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queen-haq · 3 years

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Fic: A Woman Scorned - Part 17

Pairing: Billy Russo x Reader

Rating: R for language and smut.

Words: ~3300 words.

Summary: You’ve been sleeping with Billy Russo for a few months now. Knowing his aversion to emotional commitments, you’re satisfied with your clandestine arrangement until you catch him having dinner with Dinah Madani one night. Then it finally dawns on you. It’s not that he doesn’t want to commit, he just doesn’t want to commit to *you*.

Billy may think he knows you, but he has no idea what he’s just lost…

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16

Part 17

Billy couldn’t stop gawking at you, wondering how it was possible you grew more beautiful each time he saw you. The red wrap dress you were wearing accentuated all your curves, and it took every bit of willpower he had not to rip it off of you and fuck you senseless right then and there. Unfortunately, he had to behave himself. Caravan was a pretty bouji place that had recently been labelled as one of the hottest restaurants in Manhattan and he had to pull a few strings to get a last-minute reservation for tonight. But seeing the smile on your face when you realized this was where you were dining had been completely worth all the hassle.

As the hostess guided the two of you to your table, he noticed a few assholes at the bar admiring you from afar. Immediately he snaked his arm around your waist to draw you in closer. You were his. If he could he’d pluck out every one of those fuckers’ eyes so they never made the mistake of looking at you again. Better yet, he’d keep you locked behind closed doors. Of course you wouldn’t agree to anything like that because you were too goddamn independent for your own good.

“What’s wrong?” you asked, taking a seat at your designated table.

Billy’s attention returned to your face as he followed suit, his gaze inhaling you in. “You look too hot. Too many assholes staring at you,” he grumbled.

The worried look on your face was replaced with a beaming smile, one that made his cock twitch.

“You’re being ridiculous” you remarked, scanning the menu.

His eyes drifted down to your chest, the swell of your soft, supple breasts just begging to be kissed and licked by him.

“Stop staring at my boobs, Billy,” you chastised even as a small smile graced your lips. “This is a proper first date. You can’t just ogle me like that. You have to behave like a gentleman.”

He quirked his eyebrow. “Sweetheart, I’ve never been that.”

“Well, try,” you ordered.

The waitress came by with the bottle of red wine you’d requested and poured some in both of your glasses. He noticed the redhead giving him a friendly smile, her green eyes lingering on him for a second too long. Fine, yeah, she may have been hot but she wasn’t you. No one was. So while he would have happily slipped her his number in the past, now the idea of being with someone who wasn’t you no longer excited him.

Once she left, he took the opportunity to move a few inches closer to you. What he really wanted was to get on his knees and bury his head between your legs, but something told him eating you out in in the crowded restaurant wouldn’t go over very well with you.

“I think she likes you.”

Hand propped on the back of your chair, he started playing with your hair. “Who?”

“Our waitress. She didn’t look at me once, her eyes were on you the entire time.”

He leaned in, ecstatic at the thought of you acting possessive. Even though you’d confessed to having feelings for him, Billy still worried you were ready to bolt at any moment. To see you jealous meant you genuinely cared and he didn’t have to worry about you leaving him. “She’s not my type. I have my eyes on someone else.”

You made a show of looking around the restaurant. “Oh, is Madani here too?”

“Funny,” he retorted, taking your hand in his.

“Your ginger’s lucky. I’m dressed way too nice or I’d take my knife and stab her with it.”

He smirked. “You’re vicious when you’re jealous.”

“I’m not jealous. I just don’t like bad service.”

“Bullshit.”

“Billy, you’re hot. You know that. All the women here are checking you out. If I freaked out every time someone did that, I’d have a breakdown.”

He wanted to destroy the fucking world at the thought of someone even looking at you but apparently you were simply ambivalent about him. “So it’s that easy for you? Your brain tells you to turn off a feeling and your heart just does it?” Even to his own ears he sounded bitter. “Guess you’re not all that invested in me.”

Your eyebrow quirked up, apparently surprised by his edgy tone. “Do you want me to go nuts?”

“Just want you to give a damn.”

“You think I don’t?” you snapped. “Every time she looks at you I want to tear her hair out. Even though the rational part of me knows she’s probably just flirting with you because it’s part of her job or she’s hoping for big tips. Or maybe she really does want to fuck you. Either way, I want to punch her across the face. Happy?” You gulped down your wine.

Grinning, he squeezed your hand. “Then why not just tell me that? Why act like you don’t care?”

The agitated expression on your face was replaced with tenderness, your eyes soft. “Just because I don’t have a jealous fit doesn’t mean I don’t care. I just…” You exhaled a sigh, and he sensed this was difficult for you. “I express my emotions differently than you.”

“I noticed. You put on an act while holding everything in.”

“Yeah, I guess.”

“But I want you, the real you, not the version everyone else sees.”

“It’s not that easy, Billy.”

He brought your palm to his lips. “I’d never told anyone about my mother.”

“You didn’t tell me either,” you pointed out.

“You found out anyway, and I’m so fucking glad you did. Otherwise I wouldn’t have realized I could be real with you.” He placed a tender kiss on your skin. “I don’t want to hide anything from you, Y/N.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.”

“Then tell me about William Rawlins.”

Your request gave him pause, his eyes roaming over your face. He’d taken painstaking measures to keep his partnership with Rawlins a secret yet you’d discovered it. “What do you want to know?”

“He gave you a lot of money.”

“I earned that money,” he said in a defensive tone. “He and I were partners for a while. Then he died.”

“You went to a lot of trouble to hide your connection to him.”

“You found out about it though.”

You shrugged your shoulders. “I’m good at what I do.”

“Yeah, too good,” he muttered. He released your hand, watching you intently. “So what do you want to know?”

You leaned in closer, your voice barely above a whisper. He was momentarily distracted by the sensation of your tits pressed against him but he forced himself to concentrate.

“What happened to Rawlins, did you have anything to do with it?”

Billy took a swig of his wine. “Why do you think that?”

You quirked your eyebrow at him. “Knifed by someone in the parking lot. They never found the guy who did it.”

“He had a lot of enemies,” he pointed out.

“Okay, so maybe I was wrong.”

He studied you for several seconds, trying to decide if he should take the leap or not. “You’re not wrong.”

Realization dawned on your face as the truth set in. “Why did you do it?”

“You sure you want to know?”

“I’m asking, aren’t I?”

So he told you, about Operation Cerberus, his role in it and the money he earned, how he’d eliminated Rawlins a year ago when the prick plotted to take out Frank and his family. To this day Frank didn’t know about Billy’s partnership with Rawlins or how close he came to dying and he intended to keep it that way.

Throughout his confession his eyes were glued to your face, gauging your reactions. The part of him determined to do anything to be a success, the one who didn’t let society’s morals get in the way of his ambitions, would never be accepted by his closest friends. Despite the myriad of reasons to have kept that side of himself hidden, he didn’t want to do that with you. Because as risky as it was to be so open with you, it was also exhilarating. There was no one in this world he’d ever been this honest with and that kind of intense connection with you was addictive. He wanted you to know everything about him, all of the dark and vicious thoughts that ran through his head, the burning ambition that kept pushing him forward. He wanted you to know him inside and out and he wanted the same from you.

Before he could prod you to speak your mind the server came by with your dishes, setting your meals on the table. The redhead took her time, all the whilst your gaze was focused on the table, avoiding his. Billy’s heart started to pound in his chest, he was suddenly filled with doubt. Had he made a mistake in telling you the truth? Did he just completely fuck this up? Every second the goddamn redhead lingered at the table felt like an eternity when all he wanted was to shake you out of your stupor.

The second the server left, he moved in on you. “Are you gonna say something?”

You finally looked at him, your forehead burrowed. “We need to do a better job of hiding your history with Rawlins. I found it, that means someone else can too.”

“You gonna help me with that?”

You shook your head ‘yes’. “Yeah, I have to. You need me.”

“What I did doesn’t bother you?”

You exhaled a heavy sigh. “Of course it does, but there’s nothing I can do about it. You’ve seen me at my worst and you didn’t judge me. I won’t do that to you either. Besides, when the universe deals you a shitty hand you’ve got to find other ways to even out your odds.”

A strange feeling of warmth flooded over him, compelling him to angle forward and kiss you on the lips.

You pulled away a second later, smiling at him as you rubbed the corner of his mouth. “This lipstick isn’t kiss-proof.”

“I don’t care.” Wicked visions of you flashed through his mind. Your bold red lips wrapped around his cock, sucking him off the way he liked it. His cum spread over your tits, your neck, your lips. The taste of your sweet, delicious cunt on his tongue as he fucked you with his mouth. The heat of your tongue against his as he rammed into you over and over-

“Stop looking at me like that,” you warned.

“Then stop looking so hot,” he snarked.

You smiled, biting down on your bottom lip.

It blew his mind how sweet and shy you were when he paid you compliments, like you didn’t expect that from him. Obviously he needed to fix that, because you deserved to know how insanely beautiful you were all the time.

“Has Anvil been okay without Rawlins?” you asked, taking a bite out of your butternut squash ravioli.

Swallowing his steak, he wiped his mouth with a napkin. “It was tough for a while but we’ve been doing pretty well the last few months.”

“You should be proud of what you’ve accomplished, Billy. You took a big risk going into business for yourself and you made it work. That’s amazing. I could never do that.”

Billy’s insides radiated with happiness. Other than Curtis and Frank he never really had people who genuinely believed in him so to have you cheering him on was exalting. Especially considering you were great at what you did and he had so much respect for you.

He poured himself and you more wine before reaching for your hand again. “I think you could. You’d make a shitload of money if you freelanced.”

You shook your head ‘no’. “No way, I’m too much of a coward to take a risk like that.” You took a sip of your wine. “Plus I get to go to Paris for work.”

“Or you could go to Paris on vacation and not work.”

“Then I’d have to pay for it,” you pointed out, grinning. “When you grow up the way I did, you learn to appreciate free things.”

Your enthusiasm was infectious, he couldn’t hep but smile back. A part of him was hoping this would be the perfect opening for you to talk more about your childhood, about everything you went through, because he desperately wanted you to trust him as much as he trusted you with his secrets.

“I’ll be there for two weeks,” you continued, oblivious to his disappointment. “We’re going to scout out locations for the new branch and-”

“We?” Billy interjected.

You cast him a quick glance. “Roger’s coming with me on the trip.”

The jealousy that struck him felt like a swift kick to his gut. Images of you and that goddamn bastard traipsing around and enjoying romantic date nights in Paris assaulted his mind. Agitated, he pulled his hand from yours. “I bet that fucker can’t wait to be alone with you.”

“Billy, come on. You can’t be serious.”

“How would you feel if I took off with someone who wanted to fuck me?”

“First of all, he doesn’t want me.”

His jaw clenched with frustration as he glared at you. “I’ve seen the way he looks at you. He’s thought about fucking you.”

“Even if he does, I don’t want him.” You reached out to cup his face, your voice so soft and tender in your attempts to placate him that he momentarily forgot how upset he was. “You really think I’d jeopardize what we have for a fling with Roger? I wouldn’t do that.”

“Then don’t go. Turn him down.”

Irritation flickered over your face, he could tell you were done coddling him. “Billy, you have no right to ask me that. I’d never interfere with your work.”

Underneath all that jealousy he knew you were right. As much as he despised the idea of you going away to Paris with another guy, he couldn’t demand that you not go on work trips. If you did that to him, it would annoy the fuck out of him. Yet despite his rational side recognizing he was asking for too much, he couldn’t help but feel bitter. “That asshole’s gonna make a move on you, I know it.”

“What if he does? What do you think is gonna happen?”

Hs eyes met yours, urgently seeking some kind of validation from you. “You tell me.”

“Do you think I’m going to sleep with him?”

He flinched. “Don’t talk about fucking another guy, please. You’re gonna make me lose my appetite.”

You took his hand and placed it over your left breast, probably to distract him from all the disgusting images that were running through his brain. “I wanted you so badly and even then it took me like a month to fuck you. Trust me, I’m not going to sleep with him when I’m not even attracted to him.”

Spotting the earnestness in your eyes, the knot in his stomach finally loosened. Roger may have had a hard-on for you but Billy knew you felt nothing for the fucker. He’d noticed that even at the night of the gala. So that meant he had to trust you, there was no reason not to. “Call me every night when you’re there,” he grumbled.

“Every night? You’re probably going to start blocking my calls,” you laughed.

He booped your nose. “Every. Fucking. Night.”

You beamed. “Fine.” A wicked glint flashed in your eyes, a seductive smile on your lips as you slowly moved his hand lower, his fingers now on your nipple. “Hey, just ‘cause you’re not there with me doesn’t mean we can’t have fun.”

He stroked your nipple over the fabric of your dress, enjoying how the nub hardened under his touch, the way your breath hitched in your throat when he continued his ministrations. With his other hand he tucked your hair behind your ear, whispering to you. “Phone sex is alright, but nothing beats this.” His tongue curved along the shell of your ear, and you trembled against him. “Right?”

The waitress seemed to come out of nowhere this time to ask how your meals were, and you jumped back. Disappointed, he sighed.

“Food was great. Thank you,” you replied, smiling stiffly at the redhead.

“Can I get you anything else?”

“Privacy would be great,” Billy muttered.

You kicked him under the table. “Dessert menu?”

“Sure. I’ll bring it right over,” the waitress said, taking your plates away.

“I’ll give you all the sugar you want once we get outta here,” he murmured seductively, caressing your thigh.

You giggled, rolling your eyes. “That’s a terrible line!” You took his hand and removed it from your thigh. “Billy, I’m not sleeping with you tonight.”

“Why not?”

“Because it’s our first date and I don’t put out on the first date.”

“Now that’s a terrible line,” he fired back, mimicking your earlier tone.

“Also, we already had sex this morning.”

“So? I’m greedy. I can’t get enough of you.” There was that shy smile of yours again, and he reached out to give you a sweet peck on the cheek. “You blush every time I tease you.”

“I do?”

“Yeah, it’s adorable.”

Your cheeks grew even more red. “I’m not used to it from you. A part of me still thinks you’re bullshitting me.”

Billy stiffened. “Really?”

“I know you’re not playing me,” you reassured. “It’s on me, not you. I just have a hard time accepting when good things happen.”

The waitress came by with the dessert menu. He briefly glanced at it before ordering a slice of pecan pie while you ordered a piece of chocolate cake.

As soon as the redhead left, he broached the topic with you again. “I’m not gonna hurt you, babe. You have to believe that.”

You didn’t look at him, your eyes fixed somewhere on his chest. “I do. You were so pissed off at me last night. I honestly expected you to hit me because you were so angry. But you didn’t.”

It made him sick to his stomach that you actually thought him capable of hitting you. It hadn’t even occurred to him that you would worry about that, but of course you would. With your childhood it made perfect sense, he was just a fucking idiot who hadn’t realized how much it still impacted you. “I’m never gonna lay a hand on you. I swear.” His eyes locked with yours, hoping you can sense how much he meant those words.

“I believe you.”

His voice was insistent, his gaze boring into you. “Why did you think I would?”

Your eyes wavered from his eyes to his lips for a long time, the atmosphere thick with tension. Your facial expressions ran the gamut of painful emotions, from uncertainty to fear to sheer panic.

It finally sank in that maybe the reason you were keeping the truth from him had noting to do with if you trusted him or not. Maybe you didn’t want to be assaulted by memories from the past that caused you so much pain. The last thing he wanted was for you to experience that hell again. Regretting his demanding tone, his hands caressed down the length of your arms. “You don’t have to tell me, It’s okay.”

Your eyes brimmed with aching vulnerability as you looked up at him. “I want to… I just… give me some time, okay?” You pressed your lips against his, giving him the softest, sweetest kiss. “I’ve been looking forward to tonight for so long, I don’t want to ruin it, you know?”

His heart felt full, his mind reeling with wonderment at the thought of you truly reciprocating his feelings. His arms wrapped around you as you sank into him, burying your face in his chest. His fingers stroked the back of your hair, murmuring soft, soothing words to you. Somewhere in the distance he heard the server’s voice trying to interject, but he didn’t give a damn. He was yours and you were his and nothing was going to ruin that. Nothing.

Part 18

A/N - I realize not much happened in this chapter but I just reallly wanted to write a dialogue heavy part where they simply get to know and enjoy each other. I think they’ve earned some fluff. LOL.

As always, thank you for your kind words of encouragement. Please let me know your thoughts.

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#billy russo x reader #billy russo #ben barnes #billy russo x you #the punisher #a woman scorned

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appledotcodotuk · 3 years

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why the hive fckin suck at its job: a rant

spoilers for tgwdlm ahead!

first of all, it's important to consider what exactly the hive's job is. my answer is... who the fuck knows. literally. what is the hive's aim. what do you want Paul? more like, what do you want hive? let's find out!

it kinda evolves, as the play progresses. the intial aim of the hive, and one that does actually remain consistent is the constant burning need to grow and devour and gain more and more (insert capitalism metaphor here).

however, this is distorted by the people it possess who influence that aim, as we'll see later.

also the fact it crashes into a theatre displaying Mamma Mia gives the hive the motive it need to fit the world around it to the structure of the musical. having no originality of its own, the hive instead just picks up what is given to it. kinda like an evil baby.

it wants uniformity, that is indeed its ultimate goal and desire, no duh. it thinks it can achieve that through musical theatre, shame that the hive is dead wrong. cause the hive fucking sucks at its own job / aim / ultimate purpose / one concrete goal that motivates all its actions.

can't maintain control over its subjects

okay, so, the hive wants uniformity. it wants everyone to be dancing to the beat of its own tune. right? yeah. shame it literally can't keep its own possessed subjects in line at all. at the risk of sounding like the 10th doctor waxing lyrical abt humanity for the 50th time, humans are really difficult to control cause we're not really motivated by an altruistic allegiance to one primary good. we've got icky emotions that often move us to do stupid unpredictable stuff way more. it makes me wonder if the reason the hive wanted to use musical theatre to try and persuade ppl was cause it seems to think that is how theyll get emotive humans; through emotive songs. anyways. let's look at some examples shall weeeee?

Mr Davidson:

so, Mr Davidson. funnily enough, he's the guy whose in part acting as the hive trying to figure out what it wants through his interactions w/ Paul. every person it possess gives it just a bit more humanity and curiosity abt the world it is currently taking over. at least I think so. hence why as the musical develops u get character's like possessed!Alice wondering 'why does it hurt to love?' - the change in music and mood to something much more introspective really suggests to me that the hive is beginning to question the thoughts and emotions of its human hosts.

Mr Davidson is a family man through and through, he loves his wife Carol. she's his muse, his source of light. his feelings for her are not concrete or easy to explain and solve - hence why his sudden ahem demand of her is so hilarious and also jarring. it completely clashes with the 'I want song' which is simple, and often pushes forward a wider cause. not so with Mr Davidson, he just really loves his wife man. enough to break a frickin alien possession.

tbh I think its hilarious that (at least to me) the hive has to force him to forget and continue with the song, like, he straight up is just talking to his wife in that phone call, talking, not singing. so, no possession until he reverts back into song. ergo, the hive cannot maintain the uniformity it wants. even from the get go when theoretically its control should be stronger cause it has less ppl to co-ordinate. bad. at. its. job.

Paul:

this one hurts folks. yes, I know it's generally agreed, though somewhat debated that the state of Paul by the end of the tgwdlm is not purely possessed. I agree. once again, the hive is unable to truly enforce uniformity.

at this point, the motives of Paul and the hive are kinda just mixed, neither fully human nor fully alien. hence the constant shifts between pleeing for her to get away, to hide, to stay safe: 'what if the only choice is you have to sing to survive' and just full on old style hive nastiness 'let me puke in your mouth and just open your food bin girl' (so romantic 🥰 /j).

the hive has gone away from its original aim, and become something... different. no longer stuck to just one type of genre or style of song, it's really clever to show the developing complexity of the hive by showing how it is now juggling lots of different motifs with references to all the old songs from before recontextualised in a new way - its learning. evil baby... no longer uniform.

general miscommunication:

there are several instances of the hive not fully having uniform control over its subjects. for instance, right after not your seed with the three teens having to like... calibrate. they aren't just completely connected then?? also, this is a very small thing, but uhhhh at the end of inevitable when Paul is about to say the apotheosis is upon... the chorus interrupts him with USSSSSSS. interruptions??? not very in sync of u hive.

I think this inability to exert uniformity is also shown in the contrast between genre of musical theatre. my alien abomination cannot decide whether it wants to be the more modern edgy rock musical (join us (and die), not your seed ) or super happy go lucky old style musical theatre (lah dee dah dah day, and inevitable). it tries to do both, even while trying to encourage union, and sticking to one thing. hypocrite!!!!!

2. aims are guided by the people it possess

so, I mentioned this a bit already, but the hive isn't only mutating the humans, the humans are mutating the hive right back. this is more an interesting observation than any actual analysis but let's goooo.

greenpeace girl:

I think it's very likely that greenpeace girl is one of the first to be possessed. This is probably easily debunkable but whatever this analysis is flying by the seat or its pants anywayyyyy. why? cause where else would it pick up that whole 'this planet needs fixing' thing? it's interesting too, cause it morphs from expressing the desire to join hands and sing together, unity and peace with no actual action behind it. this then goes right to the other end, with the hive going 'fine I'll do it myself' and trying to save things by enforcing a dictatorship on the world. it develops and changes, and strays from its original means of accomplishing its aims! speaking oooooof...

3. inconsistent in means of accomplishing aims

okay, ur an evil hive mind. u think musicals are the way to win over these silly humans cause they're all weak and emotive and seem to respond to them. but, wait! schwoopsie! you haven't realised that for emotional depth and growth to mean anything, you need there to be established development and well... growth. otherwise the sentiments are as vague as the ones expressed in What Do You Want, Paul?

this show has genuine emotional moments, just not really during the musical numbers WITH EXCEPTIONS. any strife is smoothed over quickly, and so the development and change that would have to go into such growth is just gone. (see, You Tied Up My Heart) all so it can achieve its own desire to grow and grow and grow, maybe a metaphor for art being killed under late stage capitalism??

what actually matters is the impact the songs have afterwards, in causing a death - because we have a bond and care abt these characters. those short scenes between Paul and Emma are actually way more resonant than any song. except... inevitable, and also not your seed a bit. at this point the hive has learnt a thing or two, and can actually twist human emotion a little. but for it to do that, it has to reject the uniformity it prizes, and be adaptable. point towards being more human than it first thought? methinks so. and yet it's just not enough...

it's also why let it out, to me, feels really ingenuine. Paul has expressed himself in much better ways already. what they're doing is clearly paining him, and hurting the guy. he's terrified bless.

you can't force someone into being emotional vulnerable, man.

it's why all the deaths for the characters who are forced to express themselves are really violent, involving them being ripped open - literally forcing them to expose themselves from the 'inside out' as Alice reflects in Not Your Seed. you can't force genuine emotional connection, it has to be fostered, shown in the much more affecting relationship of Paul and Emma. the only reason the hive actually has power over our characters is because of these genuine emotional connections, which it tries and often fails to take advantage of, resulting in just resorting to brute violence. messy hive, very messy.

at the core, the musical's a kinda attack on that toxic positivity mindst: trying to force people to reach the sort of easy solutions by sharing feelings in a way that feels pretty invasive and deciding you are instantly fixed. the problems these characters face are jarringly not really what you'd expect a character in a musical to face, cheating, a lot of it, mid-life crisis. problems that are bland, or wayyyy too real. this is purposefully done, to reveal just how silly the hive's aim to use musical theatre to solve everyone's problem is. life is more complex than that smh.

4. a human can write a much more expressive, and genuine song than they ever could lol

u know which song I'm talking abt. what more is there to say. so much for making persuasive songs to tempt people over.

5. make me sad cause they took some perfectly nice ppl and funked them up 😭

this was a stupid point lol. basically I'm just bitter that this hive took a bunch of perfectly okay ppl and gave them hive brain. screw u hive. I swear I'm gonna watch Black Friday soon, cause I'm sure it's gonna completely destroy every thought I've had so far, but whateve,,, just take this as a look at tgwdlm like it's a stand-alone piece.

these guys are supposed to all be 'individuals' on one level, but also 'appendages of a much larger organism'. there's a little too much individualism and fracturing to be cohesive enough to do that I feel. the hive to me is not an infallible, unstoppable force, in fact, every human it takes over only brings it closer to understanding us. so that's maybe a slight positive note??? idk ?! I just have lots of thoughts and feelings abt this musical even if this doesn't make sense I'm proud i wrote it down hehe.

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gaylotusthatexists · 4 years

Note

what about 'hidden scar' with virgil, maybe from a time before he was accepted where he saved the light sides in the mindscape without them knowing and they only just find out now? thank you so much if u do this! :)

hidden past

fandom: sanders sides

pairing: platonic moxiety

prompt: hidden scar

trigger warnings: unsympathetic janus and remus, injury mention, blood mention, crying

word count: 2293

a/n: this is written for the @badthingshappenbingo! this was very fun for me to write honestly, i hope that y’all enjoy~

ao3

Virgil stared at himself in the mirror, running his fingers across the scars covering his face. They were worse than usual on that day - usually they weren't so visible, easily covered up by a bit of foundation plus his signature black eyeshadow to cover up the worse bits, around his eyes. But he'd been thinking a lot recently, about back then, and about his place now, and... well, he remembered a lot more about that night, about how-

He didn't want to think about it. Patton had called him down for breakfast five minutes ago, he didn't have time to be thinking about it. He began to apply his foundation again, like he did everyday, and soon got to work on his usual eyeshadow, making it a little darker to make sure the scar was completely covered up. He didn't want Patton to see him like this and freak out. He didn't want to be asked if anything was wrong, or about how he got the scar. He didn't want to risk Patton changing his opinion of Virgil, growing scared of him, sending him right back to where he 'belonged', where he came from.

There was a knock on the bathroom door and Virgil nearly jumped out of his own skin.

"You okay, kiddo?" the voice on the other side asked. "You've been in there a while. Your eggs are getting cold."

Virgil breathed in. It was just Patton. How long had he been in the bathroom now? It usually took him ten, fifteen minutes to do his makeup fully, but he was trying some else today to really cover up those scars, and he'd spent a while just staring at himself, trying to calm his nerves before even starting the makeup. He breathed in again. All of this shouldn't be too difficult to explain to Patton. Patton probably wouldn't even ask.

"Kiddo?" Patton said again, and Virgil inwardly cringed for taking so long to think of a reply.

"I'll be out in a moment, Pat," he called, desperately dabbing more foundation onto his skin. It wasn't working - the scars were still visible. A little hidden, and probably invisible if you didn't know they were there, but Virgil didn't want to risk it, couldn't risk it. He could feel himself tearing up now, which didn't help at all, because if he cried properly the makeup would be ruined and the scars would be on full show.

"Alright," Patton said, sounding a little skeptical, "just hurry up, Roman's getting impatient."

Virgil breathed in and out a few times, trying to push his emotions down and pretend that everything was fine. He looked at himself one more time in the mirror. The scars were... mostly hidden. Perhaps visible under certain lights, but as long as the others wouldn't look too closely, things would be fine. He would be fine. He quickly ruffled his hair, fixing his bangs, before packing away his makeup and stepping out the bathroom. Roman immediately rushed past him, locking the bathroom behind him, whilst Virgil slowly make his way down to the kitchen, where Patton was waiting.

"Oh, did you do something new with your makeup?" Patton asked, as he placed a plate in front of Virgil.

After taking a few bites (mostly to delay his response to Patton for as long as possible, he cleared his throat. "Yup. Thought, uh, thought that maybe it'd look cool. I don't know." What he'd really done was add a few lines running down his face, to cover up some of the more prominent scars, but Patton didn't need to know that. "It's not too much, is it?"

"Oh, of course not, kiddo!" Patton exclaimed, sitting down opposite Virgil and beginning to eat breakfast himself. "It looks super cool!"

Virgil gave him a small smile. "Thanks." He turned back to his food. Flashes of that night circled his mind again, and suddenly he didn't have much of an appetite. He pushed his plate away.

Patton frowned. "Are they too cold? I can heat them up for you if you want, or make another plate-"

"No, Pat, it's fine," Virgil said. "Just... not really feeling that hungry."

That didn't seem to make Patton feel any better. "You still need to eat, kiddo! Breakfast is the most important meal of the day-"

"Nah, don't worry Pat, I'll be okay." Virgil stood up. "I can eat at lunch, alright?"

"Alright." Patton shuffled in his seat. "Well, uh, I'm heading down to the market in the Imagination later, you could come with me if you-"

"No thanks, Pat," Virgil said, perhaps a little too harshly.

He hated how blunt he was being, and especially hated the fact that under any other circumstances, Virgil would have gladly accept Patton's offer, which meant that now Patton would definitely know that something was wrong, and he might end up questioning Virgil, and then Virgil would have to explain, and that old wound would be opened up even more, and oh God he could feel himself starting to cry again-

"I'm just gonna head back up to my room," Virgil said, trying to remain as calm as possible, "but I'll see you later, yeah?"

Patton nodded. "Yeah, okay, of course. I'll come check on you before I leave, if you want, just in case you change your mind."

Please don't. "Okay. See you."

He left the kitchen and made his way back up to him room, collapsing onto his bed. It wasn't until his door was closed and he could no longer hear footsteps in the rooms around him that he allowed his tears to pour out, falling onto his pillow. He thought that all of that stuff was behind him, but...

He'd been trying to protect them. The light sides still weren't his friends, not really, but at least if he was there to 'torment' them, he could prevent the others from hurting them even more. Deceit wasn't so bad, Virgil supposed, and Remus was fine sometimes, or would be fine if- if he didn't feel the need to take control.

He couldn't remember which one of them had done this to him. Perhaps it had been all three, each getting their fair share. Virgil had only dared to speak up. The light sides weren't that bad, if they would just drop their act for a while the light sides would probably listen, they would all be able to help Thomas. But he supposed the others didn't want to help, not as much as he did.

Perhaps Virgil was going soft. That's what Deceit always told him. He cared too much about the light sides, about people who didn't give a damn about him. And he wasn't doing anything to help with the 'master plan'. Deceit always accused him of fraternising with the enemy, always implied that Virgil was one of them. He wasn't, of course. At the time, his loyalty would always lie with the dark sides. Not so much anymore, after everything they had put him through, but... In any case, Virgil always wanted to do what was best for Thomas, and if that meant he had to act like a light side, then he would. If it meant he'd have to keep the light sides from getting hurt, he'd protect them at all costs.

So when he had declared it was time for him to step in, of course Virgil had protested. Of course he'd told him to stop, to leave the light sides alone. And of course he had accused Virgil was being one of them - and he wasn't one of them, they all still hated him, but he still felt the need to protect them - but of course when Virgil tried to explain, he had just lashed out. And of course he had called Deceit and Remus, as well, and...

He didn't like to think about it. Didn't like to think about how they'd attempted to hold him back, how he'd screamed and screamed for them to stop, to listen to him. They were supposed to be his friends, his family, and they...

He still remembered the next morning, waking up in the light side's domain just before sunrise, with a banging headache and a soaring pain over his whole face. He remembered rushing to the bathroom and crying when he saw all the cuts across his skin, the black eye and the bruising on his cheek, the blood dripping down his face. He'd cleaned up as best he could, hid away from the others for a few days, a few weeks, maybe even a few months - time had been weird, in that period, hiding from the light sides and being unable to return to the dark sides, placing himself in complete isolation - until he began to look like his normal self again, just... not quite the same. The swelling and the bruising went down, and the bleeding soon stopped, but the scars never faded. And neither did that awful feeling, the constant reminder that he wasn't welcome with the people he'd previously considered to be his closest friends, his only friends.

So he hid the scars. For years and years, every morning he'd have to apply that same makeup, under the guise that he was just doing it to be edgy, and he'd sit through the light sides insults and ignorance, just for a chance of human connection, to pretend that maybe he could have a new family, that... that none of that awful stuff that happened in his past was real.

It still hurt. The scars, and the dark side's words, and the thought of everything the light sides did to him after, the fact that they didn't even know.

They couldn't know. He couldn't let them know. He had that family now, the friends he always wanted, they were nice to him, but... he was scared. Scared that the moment they saw what he truly looked like, that they found how he'd been lying to them this whole time, things would go right back to the way they were before. Roman would certainly find new ways to insult him, probably slipping right back into his old habits. Logan would probably be unsettled by Virgil's appearance, perhaps refuse to hang out with him as much as he did, stop sitting next to him whilst reading his books, what was usually a silent declaration of his trust and love for Virgil. And Patton... Patton would know. He'd find out about Virgil's past, and- and he'd hate him for it. He'd send him back.

There was a gentle knock on his door. Virgil began to panic. He sat up in his bed, noticing that some of his makeup had come off onto his sheets and the rest had most likely been ruined by his tears. He quickly repositioned himself, hiding under his blanket to prevent the outside world from seeing him like this. Just in case the person came in. He didn't reply to them, but... just in case.

The door slowly opened. Great. The next moment, someone was sat on his bed, gently stroking his shoulder. Virgil tensed up.

"Are you alright, kiddo?"

Oh. It was Patton, again. Of course. Virgil breathed in, desperately trying to think happy thoughts to stop himself from crying but coming up with nothing.

"I'm fine," he said. There was a silent echo to his voice, a little deeper than usual. He did not sound fine.

"Virgil, baby, look at me."

Virgil was silent for a moment, before simply saying, "No."

"Virgil-"

"I don't want to."

"At least tell me what's wrong-"

"I can't."

"I just want to-"

"I can't!"

He'd sat up now, throwing the covers off him and looking Patton right in the eye. Patton withdrew a little, a... scared expression growing on his face, then a mixture of fear and disgust, and then... confusion, pity. And Virgil realised his mistake. His scars were on show. Silence fell over the room, and in that moment Virgil just wanted to disappear.

"What happened?" Patton finally let out, his voice quiet and timid.

Virgil hunched his shoulder. He looked down, fixing his eyes on his bed. "I..."

"Should we get Logan?" Patton asked, the fear in his eyes quickly fading, to be replaced by concerned. "Those... Those, uh, they look pretty nasty-"

"No." His voice was still deep and echoey and he hated it.

"Breath, Virgil," Patton said, apparently just now beginning to notice the panic settling in Virgil.

Virgil took several deep breaths, trying to get his thoughts straight. Patton stayed with him, quiet, eyes drifting to the side as if he could sense Virgil's discomfort of being looked at. And once Virgil was ready, Patton listened.

"I've had these for years," Virgil said, slowly. "I, uh, didn't want you guys to know in case you freaked out, but, uh..." Virgil found himself telling Patton everything. All about life with the dark sides, and about that night, and about what had happened after when he was with the light sides, and... and everything in between. At several parts, he felt like he should stop, but knew if he did stop he'd never find the courage to speak about it again. And Patton deserved to know. Even if it meant he'd no longer want Virgil around... Virgil didn't want to hide any longer.

When Virgil was done, Patton just looked at him, tears forming in the corners of his eyes. "Kiddo..."

And then Patton was hugging him, tightly, allowing Virgil to bury his head in his shoulder. Patton was warm, and comfortable, and soon enough all of Virgil's fears from earlier had faded.

"You're safe now, kiddo," Patton said. "We love you. You don't have to hide anything. You're safe."

#bad things happen bingo #hidden scar #virgil sanders #patton sanders #platonic moxiety #janus sanders #unsympathetic janus #remus sanders #unsympathetic remus #sanders sides #thomas sanders #tw injury mention #tw blood mention #tw crying #my writing #my fanfic #my fanfiction

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consultingcriminal · 3 years

Note

ANDROID JIMMY BOY featuring my edgy writing, apologies

-He was built Ig to be a math genius but he kinda sorta rebelled against programming and just learnt everything he could before adding more human looking features to himself, stealing clothes, and then a car.

-He layed low till people stopped looking for himself then chose a random first name that was different from the one "assigned". Since Moriarty means "to die was an art", I say he chose in this AU because dramatic bitch.

-Since he didn't really get any human emotions he doesn't care about breaking the law or hurting people.

-Years later he gets his arm fuckin badly fucked and didn't bring spare parts. Cue Sebastian.

-Sebastian is an (illegal) android... mechanic? Doctor? Idk. He's breaking the law.

-Jim finds him and starts asking millions of questions and Sebastian is confused as fuck until the high end details are given

-He stares at Jim in aww before saying "did you steal from the rich? That's fuckin awesome".

-Jim literally gets a system error because ✨first emotion✨. Said emotion is pride. Is that an emotion? Anyway, he feels pride and nearly shuts down because that's new.

-He manages to lie and say he's getting one shipped to his place and needs Sebastian to stay for a while. He agrees like "eh sure you seem cool." Cue another emotion error.

-So Sebastian stays in the guest room while Jim tries to arrange to have himself fucking shipped and repaired. Eventually he figures something out, telling the mechanic that he has a meeting and what time the android aka him would arrive.

-He just removes the human face plate because that's something he can fuckin do. He also gets a big ass box to lock himself in and takes a fuckin nap so Sebastian can do his job.

-He wakes up when Sebastian powers him on and immediately has another error bc it's the first time he's seen the man smile.

-Sebastian's all gentle and nice and shit to Jim and he keeps getting the same error he got when he saw the man smile and doesn't know what it mEANS

-He can also see how passionate Sebastian is about his job!!

-Sebastian finished working and gives a little comment about the injuried arm, sounding genuinely concerned.

-Jim panicks and blurts out "IT'S FINE" and Sebastian jumps back in alarm.

-The himbo has a smart moment and figures things out and just. "....Jim???"

-Cue Jim awkwardly explaining while putting his face literally back on.

-Sebastian doesn't really care, honestly he finds it impressive cuz they high end programming is hard to break.

-After a moment Jim mentions the errors he keeps getting. Sebastian kinda laughs and pats him on the shoulder. "Welcome to emotions my friend."

-Jim frowns then timidly asks Sebastian for help with said emotions and the mechanic agrees like "eh fuck it you're cool."

-The error messages stop but he still gets notifications about emotions and asks about it.

-Sebastian thinks for a moment before replying "happiness? Platonic love? That's what it sounds like."

-So basically Sebastian isn't 100% helpful but still Jim likes the company and explainations

-Eventually he catches feels and that comes up as an error and he freaks out, calling Sebastian and demanding to know.

-"Uh...damn man, sounds like you're in love."

-Jim freezes and knows he's in love with Sebastian and doesn't know what the fuck go do.

-"Who, um, who is the lucky...whomever?"

-Jim just hangs up and tries to figure out if he can just erase emotions because of course he would.

-Sebastian gets home, absolutely worried sick.

-Jim's still trying to figure deletion out.

-Sebastian rushes over and just starts blurting out concern.

-Jim kinda says "fuck it, never gonna get a chance again" and fuckin kisses Sebastian as erasing memories AND emotions about the man.

-Sebastian still sticks around though, saying he was hired as a sniper and Jim believes him.

-A year passes and Sebastian almost gives up when Jim storms over to him, apparently assuming that he knew, and pulls up the error screen.

-Sebastian nearly gasps in relief, studying it before saying "well you look pissed so I think you're feeling angry, sir".

-Jim kinda shrugs that off, not really caring, and asks how the hell Sebastian knew that much.

-He panicks but tells the truth, he used to be a mechanic. Jim believes him and fucks off back to whatever was making him angry.

-Eventually other emotions start coming. Relief, annoyance, admiration, etc.

-Sebastian still explains but more professionally because he's got a real job now.

-Jim doesn't find much concern in the emotions, in fact they make work easier because being angry gets people to listen.

-Then they become notifications again and he asks Sebastian about it, who shrugs and says "maybe you've accepted that these are going to continue?" and that makes sense.

-Eventually, when he hears about Sebastian pulling off a dangerous and difficult hit he feels happiness.

-Then all other Sebastian related emotions come back and he ends up fucking restarting because Idk, downloading said emotions?

-Sebastian comes home and thinks he's yeeting everything again. Then Jim wakes up.

-He doesn't have the memories but he has the feelings and is very confused.

-"When the fuck did I fall in love with you?"

-Sebastian kinda freezes, relieved but also like "well damn that was blunt".

-He kinda shrugs. "Love works in weird ass ways boss."

-Jim frowns and shrugs, accepting that. I mean Sebastian is human so why not yaknow?

-Because he absolutely doesn't know what he's doing he asks Sebastian what the fuck to do about it.

-"Well you can either try to move on or-"

-Jim just stops listening because he can search shit and yet again just grabs Sebastian and kisses him

-Only this time does Sebastian notice how Jim is absolutely not knowing how to kiss. Like he's doing...things right but there isn't any feeling? Oh and he forgets that Sebastian needs to breathe.

-Sebastian has to break the kiss to breathe, laughing when he can. "You got emotions down but not feeling behind it".

-Jim has an accidental smooth moment. "Well can you show me?".

-Sebastian fucking blushes so hard. Thus cues the awkwardly cute make out session.

Wow this came out longer than expected.

I- THAT IS LITERALLY SO PERFECT, I DON'T HAVE TO ADD ANYTHING TO IT, IT'S PERFECTION

#mormor asks

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generallypo · 4 years

Photo

“I heard your voice, so I came... Aoba-san.”

Hooo-boy, if that doesn’t get me emotional every single time. Call it my bias for eccentric bundles of sunshine and softness, or my crippling weakness for the secretly-handsome-and-devastatingly-earnest type, but you can’t change my mind: Clear is, hands down, DMMD’s best love interest. Character development-wise, thematically, romantically, he nails every trial thrown at him, gets his man, and proceeds to break your heart in the tenderest, sincerest way possible. I am hopping with Huge Fan Energy, so this post is gonna be unapologetically long and self-indulgent and grossly enthusiastic. Yeeeee.

————

Look, DMMD meta analysis has been done to death, I get it. This game is old. But I think it stands as testament to its excellent production that it’s still a game worth revisiting years later — especially during these times when social contact is so hard pressed to come by and we all rabidly devour digital media like a horde of screeching feral gremlins. (Have you seen Netflix’s stock value now? The exploding MMO server populations? Astonishing.) It’s pure, simple human nature to want to connect, to cling to members of our network out of biological imperative and our psychological dependency on each other. As cold and primitive at that sounds, social contact also fulfills us on a higher level: the community is always stronger than the individual; genuine trust begets a mutually supportive relationship of exchange and evolution. People learn from each other, and grow into stronger, wiser, better versions of themselves.

Yeah, I’m being deliberately obtuse about this. Of course I’m talking about Clear. Clear, who is a robot. Clear, who is nearly childlike in his insatiable curiosity regarding the human condition.

And it’s a classic literary tactic, using non-human entities to question the intangible constructs of a concept like ‘humanity’ — think Frankenstein, or Tokyo Ghoul, or Detroit: Become Human, among so, so many works in various media — all tackling that question from countless angles, all with varying measures of success. What does it mean to be human? To be good? Who are we, and where do we stand in the grand scheme of things? Is there even a scheme to follow? … Wait, what?

Jokes aside, there are so many ways that the whole approaching-human-yet-not-quite-there schtick can be abused into edgy, joyless existential griping. Nothing wrong with that if it’s what you’re looking for, except that we’re talking about a boys’ love game here. But DMMD neatly, sweetly side steps that particular wrinkle, giving us a wonderfully grounded character to work with as a result.

Character Design — a see-through secret

Let’s start small: Clear’s design and premise. Unlike so many other lost, clueless robo-lambs across media, Clear does have a small guiding presence early on in his life. It takes the form of his grandfather, who teaches Clear about the world while also sheltering him from his origins. It means he learns enough to blend sufficiently into society; it also means that Clear has even more questions that sprout from his limited understanding of the world.

Told that he must never remove his mask lest he expose his identity as a non-human, Clear’s perpetual fear of rejection for what he is drives much of his eccentricity and challenges him throughout much of his route. As for the player, the mystery of what lies underneath his mask is a carrot that the writers get to dangle until the peak moment of emotional payoff. Even if it’s not hard to guess that there’s probably a hottie of legendary proportions stuck under there, there’s still significance in waiting for that good moment to happen. And when it does, it feels great.

His upbringing contextualizes and affirms his odd choice of fashion: deliberately generic, bashfully covered from the public eye, and colored nearly in pure white - the quintessential signal of a blank slate, of innocence. Contrasted with the rest of DMMD’s flashy, colorful crew, Clear is probably the most difficult to read on a superficial scale, not falling into the fiery, bare-chest sex appeal of a womanizer, or the techno-nerd rebel aesthetic that Noiz somehow rocks. Goofy weirdo? Possibly a serial killer? Honestly, both seem plausible at the start.

And that’s the funny thing, because as damn hard as he tries to physically cover himself up from society, Clear is irrepressibly true to his name: transparent to a fault. He’s a walking, talking contradiction, and it’s not hard to realize that this mysterious, masked stranger… is really just an open book. By far the most effusive and straightforward of the entire cast, his actions are wildly unconventional and sometimes wholly inexplicable. But given time to explain himself, he is always, always sincere in his intentions — and unlike the rest of the love interests, naturally inclined to offer bits of himself to Aoba. It doesn’t take the entire character arc to figure out his big, bad secret — our main character gets an inkling about halfway through his route — and what’s even better is that he embraces it, understanding that his abilities also allow him to protect what he cherishes: Aoba.

So what if he doesn’t fit into an easily recognizable box of daydream boyfriend material? He’s contradictory, and contradiction is interesting. Dons a gas mask, but isn’t an edgelord. Blandly dressed, but ridiculously charming. Unreadable and modestly intimidating — until he opens his mouth. Even without the benefit of traversing his route, there’s already so much good stuff to work with, and sure as hell, you’re kept guessing all the way to the end.

Character Development — from reckless devotion into complaisant subservience, complaisant subservience into mutual understanding. And then, of course: free will, and true love.

At its core, DMMD is about a dude with magic mind-melding powers and his merry band of attractive men with — surprise! — crippling emotional baggage. Each route follows the same pattern, simply remixing the individual character interactions and the pace of the program: Aoba finds himself isolated with the love interest, faces various communication issues varying on the scale of frustrating to downright dangerous, wanders into a sketchy section of Platinum Jail, bonds with the love interest over shared duress, breaks into the Oval Tower, faces mental assault by the big bad — and finally, finally, destroys those internal demons plaguing the love interest, releasing the couple onto the path of a real heart-to-heart conversation. And then, you know, the lovey-dovey stuff.

Here’s the thing: as far as romantic progression goes, it’s really not a bad structure. There’s room to bump heads, but also to bond. The Scrap scene is a thematically cohesive and clever way to squeeze in the full breadth of character backstory while simultaneously advancing the plot. In this part, Aoba must become the hero to each of his love interests and save them from themselves. Having become privy to each other’s deepest thoughts and reaching a mutual understanding of each other, their feelings afterwards slide much more naturally into romantic territory. They break free of Oval Tower, make their way home, and have hot, emotionally fulfilling sex or otherwise some variation on the last few steps. The end.

That is, except for Clear.

Clear’s route is refreshing in that he needs none of these things — the climax of his emotional arc actually comes a little after the halfway point of his route. When Clear’s true origins are revealed, he comes entirely clean to Aoba, fighting against his fear of rejection but also trusting that Aoba will listen. It’s a quiet, vulnerable moment, rather than the action-packed tension we normally experience during a Scrap scene.

That doesn’t mean it’s prematurely written in — it simply means that he reaches his potential faster than the other characters. Because of that, he’s free to pursue the next level of his route’s development much, much sooner in the timeline: he overcomes his fears of his appearance, he confesses his love to Aoba, he leaves the confines of a largely dubious master-servant relationship and allows himself to be Aoba’s equal. Clear’s sprite art mirrors his emotional transformation all the way through, exposing him to the literal bone — and Aoba’s affection for him doesn’t change a single bit. Beautiful.

The whammy of incredible moments doesn’t just stop there, though. I don’t exactly recall the order the routes DMMD is ideally meant to be played in, but I believe Clear’s is meant to be last. And if you do, I can guarantee that it becomes a hugely delightful gameplay experience — in order to achieve his good ending, you must do absolutely nothing with Scrap. It doesn’t just subvert our player expectations of proactively clicking and interacting with our love interests; it grabs the story by its thematic reins and yanks it all back to the forefront of our scene.

In every route besides Clear’s, Scrap is a tool used to insert Aoba’s influence into and interfere with his target’s mind. Using his powers of destruction, Aoba is able to prune whatever maligned thoughts are harming his target; in any conventional situation, using Scrap is the right choice.

But one of the central problems in Clear’s route is his conflict between the impulses of his conditioning and his desire to live freely as a human would. Breaking free of Toue’s programming is what initially made him unique; growing beyond the rules imposed by his grandfather is what makes him human. In the final conflict scene, Clear’s decision to destroy his key-lock is an action of true autonomy, made with perfect understanding of the consequences and a sincere, selflessly selfish desire to protect someone he loves. In order to receive his good end, you have to respect his decision. It doesn’t matter which option you pick — by using Scrap, Aoba turns his back on every positive choice he made with Clear and attempts to exert his authority over him. This is Aoba becoming Toue; this is Aoba trying to reinstate himself as ‘Master’ right as he approved Clear as his equal. That’s blatant hypocrisy, and it doesn’t matter if Aoba is trying to do it for Clear’s ‘own good’ — that’s not Aoba’s call to make. If you truly wish to respect Clear’s free will, you will stand by. This is the truth of the moment: Clear has no emotional blockages that Aoba needs to fix. Believe in him, just as he believed in you.

The path to his heart is, and always has been, clear. Scrap was never needed from the start.

While Aoba might be the main character, Clear is undeniably a hero in his own route just as much. Tirelessly earnest and always curious, he leaps headlong into the unknown and emerges with his newfound enlightenment. He’s unafraid of weathering trials, even to the point of accepting death, and returns anew from oblivion to a sweet, cathartic ending. That’s about as textbook hero’s journey as it gets — if that doesn’t make him unquestionably, certifiably, unconditionally human, then I will scream.

And only finally… there is the free end. The final CG is like a throwback to our first impression of him: indistinct, purposefully obscured from proper view. But this time, we know better — and so does Aoba. Looks were never what mattered in Clear’s route. If you were patient, and you were open-minded, and you listened… well, what we realize now is that Clear was doing the exact same thing for you, too.

From a carefree, aimless robot-man with only the gimmick of “eccentric ditz” to carry him forward, we get a supremely more interesting character by the end: a man who has graduated from the well-intentioned but claustrophobic conditioning of his childhood; a weapon who has defied the imperatives placed on him by his creator’s programming; a wanderer who has, through unconditional patience and empathy, discovered love, and striven to become a better person for it. Who was it that ever doubted Clear’s character? He’s the goddamn goodest boy that ever wanted to be a real boy. Of course Clear is human. And in fact, he does it better than every single one of the actually human love interests. You can’t change my mind.

The Romance — kindness is really fucking attractive, okay.

Like I’ve said earlier, I have my Big Fan Blinds stuck on pretty tight. I might be conjuring sparks from thin air. But I think every choice was a deliberate creative decision on the writers’ part, and they deserve all the kudos for it — I’m just the lucky player who gets to enjoy it. But aside from Noiz (who I also think is a perfect darling as well — I could go on and on about him), Clear’s route is a model example for consent and healthy relationships in VN storytelling. This is reciprocated on both sides: never does Aoba infringe on Clear’s boundaries, and neither does Clear. They’re sensitive to each other’s needs and concerns; they ask for permission and stop when it isn’t granted (and when it is, boy do they get frisky — I’m not complaining!) I don’t need to say much more, because I think that consent is both fantastic and yes, incredibly hot (the scene in DMMD is tons more sad, go play Re:connect!). Good writing shows off the massive erotic potential enthusiastic consent puts into intimacy, and Aoba’s and Clear’s relationship is honestly a dream playground. The point is, I think Aoba and Clear genuinely do find equal balance in their relationship by the end of his route (and certainly through Re:connect). If you follow through Re:connect’s storyline, there’s even more thematic richness that comes through in the form of Clear’s greatest asset: communication. The couple get to discuss the long-term implications of them being together; they both offer concerns, points, and assurances to the other, and it’s just a soft, honest moment not so unlike the worries of a real relationship. Hearing is kind of Clear’s motif sense, but it’s really great to see that Aoba also subtly picks it up, really flexes his own communication skills to better engage with Clear.

Point is, Clear’s route spoke to me on a lot of little levels. Design-wise, he’s already got a ton going for him, and his story builds upon it rather than against it, enriching his development and grounding him a little more solidly in the DMMD universe (and in my heart). His route, aside from being emotionally ruinous, carries a pretty solid chunk of world-building (only beaten out by Mink’s and Ren’s, probably), and the romance feels organic, healthy, and realistic. He’s not the only one with an excellent route, but he’s my favorite. If you read through all of this, you’re a real trooper and I’m extremely impressed. Thanks for tuning in. Peace.

#dramatical murder #dmmd #aoba seragaki #clear #dmmd clear #long ass emotional screeching #lOL I FORGOT TO DRAW IN THE UMBRELLA HANDLE ahA #fixed

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insomnihan · 4 years

Text

han’s Entire Thoughts and Feelings on Dreamcatcher’s “Boca”

youtube

HAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

there are no read mores here so ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

ALRIGHT SO-

THE SONG HAD THE F UCKING NERVE THE AUDACITY THE GUMPTION AND THE GALL TO BE AS BOMB AS IT IS literally the moment i heard that rain and thunder i was f cukity F CIKED the way that they just know how to work with more gentle verse parts and theN PUNCH YOU IN THE FACE WITH THE CHORUS ITSELF SPEAKING OF THE CHORUS ITS F UCKING CRAZY??????????? THAT????????? GODDAMN GUITAR????????????? OWNS MY ASS??????????? OH MY F UCKING GOD JUST THE WAY GAHYEON STARTS IT OFF TO EASE US INTO IT HMMMMMMMMMM- THE ABSOLUTE POWER IN DAMIS FIRST RAP........... SHES SICK™ FOR THAT!!!!!! ‘HOLD UP’ YEAH HOLD UP I WASNT READY DAMN IT!!!!!!!!!!!! THEN DAMIS AND GAHYEONS RAPS IN THE SECOND VERSE YOU CANT EXPECT TO BE OKAY AFTER THAT™ ARE YOU SERIOUS- just all of their voices............ the way theyre just so powerful and emotional and you can tell............. siyeon pls your high notes holy f uck-

WHAT IM SAYING Is this song was such a good follow up to scream like F UCK i literally ask after every comeback ‘will they top this’ and tHEN THEY DO

i was so boo boo the fool like i really thought since diamond and breaking out fell into the same genre that it wouldnt be intense like This im 🤡

SO I WILL BE USING THE COMEBACK SHOWCASE TO TALK ABOUT THE DANCE BC OH MY GOD- so they all said that this song was their hardest dance yet................. queens of dance I F UCJUNG SWEAR

FIRST OF ALL THE BEGINNING POSE IS EVERYTHING™

THE PART AFTER THAT WITH DAMI PULLING YOOHYEON INTO HER SINGING PART....................... i just like it a lot

HONESTLY DAMIS ENTIRE PART

YOOHYEONS PART BEFORE THE CHORUS

THE ACTUAL CHORUS

both the upside down triangle hand symbol AND then for ‘boca’ where they make their hands like a mouth................... Iconic™

GAHYEON WITH THE FLAGS?????????? HELLO????????

and then dami................................. i-

the flags............... sua and jiu and yoohyeon.......... Thinking A Lot™

this part with jius bridge lives rent free in my brain

sua sitting on the dancers shoulders and singing the most hard hitting lyrics in the song thats it thats the bullet point

just................. the WHOLE ENDING

shouldve really just put the entire damn video here but i already wrote it out

THEY NEVER PLAY AROUND WITH THE VISUALS EVER!!!!!!!!!!! THE COLORS ARE ABSOLUTELY GORGEOUS AND VIBRANT THE SETS ARE SO DREAMLIKE???????? I WISH I CAN FULLY EXPLAIN IT BUT ALL I COULD REALLY DO IS DESCRIBE THEM AS THEY ARE- THE PINK SET THEY DANCE IN IS SO COOL TO ME THE PLACE WITH THE TREES AND GRASS AND THEYRE DANCING IN THE F UCKING WATER AND WHERE GAHYEON HURTED US WITH HER RAP AND WHEN THEYRE ALL JUST STANDING AROUND LIKE BEAUTIFUL PRINCESSES AND WHERE YOOHYEON SAT AMAZINGLY- AND WHERE SIYEON STANDS WITH ALL THE BUSTS WITH TAPE OVER THEIR MOUTHS THE SYMBOLISM™!!!!!!!!!!!!!! THEN WHEREVER DAMI WAS IN GENERAL.................. [REST]

TIME TO SHOW WHICH SCENES I LIKED

youtube

THE WHOLE F UCKING THING MOVING ON-

T H E M

okay................................ everyone who follows me KNOWS that im just so whipped for all these women if i was a Brave Bicth™ id tell them they were all beautiful every day to their faces but if this is your first time seeing this CHAOTIC AS F UCK series of posts then-

LOOKATTHEMBEINGBEAUTIFULANDETHEREALPRINCESSESINONESCENETHENBADBITCHESINTHENEXTAREYOUKIDDINGMEICANTBELIEVETHEYREALLYOUTHERELOOKINGLIKETHIS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

JIU

BELLE????????????? BELLE IS THAT YOU???????????? why does Miss JiU over here just got to be one of the most beautiful women in the GODDAMN UNIVERSE I CANT STAND THIS LOOK AT THIS PICTURE!!!!!! i wont lie to yall but it was gonna be this one or the one kinda at the beginning where shes wearing red..................... and....................... her neck- THE RED IS FIRE BY THE WAY AND THE SAME OUTFIT BUT IN LIKE R.o.S.E BLUE WITH THE CHAIN STEP ON ME- and the black one that we dont really see a lot of.................. the sheer of it............ bicth-

SUA

yes it was absolutely necessary for me to use this shot

OFC MY BICTH ASS NEARLY FELL OFF HIS F CUKING BED WHEN SHE SHOWED UP IN THE TEASER JUST COVERED IN WATER I SWEAR I COULDNT BREATHE FOR LIKE TEN MINUTES!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! first of all the red and blue ones just one sleeve and those shorts and all those belts I DUNNO JUST THIS WOMAN AND CROP TOPS OKAY IM LOSING IT IM THIS 👌 CLOSE and then the white dress i cant stand her i really cant-

SIYEON

HOOOOOOOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHO MISS LEE SIYEON OUT FOR MY NECK I SEE- i just wanna point out first that i love her love for pants like the rest of the outfits are gonna be worn for performing and they all have those baggy pants she loves so much pls shes everything im 🥺🥺🥺 tho the braids and the high ponytail without and yknow what WITH BANGS TOO im........................ i cant stop staring at this picture-

YOOHYEON

SHE IS NOW A LARGE AND SCARY DOG-

this specific hairstyle in the screenshot........ the braids the safety pins with the brown and pink or whatever it was like three different colors just the Serve™ she is serving in that with that outfit and the back of her skirt is long than the front im weak in the knees for you maam- oH THAT F UCKING RED ONE GRABBED MY NECK NAILS INTO MY SKIN AND ALL AND ENDED ME HONESTLY and that chain necklace.......................... keeping words to myself-

DAMI

SHES SO HOT AND FOR WHAT my god this blue hair she is WORKING IT- i had such a difficult time even finding a good screenshot of her and i know the moment i just decided with this one that i was just gonna keep getting distracted by it and i am rn as i type this GOD- the all black outfit she shows up in the very first time in the mv..................... [REST] the blue one with the thing on her thigh with the low ponytail................. [REST x2] herself....................... [D*AD]

GAHYEON

POPULAR OPINION: THIS IS HER ERA

THE MOMENT SHE JUST SHOWS UP RIGHT AT THE START SHE GRABBED US BY THE NECKS AND LET US KNOW SHES KILLING IT LIKE THIS this pink hair is doing her like two million favors like the space bun look right here???????? STUNNING just left long and straight??????? BEAUTIFUL the fit with the beige(?) sweater and skirt and that black outfit during her rap verse the pink dress iM D*AD!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

BONUS TIME: B-SIDE TRACKS (short thoughts and parts i liked)

Intro

A SLAPPER WE LOVE TO HEAR IT-

Break the Wall

oH BICTH the way this song took me back to my edgy middle school years listening to music like this MY GOD THEIR VOICES SOUND SO COOL ON IT like they were using megaphones and s hit THE CHORUS IS SO GOOD IM GOING FERAL™ I FEEL LIKE I CAN CONQUER THE WORLD WITH THIS-

Can’t Get You Out Of My Mind

ALL ENGLISH SONG BICTH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! its all about the yearning its so catchy and good i was literally already singing it randomly right after the highlight medley like honestly this and break the wall are so nostalgic highkey- their pronunciation is so so SO good!!!!

Dear

JIUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUU!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 😭😭😭 IM SO SOFT DONT LOOK AT ME!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! she wrote this herself and its just so full of love and thankfulness and gratefulness and appreciation for insomnias SOMEONE PROTECT HER- and then the rest of the members singing so gently and beautifully there are real tears in my eyes...............

LIKE im just gonna say it every comeback now i guess THEY👏NEVER👏DISAPPOINT👏EVER👏 i love being an insomnia so much yknow??? love them as people love them for always providing content and always showing that they love and appreciate their fans and how they always make me laugh and feel better and most importantly of all is THEIR MUSIC not implying anything with capitalizing and bolding that............... unless they are so incredibly talented and show how versatile they are in so many different genres AND THEYVE GROWN SO MUCH IN POPULARITY THIS YEAR AND ARE NOW BEATING THEIR OWN GOALS im so happy to be their fan 😊😊😊 this just became a paragraph of me and how much i love them ANYWAY-

IN CONCLUSION: WHERE IS THE LOVE?????????? ITS BEING DIRECTED AT THIS ALBUM!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

and AS TRADITION:

#time to listen to this and the album until i cant hear s hit no more <3<3<3 #all i wanna do is watch the video but i must get Thoughts™ out #dreamcatcher #han.txt #han's mv afterthoughts

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wookikun · 4 years

Text

aesthetic tag game

tagged by @hiddenclawsof (who wrote the very first WooKi I've read and well I'm facing some unpleasant moments but u still remembers me and that heals me a lot)

rules: bold the aesthetics you relate to and add twenty of your own aesthetic qualities for others to bold.

I'm not gonna tag anyone cuz I'm unfamiliar here but still I want to do this si without tagging I just do it :(((((

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ohnohetaliasues · 4 years

Text

Stones to Abbigale {Ch. 3+4}

(Kat)

I’m doing chapter four also since chapter three is so short.

I hate this book thoroughly.

But here we go.

Briefly after I fell asleep that night I had a dream about Abbi,

Please don’t go the way I think this is going.

it was the first dream I had experienced in some time. I'm not normally the type of person to be deeply impacted by dreams as more often than not I can control them. I can recognize the fact that I'm in a dream and twist things around so that whatever is making me afraid becomes afraid of me. This tactic however could not possibly work in this soon-to-be nightmare, as there was no living monster waiting around the corner. There was no emotion in this machine that was about to reveal itself to me. I could only watch without a physical form. I was just a helpless spectator in my own mind.

Okay so that was actual word salad.

The dream began without any sound; only a deep hum accompanying what appeared to be Abbi laughing in a field of what looked like gray grass from a far. As my view of her revealed more detail I began to realize that what I thought was grass was actually long slender claws.

So this girl is just...

In a field of claws?

Experiencing a more alarmed spectrum of emotion, the audible hum cut out and was replaced by Abbi's screams. The sounds echoed bouncing off the walls of my mind splitting me in two and engulfing the core my being.

I’m so fucking confused.

She was not forming any words in her screams and I began to understand why the more I analyzed every detail. I shifted my perspective to a new angle. I was now above her looking down and could see the claws were pulling her into the ground. She showed no resistance to being dragged into the ground, she didn't even cry for help, she would only scream in pain as she slowly sank beneath the surface. I began to distinctly hear blades and gears violently turning just beneath her.

I cannot fucking picture this happening for the life of me.

It's difficult to explain, but in her eyes I could see she didn't want to be saved as she genuinely felt she had earned the suffering she was enduring.

Edgy as fuck, okay.

She believed she deserved to be ground up until there was nothing left. Once she was pulled completely under I was finally given a physical form in the dream. Dropping from above I landed on the soil she disappeared in. I immediately dropped to my knees and began digging with my bare hands to get to Abbi. I was only inches deep before the ground ripped open forcing me to jump back.

Okay uh.

I have no valid words that could express how I feel right now.

A deep canyon began to form central to where I had begun digging. The splitting and groaning quickly gained momentum. Ripping and screeching sounds erupted all around me as the earth divided before me at a now crippling rate. A hellish sight consumed my eyes as I looked down on the collapsing landmass below. Powerful machines wielding massive blades swung violently scraping dirt and rock with a sound so tremendous I could only faintly hear the screams of countless desperate humans below.

This is just.

Not okay.

I quickly realized the terrified voices beyond the ripping blades were no illusion.

But this is a dream.

Which means it’s an illusion.

Thousands of lives were being devoured in piles, no person among them begging for life rather, like Abbi, they screamed only from pain delivered not just by the roaring blades and gears, but their very existence itself. Suffering & consciousness had become one in the same.

You are not poetic.

Shut the literal fuck up.

I then woke up to my room filled with sunlight, but it could not change the darkness my dream left me with. I felt something inside me change, almost as if I had seen something I was never meant to and now had to find a way to lose the thick cloud freshly looming over my head.

I hate you.

It is as I said briefly before, I feel like a visitor here, like I'm in this world but not a part of it like everyone else.

Shut up, you pretentious asshole.

I study people and situations to find out how they work and sometimes my dreams fill in the emotions and thoughts I missed while I was awake.

Yes, so you’ve said, in a very creepy non-human way.

Not having to go to school that day due to my suspension I decided to write a letter to Abbi.

Cool. Awesome. This won’t be cringey at all.

It read:"When I look in your eyes... I at times feel a level of sadness I have never felt, as if we, despite barely knowing each other, have been apart for far too long.

Excuse me, that’s incredibly creepy.

When I talk to you it is like I am listening to a voice I've ached for yet haven't heard in a lifetime. Every other experience I have with you seems familiar but at the same time, it hurts, like you would feel if you begged for something and only received it when you had already given up hope.

More word salad.

These feelings are all so strange and evolving at a rate that scares me as they are for someone I am only just now truly getting to know.

Even with my brief presence in your life I've picked up on so much suffering and almost feel powerless to create any change.

This is so alarming and creepy and you need to stop.

There are so many wounds, so many scars, so much I only know enough about to fear. I'm trying to understand. Abbi, you have more pain in your life than I can imagine. I hear it in your voice, I see it in your eyes and in the way you move. I just want to see you smile without there being an ocean wall of tears behind your eyes. I want to hear everything you have to say. I want to find a way to heal the damage done until you can forget it ever existed.

THE ONLY FUCKING PROPER REACTION TO THIS LETTER IS TO MOVE TO ANOTHER CONTINENT.

I sent the letter to her email address, moments later the phone rang. Answering the phone I heard Abbi's voice on the other end.

"Hey, can you meet me at the Quick Shop?" she asked.

I responded, "Did you see my email?"

She replied "Nope, why didn't you just call?"

I said, "It would've been really hard to say over the phone, I had to find the words."

She replied, "Ok, I'll look and then I'll head over."

I then confirmed "Sure, see you there".

Yikes.

Shortly after, I got dressed and skated over to meet her. I arrived quickly, thanks to what seemed to be a record speed for me. However once I arrived I found myself waiting for someone who now had no intention of meeting me. I could only assume I had just made myself look like a huge jerk to her. I attempted to call her from the nearby payphone and she didn't answer.

What did you expect? That she wouldn’t find that fucking creepy?

As I skated home, in my mind, I went through the letter I wrote over and over. I began to blame myself, concluding based on her absence that I must have dug too deep too fast.

I scared her away because I reacted on the emotions I experienced in that dream before actually considering the human being on the other side of the letter.

Yeah, at least you’re fucking self aware for once.

I felt like I was just about finally connect with someone only to ruin everything at the last minute.

That’s your own fault. Don’t bitch about it.

Okay, chapter 4.

My suspension had been lifted and I had just arrived back at Lakewood High. Approaching my history class I could hear people snickering as they watched me walk by.

Someone screamed "Wuss! Learn how to fight!" behind me but I just kept walking.

I feel like I’ve read shit like this before.

Oh.

Yeah, it reads like any angsty Wattpad story ever.

As I sat down in class Mr. Hanson walked up to me, he placed his hand on my shoulder and spoke under his breath so others would not hear "Don't worry about the work you missed, ok James?"

It would be preferable that you didn’t use ‘ok’ instead of the word ‘okay.’

But this is terrible, so I don’t have high expectations. I don’t know what I expected.

I looked up at him and he gave me a slight smile. I suppose it's because he felt bad that I was beaten up shortly after trying to get Jason to leave the class alone. It was a lucky break too considering Mr. Hanson's class was one of the few I didn't stop by to see what work I would miss before beginning my suspension.

No. No. That isn’t this teacher’s job. He needs to grade something, and if James didn’t do the work, it would be immoral to put good grades in the grade book when this is the case.

I approached the art trailer feeling panicked over what to expect. I hated that I said anything to Abbi, that I overstepped my bounds and acted like I knew her when I was only going off my own dream-influenced emotional intuition.

Intuition my ass. That dream means nothing at all. Shut your pretentious mouth.

I felt a conflicted hatred towards myself for jeopardizing a relationship with someone that was so important to me.

MY FUCKING GOD YOU’VE HAD THREE CONVERSATIONS WITH HER.

If she did give up on me, I could only blame myself.

Yes. You can.

Opening the door I could see Abbi wasn't inside, instead there were just pieces of my bear sewn to pieces of her bear sitting on her desk. Maybe I was reading too far into what it meant, I could really only hope that there was something left to us that I could sew back together.

If I have to read another bullshit waxing poetic thing, I’m gonna scream. My eyes are already glazing over.

Walking closer I could see something sticking out just beneath the bear.

It was a note that read: "James, meet me behind the church when you get this."

Immediately, I thought of the church neighboring Lakewood High.

I find it bullshit that James was immediately able to figure out what church Abbi meant when she didn’t even specify which church she was talking about.

I stuffed my backpack inside the desk

Your backpack fits in a desk? Either the desk has a large compartment, your bag is nearly empty, or your bag is very small.

I’m going with the last option because it’s the funniest.

and quickly made my way off campus to meet Abbi.

You left your bag in class and just left?

What is wrong with you?

As I approached the church there was a strong forceful wind blowing behind me that made it feel as if I was being pushed to her by nature itself.

I really hate you pretending to be deep, Onion.

I felt like a fool for thinking that, I'm far too unimportant for any significant force to consciously influence my life. I walked around the church only to hear Abbi say loudly "James!" I turned to see her standing under an overhang that reached out from the church.

That is called an awning.

I walked over to her and began to apologize for the letter, but she cut me off saying "Why did you write that to me?"

A valid question.

I responded "I wanted to separate myself from everyone else in your eyes. I wanted you to know I was trying to understand you, all of..."

She interrupted "How messed up do you think I am James? How screwed do you think my life is exactly? Because if you had any social skills, you might know that saying to someone what you did, is... I'm not damaged goods... I'm not broken!"

Her voice was giving out as she began tearing up. "I'm sorry... I was..." I said, helplessly watching tears fall down her face.

This is a confusing and mechanical interaction.

"I was wrong... but I'm here, and I will be as long as you let me." I said.

She wiped her tears and struggled to speak. "The reason you saw what you did, in my eyes, my voice..." she continued to struggle as she cried "You saw the bruises from my ex, but you wanted to know everything."

You two have known each other for two fucking days. Like, you’ve only spoke four times now.

She paused to wipe her tears again. I listened carefully as she continued to speak "James... I haven't been beaten just one or two times..."

I would care more if there was any buildup to this moment or any character development that would make me like this girl.

But there isn’t.

So I feel nothing while reading this, and that is both incredibly boring and unfulfilling, as well as genuinely kind of creepy.

The fact that this does not evoke emotion in me when I should be feeling some form of empathy instead of the apathy I feel disturbs me.

Abbi said as she looked at me as if every word was agonizing for her to say.

I would like to know why she’s telling this to a guy she barely knows.

With tear soaked eyes she continued, "I've been violated beyond that James... by people who called me their friend, people I trusted took advantage of me and that killed so much of who I am... who I was."

I am so concerned that I don’t feel anything here. Are you guys feeling anything?

Her face was consumed with stress, her body shook but she managed to continue, "My mother abandoned me and left me with my father who doesn't even care if I live..." before she could finish I wrapped my arms around her.

She dug her fingers into my back as she pulled me closer and cried into my chest.

As we held each other I said, "You were never damaged, only changed. Any part of you that you think died is just hidden, waiting to come out when it's safe..."

I want to actually die.

Abbi squeezed me even tighter.

I continued, "Every time I see you, you become more beautiful to me than before."

She gripped me more tightly than anyone ever had. She was finally hearing everything she wanted someone to say to her and I was saying everything I wanted Abbi to hear, that is, most everything.

Okay, cool.

I just... This is such a gross fetishization of abuse? It makes my stomach twist. I also feel strange that I can’t feel any form of emotion for these characters beyond annoyance.

It actually bothers me deeply.

This is the opposite effect you want to have on your readers, Onion. you want your characters to be relatable and real so your readers can connect with them and feel something for them. Well written characters are ones you can get attached to.

These characters are poorly written, which is why I cannot relate to them or get attached to them. I’m not saying I’m any kind of master at writing characters, but Abbi has no personality of her own other than the fact that she’s an abuse victim, and the fact that that is all is concerning. I don’t even know what she looks like.

James is the most pretentious, condescending narrator in the world and it makes me physically recoil while I read from his point of view. He is nihilistic, bleak, creepy, and very flavorless. He’s boring as all hell, and again, I don’t even know what he looks like.

Does Onion just forget to describe his characters? It makes it very hard to visualize anything with them.

Okay. I’ll see you guys in chapter five.

This book is actually repulsive.

~Kat

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denjispinalcordsword · 4 years

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Thank u to @exosbaeks for tagging me!! this was so cute! i discovered that like.....i did not bold many of these 😂😂 i felt terrible some of these only have 1 or 2!!! how!! but anyway i gave it a good go

i’m not gonna tag anyone tonight but if anyone wants to do this it’s a cute challenge lol and madeleine i liked going through our answers and seeing which were the same and different :D

rules: bold the aesthetics you relate to and add twenty of your own aesthetic qualities for others to bold

soft

dark academia

edgy

seventies

preppy casual

cinanamon - steph

gold jewelry, slowdancing in the kitchen with a lover, sun on skin, red-tinted lip balm, lazy mornings, getting lost in foreign cities, scent of bakeries, high-waisted jeans, kissing someone’s neck, writing reminders on your wrist, sleeping in braids to have waves in the morning, growing an herb garden, gentle touches, sketches tucked between pages, flushed cheeks, tandem bikes, floating in a pool, vintage gold hand-mirror, deer grazing, softly singing while doing chores

jaesmintea - dia

naptimetea - helena

jeonginks

scxrlettwxtches

listening to a song and remembering the times you used to listen to it on repeat | imagining yourself living in any other life than the one you have now | crop tops and high waisted jeans | forgetting to smile but not actually being upset | nuzzling your face in the crook of their neck | back hugs when you’re stressed | turning in assignments 1 minute before they’re due | wanting a relationship but getting scared the moment you’re in one | pretending that you don’t care when inside you’re burning with doubts and fears | the sound of the evening waves as you lie on the sand | lying in your bed listening to your sad playlist | exhaustion but you can’t sleep | singing loudly when you’re the only one home | feeling safe and comfortable with that person in your life | knee high suede black boots with your black winter coat | comfort over appearance | writing essays at 2 am | creative peak from 1 am to 4 am | the one that always ends up walking in the back of a friend group

hyunsracha - sav!

lveletters

dnceracha - sydni

exosbaeks

joohoneyonehunnit (leila)

#whew! all done hahahaha!

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l0velyang3l · 4 years

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So, I’ve been dealing with some really intense mental health stuff lately and as a result I’ve been on a p rough art block. Be prepared for some meh art and meh posts. Recently I’ve been having some intense nightmares so here’s a super edgy, self indulgent self insert fic I wrote.

CW: Assault, Wound Mentions, Yandere, Implied Violence, Mental Health Stuff

((Note: Slabak= Dweeb in Russian, Lyubov=Love)

It all happened so fast. A blur of punches, kicks, slurs, blood erupting from my throat, none of it was processed mentally until I stumbled through my front door. I heaved, my arms trembling as I hoisted myself up, attempting to crawl inside. “Ivan! Viktor!” I weakly whimpered, my vision blurring slightly with each movement. My chest felt rattley and frail, each breath hurting deeply. Tears fell down my puffy cheeks. Ivan and Viktor bounded into the room, taken aback by the pitiful sight I’d become. Immediately they fell to their knees, scooping me up in their arms. Ivan’s face was panic stricken, while Viktor’s worry was more subtle, yet palpably evident. I shook in their arms terribly.

“Lyubov what happened?” Ivan panickedly asked, his large hand cupping my cheek. I’d never seen him look so frightened. I shook my head.

“These men.. I was just walking back from a cafe and… They kept yelling and yelling, and before I knew it they were hitting me..” I replied, the memory alone frightening me. Viktor’s eyes darkened, a look of raw hatred and venom reflecting in his crimson irises. Viktor turned to Ivan.

“Grab the baltics immediately, make sure they call a doctor over now. I’ll take them to bed, if they move they might open their wounds further.” Said Viktor, prying me out of Ivan’s grasp. Ivan nodded, scrambling off. Wordlessly Viktor cradled me, my head resting against his hard chest. The sound of his heartbeat was soothing, despite it’s rapid pace. He glanced down at me as he walked, taking in my haggard appearance.

“Aaron.”

“Yes hun?”

“I know you’re in lots of pain, but I need you to tell me where you were and what these men looked like. Please.” His tone was uncharacteristically desperate. My heart waned, the stress I clearly brought them riddled me with guilt. Someone like Viktor never gets this outwardly stressed. I buried my face in the fabric of his coat. I gave him a brief description as he listened intently. I told him which cafe I was at, and what time. Gingerly he placed me down on the soft mattress, pulling blankets over me. Suddenly, the world went black.

Aaron completely blacked out, their body going limp against the cozy sheets. Viktor stroked their hair out of their face, accidentally smearing blood across their cheek. He growled, slamming his fist through the wall by the bedframe. An unsuspecting Lithuania jumped, shakily leading the doctor in.

“V-Viktor he’s here..” He nodded, shaking the doctor’s hand briefly, giving him an emotionless glance.

“Do what you must, excuse me.”

Viktor silently slunk out of the room, finding Ivan shuffling through a large cabinet in the living room. He unveiled a large metal pipe. Opening the cabinet doors further revealed a large array of guns, knives, and other weapons. “You’re already ahead of me.” Viktor jeered.

“It is not the time for jokes Viktor.” Replied Ivan, in an eerie tone. He passed Viktor a pistol, he slid a loaded magazine into it.

“Those foolish bastards have no idea who they are fucking with da?” He crouched down, sliding on his boots, tying them briskly. Ivan nodded in agreement, chucking sinisterly.

“No, no they do not.” The pair slipped out the door silently.

I awoke covered in bandages and aching terribly. A sweet old doctor looked over me as I laid in bed, smiling politely. “Aaron! I’m happy to see you awake, how do you feel?” I surveyed my surroundings. It was just me and him, no sign of my russian husbands or the baltics. I attempted to sit up, but was overwhelmed by excruciating pain. I rubbed my forehead.

“Achy… But, I think the bleeding stopped.�� He nodded, shuffling through his bag.

“Ah, that is to be expected. However I’m glad to hear the bleeding stopped. Here, take this painkiller for a week, it should alleviate the pain. Is there anything else I can help you with?’ He passed me a small packet of medicine.

“How bad was the damage?... I kind of mentally blocked out the details..” He rose up from his chair, slinging his bag over his shoulder.

“You have multiple cuts and scratches, along with some rather severe bruising. The blood loss was the main concern, however with a few stitches and meds I fixed you right up.” My face turned pale.

“Oh.” I’m not the best at dealing with medical stuff to say the least. My stomach dropped at the word ‘stitches’.

“Please give me a call if anything pops up alright? Get plenty of bedrest and try not to move very much.” He waved as he left, leaving me alone with my thoughts. The incident sent chills down my spine. I glanced at my hands, examining the scrapes covering them. I sighed, tears welling up. I brought my knees to my chest, curling up and sobbing quietly.

“I’ve never been great with pain, nor have I ever been in a fight before. Well.. Not necessarily a fight, more like a one sided attack. I can’t even punch properly! Why did this have to happen?...” I thought to myself. I balled up my fists, gripping the blanket. “What’s worse is that I made Ivan and Viktor worry.. I wonder where they are.. I’ve never seen them make faces like that..” A knock on the door interrupted my self pity. “C-come in..” I hastily wiped my tears, attempting to fake calmness. Ivan and Viktor came into the room, both of them looking much more calm.

“Hello little one!~ I brought cookies and your favorite tea!” Ivan cheered, walking over and setting a bag on the nightstand. Wordlessly Viktor crawled into bed with me, not even taking time to kick off his boots. He wrapped his arms underneath me, pulling me up in his lap very carefully. He rested his chin on my shoulder, sighing contently.

“Aw hey guys! Ivan, you did not have to indulge my grocery store frosted cookie addiction, but thank you..” I smiled weakly, my cheeks still red from crying. I kissed the top of Viktor’s head. Ivan came onto the bed as well, sliding his legs underneath Viktor’s. He kissed me sweetly as I sat in their laps.

“You look like you’ve been crying.” Viktor bluntly stated. I looked away, refusing to meet Ivan’s eyes.

“There’s a slight chance…” Their arms tightened around me, Viktor nuzzling into the crook of my neck. His prickly stubble tickled my skin. Ivan’s hand embraced my cheek once again, his caution and care evident in each move he made.

“My sweet little lyubov.. Were you scared?” Ivan’s question caught me off guard, I guess someone like him hasn’t felt truly afraid in a long time.

“Yeah… I’m not the toughest person ever, far from it.. I thought I was going to die. I tried fighting back, I really did. Fuck I’m so weak guys…” I choked, my sadness creeping up on me once again. Wow, so much for stifling my emotions.

“That’s why I love my little Aaron though! Cherubs are delicate, innocent things, yet they sing the sweetest song. Don’t worry about being tough, leave that to us da?”

“I think I’m gonna puke from all this cheesy shit.” Viktor groaned. I laughed at his cynicism, smooching Ivan’s hand as it cradled my face. The stark contrast between them was eternally entertaining.

“You’re such a charmer Viktor. But, Ivan do you really mean that?” He nodded.

“Of course lyubov, but there’s no more reason for you to be afraid da?” Viktor chuckled.

“Very true, and just to be sure; I will be keeping a very close eye on you da?” My heart sunk.

“But I don’t want to trouble y’all like that! I’m a lot to babysit, I’m just gonna take up unnecessary time.. I’ll be fine really! It probably won’t happen again, and I can.. Just run faster if it does.”

“Trouble us?” The both simultaneously asked.

“I watch you frequently, you know, it never hurts to peek more da? It’s far from a waste of time, if anything it’s a wise time investment. You don’t get a say in this.” Strange how marriage makes you normalize your yandere husband’s stalking.

“You’re far from being difficult or a waste of time! I love my little Aaron, and I’ll do anything to protect you da? Nobody will ever hurt you again..” I smiled warmly, pulling Ivan closer and leaning back on Viktor. The warmth of being between them subsided the pain that burdened me; both physical and emotional.

“I love you two… Don’t ever get hurt for my sake okay? Please, if you can avoid it at all costs do so. And I can protect you guys too! I’m not nearly as strong as y’all but god damnit I’ll defend my husbands at all costs.” Both of them chuckled against my skin. Ivan drug his fingers along my side, tracing light circles on my sore skin.

“Love you too slabak. And you may attempt to protect me, see how far I let you get.” I snickered at Viktor’s empty threat.

“Bet.”

“I love you too, and I’m happy to have my little bodyguard.”

#mental health ment #nightmare ment #f/o #vodka and apple juice #fictional other #fictosexual #fictoromantic #self ship #self shipper #self insert #self shipping #f/o fic

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samathos · 5 years

Note

Wollt ihr das Bett in Flammen sehen /Asche zu Asche / Heirate mich / Leichzeit / Zwitter / Mein Teil / Amour / Rosenrot / Ein Lied / Waidmanns Heil / Vergiss uns nicht/ Weit weg /

Wollt ihr das Bett in Flammen sehen - A Rammstein song you relate to? as edgy or cringy this may sound, Stirb nicht vor mir Asche zu Asche - Favourite Rammstein member As much as I love the other members, Rammstein would be only half as good with Till. You just can’t replace that voice and dominant presence of him

Heirate mich - Your thoughts on marriage Somewhat split. I do like the idea of committing yourself to a person, the marriage as a big romantic ritual but I hate the pressure that comes with it and the complications a marriage can build up should things not work out.

Leichzeit - Favourite era in history Difficult question. I find interest in nearly all eras. I’m gonna say the 1920s?

Zwitter - Your kink Oh boy. Pet/slave play, some daddy and rigger in there. Oh and orgasm control :)

Mein Teil - A random fact about yourself I’m a massive petrolhead

Armour - Are you a romantic? 50:50 either I’m the most romantic fluffball you’ve ever met or I’ll destroy any romantic mood with some stupid joke

Rosenrot - Current obsession Old mercedes wagons, W124 do be exact. And then drop them down on some big rims japanese VIP Style

Ein Lied - Someone you idolize and why Guy Martin. He’s such a lovely guy, a very fast driver and he has such a genius understanding and feel for driving that I’m really jealous of

Waidmanns Heil - Your favourite quote “Don’t worry, be happy.” What use is worrying and beeing sad when you can’t change the situation anyway? So just don’t give a fuck and live your life

Vergiss uns nicht - a song that changed you Centhron - Slutbutt. A friend showed me that and introduced me into industrial music and the style in general

Weit weg - Something you’re proud of I’d say my logical brain that doesn’t get to influenced by emotions (in theory at least)

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dvrksiider · 6 years

Note

multiples of 3 for the OC questions

Super detailed questions about your OCs || Not Accepting (thx nida :p)

@errantson

3. Did they have a good childhood? What are fond memories they have of it? What’s a bad memory?

Main Verse: Nyla had an average childhood. Not necessarily good or bad (I don’t know if neutral is the best word here). The few fond memories were her warrior training before her Force sensitivity kicked in at full throttle.

Light Side Au: Corryn feels she had a good childhood. Of course it was difficult for her because of her sensory overload and the intense training she began as a little kid. She fondly remembers spending time with her mother and father and how proud they were of her.

6. What were they like at school? Did they enjoy it? Did they finish? What level of higher education did they reach? What subjects did they enjoy? Which did they hate?

Main Verse: She kept to herself and was distant. During her short time at the praxeum, she made very little friends. She was a bright kid with a lot of potential but the sensory disorder combined with her Force connection made her learning environment toxic and agonizing. Nyla finished her training with Snoke; out of her 17 years of training, 14 years were dedicated to darkness. During this time Nyla learned the ins and outs of pain, what made people tick and how a person could be broken. She also discovered she had a knack for Sith Alchemy.

Light Side Au: Corryn was shy and distant at first before finally feeling comfortable enough around the other students. She grew to love the academy as well as Luke and most of her peers. Before her 18th birthday, she went to Coruscant to start her sentinel training where they were busy restoring the Jedi Archives. Corryn stopped her training for a year once she discovered the praxeum had been destroyed. After that, she went back to Coruscant for another two years to study under her second master. She studied the old Jedi texts in great detail and learned how to strengthen and maintain control of her connection to the Force.

9. Do animals like them? Do they get on well with animals?

Main Verse: Nyla is mean so therefore animals are like “uh no way.” She doesn’t particularly care for them either. There’s probably an unspoken agreement between her and creatures of the galaxy which involves both parties staying out of the other’s way.

Light Side Au: Corryn loves animals. Most animals seem to like her as well. She helped Mara Eclipse take care of a smuggled Porg and the little guy has now won just about everyone’s heart around base. (eron wants to eat him??!! but he’s a good boi!!)

12. What is their favourite food?

Main Verse: Traditional Mandalorian dishes. Whatever will give her the strength and nutrients needed to ensure her survival. Alcohol is nice too.

Light Side Au: Corry loves meat ( a la Sokka), but really give this girl anything. She has a crazy metabolism and is a bottomless pit.

15. Are they good at cooking? Do they enjoy it? What do others think of their cooking?

Main Verse: Nyla could survive on her own if need be, but because she’s aligned with the Order, she usually does not make her own meals unless away from her regiment or on some solo mission. In short she is adequate.

Light Side Au: Corryn can cook decently. She’s actually better at baking and likes to surprise her friends and fellow Resistance members with something sweet every now and then. Most people would say she can make a good enough meal.

18. What’s their favourite genre of: books, music, tv shows, films, video games and anything else

Main Verse: (gonna sound edgy but...) everything dark and macabre honestly. In a modern setting, Nyla would be all into horror and the supernatural.

Light Side Au: Corry enjoys action, adventure, mystery and comedy. She would be a fan of classic NES games and other pop culture phenomenon.

21. Do they have a temper? Are they patient? What are they like when they do lose their temper?

Main Verse: Yes and no. Nyla’s secret is that she’s always seething. Unlike another dark sider, she’s gotten very good at masking it and keeping it under control. Nyla understands that there is a time and place for such anger- too much freedom will turn her into a loose canon. So in her right mind she is very selective about when and how she displays her anger. When she is angered enough, nothing is off limits; no words, no actions. The juxtaposition between her level persona and her rage induced state is incredible. It makes her all the more terrifying.

Light Side Au: Corry can get a bit of a temper now and again. It’s nothing like that of her dark side self, but it can still be destructive in its own right. She’s been known to dig deep and say things that she knows will shut others up; ie something that might negatively resonate with someone. As she’s continuing to grow and learn, she’s always trying to develop more patience and finding healthier ways to express her anger.

24. What is their sleeping pattern like? Do they snore? What do they like to sleep on? A soft or hard mattress?

Main Verse: Nyla only sleeps when it is required. (kinda like Leo Di Vinci) She has her own unique circadian rhythm. Some periods of time she gets adequate sleep. Other times she’s awake for days. Nyla’s silent breathing can be heard if listened closely, she prefers some level of comfort so a mattress in between soft and hard.

Light Side Au: Depending on what’s going on in the Resistance determines Corry’s sleeping habits. She could be well rested some nights and then running on two-four hours other nights; nothing a good cup or twelve of caf can’t fix. She totally snores (nothing loud just noticeable. Mara can attest to it) and because of her sensory thing she likes soft things

27. What makes them sad? Do they cry regularly? Do they cry openly or hide it? What are they like they are sad?

Main Verse: The last time Nyla cried was when she was 10. So...I mean. As an adult, she doesn’t feel or experience sorrow the same way as she did in her youth. Things are just repressed before they can even be processed in real time.

Light Side Au: The thought of never reuniting with her parents makes her sad. The thought of losing the war against the First Order makes her sad. The possibility of her friends and comrades dying makes her sad. Corry just feels a lot, okay? And while she’s not overly emotional, she will cry if she’s worked up enough and at that point she doesn’t care if people are around. She gets quiet and distant when she’s sad.

30. Do they exercise? Regularly? Or only when forced? What do they act like pre-work out and post-work out?

Main Verse: Nyla exercises pretty regularly (when she’s not in the middle of a mission that is). She’s very focused pre-work out and likes to tune out most things. She focuses only on herself and improvement. After work out, she’s calmer than usual and almost in a bit of a daze.

Light Side Au: Corryn tries to exercise regularly, but sometimes other things come up that are more important. She tries to be happy and positive before working out so she doesn’t give up halfway due to effort. Post work out, she’s tired and needs a shower and a nap tbh.

33. What underwear do they wear? Boxers or briefs? Lacey? Comfy granny panties?

Main Verse: Nyla wears bikini style and sometimes hipsters.

Light Side Au: Corry wears hipsters and boyshorts most of the time. O my god corry you so gay

36. What are they good at? What hobbies do they like? Can they sing?

Main Verse: Well Nyla is good at murder. Not sure if that’s a hobby exactly...she is an exceptional duelist (her warrior training on Mandalore helped prepare her for this). She is also a very gifted psychometrist and performer of other dark Force powers; force storm, drain knowledge, memory walk, etc. I would pay to see Nyla sing.

Light Side Au: Corryn is good at absorbing a lot of information in a small period of time. She is skilled with her lightsaber as well as Light side Force powers; battle meditation, Force concealment, Force protection, etc. Corryn isn’t a bad singer, of course when she’s drunk it is truly a spectacle. When sober she can carry a tune.

39. Do they like letters? Or prefer emails/messaging?

Main Verse: Nyla prefers holo messages. Gets the point across much faster and usually more effective (her methods are beyond brutal).

Light Side Au: Corryn prefers letters because they are more personal. Growing up, she did her best to preserve her writing so she would never forget her mother tongue.

42. What are their goals? What would they sacrifice anything for? What is their secret ambition?

Main Verse: Nyla wants power and control and she’s willing sacrifice her humanity for it. Her secret ambition is to kill her dark side master and take his place. But beyond that, Nyla desires to extend her reach beyond the First Order and to become the most powerful and formidable entity in the galaxy.

Light Side Au: Corryn wants to become a self actualized Jedi Knight (grey jedi later). She would sacrifice herself for the Resistance and for her friends. It’s not a secret ambition, but Leia is currently helping her rise the military ranks so that she can become a well respected leader and teacher.

45. How do other people see them? Is it similar to how they see themselves?

Main Verse: People see Nyla as cruel, evil and diabolical. She can’t exactly dispute any of it and quite frankly she doesn’t care. She knows what she is and she revels in the darkness.

Light Side Au: Most people think Corryn is a sweet girl determined to do the right thing. Sometimes she has self doubt but then she is reminded of who she is by result of her actions and feedback from those she fights alongside.

48. Do they enjoy any parties? If so what kind? Do they organise the party or just turn up? How do they act? What if they didn’t want to go but were dragged along by a friend?

Main Verse: Nyla would rather not. She only attends gatherings because it is expected from someone of her position. It’s all political and even she must save face and play along with the hierarchy of the Order.

Light Side Au: Corryn enjoys smaller parties because too much going on overloads her senses. If it’s with people she likes and trusts then she’s bound to let loose and have a great time. If the party is huge then the poor kid becomes a wallflower.

#erranston #oc questions #omg so man quenchons #nida we are even now lolololo #oh man i'm putting these under a read more because it's a lot and i get wordy af #sorry guys #XD #errantson

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fae-fucker · 7 years

Text

Shatter Me: Chapter 7-9

Chapter 7

Juliette angsts about all the stuff she remembers from the time before the dystopia and about the fact that Adam isn’t speaking to her. I can’t remember why he’s pouting and don’t care enough to go back and look.

Juliette angsts some more about stuff we already knew about, like how her parents hated her and nobody knew why her touch was so bad.

She is a walking weapon in society, is what the teachers said. We’ve never seen anything like it, is what the doctors said. She should be removed from your home, is what the police officers said.

Why is everyone in this world such an asshole?

I mean, sure, I get that it’s scary that a person can cause such horrible ... uh, well I dunno what, exactly, but this just feels forced as fuck. I’m hoping Juliette is an unreliable narrator and that there were nice people in her life, because making it seem like everyone hated her is just so ... cliché.

It was obvious that this child, this BABY, had no control over her powers, and I don’t believe for one second that nobody took pity on her. Humans always want to pet things that can bite their heads off, and I can’t see how nobody would care for an actual human child who clearly had no control over what she was doing.

But whatever man. Gotta make it seem like Juliette is all alone in the world so let’s just make everyone else a total asshole!

Anyway, turns out that Juliette was dragged away from her parents at the age of 14 after accidentally killing someone. Wait, she’s 17 now, and she’s been locked up for 260-something days, which isn’t even a year. So where has she been between here and when she was taken away?

I guess we’ll find out!

Suddenly the door opens and some dudes come in with guns pointed at them,

I’m still frozen in place. I should move, I should lift my arms, I should spread my feet, I should remember to breathe. Someone is cutting off my neck.

See, there it is again. This reinforces the idea that Juliette doesn’t actually believe the bullshit she spouts (if she did, she’d be imagining she’s choking to death and acting as such), so if we assume her “””””””””poetic”””””””” thoughts are just thoughts and not actual beliefs, then her stupid narration isn’t a result of her isolation.

So it would be offensive to pretend her narration is supposedly the only product of 260+ days in solitary, but if it’s NOT EVEN THAT, then it’s even MORE offensive because she’s basically perfectly sane and has suffered no ill effects from this LITERAL TORTURE at all.

This book is a fucking mess.

Anyway, the dudes beat Juliette up for shits and giggles I guess, and she thinks they placed Adam there because she was supposed to be killed and he was going to get her cell.

Someone is laughing. “Well aren’t you a little shit?”

That someone is me, because this is the silliest thing to say and apparently it’s supposed to be insulting or intimidating?

I call my friends “little shits”.

“She’s not even crying,” someone adds. “The girls are usually begging for mercy by now.”

Oh man. Even this book manages to get some dumbass NOTLIKEOTHERGURLZ bullshit in, huh?

LOOK HOW STRONK AND STOIC JULIETTE IS!!! SHE’S NOT EVEN BEGGING FOR MERCY, SHE’S TOO DIGNIFIED AND NOT LIKE THOSE OTHER IDIOTS WHO WANT TO LIVE!!!

The dudes make them both leave the cell to take them somewhere.

I can’t distinguish words I can’t understand the sounds I’m hearing the blood is rushing through my head and my lips are 2 blocks of concrete I can’t crack open.

[...]

I hope they kill me soon.

Same.

Chapter 8

Juliette wakes up in a room. What a surprise, huh?

Some military dude tells her to get up and follow him.

He looks about 25 years old, blond hair cropped close to the crown, shirtsleeves rolled up to his shoulders, military tattoos snaking up his forearms just like Adam’s.

Oh.

God.

No.

Adam steps into the doorway beside the blond and gestures with his weapon toward a narrow hallway. “Move.”

Adam is pointing a gun at my chest.

DUN DUN DUUUUUUUUUN.

Adam is a soldier. Adam wants me to die.

Can’t blame him.

Death would be a welcome release from these earthly joys I’ve known.

I think at this point you’re so annoying that even Death doesn’t want to deal with you.

She’s taken to a room and ... Oh? What’s that I hear?

IS IT A HOT DANGEROUS BAD BOY HERE TO BE THE ACTUAL LOVE INTEREST?!

“Juliette Ferrars.” [...] “Weston, dim the lights and release her. I want to see her face.” The command is cool and strong like steel, dangerously calm, effortlessly powerful.

[...]

I’m immediately struck by his youth. He can’t be much older than me.

It’s obvious he’s in charge of something, though I have no idea what. His skin is flawless, unblemished, his jawline sharp and strong. His eyes are the palest shade of emerald I’ve ever seen.

He’s beautiful.

His crooked smile is calculated evil.

[...]

His suit is perfectly pressed, his blond hair expertly combed, his soldiers the ideal bodyguards.

I hate him.

[...]

His green eyes are almost translucent

His name is Warner. He acts like your typical snarky, evil, but secretly damaged love interest.

Warner Bros. asks Adam (whose last name is Kent, if you’re interested) what he thinks about the impression he’s made on Juliette.

Adam says nothing. He doesn’t look in my direction. His body is erect, 6 feet of gorgeous lean muscle, his profile strong and steady.

“I know I’ve been in solitary for 260+ days, but what girl wouldn’t cream herself in the presence of gorgeous lean muscle, especially when she thinks she’s about to get murdered? I mean it’s only natural.”

The same arms that held my body are now holsters for lethal weapons.

Buckets for eyes and holsters for arms. This guy isn’t a human, he’s a Dalí painting.

Juliette asks if they’re about to kill her, and Warner says that he has a proposition for her.

Is he gonna ask her to be his weapon or some shit.

Chapter 9

Warner Bros. tells Juliette that he’s been studying her for some time and wants her on his team so she can touch his enemies to death or at least intimidate them with the threat of her Bad Touch.

“What?” A broken whisper of surprise.

Me reading this dumbass book.

“I’d been considering it for a long time, but I wanted to make sure you weren’t actually psychotic. Isolation wasn’t exactly a good indicator, though you did fend for yourself quite well.”

[...]

“I sent Adam to stay with you as a final precaution. I wanted to make sure you weren’t volatile, that you were capable of basic human interaction and communication. I must say I’m quite pleased with the results.”

Yeah, see? Solitary for 260+ days, which is literal psychological torture, didn’t do much to affect Juliette’s mind at all! She’s just so strong!!!

I love how this book acknowledges that “isolation” (SOLITARY CONFINEMENT) isn’t a “good indicator”, but then wiggles out of having Juliette turn out to be actually mentally ill as a result of this anyway. WOULD WANNA HAVE ANY ICKY CRAZIES ON THE CAST NOW, WOULD WE? OH BUT LET’S HAVE HER WAX POETIC ABOUT HOW SHE’S A SHATTERED RAINDROP, THAT’S JUST PRETTY AND DEEP AND CLEAN, NOT LIKE ACTUAL MENTAL ILLNESS.

I hate this fucking book.

Someone is ripping my skin off.

I fucking wish.

Warner says that since Juliette got so attached to Adam, he’ll basically force Adam to be in charge of her at all times. Juliette angsts about how Adam didn’t actually care about her at all and wah wah, how sad, this boy she met a couple of weeks ago doesn’t actually give a damn about her!

I would excuse this as Juliette getting attached to the first person she meets in a long time, but we��ve already established that she’s not actually very affected by solitary confinement at all -- and her stupid comments about how hot he is don’t fucking help -- so this just feels forced.

Warner says that if she works for him, she’ll live in luxury like he does.

“But if you choose to disobey? Well . . . I think you look rather lovely with all your body parts intact, don’t you?”

I’m breathing so hard my frame is shaking. “You want me to torture people for you?”

His face breaks into a brilliant smile. “That would be wonderful.”

The world is bleeding.

No that’s just my eyes.

Holy shit, this book is so hilariously edgy and try-hard. We get it, Warner is sexy and morally grey and being evil is hot and Juliette is all sad about having to murder people, no need to clobber us over the head with this nonsense and meaningless, empty imagery.

Like, seriously. What is “the world is bleeding” supposed to convey here? What does this mean to Juliette? What emotion is she trying to describe, what are we supposed to take away from this sentence? What relevance does it even have to the previous information presented?

“Show her what she’s missing, would you?”

Adam answers a beat too late. “Sir?”

“That is an order, soldier.” Warner’s eyes are trained on me, his lips twitching with suppressed amusement. “I’d like to break this one. She’s a little too feisty for her own good.”

[...]

“You’re a monster.” My voice is too even, my body filled with a sudden rage. “Why don’t you just kill me?”

“That, my dear, would be a waste.” He steps forward and I realize his hands are carefully sheathed in white leather gloves. He tips my chin up with one finger. “Besides, it’d be a shame to lose such a pretty face.”

I try to snap my neck away from him but the same steel-toed boot slams into my spine and Warner catches my face in his grip. I suppress a scream. “Don’t struggle, love. You’ll only make things more difficult for yourself.”

Can’t wait for Warner’s bullshit redemption arc and for Juliette to either literally or figuratively suck his dick later.

It’s ok though! He [pick an excuse here from the options presented below]

1) feels bad about this

2) is brainwashed

3) has to do it for her own good

4) doesn’t have a choice

5) will be justified later

6) will be forgiven later

Well, whatever. The chapter ends with Juliette being left in Adam’s care.

I hate this dumb fucking book.

#eff reads: shatter me #book rants

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lady-divine-writes · 7 years

Text

Kurtbastian fic - “A Dalton Boy Heartbroken” (Rated NC17)

After Kurt gets Sebastian home, it's time to start helping him heal.

But that's a difficult thing to do when you're kind of a mess yourself. (6830 words)

Warning for mention of assault, bruises pertaining to non-consensual violence, and thoughts of self-harm. Also warning for mention of Blaine and some Blaine wank - particularly what happened between Kurt and Blaine back when they were dating. If you can stomach it, please read it, as it's pertinent to Kurt's backstory. Otherwise, just stop reading at the bolded words and pick up again at the bolded words, and remember for later installments - Blaine bad xD

Follows A Dalton Boy Intervention

Read on AO3.

Kurt has wanted to drive a Porsche ever since he was introduced to one working part time at his father’s auto shop. Flat 6, manual transmission, 300 horsepower, all-wheel drive, and in his all-time favorite car color.

Ink black.

Because of liability issues, sixteen-year-old and newly licensed Kurt Hummel wasn’t allowed to even back it out of the bay.

But he could sit in the driver’s seat while he polished the leather interior and daydream.

He did get another potential opportunity to drive one as an adult. The first time his club turned a profit, he took himself down to the closest Porsche dealership to celebrate its success. He was going to go for a test drive and finally get the feel of one. He’d wanted to give himself a goal to strive for, wanted to prove to himself that everything was going to be alright.

That he hadn’t just survived, but that he could thrive.

Kurt Hummel belonged in the driver’s seat of a Porsche. He knew that for a fact.

But he backed out at the last minute, old doubts cropping up to spoil his fun: What if his success was temporary? What if his club was only bringing in business because it was new and edgy? What if, when the thrill wore off, everything went belly up?

So he put his test drive on the back burner and let it simmer there, on hold until he knew for sure.

He didn’t want to risk falling in love with something he might not be able to keep.

Sebastian has a gorgeous car – a truly exceptional piece of machinery. And it’s not factory, either. It’s a special edition, which makes it a little more painful that it’s being driven around Ohio by a boy who can’t legally drink yet. But the more time Kurt spends with Sebastian, the less he sees that as a travesty, and the more he’s begun to equate that handsome car with its owner. They’re one in the same – sleek, classy, powerful … and out of Kurt’s league.

Kurt has been fiending to drive Sebastian’s car for months, and now he is. Sitting in the driver’s seat (which fits him like a glove), flying down the highway, with that phenomenal engine purring seductively in his ears, should feel like a dream come true.

But it doesn’t. Not when he gets to drive it like this.

When Kurt and Sebastian left the dorms, the jackals converged. Knowing that following them out into the parking lot would be asking for trouble from the assistant dean, the boys stopped at the main threshold. Others chose to look down from the windows like kings on high watching the commoners flee. Kurt ignored them. It was easy.

He’s had a fair amount of practice treating losers like they don’t exist.

But as Kurt started loading Sebastian’s stuff into his Navigator, with Elliott already behind the wheel, Sebastian turned to look at his Porsche sitting alone beneath its cover in the parking lot. That car, more than anything he owned, symbolizes him. It’s like an extension of him. He isn’t the only boy on campus who drives a Porsche, but his is still a part of his identity. Everyone knows that car.

Everyone knows its owner.

“M-master?” Sebastian said softly so as not to bring attention to the title.

“Yes, preppy?”

“Would it be alright if we took my car with us? If I leave it behind, I’m afraid …”

Kurt looked from his sub’s eyes up and around to those watching them, some with the gall to smirk. If these assholes could tie a living human being to a chair against his will with a pillowcase over his head and a gag stuffed in his mouth, then they were definitely capable of destroying Sebastian’s car.

And of finding some way of getting away with it.

It was just a car, an object, not equal to Sebastian’s health or his life, but that wasn’t the point. The goal of tonight’s little escapade was to tear Sebastian down. Kurt knew that. And he wasn’t about to give these assholes any more ammunition.

“Of course, preppy,” Kurt said with a vindictive smile. “I catch your drift. You have the keys?”

Sebastian felt his pockets, fear creeping into his eyes at the thought that he may have left them behind and would have to go back for them.

He could do it with Kurt by his side, but he really didn’t want to.

But, luckily, he ended up finding them. He pulled them out and held them up.

“Well, let’s get to it, preppy,” Kurt said, pointing the way. “I’m getting sick of the stench of bullshit that permeates this place.”

“W-would you drive, Master?” Sebastian asked suddenly. “I---I don’t think I can.”

Kurt stared at the keys in Sebastian’s hands, salivating like they were an expertly prepared prime rib. He was fully prepared to leap on that grenade; his whole body had been ready for this moment for a while. But those keys held out to him, jingling slightly as Sebastian trembled, clawed through him. Sebastian had once joked that Kurt could beat him within an inch of his life, but no one drove his baby. When it came down to it, it wasn’t Kurt who’d beaten Sebastian into submission, and that made Kurt’s blood boil. Not because he felt cheated, but because this boy he cared for, whom he had taken responsibility for, had been abused non-consensually, and Kurt hadn’t been able to stop it.

Kurt hadn’t been able, by his name or his claim, to protect him.

Kurt checks the rear view for Elliott following behind them in his Navigator, then looks at Sebastian, sitting in the seat beside him, arms wrapped around himself, eyes closed. Kurt isn’t sure whether or not Sebastian is actually asleep. He wouldn’t be surprised if Sebastian did fall asleep after the night he had, but he seems too at peace. He’s probably just sorting things out in his head, Kurt thinks. Or maybe he’s taking advantage of the dark in the car and the lull of the engine to think of nothing, feel nothing. Either way, Kurt decides not to bother him. There’ll be time for talking later on.

Sebastian has earned the right to disappear for a while.

It’s not a long drive from Dalton to Kurt’s house; it only seems to take longer. Along the way, Kurt occupies his mind putting together lists – things he needs to buy since he’ll be feeding the two of them (even though he’s already taken to stocking his cabinets double since Sebastian is over at his house all the good God dammed time), phone calls he has to make, appointments he’ll need to re-arrange, events he’ll need to postpone.

And he should ask Elliott to slide him a little extra green bud. He has a feeling he and Sebastian are going to burn through what’s left of his stash before the weekend’s out.

Kurt pulls Sebastian’s Porsche into his driveway while Elliott parks the SUV behind it, shielding the car from view and trapping it in. Kurt doesn’t know if Sebastian’s friends have any other plans, or if they know where he lives, but he’s not putting anything past the little fuckers. With the amount of money and resources among them, who knows what they think they can accomplish.

Better safe than sorry.

“Alright, preppy.” Kurt cuts the engine, but Sebastian doesn’t turn around, which leaves Kurt talking to his back. “We’re here.”

Sebastian nods. “Yes, Master. Thank you, Master.” His voice sounds lifeless, monotone, but beneath the lack of emotion, it shakes ever so slightly.

Kurt puts a hand on Sebastian’s shoulder and squeezes. “It’s gonna be alright, preppy. I promise. I’m gonna get you through this.”

“I know, Master,” Sebastian says, trying to sound chipper. “I trust you.”

Kurt doesn’t know what to say to that. Hopefully, he’ll find a way to be more brilliant once he gets Sebastian inside. He still blames himself, still thinks that if he was better at his fucking job, this would have never happened. But how? How was he supposed to know? How could he have anticipated this?

He couldn’t have. Kurt got his intel second-hand, and nothing Sebastian has ever said about those assholes led Kurt to believe that they were capable of something like this. But teachers? Coaches? Adult-type authority figures who see these kids day in and day out? They should have been savvy. By all accounts, Kurt didn’t drop the ball. Dalton Academy did.

Which makes Sebastian another poor soul that Dalton promised to protect, and then failed to deliver.

“Take your time, preppy,” Kurt says, opening the car door. “I’m just gonna go send Elliott on his way.”

“Yes, Master.”

Kurt climbs out of the car. Elliott, striding over, tosses Kurt the keys to his Navigator.

“Thanks for this, Ells.” Kurt catches his keys and goes in for a hug. “I owe you one.”

“It’s cool.” Elliott hugs Kurt hard while he has the chance. He gets the feeling he’s not going to see him again for a few days. “It’s not like I had much going on tonight anyway.”

“Really? I cut short your first scene in weeks, and you’re giving me that dismissive shit?”

Elliott shrugs one shoulder. “This was more important.”

Kurt raises an eyebrow, but doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t want to screw up this moment by saying something too sentimental or teasing. All he’s wanted since that stupid Christmas party was for Elliott and Sebastian to get along. Kurt knows Sebastian is willing. Sebastian will do whatever it takes to please Kurt. It’s Elliott who’s been acting like a mule.

Maybe this is the start of Kurt watching that tide turn. Elliott did tell Sebastian that what happened to him tonight officially makes him one of them.

Does Elliott actually believe that?

Elliott glances over at the car with Kurt’s sub sitting inside. They watch him silently, waiting for him to move. When he doesn’t, the weight of what happened that evening settles heavily between them, bringing with it stomach-turning memories of past bullying, past violence.

“Take care of your boy, Kurt,” Elliott says, a thickness in his voice that Kurt has only heard a handful of times before. It’s as much empathy as it is sympathy. “Give him a few swats on the ass for me.”

“Will do.” Kurt watches Elliott stroll over to his motorcycle parked against the garage door, concealed by the shadows the roof throws beneath the light of the moon. He climbs on, puts on his helmet, throws the kickstand up, and backs down the driveway. He fires the engine, shifts it into gear, pulls a slow turn toward the street, and drives away. Kurt watches him go, as perplexed as he is relieved by his friend’s behavior tonight. He could chalk it up to the fact that Elliott loves him, and despite his and Sebastian’s differences, Elliott made a promise to always be there for Kurt.

But there’s something else. Not an acquiescence because that’s not in Elliott’s nature.

Kurt can’t put his finger on it, but whatever it is, he isn’t looking any gift horses in the mouth.

Kurt walks back to Sebastian’s Porsche and opens the passenger door. Sebastian hasn’t moved, but his eyes are open, staring at the ground beneath Kurt’s shoes. Kurt waits for any sign of acknowledgment, but not once does he look up at Kurt’s face.

That could be conditioning, Kurt reasons. Or it could be Sebastian attempting to find subspace and escape to it.

Kurt can understand that. He can help him with that.

“Come on, baby. Let’s get you inside.” Kurt gives Sebastian a hand, but Sebastian doesn’t rush to get out of the car. He seems content to sit where he is for the rest of the night. But he takes his Master’s hand and holds it as if it’s a buoy on the water in the midst of a terrible storm.

As if he’s going to drown without Kurt’s hand holding his.

Kurt is torn between the next thing he needs to do and letting go of Sebastian’s hand, but he has to. Because caring for a broken heart is as much in the details as it is the big displays. Kurt wants Sebastian to know that he hears him - he knows the things that are important to him, and nothing he cares about is inconsequential or silly. So he stands his sub off to the side and, without Sebastian asking, puts the cover on his car. He tucks every last gleaming inch of Sebastian’s Porsche beneath its protective shield and thinks, God, I love this car.

He may actually mean something more complicated than that, but it’s what he’s willing to admit to right now.

He leaves Sebastian’s things in his Navigator and leads his boy to the house. He unlocks the door and steps inside with Sebastian following solemnly at his heels. Sebastian obediently takes of his shoes, preparing to go to Kurt’s room and kneel in his spot, but Kurt stops him before he goes.

“Take a seat at the kitchen table,” he says, locking the front door. “There are a few things we have to do before you turn in.”

“Yes, Master,” Sebastian says, the disappointment in his voice bred from not being allowed to serve. Kurt knows that Sebastian serving him the way they have designed would probably take his mind off of things, but Sebastian can’t hide from this. He can’t run away from it. He has to face it head on and put it behind him, or else it’ll just be waiting for him later on when he thinks he’s in the clear. The one thing that Kurt has always strived to be with Sebastian is honest, and Kurt knows for a fact that tackling problems and putting them to rest always ends better than burying your head in the sand, even if it’s for the sake of your sanity.

Kurt watches his sub walk, the way he moves when he sits at the table. He’s sluggish, his cocky swagger gone, as if the essence of who he was before has been sucked out of him. If Kurt had seen this boy in his club from behind, he wouldn’t know him from Adam.

He needs to fix this.

“Here.” Kurt puts a pad of writing paper on the table in front of him. “I know you probably don’t want to think about it, but I need you to write down everything that happened to you, every detail you remember. Don’t leave anything out, no matter how small. I’d let you do it later, but it’s best to do it while it’s fresh in your mind.”

“I understand, Master.”

“Then, we’ll take some photographs, and I’ll … I’ll put you to bed. I promise. No session for tonight. You need your sleep.”

“Yes, Master.” Sebastian doesn’t even try to smile. He takes the pen that Kurt left for him and starts writing while Kurt puts a kettle on the stove. As Kurt gets tea cups and saucers from the cabinet, he glances over at Sebastian writing furiously on the pad of paper. Kurt thought he’d need a grace period, a few seconds to get his thoughts together, but he hits the top sheet of paper with the point of the pen and doesn’t stop. Once or twice the pen trips over a word, but he crosses out and continues on. The pen trembles in his hand, but he doesn’t stop. He’s still writing when the whistle on the kettle blows. Kurt pours hot water into two cups, adding a drop of honey and a touch of milk to one, the way he knows Sebastian likes his best.

“Here.” Kurt puts the cup of tea down in front of his sub, assuming he’ll stop to take a sip, but he doesn’t. It’s as if he can’t. Now that the flood gates are open, he has to get it all out, put it down on paper so he doesn’t forget a minute of how it felt. Kurt sips his tea quietly, watching Sebastian flip the page and keep going. Sebastian’s tea cools, but he keeps writing. He wants to condemn those boys with these words – Thad and Jamie and all the rest. Especially Hunter. Fucking Hunter! He almost ruined everything!

Except no, he hadn’t. Because Hunter never had the power, just like Sebastian had said. Hunter can’t touch him. Not really. He can’t derail Sebastian’s life.

The worst thing that happened in that room - even worse than Sebastian being tied up, unable to breathe - was that Sebastian didn’t give Kurt enough credit.

He didn’t give what they have together the credit it deserves.

He gets to the part in his statement when Kurt showed up to save the day and that’s when his pen slows. He pauses to take a sip of his tea, his hand shaking the cup so much that it spills, but Kurt’s hand is there, steadying it so Sebastian can bring his lips to it and drink. It’s neither hot nor cold. It’s just right, the way everything feels now that he’s with Kurt. Sebastian empties half the cup, the liquid soothing his turbulent stomach, unwinding the cramps that had begun to twist as he recounted his time in that chair.

When he starts to yawn, Kurt helps him finish, then guides the cup down to its saucer.

“It looks like you might be crashing,” Kurt says, wrapping his fingers around Sebastian’s hand and holding it, lending him his strength.

“I think … I might be … Master,” Sebastian says through a barrage of stifled yawns.

“Let’s take those pictures before you fall asleep in your seat,” Kurt suggests. “Here.” He moves his sub away from the table, setting him up in a chair underneath the brightest light in the room. “Remove your shirt. We’re going to take a couple now, and a couple more in the morning when your bruises get a little bit darker.”

“I understand, Master,” is all Sebastian says, and Kurt sighs. He wishes Sebastian would just fucking unload, even if that means ugly crying, screaming and cursing.

Give him time. He just needs a little more time.

Kurt takes out his iPhone as Sebastian removes his shirt. Kurt had seen some of Sebastian’s bruises when he’d helped his sub change. They weren’t too bad then – the angry red outlines of rope marks and clustered, purpling masses that could be finger prints. But given time to develop, they’ve become grisly. The ropes bit into Sebastian’s skin harder than he’d let on, or maybe his time with Kurt has desensitized him. Either way, indents mar his arms and legs, clearly enough so that anyone can tell what made them. Above those are definite finger marks. They vary in thickness, different hands having grabbed hold of Sebastian to keep him still. Kurt can tell that a few twisted as they held, indicating that Sebastian fought hard and they had to work to restrain him.

Well, good for fucking Sebastian!

But the one that pisses Kurt off the most is a solid round mark between Sebastian’s pecs where someone held him with both hands compressing his chest. Kurt is careful when he bruises his sub, each mark he makes placed for maximum impact with minimal permanent injury. And every one means something. It carries a message, either to Sebastian or somebody else. He’s never left marks like these on Sebastian’s body – senseless, meaningless, violent trash littering his sub’s gorgeous skin.

Kurt said it once, and he’ll say it again - someone’s going to pay for this.

Kurt focuses his iPhone camera on the bruise on Sebastian’s chest and snaps off a few pics. The way these look, he’s surprised that Sebastian doesn’t have any broken ribs or internal bleeding.

“You know,” Kurt says to break the silence that’s starting to drown him, “I’ve done so many of these that, after a while, it becomes old hat.”

“When was the first time, Master?” Sebastian asks to take his mind off what Kurt’s doing and why. He has a hunch it might have been Elliott, considering how close the two of them are, how protective of one another. But aside from confirming his suspicions, he’s just plain curious. There’s still so much about Kurt’s past that he doesn’t know.

“Well, to be honest, preppy …” Kurt takes a step forward and starts photographing the rope marks on Sebastian’s arms “… it was me. After I left Blaine.”

Sebastian, whose gaze had been trained on his hands this whole time, raises his eyes to look at Kurt, but Kurt shifts his gaze away. He comes closer, puts a hand to Sebastian’s chin, and takes a picture of the fabric burns around his mouth.

“I joined the scene for Blaine,” Kurt admits, tilting Sebastian’s head back further to take a picture of his neck. “I didn’t need it. I would have been more than happy without it, I’ll tell you what.” It’s such a determined statement, Sebastian knows Kurt had to have thought about it more than once, what his life would have been like if he’d avoided the scene. “Some guy at Dalton who had the hots for Blaine while we were dating introduced him to it, apparently behind my back via text messages and emails. He gave Blaine tips, and told him about places that catered to the BDSM scene in New York.” Kurt’s eyes meet Sebastian’s momentarily as Kurt moves Sebastian’s head the opposite way. Sebastian sees the regret in them, the sorrow. “He was grooming Blaine, you see, for the two of them to be together once we moved, but Blaine didn’t pick up on that. He could be a bit dense when it came to guys flirting with him. Blaine was so damned excited about it, and that excitement had been building within him without my knowledge. When he finally brought it up to me, and introduced me to his friend, I agreed to give it a shot because I was sure that if I didn’t, I was going to lose him.” He laughs. It’s dry, bitter, and steeped with hate. But hatred for Blaine? Hatred for Blaine’s friend? Hatred for himself? Probably all three. “What did I know? The only stuff I knew about BDSM came from cheesy, second-rate pornos. Pornos I didn’t even want to watch! I thought D/s was about handcuffs, spanking, whips, and gaudy, leather outfits. People calling other people Sir and Master …” Kurt shakes his head. “I didn’t take it seriously. It was a joke to me, the way it was for you.” He stops his picture taking to run his fingers through Sebastian’s hair, finding comfort for himself in the silky strands and the fluttering of Sebastian’s eyelids in response. “I didn’t know it could consume you,” he whispers. “I didn’t know how badly it could fuck with your head. I got all of my information from Blaine because I was too scared to look it up for myself. I didn’t want that shit on my Google search history.” He chuckles, returning to the photographs. “I wasn’t all that comfortable with sex, not the way Blaine was. And I was stupidly naïve. I trusted him too much. I mean, he loved me, right? Plus, he was a natural leader. He was charismatic. People gravitated toward him. I thought that those leadership skills would translate over. But that isn’t enough in our world. It’s not about acting the part. It’s about being it. Blaine isn’t a Dom. All Blaine is is an actor.” Kurt puts down his phone. He looks tired all of a sudden. Done. “Take off your pants, preppy. We need to get the rest of them.”

Sebastian doesn’t register the command right away, and when he does, he can’t move. He’s numb from the story that Kurt has told him so far, and since they have yet to get to the part when Kurt leaves Blaine and photographs the bruises on his body, Sebastian can only assume it gets worse. Admittedly, Sebastian entered the BDSM scene because of Kurt, but he did it of his own free will. Kurt never forced him, tricked him, or manipulated him. On the contrary. He gave Sebastian every opportunity to back out if he wanted. And Kurt bending over backwards to hold on to Blaine? Sebastian has seen pictures of both men during their time at Dalton; found them in old yearbooks in the Dalton Academy library. Even though Kurt has done a complete one-eighty as he’s gotten older, Sebastian can no more imagine him as insecure and vulnerable, scared of losing the man he loves and agreeing to this life, any more than he could picture himself traveling to Mars on a purple unicorn.

But here they are.

And if not for that, if not for Blaine, Sebastian would have never met Kurt.

Sebastian doesn’t know if he should be pissed about that or grateful.

“We talked about it, but not enough. Not as much as we should have,” Kurt continues, helping Sebastian with the fly to his jeans when he doesn’t undo them. “We decided to start as switches, but it always seemed like me on my knees for him more than he ever was for me.” Kurt tugs down Sebastian’s waistband, and Sebastian lifts up to help him. “We kept it to ourselves, in the bedroom. I thought we were together on that. But he had other plans.” Kurt pulls Sebastian’s jeans to his ankles. He spots a particularly nasty bruise, and stops to take a picture. “Not only did Blaine want to be more public with that part of our relationship, he didn’t want to necessarily stay exclusive.” Kurt runs a gentle finger over the raised, purple mark, then leans forward and kisses it. The touch of Kurt’s lips to Sebastian’s leg startles him, but it’s an anesthetic for what Kurt says next. “He started sharing me without my permission, humiliating me in ways we’d never discussed. He ignored my safewords, trying to make himself look tough, powerful. The kind of Dominant he thought other Dominants would respect, especially since we were in New York.”

Kurt moves to the other leg, not looking into Sebastian’s devastated face. “One night, I found myself doped up, in the middle of an orgy, and I had no idea how I got there.” Kurt pauses when he hears Sebastian catch his breath, taking longer than necessary fussing over his next pic. “One of Elliott’s partners at the time found me. He was a pay-for-play Dom and a gay-for-pay submissive, but he was cool. That’s how I met Elliott, which is funny considering we’d been going to the same college the whole time and had never once run into each other. Ells and his friend took care of me. I moved in with them that night, pretty much left everything I owned behind at mine and Blaine’s apartment. Never did get a lot of it back. They tried to get me to press charges, file a restraining order, but law enforcement doesn’t traditionally look too kindly on people of our deviation.” Kurt rests his head on Sebastian’s knee and looks off into nothing, watching the events scroll by in his mind. “And I was right. When I finally got up the nerve to go down there, the police twisted my words around. They said I wanted it, that I had consented because I was there in the first place, that I knew what I was getting into because I had ordered drinks, because I had taken off my own clothes ...” Sebastian feels what he swears is a tear roll down his skin as Kurt returns mentally from wherever. He pockets his phone and dabs at his eyes so slyly, Sebastian barely notices. “After that, I did a little online research about the legal system and how it pertained to me. It wasn’t all that helpful, to be honest, but I got the gist. I had Elliott take pictures of what was left of my bruises from that night, and I kept them, just in case.” Kurt pulls Sebastian’s jeans the rest of the way off his legs so his sub can walk. “I dropped out of school and I quit my job because those were two places I knew Blaine could find me, but I couldn’t avoid him forever. I needed to put some distance between me and him, and Ells said he needed a change of pace, so the two of us packed up, moved back to Ohio, and opened our club. I didn’t know what I wanted at the time, but I knew I needed to take back control of my life, so I became a professional Dominant. We made our club into the dungeon of our dreams, and found people from all over who weren’t just good people, but responsible Dominants and submissives - supportive, mentoring, knowledgeable, all of the things that I could have used back in New York with Blaine. I was determined that I wasn’t going to let another person end up like me. The more people I met in the scene, the more I came across people like me – people who had gone in wide-eyed and ignorant, usually for someone they loved, and ended up on the bad end of an ego trip. Without knowing it, we started catering to not only the kinky subset of Ohio, but to a large group of abused submissives. We became sort of a safe-house. The people who come to our club have been coming there for years. It’s like a second home … to all of us.”

Kurt helps Sebastian to his feet, but when Kurt tries to get him to walk, he’s unable to take that first step. Kurt turns to look at him, gets a good look at his face.

Sebastian looks positively heartbroken - his eyes red, his cheeks wet with tears, his chin quivering but his jaw locked, as if he’s been holding back the inevitable.

“Oh, Sebastian. I take it my story didn’t make you feel better.”

Sebastian snuffles in unattractively, but he’s stopped caring how he looks. He’s naked, physically and emotionally. He’s never felt so naked in front of anyone, especially not in front of Kurt, with these new, foreign bruises on display. He hates them. He hates that he has them. Kurt’s bruises are a work of art to Sebastian. A badge of honor. When he has them, they fill him with a feeling of strength and belonging. These bruises he has now are disgusting. They make him feel like an outcast. But mostly, they’re embarrassing.

They make him feel violated and weak.

They make him feel worthless.

“W-was it supposed to, Master?”

“Yes. But maybe not the way you think.”

“Then h-how?”

Kurt’s arms circle Sebastian’s waist. He rests his head on Sebastian’s chest, on that circular black-and-blue that he loathes so much. And there Kurt is - there Sebastian’s Dom is - covering those marks with his body, filling in the cracks and crevices, and making Sebastian feel complete again.

“It’s supposed to make you feel a little less alone. There’s a lot of us out there, baby. A lot of people who were dicked over by someone they trusted. If you ever think you have no one in the world you can turn to, just remember, Pavarotti’s Prison is your home now, too.”

And that’s one more hole filled. A huge one. When Sebastian left Dalton with Kurt and Elliott, he’d felt cheated, the way Kurt said he had back when he was in high school. That place Sebastian felt was his second home was a lie, and losing it threatened to destroy him. But he’d already had another home, even if he didn’t realize it. It was Kurt’s club.

It was Kurt.

That’s when Sebastian finally lets go and the tears begin to fall.

Kurt leads Sebastian down the hallway towards his bedroom, bringing the pad of paper and pen with them in case Sebastian remembers something later on that he wants to add. He drops both on his bedside table and, with his heart in his throat, starts the task of freeing Sebastian from tonight.

It’s not that Sebastian hasn’t spent days on end at Kurt’s place before, but for the first time, Kurt is taking care of not just his needs as a submissive. His deeply emotional ones, too. This is something that should annoy the shit out of Kurt. He’s not a big fan of people relying on him for emotional stability.

So why does this excite him so much?

Kurt starts with a shower, turning the water to hot, then stripping down in front of Sebastian with his sub’s eyes on him. Kurt demanded it, to root Sebastian in the here and now so that, should he find his way to subspace, he’ll remember he’s with Kurt and that he’s safe, that the person touching his body and commanding his mind is Kurt, and not those sick motherfuckers from his school.

And while they shower, Kurt gives Sebastian permission to kiss, permission to touch, permission to cry, which he does out of anger and frustration. With other submissives, this would be the time for Kurt to exercise strict control, but that’s not what Sebastian needs. He’s still a teenager, and sometimes he needs that young, carefree, puppy-dog type of affection.

So Dom and sub put everything else on hold while Kurt lets Sebastian kiss him; lets Sebastian push him up against the wall and pin him there, hands roaming freely up and down his body; while he lets Sebastian mark him with hickeys on his neck and shoulders, one bite hard enough to draw blood, and Kurt, with his eyes rolled back in his head, cums. Kurt returns the favor by sinking to his knees and blowing him, letting Sebastian cum down his throat, fill him with his pain. And like that evening in December when Sebastian dropped, Kurt washes him with his own body wash, dries him off and slathers him with his signature lotions, marking him with his scent along with his kisses and his teeth.

More than anything, Kurt wants to cover those bruises with new ones, blot out the petty hate with his own brand of caring and ownership. And he knows Sebastian wants it, too. But he can’t. Not yet. Not until these have been completely documented, and that will happen in the morning.

Kurt will start early so that they can get to work obliterating them – possibly for the entire day.

Kurt puts Sebastian to bed unbound and tucks him in. They don’t speak. There’s nothing left to say. So they kiss instead, Sebastian wrapping his arms around Kurt’s body and taking while he can with Kurt lying back and enjoying it because, hey – Sebastian’s an awesome kisser. But there comes a point when those kisses become sloppy and soft, with Sebastian sinking more into the mattress than he does into Kurt until eventually his lips stop moving altogether and he begins to snore.

Kurt holds his sub while Sebastian drifts off to sleep, kissing his forehead and his damp hair. Kurt tries to sleep, too, wound around Sebastian, so comfortable with his sub in his arms, so warm sharing his body heat. But he can’t. He’s riled up, his instinct not to reach for unconsciousness, which is only a shut eye away, but to get out of bed, drive back to Dalton, and start wailing on whomever he can find. It would serve those bastards right to wake up in the morning, tied to their beds with their dicks wrapped in razor wire, the words, “Hands off my fucking property until the end of time! Signed KH” carved into their chests.

Legally, however, that could prove problematic.

He does everything he can to put a kibosh on the vindictive thoughts popping up in his head and black out the way Sebastian has, but he can actually hear the gears whirring in his brain as he subconsciously contemplates a plan of revenge. He decides to try blocking it out with music, or maybe some ocean sounds – meditative shit that Elliott turned him on to shortly after his father’s last heart attack. Kurt peeks over at his bedside table, but the only thing he spots is Sebastian’s statement, resting haphazardly on top of everything, where Kurt left it.

Kurt stares at it, undecided as to what he wants to do about it. He wants to read it, but on the other hand, he doesn’t want to read it. He should read it so he knows how to proceed tomorrow when they drop by the police station. Kurt doesn’t know the whole story, and he doesn’t want to be caught off guard.

But he also wants to be able to sleep peacefully tonight.

Seeing as he can’t find his iPod, he left his phone in the bathroom in the pocket of his pants, and he doesn’t want to leave his bed (or Sebastian) to find a magazine to read, he reaches over and behind, slowly so as not to wake up his sub, and grabs the pad of paper.

The first few words leap immediately off the page and slap Kurt in the face, Sebastian’s handwriting surprisingly neat considering the condition he was in when he wrote this.

Kurt sighs. There’s going to be no easing into this one.

He tries to read it from top to bottom, step away from it, remove emotion from it and ingest the information like he would the news (though, to be honest, he stopped reading the news a while ago for similar reasons). But he can’t. After the first paragraph detailing how Hunter had baited him, giving the other boys time to jump him; how he felt trapped, couldn’t breathe; how he thought he had lost something important to him; Kurt has to put it down. He’s so fucking angry, and if he can’t go to Dalton and break a few kneecaps, he might explode.

He needs some sort of release, something to work out his aggression. He searches his room, goes over his options. He could smoke, mellow the fuck out, but he doesn’t want to disturb Sebastian. He could masturbate, but, that again, might wake his sub up, and besides, it would be a pity to go at it solo when there’s a gorgeous man lying beside him in bed.

Kurt peruses the contents of his bedside table, the removal of the pad of paper revealing the contents underneath – lotions, lubes, and cuffs, his lighter, a bong, his last bag of weed, an empty beer bottle, a razor blade ...

Kurt stops on the blade. It’s a fresh one, the sharp edge wrapped in cardboard. It’s been waiting there for Kurt’s next session with Sebastian, but he could turn it on himself, indulge in self-pity and slice up his legs, tear up his chest. It would help him relax, feel in control – a feeling he’d lost somewhere in between getting Jeff’s text and finding Sebastian tied up. Of course, that’s a feeling he could regain with his sub cuffed to his bed, a gag in his mouth, and a hook up his ass, but Kurt can’t wake Sebastian for that. The only option he has is to damage himself – either by doing this, or going down to the club, finding a willing slave, and whipping them for all they’re worth.

But he can’t do that either. He made a promise. Sebastian is his one and only for as long as they’re together. Kurt said so himself.

He can’t call on anyone else. Not even Elliott.

Kurt isn’t going to cheat.

God! Kurt rolls his head on his neck. Cheat! As if they’re an item! As if they’re a thing!

Kurt lets out a sigh in retaliation of himself. He’s so fucking pathetic. He has to stop fighting against it and man up, stop playing as if Sebastian doesn’t matter as much as he does. He has to come to terms with the fact that that’s what they are. And Kurt has himself to blame more than anyone. He’s the man in charge. He’s the one who let it get this far.

And worst of all, he has no regrets.

Sebastian begins to whimper, and all of Kurt’s thoughts go to him. He turns his back on the blade and wraps his arms around Sebastian again. The second he does, Sebastian stops, and Kurt knows he can’t let go of him – not tonight.

“It’s all right, preppy,” Kurt says into his hair. “It’s going to be all right, I promise … Sebastian.”

Pulling him close, Kurt closes his eyes, and falls asleep.

#kurtbastian #sebkurt #sekurt #frankie writes #Dom!Kurt #sub!Sebastian

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