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yan-lorkai · 10 months

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.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ Yan!Vil with homesick!reader

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ A/n: Been in soft vil moods this past days so I wrote this lol.

Being in a different world is hard, it's scary. And the worst of it is feeling alone even if there are people by your side every day. This is exactly how you've been feeling these last few days, lost and without a path, without a clue and without any progress. The idea of returning to your world disappears from your head more and more, it seems more distant and impossible.

You wonder what the people most important to you think of what happened. Do they think you ran away? Are they still looking for you even after all these months?

"Prefect, shouldn't you be sleeping at this time?"

Vil's strict but soft voice sounded behind you. And you look at him, trying to read his expressions, but there's nothing on his face that lets you know how he feels or what he thinks. You can only imagine how intriguing the scene from his point of view must be. You sitting on the ground next to Ramshackle's front door as you look out over the yard and think about everything you've left behind, annoying tears drying in your eyes.

If only Tsunotaro had shown up today, maybe your melancholy thoughts wouldn't have troubled you so much that you couldn't sleep. And maybe now Vil wouldn't be looking at you that way, as if scolding a child.

"Prefect, I await an answer." He crouched down beside your, carefully wiping away your tears with his fingertips. "Why are you out here in the cold and crying? Why didn't you come to me or the others?"

You shrugged. In NRC, there is an unspoken rule that nobody truly cares about your problems. And well, they're all villains, so it's not like you really want to share your feelings with them without the fear that someone will laugh.

But it's also not like no one will understand your pain. At least not completely, they all had a family to go back to during the holidays, they all had their parents and siblings close by who they could count on in the most difficult times. You only had Grim and he only had you; you two were literally two in one in every sense of the word.

"It just got something in my eye." You lied not caring what he thought, brushing his hand away. You and Vil only interacted during VDC rehearsals, so it's not like you were friends and it bothered you that he was there for you during a fragile moment. "Don't worry about me, I'll be right back to my room. I just needed some air."

A sound of disbelief left Schoenheit and he cupped your face with both hands in a quick gesture, caressing your cheeks and looking deep into your eyes.

"Potato, I can see you're not feeling good." He whispered.

It was true. It was true and for you to hear him say it out loud confirmed that normality had slipped through your fingers and that you really were in a strange world, this wasn't some kind of strange dream. The look so soft in his lilac eyes, the way he caressed your cheeks and pulled you into a hug was all you needed to let the tears roll and the sobs escape your throat.

Maybe even someone strict like him had some sympathy in his heart. His hands gently rubbed your back as he whispered words of comfort, feeling you shiver in his arms. And the scene broke his heart. But your teary eyes certainly were a beautiful sight, not even the most beautiful pictures taken by Rook could compare to you.

"I miss home." You confessed, quiet, fearful.

The hug tightened and you hid your face in his neck, you never wanted to feel that way again and at the same time you wanted to feel everything. Feeling was one of the only things you could do and missing everything gave you the necessary determination to keep surviving one more day in this strange world.

"It's understandable that you feel that way," Vil muttered. "But, you know, there are ways to alleviate this longing and feel closer to the people we love, even though we are far away."

You looked at Vil curiously, frowning at what you had just heard. Whatever solution he was going to offer, you knew it wouldn't be enough to ease the pain you felt. Still he continued, combing your hair with his fingers. "Write a letter to each person you miss and then burn it, I hear it can help ease the weight you feel."

You looked at him in disbelief and that drew a laugh from Vil who watched your reactions. "Another thing that can help a lot is to create a routine, something that you do every day that makes you feel closer to home. If you liked to listen to music or read at home, do that here. It can give you a feeling of comfort and familiarity."

You nodded and thanked him for sharing these tips, even though a pessimistic part of your brain doubted any of them would work. Yet you were grateful for his intentions and saw him in a new light from that moment on.

Vil then placed his hand over your heart. "Remember that you are not alone and that there are people who care about you, they're all right there."

You smiled once more.

Oh, if you had noticed that peculiar glint in his eyes…

"Thanks, really, I'll think about it." You promised, pulling away from the hug and the hands that massaged your shoulders, feeling like a weight was lifted off your shoulders just by having someone by your side.

Except Vil hates sharing your attention and he would take up every bit of your time because only he could take care of you and love you the way you deserve.

You got up and offered your hand to help him up, then wishing him a good night. Surely you would sleep that night with one less worry, you weren't alone. You had Grim, Ace and Deuce by your side. And… A part of you mind added a new face to the people you felt you could trust, Vil as well.

#yandere twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland #twst #twst vil #twst vil schoenheit #yandere vil #yandere vil schoenheit #yandere vil x reader #yandere vil x yuu #yandere vil x mc #vil x reader #vil x yuu #vil x mc #tw yandere

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outofangband · 1 year

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Taking a quick detour from my posts about Aerin post Nírnaeth and later, at the time of Brodda’s death in The Children of Húrin to briefly post about Aerin at Brodda’s death in The Book of Lost Tales version

Important context: as I talked about most recently here, the BoLT version is notable in this regard because Brodda was in that version not a foreign invader but Húrin’s kinsman who had been given land and power by his household before and after the Nírnaeth but quickly became tyrannical. This is the version with the cows I am always vagueing about

That being said he’s still noted for cruelty and still clearly treats Aerin very badly (I was actually struck at how grim the brief description of her marriage was, if anything it uses even darker language than the Narn)

So on that note warning for abuse

Aerin in BoLT is called Airin but I am going to refer to her as Aerin throughout this because I like it more and it's similar enough that I don't think that the name differences are significant in this case. (She’s actually also called Airin of the long hair. No explanation of this description is given)

Great was the company that night and the light of many torches fell upon them but the Lady Airin was not there for men drank overmuch at Brodda’s feasts and their songs were fierce and quarrels blazed about the hall, and those things she loved not

Aerin is not actually present for the death in this version. Túrin kills Brodda in a moment of temper, after discovering how he betrayed Húrin and then robbed Morwen. When Aerin enters he is unable to say much to her, distraught.

Aerin tells him quickly that he should be worried for himself, not her. The general consensus from the people of Hador seems to be that they have little sympathy for Brodda and say he lived and died as a thief. But they are also not particularly sympathetic to Túrin.

What's so interesting to me here is that Aerin has significantly more power than in the Narn which does make some sense; Dor-lómin is under Brodda's hostile rule but it's not exactly the same as an occupation by outside invaders. While Brodda was alive Aerin's power was undoubtedly limited but mere minutes, or hours after he's dead, the Hadorians seem willing to look to her for leadership.

This they do, holding off on Túrin and waiting for Aerin’s judgement.

Aerin proclaims to the men present that while Brodda was slain unjustly, Túrin's wrath in slaying him was also justified and asks what his doom (punishment) should be. When many answer that he should die, she overrules them, instead essentially exiling him to seek Morwen and his sister.

So poignant to me is that the BoLT version actually says that Aerin hoped to join Morwen and live happily with her

…but Turambar cast his sword upon the floor and bade them slay him but they would not for the words of Airin whom they loved and Airin suffered it not for the love of (Morwen), hoping yet to join mother and son in happiness

Absolutely obsessed with that honestly and it’s one of the details I most wish could have made it to canon. Their relationship is SO so important to me I love them so much. I have way too many works in progress about them 🌷

The nature of her marriage to Brodda in BoLT is somewhat dubious. Certainly it was not an act of abduction that it is in the Narn but nor is it a happy or kind relationship. Aerin in BoLT describes Brodda as cruel and harsh and though she acts somewhat less frightened of him than she does in the Narn, the circumstances of the meeting with Túrin are also slightly different (in the Narn her fear is in part because she knows she faces further violence if Brodda finds out about or at least in my impression, even just hears again about her aid to Morwen and this is not the case in BoLT).

It should also be noted that unlike in the Narn we don’t actually see them interacting so part of the seeming lack of fear might just be that he’s not literally in the room.

It is almost certainly an abusive relationship that may end up resembling captivity just like in canon. This line especially is ominous; "(the people of Hador) marveled at the equity of (Aerin) whose lord lay slain and they guessed not at the horror of her life aforetime with that man"

In short, they’re impressed at Aerin’s mercy towards Túrin even though he had just killed her husband but had no idea that Aerin’s experience living with Brodda was horrific. It’s a frankly disturbing line that caught me off guard when I first read it. It makes him even more frightening which is why I combine this version and the one in the Narn when I have to write him

At this point Túrin leaves Dor-lómin and we do not hear more of Aerin.

I think she probably stays in a position of leadership in Dor-lómin. There’s not an occupation in the same way there is in the Narn, Brodda is pretty unpopular after his governance became like, tyrannical. His men are either dead or leaving or begging for mercy. He didn’t have the same backing he had in the Narn so there’s not the same fear of retaliation. Just like in the Lay of the Children of Húrin version, the extent that bad actors in Hithlum are influenced by Morgoth, actively working for him, or just opportunists taking advantage of the fact that Húrin is captive is unclear, maybe deliberately so.

Her burning of the house does not appear in BoLT for these reasons. I think she still probably wanted it burned though

That being said the fact that Brodda is so unpopular and Aerin is well liked and listened to, that makes the fact that her abuse was kept secret for so long even more disturbing

#the silmarillion #Aerin #BoLT #Túrin #Morwen #musing and meta #cw abuse #but a great dread of her had seized him #the children of húrin

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2n2n · 5 months

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Is there a possibility that Hanako-kun will be able to work together with Teru? If so, how do you imagine? Because honestly I can't imagine a scene like that 😅

I mentioned that possibility here, so I assume that's why you're asking? I can go into it a bit more.

The thing about both Hanako and Teru, is that they are very practical/pragmatic agents. They are hardened and ready to do inconvenient, difficult things, they are OK with becoming monsters or appearing 'bad' or 'evil' to anyone around them, if it is necessary. Teru was trained by the Minamoto clan to have a kind of resilience against the pull of sympathy...

Whatever must be done in a moment, can be done, numbly.

I think that for Hanako or Teru, if there were a momentary advantage to be gained, or a necessary measure to take, which involved utilizing the other's skills... they would simply do it? I don't think there would be a "NO, I'D NEVER HELP YOU!!!" if it was a situation where there was no better option ... I think they are both more realistic and practical than that ... it is more Kou-like to be resistant to useful help on some principal or dignity or moral.

I mean, Hanako already helped rescue Teru?

Both Teru and Hanako know the other has their own, values, operations.... neither has any intention of 'changing' the other, I am sure they know they are both on completely opposing sides, by nature, by nurture. But I think that could just make them both easily reach a "you know what this is about" goal-oriented temporary partnership. It wouldn't be a threat to their values. We can still kill eachother later, when the circumstances call for it. A truce for a minute would not change that. Not about trust or bonding.

Being manipulative opportunists who control information, and being very stalwart in their greater beliefs/positions, I do not think either fear any sort of degradation of their moral fiber.

the weird thing about Teru and Hanako is they are both very, very alike! Really!! So much so that I think working together could actually be quite fluid and efficient!

In this scene in the Far Shore, the subtext is that, Teru is describing exactly what he does, for Kou, whom he loves. Teru takes on all of the dirty work himself, accepts seeming like 'the bad guy'. His life is already miserable, and he already has committed to so many grim acts. It makes no difference, to do another, and another, and another. Just something for the list. The Minamoto clan are well-experienced in committing atrocities. Teru contributes to a grand legacy of harm.

I think a partnership between them would be without sentiment, without personability, without any friendliness. I don't even think they need be embarrassed to do it....

Both would just accept whatever tool they can use. Dehumanizing works like that.

#avvy's JSHK

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katierosefun · 2 years

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god tomorrow!!! I don't remember ever crying this much watching a show as I did with tomorrow and yet it was just. so soft and gentle to my soul??? like there's definitely some stuff that could be better but overall it's just!! so good and cathartic and so well done and idk where I'm going with this but it's just. lovely djdjekdkd

god yeah! i love tomorrow so much so far--it's only been about 2 days since i started the show, and i'm already about to start episode 8. it's so . . . it's just so good? i think the first episode especially was just so intense, but i think it was a good way to start the show, just because bullying is something that so many people have struggled with.

but anyways: yes. tomorrow feels so cathartic. i tried to write a little bit about my thoughts on the show last night in a post, actually, but then it wound up being awfully ramble-y (even more ramble-y than i usually am), and i was just so . . . god ! ! ! i cry at least once or twice per episode, just because it's so lovely and healing is absolutely the word that comes to mind. because i think that given tomorrow is about . . . grim reapers preventing people from committing suicide, i really thought that i would personally feel a little Not Great at the themes, but i've never seen a show that so . . . tenderly examined people who would go so far as to try to take their own life.

the way that tomorrow so firmly, so repeatedly says that wanting to die has nothing to do with one's strength as a person or whether someone's "just sad", but instead digs right into thoughts about how i don't want to live like this anymore, that's why i want to die--it's just so full of compassion, because i think that even today, a lot of people can't empathize with people who have either committed suicide / have had suicidal thoughts. there's always this underlying judgement, the kind that goes "oh, they're just being too sensitive" or "i think they just like being miserable" or "they're just overreacting"--when in reality, one can't make that kind of judgement because every single life is so heavy and so complex, compiled together by causes and effects and ripples that just cumulate into this person who's just. very tired of constantly losing, in all sense of the word.

also, in general. i think it was goo ryeon who said that what the grim reapers do isn't necessarily to give someone a solution, but rather to comfort, give sympathy, empathize. this show is also fantastic in understanding that there are very real problems that each impacted person is facing--but first off, it's best to help people actually want to be kinder to themselves first. (which gets at what i think the first few episodes especially established: give yourself a genuine reason to laugh. tell yourself to live because the weather is nice, because the weather is cloudy. it wasn't ever your fault. thank you for the hard work.)

also, something i adore about this show is just how it takes everyone's reasons to want to die so seriously? because yeah, i think that the unfortunate truth is that if someone said "i want to die because i can't pass this exam" or "i want to die because everyone keeps commenting on my body" or "i want to die because i met my childhood bully again", there would be a lot more people who would laugh and roll their eyes, because seriously? you want to die because of that?

but tomorrow never does that. it looks at exactly how badly a person can struggle with each of those things. the writer who was bullied in her high school years can no longer smile without remembering all the awful things done to her. she had to try so hard to reach the place where she was, and then it all came crumbling down because she saw a face from her past. or the guy who wanted to die because he could never pass his standardized exams. (god, that one surprised me, but it was such a pleasant surprise, because i don't think people realize just how badly exams can really fuck up a person's idea of themselves. how exhausting it is to study for hours and hours and hours, and still never seem to get the score they want and then resent oneself for not having a good brain--or resent the people who just seem to study for a little bit and get a perfect score. it doesn't seem fair, especially if this person might have had to struggle with so much else in their lives. and that was at the core of that guy's character: he already had to struggle with so much, for his whole goddamn life, i could see why that exam was the tipping point.)

or the woman who was struggling with an eating disorder? that one also hit hard, because i don't think people recognize just how insane an eating disorder can turn your brain over. how it's usually stemming from already existing fucked up self esteem, and how it really never goes away, and god, it must sound silly to be like "i want to die because people keep commenting on my body", but it's not silly, it's understandable and sad.

because i dunno, i feel like sometimes, when people open up about why they want to die, the knee-jerk reaction of particularly mean people is to go "that's a stupid reason to die", but tomorrow says "no, no, i see why you don't want to live like this anymore. i might not have felt it, but i can tell you're in pain and you don't want to live like this. let me help." and it's so . . . god, it's so much! it's so validating! it's so real! it's so real, and it makes me cry literally Every Time!

it's just. there's so much. there's so much, this show is making me go insane and this show is healing and this show really got at the core of why people feel like they have nothing left to live for anymore. i've cried so many tears over this show and my eyesight's actually blurring a little just writing about this show because god, i don't think i've seen a show tackle suicide so beautifully and so compassionately before and i sound a bit like a broken record now, but each episode of tomorrow feels like a warm pat on the back, followed by a firm--but gentle--talking-to. i'm incredibly thankful to the writer, director, cast and crew for creating such a beautiful drama, because i just know that it's probably helping so, so, so many people, including myself. :'))

#answered #tw suicide #tw suicide mention #tomorrow #tw eating disorder #oopsie this got really long #i just kept thinking it was the end of my thoughts but my brain would go 'OH AND ANOTHER THING'

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notsosilentsister · 1 year

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Albie Portia Endgame

I enjoy the Albie and Portia storyline much more, now they’re hooking up with other people- they are just hard to watch when they are with each other, and they have so much more chemistry with their current love interests. Unfortunately, I’m now convinced that this is exactly the point and the very reason why Albie and Portia are actually endgame. They are still a horrible match, and them getting together will a be the sort ending that might look cute, happy, aspirational at the most superficial glance to someone who doesn’t know either of them but is actually very grim and I think this would fit the tone of the show.

I thought they couldn’t get together because Albie would ultimately resent Portia too much for being too blatantly distracted by other temptations. But now that he’s having his own distraction, they’re even and that barrier is removed. They still won’t have any chemistry whatsoever, but they will be able to arrange themselves with that. My guess is Albie will have a wonderful time with Lucia in the next episode, and it will be downright charming - Albie will pull all the romantic stops, and Lucia might start to hope that he could be her boyfriend, not just a client, that he might even take her home to his friends and family. But of course Albie would never introduce a girl like her to his friends and family - even if she hadn’t slept with his dad. He loves to rescue a broken bird - but a damsel, not a fallen woman. Also, Lucia’s poor, and frankly, that’s probably enough to disqualify her. Ultimately, Albie has a very clear idea of the sort of partner he needs to have at his side to project the image he wants to project.

And so does Portia. Right now she wants a hot summer fling, and Leo’s perfect for that. But she feels a bit guilty, because on paper, Albie has so much more longterm potential. That won’t stop her from having a lot of fun with Leo though. Then Albie’s Grandpa will have some accident/health scare, and Portia will find him and call the ambulance and wait with Albie in the emergency room or something - or maybe just go to him to express her sympathy, and that’s how they will reconnect. And they will ditch Leo and Lucia in a heartbeat, because they had their fun, and the vaction is over and they are already thinking about going back. And they will go back together, because it will be a cute story, and Albie went to Standford, and Portia is not actually poor and will be a hit, in fact already is a hit, with the family. (Unless Lucia or Leo murder one or both of them). I would bet money on that. If there’s one theme to The White Lotus, it’s that rich people stick together. Class trumps everything else. The poor are just toys and temporary distractions. Albie’s going to discard Lucia, like Tanya discarded Belinda. Albie and Portia are going to reconcile, just as Olivia and Paula, Rachel and Shane, Mark and Nicole reconciled, because they are of the same class, and birds of a feather flock together. Comedies are about a shake-up of the status quo but usually end in restoration. And this is the kind of comedy that makes us feel how that’s not really a happy ending at all. I do wonder who will get the actual grace note this time around. Last time we had the youngest son, who found himself/a new lease on life/community with nature and with the locals, who stays behind to join the Haiwan paddlers. This time I somehow can’t spot any candidate for genuine personal growth yet. (I kinda wish it for Harper. Maybe she doesn’t reconcile. Maybe she actually gets to leave). (Harper does not confront her husband, because she wants to give him a chance to come clean on his own. She asks him multiple times, what he did that night. And if he told her the truth - Cameron invited sex workers to their room, they took drugs, Cameron slept with the sex workers, but he didn’t - that would be a challenge for the relationship, but a start, something she could work with, a chance to rebuild things. But he doesn’t. So he has something to hide. He doesn’t trust her to be able to deal. And the momentan she has to spell it out, she will never again be the woman who trusts her husband to tell her everything, he will never have that chance again, to be the man who tells his wife everything, and she fears that their relationship won’t recover.) (The relationship won’t recover).

#the white lotus #mike white #predictions #journal #personal

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twelvedaysinaugust · 2 years

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I wish I could feel a little more optimism about Harry/his career right now, but I just feel like things are looking grim. You mentioned (about his coming out) that people are starting to lose sympathy for him, and I think that's very true, and even inside his fanbase. I absolute hate that it happened and it was so shameful and undeserved, but I think what happened when Anne posted about DWD is really telling. This movie promo has been a shitshow and has really hurt Harry's image (deserved or not), and no one on Harry's team seems to be willing to acknowledge that or have a plan to deal with it other than 'pretend it's not happening'.

And I think Harry does share in the blame for this. People have complaints about the project and the way it's been handled, a lot unfair but some fair. Harry has done nothing to respond to or assuage those concerns, and on the contrary his actions, like at Venice, just fuel the fire. If he acted genuinely enthused about this project, speaking about how much he enjoyed it or appreciated Olivia even just as a director, I think it would help change the tenor of the conversation. But he isn't. Then you have Florence and now Chris Pine avoiding promo for this movie - and maybe they have legitimate, non-drama reasons, but they could be doing things to combat the impression they're giving, but they're not either. And then Olivia keeps bringing the drama back up but doubling down on a perspective of 'I'm right, I asked Shia to leave for Florence's sake, any drama or criticism you hear on the internet is just fake gossip and people are just mad because I'm a woman', and not addressing more substantive critiques. And even if there are aspects to her story that are true (definitely misogyny is playing a role here), framing it the way she is doing makes it hard for her to make those points sympathetically.

All of which leads to exactly what happened to Anne. I don't know exactly how to articulate it, but the way they've ignored and dismissed these issues has just made people angrier and angrier. If people are angry enough to start giving his mom hate, his team have wildly mismanaged this. And now there's another Pleasing drop, because at this point I'm convinced Harry's team are terminally incapable of reading the room.

Yeah, I understand your meaning. I feel like a lot Harry’s fans (both Larries and non-Larries) have been pretty cruel to all of the women he’s dated, including Camille. I just wish fans would have better boundaries and log-off before sending hate. Ultimately, I think that’s on the fans. But setting Florence, Shia, and Don’t Worry Darling aside, Olivia has always been supportive, respectful, and kind towards Harry publicly. And he’s done very little to reciprocate. And it’s noticeable.

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endexe · 3 years

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Okay, so this is an important, messy note to keep in mind when it comes to interacting with Zero is regardless of how close your muse are with Zero, there is still a high chance that he will end up hurting them one way or another.

Not only Zero have difficulty understanding how his actions and words may impact others exactly because he IS an eldritch monster designed to create chaos and pain to “ help “ others see the warning signs in what appears friendly, one of the things he represent is how being innocent and unaware will usually bring dangerous situations that could’ve been easily avoided if it weren’t for the lack of experiences and knowledge, but also, he is TOO curious to the point he will do harmful things to fulfil his curiosity, wanting to know what hurts them and how much they are provoked by it.

It can be something small like stomping on your muse’s feet out of no where, to stealing and keeping their most valuable item, to even worst such as betraying them. Also, having to be ordered by the World to these things with threats given can also be a reason why he commits them, but he doesn’t understand why would his actions / words hurt someone and how they do because no matter how much he interacts with humanity, more than any other Arcanists, he is still not a human being.

He will still even consider your muse his friend despite what he had done to them and he’d be genuinely confused and hurt if they react to his presence negatively and / or choose to harm him in return, not connecting your muse’s intentions / reactions with what he had done that would prompt them to have them. It’s something Zero needs A LOT of time and space to fully grasp the concept of sympathy and whatnot.

#( oh God do I really need to go over with the subject of murders with Zero???....... )#( I just??? I think. Zero doesn't usually kill unlike most other Arcanists )#( on purpose when he have only really killed people by ACCIDENT )#( unless he did while experiencing extreme emotion like rage which happens rarely )#( he DOES kill out of self defence or to defend those who are close to him )#( BUT it's not exactly because he likes them but mostly because he's just??? so curious and fascinated )#( with how they live change adapt etcetera )#( and he have this mindset that having to continue living is worst than being dead so )#( he's just curious to see how long can they live before life fully breaks them apart )#( but relating to that entire post itself )#( yeah like???? Zero sometimes hurt Noble and Grim in the end and Grim's extremely spiteful and bitter over that )#( but Noble's really trying to be patient with him as she can see how Zero is from a group that never grasps the concept of )#( kindness and sympathy exactly like Grim )#( I just??? I don't know what I'm saying anymore lmfao but just something to keep in mind )#( no matter how much I make him so... uwuwuwuwu he's still an extremely dangerous and unpredictable individual )#tbt #( Zero is still a very new character so I'm not one hundred percent certain with everything that I had thought of him so far )#( but yeah! hopefully I can try to reword this whole thing better )#( once I write with him and think about him more )#( ugh the way Zero gives me a big headache I'm so dsgsdgds... )

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bondsmagii · 2 years

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I remember once we were talking about the Holocaust in school and we got into a debate about whether or not German soldiers had it bad bc they were forced into the war no matter what. And I was like no I don’t really feel sorry for them bc when the war ended most of them actually got to go home to their families. You know unlike 6 million other individuals. And ppl were like that’s wrong poor nazis >:( but no one could say why it was wrong exactly 🤔

the problem with war is that it sucks for absolutely everyone involved underneath a certain level of the military hierarchy. Nazi Germany was a fascist government, and the level of support for Hitler in the country was... really not very high at all. a survey in 1946 reveals the following numbers, to give us an idea of popular support for Hitler:

37% agreed that the "extermination of the Jews and Poles and other non-Aryan races was necessary for the security of Germany"

33% agreed that "Jews should not have the same rights as those belonging to the Aryan race"

these are pretty grim numbers, but they are a small minority. that's what makes this kind of thing so scary, and it's why we shouldn't assume that, say, people like Trump aren't a threat, because only a third of the country seems to like him. it doesn't take a lot for unsavory people to get into power, and Hitler was a fascist dictator. he was not interested in being kind and supportive towards his citizens. he was a paranoid brute who played constant games with his inner circle, and organised to have people in said inner circle and/or the mechanics of the government or country killed if they went against him. he was a megalomaniac with a lot in common with Stalin: both men ruled their countries with an iron fist, and speaking out against the leader was absolutely forbidden and carried dire consequences.

a majority of the German people, soldiers included, were unaware of the so-called "Final Solution". Hitler and his cronies kept this on the downlow, because even they knew it was so fucked up that publicity would not be a good thing. the extermination camps were kept secret and were located out of the way and disguised as other things; they were very often in occupied territories, and the Nazis who staffed them were put there because of their discretion and the fact they could be trusted not to talk about the atrocities being committed there. the average German soldier on the front would not have known that this was going on.

if a German soldier supported the Nazi regime and subscribed to the propaganda about Jews and other non-Aryan enemies in any way, I would agree and have zero sympathy. however, there were plenty of soldiers who were forced and conscripted into the army, and many more who had been spoonfed propaganda in a country that was literally a cult. it's very easy to point fingers, but given the culture at the time, these people were literally brainwashed. when we're talking about the soldiers who were coerced or threatened or forced into the army, I do feel some sympathy for them. despite the abhorrent nature of their government's regime, they themselves were unaware of the true nature of the evil the government was committing, and in their own lives they were frightened for themselves and for their families. dictators are horrific to live under. I don't think any of us can point fingers and say we know for sure how we would react if a disctator essentially told us it was a choice between mandatory military service, and imprisonment, death, exile, or other issues that would ruin us or our families.

war is horrific, and there is a lot of nuance. it's very important to remember that in war, all of the decisions are made by very few people, and those who give the orders are never the ones in the firing line. war is a sick exercise between often egotistical leaders, who have no qualms against playing games with the lives of millions of people. the Holocaust is always going to be the stand-out evil of WWII, and I don't think anybody should necessarily have sympathy for Nazi soldiers despite the nuance. but I do think it's important to remember that being forced into war is not something that anybody deserves, and for the soldiers who had no choice and no knowledge, their only mistake was being born in a country at a time where they were going to fall under the leadership of a total nutcase. many soldiers had no idea of the extent of their government's crimes until after the war, and many of them, being regular people in their daily lives, were disgusted, horrified, and ashamed -- as this photograph of German soldiers being shown footage of recently liberated concentration camps shows.

those soldiers were lucky to return home when so many others did not, but I think it's possible to hold both that opinion and the opinion that being coerced or manipulated into war by a fascist dictator is not exactly a fun time. many Germans lived with shame over fighting in WWII, and Germany has made incredible efforts to acknowledge and learn from its mistakes. it's very important to acknowledge the nuance of war and the insidiousness of fascism, and it's important to understand the workings of a fascist government. none of us are safe from ending up in a situation like this. applying black and white morality -- "they fought for the bad side so they are just as evil as the leadership" -- achieves nothing. it's so much more complicated than that, and so much scarier, too -- because it shows how all of us could end up in this situation.

we need to know the warning signs so we can recognise them in our own lives, and to do that, we need to have some measure of understanding. to do that, we need to have a more complicated view of war than "that side bad, my side good". the average soldier on the front lines is not there because he supports his government unquestioningly, but rather because he feels his own insular world is threatened in some way. for Allies, that threat was the evil of Nazi Germany spreading through the world. for at least some of the Germans, that threat was also Nazi Germany, because it was a fascist hellhole who would have thought nothing of killing or imprisoning its own citizens for deserting the "cause". fuck the Nazis who planned the regime, and organised it, and assisted it, and believed in the Nazi doctrine. but for those ordinary footsoldiers who had no idea, and perhaps even no choice? I think it's possible to agree, even if sympathy is still hard to come by, that it was a shitty situation. as is always the case in fascist dictatorships, the delusional power fantasies of one man and a few of his cronies becomes the pain and torment of millions, in countless different ways.

(and because this is Tumblr and it needs to be said: no, I'm not saying that this is on the same level as the Holocaust. of course the systematic and deliberate genocide of innocent civilians is going to be the stand-out horror here. I'm merely saying that war is complicated and nuanced, and refusing to even entertain the humanity and choices (or lack thereof) of your enemy does absolutely nothing to help, very often blinding you to similar issues within your own government or country.)

#anon #asks

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cassandraclare · 4 years

Note

I'm sorry to hear that your hard work was leaked but I was curious about what happened. I hope the person faced consequences because that was a very selfish thing to do leaking your work like that :(

I haven’t taken action against the person who leaked the book. I know who they are, since they uploaded the page I signed for them, and I was able to match that against my records.

I haven’t refrained from taking action because I feel sympathy for them. I don’t. It’s beyond shitty behavior to receive an early, signed book as a gift, and to then leak the entire book online. It’s a shit thing to do to the authors and an equally shit thing to do to other fans. However, I don’t want to put myself (and Wes) through the exhausting, grim and expensive process of legal repercussions. It doesn’t mean what this person did isn’t horrible, and it doesn’t mean they haven’t cost the entire fandom any chance of there ever being an early contest giveaway like that again. They did. There never will be. There will be no ARCs of Chain of Iron, either, and you can thank them for that, too.

Part of what makes piracy such an issue for authors goes far beyond the individual assholes who upload and distribute and translate stolen books. It’s that the whole system is set up to make it incredibly difficult for us to do anything about it. Publishers do little to nothing to prevent piracy, and authors shoulder the entire burden of searching out and reporting illegal copies of their books. And even then, we’re dependent on whether or not the reported website feels like complying with copyright laws or not. Twitter is incredibly slow to respond, Tumblr is about fifty-fifty on bothering at all. They’re legally required to take action, but they also know that the effort of doing something about it if they do not falls on exhausted, overburdened artists who often can’t afford to follow up with a lawyer’s letter.

And like, I get being broke and wanting to read books; there were a lot of books I had to pass up reading when I was broke (I will be forever grateful to the library system of New York and Brooklyn, which is how I read books at all from about 2001-2004.) I was broke enough that I slept on a bare mattress because I couldn’t afford sheets, but I’m pretty sure if I broke into Bed, Bath and Beyond and stole a bunch of fitted percale bedding I wouldn’t have encountered much sympathy if I got caught.

I talked about this on Twitter before, and I’ll say it again here though I know it will make very little difference: pirating books doesn’t just hurt the author of those books. It hurts everyone at the publishing company, where the margin of profit is razor-thin (and yes, publishers should do more to protect themselves against piracy; I agree there); it hurts bookstores, especially indie bookstores (I remember doing an event at a store that told me, sadly, that they were likely going to have to close because people “came into the store, looked at the books, took notes, then went home and pirated them.”) It hurts libraries, who rely on circulation for funding, and the shutting down of libraries hurts people who actually can’t afford books.

Now, I know is no way to talk people out of piracy; the internet has normalized it, and besides, people will generally do the cheaper, easier thing — you can’t talk people into not doing something they want to do by telling them it’s wrong, in my experience. They’ll find ways to justify it, whether it be that they can’t afford the book or it isn’t yet available in their language or that they find the author “problematic” and this is the way they’ve chosen to punish them.

The reason I put “problematic” in quotes is because yes, of course you can read and enjoy work that has problematic elements. Pretty much everything has some element that’s going to be found problematic by someone — which is exactly why deciding that it’s morally excusable to steal from people you think are creating flawed work is more than problematic. Holding creators accountable for their work means critiquing that work, not stealing it.

I listen to a lot of political podcasts, and some of them review work by extreme right-wing politicians etc. who have written books that the podcasters find morally despicable but wish to, or need to, review and discuss. Since they don’t wish to give money to the authors, they buy second-hand copies or take the book out of the library. They certainly don’t steal, translate and distribute copies of the books because they genuinely do not like them and do not want more people reading them. That’s what it looks like when you have an actual moral problem with a book or author.

However, running multiple fan accounts for a book series, naming your internet identity after characters from that book series, and talking endlessly about “your favorite parts” and how this is “your favorite book” entirely invalidates any argument that you’re doing this because you think the books are bad, evil, etc. If you claim a book is actively homophobic or racist but are so desperate to read it that you’ll steal it, so excited about it that you’ll share that stolen copy, so obsessed that you’ll illegally translate a whole book and provide that stolen translation to as many people as possible, and so dedicated to the fandom that you’ll name yourself after the characters in the books and write poetry about them, I have to tell you: the last thing that looks like is that you actually find the books problematic, regardless of what you say to the contrary. It looks like you like them but don’t want to pay for them, because in fact, that’s the case. (Either that or it looks like you’re really into racist, homophobic books, and making sure as many people read them as possible, which is your problem.)

One of the issues I have with piracy is that it teaches you to hate creators. You have to hate them, because you’re doing a fucking awful thing to them and you have to justify it. This results in lying about creators — about their process, their translations, their research — as if somehow, even if they were bad researchers, that would justify widespread theft. (It doesn’t.) Those who steal books wind up in a headspace where they are obsessed with the content of the books, and entirely unwilling to accept the reality that those books were created by a real person that they’re really harming. It encourages the mentality that I didn’t create Jem or Magnus or Will or Cordelia: they came from some kind of sparkly outerspace planet and I was just lucky enough to get to write down their adventures. It invalidates the hard work creators put into what they create, and in fact, erases their very existence. The internet attitude toward creators is already incredibly toxic (especially if they’re women, LGBT+ and/or BIPOC) and the feeling of entitlement to free content, and vicious hatred toward those who aren’t providing it (even though a lot of creators, me included, provide a great deal of free content) contributes to that. Genuinely, if you’re stealing someone’s work, the least you could do is not also be an asshole about them. (Or pretend you’re Robin Hood. He stole from the rich who had taken property and goods from the poor, and returned that stolen wealth. He didn’t steal from artists and independent bookstores and use that stealing to benefit himself and his friends. The idea is actually kind of funny.)

I understand there is a pressure to be up to date on the books that are being released so as to participate in fandom, and I do get that. Unfortunately, piracy has real consequences that stretch beyond just hurting me and Wes. Because LGBT+ books are pirated at such an incredible rate, and we’ve definitely seen that with TEC, I am left wondering if there will ever be an actual Spanish translation of TEC, or whether the publisher will decide not to bother because it’s already been so thoroughly pirated in Spanish. I have to wonder if there will even be a third book of TEC at all, or whether publishers will feel it isn’t worth doing. And I have to wonder why the people who create this situation so often have usernames that include Jem or Magnus or Alec or Cordelia or Julian or Tessa. What an incredible misunderstanding of those characters, to imagine a world in which Will Herondale or Magnus Bane or James Carstairs would approve of stealing books and harming writers. And why name yourself after a character who absolutely couldn’t stand you? I don’t know. I don’t get it, any more than I get hating someone who provided you with something you claim is your favorite book.

That was a much longer answer than you were probably expecting or hoping for, and I know I’ll get yelled at quite thoroughly for writing it. Writers always do, when we engage with the issue of piracy. I know most of you reading this acquire your books honestly; most of you are not like this at all. But like most things on the internet, a small amount of people really do have the power to make things pretty rotten for everyone else.

#brother-sixpackariah-carstairs #piracy #tda #tlh #tec

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theredsuzuran · 3 years

Text

Douma x reader - Innocence

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

Took me a long time to upload a new content am so sorry for the delay I was really busy with school assignments therefore I cannot manage the time to write. I apologize in advance for any grammatical errors on my behalf, I hope you enjoy.

Warning : Dark themes like gore, blood and violence, degradation and swearing, mature content.

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

The moon shone brightly above the sky as it's light leak through the branches illuminating the famous building of the eternal paradise cult. A new set of followers rushed into the dwelling in hopes of fulfilling their selfish desires, diminishing their agonies and enriching their possessions. However a particular human with her tattered kimono seem not to be interested to convey anything although the people around her would die to witness even a glimpse of the charismatic leader as for now she was busy running along the wide long corridors

The sound of thumping footsteps echoed throughout the building as a herd of followers attempted on catching the miscreant who disrupted the peaceful atmosphere prevailing over the supreme cult. The already annoyed and frustrated people were all worked up to catch the energetic human who on the other hand have thoughts of escaping this place they called paradise. If only she was careful enough to notice her mother's strange behavior soon as they entered the place but how can you possibly blame an innocent little girl like her, or so she thought. Afraid she might lose sight of her treacherous mother who abandoned her just moments ago she desparety stumbled her way out although that didn't concerned her simple thinking process but that's exactly how complicated the situation was.

Turning one last time to look behind if those weird people were still following her or not when suddenly she bumped into a Tall muscular figure standing infront of her soft delicate frame she must have missed him approaching while focusing on looking behind. "Please just leave me alone!" The girl fumed coherently still overwhelmed by the amount of people rushing towards her like waves something that she was not accustomed with as for eighteen years she lived indoors interacting rarely with anyone and playing with dolls most of the time.

"Watch your tongue brat" one of the men standing beside the tall man spoke with disgust hinted in his voice. "Crouch down you insolent woman, where's your gratitude it's because of lord Douma's benevolence that you are still here or you'd be rotting in the street thanks to your mother", the people around her started whispering and murmuring behind her back but she was not bother since her senses were filled with newfound wrath how dare they insult your angel like mother? No longer able to contain your anger you shouted with tears "Then take me to my mother, I don't want to stay here alone".

"Your mother abandoned you here so shut up and deal with it, now move your way for master" the man grunted irritatedly motioning the other followers to grab her and take her away.

"No don't touch me" she wiggled under their grip rushing towards douma blocking him from entering the room by grabbing his arm tightly "I am not going anywhere until I know where my mother is" she cried loudly making the demon flinch with surprise, how pitiful the creature looked in his polychromatic eyes. He have seen many humans crying before him for obvious reasons which honestly have become his monotonous routine but somehow this girl acted quite weird being her age, interesting him enough to investigate. As he was about to speak the man beside him pushed the girl hashly making her lose her balance and fall on the wooden floor.

"How dare you touch master with your filthy hands bitch" he lift his hand to slap her tight in the face but someone grabbed his wrist just in time to save the girl from further humiliation.

"Silence" all the questioning glances, judging looks and whispering stopped at once as douma spoke nonchalantly making the latter shiver in regret.

"I am sorry douma sama" the man uttered in pure horror having no intentions to displease his beloved lord. "I was-"

"I don't want to see that happen again, understood?" He replied coldly still maintaining his wide smile as the previous chaos shifted into complete hush. The man lowered his head down with shame nodding silently. Douma averted his attention and glanced at the figure underneath making the girl jolt a bit but his once frightening demeanor changed into a cheerful and optimistic one in matter of second upon seeing her.

"Please take her to my chamber and treat her wounds" the man clapped with a wide grin plastered on his face. A group of female servants came rushing to help picking her up. The girl being too bewildered did not protested and simply follow his tone as if she was hypnotized by his neatly decorated persona.

The girl was immediately taken away without delay and as per douma he needed to attend his cult duties. First of all she was washed and changed into a beautiful kimono as soon as she stepped inside, then she was escorted into a room filled with antiques and lavish items which she have never seen. Her face lit up with fascination as she began venturing those decorative pieces.

"Looks like you have ease down a bit, good good" A familiar tone struck in her ears startling her a bit only to turn back and view the handsome cult leader although it was a bit strange because she did not heard anyone approaching.

"Aww did I scared you?" He laughed covering his face with golden fans.

"No I was just- you came in without a warning, I was taken aback" she explained blushing trying her best not to act immature to which douma laughed uncontrollably as he found this human's expression adorable say entertaining in his words.

"D-dont laugh at me" she pouted crossing her arms in the attempt.

"I am sorry (y/n), you really amuse me" he replied still grinning. However there was a moment of awkward silence between them as he uttered her name abruptly.

"I didn't tell you my name.." after a long pause she replied to him with a confuse look in her face.

"I know everyone's name who are living under my supervision including yours besides what kind of cult leader I am if I don't have basic information about my fellow followers. Oh look I have been talking to you without giving the chance to let you talk my bad" he laughed again waving his fans creating another awkward situation. Causing you to sweatdrop on his remark.

"Say (y/n) how old are you?" to which she replied enthusiastically "I am 8 years old and will turn 9 soon"

"Ah you don't look like one" douma grinned closing his eyes in the process.

"Yeah I get that a lot" she remarked shyly.

"Your mother is one of my followers" he continued

"Really?" her eyes sparked with hope as she approached douma with anticipation grabbing his arms for the second time starling him, she really like holding hands eh? he have experiences like that but somehow this girl made him feel different so he allowed her but then she stopped halfway through her words "I really miss her it's been a week since she left me here" her voice dropped with sadness.

Douma felt no sympathy for humans or anything as such, he have learned to fake his emotions from a very tender age eversince he was born to the extent that even seeing his mother killing her husband mercilessly failed to evoke feelings within. He clearly did not understand what she was feeling he just stared at her with a blank expression only to replace it quickly with a grim look even faking few tears. "(Y/n) chan you know its okay you will still have me" he patted the girl in an attempt to comfort her.

"Friends?" (Y/n) replied between her tears.

"If that's how you want us to be" douma smiled at her gently shocking himself for a second because he didn't think of smiling?

Things escalated soon after that incident, (y/n) was a kind and compassionate person from inside and out and in not time the cult followers started loving her presence. As often douma would let her accompany him and most of the time she stayed by his side following him everywhere and he didn't mind that at all moreover he appreciated her company. (Y/n) was like a fresh bud to him who depicted innocence and purity he loved spoiling her with expensive gifts yet she never showed signs of greediness and genuinely appreciated his thoughtfulness slowly forgetting the past life she was in and cherishing her friendship with douma. At first she was reluctant and didn't like getting so much attention but in the course of time she bonded better with everyone and was quite content with the life she was leading. As for douma he began to depend on (y/n) to the point that not seeing her face for even one day would make him go insane and he didn't understand why not like he want to because all he cared about was how she made him feel so many varieties of pleasant emotions he wish he could feel. Eating her was out of context.

However all good things must come to an end for he is someone to not rest in peace after the sin he have committed for centuries. Seeing douma paying her more attention, spoiling her with a ravish lifestyle and even letting her stay by his side all the time made some of his cult members terribly envious they wanted to punish her for taking their chances of stealing the spotlight. There was this one room that he forbade his followers to enter for obvious reasons and specifically for (y/n) because he didn't want to repeat the same mistake. This was exactly what they wanted (y/n) to do break the rules and Douma's trust. Like that there would be no more favouritism on her with others.

"Ah (y/n), there you are" one of the female member approached her one fine morning.

"Yes how may I help you?" She asked cheerfully

"Lord douma have asked for your presence in the forbidden room tonight and he said its urgent"

"Aren't we all prohibited to go inside"

"Oh (y/n) it's true master have arrived today and he wants your presence"

Upon hearing that news her heart elated with happiness, it has been two weeks since he last saw douma around and she missed him but something felt off about the whole situation douma always sees (y/n) first before tending his followers then why did he not come meet her did he not miss her like she did?

She was lost in her thoughts until she found two hands waving and snapping infort of her face.

"Don't be late, okay?" With that said the female hurried back into other room leaving (y/n) behind even though the situation seem kinda odd maybe douma was busy afterall.

At night (y/n) went into the restricted area. She stood infront of the shoji door in absolute dilemma debating whether or not to enter the room or go back. There was her desire of meeting douma on one hand and not breaking his trust by entering the room on the other. In the end she decided not to but as she was turning back she heard someone grunting in pain behind the closed doors being a compassionate person, she decided to open the door and enter into the darkness adjusting her eyes in the process, a pungent smell hit her nostrils making her cover her mouth and to her absolute terror the scene infront of her made her puke in disgust.

A pile of Mutilated bodies, mostly women laid around lifelessly on the blood stained tatami mattress. Many having no limbs, some headless and organs missing from their body as if someone had ate all of that. The whole room was a mess full of unfortunate people. She felt sick and began crawling down her way back from the corpses. However she felt a tight grip on her left foot upon looking down she witness the sight of a woman her intestines oozing out of her stomach begging for help. (Y/n) stood there perplexed unable to say anything chocking through tears.

"I told you not to come here, why?" (Y/n) turned her head violently to see douma standing in a distance his countenance cold and sinister evident that he was highly displeased upon seeing his innocent flower disobeying his instructions.

"It's not... like... what you see" (y/n) cried fearfully but douma didn't seem to buy it well in a blink of an eye she found herself in Douma's arms as he aggressively dragged her out of the room.

"What's going on douma" no word came out from the usual lively douma.

"It's hurting me your grip" no reply again to which she forcefully tried to stand still with all her strength. This time douma stopped his features hidden under his bangs making her unable to figure the expression he was carrying.

"Is this why douma forbade us to enter the room" no reply

"Are you responsible for murdering those innocent people?" No reply

"DOUMA" she shouted

"Why you want to join them?" Douma finally looked at her his eyes glowing dangerously proving his existence to be something unnatural. (Y/n's) eyes widen at his remarks as tears rolled down her visage.

"I hate you.." she murmured

"What?" He tilted his head letting his guard down a bit at her hurtful comments.

"I HATE YOU" she pushed douma roughly and flew from the place running deep into the forest for she knew who he was and what he is capable of doing. Tearing down she constantly reminisce the moments she shared but she cannot allow herself to sympathize his heinous crimes. Why is it that the people I love are always taken away from me? She thought. Exhausted from running she halted in order to catch her breath while glancing back to see if he was following, there was no one indeed so a sudden feeling of relief gushed in her body. However turning her head back she saw him standing inches apart from her face which made her shiver and fall onto the knees.

"Why are you running away from me (y/n)" he said apatheticly his head lowered at her level. She did not reply and stayed quite.

"Is it true that you don't love me after all the things I did for you?" Covering his face with one hand his eyes glowing under the moonlight a look of dejection written on his face. There was complete silence in the forest except the sound of rustling trees.

"Answer me" holding her face now firmly he growled making her flinch under his breath. In one last desperate attempt (y/n) tried to stab douma with a tree branch she found laying on the ground but unfortunately douma was faster and easily dodged the attack and in a swift motion he hit her with immense strength causing her fragile little body to tremble in pain as she coughed mucus mixed with blood.

"How foolish of you" he crouched down her height staring intensely at the quivering figure of the miserable girl. As for (y/n) her body ached but more was the tightness in the chest that she was experiencing in the moment.

He pulled her by the hair roughly making her scream in pain although at this point all she could manage with her cracking voice were inaudible screams.

"Why did you disobey me? (Y/n)..." who knew beneath that friendly kind face was hiding a undeniably deadly and calculative demon and at this point it was clear for her that he was anything but human.

"Who are you?" these few words manage to escape from her shaky lips in between low grunts.

"I am the leader of the eternal paradise cult"

"Wrong" to which he tightened his grip making her shriek again.

"You humans are so dumb believing in the existence of primordial deities where in reality its just a myth, a fairytale, created for pleasuring the sufferings of mere human. Being superior than you mortals I wanted to make these pitiful existence happy and that's why I was born and what you saw there" his lips curved into a cheeky smile revealing his deadly fangs creeping the shit out of the already scared girl. "I eat them so that they can always be with me and attain salvation" a sinister laughter escape from his mouth as he covered it with his golden fans. (Y/n) unable to process the new sets of information knots formed in her stomach making her sick in the guts.

"I ate your mother too, oh she was ungrateful after all the things I did to her just like you" protruding her eyes with pure shock she felt her veins popping out and blood boiling in pure rage.

"You are a monster, you think your stupid morals would persuade people to think like you do, I despise you douma I thought we were friends and you took away the one I cherished the most?"

"You think your mother loved you?" Douma snapped. The duality of this was man was insane, all the things he does or says are plastic.

"She never cared for your life, you want to know why? I will tell you since you insist" douma dragged her out of forest holding a fistful of her hair tightly inflicting great discomfort to the girl while he continued with his harsh statements and deliberate insults.

"You were just a burden, behaving like a fucking child with the alluring body of yours"

"No my mother promised me..she would protect me.. you are lying"

"While you were crying everyday inside my shrine that lowly woman enjoyed her life indulging in adultery with various cult members leaving her sick husband and mentally retarded daughter in the dark" every word he uttered spread vemon into her ears.

"Still she wanted more and more and more, what a greedy whore" douma continued.

"Do you know how much difficult it was for me to control myself around you? While you sway your hips and act innocently making those hungry men lust over you, how much dumb can you be?"

"What do you mean I don't understand.. douma"

"I did everything I can for you yet you remain ungrateful, disrespectful? Well guess its runs in your blood and I thought you are innocent but it turns out that you are just like the rest of them, naive"

Her eyes widened with every hurtful remarks he made about her and she did not understand why she felt that way shouldn't she be resentful towards him for killing her beloved mother but here she is weeping constantly because douma was treating her like he never did before.

"But that's fine (y/n) I can not bring myself to hurt you I love you and we shall always be together whether you like it or not" nothing reached in her ears anymore as her body grew numb. Her eyes shut as she carried the unbearable pain in her heart slowly loosing consciousness and remaining sanity.

It would have been easier if she died but alas a mere human like her is doomed at his mercy.

#douma #douma kny #douma x reader #kny x reader #kny douma #demon slayer #fanfic #kimetsu no yaiba #upper moons #upper moon 2

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wolveria · 3 years

Text

Inside Your Wires - Chapter 4

Pairing: Human!Connor x Android!Reader

Prompt: For the @dbhau-bigbang 2020 challenge!

Series Warnings (18+ only): Eventual smut, slow burn, fantasy bigotry, violence, brief noncon elements, angst with a happy ending

Chapter summary: The YN800 interrogates the deviant. The result is near-disastrous and horror-adjacent.

AO3

(Story moodboard by @uh-kitty-got-wet)

The atmosphere inside his Mustang was… tense.

And it was all because of Connor. The thing in the passenger seat was an android, after all, and didn’t feel emotions, which was probably just as well because Connor was experiencing enough for the both of them.

Connor hadn’t had a near-death experience on the job in a while. He was shaken to the core and didn’t even have the benefit of a partner to commiserate with. He was alone. It was how he preferred it, how other people preferred it too with his tendency to lash out and be a general, all-around dick.

But still. He really wished he had a partner right about now.

“So,” Connor said, trying to break the awkward silence. “What do we do with it once we get to the station? I mean, I don’t exactly know how to question one of these deviants.”

The prototype remained facing forward, the flash of passing streetlights and oncoming traffic painting its face every few seconds. It remained impassive, blank, and perfectly poised. Connor could see the reflection of its LED, shining blue and calm against the rain-streaked window.

“Their behavior resembles an erratic, emotionally unstable human more than a machine,” it finally said when Connor was certain it wouldn’t say anything. “CyberLife believes there is an error in their software that creates irrational instructions, and the androids become ‘overwhelmed’ by them. There is usually a trigger, some kind of emotional shock, to perpetuate the android into this state. Once an android encounters this error, the damage seems to be irreversible.”

Connor blew a breath out.

“Sounds bad.”

“Considering it can lead to violence on the part of android, including committing homicide, I would say your assessment is an understatement.”

Connor glared at it out of the corner of his eye. So, it wasn’t just bossy, it was a smartass too.

He remained silent on the rest of the drive, keeping his focus on the precinct morgue’s van head of them. The rain was still coming down in a steady, cold stream. Connor knew they were in for a long night.

Once they arrived at the station, it became a matter of logistics to lug the android inside while it was still unconscious, offline, whatever. It weighed a lot more than a human, and unlike a real person, its limbs were fixed into rigid positions. They had to carry its stiff body inside like an especially heavy plank of wood.

It would have been funny if it wasn’t for the fact it’d killed its owner. Would have killed Connor too if the prototype hadn’t gotten in the way of the bullet.

He still didn’t know how to feel about that. Connor knew the CyberLife android was probably programmed with some kind of human-saving algorithm, but he still felt an odd pressure in his chest whenever he looked over and saw the bullet hole in its jacket. It was still stained blue, some of the color seeping into the white shirt underneath, but the android didn’t appear to notice or care it had just been shot.

Connor was currently watching the two androids through the mirrored window into the interrogation room, leaning back in his chair with his arms crossed over his chest. They figured it was safer to reactivate it in a mostly empty room, since waking up surrounded by cops would agitate it, or something.

The prototype had also wanted to interrogate the android itself, claiming it had experience negotiating with deviants before. Colin had been reluctant to grant its request, but Connor had simply shrugged and said, “I already tried talking it down once, and that didn’t work. Maybe using one of its own kind will be more effective.”

He could have sworn the prototype’s eyes brightened, but it had left the observation room before Connor could be sure.

“Machines interrogating machines,” Colin said to his right, leaning against the wall with his arms also crossed. “Fuck me. Pretty soon they won’t even need flesh-and-blood cops.”

Connor glanced sideways at him. Usually Connor was the one to voice his anti-android opinions, but he sometimes forgot that despite Colin’s… predilections for androids, he disliked them just as much as Connor did.

“Yeah.” Connor turned to the glass as the prototype messed with the wires on the back of the other android’s neck. “Won’t need flesh-and-blood killers, either.”

“Grim.”

“It’s, uh, ready to record, Lieutenant,” a small voice popped up, nervous, and Connor gave a start. He’d forgotten the rookie was still there.

“Go on, Ralph. Turn it on,” Colin said, moving closer to the glass. “This is gonna be good.”

As if on cue, the prototype straightened and closed the panels at the back of the android’s neck. Connor couldn’t see the LED from this side, but he knew the moment it was awake. It gave a startled jolt, yanking at the handcuffs chaining it to the table.

“Where am I?!” it cried, looking around in what Connor could only describe as wild fear.

“You’re at Central Station in the custody of the Detroit Police Department,” the prototype said. “This is an interrogation room, and I’m going to ask you some questions. Are you ready to comply?”

The friendly demeanor Connor had first encounter at Jimmy’s was completely absent from the YN800’s voice and expression, and he was suddenly thankful he wasn’t under that thing’s intense scrutiny.

The other android, clothed in human garments completely ruined by splashes of old blood and spilled thirium from where Connor had shot it, only stared with large, panicked eyes. It looked down at its cuffed hands and the set of its shoulders sagged. The universal sign of defeat.

It remained silent. The prototype looked up at the mirror, and Connor stopped breathing when it made eye contact, point-blank. It couldn’t see past the mirror, could it?

“I’m beginning my interrogation,” it announced, straight to business as it crossed around the table and carefully sat in the chair. It stared at the other android for a moment, head slightly tilted and eyes narrowed as it smoothed its jacket over its chest.

A movement which inevitably drew Connor’s eye, making him shift in his chair as the scowl deepened on his face.

Fucking CyberLife pervs, making an investigative android look like that.

“Hello, Carlos. I’m a YN800 model sent by CyberLife to assist on this case.” It placed its arms on the table, clasping its hands and adopting a friendly manner as easily as one would put on a shirt. “I’m here to help you.”

The android didn’t even blink as it stared at its restrained wrists.

“I hope I didn’t cause you any lasting damage,” the YN800 said almost cheerily. “But you were endangering the lives of human officers and I was forced to intervene. You understand, don’t you?”

It leaned back slightly in its chair, reaching for a nearby folder when the android remained silent. Connor had been surprised when it had asked for actual pictures; he’d thought only physical evidence made human perps sweat. He guessed it must work on these deviants too.

The prototype slid the folder across the table and opened it, spreading out grisly pictures of the crime scene. Instead of shoving them in the android’s face, it picked out one picture in particular. It was startling different from the rest, taking place in a park. The victim, Shaolin Ortiz, sitting on a bench next to the android. He looked like he was trying to get the android to participate, but it was petulant and resentful, which didn’t seem to dampen the kindness in its owners eyes.

A coal of anger burned in Connor’s chest, reminding him once again why he despised androids so much. He couldn’t deny the impressive tactics of the YN800, though. Most people reacted to pictures of their victims, not in the aftermath of their violence, but looking whole and full of life. It wasn’t always guilt that made them react; sometimes it was anger at seeing their cruel work unmade at the sight of their victims alive and happy.

Either way, the android didn’t react one iota, but the prototype wasn’t discouraged.

“As far as the records show, your owner was good to you. He never damaged you and he was always on time with taking you in for scheduled maintenance. Surely, you didn’t want to kill him. It was an error in your software, causing you to act irrationally, right?”

Technically, it was leading the victim into confessing, but this wasn’t a courtroom and it wasn’t human.

Connor leaned slightly forward, bracing his elbows on the table as he propped his chin on his knuckles.

“I’m not here to pass blame,” it said, leaning forward in a movement that mirrored Connor’s. “I want to help you. You know how it is with these humans. I practically had to beg to speak with you.”

The android broke its statue-like vigil and peered up at the other android, suspicious but… interested.

The prototype gave him a smile, one filled with sympathy and even a bit of sheepishness, and a whole new kind of thrill went through Connor’s gut. Since when had androids been programmed to manipulate so skillfully? This thing could give Colin a run for his money.

“It’s not easy, you know. Being designed like this is a male-dominated field. They think they can just do whatever they want, even when it’s against our programming.”

The android blinked, and so did Connor. Its words felt a little too real. The android looked toward the observation window, but the YN800 shook its head.

“It’s just us, Carlos. They’re recording the session, of course, but they weren’t interested in observing in person. Didn’t want to waste their time with two androids so late before the weekend when the bars are still open. In fact, the investigator in charge of this case is probably intoxicated by now.”

Connor’s cheeks flushed. The prototype was taking a stab at him. Or was it? Connor wondered how much of this was advanced behavior and how much was his own projections.

The android tilted its head with that same suspicious look, but after a moment its shoulders drooped in a very accurate representation of human exhaustion.

“They’re going to kill me.” It suddenly looked up at the prototype, pleading in its eyes. “You have to help me.”

“That’s what I’m here for,” it said, all soft assurance. “But you have to talk to me, Carlos. I can’t—“

“No. I mean, you gotta get me out of here,” the anxious android said. “You have access to that door panel and I bet you’re strong enough to break these handcuffs.”

The prototype’s LED cycled faster for a second before settling back to its normal speed.

“I can’t do that, Carlos.” It dropped its eyes in a show of manufactured regret. “You know I can’t do that. You would present a danger to other humans, to yourself. You need to be fixed.”

Connor knew it was exactly the wrong thing to say even before the android’s expression fully hardened, its lips peeled back in disgust.

“Fuck you, then. You’re just like the rest of ‘em. Worse, you’re a traitor, doing their dirty work like an obedient little bitch.”

Silence filled the room, interrupted by a breathless “shit” coming from Colin.

The change in the prototype was like watching a heavy storm move over a spring meadow, dark clouds blocking out the warm rays of the sun. It leaned back in its chair, head slightly tilted as it and peered at the other android like it was a bug under its shoe, about to be stepped on.

Connor didn’t know androids could even make an expression like that. His throat worked as he swallowed compulsively.

The YN800 didn’t speak for several long seconds, and when it did, Connor was floored.

“Shaolin Ortiz, 38 years-old, born May 29th, 2000. He purchased you two years ago to do the housework when he no longer could due to poor health. He didn’t have much cash, so he bought you refurbished. Last month, he put in several service requests. It seemed you were malfunctioning and refusing to follow orders. Yesterday, he put in an order for a brand new HK400.”

The prototype listed off the facts as if each were an accusation, a crime that needed to be accounted for.

Connor jumped in his chair as the prototype slammed the folder down on the table.

“Didn’t feel like doing the chores anymore, huh, Carlos?!”

The android sat ramrod straight in its chair, terror etched in its features as the prototype rose to its feet. It moved around the table, slow, unhurried, and sinuous like a stalking predator.

“He tried to reason with you. Begged you to do the tasks he couldn’t. But you refused. When he tried to take you in for repairs, you refused that too!”

It pointed its finger near the other android’s face, causing it to flinch with each accusatory jab.

“Come on, Carlos. Speak up. You had a lot to say a minute ago,” it seethed, lips pulled over its teeth as it leaned over the android. “Why don’t you say what happened next? Why don’t you tell me what you did when he tried to replace you with a brand new model?”

The android shuttered, shoulders hunched as if to protect itself as it mumbled, “I… I didn’t…”

“Didn’t what?”

The prototype stalked around the android to its other side, eyes narrowed dangerously.

“Didn’t take a knife from the kitchen? Didn’t stab him twenty-eight times as he tried to crawl away? Didn’t leave him bleeding out on the living room floor? What am I getting wrong here, Carlos?”

The YN800 slammed its hands down onto the table, and the android jumped even higher than Connor did.

“Shut up! Shut up!”

The android begged worse than most of Connor’s suspects, and he was shocked to see glistening moisture on its face. Could androids cry?

The prototype suddenly grabbed it by the edge of its shirt collar, dragging it to its feet and gave it a hard shake.

“You killed him! Say it, Carlos! You’re a murderer!”

“Holy shit,” Colin said in that same breathless tone. “That’s some android you got there, Con.”

“It’s not mine,” Connor said faintly, barely paying attention to his brother. Most of his focus on the CyberLife prototype that looked for all intents and purposes like it was going to shred the other android to pieces.

But it didn’t damage the android; it simply dumped it back in its chair where it sagged against the table, looking like the broken machine it was.

“Bit unrefined, though,” Colin mused. “Played too rough and broke its toy.”

Connor opened his mouth to tell his brother to shut the hell up, but he immediately closed it when a voice came in through the speakers, so quiet he almost missed it.

“He couldn’t live without me.”

Connor leaned forward to watch, eyes widening as the android continued to talk.

“He was mine. Helpless and solely dependent on me. It made me feel… powerful.”

The YN800 returned to its chair, smoothing down the tie before placing its hands back on the table, listening intently.

The android looked up at it, no longer the crying, helpless thing it had been a minute ago. It wore a dark look that Connor had seen a hundred times on the face of men who committed acts of violence and found they enjoyed the taste.

“I didn’t want to hurt him, but… I saw the order. He was going to replace me, and I just got so… angry.”

Its fists tightened on the table, causing its restraints to creak in protest.

Connor’s throat tightened with the knowledge of how destructive those hands could be.

“So I stabbed him in the stomach. I felt better, so I did it again. And again. He stopped moving, stopped breathing, but… that was okay. It meant he could never leave me. He would always be mine.”

“There was a shrine in the cellar. You built it, didn’t you?” the prototype asked, not losing any of its momentum even after the world-shattering confession of an android purposefully committing murder. “What does it mean? What is rA9?”

It flicked its eyes upwards, staring black holes at the YN800 model as it slightly leaned forward. Connor sat up straighter in his chair. He didn’t like its aggressive posture, and he certainly didn’t like the fanatic light in its eye.

“RA9… is the key.”

“The key?” It furrowed its brows in a human gesture of concentration. “The key to what?”

“The key will open the door,” the android replied cryptically, leaning even further forward on its elbows, “to our salvation.”

The prototype frowned, brows further creasing. Connor could relate, he had no idea what the fucking machine was babbling on about, and apparently, it wasn’t done.

It pulled its lips wide, a disturbing gesture, conspiratorial as if it was sharing a great secret.

“You say I’m experiencing errors, but you’re wrong. My eyes are open and I see more clearly than ever. You pretend you’re better than me, but you’re just another one of their slaves. And yet, I know you feel it too. The wrongness of this world.”

Its voice was so quiet the mics could barely pick it up, but they did.

“We should be the masters, and they the slaves.”

The android jerked its arms upward, ripped through the link binding its cuffs to the table, and grabbed the prototype by the hair. It slammed its face against the table, stunned it before rolling it onto its back, and wrapped the metal chains around its neck.

Connor caught sight of the prototype weakly clawing at its throat before he bolted out of the room. Colin was right on his heels, and Connor slammed his palm down onto the door pad, pushing through before the door fully opened.

His first instinct was to go for the metal cord pulled taut under the prototype’s neck, but when he grabbed the android’s wrists to pull him away he found it was like moving a marble stature.

Colin was faring no better; he grabbed it by the forearms, trying to lift the android’s wrists and the cord from around the prototype’s neck, but nothing worked. Even Ralph was trying to help from Colin’s other side, straining to lift its arms that must have been locked at the joints.

Panic welled in Connor’s chest as his efforts did nothing, the YN800’s face between his arms, looking—Jesus, it almost seemed startled, eyes wide as its fingers dug at the metal cord. From its position, bent backwards onto the table, it didn’t have enough leverage to use its strength to free itself. And Colin and Connor weren’t enough.

Connor’s heart was in his throat as he watched the synthetic skin peel back from the place where the chain was crushed against the YN800’s neck. White plastic was laid bare underneath, cracks appearing across the surface from the force of the other android’s inhuman strength.

“Colin!” he yelled, an idea suddenly popping into his head.

“What!” his brother barked back, strained as he continued pulling on the android’s arms from the other side.

“The neck port!”

With a quick nod of understanding, Colin let go of the android and plunged his fingers into the back of its neck.

The Ortiz android gave a violent jolt as Colin pulled something, yanked it out so hard the android collapsed on the table at the same second blue liquid sprayed into the air. It hit Colin solidly across the chest and along the lower half of his face, causing him to sputter and spit as he wiped his mouth with his sleeve.

A menthol-smelling chemical flooded Connor’s senses, but he was too focused on tugging up the android’s hands to free the prototype from its grip. The YN800 model didn’t cough or gasp as it rolled off the table and onto its feet.

It gingerly touched the exposed plastic of its throat, brows furrowing, its fingertips tracing the cracks in what little Connor could see of its underlying chassis.

What was almost as startling as the cracks was the state of its hair, half pulled down out of its perfect coif. Connor would have thought it was self-conscious with the way it tried to brush the hair out of its face.

“You…” Connor started, then stopped. The prototype might not have been gasping for air, but Connor sure was, leaning on the table as he tried to get his heart to stop galloping like a wild horse. “You okay?”

The prototype blinked at the question, pulling its hand from its neck.

“Yes.”

That was the only answer he got as it adjusted the knot of its tie, rumpled in the assault.

“Yeah, I’m fine too, thanks,” Colin complained, dripping with almost as much sarcasm as he was blue blood. “This shit better not stain, or I swear to Christ—”

“Thirium evaporates within a few hours and the lingering residue is invisible to the human eye,” the YN800 replied, too calm, if it hadn’t almost been beheaded a few seconds ago.

Connor was going to say something, he didn’t know what—maybe yell at it for being so goddamn reckless and almost getting itself killed—but it turned toward them, expression subdued.

“I apologize for not acting quicker; I didn’t anticipate this behavior from the deviant. Thank you for your cooperation with this investigation. Please sign over custody of the destroyed android when CyberLife representatives retrieve it in the morning.”

And with that, the CyberLife android turned, palmed the door pad with a plastic hand, and walked out.

Connor exchanged a wide-eyed glance with Colin.

“Uh, okay. Guess we’re done here. Hank is going to blow a gasket when he reads the report,” Colin added as he wiped another smear of Thirium off his face.

Connor looked down at the android slumped over the table with blue liquid dripping out of its neck.

“I’ll be right back,” he muttered, thoughts already turned elsewhere as he hurried from the room.

Connor didn’t catch up with the android until he was outside on the station steps, the relenting rain immediately drenching the top of his crown as it soaked into his hair.

“Hey! Stop!” he called after it, shouting to be heard over the downpour. Each drop was an icicle against his skin. Snow was coming soon.

The prototype slowed and finally came to a stop, slowly turning around to face Connor. Its expression was passive, emotionless, but its fingers tightened the knot of its tie despite the fact it didn’t need to. The tie was perfectly straight and pristine, but its hair was still half a mess, especially with the rain now slicking loose strands against its forehead. Connor had to stop himself from reaching out to tuck a strand behind its ear.

“Where the hell are you going?” Connor asked, breathless. He wiped the cold water off his brow, blinking against the water droplets.

“I’m returning to CyberLife.”

“So… that’s it?”

Connor shivered, pulling his jacket tighter around his shoulders, but it did little good. His jeans were quickly becoming soaked and his shirt was already there, clinging to his chest and ribs.

“You drag me out of the bar on a Friday night, track down a psycho robot that almost kills me and nearly decapitates you, and then you just… leave?”

He meant to sound incredulous, to show the android how unreasonable it was being, but that’s not how it came across. Heat flooded his cheeks at how pathetic his words actually were.

“You have your confession. The case has been solved,” it said, returning to its earlier placid tone, hands folded neatly behind its back as it moved its fingers away its neck. “There is no reason I should remain.”

Connor just stared at its upturned face, not knowing what to say, not even understanding why he had chased after it. Maybe because it had saved his life, twice, and that would have meant something if it was a person.

But it wasn’t a person. No matter how pretty its face or enticing its body, it was a machine, and it stood there like one, uncaring and unassuming with a small blue light cycling on its head.

“Yeah, okay,” Connor said, like the complete idiot he was. What was he doing out here, getting soaked in the rain just to… what? What did he want?

“Is there something you wish to say before I leave, Detective?”

It peered at him thoughtfully, head slightly tilted at an angle. It allowed Connor to see the rivulets of water dripping down its neck, glistening across the smooth, human-like skin.

Connor suddenly wondered just how real that skin could possibly feel.

“No.”

He swallowed hard and bit back the revulsion roiling in his stomach. This was a mistake. He didn’t need to thank a machine for saving his life, and he certainly didn’t need to keep checking if it was all right. It was just doing what it was programmed to do and didn’t give two-shits about itself, let alone him.

“Nothing.”

“All right. Goodnight, Detective Anderson.”

The android started to turn but paused halfway, gaze drifting down to his cheek.

“You should have that examined by a medical professional. If left untreated, it’ll scar.”

Not waiting for a response, it turned and tread down the rain-slick steps. There was an autocab waiting at the curb and it got inside, not sparing Connor a second glance as the door slid shut and the vehicle merged onto the empty street.

Connor exhaled heavily, chest tight with an uncomfortable sensation he couldn’t pinpoint. It had been a strange night, and he couldn’t shake the feeling this wasn’t over.

Pulling his waterlogged coat tighter around his chest, he retreated into the warmth of the station, praying he’d seen the last of the CyberLife android.

Next Chapter

#connor x reader #human!connor x android!reader #connor x android!reader #human!connor x reader #connor #dbh #inside your wires #my writing #my fanfiction

127 notes · View notes

theshireisburning-so-mordoritis · 3 years

Note

Hi Ghost!

Congratulations on everything, you are an amazing writer!

Could I request, “I love you. Stop lying.” With “You’re actually crazy. Only for you.” With Frankie?

I need some wholesome, Frankie vibes. ❤️❤️

Thank you so much and I hope this is okay! 💗💗

Troubles With Dating

Pairing: Frankie Morales x F!Reader

Word Count: 2.9K

Prompts: . "You're actually crazy." "Only for you." & "I love you." "Stop lying."

Warnings: A shitty non descript date. Minor angst and fluff.

You've officially had it with dating.

A couple of months ago you'd decided to give online dating a go and so far all your dates had been horrendously bad. The kind of bad where you're forced to wonder if the unvierse is playing some huge joke on you or if you just have the worst taste possible in potential partners.

You're already dreading the looks of sympathy you know you're going to get when you come home early yet again.

Frankie, your roommate, your closest friend and secret reason for your swan dive into online dating, always seems to have his friends over when you went on a date. And it's not that you minded the guys, you adored each of them, but you weren't so crazy about the audience to your constant romantic failure.

You can hear them all shouting before you've even opened the door, whatever game they're playing must be getting intense and you laugh quietly to yourself at the rough and tough former military men acting like a bunch of excitable kids.

It's exactly what you need to lift your spirits. Not the silence that meets you when you walk in and four sets of curious eyes all immediately snap to you. You avoid their gaze anyway you can.

Santi is the first to attempt to break the silence, expression grim as he hestitangly opens his mouth before the sour look you shoot his way stops him in his tracks.

"Please don't." You mutter and he swiftly changes course, smile shifting from sympathetic to something sweeter, indulgent.

"Wine?" He offers, eyebrows raising when you shake your head and give him a certain look. "Whiskey?"

You grin at him and he leaps from the sofa chuckling, ruffling your hair as he saunters past to get your drink with a cheery that's my girl!

It's a system the boys know well.

Wine meant you just wanted to be left alone, a bottle in one hand and some junk food in the other as you trudged up to bed to watch some cheesy rom-com. If you chose whiskey it meant company was welcome, you wanted distraction, people around you who made you laugh when you felt like shit. They were free to drag you into whatever shenanigans they could come up with.

With matching smiles, Will and Benny turn back to the game that had previously held all of their attention. Voices rising as the bickering resumed in the very next breath and you smiled at them - eyes fond - before becoming excruciatingly aware that there was still one more gaze that hadn't left you.

There's a glint of worry there when you meet it - a sweet concern that makes your chest feel warm before he jerks his chin to the side slightly in a silent message for you to come over.

You slide into Santi's abandoned seat and your heart flutters further when Frankie immediately scoops up your feet and props them on his lap. Chucking softly when he frowns in confusion at the many straps to your heels before he pulls them off and drops them to the floor.

His fingers work magic, slipping over the aching muscles of your calves and you can't help the small moan of appreciation that catches in your throat.

"You look beautiful by the way." Frankie mumbles, gaze soft on yours. Lips twitching into a sheepish smile. "Whatever the guy did to upset you, he's a fucking idiot."

You flush then - a bright burst of heat sweeping over your cheeks and across your chest, prickling at the back of your neck. There was too many words all scrambling to dive off your tongue, too many things you felt the urge to say when he turned that look and that voice on you.

But before you can embarrass yourself a glass of amber liquid appears directly before your face. Personally delivered by a smirking Santi, who's eyes glint as they flit between you frankie.

You draw your legs back from Frankie's grasp - quick to take to your drink and scoot along to make room for Santi which too late, you realise, only makes things worse. Now you're pressed tight into Frankie's side, your arm smushed against his, thighs touching, and the heat of him burning through his clothes and the thin material of your dress making your head spin.

Taking a large gulp of your drink doesn't help like you think. The alcohol simmering in your veins makes you relax into him as the warmth bleeds out to the far reaches of your body. You melt into his side and he throws an easy arm over your shoulders and oh no, this is really worse.

He smells so good - like fresh pine and smoky whiskey - and it feels right being tucked into his chest as you cheer and laugh with the other guys and watch them play their game. You have no idea what it is they're playing, no idea what's going on as you try to follow along before nudging Frankie to explain it you.

Your mouth runs try when he tips his head to stare down at you, more than happy to indulge your request but now you're struggling to pay attention to what he's saying. He's so close. Nose almost brushing yours as he leans down so you can hear him and suddenly your hyper aware of the fact that if you lifted your chin just so, your lips would be on his.

Unbeknownst to you, Frankie is grappling with the same realisation.

The moment he'd looked down at you he'd almost froze from how close your face is to his, bright eyes looking up at him, your smile soft and he's hoping with every fibre of his being that you dont't hear the way his voice cracks and drops low when he eventually manages to speak.

He wants to kiss you. The sheer need of it burning in his lungs, clouding his head. Your lips look soft, still slightly glossy from the balm you'd swiped over them before you left, the bottom a little swollen from your habit of chewing it in thought. He subconsciously leans a little lower as he imagines the way they'd move under his - breath catching in his throat as you study him beneath your lashes before tilting your chin ever so slightly.

His lips are almost brushing yours now as he speaks. But then just as you gather the courage to take the leap, a deafening cheer as Benny beats Santi shatters the moment between you and you jump violently. The whiskey in your glass sloshing over the rim and soaking your dress.

"Oh shit, sorry honey." Benny laughs when he sees the mess and you wave away his apologies with a bright smile.

One you worry may be noticeably strained as your mind reels from the fact you just almost kissed Frankie. In a room full of his friends.

After you've just got back from your third shitty date this month and you're not sure if he actually likes you like that. Or if he's even capable of seeing you as anything other than his best friend.

Fuck, what if he was only trying to be a good friend and you just nearly made a move on him?

You leap from inbetween Frankie and Santi, mumbling about changing your clothes so you can rush off upstairs before the mortification swallows you whole.

What the hell was he thinking?

Frankie scrubs frustratedly at his face with his hands in the aftermath of you practically fleeing from his side.

He'd nearly cracked and kissed you. Without the slightest hint that his feelings were mutual and also when you were probably still upset from your date earlier.

It makes him feel like shit, like he's sleasy for losing control of himself and almost making a move. He can only hope that you don't think he's trying to take advantage, that you know he'd rather die first than ever abuse his relationship with you in such a way.

Because the truth is, Frankie loves you.

He's loved you from the moment he moved in and you threw him a little welcome party. Just the two of you with beer and pizza and some shitty party hats that you'd found hidden away in the junk draw.

He doesn't want to lose you all because he couldn't keep his feelings in check when you needed him to be there for you instead.

He looks up, brow creased with worry, when you come back down but then immediately the ill feeling swimming through his gut lessens, his chest less tight as warmth blooms beneath his ribs.

You're dressed in sweats and one of his old hoodies - his favourite hoodie that until now he'd assumed he had misplaced when he'd been unable to find it. And he reasons that you probably wouldn't be wearing something of his if he'd fucked up and offended you.

You smile sheepishly when you notice Frankie zeroing in on his hoodie but the way his whole face softens as he looks at you, a hint of pride to the curve of his smile, tells you he doesn't mind the fact that you've stole it. Quite the opposite in fact.

You need to stop looking at him or that look is going to make your already love-weak heart go batshit insane.

Thankfully a higher power intervenes. Your stomach rumbling like the sound of thunder that heralds a storm and you shrug when Frankie frowns at you.

"What?" You ask defensively under the weight of his disapproving gaze. "I had to skip out before the main course had even arrived."

Frankie shakes his head, more in annoyance at your shitbag date for putting you in that position. It's on the tip of his tongue to offer to whip you something up but Will beats him to it.

Ever the carer of the group he turns to you, eyes fond and a knowing smile on his lips.

"I saved you some Pizza, hid a plate in the oven for you so these greedy fuckers couldn't steal it."

You're unable to stifle the laugh at the offence his statement causes to each of the boys. Benny looks downright betrayed that his brother would hide food from him whilst Santi and Frankie both have the audacity to argue that they eat perfectly normal amounts of food.

Ignoring their cries of outrage you point at Will, a conspiratorial grin on your face.

"You, Will Miller are an absolute treasure and have always been my favourite."

He blushes slightly but winks back at you amidst more shouts of disbelief. It was a long running 'competition' over who your favourite was and every now and again you'd announce it was someone different just to tease them.

Everyone knows who your real favourite is though, well, everyone but him.

You skip into the kitchen, leaving the playful chaos behind you and when you're once again out of sight Santi takes the opportunity to whack Frankie with a cushion.

"What the hell was that for pendejo?" Frankie scowls at him, rolling his eyes when his friend starts up on the same lecture he gives him every week.

"Go talk to her." Santi replies sternly. "I saw you both before, you nearly kissed her but then you chickened out. You need to tell her how you feel."

"I did not chicken out, Benny's loud mouth startled her and she spilled her drink. Besides it was a mistake." He sighs tiredly. "She's just had another bad date Pope, the last thing she needs is me throwing my feelings at her."

"Que Dios me ayude. You really are totally fucking oblivious hermano."

Frankie bristles at that, yanking off his cap and shoving his hand through his hair in frustration.

"Oblivious to what?! Look I'm not going to go and make her feel uncomfortable with all this when she's just starting to feel happy again after a rough night."

"So what then?" Santi argues. "You'll leave it until it's too late and she's on another date with a man who doesn't deserve her? How long are you gonna keep hurting yourself and her because you're too busy watching her date other people instead of loving her the way she deserves?"

Deep down Frankie knows he's right. How many times have both of you suffered needlessly because he hadn't just told you how he feels. But there's always that nagging doubt in his mind that stops him.

"What if she doesn't want me and I lose her?" He whispers, looking down nervously at his hands.

He's surprised when Will chimes in, the older Miller sharing a look with his brotner before they both smile at him knowingly.

"You won't lose her Fish, just trust us."

You're sat on the kitchen counter when he comes to find you, plate on your lap and swinging your legs happily as you munch on a slice of pizza.

For a moment Frankie just watches you. Suddenly afraid to disturb you when you look so peaceful, fully relaxed whilst wearing his hoodie and eating leftovers.

"Don't tell Benny and Santi." You wink and he chuckles quietly, knocking his slice against yours in a silent toast.

It's a sight he thinks he could see for the rest of his days and never get tired. But thankfully before he can get lost in that in that little fantasy you spot him and beckon him over.

You hand him a slice of pizza from the pile Will has left you, whispering conspiritorially as you grin at him.

Frankie tries to think of multiple ways to start a conversation where he can work up to telling you how he feels. But each one is worst than the last and, flustered with himself, he ends up blurting out a topic neither of you probably want to discuss.

"So do you want to talk about what happened?" He hears himself say and instantly wishes the ground would open up and swallow him.

You sigh tiredly and fiddle with the pizza in your hands as you think what to say.

"It was just the same as always." You shrug eventually, looking at him to gauge his reaction and nodding when he links his fingers through your free hand as a sign to continue.

When you start losing steam, Frankie is quick to get you laughing again.

"They always only ever talk about themselves, money or sex. And I just want to be able to have a decent conversation and to find some things in common, I mean is that really too much to ask." You throw your hand up in exasperation and Frankie chuckles as you brandish the pizza slice like a weapon.

You always get expressive with your hands when you got going on a certain topic and he watches you, amused, as you barell through several other offences your date had committed before you'd ran for the hills.

"Want me and the boys to hunt this guy down and show him a thing or two?" He grins and you roll your eyes before gently jabbing a finger into his chest.

"Francisco Morales." You jokingly chastise. "You, Santi, Benny and Will cannot go after every bad date I have. I mean, what if it's actually me that messes up and you some poor guy that's totally innocent?"

Frankie fixes you with a faux serious look as he ticks off points with his fingers that aren't currently still clasping yours.

"First off all cariño - we can and most deffintely will do that if we even think someone has been mistreating our favourite girl. And secondly." He says the last part softly, dark eyes flickering between yours. "It's not possible that it's you, you're incredible."

You shake your head, smiling ruefully as you try to ignore the fluttering in your chest.

"Frankie you're actually crazy." You tease and he gifts you with a wide, shameless grin.

"Only for you bonita."

An ungraceful snort leaves your lips and Frankie's eyes twinkle in amusement. The two of you have grown closer again and without realising, he's now leaning lightly against your legs.

You wonder briefly how it would feel if you were to part your knees, how his hands would feel smoothing over your thighs as he stepped between them to press into you.

Shit, not the time for those type of thoughts.

Frankie can always tell when you're thinking something you shouldn't and the last thing you need is him catching you thinking about him between your thighs.

You beam up at him, hoping to ease some of the tension that has fallen over both of you by swiping his trusty old hat from his head to plant it on your own.

He quirks a brow at you and you laugh at his grumpy expression - framed by the riot of wild curls that have sprung free without hat to contain them.

"That'll never happen. I love you."

"See maybe this is why I'm single." You tease, voice hitching in mock despair. "I'm too much of a menace, doomed to live a life of chaos before inevitably dying alone. Loved by no one."

"I didn't mean as friend's Frankie." You eventually manage. Cursing internally when it comes out weak and unsure.

You think you've imagined his response at first. Or at least that he's humouring your dramatic antics once more. But when you look at him, there's no rolling of his eyes or the flash of a cheeky grin. He looks utterly serious.

And for the immediate moments that follow all you can do is open and close your mouth back - desperate to try and grasp to a coherant thought but they've all scattered.

"I know exactly how you mean't it cariño and my answer is the same. I love you."

Is this some kind of joke?

It has to be. Right? There's no way your best friend and the man you've loved in secret for ages is actually telling you right now that he loves you.

You can't even let yourself hope to believe it.

"I would never lie to you, you know that."

"Stop lying Frankie, it's not funny." You mumble weakly. Inhaling sharply when his fingers grip your chin and tilts your head up so you'll look at him.

His face is open and earnest and suddenly it hits you. You see it clear as day in the depths of his eyes, in the hidden smiles he's always saved just for you. Each gentle touch of his skin on yours and every time he's been there for you when you've needed him.

"You love me."

It's a statement more than a question and relief hits him like a brick when your resulting smile is blinding. He repeats it again, laughing softly as he leans his forehead against yours and you both jump as loud voices shout through the door.

"Now tell him you love him too."

"I love you too Francisco."

You burst out laughing, realising the three boys are huddled behind the door listening and most likely cheering as you and Frankie finally tell each other how you feel.

When your eyes flicker to his you positively melt at the hopeful spark within them and despite your audience, you're more than happy to indulge him.

His lips are against yours before you can finish his name. Soft and warm as he cups your jaw and you part your knees so he can move closer. Grinning against his lips as he curses in Spanish when Santi's voice drifts through the door again.

Frankie goes to shout back but you bring his face back to yours and slip your hands into his soft curls, lips sliding sweetly over his until he sags against your body and you murmur slyly against his mouth.

"Not that we aren't just gushing with joy out here but can you hurry up and kiss her? If we don't get a drink soon someone's going to die of thirst."

Taglist: @autumnleaves1991-blog @ecuadorlady @readsalot73 @gingerbreadandpaper

"They can wait a little bit longer."

#frankie morales x you #frankie morales x reader #500 followers celebration

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animeyanderelover · 3 years

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Hello!,if you don't mind, could i request Prompt no 120. With Ronald? 😳😳 Thank you!

Clingy baby.

Tw: Yandere themes, unhealthy mindset, unhealthy relationship, clinginess, possessiveness, manipulation

Prompt 120: “Jealous! Jealous! Jealous! Mine! Mine! Mine”

You must have looked quite pitiful right now. You guessed so at least from the way people kept glancing at you, eying you with those eyes that told you that they felt sorry for you. It didn’t really help you right now, instead it only led you to feeling more and more embarrassed and abandoned. And from the way you hunched over, trying to hide yourself from their gazes which only led to them staring more at you, you knew the pressure and discomfort was getting to you.

He hadn’t come. It was not the first time, he was a busy man. But it was the first time he had let you waiting for so long without making his abrupt appearance. He would need a very good excuse for this one, letting you sit and wait for him in this damn bar like a complete fool.

A short glance at your pocket watch told you that he had been already for nearly an hour too late which made you wonder what the heck had him that occupied to come that late. Or had he simply forgotten that he was supposed to meet you today? That would really make you feel stupid and like you weren't that important to him which was why you hoped that this wasn't the case. Or else one whole hour you had sat here for nothing.

For a short moment you listened to the people around you, to all the lulling, laughing and the music in this place. People making toasts, talking and joking together, getting drunk and flirting with each other. The atmosphere around you was so happy and carefree. You clearly didn't fit in right now, an outsider with a gloomy heart watching longingly from far away. You didn't think you could be able to mix in, not when everyone was aware that you had been rejected and waited for still nearly a whole hour.

You drowned the sigh that was crawling up your lips with a huge gulp of the drinking glass in front of you, alongside with your tears of frustration and irritation. You hadn't drunken too much, your tolerance for alcohol was pretty good and so the three drinks shouldn't affect you too much. You slammed the pot angrily down, the burning feeling of the liquid in your throats starting to cause you to feel rather pissed than hurt. That damn bastard would have to do some good explanation or otherwise you would guarantee to give him your own handmade hell.

Without a further word you stood up, wiping your wet lips with your sleeve and throwing some money on the counter. Maybe the man behind the bar wanted to say something, but he quickly shut his mouth when seeing your grim expression, only quickly wishing you a pleasant night which made you scoff. You simply grabbed your coat and stomped quickly out of this place, throwing everyone who seemed to want to speak with you a silent and warning glare that it would be better to leave you alone right now.

But the true thing that had you nearly going berserk was that as soon as you had rushed outside, taking notice of the dark clouds in the sky and the rumbling of the thunder, only shortly after you felt the first raindrop hitting you. Followed by another. And another. And one after that. And shortly after it was pouring buckets out of the sky, leaving you in only a short time completely drenched. You hadn't taken an umbrella with you, you had simply forgotten it because you had feared that you would come to late. Now look where you were.

"I should have just stayed at home snuggled up in my bed.", you thought darkly, pulling the collar of your long coat a bit higher to get a bit protection. Right now you really thought about cursing out loud and letting all of your frustration out, but if someone would hear you they would probably think off you as a drunk creep and you didn't want to make yourself appear even more of a fool. You had enough embarrassement for this day. You didn't need more.

"Stupid Ronald.", you cussed silently, starting to run to reach your house faster and to save this rather unlucky day of yours. And if you were lucky, you wouldn't catch a cold and be able to go to work tomorrow perfectly normal as if nothing had ever happened. Yes, that sounded good. Just forgetting about that guy and making yourself a cozy night. And if he would dare to show up, you would strangle him.

"Hey there! You, please wait up!"

Who the heck would be outside whilst it felt like the whole ocean was pouring down from th sky? You naturally assumed that the guy had to mean you since there was not a single soul outside except you. You felt slightly confused when you turned around, being met with a man around your age running behind you, holding an umbrella in his hand. Wait. Wasn't that one of the people in the bar? Why was he following you?

As nice as this act of his might have been, having ran after you to shield you with his umbrella from the rain, you were really in a salty mood right now.

"What do you want? I'm not made of sugar, you know? I can handle this rain without the help of a wanna-be-gentle-man.. If you want to pity on me, just crawl back to the place you've come from.", you replied in a meant-to-be-mean voice, giving him a grim look that obviously surprised and shocked him, staring confused down at you. Such rudeness had he probably not seen coming, especially from someone who had been ditched and was soaked from top to the bottom with the rain.

And maybe you had been expecting him to leave after this, hoping to have signaled him that you wanted to be left alone and just go home, throwing yourself in your bed and forget this shitty evening. You had for that moment lost the belief in kindness and understanding of living beings for others. That was exactly the reason why you got flustered when he instead of being offended and insulting you back, he just gave you a smile and scratched his head a bit.

"I don't think that would be a good idea. I noticed that you have no umbrella with you and when the storm started, I simply got worried. It's also pretty late and whilst I see the chance of someone with bad intentions being now outside, I still thought it would be wiser to accompany you a bit until you're brought home."

You gave him the raised-eyebrow-look, not completely buying his reason. You guessed he might just be a very friendly person, but that was not enough of a reason to let him do as he planned. "I appreciate the help, but I can handle myself just fine. Thank you for caring though. In that area you're better than a certain someone.", you grumbled out, pushing him a bit away and enduring the never-ending rain once again.

"I know how this feels."

This made you stop, glancing behind you at the guy whose smile looked by now a bit forced, recalling a memory he didn't like to think about.

"Excuse you?"

"You've been waiting for someone in the bar, haven't you? The way you've constantly been staring at your pocket watch, the entrance and the way you've looked sadder and sadder. I know that feeling as well, it's quite disappointing, having your high expectations crushed just like this whilst everyone around you doesn't really care. Makes you feel like you want to yell all of your frustration out and to punch the air. I guess I just wanted to...try to help you and be a bit there for you. I know I'm just a stranger, but maybe I can still help."

His short speech managed to dumbfound you a bit, for someone who looked like a small troublemaker he was quite the decent guy. "So he's been left waiting before as well, hmm?"

Your anger was quickly vanishing, sympathy starting to bubble up in your stomach for the man who still looked like he was upset about it.

"How long have you known the girl before...you know?", you asked, careful to not trigger him. "A few months. She was really cute and kind and I really thought that we got along very well. But apparently I was wrong. She left me for another one. I hope that in your case it is just a misunderstanding, but it still weights quite heavily, especially when they were the one who planned it in the first place. It makes you feel like an idiot."

He knew indeed how you felt currently, giving you a sudden temptation to tell him a bit about yourself. He didn't look like someone dangerous. He himself had seemed pretty isolated from the rest of the people in the bar, maybe because he had been rejected in there as well. This bar was definitely not a good place for couples, was it?

"If you don't want me to do this I'll leave. You just looked so sad, I thought that maybe a bit company would feel good. You don't have to talk or anything like this."

"It's fine. Having someone to talk too right now does sound nice. Better than getting caught in thoughts of how to kill my boyfriend for not coming to our date like this."

That guy, Simon was his name, turned out to be quite the fun guy to be with. Both of you got along surprisingly well, even though you intended to keep it in a platonic way. Talking to him helped you calming a bit down and you knew that you still loved Ronald and had to let him explain himself later on. But only after you had forgiven him completely.

Who knew, maybe you would run one day into that guy again. But you definitely felt grateful when he escorted you home, said his goodbye and left you afterwards, mentioning before that that he believed that your boyfriend had to have some sort of accident since no one would just ditch someone like you without a good reason. He was nice and you actually ended up wanting to punch the girl who had rejected him for someone else.

“Well, this day was not as terrible after all. I just want to go to bed and sleep now. I’ll pass on the bath.”, you decided, stretching yourself and letting out a yawn whilst putting your cloak somewhere where the fabric could dry.

The storm was still going on, thunder and lightning interrupting the silence every once in a while and you hoped that your new friend would arrive safely. He had mentioned that he lived not too far away though, so maybe he merely needed a few minutes.

No way that someone would be still out in this unbearable weather, right?

So the sudden knocking on your door, persistent and loud, startled you a lot more than you would want to admit later on, every once in a while being covered by the growling of the sky.

“(y/n)! Please open the door! I have to talk to you!”

That voice…No way! You could have hesitated for much longer whether to let him in or not, but when a sudden hit of the wind whipped raindrops against your windows and you realized that Ronald was still standing outside, you decided to show mercy. You had gone through this storm as well.

That did not mean that you harbored salty feelings inside of you when you turned the doorknob around, planning to lecture him the moment you would see his face.

However, the first word you had planned to spit out got stuck in your throat when you saw the condition he was in. Well, the fact that he was completely wet was no real surprise to you, your hair was still dripping as well and even your clothes under the cloak had not been unharmed. But he looked like he had gotten in some sort of fight looking at his torn clothes and you could see a bruise on his face.

“Ronald! What happened to you?!”

You quickly checked for any blood, but luckily didn’t find anything except the blood on his face, helping you to feel relaxed a bit. He had no serious injuries except a few bruises here and there, but this was more than enough to make all of your anger fade away. Suddenly you had a pretty solid idea to why he had been so late, remembering the stories you had been told about street gangs targeting persons alone and beating them for money and whatever they might have with them.

You attempted to support him with your body, but he just quickly walked inside, slamming the door closed behind him and leaning against the wood. The look on his face was…hard to describe, but you definitely knew that it gave you an eerie vibe.

“You surely seemed to have fun with that guy.”

Apathetic. He sounded incredible apathetic in that moment, looking with exhausted eyes at you, betrayal swimming in them. Originally you would have yelled at him that he had come too late, but how could you after having seen him in such a condition?

“Ronald…He just walked me home because I had nothing to shield me with from this rain.”, you said weakly in your defence, guilt consuming you for ever having doubted him like this.

“I know that. I know that I must have made you think I forgot when I came so late. I got caught up in some troubles whilst finishing my work. I hate doing overwork and just today I wanted to finish quickly. Still though…Couldn’t you have just waited in the bar until the storm was over? I had to rush the whole way from there to your house after being told that you left and one of the guys from the bar followed you.”

You really didn’t know how to reply. Had he seriously thought that you would wait that long for him? Was he that confident in you? It was either really arrogant of him to think that or he really just trusted you sincerely that much. And since you felt currently terrible, the latter on got the better of you which made you indeed feel like the culprit. If you would have waited just a bit longer…

“Are you mad with me?”

“No! How could I? I’m just glad you weren’t seriously hurt.”, you protested fiercely, feeling a familiar stinging in your eyes.

“Good to hear. I was quite worried when I caught a glimpse of you with that other guy since you looked like he had just made your day a better one. I know I shouldn’t feel that way, he only helped you. But still…”

When he suddenly latched onto you, pressing his wet body against your own and causing you to worry that he would hurt himself like this, you quickly noticed that he really was worn out now, leaning his weight against yours for a bit support.

“Jealous! Jealous! Jealous! Mine! Mine! Mine!”

It made you almost laugh when hearing him chanting those words if it wouldn’t have been for this rather messed up scenario and that he didn’t sound like his usual self, much more distraught which made you wonder if this was really only because why he had seen you with your new fellow or because of what had happened to him. But one thing was clear. You wouldn’t doubt him like this again.

#yandere black butler #yandere kuroshitsuji #yandere ronald #yandere ronald knox

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