#(and it's not stupid to like things or care about them a lot or criticize their creators in any way)

[mahoutoons]

i'm feeling controversial today so here's another hot take. and before you type away at your keyboards, know that this is all coming from a south asian.

white leftists have got to stop acting like christianity is the only religion that deserves to be criticized and you cannot touch any other religion because that'd be racist and bigoted. because as an indian who's watching my country progress towards hindu nationalism, this attitude doesn't help at all.

white people see hinduism as this exotic brown religion that's so much more progressive but don't know the violence of the caste system, how it others a large portion of the population on the basis of caste, literally branding them as "untouchables". they teach us in school that this problem is a thing of the past but the caste system is still alive and shows itself in violent ways. and that's not even covering how non hindus are treated in the country. muslims especially are being killed, have their houses bulldozed, businesses destroyed, and are being denied housing, our fucking prime minister called them infiltrators and there's this fear among hindu extremists that they'll outnumber the hindus in the country. portraying hinduism as this exotic religion does a disservice to all those oppressed by the hindutva ideology

similarly, white people see buddhism as this hippie religion that's all about peace but have no idea how extremist buddhists in myanmar have been persecuting the rohingya muslims for years and drive them out of the country.

if anything portraying these religions as exotic hippie brown religions is a type of orientalism itself.

and also y'all have got to realize that just because christianity has institutional power in america doesn't mean there aren't parts of the world where they are persecuted on the basis of religion. yes karen from florida who cries christophobia because she sees rainbow sprinkles on a cake is stupid but christian oppression DOES exist in non western countries where they're a minority. pakistani christians get lynched almost on a daily basis over blasphemy accusations. just look up the case of asia bibi, a pakistani christian woman who was sentenced to death on blasphemy charges because of something she said when she was being denied water because it was "forbidden" for a christian and a muslim to drink from the same utensil and she'd made it unclean just by touching it (which is ALSO rooted in casteism and part of pakistani christians' oppression also comes from the fact that a lot of them are dalit but that's a whole other discussion). and that's just one christian group, this isn't even going into what copts, assyrians, armenians etc have faced and continue to face. saying that christians everywhere are privileged because of american christianity actually harms christian minorites in non western countries.

and one last thing because this post is getting too long: someone being anti america doesn't automatically mean they're the good guys. too many times i've been seeing westerners on twitter dot com praise the fucking taliban just because they hate america. yes, the same taliban who banned education for women, thinks women should be imprisomed at home, and consistently oppresses religious and ethnic minorities in afghanistan. yes, america's war on afghanistan was bad and they SHOULD be called out for their war crimes there. no, the taliban are still not the good guys. BOTH of them are bad. you cannot pretend to care about muslims and brown people if you praise the taliban. because guess what? most of their victims are BROWN MUSLIM WOMEN. but of course white libs who praise them don't rub their two braincells together to make that conclusion.

this post has gotten too long and i've just been rambling so the point of this post is: white "leftists" whose politics are primarily america centric should stop acting like criticism of ideologies like hindutva, buddhist extremism, and islamic extremism BY people affected by these ideologies is the same as racism or religious intolerance because that helps literally no one except the extremist bigots. also america is not the centre of the world, just because something isn't happening in america doesn't mean it isn't happening elsewhere

[beyblade-champion-coolatta]

to be honest i think i just might not engage with this fandom anymore.

[scientia-rex]

I feel like disappointment in Biden is baffling to me because he was always a disappointment. He was the asshole who got to ride to power on the coattails of a better man. He told bizarre and repeated lies (despite getting caught at it and his team telling him not to) about having a Welsh coal miner dad when he did not and he stole that story from actual Welsh people. I read a profile of him years back that pointed this out and told the story of the time he straight up ignored good advice from an expert not to plant a certain kind of tree too close together and flew a bunch of them out to plant, at night because he was just too fucking excited about it, and they all died. He’s not a smart man! He’s charismatic ish and lacks principles and as far as I can tell doesn’t really care about abortion rights or a lot of things we’d consider pretty critical to preserving freedom. I sincerely thought he couldn’t become President because there were so many obviously better candidates in the pool. I underestimated the sexism and antisemitism in American politics, and when he became the candidate in 2020 I gritted my teeth and voted for him because the alternative was a man who is not only an idiot but also profoundly dangerous. Trump is not ha-ha crazy, he’s Mussolini crazy. He is not dangerous because he’s stupid, although that doesn’t help; he’s dangerous because he does not care about anyone except himself under any circumstances and if that means he lets the far right push us straight into forced birth for white women and sterilization for women of color he’s going to do that. If that means conversion therapy for queers and death penalty for homosexual acts he’s going to do that. He has literally no limits. If he gets back into power, a whole lot of people are going to die, again. It’s not a hypothetical because it happened the first time and he’s only going to get worse.

I am not, never have been, and never will be a fan of Biden. To pretend that he and Trump are in any way equivalent is wrong at best and another goddamn Russian psy-op at worst. To pretend that a third party candidacy is viable in the US is to completely ignore every election of your lifetime and your parents’ lifetimes, and to further ignore the lesson of Ross Perot.

You cannot save Palestinians by not voting for Biden in November; the best you can do is chip away at his margin, and the worst you can do is see Trump elected so he can decide to do the worst possible thing in ever circumstance. Biden has Palestinian blood on his hands and watching this when we could have had Bernie or Elizabeth Warren instead is maddening. (I would have preferred Hillary to Trump, but I don’t think she’d be any different than Biden here. They’re both old-school politicians.)

I hate everything about this, and I hate that saying “maybe don’t put the man who literally said he would kill his political enemies in power” is seen as supporting genocide. It’s acknowledging reality. Joe Biden as a person can eat rocks for all I care. I was kind of hoping he’d die sooner in his term so we’d have time to get used to and then vote for President Harris. (Remember when the line was “she’s a cop, don’t vote for her”? Funny how there’s always a reason not to vote for a woman or a person of color or someone you just “don’t like” and can’t put a finger on why except she “seems angry.” Oh does she. How would she not? When Michelle fucking Obama, the picture of grace , STILL got called angry for having the nerve to be a Black woman with an opinion? When Hillary Clinton lost to a man with no political experience to her decades and who openly discussed sexually assaulting women? Would you have voted for President Harris? Or would you let Trump win again because you don’t LIKE her personally and she’s made decisions and statements you disagree with?)

Biden has both less power than his critics give him credit for and more power than his fans give him credit for. He needs to do more to pressure Israel and although it’s a delicate diplomatic situation I’d rather see us fuck up our diplomatic relationship with Israel than watch more Palestinians get murdered for things like “wanting to eat” and “existing.” The line has been crossed, and he doesn’t see it. Because he wasn’t the best person for the job. Because they didn’t get elected, because of sexism/antisemitism/racism. Hell, I have no idea what bootlicker Pete Buttegieg would have done here, but I’d have given him a try. But no. We got Biden and we’re stuck with this reality where you can be as leftist as you want and still have to look at the situation and decide whether you’re comfortable contributing to a Trump victory through inaction. I want socialism—I want every single person on Earth to have clean drinking water, enough safe food, shelter, medical care, and education—and I’m going to vote for Biden, pissy as it makes me, because the only actual alternative is so, so much worse, for me personally as both a woman and a queer, and for everyone in America and the rest of the world who Trump would find reasons to hurt. What do you think the man who openly and repeatedly praises dictators is going to do when those dictators massacre their own people? Yes, we need to care about this genocide now. We also need to care about all of the other people who are at real risk, both at home and abroad. Would a Trump government agree to fund military intervention in Haiti without insisting on it being a colonial exercise in power? Would a Trump government roll back the restrictions on discriminating against transgender patients in healthcare? How would Trump respond if Orban started dragging people into the streets and shooting them en masse? How would Trump respond if China finally went for it and invaded Taiwan? There are more lives at stake here than mine or yours or even those of the Palestinians, who have deserved better for literally decades and are being mass killed in ways that should result in immediate sanctions, a war crimes trial, and the execution of Netanyahu.

The world deserves better from you than complicity in a Trump victory.

[communistkenobi]

I’ve been thinking a lot about fandom recently, both as someone who has engaged with it regularly for over a decade on various platforms and also as someone who has increasingly become disenchanted with those spaces. Not only because of pervasive issues of (especially anti-Black) racism, misogyny, transphobia/homophobia, and the like, but the particular way those things take shape within fandom.

At the most basic level I think fandom has a fundamental methodological problem with the way it approaches texts, be they shows, books, movies, etc. What I mean is that people almost invariably approach fandom at the level of character, often at the level of ship - your primary way of viewing a text is filtered through favourite characters and favourite relationships, as opposed to, say, favourite scenes, favourite themes, favourite conflicts.

This is reinforced through the architecture of dominant platforms that host fan content, particularly AO3 - there are separate categories for fandom, character and ship, and everything else is lumped together in “Additional Tags.” You cannot, for example, filter for fics on AO3 by the category of “critical perspective” or “thematic exploration”. There is no dedicated space for fan authors to declare their analytical perspective on the text they are writing about. If an author declares these things, they do so individually, they must go out of their way to do so, because there are no dedicated or universally agreed-upon tags to indicate those things, and if your fanfiction has a lot of tags, that announcement of criticality gets mushed together in a sea of other tags, sharing the same space with tags like “fluff and angst” or “porn without plot.” Perhaps one of the few tags closest to approaching this is the tag “Dead Dove: Do Not Eat,” which doesn’t indicate perspective or theme but rather that there is, broadly, some kind of “problematic content” contained therein - often of a sexual nature, frequently as a warning about “bad” ships.

Now this is not an inherent problem, as in, it is not inherently incorrect to approach a text and primarily derive pleasure from it by focusing on a given character or relationship. And I think a lot of mainstream media encourages (even requires) audiences to engage with their stories at these character- and ship-levels. The political economy of the production of art (one which is capitalistic, one that seeks to generate comfort, titillation, controversy, nostalgia, or shock for the purposes of drawing in viewership, one that increasingly pursues social media metrics of “engagement” and “impressions”, one that allows for the Netflix model of making two-season shows before cancelling them, as well as a whole host of other things) enforces a particular narrative orthodoxy, one that heavily focuses on the individual interiority of specific characters, one that is deeply concerned with the maintenance of white bourgeois middle class values of property ownership, the nuclear family, normative heterosexual sexuality and gender, settler-colonial ideas about community and environment, etc. If you do not care about the familial drama surrounding Shauna cheating on her husband in Yellowjackets, for example, because you think the institution of monogamous marriage and the nuclear family is stupid and violent and heternormative, then you will have a difficult time engaging with the show in general. We exist within a deeply normative (and frequently reactionary) media environment that encourages us to approach art in a particular way, one that privileges the individual over other narrative components (settings, themes, conflicts, ideas, political and moral perspectives, structure, tone, etc).

All of which culminates in priming fans to engage with art at these levels and these levels alone, even when that scope is deeply inappropriate. A standout example I recently encountered was browsing the fandom tags on tumblr for the movie Prey - a movie that recontextualises the original Predator film by setting it in colonial America to make the argument that the horrific violence of white colonists and imperial soldiers is identical to the violence we see the Predator do to human beings. It is a movie that makes the argument that, despite this alien monster running around killing people, the villains of the franchise are these occupying soldiers and settlers, an alien force who themselves have just as little regard for (indigenous) human life.

And when browsing the tags on tumblr, what I found was dozens upon dozens of horny posts about how hot the predator monster was. Certainly there were discussion of the film’s narrative, and these posts got a good amount of notes, but the tags were heavily dominated with a focus on the Predator itself. People were engaging with this film not as a solid action movie with interesting and compelling anti-colonial themes, but as a way to be horny about a creature that is, ironically, a stand-in for white settler indifference to (and perpetuation of) indigenous suffering. And if this is your takeaway from an extremely straightforward film with a very clear message, this is not merely a failure to comprehend the content of a text, this is something beyond it - a problem that I think is due in part to the methodological problem of approaching all texts as vessels for bourgeois interiority, individual but ultimately interchangeable expressions of sexuality, perhaps best-expressed by the term “roving slash fandom,” a phenomenon wherein fans will move from one fandom to the next in search of two (usually white, usually skinny) guys to draw and write porn of, uncaring of any of the surrounding context of the stories they are embedded in, and consequently dominating a large sector of fandom discussion.

This even gets expressed in the primary ideological battleground of fandom itself, the ridiculous partitioning of all fan conflict into “pro-“ and “anti-“ shipping compartments. Your stance on engagement with fandom itself historically was (and still is) always first filtered through one of these two labels, describing your fundamental perspective on all texts you engage with. And both of these two labels are only concerned with shipping, as if all disagreements about art can only be interpreted through the lens of what characters you think are acceptable to draw or write having sex. Nowhere in this binary is space to describe any other perspective you might take, what approaches you think are valuable when interacting with art, what themes or stories you think are worth exploring. It’s not just that the pro/anti divide is juvenile and overly-simplistic, it is a declaration that all fan conflict must be read through the lens of shipping and shipping only - the implication being that any objections raised, and criticisms offered, is ultimately just bitching about ships you don’t like.

Which, again, I think is a fundamental error of methodology. It leaves no space for people to discuss the political and moral content of a work, the themes of a piece of art, the thorny issues of representation not just as expressed through individual characters but entire worlds, narratives, settings, and themes. You are always hopelessly stuck in the quagmire of “shipping discourse,” and even rejecting that framework will inevitably get you labelled as either pro- or anti-ship anyway - and you will almost invariably be labelled an “anti” if you express any kind of distaste for the bigoted behaviour of fans or the content of the text itself, again reinforcing the idea that this is all just pointless whining online about icky ships you personally hate.

And this issue is best perhaps epitomised by reader insert fanfiction, circumventing any need for you to project onto a character by literally inserting yourself into fiction, primarily in order to write/read about a character you want to fuck. This then intersects in particularly disgusting ways with real world politics, such as reader insert fics about Pedro Pascal going with you to BLM protests. Even if this is (incredibly over-generously) interpreted as a very poor attempt at being “progressive,” it still demonstrates that many (white) fans are often incapable of thinking about anything outside of a character-centric perspective, quite literally centring themselves in the process, and consequently they think it’s totally appropriate to do things like that. The fact that this is also frequently a racist lens is not coincidental, because again, a chronic focus on (fictional) individuality prohibits any structural perspective from entering the discussion, which necessarily excludes a coherent or useful perspective on systemic issues, where people come to the conclusion that the topic of police brutality is little more than a fun stage to enact whatever romantic shenanigans you want to get up to with a hot guy.

I will stress, again, that it is not a moral sin to have a favourite character, nor is it bad to enjoy reading about two guys having sex in fanfiction. I enjoy and do those things, I engage with fandom often through a character-centric lens (see my url) - because it’s fun! But I think that this being the dominant mode of engagement inherently excludes and marginalises all other approaches, and creates a fandom space where the most valuable way to talk about media is to discuss which two characters you most enjoy imagining fucking each other

[bo0tleg]

One thing I like about Top Gun (1986) is how believable the development with Ice and Mav's dynamic is.

I've seen a lot of the "Rivals suddenly become buddies after traumatic event together" in media, but I don't think I've seen it done better than in Top Gun. Mostly, I attribute it to how much build up it has.

Most of the time, the 'Rivals' hate each others guts throughout the entire movie/series and then they go through an extremely traumatic event that binds them for life and shifts their entire concept of each other. Ice and Mav never once changed how they saw each other, it just changed their understanding of it.

Ice saw Maverick as dangerous and Mav saw Iceman as stuck-up and commanding. And they weren't wrong, by any means.

From the beginning, they have tension between them because of how different they are. And it ends up in the audience seeing Ice as the 'Antagonist' because that's how Mav sees it, and we're seeing it from his perspective as the protagonist. But Ice was never inherently wrong, in fact he was right.

Other than his first scene, Iceman always has a point in what he's saying. He's criticizing Mav, not insulting him. Sure, he does it in a brash way because masculinity, but he's not trying to insult him, he's trying to knock him down a peg and wake him up to reality. All Ice wants is that he starts to act as a team player, start caring about everybody's safety AND his own, rather than being reckless for the sake of being reckless. But Mav sees it as an insult because he can't process criticism in a healthy way (due to how he grew up). The same thing happened with Charlie, for the record.

And so the strife between the two begins. What I like about it is how it bleeds out of them over time, becoming more settled as the movie goes on. In the locker room "You're dangerous" scene, the tension is palpable. It's obvious they're agitated by each other, and feel the need to prove they're the correct one.

If you pay attention, this whole... demand for superiority goes away as time progresses. They're fine with each other's presence, it's not like they're constantly at each others throat all the time. In the shower scene, Ice dropped all of the aggression and competitiveness from his tone and is instead just laying out what he thinks. He's not undermining Maverick, he's not lecturing him like a child. Iceman is just telling Maverick exactly how he sees the situation in hopes that it would make him realize what the fuck he's doing, but with little hope that it'll actually work.

That doesn't mean Ice is always correct either, he doesn't understand why Mav acts the way he does, thus fails to take into consideration the emotional trauma behind it. Which only causes even more strife.

The entire time, Iceman isn't being a dick for the sake of it, he just wants Mav to stop being stupid (by his standards). And Maverick doesn't understand it because all he gets from what Ice says is insults.

Maverick isn't good at understanding what people mean to say if it's implied, you need to say it to his face. This is the reason he stayed quiet in the shower scene, because Ice finally laid everything out in simple words that he can understand without making it sound like a dick-measuring contest.

Thing is, the tension mellows out. At the beginning, you could see the tension and cut it with a knife. By the middle you can see them getting used to each other without jumping to constantly trade jabs (namely: the volleyball scene, it's just a bunch of guys being dudes, and the scene where Charlie says that Mav flew recklessly in front of the whole class, Ice doesn't comment on it in any way). Over time, they've settled down into their tension without needing to address it all the time.

Then Goose dies.

And the tension between them is still there.

Just because Goose isn't there anymore, doesn't mean their whole dynamic vanishes all of a sudden. You can see their hesitation towards each other (especially Ice), and that's great! It demonstrates that Goose dying doesn't magically resolve their problems with each other in solidarity.

Ice tried to give his consolations to Mav, and is awfully awkward about it. You can see on his face that he wants to say more, but doesn't because he knows it's not his place given their history. And not much is said, but a lot it communicated. (Val Kilmer is a killer actor for this, OH MY FUCKING GOD BLESS THAT MAN)

Even in the graduation scene you can see how out of their depts they really are with each other. A stilted congratulations, that was it. But they're trying, and that's what matters.

A scene I think gets overlooked a lot is the scene right before the Layton, where Ice expressed his worries about Mav to Stinger, and Mav heard him. Because I feel like that was a shift that was more drastic than the Layton itself for them.

What Ice was doing in that scene wasn't doubting Maverick's flying abilities, it was his mental health. Sure, he passed the psych eval, but that means next to jack shit when in a real combat situation so close after his backseater dying. And Ice might be worried that he's gonna be left hanging, but with the way he was speaking I'm more inclined to believe he was more worried about Maverick's wellbeing than himself. Ice almost looked resigned. He knew it was gonna get dismissed because that's the military for you, but he still wanted to try to vouch for Mav to stay groundside, if only to keep his mind at bay.

But Maverick heard him, and as usual, he read it as an insult. He wasn't wrong to assume Ice didn't believe him capable of flying the mission, which wouldn't be a lie, but failed to realize that he had more than one reason to want Maverick on the ground rather than in the air. And for the first time, Maverick believes him.

Up until this point, Mav dismissed all of Ice's so called 'insults' because he was certain in and of himself. But now he isn't anymore.

And it affects his performance in the air. I'm not saying he was as shitty as he was at the start of that combat because of what he overheard, but I am saying that it certainly didn't help matters in the slightest.

So their weird 'stepping-on-eggshells' situation is all over the place by that point. Because they started to care about each other despite not being what one would call proper friends yet. It's establishing a potential friendship by implying that 1. Ice cares about Mav's wellbeing and 2. Mav cares about what Ice thinks.

On the ground, they have the wingman exchange, and their suddenly buddy buddy. Thing is, it wasn't sudden at all.

They've been setting this up the entire fucking movie.

Going back to what I said at the beginning: Ice thinks Mav is dangerous and Mav thinks Ice is stuck-up and controlling. After the Layton, they still think those things because they weren't wrong to begin with. What changed was that instead of seeing it as something that pitted them against each other, it was seen as something that simply was about the other, and that there was no changing it. It could be good.

Mav being dangerous could be good and Ice being stuck-up and controlling could be good, because those were just traits of who they were. By the end of the movie they didn't change how they saw each other, just how they interpreted each other.

And it was built up during the entire fucking movie.

There was a reason to why they acted the way they did with each other because of the stilted interpretation they had of each other. From rivalry to friendship (and perhaps more later down the line), it's glaringly obvious throughout that it wasn't a sudden shift, it was exponential.

That's why I think it was so well developed, because you could see it coming.

[ham1lton]

HE SAYS TO BE COOL (I DON’T KNOW HOW YET)

pairings: jenson button x maneater!reader.

warnings: large age gap - around twenty years. a lot of judgement and criticism as there is scrutiny of your relationship.

summary: after a party at a mutual friend’s, you and jenson are photographed leaving together. the large age gap causes concern especially after your admission that you had a crush on him as a young driver.

author’s note: so this is NOT a part of the main maneater storyline. this is just a what if scenario. just something indulgent for the maneaters out there who go for dilfs! last time i checked the friendship group poll, it was practically 50/50 so until that’s decided, there is a big group of all them. also as per usual, there is a poll at the end so please vote <3

— a part of the maneater series ꕤ

liked by messybitch1, landonorris and 1,728,838 others.

ham1ltonshaderoom: after the release of lewis hamilton’s newest almave drink, formula one driver y/n l/n, better known as maneater, was seen outside of the event looking quite cozy with former formula one driver and forty-four year old jenson button. how are we feeling about this new power couple, ham1ltons?

user1: poor lewis. his drink release has been completely overshadowed by this news 😭

user3: age gap couples never last long lol. good luck but he’ll move on to the next twenty something as soon as she shows one sign of aging.

user34: SHUT UP HES SO FINE 😭 i’d do the same as you y/n girl.

-> user51: LIKE 😭😭😭 bffr. most of the ppl here would fold for their older celeb crush.

user7: idk who’s benefiting more from this relationship? but it’s definitely not love.

user9: Y/N!!!! I’LL SAVE YOU!!!

user2: not jenson going through his mid-life crisis post-divorce. girl u can do better.

user8: maneater… pls say this is a publicity stunt.

-> user73: no cause this genuinely might be her ticking off her childhood crush list. which is real but idk if it’s good for her?

user6: is she fucking all the aging drivers? or is jenson the only one stupid enough to say yes?

user25: i support it. i met my husband when i was 21 and he was 37 and we have been together almost twenty years this may. not all age gap relationships are inherently bad.

-> user4: you’re a victim 😕

user12: y’all are gross. any of us would jump at a chance to date our celeb crush. jenson is hot and y/n is a consenting adult. she’s not a child anymore. she didn’t even know him as a child. bffr.

————————————————————————

liked by bestie2, georgerussell63 and 3,828,782 others.

yourusername: what do you do when you haven’t seen your besties for ages? do a photoshoot in the middle of the street. how did you spend your weekend?

bestie1: we look so good!!! it was soo good to catch up babe. we missed u!!!

-> bestie2: we’ve all been so busy it’s insane how we’ve not been able to see each other more. i was going insane without my girls!!!

user1: is she not even gonna address it?!

-> user6: big ass elephant in the room.

user4: we knew how you spent your weekend ms l/n.

landonorris: am i not your bestie? why wasn’t i included?

-> georgerussell63: or me?!

-> alex_albon: or me? 🤨

-> logansargeant: or me?? 😕

-> oscarpiastri: i get why i wasn’t included tbf.

user10: u think posting pretty girls will make us forget ur weekend escapades? … maybe. keep posting.

user2: can you guys not make everything about a man? who cares if she’s dating jenson? what does that have to do with her ability to do her job or advocate for causes?! i feel sorry for her because you guys clearly dislike her for stupid reasons and are twisting this into a way to jump her ‘ethically’ which doesn’t even make sense. the only problematic thing she’s done is date a man older than her. grow up, my god.

*liked by landonorris, bestie1, bestie2, georgerussell63, oscarpiastri, alex_albon, logansargeant and 45,728 others. *

————————————————————————

————————————————————————

liked by charles_leclerc, bestie1 and 1,092,728 others.

yourusername: italy, i love you ♥︎

user3: get you a man that flies u out whenever ur sad.

-> user7: why are we not assuming she flew HIM out?

-> bestie2: he definitely flew her out. lmao.

user89: feels like a disaster waiting to happen lol.

-> logansargeant: not every relationship is like your parents. get therapy instead of projecting onto strangers.

user6: still a whore. i can’t stand this bitch.

-> oscarpiastri: stay mad! she’s young, successful and has many people who love and support her while you’re cursed to just scroll through her posts and seethe in your head. this one sided beef is crazy 🤣🤣!

user9: they’re cute!! idk how i’m the only one who thinks this.

user67: she’s still ugly.

-> alex_albon: looked at your pictures mate and cheers, my nan just vomited.

user12: when he leaves her >>>>

-> georgerussell63: 6.220.183.12

-> user3: NOT THE IP ADDRESS HELP?2&/&

user8: jenson. call me when you need a real woman.

-> bestie1: where is the real woman you speak of? she’s definitely NOT you.

user21: honestly? i just can’t get on board with this ship.

-> landonorris: you can’t even afford a ticket 🤣 delete this.

user10: i’m not saying shit cause why the y/n defense squad dragging people in the comments 😭

liked by oscar.priv, alex.priv and 21 others.

maneater.priv: NEED HIM CARNALLY <3

bestie1priv: thank god he doesn’t know about ur priv account. i think he’d combust.

-> maneater.priv: nah he giggles. he thinks its funny.

oscar.priv: everyone on a campaign to save you from jenson when they should be saving jenson from YOU!

bestie2priv: LOVE U BOTH <333 cutest couple!

lando.priv: dare you to post this on ur main 😏🤣😁😝

-> george.priv: 43.0.109.12

-> lando.priv: MAN COME ON 😭

don’t want to miss out on my next post? join my taglist! if you enjoyed this, check out my masterlist or buy me a coffee! no pressure ! <3

[depravitycentral]

Yandere! Illumi Zoldyck General Profile

Yandere! Illumi Zoldyck x fem! reader

Tw: kidnapping, stalking, non-con, breaking and entering, slight somnophilia, misogynistic undertones, traditional gender roles, mentions of forced breeding/forced motherhood, murder, violence, lots of descriptions of killing methodologies, slight mentions of self induced wounds, fem reader, MDNI

I do not condone any of the actions described in this post - this is fiction and should be treated as such. If you or a loved one is in a similar situation to anything contained in this post or my blog in general, please seek help. You're in charge of your internet consumption; please make responsible choices. With that, enjoy!

WC: 11K

DARLING PROFILE:

Gentle

It takes Illumi a long time to develop feelings for his darling for a multitude of reasons.

Emotional unavailability, high expectations, and disinterest, just to name a few, and while he isn’t actively searching for a partner, there are a few base requirements he knows his future partner must meet.

Strong, intelligent, hard working, everything desirable that he knows both he and his family would approve of.

But once he meets his darling, his interest slightly peaked in them, that list begins changing slightly.

Because while the feelings are slow to solidify, Illumi notices quickly that his darling is so, so painfully averse to being harsh.

They’re not confrontational, treat others with a level of attentiveness and care that initially makes him scoff, and he doesn’t think he’s once seem them ever lose control of themselves and explode.

It’s uncanny, unnatural, as far as Illumi is concerned, and yet it’s fascinating. He slowly grows to admire this trait in his darling, how they can be so unconditionally soft with everything and everyone around them, eventually finding himself more and more attracted to them with every kind deed they do. It makes them weak, easy to manipulate, easy to kill, but Illumi finds it oddly endearing.

He’s always firmly believed that mothers should be nurturing to their children, to help them grow and shape them into the best versions of themselves possible, and while they’re opposite to his mother in many ways, maybe that gentility they possess is a the perfect thing needed.

Once he’s decided that his darling is his future wife, he’s immediately moving to experience this kindness for himself.

He comes back from missions with a little more blood and bruising than was necessary, but the way his darling gasps and quickly grabs the medical kit makes Illumi blink in wide fascination, unsure what drives them to eagerly spring into action but more than ready to feel their soft touch.

(They don’t need to know that Illumi allowed the target to get a few more hits in than necessary, just to keep them fawning over him as long as possible, or that he had to refuse ten different medical personnel in the mansion before making it to their shared ‘bedroom’.)

He likes the juxtaposition between his darling and him, and while it occasionally irritates him that they’re so soft and weak, it’s more endearing than anything else – just don’t be soft with anyone else but him, yes?

Smart

Illumi may be morally misguided, but the man is intelligent. He knows more about the human body than many doctors, and is skilled beyond belief in the art of combat and stealth.

He understands the best ways to go about gathering intel on a target without being traced or caught, and is able to apply that knowledge to set up traps correlating to his employers’ requests.

And this is a trait he’s simply unwilling to compromise when it comes to a partner – they must be able to keep up with him mentally.

They don’t need to have the same kind of intelligence as him, but the ability to critically think and quickly understand is a necessity. Illumi has very little patience for stupidity, and the thought of spending time with someone who doesn’t understand most of what he says is irritating.

And so, once his feelings for his darling begin appearing, Illumi is putting them through a small series of tests to make sure they live up to his expectations. It’s nothing too intense, nothing he wouldn’t be able to do himself.

He’s leaving extra clues that he’s been in his darling’s apartment – clumsy signs that he’d never normally leave, in the hopes that they’ll realize they’ve had an unwanted guest.

Cabinets are left ajar, their bed slightly unmade, though the thing that really clues them in is the presence of long, dark locks of hair around their apartment that they know aren’t theirs.

They’d never leave hair on the kitchen table; they’d see it and remove it, mildly disgusted. And yet, here three locks lay, making them a bit paranoid as they call the police.

Illumi intercepts the call, making sure it never rings through, but he’s still proud of his darling, satisfaction pooling in his chest because he just knew they’d pick up on it.

He likes knowing his darling is competent, and that their future children will be so too – the next Zoldyck heirs can’t be clueless, after all.

Generous

In general, Illumi isn’t particularly selfish with those he holds dear.

With the exception of Killua, Illumi has always willingly done as he’s been told.

He’s never demanded much from his parents, never insisting on material goods. He’s never felt cheated out of anything, either – his parents have molded him into the perfect assassin, and he couldn’t be more grateful for the rigor and training he received as a child.

And yet, once his darling enters his life, Illumi finds himself feeling strangely overwhelmed. They always seem to be giving things away – their time, bits of food they’ve cooked, their love, other things material and not alike.

It confuses Illumi; it makes him wonder why they’re wasting their resources on people they don’t know well, on those who likely wouldn’t reciprocate.

It’s a mystery, and frankly he finds his darling to be foolish for it – until one day it’s focused at him.

Illumi can’t comprehend why his darling is willingly giving away a bit of their time when they encounters him – in another body – disguised as a homeless man begging for change.

There’s a pitied look in their eye as they hand him the bills – two dollars, just what they had in change and could afford to give away – and tells him there’s a gas station nearby with cheap snacks he can eat.

Illumi just stares at them, not understanding why they’re helping, and soon he’s asking just that.

They startle and awkwardly laugh, telling him it’s because they don’t like seeing others in need, and they were only planning on spending that money to buy junk foods for themselves, anyways.

Illumi blinks, but his darling is soon speed walking away, the interaction feeling strange and uncomfortable.

Illumi still doesn’t understand, but it becomes another one of the facets of his darling that he simply learns to enjoy.

He yearns to understand what compels them to put others before themselves (something that yet again irritates him a bit), but he finds that the more he interacts with them, the more he enjoys being the recipient of it.

He’s finally receiving a bit of love and support that isn’t forced from his parents, and he quickly grows addicted.

Enjoys children 

The reality of the situation is that as Illumi’s darling, they will be forced to interact with children whether they want to or not.

Namely, their own.

Having a family with him is not optional, and Illumi will never present it as such – once he decides his darling is to be his partner, they automatically become his future wife, the future mother of his children.

He cannot be swayed, regardless of what his darling wants.

However, while it’s still possible for him to grow obsessed with a darling who isn’t especially fond of kids, it’s much more likely that he grows attracted to the ease with which they’re able to communicate with them.

He likes the way they get so happy when a child walks up to them, how they’re immediately squatting down and smiling, playing hide and seek with their own face as the child giggles and beams.

He never knew that sort of innocent and sweet interaction when he himself was a child, but he doesn’t view it as a bad thing if his darling is able to make a child happy.

It’ll only benefit them as parents – it’ll help strengthen the bond, and make their children more malleable and receptive to their guidance.

Besides, there’s something about seeing his darling next to a baby that makes his skin feel hot, eyes blowing wide and his trousers tightening.

The image just looks so right, so natural and perfect that Illumi has to hold himself back from bending them over and fucking them right then and there.

Talent with children is an incredibly attractive trait for Illumi, and likely it's the final nail in the coffin that seals his obsession with his darling – one giggling toddler is all that’s needed to seal their fate.

GENERAL YANDERE TRAITS:

Stalker

More than anything, stalking you is the only method of ‘interaction’ with you that Illumi feels truly comfortable with.

He knows how to stay invisible; tracking others is easy, as is staying in the shadows and keeping that wide, unnaturally glassy stare on them. He’s used to watching but not being seen, and it’s only natural to extend this towards you. It feels right to be watching you, like he’s where he’s meant to be, and for the beginning of his obsession he spends every free moment stalking you, hiding in corners or shadows and just staring.

 (And really, this behavior lasts all throughout his infatuation, even when he’s got you trapped in the Zoldyck manor, even when you’re nursing his baby, even when you’ve both grown old and death approaches – it’s just that in the beginning, you’re not aware of the black eyes that follow your every move. And that’s a luxury that gets taken all too soon, as you find yourself longing for ignorance of Illumi in every possible way.)

Not to mention, there is no part of him that feels any guilt for it – he’s a cold-blooded assassin, of course, but at no point does it occur to him that it may be strange to be following you, or that you wouldn’t appreciate him watching over you (and watching you, generally).

He doesn’t understand that he shouldn’t approach you like he approaches a target – of course, you won’t be on the receiving end of his needles (at least, not with death his ultimate goal – perhaps something less lethal, like love or submission or lust), but otherwise his intentions are the same.

(Well, mostly – not really, actually, because Illumi doesn’t feel this strange, pleasant warmth in his chest when he’s watching his targets, nor does he feel particularly intrigued when he’s staring at them as they sleep, watching their chest rise and fall and the relaxed, utterly content expression on their face.)

The process of stalking you is remarkably similar to his jobs – first, he’ll choose a place within your home that gives him a good, solid vantage point with minimal risk that he’ll be noticed.

(Though, it’s not exactly hard to hide when you’re so damn oblivious – Illumi swears you have little to no awareness of your surroundings, if the way you sometimes knock into tables or trip over shoes in your doorway is anything to go by.)

His stand-by places are usually in a rarely used storage closet with the door cracked open, just wide enough for his dark eyes to peer through, or perhaps behind a chair you rarely use, crouched and peeking behind the cloth, and when you sit down in said chair, it gives Illumi the opportunity to stand up slightly, towering over you and getting a perfect view of your pretty body and smelling your hair.

But if it’s nighttime and you’re already snuggled up in your bed, eyes glued to your phone screen as you scroll and scroll and neglect your sleep, he'll stand silently and deathly still in the corner.

He’s able to stay perfectly still and maintain the same position for hours at a time, hardly blinking, hardly moving, hardly even breathing, it seems.

And he’s utilizing this skill set to its full potential when it comes to you – Illumi is greedy, and while this doesn’t initially get channeled into being overly possessive of you (though that certainly comes later), it instead translates into this insatiable need to constantly have his eyes on you and to be in your presence every moment he isn’t needed on a job.

There are no boundaries with him, because Illumi genuinely doesn’t see the need to have them. You’re already destined to spend your lives together, so why shouldn’t he start the process of learning more about you?

Autonomy doesn’t really exist with him – he could be considered clingy if his view of your lives being so irreversibly intertwined wasn’t as clinical and matter of fact.

And so Illumi doesn’t operate barred by any sort of moral guidelines – so when he’s using his needles to morph into another face so that he can practice the lines and compliments he’s been told by his mother that will make you swoon, it doesn’t register to him that it might be creepy that he’s practicing wooing you in another body.

(The man is disturbing, and you’re uncomfortable with the way this stranger doesn’t seem to be getting the hint that you want him to leave you alone; why is he standing so close to you? Why is he staring at you like that? Why is he following you?)

It doesn’t register to him that it’s a breach of trust to be pretending to be someone you love and trust, just to extract more information about you.

(Your cousin is acting strangely when they speak to you – their words are clipped and sound just slightly off, and you’re sure they already know what your dreams for the future are. You’ve talked about this with them before, so why are they questioning you on what your ideal house looks like, your ideal partner, your favorite baby names?)

He spends a lot of time observing you, collecting information on you in every way he can, and this doesn’t stop once you’re trapped by his side and with the rest of his crazy, horrible family – it’s a habit, more than anything, but it’s so much worse when you’re aware, when you can see and feel his dark eyes boring into you, making you squirm under the intensity of his gaze.

Of course, talking to him about it won’t do a single thing – only earning you a slight head tilt and a question of does it bother you when I watch you? I apologize, I only meant to keep an eye on you, my dear.

He genuinely doesn’t understand that stalking you and keeping a tab on you at all times is something that you very much don’t appreciate, but you’ll quickly come to learn that with Illumi, there’s only so much you can change – so much being quite literally nothing.

Controlling

This particular manifestation of his obsession with you is a culmination of many different things.

Firstly, it’s simply his personality – when he loves, he possesses, this ugly, carnal feeling stirring in his gut that pushes him to be in control, to guide and oversee every little thing the target of his love does. He’s always felt this way with Killua – he loves his brother immensely, but that love translates as being controlling and always keeping a finger on what Killua does, says, and feels.

Secondly, it’s the intense pressure coming from his family. Kikyo expects your total obedience both to her and her son, and while Illumi can sometimes stand up to his mother on matters where your safety and wellbeing are concerned, he can’t deny her expectations of you being absolutely subservient to him, bending to his every whim and allowing him to dictate every aspect of your life.

And finally, it’s his own paranoia that pushes him to micromanage you in every way possible. He’s never had someone to call his before – he’s unselfish in nature, dedicating himself to his family in every possible way, and now that he’s been given a woman to call his own, to spoil and love and keep by his side, he’s not entirely sure how to react.

Your presence soothes him in a way he’s never experienced before; you’re so soft and caring and warm, all things he’s never had. His life has been hardships and tough love, training and never being good enough, and now that you’re in the picture, Illumi isn’t entirely sure how to handle himself.

He doesn’t doubt himself, per se, but he’s unsure how to successfully navigate a marriage. Would you like it if he was more physical with you? Perhaps you’d like more hugs or for him to hold your hand or kiss you more often – that’s what all the popular media resources he’s looked into have told him.

Or maybe you’d prefer a more quiet, subtle kind of love, where you both support one another with meaningful looks and the occasional touch, whispered words that carry more weight than they seem.

He’s not sure, despite all the stalking and information retrieving he’s preformed in your name, and that makes him nervous. He doesn’t like that he can’t anticipate what you’ll want or how to make you happy – it makes him feel less-than, as if he’s not quite the perfect match that his mother and father have always said his wife will be.

He doesn’t like not being sure of himself, and so this worry manifests itself as becoming firmer in his treatment of you, locking down on the few things he’s absolutely sure of.

It comes off as controlling, sure, but Illumi doesn’t mean to be when he’s telling you what to wear, rifling through the closet he procured for you and pulling out a dress he thinks suits your complexion – you may hate it, but he likes it, so you’ll wear it.

He’s not trying to be controlling when he’s clicking his tongue lightly and telling you to keep your posture straight, dear every time you sit down, even if your shoulders are only barely, slightly slumped.

He’s not trying to be controlling when he’s standing over the bathtub and watching you wash yourself, telling you to use more soap, darling, don’t you want to be clean?

(Nevermind his dark eyes blinking slowly and getting stuck on the soapy outline of your breasts under the warm water – surely you’re just imagining that, along with the tent forming in his trousers.)

He’s not trying to be controlling when he’s roughly grabbing your hand and forcing you behind him when you’re walking through the hallways of the manor, his gaze narrowing at the butler standing at attention, paranoia eating away at him because he could have sworn the man was staring at you as you entered the room, and he can’t have that. Even as an employee of the family, no one but Illumi can look at you with any degree of desire – you are his, and if it means cleaning up a body and finding a new butler to replace him, Illumi will do what is needed to keep you his.

IIlumi is quite frankly totally unaware of his controlling behavior – he doesn’t realize anything is wrong because in his eyes nothing is wrong. This is love – it’s how his father always treated his mother when he was young, his eyes cold and his heart even colder, his words cutting her down and remolding her into a woman more fitting of being the matriarch of the Zoldycks.

And while he doesn’t want to break you down or remake you, he’s following his father’s example in making sure that you’re entirely accounted for. You’re his responsibility, and while he doesn’t view you as merely a pet, you’ll often feel like a glorified dog with the way he controls your life down to every second, always telling you that it’s time to go eat, or time to sleep, or time to shower, or time to kiss him and let him undress you.

He's pushy without even meaning to be, but if you bring this behavior up to him, he’ll be surprised. Genuinely – his brows will quirk up ever so slightly, his already wide eyes getting a hair wider because really? I had no idea, my dear. Thank you for bringing this to my attention; I will reduce the frequency on my instructions towards you.

But he doesn’t, even if he promises he will.

And it’s not entirely his fault – he thinks he is, even going so far as to be expectant of your praise when he holds himself back from telling you to use the other fork when he’s dining with you privately. Surely you must be proud of him – he’s doing as you asked, being a good husband and fulfilling your desires and wishes.

So why aren’t you praising him?

Why aren’t you mentioning anything about how generous he’s being, how considerate he is?

You’ve blatantly disregarded his attempts at trying to be less ‘controlling’, as you claim, and Illumi takes this as a sign to only double down and become more omnipresent, because obviously you haven’t quite learned how to be a kind, grateful, adoring wife.

You haven’t quite yet learned the lessons he’s been trying to teach you – so you need more guidance. You need more advice, a firmer hand to push you towards becoming the best, most noble version of yourself, and lucky, lucky you has a loving, oh so eager husband right there willing to step into that role.

He’s domineering and in control of every aspect of your life, but there’s almost a small sense of relief that you’ll eventually feel. Because really, while it makes you feel weak and pathetic and pitiful to have him controlling how long you brush your teeth every morning and night, isn’t there something kind of nice about relinquishing your responsibilities? Isn’t there something oddly nice about not having to make your own decisions, to let Illumi take care of everything, to not have to worry about anything ever again?

It's the Stockholm Syndrome talking, and you may even know it – but it doesn’t matter, because the longer you spend under Illumi’s thumb, the less you’ll find yourself caring about things like choice and autonomy and preference. All that matter is what he wants, what he thinks is best – because really, doesn’t he know best?

Isn’t he superior to you in every possible way?

Protective

Illumi has a very, very good understanding of the human body.

He has to – his job depends on it, after all, and Illumi is nothing if not dedicated to his work. He knows every muscle, vein, and bone, their purpose and exactly what it would mean if it was removed.

He knows what organs must stay in tact for survival, how much blood a person can lose and stay conscious, how cold temperature can drop before hypothermia begins, even how long a person can survive without sleeping.

And it’s this wide breadth of knowledge that leads Illumi to know just how pathetically weak you are.

There are so many possible ways to hurt you – everything from a gunshot to a paper cut could potentially end your tragically fragile life, and the longer Illumi watches you, the more uncomfortable this knowledge becomes.

It’s not that you’re objectively incapable of defending yourself – perhaps you know some basic self-defense, or perhaps your survival instincts are sharp enough to keep you away from dangerous situations. No – it’s more that Illumi knows what other people are capable of, what nen is capable of, and he knows that you’d simply be no match if someone were to attack you.

And so, this puts him into a rather uncomfortable spot; at the beginning of his obsession with you, when his feels were still freshly formed and underdeveloped, he felt no sense of protectiveness over you. You’re an adult, you can care for yourself – you’ve survived this long, haven’t you?

But then he starts noticing how wide your smile can get, or how soft your hand is when you’re sleeping, or how pretty your voice sounds when you’re singing in your kitchen and making yourself dinner.

He starts noticing that you’ve been biting your lip, the skin a little puffy and swollen and stinging a bit. Did you know that your lip could get infected, and if you don’t get to a doctor fast enough, that infection could cost you your life?

He starts noticing that the skin of your hands is a little dry, and you keep getting hangnails. Did you know that dry skin can be a sign of serious nutrition deficiencies, and if you don’t enough potassium you could end up in the hospital and slowly waste away until you eventually can no longer hold on?

He starts noticing that sometimes your voice gets a little hoarse after you try to sing a particularly high note, your voice cracking and a series of coughs racking your body. Did you know that if you cough too hard, you can actually strain your lungs and affect their ability to take in oxygen, potentially suffocating you?

Time passing brings him to the realization that the idea of you dying makes him frown, something unpleasant brewing in his chest that he guesses is sadness. He doesn’t like the idea of you passing away – he wants you alive, and if you were to die, he wouldn’t be able to watch you anymore, to feel that warm, addicting feeling in his heart you give him. If you were to suddenly keel over and die, he’d be left all alone – like normal, yes, but now that he knows what it's like to have someone, to want someone, Illumi doesn’t think he could return to his old existence.

And so, the solution is simple: keep you alive.

Except, it’s much harder to keep someone living and breathing than it is to simply kill them, and quickly Illumi is realizing just how tall an order this is. Because really, there’s just so much that could potentially injure you, that could potentially lead to your life being in danger.

You’re just so damn clumsy – he’s watched you trip over air, and if you’re that naturally unaware of your surroundings, who’s to say you wouldn’t be susceptible to even the most minor injuries? How can he be sure that you’ll manage to evade even the most innocent of accidents?

You won’t. He’s sure of it.

And so, he’s growing slightly paranoid because every new object you encounter is immediately a threat to him, five different ways that object could endanger you immediately flashing through his mind.

A pair of car keys? They’re dull and blunt, sure, but if they were thrust into your chest just right they could rupture something, cause you to bleed out, give you tetanus or metal poisoning.

A book you’re obsessing over? You could get a papercut, a slice across your pretty skin, and Kalluto has proven that paper can be incredibly deadly.

Your damn cell phone? Well, the screen is horrible for your eyes, your information could be sold and land in the hands of someone nefarious, and he knows you look at it while you’re walking on busy streets.

There’s just so many avenues for you to get hurt, and Illumi works himself to the bone to prevent any of them from successfully causing you harm. And he’s effective, too – you’ll find your knives have suddenly disappeared, your razors too, even any sort of pill you have that’s stronger than Ibuprofen.

All your outlets have suddenly stopped working, your ovens too, even your dishwasher.

Your shower doesn’t seem to be able to get as hot as it used to, and you don’t remember your pillows being as fluffy or numerous as they currently are.

You’ll know something is wrong, your anxiety shooting through the roof because someone must be robbing you, setting foot into your home and stealing all your things.

The reality is much more sinister, much more terrifying, and as soon as you wake up in Illumi’s hold, you’ll realize that your situation is much, much worse than you’d imagined.

He’s going to every length to keep you safe and sound from potential harm, even if it leaves you feeling pitiful and beyond ashamed, the babyproofed bathroom he lets you use making you ill when you see the way there’s locks on the cabinets to prevent you from rooting around for anything that could cause irreparable damage.

It’ll make you feel incompetent, embarrassed even when Illumi tries to comfort you by saying that he doesn’t think you’re incapable, just not entirely trustworthy, my dear. There’s a difference.

(His voice is always just slightly condescending when he talks to you, and this is surely no exception – it’ll make you feel worse, but he doesn’t seem to notice or care.)

Because really, all that matters to Illumi is making sure that you stay alive – he’s selfish, wanting to keep you solely to himself, and even if that means making sure you go nowhere unaccompanied, to nothing without his help, make no decisions by yourself, he doesn’t mind.

He’s doing it for you, for your shared love, for the good of your relationship.

And if you don’t seem to understand that for now, he’s sure someday you will. Someday you’ll realize the extent to which Illumi cares for you – why else would he do so very much for you, his devotion to you spanning long before he finally got to sink his claws (and cock) into you?

So really, shouldn’t you be grateful?

DEALING WITH RIVALS:

Jealousy is very much not something Illumi has ever really had to deal with.

His whole life has been training, killing, devotion to his family and the Zoldyck name, and as an assassin he’s never really been envious of anyone, or really had strong enough feelings about anything to want something.

It’s a concept he understands in theory but begins questioning it when it comes to the way it makes people crazy, the way people act so strangely in circumstances where envy and jealousy are concerned. It seems entirely stupid, something that only serves to derail situations.

And yet, once a strange nagging feeling begins at the edges of his mind, Illumi finds himself wondering if this is the famous jealousy he’s always heard of.

It doesn’t feel good – it’s like there’s something pulling at his heart, a hand wrapped around it and squeezing every so often, the feeling almost painful and certainly irritating.

But the more he’s around you, the more it persists – almost seeming to grow by the day, even if you’re fully alone, in your apartment reading a book or scrolling through your phone. Illumi very suddenly understands why jealousy is known as something so horrible, something that eats you up inside and won’t leave you alone – that is, Illumi quickly begins noticing that he isn’t the only man vying for your attention and love.

Because he’s constantly watching you, following you and making sure that he knows everything there is to know about your life and relationships with others, he doesn’t miss the situations where you interact with another man, where you smile and laugh and even compliment other men, all right in front of him.

(Illumi tends to conveniently disregard the fact that you aren’t able to sense him, that you aren’t aware that you have a dangerous, murderous stalker trailing your every move.)

It’s irritating, frustrating, distracting enough to be seriously affecting his work – he’ll have a fleeting thought of the way you’d smiled at that other man a week ago as he goes for the final stab into the target’s chest, but the slight snarl he lets out has him missing just slightly, instead nicking the target in the shoulder and giving them an opportunity to scramble away.

Illumi’s irritation only increases at that, and soon there’s blood splattered along the floor as he breaths deeply, the red staining his clothing standing out bright.

He really tried to ignore it at first, but once it began affecting him even when he’s not in your presence, Illumi knew he had to solve the problem. And after a quick, rather detached conversation with his father about it, Illumi was quickly enlightened that he was in fact jealous, his father having laughed lightly and patting him on the arm, telling him that it’s natural to feel that way about your wife, Illumi. Your duty is as an assassin, but as a member of this family. If the woman you’ve chosen to bear your heir is giving you such feelings, I see no harm in acting upon them. It will serve you well to focus more on your work, as well.

And so Illumi embraces this newfound permission to foster this emotion - it’s odd, the way what he’s fairly confident is anger coils around his heart, making his fists clench slightly, his nails digging into his palms as he watches you talk and laugh with that man. That man, who probably doesn’t even know how to use nen, who probably doesn’t even understand how perfect of a wife you could be, how good of a mother and perfect addition to his family you’d be.

It’s strange, and while Illumi doesn’t particularly enjoy it, he can’t deny the odd sense of finality that comes with killing without being paid to, the strange sensation of enjoying ending a life. He finds himself smiling after plunging his nails into a man’s jugular, but Illumi isn’t too horribly bothered.

It’s new and strange, but so is everything else you make Illumi experience, after all. Why should this be any different?

As he trails behind you in the shadows, his dark eyes train in on your figure as you bite your lip and look over the selection of fruit displayed out on the cart of the farmer’s market.

Illumi stays perfectly still, completely focused on watching you. You’re wearing a pair of jeans today, pants that hug your figure a little too tightly for his tastes, along with a sweatshirt that does quite the opposite – hiding your upper body, which Illumi only finds slightly more agreeable.

(In the back of his mind, he makes a mental note to have a talk with you about proper dress for a woman such as yourself – a woman who’s to become part of a powerful, wealthy family, and as such must represent them - and her husband - with her head held high and confidence oozing from her. He’s sure a nice skirt and blouse will do the trick – silky or satin, shimmery and soft like you. Or, perhaps, a dress – maybe a floral pattern or a deep magenta. Of course, you’ll eventually be wearing purple, the Zoldyck family color, but he knows women enjoy fashion, and he's interested to see what you’d pick.)

As he thinks through what he’ll say to you, already planning out how the conversation will go, he notices a man with shaggy brown hair and honey brown eyes take a deep breath and walk beside you, standing next to you and looking over the selection of apples, pears, oranges and various other fruits.

Illumi’s expression makes no change as the brunette says something about how there’s always too many options at markets like these, types of fruit that he’s never heard of making it difficult to choose, to which you laugh and full heartedly agree.

The assassin makes no move, but as he watches and listens with distaste lodged in the back of his throat, you continue on the conversation, asking the man’s advice on which type of apple you should get.

It’s a short interaction, in all honesty - maybe a minute maximum, but Illumi is still watching with a heavy, piercing gaze, feeling the same odd, sickly feeling rise up from his chest.

He’s already decided that if the man moves to lay even a finger on you he’ll emerge from the shadows, swiftly and triumphantly piercing his chest with his entire hand.

Maybe that’ll get him to stop talking.

But the man doesn’t, and so Illumi begrudgingly lets the conversation run its course. You eventually say goodbye to the man and ask him if he’d like to meet up at the same booth in a week to compare the types of fruit.

Immediately Illumi’s fist clenches, his nails sharpening and digging into his palms, drops of blood littering the pavement below him as his eyes never stray, keeping trained on you as you walk in the opposite direction of the man, who is now blushing and smiling like a fool.

Disgusting, Illumi thinks as he follows the man.

The world won’t miss him, is all he’s thinking as he pulls a pin and flicks his wrist, the needle sinking into his neck. He watches with a dull gaze as the fast acting poison renders the man immobile, falling to his knees as his chest slows its breaths, eventually no longer moving.

You most certainly won’t, he thinks as he picks up the body, unsheathing the needle after life has left the body, finding a nearby trash bin to stuff the man into.

It isn’t the most efficient method of dealing with a body, but Illumi can’t be bothered – after all, in the some thirty seconds it’s taken him to deal with the man who thought he had a chance with what Illumi has already claimed as his, you’ve managed to make it a bit further from him, wandering through the maze of stalls with the bag full of produce in your hands.

He’s immediately falling into step behind you, the flexing of his fingers doing nothing to distract him as he brings back his stare, internally sighing as he sees another man – this time blond – look over at you and not so subtly rake his eyes up and down your body.

Illumi’s brow twitches – he only brought twenty needles this morning, and you’ve only been at the market for some fifteen minutes. Already he only has three left, and with a small sigh he reminds himself to bring more tomorrow, as he’ll surely use them.

And really, while Illumi doesn’t enjoy that other men are looking at you, being deluded enough to believe that they have a chance with you, he needs to make sure that there are no complications with your union, that there will be no problems to take care of when he eventually whirls you away to his home, where you’ll be his lovely wife that provides him with children and a warmth he can’t explain.

There’s a certain thrill that comes with letting himself feel, with not pushing down the emotion as his father said – a certain thrill that he can only feel where you’re concerned.

After all, you’re just that special.

TAKING HIS DARLING AWAY:

From the moment Illumi decides that you’re a good match for him, it becomes a known fact (at least, among his family) that you would eventually be living alongside him in the Zoldyck manor.

You don’t have a choice, really – all of his family lives together on the mountain, and you will be no exception, despite your temporary status as an honorary member.

(This status is temporary if only because now you aren’t an official Zoldyck, but the moment you become pregnant with his child, this status changes – you’re a real Zoldyck then, because inside you grows the family’s next assassin, a product of Illumi’s devotion to you and proof of your resolve to commit yourself to the Zoldycks. It’s all terribly romantic to Illumi, even if it makes you want to hurl, and he’ll have no qualms telling you this information – he’ll even frame it as if it’s some sort of incentive to get you eagerly spreading your legs for him. He treats it like you want to be accepted into the family – like it’s your deepest desire, and no amount of arguing or pleading with him will convince him otherwise.)

You will be sharing a bed with him, living under the same roof and spending all your time beside him when he’s not away for a job, whether you like it or not, and Illumi has known this from the very beginning. You’ll be curled up in his arms, his skin cold and slightly clammy as he holds you, his grip much too tight and stiff even as he sleeps – you can hardly move, every breath you take feeling constricted and controlled, as if Illumi is doing you a favor by allowing you just a bit of space to breathe.

It takes him a while to fully develop and understand what his feelings mean, but once he does he isn’t holding back in any form - his family was, for lack of a better word, floored the night that their eldest son casually mentioned having selected his future wife. Kikyo was immediately pressing him for details, wanting to know every fact and scrap of information about her future daughter in law, which Illumi was happy to provide.

He immediately spouted off your name, age, basic personality, physical features, hobbies, interests, important life events, past and current jobs, relationships with your parents, friends, partners, anything and everything he can think of, Kikyo listening all the while with a scowl on her face. She’s confused on why her precious son has chosen you, considering you weren’t a skilled nen user, a fighter or even someone of great importance.

She’s not completely convinced of her son’s choice, but there’s a strange determination to Illumi’s normally lifeless eyes that she can see that makes her back off a bit, leaving her with an odd sense of finality in his words, confidence in his decision that makes it hard to argue.

(Besides, everyone knows Killua is the true heir of the family – as long as Illumi produces members to join the Zoldyck ranks, it’s not so important who chooses to wed. As long as they’re suitable for conception, she’ll begrudgingly accept – perhaps not with enthusiasm, but she’ll relent nonetheless.)

Silva is listening as well, though not as intensely as his wife, and after Illumi finishes his some twenty minute recall of your information, he merely takes a sip of his drink and nods, telling his son to treat her with care, she sounds weak in comparison to you.

Milluki is rolling his eyes, wondering why his brother decided on someone so normal, though he doesn’t dare say anything. Internally, though, he’s already imagining what you look like, his mental picture of you built upon Illumi’s descriptions, but with just a bit more detail – things his brother hadn’t mentioned, like the size of your chest or if you’re clumsy or if your voice is high and feminine and whiny.

Kalluto only nods, wondering what you’ll be like in person if you’ve managed to catch his older brother’s eye.

His mother is still disappointed in his choice, but wastes no time helping Illumi prepare for your eventual arrival, helping him create a regiment for how to integrate you into the family, how to work with your needs, considering your status as a mere commoner.

And while Illumi lets his mother plan and schedule and bustle about, he’s merely thinking of how he should take you away, tuning out his mother’s shrill words as she yells and commands butlers, telling them to prepare and clean and do everything so that Illumi’s new wife will be received well.

In all reality, Illumi – while very much concerned with his family’s acceptance of you, considering the tightness and loyalty instilled into him – isn’t especially concerned about the plans his mother is running wild preparing. He knows that with enough time and training, you’ll eventually fit right into the mold his mother wants you to, or at least as far into it as Illumi is allowing.

Because really, while he agrees that you need to be toughened up at least a little bit in order to survive in the mansion and be strong enough to bear his children, he doesn’t want your core personality to change – he fell in love with you for a reason, and while you must be trained a bit to survive as a Zoldyck, he doesn’t want you to become a stranger.

And so instead of listening to his mother’s plans, he’s slipping out under the cover of nightfall and climbing through the familiar window of your bedroom, your sleeping form laying so still and peaceful, like you’re just waiting for him to come steal you away.

A pin (as much as he hates piercing your skin with the needle, it must be done) is applied to your shoulder and your sleep is suddenly much heavier, your body visibly going limp, your breaths getting longer and deeper, and for a moment he worries that he’s infused too much nen into the needle, that your breathing will just keep slowing until it eventually stops.

His grip against his spare needles tightens at the thought, the force so strong that it snaps the metal in half, the sound knocking him from his thoughts as he blinks down at you, a small sense of relief filling him because your chest is still steadily rising and falling.

Illumi carries you in his arms back to the manor, not minding the weight of your body holding him down.

And just as he passes through the gates, he feels what he thinks might be excitement brewing in his chest.

Life with Illumi will be, in all honesty, hell.

It’s not so much that he enjoys making you miserable or seeing you uncomfortable, but rather that he’s grown up with such intense expectations, such strict regimes and schedules that he upholds you to similar standards.

Of course, you won’t be going through training to become an assassin while you’re with him – no practice with combat or anything so violent, if only because Illumi’s worry over your safety prohibits him from allowing you anywhere near a knife or a fist cocked and ready to be swung.

(Not to mention the fact that he plans on you going absolutely nowhere without him, and as such there’s no reason for you to learn how to defend yourself. You don’t need to build up immunity to poison, how to most effectively snap a neck, or to learn any number of the cruel things that he thinks are much too unwomanly for someone like you.)

No, the schedule and timetables he puts you on are much more general, humiliating, dehumanizing – being told when you can and can’t use the restroom is something you’ll quickly come to realize takes away even the barest scrap of dignity and independence you have left under Illumi’s control.

He dictates what time you wake up, what you eat for each meal of the day, and your activities between meals - comprised mostly of more feminine things, as his mother advised you learn, like sewing and mending, floral arrangement, proper dining etiquette, and of course, lessons on how to properly raise children, taught by Kikyo herself.

(From the get go, it will be extremely apparent to you that the entirety of the Zoldyck family – Illumi included – expect offspring, assuming with little thought that you’ll be bearing the eldest son’s children in what Silva has expressed as sooner than you think with a small nod and poignant stare. Shivers had run down your spine at the way Illumi’s gaze on you seemed to only grow in intensity at his father’s comment, his cold fingers pressing against the small of your back in a way that made your skin crawl. Besides, the built in conception time, as Illumi so lovingly puts it, makes it more than obvious that he’s fucking you with the intent of getting you pregnant.)

It’s demeaning, the way you’re treated like some toddler, some incompetent idiot with the way Kikyo flutters around you, her shrill voice echoing through the corridors as you cower and obey.

It isn’t that you want to be obedient to a family you’ve come to realize is beyond fucked up, but you’ve also seen Illumi at work. He’s come home to you covered in blood, giving you a small smile as he awkwardly leans down to press a chaste kiss against your lips, his dark eyes staying open the whole time.

You don’t particularly want to be the submissive, obedient future mother of Illumi’s children like everyone in the manor is expecting you to be (with the exception of Killua, whom Illumi desperately wants you to get along with, and he may honestly be the only ray of light within this dark, musty home – at least he somewhat understands how fucked up the situation is, though he’s told you many times that there’s nothing he can do to help you).

But the constant threat of the fact that anyone in the house could kill you with a simple flick of the wrist is not lost on you, and while Illumi genuinely terrifies you for much of the first few months of your captivity, you quickly learn to obey his every word, to live to please him.

He’s really the only ally you have – he’s more forgiving, easier to try and wiggle your way out of a less severe punishment with, especially as you learn to predict his wishes.

He wants you to wear a certain kimono that he thinks looks beautiful on you? You hate the pattern on it and the way the style makes your figure look, but you scramble to slide into the fabric, trying to ignore his ever present stare boring into your naked body.

He wants you to come play with his hair, because he’s been told by his father that it feels nice and he’s seen couples do it? immediately you’re clambering to sit on the chair behind his seated position on the floor, running your fingers through his dark locks while he sits stick straight, silence enveloping the two of you.

He wants you to lay beside him while he rests, recovering his energy from a recent mission? You’re already slipping underneath the sheets, clearing a space for him and letting him wrap his arms around your waist and pull you against him.

(He’s so stiff even when he ‘cuddles’ you – his skin is so cold, his back straight, his grip on you tight enough to make you squirm, and the hot breath against your neck when he tells you that he’s missed you, my dear, my day is less bright without your presence will make you wince.)

Some of his wishes are, admittedly, much more difficult to obey than others, however – when he tells you to lay back and spread your legs while he’s shimmying off his pants, it’s difficult to not fight, to not cry and scream as he pushes into you, his eyebrows twitching together and his pale fists clenching by your head as he slowly begins humping into you.

He isn’t necessarily bad to you per se, though quickly his family picks up on his cluelessness on how to truly treat a spouse, and so after a few comments from Silva about how to properly woo you (maybe she will be less unruly, and you may have more luck producing children this way as well) he actually does take his advice and try to make at least some attempt at romancing you.

He’s telling you robotically delivered compliments, buying you bouquets of roses, even rewarding your good behavior with small knick knacks from your old apartment and life – but it’s not enough; the fear of him is still far greater than the almost charming awkwardness he exudes in moments of intimacy and tenderness will ever be.

You’ll essentially become a submissive, sweet little housewife under Illumi’s care, and even if you hate it, even if you try with everything you have to not be subjected to the future of bearing his children, holding the famous last name of Zoldyck, and being completely subservient to the man who kidnapped you and forcefully began a ‘relationship’ with you, Illumi and the rest of his family have ways of making sure you stay in line.

And before long, you’ll grow to accept your place, to realize that there is absolutely nothing you can do.

PUNISHMENTS:

In all honesty, Illumi rarely gets actually mad at you – he’s much more frequently disappointed when you don’t behave correctly, when you fight him or make some weak attempt at escaping.

He doesn’t get mad, but there is this small sense of pity that he feels when he watches you cry and beg him to not come any closer, to please let me go, I promise I won’t tell anyone what happened! Please, I don’t want to be with you or your sick family!

It hurts, if he’s being honest, but he knows that in order to train you, to mold you into the perfect spouse and future mother of his children, he needs to be patient.

Dogs can’t be expected to follow commands from the very beginning, right?

And so, when he kneels down to where you’re curled up in the corner of your shared room, his dark hair hanging around you like a curtain while his wide eyes never blink and stay situated on you, he’s merely tilting his head and asking in a voice much too serious to be natural, oh but darling, can’t you see you’re already part of this family? Now, dinner is to be ready in thirty minutes. I need to properly prepare you.

He actually has a surprising amount of patience with you – you make him soft (or at least as soft as he can be, though anyone that knows him well can spot the differences in his treatment and air around you), and he doesn’t really want to harm you or scare you.

It’s a necessary evil in his eyes, though if he had his way, he’d train you to the point where you’re willingly looking at him with love.

He’d train you until you’re welcoming him home with a sweet kiss to his cheek after a long job with a toddler clutching at your legs, a baby suckling at your breast and a swollen belly telling him and the rest of the world exactly who you belong to, your lovesick cry of his name when you see him making the smile plastered onto his lips that much more genuine.

You make him feel, something so foreign and strange, and to Illumi this new, small amount of emotion feels downright overwhelming, something so strong and powerful and wonderful. It’s addicting, truly, something that he finds himself actively wanting, a concept he’s never felt before towards anything except bringing back Killua.

And so while he doesn’t particularly enjoy punishing you, it’s worth it to keep those feelings alive, to build up to the point where his fantasies of your domestic future with one another come to fruition.

So really, while he doesn’t get mad at you very often, he won’t hesitate to dole out punishments where he sees fit – it’s all for a greater purpose, he tells you, though you have your doubts.

Besides, there’s something even more disturbing about him punishing you when he isn’t even angry – it’s worse because it all just seems so pointless; maybe if he was yelling you would understand why he’s doing what he’s doing. He’d seem human, maybe, capable of emotion – instead, you get those familiar, dead eyes staring at you, his expression carefully neutral as he tells you that this is for your own sake, my dear, and one day you’ll see that.

When it comes to actually punishing you, Illumi’s aversion to causing you any sort of physical harm prevents him from inflicting a whole varietyof punishments onto you – he doesn’t want to taint your delicate skin, to break a bone, to do any number of things that he’s been told over and over by his family would help.

(Milluki insists that breaking both of your legs would be a good way to prevent any kind of behavior targeted around trying to escape, and while Illumi understands the logic and even agrees with it, the look of your teary eyes staring up at him and your desperate pleads to not hurt you are simply too much.)

(Milluki also suggests, with a crude grin and a gulp, that perhaps letting him try a hand at getting you to cooperate would be helpful – besides, he’ll add with a smarmy smile and his tongue flicking out over his lips, a Zoldyck heir is a Zoldyck heir, doesn’t matter who knocked her up, right? That night, Milluki ended up with the broken bone rather than you.)

He isn’t sure why he’s so incapable of hurting you considering his profession, but he just can’t – and so, he finds other methods.

Namely, your mental state is completely fair game; he’s training you after all, and when the basement of the Zoldyck mansion is just so expansive, so cold and wet and so very dark, how can he not use that to his advantage?

Your eyes are casted downwards, your voice soft and unsure as you ask if you can see my family again? Kikyo mentioned that it’s December, and there’s an important birthday in the family this month that I’d like to celebrate with them…

Illumi had been cuddling you (or, at least holding you in his arms while he lay on his side, completely frozen and inhaling the scent of your hair again and again while you uncomfortably squirmed around), but the moment those words tumble from your lips, he’s blinking pensively, pondering your statement.

I don’t know of any birthdays in the family this month.

When you try again, telling him that it’s your family you’re talking about, the one you were raised in and that you love, immediately he’s cutting you off.

My dear, you must be mistaken. The nearest birthday is Grandfather’s, and that isn’t for another month.

His voice is firmer this time, as if he’s trying to tell you something, but some part of you refuses to silently accept his blatant dismissal of your request.

Illumi you don’t understand, it’s –

his grip is tightening even more, practically suffocating you as his nails dig into your exposed arms, his voice somewhere between a hiss and a scold.

No, my love, you don’t understand. Don’t speak of them. They are no longer your family – you are a Zoldyck now, and you’ll forget all of those past imposters. You will not, under any circumstances, be allowed to see them again. Now, come with me.

And it’s not like you have much of a choice – as he picks you up and brings you down the stairs, endless winding hallways that steadily grow colder and colder the deeper you head, you’re flailing, apologizing profusely, anything to not have to spend another few nights in the basement.

And while Illumi doesn’t enjoy the tears that stream down your cheeks, he stays strong and ties you to the chains connected to the walls – loose enough that you can be seated on the ground, but tight enough to restrict any movement.

Once you’re stationary, he stands before you and stares, the light from the door behind him illuminating his figure.

I expect you to tell me who your real family is when I return.

And with that, he’s walking out the room and slamming the door shut behind him, leaving you shrouded in darkness, with nothing but the sound of your own breathing and heartbeat to entertain you.

He generally leaves you down there for three days, give or take – enough to have you dehydrated, your stomach growling and rumbling painfully at the lack of food, cold seeping into your bones and leaving you shivering and shaking, all the while fear envelopes you because there’s something here with you, you just know it.

The sounds coming from the corner of the room are too difficult to ignore, though you have no idea what it could be. You presume it’s some sort of creature, designed to kill you if Illumi so desires, the scuttling noise making fear creep up your spine every time you hear it. The sounds are ryhtmic, predictable, always going off in roughly thirty minute intervals, leading you to believe the creature is smart, or at least trained to be so.

It’s terrifying and your mind will conjure up images of terrifying, grotesque beasts in its bored and fearful state, but in reality the monster in question is Illumi himself – he grows so dependent on you that he can’t be away from you for more than about a day, so he treats himself to hiding in the shadows and simply watching you.

You’re very pretty, even when you’re crying and covered in dirt and covered in your own piss, and it’s in those moments that Illumi truly realizes how deeply his feelings for you run, how badly he wants you to be his everything. He just can’t stop looking at you, those dark eyes raking over your figure over and over and over, moving his position roughly every thirty minutes to get a new angle of you.

(Though, it’s not like he needs to see you to remember what you look like from this angle, he’s stalked you so thoroughly and so heavily that he could draw your face in his sleep with pinpoint accuracy, your features metaphorically carved behind his eyelids so that he’ll always see you you you when he blinks.)

And when he eventually opens the door once more, light cracking into the room and making you violently blink, he’s asking if you’ve learned your lesson yet, if you’re finally understanding who your real family is, and immediately you’re practically yelling that yes, I understand! I’m a Zoldyck, the Zoldycks are my real family! I love them and I love you, Illumi, because I’m your wife and that’s all I’ve ever wanted to be!

(If you were in a better state of mind you’d have the energy to be ashamed of yourself, but you’re so desperate to get out of this cellar and into the warmth, to drink something and eat something and be away from the thing trapped in there with you that you just don’t care.)

He nods, satisfied, and opens the locks, only to blink in surprise when you wobbly embrace him, sobbing into his chest and clutching onto his clothes because even though he’s unnaturally cold, he’s still warmer than the hell you’ve been in for the last three days.

And while he’s not the best at physical affection, he’ll wrap his arms around you and pull you tighter, crushing you against his hard chest whispering in your ear that he’s so glad you’ve finally accepted your place.

OVERALL DANGER:

9/10

The danger that lies with being Illumi’s darling is honestly just the fact that once he chooses you, there is absolutely no chance of escaping him.

He’s a trained assassin with connections everywhere; outside of death itself, there’s no way for you to get away from him, no matter how hard you try or who you manage to recruit into aiding you.

(And even if you were to somehow manage to kill yourself, Illumi will keep your dead body by his side – holding it at night while he sleeps, propping you in a chair across from him while he eats and carries on a one sided conversation about work that day, even going so far as to fuck your cold, lifeless body just to feel you.)

He’s lived his whole life feeling nothing at all, and the second that you inspire any bit of emotion within him, his whole perspective seems to alter just slightly, something warm and strange and good blooming in his chest. It’s something completely foreign, but the longer it goes on the more he decides the likes it, growing used to the feeling and craving more of it, finding himself yearning – yes, yearning – to feel it once more when he’s been away from you for long periods of time.

Once he realizes that the common cause of this feeling is you, Illumi is deciding that you’re the one he’ll be adding to the Zoldyck family as his partner, his spouse, his lover.

You’ll be the one to bear his children and continue on the name, all while he gets to enjoy the strange warmth in his chest, the odd protectiveness that forces him to keep you locked up, safe from the outside world, the strange urge he feels to reach out and touch you, to see you smile, to feel your lips against his own.

And so while he won’t ever directly physically harm you, your mental state will be destroyed, and you’ll be in constant fear that someday he’ll decide you aren’t worth the trouble, that once he impregnates you and you give him a few heirs, he’ll kill you off effortlessly.

These fears will never, ever see fruition of course, but the trouble with Illumi is that you just never know.

He’s skilled in the art of killing, but his skills in lying are quite formidable as well – you can never truly tell when he’s being honest with you, and while he’s never fully lied to you (only misrepresented facts and led you to believe something that may not be entirely true), you’ll live in a constant state of unease because you’re so, so very aware that he could kill you with a mere flick of his wrist if he so desired, and what’s stopping him? He claims to be in love, but in what world is this love?

And you, lucky lucky you, get the lovely package deal of not only him, but his fucked up family as well – so good luck, and really, just let him mold you into the perfect, obedient little wife he wants you to be.

You’ll be much, much happier in the end.

[angelltheninth]

husband!Gun x wife!reader where she kept avoiding intimacy with him because she was afraid of her stretch mark after giving birth, but he proved her that he still adores her body no matter what happened, pleaseee 😙

thank youuu 💖

Thank you for such a cute request!

Pairing: Gun Park x Fem!Reader

Tags: fluff, married life, being parents, bodyworship, insecurity, cuddles, reassurance, kissing

A/N: Going on a vacation in two days so I'm gonna write a few of these posts ahead of time.

Husband!Gun Park knows you've been feeling bad about your body lately. Ever since you gave birth you've been covering up a lot more, wearing baggy clothes, buying different clothes and almost hiding yourself from him when ever you changed for bed.

Husband!Gun Park offers you massages every night before bed. He wants you to know he still likes touching you and that will never change no matter how much your body does. You don't have to hide from him and if you try to then he will hold your wrists with his hands and kiss you breathless.

Husband!Gun Park takes you clothes and lingerie shopping and tells you how pretty you look in more revealing clothes. He's not ashamed when he's vocal about how pretty his wife is, he'll say it with his full chest and doesn't care who hears him. Besides he is more than capable of defending that position.

Husband!Gun Park wants to take as many pictures of you as you'll let him. He will brag about how pretty his wife is and you can't stop him. At this point you're not even surprised at the amount of pictures he has of you in his phone.

Husband!Gun Park runs his fingers across your stretch marks until you let him hear the noises he wants to hear. These touches won't ever stop, there will never be a day where he doesn't want you. If you doubt that then he will spend all night keeping you up and reminding how pretty you are to him.

Husband!Gun Park might find your body even more attractive after your pregnancy. If you told him that such a thing was possible he wouldn't have believed it, he was already crazy over you. But he cuddles you and your baby every day, watching with careful and adorning eyes as you nurse them.

Husband!Gun Park looks forward to you working out with him if it will make you feel better. He's always working out and that could be a good bonding activity, a good way to spend your time together outside of home. A great way to work up a sweat together.

Husband!Gun Park punches and fights anyone who criticizes your body in front of him. They're probably jealous that he has a good, loving and beautiful wife by his side. Stupidity won't save them from him beating the living hell out of them until they growl and apologize.

Husband!Gun Park encourages you to wear clothing that shows off your stretch marks when you're in the house. When he gives you compliments he hopes your self-confidence will grow enough for you to no longer be ashamed of your body. You wouldn't stop loving him if his body went through a change he knows you would still love him, and he loves you too.

Husband!Gun Park kisses your stretch marks every morning. He pulls your pajamas up and makes sure you look at him while he's kissing you. The more you see his love for you the more you'll know that there's nothing that you could go through and lose his love for you.

[citrusy-lemons]

meet-cute

tasm!peter x reader (university au)

summary: you're late to your class and someone's left a skateboard on your path. the owner of the skateboard has very brown eyes.

w/c: 0.8k

author's note: um, hi. this is the first thing i've written for peter parker (i know, shocking, i mostly read about him) so i'm not sure whether i've captured his essence, but i tried. also i know it's a bit cringey but i started writing it in the reader's pov and i couldn't change it to peter's in the middle like i wanted to so, i guess, next time. i hope you like this! constructive criticism is encouraged, please be nice :)

you had not imagined your first day of university to go this way. it was a cloudy day, pleasant and not too windy. you were hoping to make it to class a few minutes early and have everything set up before the professor arrived. 

but instead, you were late, you were not organized at all, and you were panicking. all because your stupid alarm hadn’t gone off. why? because you’d forgotten to change the timezone in your phone. moving to the new city had not been easy and now you were super late for your class.

cursing yourself for your stupidity, you were hurrying across the campus, you weren’t sure where your class was, but you were hoping that you’re walking in the right direction. 

checking your bag, hoping to god that you’d grabbed the right books on your way out, with a cup of coffee in your other hand, you awkwardly jogged across the campus to the building where you hoped would be philosophy by mr. jackson. 

you were in the midst of congratulating yourself on successfully having the correct textbooks in your bag when the earth shifted. 

okay maybe that was a bit dramatic but that was what had happened to you. the earth hadn’t shifted, but you’d fallen on your butt because someone had left a skateboard lying in the middle of the walking path. 

thankfully, your coffee hadn’t spilled but your books sure had. looking up you found a brown-haired boy bashfully kneeling down and start collecting the books, profusely apologizing.

"-really sorry, are you okay? did you break anything? i broke my ankle a couple of years ago but i was just being stupid, oh god did you break your ankle? i hope you didn't, that hurts a lot. i'm so so sorry, are you okay?" he finished, turning his brown eyes on you in concern.

he looked very... soft. he was wearing a brown jacket and a navy blue zip up over a light blue tshirt. his headphones were hanging out of the neck of his tshirt. he looked like he smiled a lot. his brown hair was ruffled, his brows furrowed and you realized he was still waiting for your answer.

"i dont think i've broken my ankle if that's what you're worried about," you sat up. your butt was sore, but other than that you were okay.

"okay, that's good, that's a start, anything else broken?" he bit his lip, and you tried not to stare at it.

"no, doesn't feel like it," you took a breath, and looked away from him, towards the guilty board, "why don't you explain why your skateboard was just lying there?"

he helped you up, your coffee was still intact, you dusted yourself off.

"oh, uh yeah, again, i'm really sorry, i was checking my schedule on whether philosophy was right now or in an hour and i didn't realise it had rolled away from me," he did look very guilty, his frown saying as much.

he returned your books and you stuffed them in your bag which was lying on the ground. he was still looking at you.

"be careful then," say something clever, why wasn't your brain working?

"i'm really sorry," he offered, why was he still looking at you?

he picked his own bag up from the ground and looked away, grabbing his skateboard too.

you blinked.

"i think philosophy is right now,"

he looked at you again.

"which reminds me," you walked past him, fast. almost running, looking straight ahead.

philosophy is right now and you are very late.

"um, hey!" you heard him call out and turned around, still walking. he was facing your direction, looking at you again.

"philosophy by mr. jackson?" he asked, his skateboard in one hand and his brown bag slung across his back. did he really like the color brown?

"yeah," you called back, hoping he didn't have the same class as you.

"his classroom's that way," he pointed his thumb behind him.

goddamnit.

you stopped and started walking in his direction and he joined with you as you went past him. he took the hint that you were late and didn't really feel like making conversation. you tried not to visually show your panic but he seemed like a good observer.

you both reached the classroom (it was the first room in the building how could you have missed it?), and saw that yeah, you guys were very late.

the classroom was full, and a middle aged man was already talking to the students. professor jackson noticed you both before you had a chance to say anything.

"ah late on the first day, not making a good impression mr. and miss...?"

"peter- uh parker, peter parker," the boy next to you said.

you introduced yourself and mr. jackson let you both get to your seats without further embarrassment.

you sat down, pulled your textbook out and tried listening to what the professor was saying.

you looked for him and found peter parker's brown eyes already on you.

[ladykailitha]

Not All That Glitters Is Gold Part 2

Hello! Welcome to part two of my omegaverse. Just a heads up. This chapter is a bit dark. Trigger warning for sex trafficking. Not Steve. This was a way for me to show how well tuned Steve is too his clients.

Part 1

***

Steve packed his bag and stood up to see Robin waiting for him.

“You ready to go?” she asked, holding out her hand for his bag.

He handed it to her. “Ready as I’ll ever be.”

They walked out to the waiting car. Once inside Robin asked, “Here’s your phone. The word for you being in danger is kitten. The word for spontaneous heat is catnip. And the word for bonding talk and contract buying is tower.”

Steve took the small flip phone. He had his own smart phone, but those weren’t allowed anywhere near clients. The last thing a Starcourt omega needed were crazed alphas stalking them. He handed her his. She slipped it into her purse.

“Just go a message from Dillon’s PA,” she said, looking at her phone, “he has just gone into pre-rut. Fever, irritability, and mood swings.”

Steve sighed. He liked to get there before that happened. “Did he start early?”

Robin sent off a message and moments later she growled at the response. “Apparently not. Apparently, he didn’t want you there for pre-rut and lied.”

He growled too. “Put him on the black list and tell his PA if he so much as twitches wrong during this, I’m leaving.”

She nodded. “I’ll also let management know. There’s a reason for omegas to be there during the pre-rut and that’s the safety of the omega. If he can’t follow a simple rule like that, what other rules is he going to break?”

He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “You think I should pull out?”

Robin thought about it a moment. “It’s up to you. One lie isn’t a deal breaker per se. Lots of alphas do stupid shit the first time because they think they’re impressing you.”

Steve nodded. “There is something about this lie that makes me itch, though.”

“So pull out,” she said. “If you’re getting the skin crawlies, don’t go into something you can’t get out of.”

He thought about it all the rest of the trip, until they pulled up in front of the building.

“I think I’m going to go in anyway,” he murmured. “It could be as you said before about it just being fragile alpha ego or it could be a clusterfuck. But the only way to find out for sure is if I meet the client.”

Robin patted him on the shoulder. “You’ve got good instincts, Steve. I’ll back you up in whatever way you need.”

“Right,” Steve said, tapping his lip. “Stay with the car until I text you.”

She nodded again. “Roger that!”

Steve smiled at her and gave her hand a squeeze of reassurance. “Alphas are stupid. I’m glad I never have to deal with them outside of work.”

Robin laughed. “I know, right? But we’re here now. Go show that loggerhead who’s boss.”

Steve grabbed his bag and kissed her cheek. When he got out onto the pavement he looked up at the high rise penthouse. Dillon’s wasn’t the top suite, but he wasn’t near the bottom either.

The doorman stopped him at the door with a critical eye on what he was wearing. All of Steve’s clothes were designer, but comfortable and something he didn’t care about being ripped off him. The Victoria’s Secret PINK sweatshirt he’d cut into a croptop was paired with baggy sweatpants that fuck on the ass and power on one leg and bottom on the other.

Steve just cocked his head to the side. “Dillon Forrest is waiting for me, doll.”

The doorman was about bluster something about not letting in the trash when Dillon’s PA came bursting through the door.

“Oh thank god you’re here!” she said. “His pre-rut is progressing faster than usual!”

Steve rolled his eyes. “That’s why the omega needs to be there before any of that shit goes down.”

She sighed. “I know, I tried to tell him, but he said it was fine. He had a meeting this morning that he didn’t want to put off.”

Steve sighed. Ego. Especially alpha ego was the worst.

He looked back over at the doorman who was opening and closing his mouth like a guppy fish.

When Steve raised an eyebrow suddenly he was spewing apologies and stuttering excuses.

“Take me in,” Steve told the PA, completely ignoring the doorman.

She nodded and led him to penthouse. It was bright and sunny. And that was a problem. His client was on the sofa practically shaking from the pre-rut symptoms.

He found the remote to the shades and closed them, casting the room into dim light. Immediately the twitchy actor breathed out a sigh of relief.

The PA’s eyes narrowed at the drastic change in behavior.

“You act like this is your first rut,” Steve snapped, pulling out a bottle of water from his bag.

Dillon and his PA exchanged a glance and Steve’s eyes went wide.

“Are you fucking kidding me right now?” Steve growled. “How long were you on suppressants?”

Dillon blushed, looking away then back up at the PA. “Since I presented when I was sixteen.”

“And you’re twenty-two now?”

Dillon nodded. Again he avoided looking at Steve and kept looking at the PA like she was in charge, not him.

Steve looked around and put his hands on his hips as he pursed his lips.

“This is a completely different situation then the one that was presented to the company,” Steve bit out. “I have to call my handler.”

He pulled out the phone and called Robin. He explained everything to her as he eyed Dillon and his PA. There was something off about the whole situation. The PA kept her eyes on Dillon, her fingers drumming on her arm, both arms crossed in front of her chest.

Steve listened to Robin, tilting his head further and further as he watched the two them.

“Kitten,” he said. “I think I left something in the car, I’ll be down to grab it okay?”

The PA frowned and stepped forward. “What did you forget?”

“It won’t take long,” Steve murmured, not bothering to answer her. There was a knock on the door and he went to answer it.

“Oh good you’re here,” he said with relief and then quickly closed the door behind them.

“Run!” he whispered to Robin.

She grabbed his hand and opened both elevators and got in one and told Steve to get in the other and go to the first floor and then down the stairs.

Steve nodded. Once in the elevator he called her.

“What’s going on?” Robin asked, panic rising her voice.

“I think Dillon was raised in sex trafficking ring,” he explained, “and you need to send someone to get him out of there now.”

Each omega had their own driver. Big, burly fellows for fending off large crowds of fans or very persistent alphas. And like extreme cases like this where they needed two pairs of hands, the handler and driver would work together to keep their omega safe.

Steve driver was a man named Xander Poulson and had been with Steve since the beginning. Robin had hand picked him and they relied on him for everything when Steve was on the job.

Robin opened her mouth to ask for particulars but closed it, messaging the driver to get Dillon out that suite instead. “All right, Xander will meet us at the car in five minutes.”

After that everything just happened so fast. Dillon sat listlessly between Robin and Steve as Xander sped away.

“How did you know he was in danger?” Robin asked as she rapid fire texted Starcourt management.

Steve ran his fingers through Dillon’s hair softly and the alpha sighed. “He was about to experience his first rut with an escort after having been on suppressants for six years.”

Robin looked down at the now almost delirious actor. “Shit. The only reason for an alpha to be on suppressants was if they were a danger to omegas.”

“Or if they being forced to have sex with other alphas,” Steve muttered darkly.

Dillon whimpered.

“Your flat is being set up for a first rut,” Robin said. “Management is okay with him being there because he’s too out of it to know where he is.”

Steve nodded. He wasn’t sure he could trust anything in the dossier considering most of what they now knew was a lie. “Shit Robin, I can’t even scent him! He smells duller than a beta.”

Robin frowned. “I’ll have a doctor sent over as well.”

They arrived back at Steve’s building and were quickly ushered in. The doctor saw to him first and administered medicine and tranquilizer to put him to sleep for a couple of hours to try and equalize the rut.

*

Dr Sam Owens, Robin, and manager, Jim Hopper were standing with Steve in his living room.

“Do you think you would have been harmed?” Hopper asked gruffly.

Steve shook his head. “I think they forced the rut because of what happened with his scent. I think they were hoping to jump start it so that he could be pimped out to omegas. But they couldn’t have it be any omega, they had to have someone who could gently see him through it.”

Dr Owens shook his head. “It wouldn’t have worked. He was too far gone. If you hadn’t acted as quickly as you did, there’s a good chance he would have destroyed his secondary gender when he came out the rut.”

Steve just shook his head.

“I just want to know how long they’ve been controlling him,” Robin hissed.

Hopper shook his head. “Dillon was a child actor, there is no telling how long they’ve had their claws in him.”

“Do we know anything about the ring he was being trafficked in?” Dr Owens asked Hopper.

“I’ve spoken to the FBI and INTERPOL, they have a pretty good idea which one it is,” Hopper growled. “The Upside Down, run by Henry Creel. And if Dillon willing to give them information they can probably take it down for good.”

“That’s a relief,” Robin said.

Hopper turned to Steve. “How did you know he was being trafficked?”

Steve blushed and rocked back on his heels. “No hot shot alpha actor was going to defer to their PA not unless it was a relation. Plus there was the fact she never introduced herself. Add to that all the lying about what it was and how little they both knew about ruts, it just really couldn’t be anything else.”

“You did good, Steve,” Hopper said. “You saved that man’s life and may have just taken down one of the biggest sex rings on the North American continent.”

“I was just doing what I do best,” Steve said, “take care of alphas in need. That’s what rut servicing is at it’s core, after all.”

“Well, I’m going to want to keep this hush hush,” Hopper said. “At least as far as the company is concerned. I don’t want to paint a target on your back.”

“I’ve already begun the scrubbing process regarding their files and contract with us,” Robin said. “The process should be done in two hours.”

“Good.”

“How long until he wakes up?” Steve asked Dr Owens.

Dr Owens looked at his watch. “In about an hour.”

Steve nodded. “That should give me plenty of time to get ready.”

He excused himself and went into the bedroom.

“That was not how wanted to spend my morning,” Hopper growled.

“I feel you, boss,” Robin agreed. “I wanted to pull out of the job when we were in the car, but Steve sensed something else was going on right away.”

Hopper nodded. “He isn’t our highest paid omega by a long shot, but he is the best.”

“I’ll drink to that,” Dr Owens said.

“Well, gentlemen,” Robin said, stowing away her laptop. “You really don’t want to be here when the fucking starts.”

Dr Owens and Hopper made faces and allowed themselves to be ushered out of Steve’s apartment.

Robin went through and made sure that the fridge was stocked to her specifications and then locked the door behind her.

***

Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17

Tag List: @spectrum-spectre @estrellami-1 @zerokrox-blog @artiststarme @swimmingbirdrunningrock @gregre369 @pyrohonk ​@a-little-unsteddie @chaosgremlinmunson @chaoticlovingdreamer @lexirosewrites @goodolefashionedloverboi @messrs-weasley @maya-custodios-dionach @val-from-lawrence @i-must-potato @danili666 @carlyv @rozzieroos @wonderland-girl143-blog @justforthedead89 @emly03 @bookworm0690 @itsall-taken @bookbinderbitch @redfreckledwolf @littlewildflowerkitten @vecnuthy @scheodingers-muppet @mira-jadeamethyst @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @genderless-spoon @yikes-a-bee @anne-bennett-cosplayer @awkwardgravity1 @irregular-child @nburkhardt @apomaro-mellow @yellowdevilkitten @lingeringmirth @rememberthatiloveyou @demolvr @ellietheasexylibrarian @slowandsteddie @mangoinacan13

[famemonsterrr]

Astrological observations part 20.

! This is 20th blog with observations and I’m so shocked I haven’t give up yet. Pliz for the love of mercury be gentle with me cause English isn’t my second language and I’m trying my best with vocabulary and grammar. Lastly these are my opinion and what I have experienced in my life don’t take it personally!

༘⋆ having earth sign placements means stress and anxiety for everything (send you love)

༘⋆ Leo moons must be the least confident placements because Leo is in the planet of emotions and so any criticism will crush them. Pliz be gentle with Leo moons:(

༘⋆ y’all think that Gemini, Sagittarius and Pisces aren’t easy to keep and they will change many lovers but I will tell you that you aren’t special enough to keep them. If they actually fall in love with you then they won’t leave even if Satan tries to bribe them.

༘⋆ Having libra/gemini moon is a blessing and a curse at the same time. I will talk about the curse of feeling a lot but you can’t decide what to feel…yeah you can talk ur emotions but truly u can’t even pick anything to feel. Also having your moon in your 3rd house is actually the same thing as having libra or Gemini.

༘⋆ Capricorn men are the men who look really good with glasses and elegant library college style. Prove me wrong hihihi

༘⋆ and speaking of male Capricorns. I want someone to explain to me why they look like they have lived 20 lives in the span of 5 years? Like Capricorn men change so much…and it’s really scary. If not the most chameleon type of sign.

༘⋆ everyone can say that they had a messy life or they messed up a lot…but not like Gemini,Aries,Pisces and Sagittarius did. These people they have done the most stupid shit ever and then BOOM one day they decide that have grow up and need to fix their lives. (It’s never too late babes)

༘⋆ in the subject of men (which I don’t like as much) I have to tell you that the men who looked the most beautiful are libra and Taurus men. Like they are so eye candies.

༘⋆ and the last capricorn observation but I true love u guys and also I want to know why you are talented and know so many things? Like I have noticed that so many male Capricorns are so talented and can talk about everything. Like they can paint, draw, play music, sing, act and they are so funny and charismatic…women? Literally goddesses.

༘⋆ I was watching the office and the line that Ryan says "I’m keeping a list of everyone who wrongs me" is the most Scorpio and Leo thing I have ever seen.

༘⋆ I have been around with a lot of Pisces and honestly they all so social butterfly (expect me who dislikes people for some reason) I don’t know why people think we are shy and introverts?

༘⋆ okay but I have noticed that people who are okay with nudity and consider it as freedom are the people who have heavy Aries, Scorpio, libra and Sagittarius placements.

༘⋆ mercury usually doesn’t really show about love but since it’s the planet about thoughts, it actually shows how you think about love or when do you like someone. For example Aquarius mercuries they know damn well when they like someone and they act accordingly (of course that can be influenced from other love related planets)

༘⋆ I love seeing the “Kris Kross” between 2 peoples charts. Like if you have a lot of the same zodiac signs but in opposite placements (like having Pisces sun with Aquarius Venus and they have Aquarius sun with Pisces Venus) then consider this a win and really positive for a relationship of course aespects are important as well. Now I can’t say the same thing in friendship synastry…the most crazy combinations can happen there

That’s all babes <3

My masterlist if you care to read more my other blogs.

Thank you soooo much for liking my posts and give me support to keep writing. Really greatful for it 🫶🏻

Stay healthy,happy and peaceful in these dark times we living.

Send u a lot of love 🫶🏻

[anneapocalypse]

On Cullen's Earnestness

In my current playthrough of Dragon Age: Inquisition, this one early war table quest caught my eye that I think offers a good bit of insight into Cullen’s character.

In “Truth or Dare: The Imperial Court,” Vivienne alerts Josephine to a letter she’s received from an acquaintance, purporting to “warn” Vivienne of the suspect company she has taken up in joining the Inquisition. The letter reads thus:

My dearest Vivienne,

You cannot have heard the shocking allegations against the Inquisition, or surely you would never have been seen with them. Allow me, as a friend, to open your eyes. People are saying that Divine Justinia is, indeed, alive, but that the Inquisition—her closest advisors and most trusted servants—have orchestrated all this chaos on her orders. That it was Seeker Pentaghast and Sister Nightingale who sabotaged the Conclave in order to eliminate the opposition within the Chantry, and cut off the heads of the mage rebellion and templars in a single stroke. To save your own reputation, you must escape this acquaintance immediately.

With deepest concern, Vicomtesse Elodie de Morreau

In the context of the Game, we may understand that this Vicomtesse, while she may call Vivienne a friend, likely has no great concern for her reputation.

The Inquisition is the horse on which Vivienne is betting in order to better her own position (which is considerably shakier than she lets on, but that’s another post); Vicomtesse Elodie is simply making a different bet. If Vivienne heeds her warnings, and the Inquisition never achieves public favor, then Elodie’s advice was correct and Vivienne is indebted to her. If Vivienne heeds her warnings and the Inquisition does gain public acclaim, then Elodie has disrupted Vivienne’s opportunity for advancement, and she also wins. And if Vivienne does not heed her advice and the Inquisition remains a pariah, Elodie gets to watch Vivienne go down with it, smugly saying “I told you so.” Only if the Inquisition thrives and Vivienne with it does Elodie lose this bet—and Vivienne is clearly interested in seeing that outcome, and helping it come about.

The important thing is that the specifics of the accusations against the Inquisition are absolutely irrelevant here. This conspiracy theory about Justinia being secretly alive and the Left and Right Hand doing a sabotage to secure Chantry power—it’s all nonsense, and I doubt the Vicomtesse truly believes it. More critically, she likely does not care whether it is true. Repeating this rumor is just a means to a desired outcome.

If you’ve ever argued with a conspiracy theorist who seemed to simply change their position every time you backed them into a rhetorical corner, you may have realized that facts are largely ineffective at combating this sort of thing.

And of the three advisors, Cullen is the only one to get hung up on the content of the rumor, rather than its source and its purpose. Josephine and Leliana, seasoned players of the Game, both recognize this stupid rumor for what it is. Both of them ignore the substance of it and instead focus on its purpose: turning public opinion against the Inquisition. Josephine proposes to combat it by seeking noble favor elsewhere and leaving it to those allies to do the work of actually arguing against the rumors. Leliana is more interested in finding out with whom the rumor originated.

Leliana also makes the particularly savvy observation that if they were to combat the rumor by attempting to prove Justinia’s death, they would simply be providing their opponents more ammunition to use against them later. Leliana recognizes that “The Divine is alive, and you’re hiding her!” isn’t an earnest accusation, it’s bait. And if you take the bait, if you say, “Actually the Divine did die; here’s her remains to prove it,” then your enemies can say, “Aha! And how do you know she’s dead? It’s because you people killed her!” Or, best case scenario is they just bait you into wasting a lot of your time proving the accusation false, which is exactly what happens if you let Cullen take the bait.

Again, you might have had a similar experience if you’ve ever tried to “debate” a person whose strategy is making outrageous claims, letting you waste a lot of time earnestly debunking them, and then ignoring all your arguments and simply making another, equally outrageous claim.

In Cullen’s case, what happens is poor Knight-Captain Rylen is tasked with leading a field trip of Orlesian nobles through the grisly ruins of the Temple of Sacred Ashes, while asking them to please not touch the red lyrium, and no, you cannot take a charred corpse home as a souvenir, please milord I must ask you not to touch the red lyrium. I’m sure that was an excellent use of everyone’s time and resources.

But it’s easy to understand why Cullen responds this way! It’s a very instinctual and human response! “Well, you’ve just said a thing that is very obviously untrue. I’ll prove to you that it’s untrue! And this will solve the problem of you being wrong, and then we can all move forward together. Right?”

It’s an eminently reasonable response, so long as you assume that the other party is being reasonable and engaging with you in good faith.

Cullen assumes they are. Josephine and Leliana know they’re not. (Vivienne also knew this; hence her handing the letter over to Josephine to deal with instead of bothering to reply herself.)

And you can probably see how Cullen’s earnestness, his desire to believe that other people are also operating earnestly and in good faith, could lead him down some dangerous paths.

Knight-Commander Meredith was also a conspiracy theorist. The difference is that her conspiracy theories were about people she had near-absolute power over, with terrible consequences. And working under the authority of someone he wanted to believe in, someone he absolutely would have taken as entirely earnest (because in many ways she was earnest, at least in her belief that magic was dangerous and must be controlled), it would have been easy for Cullen to assume she must be acting in good faith, even when his misgivings arose. “She needs a spine of iron to survive her position,” he says to Hawke. And like anyone arguing in bad faith, Meredith could move the goalposts when it suited her. No signs of blood magic discovered? That only proves how well they’re hiding it. The tower must be searched top to bottom. The First Enchanter objects? He must be one of them. Dissent among her own templar ranks? Must be the blood magic controlling their minds. As Dan Olson puts it in his video In Search of a Flat Earth, conspiracy theories make facts subservient to outcomes, which is why the "facts" can easily be rearranged and discarded at will—all that matters is the actions those facts justify.

Of course Meredith’s beliefs were, again, quite different—more dangerous, and far more earnestly held than this silly Orlesian rumor about the Inquisition. She was also under the influence of red lyrium at the height of her paranoia. But conspiracy theories often feed on paranoia, and Meredith’s beliefs were still ultimately beliefs that could be bent to justify the outcome she (and her superior, Grand Cleric Elthina) desired: mages must be controlled, whatever the cost.

Cullen has managed to extricate himself from Meredith’s mindset. But he hasn’t yet learned, I think, that conspiracy theories and irrational beliefs can’t be overcome simply by reason. That’s also very understandable for someone in his position. When you’re in the process of overcoming some very wrong beliefs yourself, things you earnestly believed, it’s very natural to want to believe that everyone else is just as earnest and can be persuaded; in fact, you have a personal stake in believing that, because if other people can be redeemed, that means there’s hope for you.

Do I think this justifies the things Cullen was complicit in during his time as a templar, or any misguided opinions he may voice during his time with the Inquisition? No, that’s not why I’m saying all this. But I think it’s an interesting aspect of his character and one worth exploring. Cullen is often characterized as the blunt instrument advisor, his answer to most war table questions being “send troops”; in Josie’s words “the hammer for whom every problem looks like a nail.” But I think some of his offered solutions do offer compelling insights into his character, and this one certainly does—as well as an interesting example of how this approach to the world and other people can go wrong.

[tinykonig]

Ghost x reader headcannons

im so glad you guys are enjoying these??? i love making them and its helping me procrastinate finals :) as always these are written for afab, and sometimes include references feminine terms. if you like how i write for ghost, send me a lil request and i might turn it into something :)

NSFW indicated in post 🤍

Genuinely it takes fucking forever for Ghost to admit having feelings for you. He is in denial for soooo long

What finally makes him crack is getting critically injured on a mission and all he can think about is how he should have told you

He resolves to tell you once he comes to in the hospital. He figures it would be stupid to waste any more time

You come to see him and you think he doesn’t want you there because he can’t make eye contact with you and that’s rare for him

You just kind of awkwardly apologize for coming and turn to leave and he just barks out “Wait.”

When Ghost is getting something off his chest he gets it all out. So he’s just very bluntly telling you that you were all he could think about when he thought he was going to die and he doesn’t see the point in hiding how he feels any longer

At the end of his speech he looks at you and you are getting a little emotional and this motherfucker has the audacity to be like, “… why are you crying?”

Like you just spilled your heart out to me give me a break!!!

His entire body relaxes when you tell him you feel the same way. He didn’t even realize how tense he had been

You don’t leave his side until he’s recovered and able to fully function back to normal

He doesn’t say thank you with his words but rather his actions. His eyes tell you everything anyways

Sometimes he will glance around him to make sure no one else is watching and then just lift you into the most earth shatteringly wonderful hug

Puts you down after a few seconds and returns to whatever he was doing without a word. You grew used to this eventually

So protective. Like wont even let you walk on the side of the sidewalk thats closer to the road. Puts himself between you and any dangers

You will be his passenger princess. There is no way he lets you drive sorry thats his job, he looks damn good doing it so you dont mind

(holds your hand over the center console)

Big on acts of service. Does little domestic things for you like folds your laundry while you take a nap and offers to cook dinner every other day

Stares at you when you sleep. He thinks you look so angelic and peaceful and it makes him feel all warm inside but he’s definitely scared the shit out of you a few times

Not a fan of going out a lot. He’s a homebody when he’s not in the field

The best listener!!! He will offer advice when you ask for it or will just lend you sympathy when you don’t want advice

He does have his moments where he needs his space, and if you try to push him he can get mean

After he’s recharged and feeling back to normal he is touch. starved.

Likes to spoon, likes to watch movies with you in between his legs and laying on his chest, likes standing behind you while you are doing anything and just holding your hips

He always buries his face in your neck and just breathes deep. Could drown in your scent and be happy

It takes him awhile to remove his mask freely around you because its a feeling of vulnerability that just gnaws at him

He warms up to it over time and you see his face more and more often. Loves that you act the same either way

He has dimples (fist fight me if you disagree)

He can grow a killer beard, but trims it based on your preference because he doesn’t care either way

Very thoughtful with gifts and always remembers your birthday (sometimes forgets his own)

Knows your order for every restaurant and will make sure its correct and if its not he IS letting them know. How dare they

Literally mocks whatever accent you have constantly. Playfully but he’s brutal

If you are being stubborn he is not against just picking you up and slinging you across his shoulder

Sleeps like a rock this one

Likes to watch sports on tv and catches himself cheering his team on and then gets embarrassed (its so fucking cute)

If his mask is off and he sees any exposed part of your skin- he’s biting

And then going about his business like he didn’t just bite you???? So weird

NSFW BELOW THIS POINT

The biting happens in the bedroom too, specifically when he cums. Your neck will have teeth marks

Switch, switch, switch

His bedroom eyes are soo severe , he just gives you a single half lidded stare and your clothes are coming off

He loves to degrade you, he doesn’t talk a lot but when he does he is telling you how pathetic you look crying on his cock

Loves to be degraded too :) Whines if you call him pussy drunk (because he is)

A little rough but king of aftercare

Loves watching you come undone on his fingers. Has a thing for wearing his gloves when he fingers you

OVERSTIMULATION thats all

Against the wall is a specialty of Simons

Grunts a lot, growls sometimes when he is close

You go down on him and he sometimes lets go and moans

Always returns the favor

Doesn’t do quickies or risky places

Will do about anything else

[eldritch-spouse]

Prevarication

[Reader can be assumed neutral.]

TW: Body image issues; Yandere.

Hudd sits quietly in your vacant room.

He's not meant to be here, of course.

He has better things to do, now more than ever. This is utterly beneath him, every aspect of it.

In fact, ever since he met you, the historian has been tumbling down a flight of endless stairs leading him to an abyss of ruthless indignity. Truly, the demonoid believes that, if he doesn't miraculously find his footing amidst each painful tumble, it will only end with his pride shattered in a million microscopic pieces.

What's left of it anyway…

Hudsyn knew he didn't have much to begin with by the time he approached you. Because who even approaches a human for help? They're such helpless creatures on their own, almost entirely devoid of use in most situations. Stupid. Pointless. Active sophists, denialists, mendacious, perverters of truth-

It was a fool's gamble.

And Hudd tried before, past the wounds of people calling him insane at every turn, he tried to keep his chin up and hope that someone of minimal value would open their eyes, come to see that he pursues nothing but the most noble of goals.

Hope is fleeting however. He supposes he was also bankrupt on that by the time he had ventured to the surface. The surface… As much as it is filled with wondrous sites to explore, it's also deeply bothersome with its intense daylight. Days in Hell are a lot less visually stressful. Probably because there's no standard sun around the annexes, only magical imitations of a day cycle- Meaning the light Perdition inhabitants are exposed to is a lot less intense than raw sun rays. Past the shock of it, Hudsyn has to keep an even closer look on his robes, because it's hard to project facial features when a more potent source of light drowns out his own.

And, frankly, he looks garish enough, the last thing the demon needs is to look totally faceless to strangers.

Nevertheless, in retrospect, if Hudd had to guess what led him to you, it was probably a combo of hopelessness, physical stress, lack of self-respect… And, naturally, your vapid musing out loud.

He wanted to believe, desperately, for a second, that someone actually gave half as much of a shit as he did. In that moment, it didn't matter if you were human, demon, gargoyle- Fuck, you could have been a barely strung together ghoul, he would have still sprinted and sat beside you like a fumbling buffoon.

He regrets that day so much.

For fuck's sake, he's talking about it like it happened years ago when it hasn't even been a measly week… So why does it feel like Hudd's known you forever?

Sure, you said a few weird things to him that kind of put the historian at edge, you're a little weirdo, he has to concede, but you're what he's been desperately craving for all this time. A pair of functioning ears with a decently working brain between them- Someone who respects him! Who cares, who's minimally knowledgeable, critical of everything that's taken as gospel or, at the very least, willing to learn better. Willing to understand that his time is valuable and his findings even more so.

You're a gem.

Hudsyn knows he disappeared on you the day you met. And even if what you did weirded him out, on its own it wouldn't be enough to make him leave. He's seen weirder people with much less harmless quirks. No, he was nervous then. Anxious. He needed to leave sooner or later, because there was too much on his mind.

There's always too much on his mind.

But that was a different type of information. One Hudd couldn't neatly file away in organized categories, picking and plucking and flipping at it to crack secrets out. That was personal, deep, hit him in places he didn't really know how to handle. It was chaos. You made him feel chaotic, impulsive and intense in ways that had exactly zero in common with the hysteria he can sometimes fall into in the midst of his work.

It took mountains of effort for the demonoid not to reach out and touch you. In fact, he had been trying to put space between you all that time to keep himself grounded, even when you seemed receptive to more contact, when you tried to start flirting, for whatever reason. Why would you flirt with him? In truth, Hudsyn just wanted to feel your hair. He wanted to touch your cheek and place your hand in yours. It's small. You're small. Small enough to hold, he's sure of it. He would have liked to. Maybe kiss you. His mouth… Well, you wouldn't enjoy it.

Point is, you remind him of how lonely he is. Sure, better alone than with bad company, but now that he's met someone whose company is not just tolerable but enjoyable, he doesn't really want to be apart from you anymore. It's depressing.

Hudd knew what was happening to him by the time he got over his own shaking to seek you out again. He had deviated from his work just to speak with that little human again… He knew, he knew he was falling into something destructive- But he also had to, because if the demonoid didn't, then he'd just be thinking about you day and night in a rut, brain muddled and knotting itself into a ball.

He doesn't regret it.

You were… So nice to him.

Offered him tea.

Said his eyes were pretty. You idiot, they're hardly eyes to begin with.

Said he was well-spoken.

Said he was cultured.

That you could listen to him for a whole day.

And his heart just fluttered so incredibly hard that Hudd could feel his fur stand on end. It wasn't the only thing that wanted to stand, given your choice of wardrobe, but that's beyond the matter.

Was that a date? Was that your first date? Sure, Hudsyn invited himself into your living space, but you reacted so well, you looked at him so enraptured by his speech… That was a date. Some kind of date. And it went very well. Enough so that he can feel himself smiling at the thought of repeating the experience.

He hopes you smile at the concept too.

As memories flood him, the historian feels himself shiver again. It's more of a rattle, the short fur on his form bristling with the sincerity of his emotions. Hudd wonders if you'd ever willingly invite him into your bedroom, or if he's just continuing to poke where he doesn't belong. He's always been good at that.

How different would that bizarre night have been if he had gotten over his own trance and said something bolder? If you had taken him by the hand, or even the horns, and led him to your bed? Which he coincidentally sits upon now.

Would you say you wanted him?

Maybe it's far-fetched, but Hudsyn likes to imagine you would. After all the rules he's broken and the punishments be carries, Hudd desperately wants to think you'd look at his body and call it beautiful. The same way you described his eyes. Or, at the very least, that you'd look past his blemishes and accept his affections.

He's not pretty like you.

He did look good before, but those days are gone, shelved, covered in dust and cobwebs and all the resentment his heart can hold- He hates beauty in others.

But it's tolerable in you. Because your beauty is the perfect type. The natural one. It shows in all parts of your human figure and he's sure the envious must burn to a crisp at the sight of you, the ones that can decipher that perfection for what it really is.

Hudsyn gets images of you sprawled on this very same bed, your hair disheveled and the same pajamas you wore that night slipping away from your soft skin. You don't care that it's revealing, don't care that you're teasing him, you're just that comfortable. He sees his own pale, bleached hands dragging the fabric down further, greedy for more- And his imagination is so vivid he swears he feels the heat of your skin on his knuckles, the pliant molding of your body as you stretch lazily and part your legs, giving him a view that-

Hudd groans.

His robes shift, and the fantasy dies immediately.

Because if you can't get over his blemishes then you'll certainly never come to accept his genitals. Just feeling his exterior protrusions -He doesn't know what to call them, they're not claspers or tendrils, but they move and swell- Pulse is a painful reminder that he's packing something very weird, and not just by human standards. You wouldn't want that. But that doesn't mean he can't fool himself.

By the time he feels his cock unfurl and poking at the top of his slit, the demonoid huffs, resigning himself to his self-inflicted predicament and lifting his robes out of the way. His dick emerges faster than ever before, probably because he's been in a dry spell for way too long- He likes to keep track of things, but as the years passed, Hudsyn grew a little too embarrassed to keep doing so in this regard.

It's a dark grayish member that curves firmly upwards, thin but long enough to make some men jealous. Hudd pulses, it's not a throb, he can see his own member contract and dilate as if he's going to lay something. But Hudsyn doesn't lay eggs. Maybe he was meant to, and something went wrong, he's not sure. He doesn't care. Beneath his strangely flexible dick, his clit perks and his pussy clenches, starting to make a mess of your sheets.

Yeah, a human might say he's uh- Kinda fucky.

Beyond his own self-awareness, the historian entertains the idea that you might, by a small miracle, react positively to his package. That you'd reach out, on your knees -Because really, that's a human's place in the end. Since the dawn of time, your race has been nothing but a toy- And use your mouth to show your appreciation towards Hudd. Because his time is valuable, and you're a generous little human, aren't you?

What part of him would you want first?

Maybe you'd go for his cock, he hums while looping a hand over his own length, tugging it leisurely from root to tapered tip, imagining it's your small hand, that you'd tongue at his end and try to take him into your throat- Failing, naturally. He's too much for most, but you'd keep attempting anyway, gagging and drooling viscerally, just to please him. Hudsyn shudders, panting in the quiet of your room.

Or, perhaps, you'd service his cunt. It's been so long since he's had anything inside him, your sweet tongue would do just fine, your fingers, your perfect unblemished digits curling into all those wonderful spots while you suck his clit and pump his cock and pop back just to moan how happy you are that he gave you the time of day-

Hudsyn makes a raspy croak of pleasure, arching on your bed like a slut in heat, eyes closed, one hand fisting his shaft furiously and the other filling his pussy. Who is he fucking kidding anymore? You could bend him over in two, he might almost beg for more.

It should be him thanking you.

For listening to him.

Finding him interesting.

Letting him converse with you even when he invaded your home.

Hudd needs to thank you for making sure his pride doesn't wilt completely. Beyond all his denial, all his mixed feelings, he knows that to be the truth.

He feels accomplished around you. Apt. Intelligent.

Wanted.

And fuck, he wants you ten times more. He wants his sweet mentee right at his side. Forever.

The image of you mouthing a tender "I love you" against his soaked cunt and moving up to kiss his length, lacing your hand with his, hits Hudd like lightning.

He doesn't know what shape he's contorting into, horns tearing into your poor sheets and that stump of a tail swatting around as his thighs flex and he orgasms harder than he could ever expect, snarling.

Thankfully, most of the monster's cum falls on his own stomach and robes, this pearly white mess that's going to matt his fur if he doesn't take care of it soon. Still, all Hudd's worried about is riding out the last of his high, fingers still pumping and dick twitching, oozing.

When Hudsyn's minimally coherent, he can only bask in his own shame, clarity chiding him. Mild panic rises in the demonoid's chest when he notices the very suspicious wet spots on your bed.

Fuck.

Now what?

The sound of keys turning has the historian almost squealing in distress.

Hudd jumps off your bed, still exposed and dripping and trembling with aftershocks. He strips his robes fully, crumples them into a gross ball, then throws them out your window.

Just before you can push the door to your bedroom open, he whimpers and vanishes into thin air.

…

It smells kinda funny in here.

[2knightt]

I saw that your requests are open and this idea came to me after a little ✨️incident ✨️

if you dont feel like writing this i completely understand, but how do you think the gang would react if you came to them upset because of an arguement/disagreement with your sibling or relative? I'm just looking for some comfort rn cause I overheard my family insulting me behind my back last night and I've been bothered ever since

it can be platonic or romantic idrc 😭

↳maybe it’s a cruel joke on me.₊˚✧

—IN WHICH, the gang comforts reader.

||✰ — the gang, separately

Johnny Cade ;

you rush out of the house after your sibling raised their voice at you—not bothering to stick around just to see the situation grow.

you felt tears trickle in the corners of your eyes as you walk to the lot, praying that your boyfriend would be there.

you knew he would be, he always was.

you finally reached the lot, your feet feeling like 1000 pounds after each step you take.

you stand there for a moment, your fists stuffed inside your pockets, looking around.

you see johnny sitting down with his head leaning against a wall.

you had stopped crying earlier, but seeing him made you wanna cry more.

you ran over to him, kneeling down beside him—throwing your arms around his neck.

you pull him into a hug, hiding your face in his neck.

you feel him wrap his arms around your waist. he stutters a few words before whispering in a soft voice, talking to you like you’re a baby.

“hey, hey. y/n, what happened?”

you sniffle, the grasp you have around him tightening.

“n-not to tight, love.”

you realize you’d been squeezing him like it was the last thing you were ever gonna do.

“sorry. i didn’t mean to.”

johnny’s thumb began to flutter—up and down on your back, trying to comfort you.

“it’s fine, y/n.”

the both of you are silent for a minute, neither of you wanting to speak.

“it’s okay. you’ll be okay, y/n.”

he didn’t even know what happened and yet, he’s still trying to help.

“my sibling man. the-they think they’re so much better than me.”

his grip on you tightens for a moment, trying to let you know that he’s there for you.

“it’s alright. you’re alright. they ain’t mean it.”

“but they did, johnny. you weren’t there, man. shouted at me, made me feel so stupid!”

you complain, your voice straining the more you speak.

“you ain’t stupid. not even close. smarter than i’ll ever be, shoot.”

johnny goes silent. thinking of the right words, how to put what he’s thinking into a way you’d understand.

“what they said don’t matter. as long as you’re okay—everyone will be okay. your sibling loves you still, i know they do. stuff like this happens all the time.”

johnny kisses the crown of your head before he continues with his rant.

“you still care about them, right? even if it’s one sided, you’ll be alright. any sort of relationship with your sibling—you’ll be alright. everything is gonna be just fine.”

Dallas Winston ;

you scoffed, listening to your siblings rant.

the more they talked, the less sense they made.

they jumped from topic to topic—criticizing you for things you did years ago.

you just couldn’t take it anymore. you walked out of the house, hearing them shout your name as you got into your car.

you drove and drove until you couldn’t see your house anymore. you pulled into an empty parking lot and sat in silence.

suddenly, your whole world came crashing down—realization hitting you so suddenly.

tears stream down your face, your body shaking with every passing second.

you needed someone to just be with you.

you needed dallas.

you took a few minutes to calm down before driving, taking deep breaths in and out.

you drive off to bucks. you knew he was having a party, should be easy to sneak in.

you park the car and rush out, swinging the door open.

a few people turn to look at you, but quickly focus back on drinking or their friends. you run upstairs, tunnel visioned in on the room dally’s usually in.

the door’s closed, which normally means he’s napping. you knock on the door.

you hear groaning, followed by bed springs squeaking. the door opens slightly, dallas peaking out into the hallway—suspicious of whoever was knocking.

but as soon as his eyes met yours, the door opened fully and he carefully rushed you into the room.

you figure your eyes must still be red from crying because he looks at you with both worry and anger.

he gently lays his palm on your cheek, bringing your eyes to meet his.

“what happened? did anyone do this?”

you glance down at your feet, not wanting to answer.

dallas exhales with obvious frustration.

“c’mon doll. you can tell me.”

you lean your head against his chest, silent until this moment.

“my siblin’. they never listen—no matter how much i try to change, no matter how much i do. i’m always some stupid kid.”

you mumble, your voice cracking mid sentence.

dallas sighs. he wraps an arm around your waist, the other one going to your head, gently holding it.

“i mean. i can beat ‘em up if you want me to.”

you giggle—well, tried too. your voice was so strained, you were silent.

“dallas.”

“yeah yeah, i know. i’m, ‘better than that.’”

he mocks past you as he rests his chin on top of your head.

“you can stay ‘ere if you want.”

he suggests, with slight hope in his voice.

“stay far away from ‘em for awhile. i don’t want them to start on you again.”

you smile at his words—feeling a sense of comfort and relaxation washing over you.

“yeah. sounds nice, dal.”

Ponyboy Curtis ;

you couldn’t handle hearing their voice any longer.

the genuine anger in their voice made you wanna sob.

you rolled your eyes the longer your siblings rant went on.

you kissed your teeth, tears slowly forming in your eyes as you waved goodbye.

your sibling was beyond angry as you ran out the door, but they knew they couldn’t stop you.

you ran and ran, your legs feeling like they’d never get tired. adrenaline making you go faster than you ever had.

you were barely conscious as you ran, allowing your body to take you wherever.

but when the adrenaline ran out, you found yourself outside of the curtis house.

the waterworks started again as you stared at the window. the curtains were closed but you saw light inside.

you caught your breath before stepping up the front porch.

you stood infront of the door, hoping it was ponyboy who’d answer the door. you knocked quietly, glancing down at the mat.

the door opens and your head shoots up, meeting a pair of green eyes.

“y/n?”

“oh, pony.”

you whisper as your eyebrows contorted into a sad look as you threw your arms around his shoulders.

he was taken aback by your face and the sudden affection, pony stumbles back slightly.

he gently wrapped his arms around your neck, trying to bring comfort.

“what’s wrong? did something happen? are you alright?”

he asks, his words coming out faster and faster each second.

you’re silent for what seemed like minutes.

“my sibling, pony. they refuse to listen! they don’t bother to listen to anyone! it-it’s so annoying. can’t take it anymore, man.”

you whisper, taking a shaky breath after finishing your rant.

you thought pony of all people could understand, especially with darry and all.

you started to cry again—even you didn’t know why.

you sniffled as ponyboy rocked both of your bodies side to side.

“breath, y/n. please—i don’t want you to freak out to much.”

you hadn’t even realized you were hyperventilating.

ponyboy grabbed your shoulders and looked into your eyes with a concerned look. he looked like he was gonna cry himself.

“do what i’m doin’, alright?”

he asks of you as be started to breath in, hold it in for a moment, and exhale.

you did the same for a few minutes. your tears coming to an end, along with your hyperventilation.

“it’s gonna be okay, y/n. shoot—me and darry go through that almost daily and we still love each other. i-i bet that this’ll be over soon. you n them were the closest siblings if i’ve ever seen one.”

he said, grabbing ahold of your hand.

he smiled, hoping you’d follow his actions once more.

you tried to smile, but gave a lazy one in return.

he wrapped you into another hug, kissing your cheek before doing so.

“you’re gonna be alright.”

“you think so?”

“i know so.”

Sodapop Curtis ;

you heard your aunt mock you for being a grease.

she was always so materialistic. not even your mom liked her but—she always came over.

you heard her mock the way you dresses, talked, walked, everything.

you felt so low. like you were some tiny germ in her world.

you wanted comfort, but you knew you couldn’t go to your mom. you couldn’t go to any of your family.

then you thought of soda. sodapop shouldn’t be busy today.

you climbed out of your window, not wanting to even be in the same room as your aunt.

you walked to the curtis house, peeking into the window as you walk by—seeing darry sitting down on his chair.

you really don’t want to talk to him right now. you didn’t want to talk to anyone but sodapop.

you walk up to his window and knocked lightly.

his curtains swung open and he opened the window in a swift motion.

“babe! what’s up?”

“..can i come in?”

“uh, totally! you ain’t even gotta ask!”

he responds with a smile so wide that it couldn’t help but make you feel soft.

you plopped down on his bed, flat on your back as you sigh.

soda gets a confused look as he tilts his head.

“what’s wrong, y/n? you’re awfully quiet.”

“do you think i’m a lowlife, soda?”

you ask, staring up at the ceiling. tears slowly forming in your eyes, sliding down your cheeks onto the blanket.

soda goes silent before sitting down next to you.

he grabs your hand and kisses it, mumbling something you couldn’t hear.

“if you’re a lowlife then i gotta be satan himself, love.”

he responds with a chuckle as he lays down beside you.

“what makes you ask, anyhow?”

he asks, turning his head to face you, still holding your hand.

“my aunt jus—said some stuff ‘bout me. made me feel a lil stupid.”

he squeezes your hand and looks up at the ceiling along with you.

“don’t you ever think like that again. no matter what anyone says, kay? you’re the sweetest person i’ve ever known! shoot—i don’t think there’s ever been a grease as nice as you.”

he rambles, bringing both your hands up to the sky, as if a sign of victory.

you smile, sitting up as you stare down at soda.

he makes eye contact with you, shooting up to sit alongside you.

there are still tears in the corner of your eyes, but they refuse to fall. soda grabs your chin to bring you closer to him, kissing the tears off your face.

“can’t let those tears ruin your pretty little face now, can we?”

he asks, with a cat like grin on his face.

you giggle, throwing him into a hug.

Darry Curtis ;

your uncle had come ‘round for a visit, gonna catch up with the family he said.

but all he did with you was make snide remakes at you or behind your back.

calling you a nobody, someone who’d never make it far in life.

he doesn’t know what you’ve gone through. he just sees the aftermath, not the past, not the present. just the person you want to throw away—the future you don’t want.

he brought you down so much, you found yourself at the bottom of a bottle.

you were outside the curtis house on the porch, drinking.

you always sit out there, nobody even bats an eye at you when you’re out there anymore.

it was late at night when you were out there. darry wasn’t home, you said goodnight to pony and soda—even johnny who was staying the night.

you didn’t want any of them to know you’re back into alcohol for comfort. you waited until you were alone.

you grabbed a few bottles and sat out in the porch, drinking and drinking.

you thought you were gonna waste yourself until the morning—hoping you could act sober around darry.

headlights blinded your vision as darrys truck pulled into the driveway.

you had a bottle up to your lips as he parked the vehicle. you started to freak out as you heard him shout your name, trying to hide the bottles under the bench.

“y/n? you better not be doing what i think you are.”

you hear him shout as he makes his way up the stairs. you pray that the bottles don’t roll from under the bench.

you shake your head, trying to straighten out your posture.

“nah, dare. yo-you know i changed.”

you defend yourself, trying to act sober but accidentally slurring your words.

you hear darry sigh as he pinches his nose bridge.

he sits down, turning his body to face you.

“i’m not a idiot, y/n.”

he says, bending down, grabbing one of the bottles.

“are you serious? i thought you sobered up.”

he complains, his elbows resting on his knees as he looks down at the bottle.

“i did! it’s just…it got tough again.”

you mumble, looking down at your feet with shame.

darry places his hand on top of yours. you look at him, making eye contact with him.

“what happened then? what happened that would make you turn back to this?”

he asks quietly, his eyebrows furrowed.

you could hear the disappointment laced in his voice the more he spoke.

“i was called a drunkard, a nobody, someone who’d never make it far in life. do you know how draining it is to hear that?”

you ask, tears already gliding down your cheek. your head is thrown back, hands covering your eyes as you erupt into sobs.

darry grabs your wrists, bringing your hands down. he let go, and placed his hands on your temples. he brought you closer to him, kissing your forehead before whispering sweet nothings—trying to make you feel better.

“what anyone says shouldn’t bother you none, y/n. all that matters is that you are you and i love you for you. i love your laugh, i love how caring you are, i love how you try to change for the better.”

darry mumbles, kissing your forehead every now and then in between his words.

he brings you to his chest. the two of you sit in silence. you listen to his heartbeat as the moon shines directly upon you two.

Steve Randle ;

you’re sibling had called you an idiot, a stupid loser, and so much more right to your face.

right in front of you. not even trying to hide it.

you pretended not to care, you pretended like it didn’t hurt as you walked to the nearest pay phone, you lied to yourself as you pressed steves number into the pay phone.

but still—even with all that convincing, you still didn’t believe you.

the phone rung and rung until he finally answered.

“whatchu want? who is this?”

“steve? oh thank god!”

you sighed with relief, slightly chuckling at your own demise.

“y/n! what’s up?”

he asks, trying to see why you’re calling him through a pay phone rather than your own phone.

“can you come and pick me up? i’ll be at the gas station!”

“the DX?”

“no-no. not the DX, the other one.”

“oh, totally. sit tight, doll.”

he says before you hang up.

you walk to the gas station which wasn’t to far. you sit on the bench, watching the cars go by. it was quiet for a bright afternoon. maybe everyone was at the beach, or seeing a movie.

you think to yourself as you see steves beat up car pull up to the curb right in front of you.

he rolls down the window, shouting for you to get in.

you rush up to the passenger door and swing it open, sitting down.

steve begins to drive off. he always just drives ‘till he run outta gas or gets tired.

“so,”

“so?”

you asked. steve began to speak but stopped mid-way. you always hated when anyone did that.

“why’d you need me to pick you up there? you look…sad.”

and that was your cue to start crying.

you didn’t mean to. you didn’t even feel the tears until you noticed spots of your pants had tear droplets on them.

steve had noticed you crying and pulled over to the side of the road.

he started to freak out a little—he never knew how to handle anyone crying.

“woah—y/n, what’s wrong? did i say something?”

he asks, leaning over to get closer to you.

you wiped your tears with the back of your hand, shaking your head.

“then why’re you cryin’?”

“steve, do you think i’m stupid? be honest.”

his eyebrows furrowed at your question, he almost laughed at such an idiotic thing to ask.

“hell nah. i mean, you see shepard? he’s so dumb he can’t tell up from down!”

he shouts, trying to comfort you.

you laugh slightly, the grasp you have onto the loose fabric of your pants loosening.

“you think?”

“i know, y/n.”

he whispers, kissing your temple before leaning back onto the drivers seat.

steve puts his hand on your thigh, his thumb caressing it in a comforting manner.

“how ‘bout i treat you to some food, huh? try n take your mind off that absolute nonsense you were talkin’.”

you nod your head in agreement.

Two-bit Matthews ;

your sibling had shit on you for everything under the sun.

looks, grades, how you spoke, how you walked, friends, boyfriend, shoot—even the way you brush your teeth.

you started tearing up during their rant. thought it was stupid to criticize everything you do.

the second they were done, you walked out. made sure to slam the door on the way out to make it known that you left, that you left angry and sad.

you thought of two-bit the whole walk.

did he think of that about you? does he think he could do better? does he think you smell funny?

it was 9PM, so two-bit would probably be at some gas station trying to get some booze.

you walk to his normal gas station where he has the most luck and you were right. he was leaning on the counter, laughing while the worker had a stern look on his face with his arms crossed.

you walked in and tapped two-bit on the shoulder.

“wh-oh! hey, babe.”

he greeted you with a grin and a kiss on the cheek.

“can i talk to you?”

two-bit got an awkward smile but nonetheless—agreed.

the two of you exited the store, but as soon as he stepped out of the door, you pulled him into a hug.

the sobs started again as you held him tightly.

two-bit was silent.

he was never good at comforting others, but he tried.

he always tried for you.

“shh, shh. it’s okay—i’m here. you’re just fine.”

he says, wrapping his arm around your waist, rocking the two of you left to right.

he kissed your temple, the crown of your head, to your forehead until you stopped crying.

“do you, do you ever think you can do better, two?”

you ask in a quiet voice, looking down at your shoes.

“what? never! infact, i think you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me!”

he says, picking you up and swinging you around some.

you gotta admit, you laughed a little with tears still streaming down your face.

“why do you ask? who i gotta beat, huh?”

he asks, putting you down.

“nothin’ it was stupid.”

“you sure?”

“yeah.”

he kisses your cheek, his arms still wrapped around your waist.

“how ‘bout we go n bother that worker together, huh? bet we can steal the whole store if we tried hard enough.”

two-bit says with a grin, finally letting go of your waist.

you get a smile on your face at the thought of it. you nod in excitement as two-bit drags you back into the store. the two of you leaning against the counter, grinning from ear to ear.

i know we dont know each other that well but just know, i’m always here for you. no matter the situation im here for you!

[antianakin]

Am I the only one who just lost any and all love for newer Star Wars material due to Jedi hate ? Like- the only merch or show or even FANDOM topic I get involved in is clone wars stuff and MAYBE TBB. Like- why would I want the watch shows who attempt to rewritte canon and portray the very heroes of Star Wars as the bad guys ?

Why would I want to watch shows that assassinate characters left and right (looking at you, Ahsoka and Sabine) ? Why would I want to buy merch of characters who I not only NOT care about, but who also are used as meta mouthpieces for stupid Jedi hate ?

I think there's TONS of good newer Star Wars material, to be honest.

I loved the Kenobi show and it is arguably one of the most pro Jedi pieces of media to have existed since the Prequels films. Aside from one itty bitty somewhat awkward word choice in one line of one episode, there is absolutely NOTHING in that show that can be used to indict the Jedi or blame them for anything and it is arguably one of the only shows to really spend time MOURNING the Jedi and recognizing the horror of what was done to them. Rebels comes closest after this, but its structure makes it a little less visceral than the Kenobi show was to me.

I really adore Visions and I recognize that this is sort-of Star Wars adjacent more than anything else, but SO LITTLE truly understands what makes Star Wars compelling as a story and really hits on those primary themes the way that Visions does. There's SO MUCH Jedi content in Visions and I remember people complaining about how much Jedi content was in Visions and other people responding that if you were given free reign to just play in the Star Wars sandbox with near zero restrictions on what you could make with it, you would probably ALSO immediately go for the psychic space wizards with laser swords. Who WOULDN'T? Visions also just genuinely has some of the most engaging and heart-wrenching stories to come out of Star Wars in a LONG while and it does it in these beautifully animated 15 minute packages. It's such a gem and I am so glad to be alive at the same time as Visions.

Rogue One is older now, but both Rogue One and Andor, despite having zero actual Jedi in them, really hinge on the themes from the Prequel trilogy about the tragedy in the Star Wars universe, stepping up when no one else will, choosing to be selfless and compassionate for the greater good, etc. Faith and hope are MASSIVE themes within these two works and even though there aren't any space wizards, good or evil, in either story, they feel like some of the most pro Jedi things Star Wars has come out with in a while based on thematic messages ALONE.

The Mandalorian's first two seasons actually have this absolutely BEAUTIFUL story about the selfless sacrifice of one man as he gives up everything in order to help this child find his way back to the culture he'd been ripped from. Everything AFTER that regarding Grogu and Din's storyline is a piece of shit (it's not explicitly anti-Jedi or anything, but it undoes a lot of the things that made their story so compelling and beautiful), but the first two seasons are genuinely GOOD and very pro Jedi in a lot of ways despite the lack of many actual Jedi characters.

The Book of Boba Fett is a terrible show for a LOT of reasons, but shockingly none of them have anything to do with its treatment of the Jedi. If it ever ends up with a season two, I desperately hope they leave Mace Windu's name the fuck out of it, but at this point it is a pretty Jedi neutral show if you're willing to deal with the rest of its bullshit.

Rebels is also somewhat older now, and it has a few lines here and there that are a tad more Jedi critical, but it is by and large VERY Jedi positive and does also follow a lot of the themes of selflessness and sacrifice that go along with being a Jedi. It also has themes of mercy and patience and facing your fears in Sabine's storyline that got entirely thrown away in her later storyline. Just thought that was worth pointing out. For reasons.

TBB is also fairly Jedi neutral, but its treatment of the clones is basically the clone version of being anti Jedi, so I'm not sure it's actually any better. It just traded hating on the Jedi to hating on the clones, and I find that just as distasteful.

I can't really speak to things like comics and novels much since I don't tend to consume them really. I've read a few of the adult novels in the High Republic Phase I and the first one was genuinely very good, but there were some relatively heavy-handed Jedi critical themes within the third book of Phase I (The Fallen Star) that put me off of it a little. I haven't continued into Phase II or III at all, so I have no idea if those themes got continued in later books. I've heard generally good things about the Padawan book, I think.

The Cal Kestis video games, Fallen Order and Survivor, also have their small Jedi critical moments, but much like Rebels, it has these massive overarching themes and messages about compassion and selflessness and sacrifice and facing your fears and mercy. They are immensely Jedi positive in a lot of ways and I really enjoyed both of them.

So out of everything I have seen (and know about) the only stuff that's truly heinously and insultingly anti-Jedi is the Ahsoka show, the Acolyte, and Tales of the Jedi. Three shows and like 30% of one book. Out of a list of like ten different shows and one film and some books and video games. It's not even really HALF of the content we've been getting recently.

A lot of people talk about the Disney era like it's ruined Star Wars, or like nothing it releases has ever been good. But it just straight up isn't true. It's a little insulting to all of the genuinely wonderful work that is being done by all of these other creators to just brush aside everything that's been coming out recently as awful and bad because some of the MOST recent things have been pretty explicitly hateful towards the Jedi. It's not fun that we had the Ahsoka show immediately followed by the Bad Batch followed by the Acolyte. I hate that, too, it feels like we're on this neverending shitshow of stories explicitly aimed at hating a group of characters for no obvious good reason. But I don't think that the last 6 months or so of bullshit should overshadow some of the really beautiful stories we HAVE gotten within the last several years.

If you feel like things are getting difficult, maybe do a "good Star Wars" marathon of sorts. Watch the Prequels, followed by the Kenobi show, then Andor, then Rebels, then Rogue One, then the Original trilogy. This one long beautiful story of people stepping up to fight against selfishness and greed and darkness no matter what.

Or go rewatch Visions or read some of your favorite fanfics and remember all the things about Star Wars that are just universally cool and compelling across the world. Hell, you can try writing something of your own! Anything! A lot of my AU concepts stemmed from spite and really helped me feel a little bit better about Star Wars when it sometimes felt like I was just surrounded by the parts of it I liked the least. Go buy yourself a cool t-shirt or some fun jewelry. Find some pretty stickers and put it on a water bottle or an enamel pin to put on a canvas tote bag or a corkboard.

Curating your fandom experience goes beyond just the internet. There's a reason I am boycotting the Acolyte and it isn't because I think Disney or its creators are going to care at all. I'm doing it for ME, because I had such a shitty time watching the Ahsoka show and it made me so miserable each week that I seriously think I will be better off just leaving it the hell alone and just absorbing whatever ends up crossing my dash from a distance. I only participate in Star Wars fandom servers that I feel safe in and only really get into discussions with personal friends who I know well. If participating in Star Wars fandom is making you sad, maybe take a step back or find a way to create your own corner of fandom that feels better. Ignore the damn Ahsoka show, pretend it never existed. Ignore the Acolyte. Ignore Tales of the Jedi. Ignore Filoni-related bullshit. Focus on the parts you DO like, or give yourself the space to remember why you liked it in the first place.