotic breakdown. He can be driven to a snapping point, if there's enough stress or obstacles, and in case of that, he'll be a lot more willing to kill, and a lot more willing to hurt you, but it's a point that would still take a lot to reach.

But what's really terrifying about Kaeya is his delusions, primarily his ability to mentally justify everything he does without hesitation. Even most delusional yanderes struggle - they feel like it's wrong, they know it is deep down, and they take time to convince themselves of their delusions, tell themselves it's ok over and over, beg for reassurance, and get defensive when called out because they know they're in the wrong. The same isn't true for Kaeya. He automatically justifies his actions by default, and has absolutely zero doubt or hesitation to do so. He doesn't even need a complex reason for justification - it's a simple one. He deserves what he wants. Anything necessary to achieve that is fair.

How likely are they to kidnap their darling? How quickly will they do so?

Highly likely and very quickly, right up there with Diluc and Razor. And he's absolutely remorseless about it. It ties back into his delusional state and ability to justify anything he does - this is what's best for you. If you don't get that, that's your problem, not his.

He's another one to not want to pull some barbaric move like knocking you out, rather, he'd rather just trick you into walking right into your new home. He gets that you'll be upset about it, but to him, that's just part of the process. Not that he'll tolerate it for too long. 12, maybe 24 hours is enough time for you to reasonably be upset, but if you're still trying to fight him on this after that, he's going to get snappy about it, thinking you should already be over that by now.

How difficult is it to escape from them? How do they keep you restrained? How do they deal with attempted escape?

You're not leaving.

It's not worth trying, really. How he manages to do it is a mystery to you, but he'll manage to keep you locked in right there at the headquarters with him. How Jean and Lisa haven't found out about you being there, how he convinced all of his guards to be on his side of things, you have no idea. Realistically, if you get out, he's likely to make you out to be some kind of criminal that needs to be found -- just not to hurt you in any way, so goes the order, and the knights know better than to question why.

He has eyes and ears everywhere, it won't take them anytime at all to find you. He's so confident in that, and combined with his pride, he doesn't feel the need to go get you himself. No, it's a lot more satisfying to sit back and watch as they drag you through the doors of the headquarters, slowly pull you to the end of the room and drop you down at his feet, where he can look down on you with that closed-eyed, artificially wide smile that tells you that you have seriously fucked up.

Escape attempts aren't going to be met with a single shred of mercy, really. The thing about Kaeya is he's ultimately a selfish, selfish bastard with a lot of deep-seeded, highly repressed emotional issues, and he has absolutely no problem with keeping you bound hand and foot, or maybe even make some permanent modifications to your body if that's what it takes to keep you. It's not a wise idea to even try unless you're absolutely certain to succeed, otherwise you may find yourself never getting the opportunity again. You don't really need those Achilles tendons intact, you know. And your ankle bones are just so fragile, they'll snap with just a little twist. Actually, that wouldn't be too bad, giving you more reasons to be grateful when he's doing everything for you.

He's not one to just let it go, either. No, escape attempts are the one unforgivable thing for him, the one thing that will make him totally and completely snap. You don't get to do that. You're the one thing that doesn't get to just disappear out of his life in a flash. Half the reason he sends the knights to get you rather than going himself is to give him some time to let the rage settle down, otherwise he knows he might not be able to control himself and might end up hurting you even worse than he intends to. He's not going to buy any excuses and won't go any lighter on you if you beg and grovel or anything. But you will apologize -- you get to choose how hard it is. You can apologize the easy way, or, if you don't want to, there are many ways to force it out. But by the end, he'll get an apology, and a promise to never try again, out of you, no matter what that takes. It's by far the worst state you'll ever see him in, and really, once is enough to dissuade you from trying again.

How easy are they to trick, deceive, or manipulate?

You'd have to try pretty hard. He doesn't have the sheer amount of years of life experience like Venti or Zhongli, but he's not the captain for no reason - he's perceptive, and highly intelligent.

Rather than simply mastering reading human voice and facial expressions for telltale signs of deceit, he's good at learning individuals in particular - memorizing the patterns of thought and action of a particular individual, and predicting how they will act. He can do it with everyone else with ease, how much more, then, with the object of an obsession? If you're trying to formulate some plan to trick him, he'll already predict what you'll do, if you lie, he already knows. It's creepier than the others, really, because it's not just that he can tell when you're lying, but rather he already knows you're going to lie or try some scheme before you do it. It feels so tailored and personalized to your thought patterns, it almost feels like an invasion of the privacy of your mind, which, really, is the one privacy you thought you had left.

He's great at gaslighting himself, too. He's a very good liar, and can make you believe anything he wants. He'll target your fears and paranoias, make you believe you're going crazy, and he'll do it all so perfectly you'll never suspect a thing. You'll end up coming to him for protection and guidance, exactly as planned.

How lenient are they? What privileges can you have, and what will you be denied?

Pretty strict. He doesn't let you have any outside contact, and you're limited on what you can do when he's gone. He'll bring you some books, maybe something to draw on -- no sharp writing utensils, though. In his mind, that should be enough to occupy you.

You won't get outside walks or visits. It's just too risky for him, and he really doesn't like seeing other people look at you. If you really, really beg, and you've been on amazing behavior, and you're well into your relationship, maybe a few months or so, there's a chance he'll take you out at nighttime, or sunrise, but at the slightest sign of intentions he doesn't like, you'll be dragged back, and you won't see the sun for a long time.

You'll have a very limited wardrobe, he doesn't see why you even need to wear anything, but if you're going to be stubborn, he can get you something simple, like an old shirt and some underwear, but that's about all you can have. Any requests for actual clothing are going to be denied. It's ridiculous for him to spend money on something you don't need, and besides, he prefers it this way, y'know?

What kind of rules do they have? What kind of punishment would they use?

Generally, it's a simple one: obey. You do what he tells you to do, and you don't do something if he tells you not to. This stems to similar rules that develop: be submissive, don't be argumentative, don't be defiant. Follow those, and you can both be happy, and that's what you want, isn't it? It had better be - he's not very lenient, and will harshly punish even small offenses. As for that punishment... most of it isn't going to be sfw. That's just how he is.

What he will do is emotionally manipulate you, and he's rather good at it. You wanted to escape? Ok. He'll let you have your way, let you be alone. All alone. All by yourself, in a little room, with no one at all, which is exactly how you would have left him, had you succeeded. He knows very well how that kind of loneliness bites. He's not totally cruel, though, and he won't withhold affection from you by the time he returns -- he doesn't need to, you'll already be crying and apologizing, which is exactly what he hoped for. Not that he won't briefly mock you for it.

"If I didn't know any better, I'd say you're crying like that because you actually missed me. Oh, you did? Being all alone isn't particularly fun, now is it? I'm sure you understand that now."

How do they deal with rivals, or perceived rivals? Will they get rid of them? Will they kill them themselves, or find another way?

Kaeya's an insanely jealous person. It doesn't show on his face, but it eats at him internally. It doesn't matter if it's a love interest, a platonic friend, even a family member. It's all the same -- people who want to take your attention away from him, people who you smile at that aren't him, people you love that aren't him. He's not one to delude himself into thinking everyone secretly loves you romantically, rather, it doesn't matter. Romantic interests are the worst threat, sure, but friends and family aren't much better.

He sees himself as above killing, though. He has people to do that for him, and he likes knowing that he has that much power. He's not going to dirty his hands with it, and frankly, they're not even worthy of his time and effort to kill them. Knights and other connections can take care of it just as well.

How easy is it to make them mad? What does their anger look like?

As somewhat previously discussed, the primary form of making him mad is attempting an escape. That's on a whole new level of anger because it strikes at a very deep, wounding insecurity. On a normal day, though, he's more easily exasperated than angry. He gets frustrated somewhat easily, especially if you're trying exceptionally hard to be a brat. He has very clear warning signs. His signature little smirk drops, he gets quiet, he balls his hands into fists and digs his fingernails into his palms. At that stage, he's irritable and might snap at you, but won't get too angry until you ignore those signs and push it.

If you do push him, though, he gets genuinely mad, which is a very quiet anger at first -- he doesn't talk much when he's mad. He acts. You'll know he's snapped when he puts down whatever he's doing, and just silently stomps over to you, face completely empty and flat, looking down at you with a cold expression. It's enough to put fear in you, but at that point, even if you apologize, you're not getting out of whatever he's planned.

So they see you as above them, beneath them, or equal to them?

Strongly in the "below" camp, a rather unusual stance for a yandere. Like many things with him, there's an inexplicable duality going on there. You would think that if you loved someone so strongly you'd kidnap them, kill for them, and potentially suffer consequences just to have them, that you would really think highly of them. On the flip side, you would think that if you really saw someone as lowly, you wouldn't care for them, you'd see them as disposable.

But neither is true for Kaeya, no, he balances both obsessive love and complete narcissism regarding you. You're not disposable, no, he can't live without you, he needs you. But at the same time, you're not gonna be on any kind of pedestal. No, if anything, he sees himself on one, more like a throne, and you on the floor before him, how things should be.

He has a similar mindset to Zhongli or Albedo - you're fragile, you're dumb, you're incapable, and you need someone to care for you, protect you, guide you, someone who knows what's best for you, since you clearly don't. However, he's lacking in the attitude those other two have -- there's no seeing you as an angel here. There's no viewing himself as being absolutely honored to take care of you, or viewing protecting and caring for you as some kind of privilege that they're blessed to do, the way those two do.

No, as much as he loves those things, he'll never admit it, not even to himself really. Rather, his mentality is that you should be grateful. Here he is, a very highly respected, accomplished, capable person, and you...? You have what to offer, exactly? That's right, nothing, really, only cuteness and obedience, the latter of which you refuse to give him even though you really ought to. He's taking on the burden of making sure you don't get yourself killed, and how do you repay him? By getting mad about it, throwing a fit like some little kid? He puts up with your tantrums, which are really undeserved, by the way. He puts up with your disobedience and repeated rule violations, your sheer determination to defy him when he's going out of his way to do what's best for you.

One day, he thinks, you'll mature a little bit and understand why he does what he does, and when you do, you'll come groveling and sniffling about how sorry you are, how you'll never defy him again, how you'll be good and obedient from now on, and he'll love every second of it. He looks forward to that day quite a bit.

"Sigh... you know, you're pretty lucky I love you so much. You could stand to show me a little thanks, don't you think?"

How determined are they for you to love them? How hard will they try to make it happen? Or are they content just having you?

He's strongly determined, and yet... doesn't do much to try. It goes back to his mindset that really, you're the one who should be grateful for him, and eventually, you will love him. He's not gonna grovel to you or try different ways of making you love him, no, he's far too proud for that. But he's a smart man. He knows the effects that complete and total isolation other than one other person can have on someone. He's just going to sit back and wait for that effect to kick in, and slowly watch your fragile little mind deteriorate until you're desperate for affection. At which point, well, he can use it against you.

"You were so mean to me before, weren't you? You fought me every step of the way, and now you're just going to turn around and act like that didn't happen...? Well, if you're really sorry, I'll forgive you. But how am I supposed to believe you really are...? Maybe you can think of a way to prove it, hm?"

Bonus: Is there anything that makes them unique, in comparison to other yanderes?

Probably the severity of his degradation. As aforementioned, most yanderes, even the more confident or cocky individuals, either worship the ground their beloved walks on and sees themselves as beneath them, OR sees their darling as some sort of fragile, angelic being, and they are simply a protector or caretaker to that being.

It's a bit different with him, ever the narcissist. It's a strange duality born out of a rare mix of neediness, obsession, and pride. You're more like a toy, or a pet - an invaluable pet that he could never part with, but a pet nonetheless. He certainly looks down on you more than the average yandere - he mentally associates you as naive, fragile, even dumb like a lot of the aforementioned protector/caretaker types, but without the reverence to make up for it.

It's a bizarre duality that not even he fully understands - don't think for a moment that that means he'll ever tire of you, or view you as disposable. No, he's actually one of the most obsessive ones, yet very demanding of attention and praise, rather than giving it.

He frequently tests you - things like leaving the door unlocked, waiting outside just to see if you'll try it. Seeing you open that door, watching your face go from ecstatic excitement and drop to wide-eyed terror, it's priceless.

"My, my, you didn't waste any time at all, did you? Why do you look so surprised...? You should know I wouldn't slip up that badly."

Pet names, but in the most infuriatingly condescending way, and uses them more often when he's mad and trying to warn you that you're pushing his limits. Particularly fond of "sweetheart," especially with a low warning tone and clenched teeth.

General perverseness: how sexual of a person are they? What’s their drive like? How touchy do they get? Do they have any reservations about sexuality?

Horny fucker, all the way. The man has a lot of stress and frustration in his life already, that much more if you're... less than compliant with your new lifestyle. Sex, especially rough and hard, is a fantastic stress reliever.

Very little reservation. He's not crude about it, but he tends to make subtle innuendos very frequently, and laughs at your embarrassed reactions. Definitely the type to pull the whole shtick in which he says something with a blatant sexual undertone, then elaborates in a way to make it sound like having meant something else, follows with that smirk and says, "Why? What did you think I meant?" It's something he really enjoys doing, and loves to get embarrassed reactions out of people, particularly yourself.

"Touchy" doesn't begin to describe it. Pretty much from the moment you meet him, he's got his hands somewhere on your person. He grabs your shoulders when he stands behind you, he wraps an arm around you from the side when he walks up to you, he's always pressing his hands on your back and sides whenever you're navigating the streets, walking through doorways, wraps an arm around your waist when sitting next to you. It's highly uncomfortable, but really, he's just got something very subtly, but very strongly intimidating about him. You almost don't want to confront him on it. If you do, he'll laugh it off, and stop -- for maybe 48 hours or so, and then he'll be right back at it.

To the surprise of, well, everyone who's ever met him, he doesn't actually live up to the rumors of having been around the block, so to speak. His experience is actually little to none - that kinda happens when you push everyone around you away. Not that he'd ever let you know that, of course, and will probably lie if asked, but you can gleam a little bit of truth from slightly awkward movements and a bit of noticeable shakiness.

How forceful are they? Do they care about your willingness?

Kind of like Razor, the issue is that he loves you, and what better way is there of expressing love? He's not much for gift-giving or words of affirmation - no, he's a lot better with words of degradation, it comes more naturally to him. And he's certainly not one to enjoy acts of service -- well, not doing them, he'll gladly take them as a sign of your love, though. No, he expresses love through touch. It's like how, when you hug someone you really love, someone you missed, you squeeze them extra tight - the love manifests as a physical urge for some strong expression. Humans are physical about their emotions -- we punch walls when we're mad, we jump up and down when we're happy, and when you love someone, sometimes you just really, really want to pound them into a mattress as hard as physically possible. That's normal. That, and really, he's got his vices. He's actually fairly weak when it comes to resisting temptations, and prone to give in to urges for physical sensations like drunkenness and sex.

Is another one to be convinced that, with time, you'll come around. And is absolutely the top candidate to be one for using your own body against you - if you get wet, if you whimper, if you cum, that's just proof that you really do want this, that you're just being difficult because you enjoy being a brat, and he'll be sure to tell you that.

What sort of kinks or fetishes do they have, or would they fill?

This is nearly indistinguishable from punishment, sadistic bastard

D/S dynamics

Arrogant fucker wants to be served and worshipped, you could see it coming from a mile away. Anything that puts you beneath him is going to make him happy - anything where you're where you're supposed to be. There's a lot of options, but it doesn't really matter, as long as he feels like he's in control and ownership of you in some way, and as long as you act accordingly.

He wants it to be something that’s not just for sex, but rather, he’ll end up carrying it over into normal life, whether you like it or not. If you just went along with it in hopes of getting it over with once he cums, you’re going to be in for a treat when it starts to carry over. He gets a little too used to being worshipped, and decides he likes that submissive attitude on you enough to want to see it all the time.

Petplay/Collaring

It really helps that he sees you as something of a pet already, but really, the collar is the selling point. Even if you never go outside, there's something unbearably hot about the possessiveness of it all - really, it's there to remind you of your status as property. He wants to own you, and for you to be forced to acknowledge that he owns you, and there's really no better way to do that than something with his name on it. It's even better with a leash, one he can pull on when he's fucking you to pull you back onto him over, and over, and over, hearing it choke you the more he shortens it.

But really, having you crawl towards him on all fours and obey little commands so simple they're humiliating is pretty nice, too.

Impact pain/painplay

There's really nothing quite so powerful feeling as watching you cry and squirm from it, y'know? He's another one that just likes the marks his hands, belts, or anything else can leave all over the skin of your ass and the back of your legs. The thing with him, though, is it's not even always a punishment, he just does it for fun, and that makes it unpredictable. Will definitely make you count, it's a sadistic torture for your mind and body.

Throatfucking

May be used as a punishment measure, may just be because he's craving it, either way, even if you have a gag reflex, you won't for very long. He'll train it out of you gradually, grabbing the back of your head and just slamming all the way down into your throat, holding you there, making you choke - it's a beautiful sound, really, listening to you gag, all while your throat spasms around him, it's the best feeling, really, and will definitely be used as a threat if you need incentives to behave.

Choking

Ties into the dynamics, but really, there’s not much to say on this one. He likes the power trip from having his hands wrapped around your throat, seeing you struggle, watching your face go red, hearing those little choking noises. It puts power over you into his hands, and if you get pleasure from it against your own will, that’s even better.

How do they feel about pregnancy or babies? Do they want them?

Absolutely one of the ones to use it as a tool. If you have a baby, you'll be so much more bound to him. You'll need him more, you'll want him around more, you'll be much less likely to leave, and in a way it feels a little bit like a sign of ownership over you.

That being said, he's also acutely aware of his jealous tendencies, and realizes he would also be very likely to become jealous if he felt like you loved a baby more than him, or gave it more attention and affection than you do him. He doesn't like the thought.

So ultimately, the latter side prevents him from willingly trying, but if you really, really have defiance issues even after he's tried everything he can to break you help you adjust, he might consider it.

What kind of (nsfw) punishments would they use?

If it's mild enough, he can just take the route of extremely rough fucking - it gets rid of the frustration, he likes hearing you whimper and squeal, and he can leave lots of little bruises as reminders of what not to do in the future.

But, again, he already gets off to putting you in pain - it'll be that much worse when you've done something to deserve it. Harder hits, no mercy whatsoever, and he just loves all your little cries, wiping away your tears and smiling at you, right before bringing down whatever instrument of pain he's chosen again. If you really, really make him mad, and he really wants to make you cry, he's not above fucking your ass, either, watching you cry and beg, but you'll learn with time that begging doesn't ever get you out of anything.

What body parts of their darling do they like the most?

Definitely an ass man. Likes fucking you in doggy, seeing the ripple every time you bounce back off of him, pulling your hair or arms to add some force. He likes seeing all the little red marks that his hands and belts and anything else will leave on the skin, views it like marks of possession. Grabbing, beating, fucking, it's all good.

#Jesus take the wheel im too nasty for this #yandere x reader #yandere genshin impact #yandere kaeya #tw: dark content #tw: noncon #tw: non/con

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arcadejohn127-9 · 3 years

Note

Hii 👋 😁 okay so I'd like to request a valentines date with the brothers and newdatebales but while they are on the date MCs ex who is a complete jerk interrupts their nice time and MCs date makes the ex pay for being so rude. Happy Valentines Day! 💝

Happy valentine's! Ugh exes really can be a pain! I'd fist fight my ex for a stick of gum, no hesitation

Sorry this took so long, I've been asleep for most of the day

Pt.2 = undateables (minus Luke)

Context: you decided to go to the human world for your date

Lucifer:

Restaurant! Always - it's a classic

It was fairly lavish, Everyone was in suits or dresses, the place seemed to glitter from how polished it all was

A small classical band in the back

"I'm having a lovely time, I hope it's all to your liking."

"definitely is, though if you were the one playing the piano I'd make it even better."

"I'll keep that in mind for later."

He smirked, taking a sip of his wine whilst you just beamed

You two have been waiting month's for this renovation and you glad you were able to get it in on Valentines

"Oh! (Y/N) been ages- didn't expect you to be here, who's your friend?"

Your stomach dropped

Your ex just smiled at you two, leaning on your seat

"boyfriend."

"no! No way! You're dating?! I heard you were so broken after our breakup, so glad you were finally able to move on, must of been hard."

"Will you leave? I'm trying to enjoy myself-"

Lucifer glared at them, shifting in his seat incase he had to settle this - he had faith in your strength but knew he wouldn't stay silent for long

"Why so hostile?! I haven't done anything wrong it's not like I've gone and told him how clingy you were or the fact you just LOVED arguing."

"fuck off will you?! I wasn't clingy, you were just distant and barely treated me like a partner and we got into arguements because YOU kept going behind my back."

He finally stepped in, noticing you were getting EXTREMELY worked up and had tears lining your eyes

He pulled your ex around, gripping their face and flashed them his true forms face

They screamed as they shoved themselves away from him, darting away to their table

This made everyone look at them, Lucifer fixing his hair and wiped his gloves with a scented wipe

"how unpleasant, Let's get the check, we can finish this back at the house."

He called over a waiter, quickly paying and collecting the now packaged food

"Just tap me and I'll step in sooner, I know you can handle yourself but I didn't want to give them the satisfaction of seeing you cry."

Mammon:

A drive in movie - wants to show off his hot wheels and attractive partner~

He was pulled all sorts of cheesy moves, the yawn and stretch is one but many

He smiled having you leaned against him with his arm around your shoulder

You told him you were going to get more snacks and he tried to follow you but you said it'll be alright

Though when you came back you saw your ex leaning on mammons car, flirting with him

"Babe! I told them to back off but they kept pushing-"

"I didn't expect to see you here, are you with him?"

"I'm very much with him, he's taken."

You roughly handed mammon the snacks

He knew to keep his mouth shut, that look on your face wasn't something to mess with

"what a shame, I'm glad you finally got over me though, I heard from your friends you disappeared for 6 months."

"yeah, I was busy with living my life not crying over you."

Your exes mouth twitched whilst you just jumped back into your side of the car

"Right, right - so are you two serious or just a fling? I know it's difficult for you to keep a partner - why not keep me company? You're too handsome to be with them, don't you think? There's no way you actually like them-"

They trailed a hand up mammons arm, sending him a wink

He smacked their hand away from him, growing tired of their behaviour

"you listen here I'm in love with them more than your tiny little human brain will ever understand, back away from my car or watch us go on with our date."

When your ex didn't move he grabbed your shirt, pulling you in into a heated kiss

Whilst you two made out your cradled his head, flipping off your ex, mammon didn't have to even look to know what you were doing

He joined in on flipping them off, you both stayed like that until you heard them scoff and leave

"just say the word and I'll do whatever you ask, I won't let them get away with talking to you like that."

When the movie was done you spotted your exes car with the window down, mammon happily through your Popcorn into their window

But it wasn't over, when his car got close enough he took a pocket knife, slashing their car and immediately drove off at high speed

Levithan:

Arcade; was there really anything else?

He was determined to get you all the arcade prizes, using all his skills to make the machine do as he wished

Has used his tail to grab a prize from a rigged claw machine

"what else should we do? I saw a two player shooter finally open up."

"maybe dance dance Revolution? It'll be fun~"

He groaned, not wanting to do physical exercise but smiled when you weren't looking

He knew every dance song and pattern! He was going to impress you so much!

Of course there was a line, two kids hogging it and people recording them

Though things took a turn when your ex showed their face

"i should of known you'd come here, can't seem to stop visiting our old dating spots, huh?"

You rolled your eyes, clutching levithan's hand

If you were going to be honest, you completely forgot this was one of your old date places

You just remembered it was close by and you've been there when you were younger

"get over yourself, I'm on a date with my boyfriend."

"him? Really? I knew I hurt you but I didn't expect you to downgrade this much."

Levi looked down ashamed, anger boiling inside of him at how they spoke to you

He suddenly moved Infront of you, gripping your exes shirt as he pinned them to the photo-booth

"I don't care what you say to me but I know that you're just a cheating liar who gets off making others feel shitty, stay away from us or I will rip you to shreds limb by limb!"

He didn't even know his voice raised, punching the booth beside their head

Your normally timid boyfriend only got like this when you tried to be a better TSL fan than him or he lose his patience with mammon

Your ex cowered under his gaze, darting off as soon as they could

"i- I hope I didn't speak over you! I know you could of easily dealt with them but I just couldn't stand it!"

Satan:

Meausum, very interesting with different moments in history and discoveries all for the public to see - a date for nerds

Good thing you're both nerds (tbh I'd love a date like this)

"I was actually alive when this happened, It was pretty remarkable."

Oh yeah, expect him to be giving you all the classified details of moments in history

You just wished you had him whilst you were doing your history exams, you could of gotten so much extra credit!

"were you ever in any pictures? It would be pretty fun if we spotted you in the back of one of these."

He just laughed, grinning as you slowly began to realize that was an actual possibility

But before you could press on your mouth flew shut

Your ex was here

You elected to ignore them but they didn't have the same idea for you

"I never expected to see you around again, I thought you disappeared completely when no one heard from you in months."

"now that you're talking to me I wish I had, is there a reason you're interrupting my date?"

"your date? Is this him? I didn't think you'd move on so quickly~ shows what value you have on relationships."

Satan was pleased; he's heard all about your ex and was mad they were even breathing the same air as you

You were more annoying than any of his brother's and he hasn't even said anything to them yet

"I got over you quickly which might I add 10 months isn't a short time span - because you mean nothing me, you're a bitch."

"Back off or you'll end up with a bloody nose."

"gonna hit? Some man you are! Quick to violence-"

He grabbed their head, quickly jerking their head as if he was going to smash it into the display

His fingers dug into their scalp and tugged at their hair

"You have 5 seconds, I'm feeling nice today because it's valentine's - run now or I will put a dent in your skull."

He let go and he began to count, your ex looked at you both with fear before running

Just grazing the 5 second limit

"what was we discussing? Ah yes, I'll point out where I am, I think the picture is just up ahead."

Asmodeus:

Bath store date!!!

If it's with asmo - anything can be exciting

Even if it is you two walking around snorting bath bombs and poking the bath jello

Asmo handed you a bar

"smell it~ it's got herbs and flowers in it, doesn't the smell remind you of the kitchen back home?"

You gave it a small sniff but almost got abit of herb stuck in your nose when you saw your ex looking straight at you

He caught onto your surprise, slightly turning to see someone approach you two

"Careful there, don't want it to get stuck up your nose."

Your ex laughed, you just frowned

The demon looking between you, noticing how unhappy you were

"Do you want something? We're busy."

"I spotted you and thought to see hi! It's been so long since we've talked! Are you feeling abit better now after your break? I know the breakup was hard."

They gave you a pity filled look, patting your shoulder

"No, the breakup was easy to get through but why does it matter to you? We're not friends and you dumped me and that was that."

"come on it couldn't be just that, don't be shy Infront of- who are you exactly?"

Asmo quickly wrapped an arm around you, hugging you close as he gave your ex a tight smile

"Their boyfriend~! And I'm not happy about you talking to my sweetheart, leave."

"boyfriend? You look like that and you wanna try to be tough, you're as scary as a cloud- this is what you moved on with? I should of expected it."

"cute, look me in the eyes whilst you say that, won't you?"

Your ex foolishly did, Getting ready to insult but felt themself be fully charmed

"Won't you be a dear and spin around for me? Perhaps start clucking like a chicken, I think there's some feed over there." He cooed.

You bursted out laughing watching your ex do exactly as they were asked

Your boyfriend just smiled, picking up another soap and sniffing it before handing it to you

"ooo it's really fragrance, let's get this one."

You ignored your charmed ex, leaving the store with your stuff, hearing them yell out in humiliation as soon as you stepped out the store

Beezlebub:

Picnic, Should of been expected

You watched him do his stretches; you knew he had to keep himself occupied with draining tasks to keep better control over his constant hunger

He already scarfed down most of what was in basket before his fitness watch went off

You just sat back and observed

"I know this isn't romantic but once I'm tired we can continue, I'm sorry."

"Beel, I'd rather watch you flex your muscles than feel starved."

"I'll do my best."

He leaned down and you met him half way, Sharing a quick kiss before he went jogging

Everytime he passed your spot you gave him a cheer

But what you didn't expect was your ex to whistle, watching Beel with you

"do you mind? That's my boyfriend."

"I can see, how'd you get a guy like him? He's shredded, I didn't think big guys were your type."

"It's none of your business what my type is, our relationship is over and I told you I never wanted to see you again."

Your ex scoffed, glaring down at you

"is that why you disappeared for months? You really think I'd be desperate enough to message you again?"

"is it it of your system yet? Can you leave?"

"What's the issue..? You don't look pleased."

He was looking directly at you, concern on his face

You sighed In annoyance

"oh~ and he has a nice voice aswell, aren't you a package, wanna go somewhere more private?"

It was your turn to scoff, beel frowned at your ex

He knew how unpleasant your ex was and immediately stepped towards them

He grabbed their head and easily lifted them off the ground and put them to his eye level

"Apologize and Leave."

Your ex whimpered, wincing in pain, beel moved them like a ragdoll and made them face you

"I'M SORRY FOR EVERYTHING!"

They were let go and scampered off

You turned to beel, cupping his face, his mood immediately improving

"you did amazing, baby, are you tired or do you need to keep exercising?"

"I think I'll be able to be fine now, I'm glad they left so quickly, I was going to eat them."

Belphegor:

He wanted sky diving but you decided to go to the mattress store

Odd date choice but it made perfect sense to your boyfriend, they were having double bed special offers

He sunk into the mattress, sighing feeling how soft and bouncy it was

"We Should get this one."

"you said that with the last mattress, I'm sure you could find one hard as a rock and still want it."

"the top of the sofa is a comfy spot but I like my mattresses soft."

You just hummed, looking at the prices

"Tore up the old one with one of your tantrums? What a shame."

"excuse me??! I had a death In my family and that was an accident-! Why are you even here?!"

You can't believe it! Your ex had to be here of all places!

"I did want to say hi but now you're just getting all worked up over abit of teasing, you're still so sensative."

"Wow, forever the gaslighting cunt, I'm really not surprised you haven't changed but you got real balls to be so public about how much of a shitty person you are."

Beel was propped up on the mattress, happily watching you verbally destroy your ex

"you're just a bitch as always-"

"hold on, I'm just teasing - no need to get all angry about it."

He snickered whilst you smirked, coping the same tone your ex used

"Ah~ I know you, they told me about you, you're the ex that slipped and fell into the pool full of sick, I've been laughing about that for months."

"you-! I can't believe you'd talk about me so much, have you really moved on?"

"they told him one story, calm down, is this what you do now that you're single? terrorise couples in mattress store?"

They tried to bark back but he cut them off

"You know...I know plenty of ways to suffocate a human and I wouldn't even have to put a single finger on you, unless you want to see what I can do to your mind, I'd turn around and bother someone else."

They stared at him in horror, seeing you both just look down at them, enjoying their struggle for words

"you're both little shits, I hope you're miserable."

"and I hope you get the hell out of my face before I decide to stop being nice."

His eyes glowed as mist formed at his fingers, unnoticeable to anyone else around you

Your ex winced, a choked noise escaping them

They surprised you by being smart for once, turning around and storming away

"Are you miserable, belphie?"

"only when you're not around."

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me mammon #gamingclubpresident #aracadejohn217 9 #obey me mc #obey me asmodeus #obey me satan #obey me beezlebub #obey me levithan #obey me luficer #obey me belphegor #obey me discourse #obey me x you #obey me x mc #obey me x reader #obey me imagine #valentine's day

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narrators-journal · 3 years

Note

Hello, I hope you are well, can I ask Yandere Akutagawa who probably hates you for how you make us feel? I may degrade you but get mad if someone else does

I hope this is good and is what you wanted! I'm a little rusty with Yandere content, so it might be a bit subtle here. I hope you enjoy nonetheless!

As a new low ranking mafia goon you had expected some harsh bullying from your coworkers, but that didn't mean you couldn't despise them for it, or have the occassional breakdown in the headquarters bathroom or something. That was actually how you'd met your first friend-like person in the organization, Higuchi had found you fighting to not cry in the bathroom one day, and instead of belittling you for the moment of weakness, she gave you a paper towel to dab the tears from your (s/c) cheeks and assured you that she understood your predicament.

In all honesty, the harassment wouldn't be that bad if it weren't for one specific man. Akutagawa Ryuunosuke.

Akutagawa was a violent, hostile, rabid dog of a man who took any possible chance to insult you without mercy. It didn't even have to be anything that would get you into trouble or annoy him, he would belittle anything he could about you as a person, not just your work for the mafia. It had quickly lost all of the leeway you had for newbie-hazing. At least now you had a reason to blame for the prickly mafioso hating your guts. Turns out he isn't a fan of his fashion being labelled 'hot topic tween goth.' After that, you just avoided him as best you could, which seemed near impossible with how much he continued to pop up in your life, even after you'd insulted him.

Of course, Mori would pair you with the goth pretty frequently despite your reluctance, Akutagawa had a pretty variable set of jobs he could be assigned to and thus would be a good on-the-job teacher for a newbie such as yourself, but after you'd insulted the goth he didn't leave you alone like you might've thought he would. Instead, he seemed to pop up a lot more frequently, even outside of the jobs you were paired with him on. Of course, you would see the pale vampire at the headquarters when you weren't working with him, but now you had gone from seeing him maybe once a week for a task or to retrieve or deliver ill-gotten cash, to seeing him a distance behind you in the hallway of the headquarters almost every other day, or in one of the spare sitting rooms the goons had overtaken and claimed as a sort of 'break room' on nights when you'd stay super late into the night and should've been alone.

However, you couldn't really accuse the hostile man of stalking you just to glare at you or spit insults. After all, Higuchi had always had a very valid point as to why you were running into him when you brought the occurrences up, and you'd be labelled a loon for thinking he'd been trailing you just because you had spotted him in the grocery store. So, you opted to keep your mouth shut and just ignored him whenever you could get away with it.

Though, every once in a while a snide remark or two slipped out, like one had on the day he limped into the headquarters after another spat with his rival, Atsushi Nakajima. "You look like a cat's half digested dinner," you snorted, watching the wheezing vampire flop into one of the fancy velvet chairs in the empty break room. He was still glowing a pretty vibrant red, with his coat ribbon lashing like the tail of an angry cat, but he ignored your comment and instead focused on wrapping his slashed up arm and leg in bandages. Then, just as you were beginning to leave the room to find your own place to do some paperwork, you felt fabric slither around your neck to tighten into a razor-wire choke-collar and yank you none-too-gently over to the chair Akutagawa sat in.

You weren't likely to cut an impressive figure with your (e/c) eyes wide with shock at the sudden attack, and fear at the feeling of Rashoumon's sharp edges biting into your (s/c) skin to draw blood under your bully's cold, humiliation-filled glare, "I think you're beginning to forget your place here, newbie." He spat, his raspy growl dripping with venom, "Not only do I outrank you, but I am much stronger than you. You are nowhere near Jinko's strength, fucking Higuchi is more of a threat to me than you are, so the next time you want to feel more significant than you are and insult me, I suggest you have a fucking grave dug beforehand." He got right in your face as he spoke, barring his teeth at you with sin-worthy wrath in his grey eyes, but, just for a moment before the lethal ribbon threw you away as easily as he would a gum wrapper, he hesitated. It was brief, only a few seconds, but Akutagawa's anger lessened, and instead he leaned forward just a hair. Just as quickly as it appeared though, the moment was gone. His fury returned with a vengeance and the ribbon that held you captive launched you across the room, sending you sliding across the floor and into the wall hard enough to crack it just a bit.

You took the hint and scrambled to your feet as soon as you got some air into your lungs, coughing and wheezing as you fled the room before Rashoumon could be sent through your spine next.

Admittedly, being snippy with the vampire after he'd already been embarrassed like that hadn't been a shining example of your best timing, but you tried to move past it, and that weird moment of hesitation, and label it a learning experience. Your fellow goons however, caught wind of your confrontation and did not give you such kindness. They instead turned it into more ammunition for snide remarks about how intelligent you were.

"Hey! Look who just walked in!" A goon you had yet to learn the name of almost crowed one day when you were eating lunch in the breakroom, just trying to watch some tv before your next job when Akutagawa had come in. "Hey, (y/n), wanna try and see if he'll knock your braincells back into place?" You just glared at the man while he continued to call you stupid and just try to instigate whatever fight he could it seemed. You didn't fall for his trap though, keeping your mouth firmly shut and not responding to his insults or assumptions of how masochistic you were. No, you instead simply returned your attention to the tv and blocked out Akutagawa's existence until you finished your lunch and left for your job.

Thankfully, it was a solo mission, a new extension of trust from Mori, and a prime chance to not only prove yourself, but to get away from the assholes you worked with. So, by the time you returned to the mafia headquarters, you were feeling pretty good and had almost completely forgotten your earlier run-in with that asshole of a goon around your lunch time.

Of course, the sky was dark by the time you returned from the job, so on top of your improved mood, you were also spared further heckling since everyone else had finished their work and gone home for the night. So, you were gratefully able to fly through the report you had to write about the mission, and cataloging of the goods you'd distributed without issue. It wasn't until you stopped by the bathroom to change out of your clothing and into some more comfortable, not-dirty clothes before your walk home that you smelled the stench of blood.

It hit you like a brick as soon as you had opened the bathroom door. The whole bathroom reeked of the dizzying smell of iron and death so badly that it poured out into the empty hallway. All it took was a few steps inside to investigate for you to spot the source of such a strong stench. A corpse huddled into the far corner across from the stalls.

Through your stinging tears, you could see that it was likely one of the other mafia goons, and judging by the one bloody tuft of hair you could see amongst the chunks of flayed flesh...it was the same goon that was messing with you earlier. Since your only identifier was the shredded and blood soaked suit that the heap of shredded flesh and spilled entrails somewhat wore and a bit of hair, you couldn't say for certain, but something in your gut told you it was the same man.

"You know, you should really grow a spine." You whirled around to face the doorway as soon as the raspy voice spoke, (e/c) eyes wide and your hand instantly falling to the small pistol you had at your hip. But, instead of some demented intruder out to murder any mafia goons they found, you were instead met with Akutagawa. Your worst bully.

For a moment, all you could do was stare in shock, your brain frantically scrambling to recollect its composure under the pressure of an almost primal terror, just letting you stammer out a shakey, "What?" before your legs began to turn to jello, the thick blanket of coppery blood in the air making your stomach want to escape out of your mouth. However, you put your hand on the cool glass of the sink and bit back the urge to vomit. The last thing you wanted was to give the sadistic mafioso more ammo against you in his harassment, and if he was the goon-slaughtering-psycho, you didn't want to go out because you were too busy retching to defend yourself. However, he didn't attack you. He just stood in the doorway and glared at the mutilated pile of flesh as if it had insulted his family for a moment before speaking again, "You're supposed to be a mafia member, (y/n), you can't just let people use you as a doormat, it reflects poorly on the organization." he chided with a derisive sniff, "Grow a damned spine and begin to stand up for yourself. No one's going to 'defend your honor' like this..." He trailed off, fixing you with a cold, irritated look for a long moment before he turned on his heel with a huff, "Clean that bastard up, before he stains the linoleum anymore than he already has."

With that, Akutagawa stomped off back to wherever he'd come from. Leaving you to deal with the bloody carnage you'd discovered, and to ask yourself why he had even been here. It was the middle of the night, most everyone should be home by now, but the goth had appeared only a moment after you'd entered the bathroom, how had he shown up so quickly? He didn't bring Mori or anyone else, so it wasn't like he'd discovered the body first...

You got a sick feeling that he'd been the one to leave such a nightmarish scene. And that he'd been waiting for you to find it or something.

#bsd #bungo stray dogs #Akutagawa ryuunosuke #x reader #Yandere akutagawa #ask #scenario #yandere

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inhuman-obey-me · 3 years

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Melody of Revenge

Word Count: 2.4k Description: Everyone knows not to mess with Lucifer Morningstar. Some, however, make the mistake of going after his family instead. Part of the A Demon's Nature series. Lucifer was next, and this ended up getting really long, so uh ... yeah. Can be found on AO3 here. content warning: torture, so much torture, blood, body horror/mutilation

Fear and intimidation. Lucifer knew how to use both effectively, striking terror into any and all who looked upon him. The Avatar of Pride rarely had to remind others of just who he was, but every now and then, someone decided to step out of line. It couldn’t be helped -- imbeciles could be found wherever beating hearts or souls resided.

Tonight, however, he was dealing with a very particular kind of imbecile. One that had crossed a line so gravely that he had planned an entire torture routine in his mind as he made his way through the halls of the Demon Lord’s Castle. Flames of anger licked his insides as he made his way to the dungeons, but he had to keep his rage under control. Lucifer always had to be in control, every action and word deliberate and planned. He didn’t have a choice to be anything less.

“Barbatos.” He greeted the loyal butler and friend, who stood at the entrance of a particular hall of cells.

“Greetings, Lucifer.” The usual polite smile alighted his lips, though a knowing look gleamed in his eyes. “Are you sure you want to handle this one?”

“Absolutely.” He responds firmly, immediately. Barbatos usually had the pleasure of torturing those who crossed the Devildom, and he took great delight in it -- far more than even Lucifer would. After all, Lucifer found torture and punishment as a means to an end, a form of discipline.

Barbatos simply did it for fun.

“Then by all means,” the royal servant bowed slightly, gesturing with one arm towards the dark hall. “She’s all yours.” With that, he left the dungeons, having a great many other tasks to attend to for the day -- though couldn’t help leaving with a melodic, “Have fun.”

A small smirk tugged at the corner of Lucifer’s lips. Oh, he planned to make this a very enjoyable time indeed. Taking a deep breath -- making sure that he was in control -- he dropped his glamour to reveal more of his demon form and walked forward to unlock one of the metal cell doors. It creaked open, allowing for the sounds of muffled screams to leave the dark room.

“Hello, Abyzou.”

The protests suddenly stopped, a chill seeming to settle in the air. Lucifer slowly lit the torches along the dungeon’s walls, bathing the room in a hellish orange light. There, in the middle of the cell, sat the traitor, bound and gagged. Her serpentine eyes looked up at Lucifer with a mix of fear and anger, but she otherwise remained silent and still.

“What’s wrong? Suddenly decided it was a good time to be quiet?” His voice is calm. Too calm. He eases his long coat off of his shoulders, hanging it on a hook by the door. Gloved hands begin to roll up his sleeves as he turns to look at the other demon again, a sigh leaving him. He stepped forward, and with a yank removed the gag from her mouth. “Is that better?”

Abyzou coughed, spitting to the side as she flexed her jaw after it being bound for so long. He allowed her to adjust -- he was a demon of patience, after all.

“Lucifer … “ She begins with his name, spoken with a certain kind of reverence. “I didn’t realize you would be visiting me here.”

“You didn’t?” The surprise in his voice is almost genuine. “Strange, I figured you would have been expecting me any day now, considering the reason you’re here in the first place.”

Her eyes widened for a moment before she directed her gaze elsewhere, not wanting to look upon the greater demon. There was a hint of shame in her expression, but it gave way to a twisted smile as she shook her head. “I see . . .”

“Do you?” He speaks sharply, his hatred for her beginning to show. He grabbed her jaw with one hand, forcing her to look up at him. “Do you see, Abyzou? Or are you still trying to play innocent?”

She hissed as his fingertips pressed into her skin, the red leather of his gloves saving her from the wrath of his claws -- for now. She stared into those magnetic ruby eyes and all the power they held, all of the destruction they could unleash, all of the pain they could bring.

“But was I wrong?” Abyzou knew her end was imminent, especially if the Avatar of Pride himself had requested to punish her personally. So what was the use in being anything but honest? “Was I truly wrong, Lord Lucifer?” The reverence once held in her voice was gone, replaced with mockery. She shifted in her bonds, leaning into the hand that held her jaw. “You know that the Devildom is stronger and better than the other realms, and yet we’re forced to grovel to the likes of angels!” Stretching out her neck, she continued with a jeer. “Or do you and your brothers miss having those white wings and halos for yourselves that much?”

Lucifer roughly pushed her face away from him, hand releasing her jaw. He took a step back, eyes full of cold fury still focused on the other demon. His gaze then swept the cell, taking note of the various torture instruments on display -- but grinned when he saw that Barbatos made sure to include the absolute essential. A vinyl player, the perfect record already in place to set the mood. He set it up to play, allowing the first notes to spill into the air before resuming his interrogation.

“So, you thought yourself better than the others who had agreed to His Royal Highness’ vision?” Lucifer begins to tug at the seam of one of his gloves, steadily peeling it off his hand. “Of course, we knew that plenty of the nobles had their concerns, and many voiced them, yourself included.” He sets the removed glove to the side, now beginning to take off the other. “And yet, you still decided that you would try and work against us behind the scenes,” The second glove joins its pair. “And, what I’m really trying to understand -- truly, I am -- is why you thought it would be a good idea to try and undermine the Seven Lords?”

Abyzou shifted in place, her earlier burst of bravado dwindling, and goosebumps rose along her skin as she listened to the music he decided to play. It was common knowledge to never get on Lucifer’s bad side, but she had taken the risk -- and now she would be answering for it. She lowered her head, staring at the cold stone floor, suddenly finding the way the orange light from the flames bounced and shimmered of great interest. “I . . . “ She started, trying to choose her next words carefully. “I wasn’t trying to undermine you or your brothers. I was doing what I thought would be best … including for you all! Can’t you see that I was trying to protect you, protect us?”

A piercing, incredulous laugh left Lucifer’s lips, his deep voice sending chills down Abyzou’s spine. He picked up the spool of twisted rope and approached her once more, the steady clack clack from his shoes’ heels echoing throughout the cell, mingling with the slowly increasing crescendo.

“Aby, Aby, Aby . . .” Lucifer clicked his tongue before he roughly collected a fistful of her long raven locks, eliciting a sharp cry as her head was wrenched back to look up at him. “That was your first mistake.”

The Avatar of Pride was nothing short of an expert when it came to stringing others up from the ceiling, though in this particular case, he wanted to make sure it hurt. The imprisoned demon thrashed and squirmed, but he was able to lift and tie her up with ease, making sure that the rough jute cut into her scaly skin just short of making her bleed -- for now. He tied the rope up to her waist, then put each wrist in a metal clasp that was chained to the floor, stretching out her arms to either side.

“You thought you needed to protect us? A sweet gesture,” He derided her, a claw coming up to slowly trace from her chin down through her cheek, drawing blood as it broke skin. “And an absolute lie. Your little act had every intention to put my brothers at risk, in harm’s way … “ A second claw followed the first, creating a ribbon of shredded skin. Abyzou hissed at the pain, biting back anything else in an effort to save some sense of dignity. “ … and you had the audacity to think you’d get away with it. Truly incredible.” The faux amazement in his tone felt like thorns in her ears, and she squeezed her eyes shut, not wanting to look into his face.

“What’s the matter, Abyzou? Shouldn’t you be used to being in this kind of position, or at least … something not too far from it?” Lucifer smirked, delighted to see her eyes shoot back open, bright yellow irises staring at him in disbelief. “If I remember correctly … Solomon had you tied up in front of his temple, and by your hair, at that.”

That riled her up. Forked tongue lashed out to flick at his face, a series of curses leaving her lips soon after. Fangs bared, she hissed, “Don’t you dare bring up that bastard! To think that I wasn’t allowed to lay a hand on him the moment he stepped into our realm. He deserves to have his neck twisted, but you … !”

“But I . . ?” Lucifer took out a handkerchief from his back pocket, nonchalantly wiping away at where her tongue and spit landed on his visage. “Please, do go on.”

“You … you, all of you, let him in with open arms! Even after knowing everything he’s done, how he’s treated our own kind! I don’t care if you say he’s changed, HE NEEDS TO BE TORN LIMB FROM LIMB!” She screamed, thrashing about in her binds, chains rattling as she struggled.

“Temper, temper, Aby.” Oh, that sadistic, pointed grin. A wave of euphoria washed over him, seeing her like this. “You have no room to talk, considering what you’ve done.” He watched as the blood from her face dropped and dripped to the floor, a hum leaving his lips.

“Perhaps you need some more reminding of just how badly you fucked up this time.” He raised a hand, chanting a curse that caused a swirl of glowing energy to encircle both of her hands. It weaved through her clenched fists, forcing them open, and wrapped like binding around each finger. She cried out in pain as she felt the magical binding began to gradually crush her fingers, cutting off circulation knuckle by knuckle.

“You tried to have some of my brothers poisoned,” All five claws of one hand pierced the skin of her upper arm, retracted, pierced again a bit lower, and repeated -- gradually making way down her entire arm. More and more blood began to drip, the usual greenish hue of her scaly skin now awash in dark red. “You tried to gather enough support to attack them, because you were too much of a coward to come face any of us yourself. Though, it’s laughable that you thought you could do damage to us in the first place.”

“I … I’m sorry!” She knew any apologies here were useless, but the pain that she now felt at every point in her body was becoming too agonizing to ignore. “I felt like I was left with no choice!” She felt her vision get hazy, the smell of her blood and the sharp strikes of pain -- from the rope, from his claws, from the curse -- overwhelming her senses. And that damned music, it was driving her insane.

“No choice?” Lucifer scoffed, his claws now repeating the treatment on her other arm. “Abyzou, you did have a choice.” His brows furrowed, wings stretching out as he brought his face close to her upside-down one. “You just chose the wrong one.”

Tears stung her eyes, the magic binding on her hands crushing her fingers until there would be nothing left. She could hear her blood drip in puddles on the floor, and yet the bleeding wasn’t enough for her life to end anytime soon.

“Please … please, Lord Lucifer … just finish me already.” She begged, though deep down she knew her cries for mercy would be futile.

Lucifer’s usual stoic expression settled on his features. He watched her for a moment, then turned around and walked to the table by the door where he had laid his gloves. A cloth was folded neatly next to them, which he took to wipe the blood off of his hands, murmuring a spell to help fully rid his skin of any that remained. Then, he pulled his gloves back on, tugging on the seams to make sure that they were on properly, fingers flexing in the red leather.

“I’m sure that’s what you would like, Abyzou.” His voice is eerily low, his back still turned to the demoness. She could hear him setting something up, but was unable to make out what it was.

Then he started humming, a haunting sound added to the sharp strings and bellowing percussion.

He dragged the table closer to her suspended body, stepping aside to show what was left on it.

She nearly choked. There, next to the record player, was another similar device -- but this one wasn’t for playing.

“However, I have no intention of giving you a quick end. You’ll remain here, like this, until every last drop of blood leaves your body, and your hands are thoroughly crushed, and those ropes cut through you. But, you won’t be completely alone.”

He gingerly raises the needle, setting it onto the record at the correct position. Resuming his humming, he hit the Record button, and the disc began to spin, the needle etching everything it heard into the vinyl. “We’ll have a lovely keepsake to remember you by. Ah, and don’t worry … this is all using magic, so it will document everything up until your last breath.”

Abyzou tried to thrash about with what strength she had left, but in the end only caused herself pain, the chains shackled to her wrists ringing and clanging.

“Farewell, Abyzou.”

With that, Lucifer left the cell, the large metal door shutting to a close behind him. He made his way back through the dungeon halls, a smirk on his lips as he heard a loud, wailing shriek in the distance.

#obey me #obey me!#obey me lucifer #om! lucifer #obey me fics #obey me swd #demons being demons #writings #series: a demon's nature #yeah this gets pretty descriptive in parts so!! be warned #also feel free to listen to heart of darkness by succession studios with this -- or also lucifer's waltz or queen of the damned #can you tell who my favorite is lmao #decided to post directly to this blog now #the all encompassing [mod] cosmos

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awheckery · 3 years

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so. uh.

cut for frank discussion of chronic illness and the serious failures of the american healthcare system. tw for fatphobia and gaslighting.

Last July, I got sick. It wasn’t too bad at first: some fatigue, body aches and a slightly elevated temp, until suddenly it was bad and I wound up in the ER. It took three rounds of steroids, a round of antibiotics and a more powerful inhaler to get my feet back under me, but I never fully recovered.

I didn’t talk about it here, except for answering an ask in October and blaming my lack of creative output on depression. It really, really wasn’t depression; it was my health progressively collapsing, one system after another until the avalanche of symptoms that flattened me just after New Year’s.

For the last four months, I’ve spiked a fever over 100°F nearly every single day. My joints hurt. My knuckles are knobbly and swollen, and occasionally my fingers are so painful and weak I’ve had to literally tape my pen to my hand at work. I get rashes at random that itch so badly I claw myself bloody. I overheat and have hot flashes in temperate rooms. The skin on my face and neck and shoulders turns red and hot to the touch, like I’m burning for hours with no immediately discernible provocation.

Some days, I wake up and I don’t have the strength to get out of bed. Some days I can’t wake up at all. I’ve slept through deafening alarms for hours, long enough for my phone battery to run out and die. I can only stand up for ten minutes a day without being hobbled by the effort, and every extra minute beyond that I pay for in hours spent bedbound by exhaustion and pain.

I keep losing words. I’ll arrive at the middle of a sentence and stumble to a halt, because the word I need isn’t there. It’s not true aphasia, and it’s not all the time. I comprehend written and verbal communication perfectly well, but I can’t get my own thoughts out without tripping over them.

I am, to quote a friend attending school to be a nurse practitioner, “a textbook case for SLE,” and I agree, but somehow I can’t pay a doctor to treat me seriously.

In January, I was referred to a rheumatologist after the bloodwork my PCP ordered indicated I had autoimmune activity of some kind.

To date, that’s my only test for anything that’s come out definitively positive for any kind of disease state at all. Ever. I tested negative for celiac disease on a technicality nine years ago, despite how specifically and intensely sick gluten makes me, so I was dismayed but not too surprised when follow-up bloodwork for lupus came back just barely inside the range of “normal.” Despite that, I wasn’t prepared to be jerked around as much as I have been.

The first rheumatologist I saw, back at the end of January, had barely been in the exam room for thirty seconds when I could see he’d already made up his mind about me. He was dismissive and perfunctory and condescending when he told me that “plenty of perfectly healthy people have positive ANA results,” and he referred me back to my PCP for an exercise program and antidepressants to treat my “fibromyalgia.”

Putting aside that I’m not a “perfectly healthy person,” I’m a Fat Lady living in America, and I’ve experienced medical fatphobia for decades at this point. You learn the key words and phrases pretty quickly, and “exercise program” has never not been a euphemism for “weight loss.” (Which is heavily ironic in this particular situation, because before I was Fat, I walked 2-3 miles a day for funsies and spent 15-20 hours in the gym every week. I only stopped because I somehow shredded both my ACLs in one summer. I’d love to get back to that if a rheumatologist could help me figure out how to be active and uninjured at the same time.)

I was frustrated after that first appointment, enough to request a referral to one of the best teaching hospitals in the country. Why not go to the best, right? There was a five month wait for an appointment, but I am stubborn, and I made use of the time by documenting every bullshit symptom my body threw at me. I have a daily symptom journal, full of subjective entries like my pain and fatigue levels, as well as objective entries like daily temperature changes and photos of my rashes and my burning face and my goddamn mouth ulcers.

I thought I had enough logged to be impossible to ignore, and then I saw the second rheumatologist three weeks ago, and the first sentence out of her mouth was the beginning of an interrogation on my blood pressure, and whether I was taking medication or if I was on a fucking exercise program for it. I tried to get the appointment back on track by sharing my symptom diary, and she turned back to my just-under-the-wire test results, and told me, “many healthy people have positive ANA results, it doesn’t mean anything without other positive test results for specific conditions.”

I said, “Healthy people don’t run a fever for months.”

And then she told me that a "fever is not associated with any of the conditions a rheumatologist treats." I was so startled by the confidence and authority with which she stated the lie that I was unable to speak to rouse a defense or contribute anything else for the rest of the appointment. After an insultingly brief examination, in which I never took my face mask off and she declined to look at any of my photos, she said that she “didn’t see anything that could be rheumatologically wrong with me.”

I asked her what she thought could be wrong with me, and she grudgingly admitted it’s possible, though rare to have an autoimmune disease and test negative for everything, so she would order more tests and refer me to appropriate specialists for my various symptoms. She ordered a referral to an infectious disease specialist for my fevers, and a referral to a dermatologist for my “rosacea” (that she’s assuming I have, because I would like to again note she did not see it, at no point did she actually look at my face or a photo of it), and a referral to an ENT for a salivary gland biopsy for my dry mouth, and a referral to a neurologist for my “stroke-like” memory and speech problems.

It was, all told, an unbearably shitty appointment. I cried in my car for an hour in the hospital parking garage so I wouldn’t do anything impulsive like lying down in traffic, and then I went home, cried some more, and went to bed for three days.

On the fourth day, I woke up enraged. It’s one thing to be blown off by a doctor when you’re just reporting symptoms without proof, it’s a wholly different thing for a doctor to ignore your proof and lie about diagnostic criteria to your face.

It’s hard enough not to think you’re crazy when your test results come back negative over and over; it’s that much harder after being told that your major concrete measurable symptom is diagnostically irrelevant, when it really, really isn’t.

(for the record, just going off the symptoms I can concretely prove I’ve experienced in the last week alone, I land a 16 on this chart, which is the most up-to-date, widely agreed-upon diagnostic criteria)

I have decided, for the moment, to play ball. I don’t have the energy to jump through all the hoops this rheumatologist wants, but I'm angry enough to drag myself through them. Tomorrow I’m supposed to see the infectious diseases specialist. On Wednesday I see the dermatologist. In two weeks I see the ENT, and I’ve got a neurology appointment tentatively scheduled for December.

I’m going to be blisteringly forthright with all of these doctors about why I’m there, and that I’m looking to exclude diagnoses other than the lupus I pretty obviously have. (Except with the ENT. Apparently they treat allergies, and I’d like to be able to go outside long enough to walk a dog, someday.)

I’m supposed to see this rheumatologist again at the end of November. Depending on how this week’s appointments go, I’m aiming to either move up my appointment with her when one becomes available, or just send a firm yet diplomatic email asking why the diagnostic criteria apply to everyone but me.

If anybody else has gotten through this fucking nightmare successfully, I’m open to suggestions, it’s not like it can get worse at this point.

#long post #sufferpunk life #chronic illness #chronic pain #sle #lupus #aka why I've gotten nothing interesting or creative done since last year #fml

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lumosandnoxwriting · 3 years

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Into the Light - George Weasley

Title: Into the Light Pairing: George x Fem!Reader Warning: NSFW!! Unprotected sex, dirty talk, fingers, female receiving oral, breeding kink Summary: All George has ever wanted is right at his fingertips, and he’s willing to go the extra mile to make his dreams a reality. A/N: part 2 to wanting something more!! You could probably read this on it’s own but it might make more sense if you’ve read the first part! This is some smut with fluff because I couldn’t help myself!! Feedback is always welcome! Tags: @sociallyawkward-princess @obsssedwithjustaboutanything @pigwidgexn Read part 1 here!

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George takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly as he watches Y/N sleep. Her head is resting on his chest and the moonlight flooding into the room illuminates her face. He can feel her shoulders rising and falling with every slow breath she takes, and every once in a while a quiet noise leaves her lips. George knows he should be sleeping but try as he might he can’t fall asleep. His fingers brush through her hair gently, letting the silky strands slip through his digits. They’ve been together for just over six months, and George still can’t believe this is his life.

He used to lie awake at night too plagued with thoughts of Y/N to fall asleep. She had been the one who got away, and in the cover of darkness George would let himself wonder what their life would’ve been like had he just worked up the courage to tell her how he truly felt. But now he gets to lie awake at night with her in his arms, too entranced by her beauty to fall asleep. When his mind wanders to their future it no longer fills him with dread, but overwhelming glee and anticipation. The things he yearned for in the dark are now finally able to be brought into the light.

At some point George does manage to fall asleep, his hand still entangled in Y/N’s hair and images of small red headed children running in a field playing on a loop in his head.

“He’s so good with her, isn’t he?” Ginny muses as she comes and leans against the counter next to Y/N.

Y/N hums in agreement, and finally tears her eyes away from where George is playing with Victorie so she can look at the younger girl. Sundays are reserved for family dinners at The Burrow, and Y/N has spent the last 10 minutes watching George hold little Victorie’s hand as she zoomed around the living room on the toy broom he bought her for her first birthday. He’d just lifted her up off of the broom so he could toss her in the air and catch her when Ginny interrupted.

“Does it make you feel mushy things?” Ginny teases, nudging her playfully.

Y/N rolls her eyes as a blush spreads across her cheeks. “How much money did George pay you to come over and say that to me?”

“Five Galleons. I talked him up from three,” Ginny says proudly with a grin. “Though if I knew I’d be found out this fast I would have asked for more. I figured this would be a recurring job.”

“Hey, you should feel accomplished. Ron only got One Galleon out of him last week and Harry did it for free the week before,” Y/N chuckles.

Ginny shakes her head as she snorts in laughter. “Merlin, you better give him a baby soon or he’ll run out of money.”

Y/N bites her lip and turns her attention back to George. Victorie is giggling wildly as George chases her around the living room, his arms outstretched and his fingers moving as if he’s tickling her. “I think he’ll run out of family members to bribe before that ever happens.” Just as George’s hands grab Victorie he looks up, winking at Y/N when their eyes meet.

“Boy is he laying it on thick today.” Ginny pauses so she can watch Y/N for a moment. “Is it working? Or should I tell Hermione to ask for ten Galleons next week?”

Y/N shrugs, watching as George hands Victorie over to Molly and starts to head over to them. “It’s not like I haven’t thought about it. Of course, I want to have kids with George. I’m just worried that it’s too soon.”

George reaches them then, and he leans down to press a brief kiss to Y/N’s lips. “You ladies talking about anything interesting?”

“No not really. Just about how you keep bribing your family members to convince me to get pregnant,” Y/N responds with a glare.

George’s face turns beet red, and Ginny laughs as she starts to walk away. “You’re not getting your money back, by the way!”

“To be fair Harry did it for free,” George reminds her with a chuckle, wrapping his arms around Y/N’s waist. He hasn’t stopped thinking about having a baby with Y/N since the day they got back together, when she had begged George to fill her up with his cum and knock her up, so everyone would know who she belongs to. Not only had it been extremely arousing, but it made him realize how deeply he wants to have kids with her.

“Whatever, no need to get so technical,” she teases with an eye roll. Y/N wraps her arms around George’s neck and pulls him down so she can whisper in his ear. “I would much rather have you tell me how badly you want to knock me up while I’m pinned to a mattress and cumming around your cock.”

A shiver runs down George’s spine and his cock twitches in his trousers. “Fucking hell, you know what that shit does to me. Are you trying to give me a boner in front of my family, Y/N?” When all Y/N does is wink George groans and presses her up against the counter harder. “Just wait until we get home, Y/N. You’re not going to be able to walk tomorrow when I’m done with you.”

The second they apperate back into Y/N’s flat George has her pressed up against the nearest flat wall. He kisses her hard, one of his hands gripping her hip while the other shoves up her shirt. “I can’t fucking believe you, Y/N. Getting me all worked up in front of my family. Bet you wanted me to take you to the bathroom and fuck you right there, didn’t you, baby?”

Y/N tangles her hands in George’s hair and tugs hard, moaning as he starts to suck on her neck. “You just fuck me so good, Georgie. Want you anywhere I can have you.” She moves her head to the side to give George more room to kiss and tugs on his hair again. “Always wanna be full with you, Georgie. Your tongue, your fingers, your cock.” Y/N pauses and uses her grip on George’s hair to pull his head away from her neck so they’re looking each other in the eyes. “Your cum.”

“Fuck, baby. Who am I to deny you these things, hm? Gonna make sure you’re nice and stuffed.” George leans forward and nips at her earlobe. “Especially with my cum.” He kisses Y/N again as he grips her thighs, hoisting her up. George deepens their kiss as Y/N’s arms wrap around his neck, and he licks into her mouth as he starts to carry her to the bedroom. He tosses her on the bed as soon as it’s near enough, and George pulls his shirt off before he crawls up the bed towards her.

Y/N takes her shirt off as George comes towards her and once she’s thrown it away Y/N cups George’s jaw and pulls him down into a slow kiss. She whines against George’s mouth as his calloused hands run up her bare torso, and she arches her back into his touch.

One of George’s hands rests on Y/N’s back, keeping their chests pressed together, while the other undoes the clasp of her bra. He breaks their kiss so he can throw her bra off, and his mouth starts to trail open mouthed kisses from the base of her throat down to the tops of Y/N’s breasts. “I’m never gonna get tired of this, baby.”

“Better not, cause you’re stuck with me forever whether you want it or not.” The end of her sentence falls out into a low moan as George’s tongue starts to flick at one of her nipples. She can already feel arousal pooling in her belly, and she thrusts her hips forward in search of friction on her aching clit. “No teasing Georgie, please,” she whines as he starts to pinch the nipple he doesn’t have in his mouth. “Need you so badly.”

George chuckles as he pulls away from Y/N’s chest, letting his eyes roam over the few marks he’s left over her neck and chest. He spent so long being hesitant to make Y/N his, so now he marks her up every chance he gets to prove to everyone else, and himself, that he really is the one she comes home to every night. He ghosts his fingers down her sides, watching goosebumps explode in their wake. “What do you need, baby? Want me to lick that pretty pussy of yours to get it ready for my cock?”

“God yes Georgie, please,” Y/N begs, dragging her nails down his torso. When her hands reach the waistband of his jeans she starts to work at the button, desperately needing to feel his bare skin against hers.

George hooks his fingers around the band of Y/N’s leggings, and he gives her a wink before pulling them down around her knees. He runs his hands back up her thighs and starts to toy with the band of her panties. “Should I take these off too, baby? What do you think?”

“Unless you plan on eating my cunt through the fabric then I’d say so,” Y/N teases, lifting her hips up.

“You wanna be cheeky huh?” George asks, letting the band go so it snaps against her skin. “I guess you won’t mind me doing this if you need your cunt eaten so badly.”

The way George says cunt sends a shiver down her spine, and just as Y/N opens her mouth to ask him what he’s talking about a sharp gasp leaves instead, as he rips her underwear off of her body. He tosses the shredded fabric aside and Y/n pulls him down into a hot kiss. “I liked that pair you fucking prick.”

“Don’t worry baby I’ll buy you as many pairs of panties as you want once I’m done ruining your pretty pussy, okay?” George gets off the bed and pulls Y/N’s leggings all the way down and off before he starts to get rid of his own bottoms. “Though I much prefer it when you don’t wear any at all.” He gives her a wink as he finally takes off the rest of his clothes. “Easier access.”

George kneels on the end of the bed and takes one of Y/N’s knees in each hand before he pulls her legs apart. His eyes are immediately drawn to her core, and he lets his eyes roam over her dripping heat. “So wet for me already, baby. You sure you need my tongue to get you ready?”

Y/N’s chest heaves with deep breaths as George starts to press open mouthed kisses up her thigh towards her pussy. “Listen to me very carefully, George,” Y/N starts, threading her fingers into his hair. “If you ever wanna cum inside of me again, you’re gonna stop giving me so much shit and just fucking eat me out already.” She tugs on George’s hair so he looks up at her. “Understand?”

Instead of answering George leans in and licks a stripe from Y/N’s entrance up to her clit before sucking the sensitive bud between her lips. Her hips grind down on against his face, and George lets out a moan, letting his lips vibrate against her clit. He’s rewarded with the most beautiful noises he’s every heard come out of Y/N’s mouth, and he slips a finger into her pussy in return. George fucks her with his finger slowly, as he eagerly sucks her clit, letting his teeth lightly brush it every so often.

“So good, Georgie,” Y/N moans, working her hips down against his mouth. She knows George would eat her out for hours if she let him, since he’s done it before, so she tugs on his hair to get his attention. “More, please. Wanna be nice and ready for you cock.”

George hums in laughter, adding another finger alongside the first. He flicks at her clit with his tongue as he starts to fuck her faster, letting his fingers curl inside of Y/N. “Come on my fingers, baby. And then I’ll give you what you want.” He goes back to sucking her clit harshly, and starts to curl his fingers with every thrust, letting the tip of his middle finger brush her g-spot.

“So good, Georgie. You always eat my pussy so well.” Y/N clenches around George’s fingers, her orgasm steadily approaching. She brings the hand that’s not in George’s hair up to her breast and starts to roll her nipple between her fingertips. Her hips are working feverishly against George’s face and her toes curl as her climax nears. “Gonna cum, George, fuck.”

George curls his fingers against her g-spot as he nibbles on her clit, and Y/N’s back arches off of the bed as she cums, George’s name leaving her lips and her hand tugging on his hair. Her thighs shake as she comes down from her high, and George slowly pulls his mouth away and lets his fingers fuck into her slowly to help her come down from her high.

“Feel good?” George teases as he crawls back up her body. He presses a few brief kisses to her mouth, his hips moving to allow his cock to drag against the soft skin of her thigh. George feels like he’s been hard for hours, and he desperate needs to feel Y/N wrapped around him.

“I know what would feel better,” Y/N responds. She hooks one of her legs around George’s hip and pulls him in closer as she leans up on one of her elbows, so her lips just barely brush his earlobe. “Got my pussy nice and ready for you Georgie, can I have your cock now? Pretty please?”

George lets out a groan and pushes Y/N back against the bed as he grips the base of his cock. He lines himself up with her entrance and just barely presses his head against her heat. “You sure you’re ready for me, baby? I could always give you my mouth again.”

Y/N bites her lip and lets her hands run all over her torso, occasionally stopping to pinch or flick at one of her nipples. George’s eyes get even darker, and she lets out a quiet moan. “And I could always just get myself off, Georgie.” Y/N starts to trail one of her hands down towards her core and a small gasp leaves her lips when George grips her wrist tightly.

“Oh please,” George chides as he hikes her leg higher onto his hip. “Nothing makes you feel as good as my cock.” To prove his point George slams his hips forward, burying himself completely in Y/N’s wet heat. She tips her head back and a long whine leaves her lips, prompting George to slowly roll his hips. “But if you think your fingers can do better than me.”

When George starts to pull out Y/N wraps both of her legs around his hips and pulls him back in. “Don’t even fucking think about it George.” She pushes her hips down against him and they both let out breathy moans. “How are you gonna knock me up if you don’t fuck me good?”

“Fuck,” George groans, before he starts to move his hips, setting a fast pace. He slams back into her with every movement of his hips, watching her tits bounce with every thrust as her mouth drops open in a low moan. “So pretty, baby. Always look so good when I ruin you with my cock.” George picks Y/N’s lower half up higher so he can fuck into her deeper and they both whine at the new angle. “Fuck, baby. How does my cock feel, hm? Tell me how good I fuck you.”

Y/N’s fingers dig into George’s shoulders and she’s unable to control the noises coming out of her mouth. He’s hitting her g-spot with every thrust, and with the pleasure from her first climax still thrumming through her body, Y/N imagines she won’t last much longer. “So full, Georgie. Love having your big cock stretching me out. Love being full of you.”

“That’s right,” George growls, bring one of his hands to her core. He starts to rub harsh circles on her clit, and he moans when Y/N’s walls clench around him even tighter. “That’s not all you want though, is it, baby?”

“Want your cum Georgie, please,” Y/N begs. “Need you to fill me up. Wanna feel you deep inside me please.” Her words spur George on, and he starts to slam his hips harder, bringing her to her climax. Y/N shouts George’s name as she comes, her nails digging into her shoulder as he back arches off the bed. Pleasure is coursing through her body and ger walls are fluttering and twitching around George’s cock.

George leans down to kiss her, mashing their mouths together messily. He can feel his orgasm approaching and he grips Y/N tighter. “Fuck, Y/N. Gonna come soon, baby. Your pussy feels so fucking good, so tight for me.” George’s hips start to lose their rhythm and he takes a deep breath to try and calm himself down. “Where should I finish, hm? On your tummy? Maybe on those pretty tits of yours?”

“You know where I want it George, please.” Tears have started to leak out of the corners of her eyes from the overstimulation, and shockwaves of pleasure continue to move through Y/N’s body.

“You want me to cum inside you, hm? Want me to shoot my load up into you, get you nice and full of my cum. Knock you up so you can be nice and full with my baby?” When all Y/N does is not George slams into her harder. “Use your fucking words. Wanna hear you say it.”

“Please finish inside me,” Y/N pants. “Wanna be so full of your cum, please.” Y/N swallows thickly, looking up into George’s eyes. “Knock me up Georgie. Want everyone to know what a whore I am for your cum. Put a baby inside of me, please.”

George closes his eyes as his orgasm rocks through his body, his hips stilling as his cock starts to twitch, forcing his release as deep into Y/N as it can go. “Gonna get you nice and knocked up,” George pants as he starts to come back down. Once he’s fully emptied himself into Y/N he slowly pulls out, before slipping two fingers back into her wet heat. “Can’t let any leak out,” he teases.

Y/N whines as George lays down next to her, clenching around the two fingers inside of her. She’s terribly sore and sensitive from her orgasms, but she loves the feeling of George’s fingers inside of her. “Kiss me Georgie, please.”

George chuckles and leans down, kissing Y/N slowly. He curls his fingers before slowly pulling them out as their mouths move together and his cock twitches when Y/N moans into his mouth. “Full enough, Y/N?” he teases as he breaks their kiss.

“Depends, we’ll have to wait a few weeks to see if I’m full of your baby or not,” Y/N responds with a wink.

“Ugh,” George groans, dropping his head to rest their foreheads together. His free hand comes to rest on her stomach, pressing down slightly. “You can’t tease me like that, Y/N.” He presses their lips together softly for a moment.

Y/N bumps their foreheads together softly, prompting George to look her in the eyes. “Who said I was teasing?”

George’s fingertips dig into her stomach and his heart feels like it might beat out of his chest. “What? What are you talking about?”

“I stopped taking my birth control. A few weeks ago, after you somehow convinced Harry to talk to me about having a baby,” Y/N reveals, a blush taking over her cheeks. “I don’t care, that we’re not married or that we haven’t been together for that long. I’ve been wanting something more with you since I was seventeen and I don’t see the point in denying myself that any longer.”

“I love you, Y/N. So much. And I can’t wait to start on this new journey with you.” George pauses so he can kiss her sweetly. “This is all I’ve ever wanted. You’re all I’ve ever wanted.”

George takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly as he watches his daughter sleep. She’s resting on his chest, with Y/N pressed close to his side. He watches her little chest rise and fall as she sleeps, and the first rays of sunshine illuminate her face. George knows he should be asleep, catching as much rest as he can while the baby does, but no matter how tired he is he can’t seem to fall asleep. He rubs his daughter’s back slowly, watching her eyelids twitch as she dreams. She’s already six days old, and George still can’t believe this is his life.

He used to walk around with a dark cloud over his head, too plagued with thoughts of never having this life to allow himself to bask in rays of sunshine and happiness. But as the sun starts to rise and his daughter starts to fuss on his chest, he finally allows himself to soak it all in.

A new chapter of his life has been thrust from the dark corners of his mind and into the light, and he can’t wait to see how it unfolds.

#George Weasley #George Weasley imagine #George Weasley smut #gw #golden

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bitsandbobsofwriting · 3 years

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Everyone cries (but only because they’re stupid), they go home, and Leon wins a lot of money :)

Merlin’s Angry Magic Reveal, part 5 (final part)

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

TW: Lots of death again I suppose (you’ll see what I mean)

The gang watches on in amazement as Merlin calls lightening strike after lightening strike, seemingly unbothered by the chaos around him, and the power he was displaying.

Merlin really wasn’t kidding when he said they should be scared of him. Damn.

They worry for a moment, and Lancelot has to hold Arthur back, as they notice the first of the three enemy sorcerers step into their line of sight. But they calm quickly when they see Merlin look towards her and nod, before going back to the battle at hand. If he trusted her, then they would to.

Elyan points to her and shouts at everyone to keep a tight grip on the horses as they see the ground beginning to shake, the ripples in the mud heading towards them at an alarming pace.

“Brace yourselves!” is shouted by Leon moments before it reaches them, and all of them are thrown to the ground violently.

No one is injured, but they are dazed, and it takes them a few moments to right themselves again. The next time they look out, a frenzied blue fire is ripping into those closest to Merlin, and dissipating into the air around him.

Now with some space, it would appear that Merlin had taken inspiration from his new found friend, and the ground shakes even more violently than before (though this time much more contained, The Gang doesn’t feel even a small tremor where they stand).

Gwen speaks up quietly, but still loud enough that everyone can hear her over the shrieking:

“Gods above... how long has he been able to do that?”

Morgana answers her:

“The Druids don’t fuck around. They did say he would be The Most Powerful Warlock to Ever Walk the Earth, I guess we should’ve seen this coming.”

Everyone nods distractedly, but no one can tear their gaze from the scene in front of them. The ground snaps shut with one last rumble, over half the army having disappeared, and they see the remaining soldiers turn to flee.

Every one of them gasps in shock as vines burst from the ground, and begin to rip the deserters to shreds. None of them thought that Merlin was the type to kill someone who had their back turned, but like he said earlier... he was pissed.

Suddenly the battlefield is near empty, and silent. They’re distracted by the slight tilt of Merlin’s head, and the distant sounds of howling wolves (no doubt summoned to take care of the last few soldiers), so don’t see the frenzied King sneak up on him before it’s too late.

Arthur takes in a sudden breath when he notices and begins sprinting towards Merlin, no one holding him back this time.

The King of Camelot shouts his warning too late as the sword pierces Merlin’s back, and is forced with a shove out through his chest.

The sorcerers in front of him stare on in shock, too far away from Arthur for him to be paying them any attention.

He pulls his sword out as Merlin’s attacker stumbles back, and cuts him down without a thought, without looking away from Merlin for even a second.

He collapses on the floors behind his friend (could he really call him that after last night?) and begins to beg (begging who, he isn’t quite sure. Anyone that would listen, he supposes) :

“ No.... no no no, Come on Merls, don’t do this to me. You promised.”

He has to hold in a pained gasp as he turns Merlin over, and is struck with horror as he realises the exact resemblance to the vision from four days ago.

The blank stare of Merlin’s eyes, the blood from his mouth. All identical.

Arthur is so wrapped up in his shock, that he doesn’t notice The Gang finally catching up, and gathering around him.

Everyone is in shock, painful cries escaping them. Both at the death of their friend, and the sporadic breathing and sobs of Arthur.

Lancelot pushes to the front, and kneels on the other side of Merlin, taking his already cold hand in his own and whispering to himself (to Merlin) :

“Come on.... come on, Merlin. You can do it, you’re immortal remember. Come on.”

After what felt like forever, the forgotten sorcerers push through the crowd. Everyone is too shocked to notice the intrusion.

The girl takes in a deep breath, and whispers:

“Emrys...” before crouching next to Arthur, and tilting her head, as if waiting.

She looks up to her two companions, and they nod at her, seeming to all be agreeing on something. She swallows and looks back towards Merlin’s blank face, reaching towards the hilt of the sword at his spine.

Leon and Elyan jump into action, grabbing her shoulders and pulling her back:

“What are you doing?!” and “Don’t touch him!” are shouted simultaneously as they grip her, but she looks back in annoyance before replying sharply:

“I’m trying to help! How do you expect him to wake up with a great big bloody sword through his chest?”

This seems to get Arthur’s attention, and he looks up for the first time, eyes red and cheeks wet as he stares at her in confusion.

Her annoyance fades, and she gives him a soft look as she explains:

“He will be fine, I promise. But he won’t wake up if he’s just immediately going to die again. His body has to heal before his soul returns to it. We need to take it out.”

In Arthur’s state of shock and grief, it takes him a few moments to fully register what was said, but he shakes his head and looks back at her, before saying in a quiet, shaking voice:

“He’ll come back?”

All three of the sorcerers nod slowly understanding his grief, and the girl reaches for the hilt of the sword once again, slowly this time.

“Do it.” from Arthur prompts her to grip the metal, and pull it from Merlin’s body with a sickening squelch.

The whole gang grimaces as it come away slick with blood, and try not to look at the floor as the puddle around him begins to expand even quicker than before.

Everyone stares at Merlin with bated breath, waiting and hoping (well... the gang is hoping. The three helpers don’t seem too worried) for any sort of movement.

After what seemed like hours, Merlin’s eyes blink slowly, and he brings in half a shuddered breath before coughing violently, and rolling off of Arthur’s lap and onto the floor, onto his hands and knees.

The Gang stares in shock as their previously dead friend coughs and splutters, blood flying from his mouth, before he collapses down onto his back, clutching his chest:

“That bloody hurt.”

Gwaine is the first to begin laughing, not necessarily out of humour, but an adrenaline crash mixed with a no-longer-dead friend will do that to you sometimes.

Merlin stares up in confusion as everyone joins in, some hysterical (and probably still in shock), and some just quietly chucking at how stupid they’d been.

Percival is the first to catch his breath and speak:

“Are you telling me... that after all that worrying... we literally just had to pull the thing out of you, and you’d be fine again?”

Merlin shrugs as best he can from his position on the floor (made even harder by the fact that one of his hands was being gripped by Arthur, the other by Lancelot) and replies with a smirk:

“I guess so. I told you I’d be fine!”

Everyone shakes their heads in disbelief, and Lancelot stands, pulling Merlin and Arthur with him. Merlin is quickly engulfed in a tight group hug, the sorcerers having just managed to escape and standing off to the side, staring on in amusement.

Arthur is the last to pull away, and Merlin’s now free arms wrap around him without hesitation as he buries his head in his friend’s (?) neck:

“I told you. Nothing can keep me away from you... at least not for too long. Pull it out a little quicker next time, yeah?”

Arthur laughs quietly and pulls back, pressing his forehead against Merlin’s before quietly replying with a smile:

“Bold of you to assume I will ever allow this to happen again.”

It’s Merlin’s turn to laugh this time, and the both of them ignore the confusion on everyone else’s faces (as far as they were all concerned, that comment came unprompted out of nowhere).

Arthur coughs slightly and pulls back, his face flushed, seeming to remember that they were surrounded by their closest friends.

Merlin rolls his eyes before also stepping back, and giving Arthur a pointed look:

“Don’t look so embarrassed Arthur. I’m pretty sure this lot knew before we did.”

He doesn’t give Arthur time to reply, instead looking around at his friends with an exhausted, but shining smile on his face:

“Time to go home, I think.”

The journey back to Camelot is relaxed, and full of smiles. Arthur spends the whole journey glued to Merlin’s side, and Leon spends the whole journey with a self satisfied smirk on his face (if they get their act together at some point in the next 2 weeks, which Leon has absolute faith they will, then he wins a lot of money).

They had invited the three sorcerers to join them, but they declined, saying they had been missing a long time, and wanted to get home. The Gang provided them with some spare clothes, and helped them catch some of the enemy’s horses, (who had miraculously not run too far during the battle) before sending them on their way with an open invite to visit Camelot any time they would like.

They rush home, but they aren’t nearly as tense and desperate as they were on the way out, so it takes them an extra day to get there, not that any of them minded.

Once Merlin had gained a little of his strength back, he reached out to the Druids who remained in the city as advisors, so that the council could be updated on the state of things.

The people were told that the King and the Inner Council had been successful in their mission, and would be returning home within a few days, victorious.

The meeting they got at the gates to the city was astounding. Banners and flowers and declarations of celebration surrounded them all the way from the city walls, to the castle, and even the Council seemed in a good mood (a rare occurrence).

They were especially happy when Arthur dumped a dented crown, and a slashed and bloody cloak on the table, announcing that the opposition had no heir, and if they moved quickly, the neighbouring Kingdom would be absorbed into Camelot. Arthur, King by Conquest, had almost doubled the size of his kingdom.

He sent out half an army, along with Leon, Elyan, and Lancelot, within the week. They took medical supplies and food, as a show of good faith to the commoners. The first month or so would be spent clearing the kingdom of any supporters of the fallen king, and spreading compassion and help. Once that was complete, Arthur would go there personally, to greet his new people (and probably sign a lot of paperwork, but bleugh).

Merlin and Arthur are sitting back in their comfy chairs by the fire in Arthur’s chambers, when Arthur casually mentions gifting the new land to Merlin, and making him King. Or at least Lord.

Merlin looked at him indignantly, it had only been a few days since they got back, and they were both still exhausted, but he replied with such vigour that you would never have known that he’d died barely a week prior:

“Absolutely not. I don’t think I would make a good King, Arthur. And I don’t want it anyway. I’d be weeks away, and everyone I care about lives here. You can’t get rid of me that easily, especially not after such an emotional confession.” He raise an eyebrow and smirks as Arthur flushes, looking to his lap:

“Shut up.”

The conversation hadn’t been had yet, but neither felt awkward about it, they both knew the truth. After Merlin woke up again, it felt like time had reset, like once more they had all the time in the world. Neither of them are great at talking about their emotions, and both were prepared to wait until the moment seemed right, until they both had the right words.

Merlin laughs at Arthur, before absentmindedly reaching out a hand towards him. Arthur takes it without question, and looks back to Merlin, face serious, but loving:

“I meant it Merlin. I love you, with everything I have. I would give all of it up for you, the crown, Camelot, everything.”

Merlin smiles, blushing, and stands, pulling Arthur to stand with him.

They still grip hands, and stare into the blue of each others eyes as Merlin’s voice echoes in Arthur’s head:

“I love you too. I told you Arthur, this is where I belong, with you.”

Both of them ignore the tears gathering in their eyes as they lean forwards. They meet in the middle, in a slow kiss that has both of their hearts jumping.

Merlin wraps his arms around the King’s waist as Arthur lifts his hands up to rest against his Sorcerer’s chest, pulling at his collar slightly.

They pull away slowly, needing breath, but not willing to part as they once again find themselves resting their foreheads against each other:

“Merls, you'll stay, won’t you?”

Merlin responds without even a second of hesitation, a fond smile on his face:

“Forever.”

Leon gets his money (which Gwaine never stops grumbling about: “If they’d held off for two more weeks, I would’ve won!”) and is very smug about it.

As time passes, Morgana’s terrifying visions start to make more sense.

Gaius and Hunith did in fact cry... three years down the line when Arthur finally requested that the Druids perform one of their binding ceremonies on himself and Merlin, their closest friends and family as the only witnesses.

(There was, of course, a larger, more public celebration of their joining, but the private affair was the important one.)

The silver crown, forged by the Druids behind Merlin’s back (as a sort of... wedding gift, Arthur would say) was used a few days later in Merlin’s official crowning. Made to look like leaves and vines and flowers and berries, truly the most Druidic, magical, nature inspired crown anyone had ever set their eyes upon.

(Arthur thought that Merlin never looked better, more himself, than when he donned the crown. But Arthur would never say that out loud, Merlin was still shy at heart, and he didn’t want to discourage him from wearing it.)

The tombstone, they discovered, was the fallen King’s. He was cruel, and cowardly, but Arthur had honour, and had the crown and cloak washed and buried in his bloodline’s cemetery. Nothing fancy, just a stone and a name and two dates.

(For history’s sake. After learning the truth about magic, Arthur swore that he would never knowingly erase history, not even his own mistakes.)

The empty chambers were obvious in the end. It may have taken three years for them to be officially wed, but their rooms were down the corridor from one another... and Arthur had a nicer bed. It only took a week or so before they were sleeping besides one another every night, and who would argue against it? Arthur was King, and Merlin had once again saved the kingdom, they could bloody well do what they liked.

They never actually figured out specifically when Morgana saw nine of them sat at the table, looking blank. Merlin was so often late to meetings, leaving the rest of them to wait patiently (or not so patiently) for his arrival. It could have been any number of times over the years.

After all their fretting, the anxiety of the war and the worry for her friend had led Morgana down a grim path. Perhaps it was because she was looking for reasons to dissuade Merlin from going?

Whatever the cause, her and Merlin continue to work together to hone their crafts, Gwen supporting her every step of the way.

Now. Morgana and Gwen. They were a little more subtle about their relationship, but they also moved a little quicker, and were quietly bound to one another within a year of the Great Battle of Merlin’s BAMFness. Not that anyone was that surprised, mind you.

Speaking of Merlin’s BAMFness, there were definitely more shows of Merlin’s power once they got home. Despite being Court Sorcerer, Merlin was still affected by the years spent hiding and in fear (something that Arthur never quite forgave himself for), and never used his magic in public much, not if he could help it.

He used it for simple things, or when asked, but never would he allow himself to succumb to his emotions, positive or negative, and always kept tight control. The last thing he wanted to do, was accidently convince someone that magic was dangerous and evil and undo all the work he and Arthur had done.

Nowadays, after months of pestering by the gang (mainly Gwaine and Percival) to “show us something cool! Come on Merlin, you defeated an entire army, we know you can show us something cool!” , he was definitely more comfortable using his magic in every day situations.

Arthur was eternally grateful for that, he had done all he could, and he continued to support Merlin, but he knew that unless that validation came from elsewhere as well, Merlin would never be comfortable in his own skin.

BUT for now they have everything. Merthur is happy, Leon is smug, Morgwen is happy and smug, and the gang stays together, and happy, forever.

All because Merlin got depressed and angry and yelled at Arthur in the middle of the forest one day.

THE END

Actually the end this time. Might be a bit anti climactic, but happy ending are a little anti climactic sometimes, and that’s ok.

I have a bunch of drafts on the go but if you’ve got anything specific you want my take on, go for it ✌️

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lupically · 3 years

Text

#97DB88 | BENNETT.

genre | angst, (unofficially) soulmate au

word count | 1885

warning | none

note | hello anon (ˊ•͈ ◡ •͈ˋ) thank you so much for requesting! i hope this is what you are going for (even though... soulmate aus are usually more fluff than angst...)!

request | from anon

the portal stood in the middle of the storm, swirling, haunting, tempting.

the stormterror had descended without a warning, creating a massive storm in mondstadt that was impossible to miss even from miles away. you and bennett were lucky enough to have been able to head back behind city walls before the wind barrier took over and created a dome around the living space.

it was not safe inside the city, but compared to being stranded outside, you two would much rather be with the others on the inside.

your first plan was to find fischl just in case that girl would get herself stuck in some trouble. you two made it past the stairs, which took some mighty effort because of the strong whirlwind, and you were about to follow bennett and head to one of the residential buildings when a familiar fight caught the corner of your eye.

you stopped to take a closer look at it.

a portal.

no, not just any portal.

it was the same portal that appeared on the roof of your apartment building back on earth, it was the same portal you recklessly entered before you found yourself in mondstadt, your body hitting the head of an unfortunate boy you have now come to know as a loyal friend.

clutching your fists together, you huffed out a breath of immense disbelief as you glared at the blue-black object.

you, and bennett, have been through heaven and hell trying to find a way back to where you belong. for a while, after all the errors and failures, you had even thought about waving your earthly life a farewell and simply settling in mondstadt for the rest of your life.

the thought of staying in mondstadt was not too bad of an idea, of course. the future you could pursue in teyvat with a vision and a sword was infinitely more interesting and exciting than the future you could have chased on earth with a textbook and a degree.

not to mention your friendship with bennett was surely an irreplaceable one. you two have ventured into dark forests together, solved ancient puzzles, and held your hands through dungeons with each other. but, most importantly, whenever night flows and you two would giggle in his bedroom, with you sleeping on his bed and him laying on a mattress set on the ground just next to it.

you have shared nights with him for so long now, you were unsure if you could ever fill the hole of his shape in your earth bedroom.

but, still, you could never abandon the thought of leaving your family and your friends behind; people who have raised and loved you, as well as people you grew up with. your heart would not let you forget the memories you have made with them. whenever you are close to giving up, reminiscence brushes past your body and brings you the smell of your mother's smell and the sound of your best friend's laugher.

ah... just when you thought you were returning home again, here you were, standing before the gateway back to earth in the middle of a dragon's tantrum. if you had plans to go back to earth now, this would be your chance.

flashes of your childhood memories occupied your mind as you took a brave step forward, then another, and another. visions of your friends and your family flooded into your head as you made your way against the stormterror's wind; you were smiling and thinking about the exciting reunion with your pets, or even the disbelieving looks you would get from your best friend when you tell them about mondstadt, about teyvat, about archons and dragons.

just a few more steps and you would be home. just a few more—

"[name]!"

a hand curled around your wrist and halted your movement. you turned around immediately, your gaze shaking with returning light when you found bennett behind you.

he has his hand up to his face, a poor attempt to block out the wind that continuously blew dust and air into his squinted eyes. looking at you, his gaze was nothing short of urgent. "what are you doing? we should head home and take cover! we can't fight the stormterror!"

"i... bennett... i found..." you looked at him, then you nudged your head behind your shoulder at the blazing portal, "the portal... i found the portal..."

he stared at you for a second. his eyes moved between you and the oval-shaped portal emitting vividly behind you. the gears turned in his head before, against all odds that burned in his chest, he perked up and tightened his grip on your wrist excitedly.

"the portal!" he exclaimed, his eyes deadly focused on the floating object. "like the one we have been looking for? the one that can send you home?"

"yeah." you nodded.

"that's good, isn't it? we have been searching for it for so long!" he said, shaking your arm excitedly as the concept of departure took its sweet time to settle in his head. "you can go home!"

you softened. "i can go home."

you felt a heavy churning in your stomach as soon as you saw bennett—the first person you met on this unthinkable journey. albeit you actually dropped onto him when you fell from the sky so the first encounter was against both of your will, he was still your first friend in teyvat, and he has stuck with you ever since.

your journey together replayed like an adventure movie in your head. his willingness to look for an exit with you, his selflessness in choosing to take care of you, his protectiveness whenever you both encounter danger along the way—bennett has truly been the kindest to you, and you weren't sure if you could deal with missing him when you leave.

as if he could read your mind (you would not be surprised if he actually could), bennett flashed you a bright smile—always, always a bright smile—as he took your hands in his carefully and held it before his chest. there was laugher in his voice, a form of boyish relaxation that only he would be able to exude underneath the wrath of his unfortunate destiny.

"now, now! you better not be hesitating about going back home, [name]!" he said in a scolding manner. "as much as i want you to stay in mondstadt with me, i don't think i can be selfish enough to hold you back from being with your family again."

"well, i for one know that... if the situation is reversed and i was in your family's shoes..." he hummed and rolled his eyes up in thought, then he returned to his grin. "it would be great that you met new friends somewhere else, but ultimately, i would still want you to come back home, so i think your parents may be thinking the same thing too!"

you pursed your lips together.

you knew he was just saying it to make you feel better about wanting to leave. you knew him just as much as he knew you, and you could read him just as clearly as he could read him.

there was a glassy plain of tears before his eyes, wobbling in front of the beautiful jade windows. he was not smiling with his eyes, either, like he always does whenever he was with you.

it took minimal cues for you to understand that it was straining him to pretend as if he was happy and dandy about you going home, but somehow he kept on the happy facade even though it was tearing him to shreds.

because bennett saw in your hesitation that you were not having trouble deciding because you wanted to be with him more than you wanted to go home, but because you were worried that he would be left alone after your departure. it was not because of him, personally, that you felt reluctant, and that alone was enough for bennett to let you go.

if you had hesitated because you wanted to be with him, he would have fought for you to stay with all he could. but you didn't, he could see; even though you two were so close, even though the proximity of your souls were vivid and warm, there was a more familiar home for you somewhere else.

bennett only wanted you to be comfortable and happy back where you could feel like you belong. if it was eath that could provide it, he can let you go. he can do that.

"you're not leaving me alone, [name]," he said, "so don't worry. i'll be okay."

you two have talked about it once. the unlikely coincidence that he was the person you fall onto out of everyone else in mondstadt, and the uncanny chance that you two managed to hit it off so well too. you two were like souls that were crafted together and got lost on the path to existence; soulmates separated by time and dimensions, but soulmates, nonetheless.

if bennett could just remember that.

"it's your home," he whispered.

"it's my home," you repeated softly, gripping his hands back.

taking a step forward, you released his hands and reached up for your hair. you took off the clip you have been using to keep your hair away from your eyes, then you moved forward and carefully placed it into bennett's hair. your hand slowly glided the side of his face, your eyes focused on his features to engrave his face in your memory. when your finger reached the tip of his jaw, you leaned in and planted a chaste kiss on his cheek.

"thank you so much for everything, bennett," you said.

"i–ah! you're wel–welcome," he mumbled as he fidgetted nervously.

ah! this is the worst circumstance to be kissed for the first time!

he was quick to collect himself and grinned at you. he was smiling from his eyes this time. "well, what are you waiting for? off you go, now!"

your lips quirked down into a bitter smile. your legs felt heavy when they knew they were to walk away from bennett. standing on your spot, you gently pressed your forehead against his, bumping against his goggles lightly as you whispered a tender farewell.

and he stood in the middle of the storm to make sure you left with the portal before he could dare himself to find shelter. bennett smiled to himself when the portal disappeared from before the water fountain; he was officially standing in a mondstadt without you.

as he turned around to look for shelter, he reminded himself to remember the soulmate theory you two established playfully together.

soulmates who are separated, soulmates who are far away, but all is well despite that, because he will kiss you from a thousand worlds away if he has to, and he will hold you through all the time and spaces the universe could offer. if given the chance, if one day the universe decides to fight for your reunion again, he will run, fly, crawl to you.

"soulmates," bennett whispered under his breath, and before he made his way to someone hiding in a restaurant, he wiped away the tears that rolled down his cheeks.

#genshin x reader #genshin imagines #genshin impact imagines #genshin x you #genshin impact x reader #genshin scenarios #genshin impact x you #genshin impact #genshin bennett #genshin bennett x reader #genshin impact bennett #bennett #bennett imagines #bennett x reader #genshin impact scenarios

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prof-peach · 4 years

Note

I know on your island you guys deal with a lot of pokemon from a lot of scenarios, but have you ever had to deal with ex-rocket pokemon? Either surrendered or found. Would there have to be a specific protocol for that, or safety measures?

Yeah we get a few that come to us each month, someone either hands them in, or we get them sent to us from other places that can’t handle them.

As for treatment we have to take each case sepratly, the local authorities send us poison, bug and grass types who need rehabilitation, usually it’s not too bad and we socialise them for a while. No people, just give them time to hang out with their own for a while. This can take anywhere up to a few months, just them and some other Pokemon kicking back and taking time out. We see a lot of Pokemon who didn’t get a chance to learn about their skills, their home, they never had a good family life, they often got torn from the wild and remember humans quite harshly. This time is key for them to settle into normal Pokemon behaviour. They are usually surrounded by others and can eventually pick up the right social queues and etiquettes, when they behave like the others, we start to introduce humans more, one member of staff will be assigned groups to care for, usually handling the rescues alone for the first few months, so the Pokemon being helped can get use to just one person at the start. Once that trust has grown, and they seem confortable, we introduce more members of staff. At this point it’s usually clear who will be rehomed fast, and who will need extra care, and we can divide up time appropriately. Recovery depends o the Pokemon in question, and what they’ve gone through. We’ve got patients with us that have stayed on the island for many years now due to relapses in behvaiour, if anything they’ve become part of our personal teams, part of the family, so I suppose they usually find a home one way or another. When possible we release those who are fit but otherwise uninterested in being a trained Pokemon, there are many release sites that the regional rangers oversee all around the world. Getting them home isn’t too hard luckily.

Because we have such a high population of bugs and grass Pokemon we just handle them more. They can find a group and settle here, without any outside interference.

On occasion we will personally choose to take on difficult cases, our lab is pretty hellbent on taking the Pokemon that are deemed “too far gone”, mostly because of the space we can offer them. Grey handles a lot of unruly water Pokemon, he has no fear of a Gyarados, doesn’t shy away from defensive Walrien or Carracosta, that’s just his area of love I guess? You have to love the work if you put yourself in the way of pretty big, pretty angry Pokemon, right?

Either way, we have our joy areas, and work with the odd species that can’t be otherwise helped by normal means. We use unorthodox methods, perhaps have too much patience, and tend to get really stuck into the work.

One case that’s a wonderful example was a dowdy little Salemance that came to us, had been shifted about by Rockets to fight in underground battle rings, it’s poor wings torn to shreds over the years, didn’t fly anymore, pretty sure the original trainer wanted it that way so it couldn’t just fly off. But it came to us so angry, and so violent towards anyone and anything, well I just about had it with the big idiot. Threw down with the dumb baby myself to put him in his pace once and for all. He was being outwardly nasty to everyone, snapped at everything. So I waited, and dodged, and ran, and hid until he had exhausted himself, and then used its bad vision against it and body slammed the little devil. He got tired trying to thrash me off, fell over and stayed there. Because I didn’t hurt him, I simply used his big dumb baby energy against him, he lost. Since then he was under me in the hierarchy, and we were able to get close enough to treat him, get his wounds seen too. He didn’t dare snap again after that, least not at any of the team. He got fitted with a prosthetic wing, has been flying for about half a year now, and is in the process of being adopted by a lovely young couple who live out in the mountains away from any towns, perfect place for him. I think they run a pumpkin farm out there and needed some defence. Me and that Salamanca are friends now, he’s learnt that just because a humans in a position of power doesn’t mean you have to cower, no ones ping to hurt them now, they’re safe, they can enjoy again. We socialised them, we tended to them, they’re not perfect, they still get spooked by too much noise, they’re jittery with crowds, that’s to be expected.

This is a case I mention because it’s a difficult one, not a lot of sane people will throw themselves at a Pokemon like that, and this is what the work is like. Sometimes you just do what’s right, even if it could end pretty badly, luck, great training, and years of practice are on my side, and for that reason I’m able to take in difficult ones. Each professor will handle different Pokemon, different types and varying levels of difficulty, all help is good help, you don’t have to wrestle a dragon, you can handle things a hundred different ways, and hell they might just work! The only true constant is patience. You sit up at night with them, when it’s stormy or windy and they’re scared, you hold your ground when they’re lashing out, you sit through the worst of it with them. You get bitten and cut and bruised and broken and it’s worth it because at the end they get to start again, they get a go at a second life that’s way better than what they had before.

Very rarely will we ever initiate attacks on a Pokemon on the island, we usually do all damage control with non-violent, defensive methods, and at the very most the rescue Pokemon will be put to sleep or knocked to the ground and immobilised. I see some folks battling against their rocket Pokemon, which can be a great use of energy but also can plant more seeds of distrust between the humans and Pokemon involved. It’s best to at least leave that until you’ve built up trust between you and the Pokemon I think, but each to their own I suppose.

If we need to do psychology we send them to Pari, who does therapy sessions with individuals who think they need it or are referred to her, she’s quite an accomplished student and uses my dear old porygon-z as a translator to talk with patients about their issues. Life is a lot easier when there’s less of a language barrier. We offer pretty much everything we can to the rescues we get, and they are given dedicated space upon arrival.

As for safety measures, yes, of course we have them. Gear is necessary when handling certain types, fireproof overalls and gloves are most common. We always go in with a functional pair of Pokemon, alwasy two minimum. We have this minimum because of many Pokemon going to attack our partner, missing on purpose, and going straight for us. One partner is offence, one is defence, you must cover your back, that defensive individual is more for you than anyone else, if you get hurt you can’t help others effectively. It really depends on the case, I’ve handled big Pokemon who got freaked out by heavy protective gear. Their old trainer would wear safety gear while being cruel to them, so we had to ditch it all, we realised it was causing problems and dealt with it fast. There’s also a number of first aid stations all over the island, not only for the sake of the law but also, we all get hurt a fair bit on the job.

Hope you feel informed!

#pokemon #prof.peach #peach talks

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robinsarm · 3 years

Note

Heya!! Can I get some sleepy Quentin headcanons? I'm on a "monster befriends human" kick, so maybe something involving that? You said you needed ideas, so here ya go?

Sleepy Quentin, huh, @chaoticlovingdreamer? I think I can scrounge up a couple >:3

I assume that a lot of people see Quentin as a pill or caffeine fiend, especially while he lived in the real world. But what I think some people forget is that he also has ADD/ADHD as stated by his movie. Do you understand what lack of medication and exhaustion does to a person with ADHD? It's not fun, I'll say that much.

When Quentin is really hitting the bottom of his energy tank he gets more and more distant from everyone else. He'll stop talking, start sitting further away from the fire, and intrusive/depressing thoughts start to riddle his mind. Since a healthy dose of sleep isn't on the menu for Quentin usually, he'll start to cope with his exhaustion in other ways; other ways that aren't healthy and can be left up to the imagination for now.

Some of the survivors that have been there the longest have learned to spot these signs from Quentin before he begins "coping". They'll immediately get up and take him for walks or bring him back to the fire and in front of 20+ other sets of eyes. Claudette, Ace, Meg, and Laurie are usually the nicest and manage to cheer him up faster than anyone else. Steve, in recent years, has also grown to notice and make sure his teammate is okay.

Have you ever seen the joke of someone getting hit in the head on a cartoon and they fall flat on their face, knocked out? Visualize that, and realize Quentin does that on a regular basis just without the hitting part. Like someone with narcolepsy, when Quentin’s brain and body are tired of being awake, he’s out like a light; heaven forbid he’s standing near anything sharp when this happens. From time to time, Quentin will just suddenly fold like a GMOD player hit their kill key. There’s no waking him up for a while after that. So far, it’s never happened in a trial; who knows why, Quentin is just grateful for that much.

When Quentin is tired and actually decides that he’d rather sleep then Collapse™, he will pass out just about anywhere. On the logs, in the bushes, up a tree (won’t do that anymore because he’s prone to falling out of said trees), on someone. Quentin has no shame when it comes to finding a place to rest his head for a minute and the others, for the most part, are fully understanding.

Sleepy Quentin can also be confused with what Drunk Quentin would look like, only in his movements, however. I’d compare it to those really yanking pulls that Boiled Over can do in-game that just send the killer 5 meters to the left. Yeah...Quentin will do that a lot when he’s really tired. It’s normal to see him firmly planted on the ground when he’s extra tired just so he doesn’t fall into something or someone. (He took out a game of Blackjack that Ace and Bill were playing and felt incredibly bad afterwards) If Quentin can help it, he won’t move when he’s on the very verge of passing out.

Not so much headcanons but two scenarios I’d like to imagine have happened to Quentin:

Quentin doesn’t sleep due to Freddy’s constant torment that he resumes every time the survivor falls asleep. But Quentin isn’t the only one Freddy torments. It’s been known that Freddy will hop from person to person if Quentin goes for too long without sleeping. However, the killer once made the mistake of pulling the same shit on the Legion which earned him a proper beating from the four teens afterwards. Because of this, the Legion made sure that the Nightmare can’t enter Ormond unless he’s in a trial.

(I have a personal headcanon that killers can ask the Entity to block a different killer from entering their realm if given proper reasoning, and that’s how I’d see the Legion being able to keep Freddy out of Ormond)

Quentin, by an odd string of occurrences, ends up at Ormond and gets to talking to the killers - since they’re in a good mood. One of them brings up how shitty Quentin looks and actually offers if he’d want to sleep there for a bit. Quentin, taken slightly off guard, shrugs the invitation off, explaining Freddy would just show up and start attacking him again. The Legion, ever so boastful, counters with their story and clue him in on the fact that the Nightmare can’t enter the realm outside of a trial. Quentin’s not buying it but the killers insist just to prove themselves right, eventually having to hold the boy at knife-point to get him to stay and sleep. After a three hour, uninterrupted nap, Quentin wakes up and realizes they were telling the truth.

Regardless, Quentin doesn’t trust the Legion. However, if he’s feeling exceptionally tired and has a few 100k bloodpoints lying around, Quentin will pay the Legion to let him sleep for a few hours, undisturbed. They’re happy to take his money and he’s happy to sleep off his exhaustion.

Still, Quentin does sleep at the fire on occasion; he does only because of the fact Freddy wants him. If Freddy can’t get to Quentin, he’ll start tormenting and hurting his friends. Since Quentin doesn’t want that, he keeps his trips to Ormond few and far between.

II.

There’s one killer Quentin never thought in his life he’d manage to “befriend” outside of trials. Slinger is a fat no; the man is still a hard-ass to everyone other than Zarina. The Yamaoka family keep to themselves and kill anything on sight. The original four are apathetic towards everyone. Michael, Freddy, Ghostface, Pinhead, Nemesis, Pyramidhead - all psychopathic monstrosities that earned their own circle in hell. I could go on.

No, of all the killers to actually show any sort of compassion (or just lack of hostility) towards Quentin was the Demogorgon.

It started during a horribly unfortunate trial on Azarov’s. Felix and Yun-Jin were long since dead, leaving only Quentin and Feng to do the last two generators. The thing was, Feng seemed to be trying her absolute hardest to screw Quentin over every time the killer got close. She ran in front of him while they were both running from the killer, she blocked pallets, blocked windows, if the killer got close she immediately hid behind anything large enough. Sure she apologized at the beginning of the trial, but those quickly trailed off. Quentin just wasn’t in the mood for it. So, when he went down for his third and final time due to Feng’s not-so-subtle body blocking, Demo surprised both of them by not picking up the boy immediately. Instead, the killer hunted down Feng (for all of 20 seconds) and threw her onto a hook immediately, not leaving her until she was dead and gone. Quentin had the foresight to bring Unbreakable before entering the trial, so, by the time Feng had reached second stage, he was up and running.

Even though hatch was visible before Feng died Quentin couldn’t find the damn thing to, literally, save his life. As he ran back into the territory where the killer was last, Quentin’s hope began to dwindle more and more as he heard and saw nothing. Demo, seeming to appear out of thin air, found him first and shred-tackled him into the dirt. On his back, Quentin thought he was going to be mori’d for sure, but then something...worse happened. The killer regurgitated Feng’s med kit onto his chest then stepped off and away from Quentin. Quentin didn’t know whether to thank the killer or puke himself. The amount of slime and saliva that drenched his clothing and neck had him pressing his mouth shut tight. What the hell is this killer doing? was the only thought in Quentin’s mind as he pealed the kit from his chest.

Quentin didn’t believe that Demo could sit on his haunches like a dog before that trial, but he does now.

The killer only watched as Quentin used the non-soaked medical supplies on himself until he was fully healed. Afterwards, the killer rose and started walking towards the killer shack. When Demo realized Quentin wasn’t following, it turned back, pathed behind the survivor, and herded him towards the decrepit building. Quentin had seen a lot when it came to weird shit, but this experience was quickly climbing the list. Rounding the far corner of the shack, Quentin found the hatch humming where it usually was. He turned and saw the Demogorgon, not trying to stop him but lying down like it was ready to take a nap.

Quentin pointed to the hatch with his free hand. “I can have that?” The killer, not understanding human speech, looked down at the hatch then back up to Quentin. The survivor figured that was good of an answer as any, thanked the killer with a shaky voice, and hopped into the backdoor exit.

Ever since that trial, Quentin has had this weird relationship with the Demogorgon. It’s fully based off the killer’s mood at the time, but for the most part, the pair seem to respect one another at the very least. Some trials, Demo will slaughter everyone mercilessly; others, the killer attacks everyone but Quentin. The survivor hasn’t found any rhyme or reason to the killer’s decision on how to treat him that day, but he’s grateful for the break when they come.

#Quentin Smith #The Legion #The Demogorgon #DbD hc #dbd #dead by daylight

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