"Yes." | “Kneel.” | Best of Three | Correspondence | Appraisal | Collapse
Six guys in a row, on their knees, blindfolded and gagged. Major seethes, shifting his weight on throbbing knees. How much goddamn longer does he have to wait for something to happen? He caught a glimpse of the other sorry fucks kneeling beside him, as he was forced down to sit on his heels. He tried to buck up, and only got pistol whipped for it, so. He’ll just fucking wait.
“Are you going to behave?” Says someone vaguely in front of him, off to the left. Talking down at one of the kneeling guys. Major cocks his head to listen as a gag is pulled out of someone’s mouth.
“Fuck you.”
A small, mechanical click. Then something like thunder cracks. Major jerks, trying to throw himself to the floor, heart lodged in his throat. There was a flash of light, he thinks, as a fist cinches in his hair and forces him back upright. A gunshot. It was a gunshot. He doesn’t hear any groaning or screaming, just… that’s a body slumping to the ground. Heavy, dull, lifeless.
A shoe scuffing on the floor, and that voice again. “Are you going to behave?”
A gag is pulled free, and a breathless, nervous voice answers. “Uh - yeah. Yeah, sure.” It’s right beside Major, this voice. He can all but feel the guy shivering beside him, inches away. He smells like sweat and stale clothes. Major chews on the cloth in his mouth, listening hard. A click, metal on metal.
Another deafening crack, and the flash of light is brighter this time. Major’s whole body tries to flee from the noise against his will. It’s only when he’s yanked back again, his scalp burning, that he registers the hot, sticky spray that hit his face a second ago. He doesn’t have to hear the body falling to know that there is now a dead body crumpled beside him.
Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Someone is pulling the gag out of his mouth. Normally he would be cursing up a storm, demanding answers, calling these creeps every twisted insult he could string together. But for once, Major holds still, and holds his tongue. Hot metal presses to his forehead, the point of pressure small and haunting.
“Are you going to behave?”
All thoughts leave his head. There is no decision to submit. He cannot see, isn’t allowed to move, and the gun to his head makes his response come out as instinctively as a breath. “Yes,” He answers, firm in the knowledge that it is the right answer, and hushed in mortal terror. He’ll behave, whatever that means. There’s no other choice.
The cooling metal disappears. Another footstep, off to his right now. The kneeling guy on that side is barely breathing, taking in tiny gasps that probably starve him of oxygen.
Major feels dizzy himself. He wasn’t planning on caving this fucking early. Planned to be a stubborn asshole, maybe get tortured for a few weeks, or make some daring escape and kill a few fuckers on his way out. But he can tell already, from the tension in the air. From how fast those guys’ mistakes got them wiped out. He’s gotta learn fast, here, or his last thought will be that he should’ve behaved better.
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I just wanna say bc I KNOW you're somewhere on tumblr, to the teenage girl who attended Take Your Kid To Work Day at an office building in Ontario, Canada circa 2013 and had a conversation with a middle aged woman in which you showed her your Black Veil Brides fanart and fanfics and ship content and told her about different fanfic tropes including a/b/o verse bc she happened to know who Panic! at The Disco and Fallout Boy were and thus you felt the need to show her your bandblr ship art, that was my fucking mother and I had to clarify all that to her including looking my mother in the eye and trying to explain a/b/o verse without sounding like a lunatic.
It's been 10 years and I still regularly sent evil energies in your direction. Since you'd be probably two years younger than me and thus legally an adult now, please know if this post reaches you it's on sight.
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There are many new friends on the archive, and many are young and have only known social media, which is why I wanted to say something!
Ao3 does not have an algorithm! It isn't a social media site, it's an archive.
Posting fics on Tumblr isn't the same as posting fics on Ao3
Ao3 is like a giant virtual bookshelf, and everyone is able to add their own stories to the bookshelf, all stored with different tags and different fandoms. Works are automatically sorted by newest to oldest, but filters, looking at bookmarks, and using the search function can change that.
Certain works are not pushed to the top like social media posts. More kudos and reads don't push a single work to more viewers by some algorithm. Unless otherwise filtered, works will be at the top of the page based on how recent it was posted.
Smaller fandoms get less views, less kudos, less bookmarks, and larger fandoms get more simply because of the number of people inside the fandom.
Ao3 is a giant virtual bookshelf- there is no algorithm, and there is no man behind the shelf pushing certain books forward.
Happy reading, and if you'd like to have more people notice a fic, why not share it with them! Send a dm to a fandom friend and it might turn into one of their favorite fics!
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“you look too pretty to be going out without me”
satoru’s eyes follow your every move as you sit on the chair in front of the vanity table, applying balm on your lips with the tip of your finger (getting ready to go out with the girls only).
he walks over to you from behind and leans in enough to rest his chin on your shoulder and take a closer look at your reflection in the mirror. “waaaay too pretty”, he corrects himself, his puffy lips forming some semblance of a childish pout.
“and that’s a bad thing because?”, you peek back at him in the mirror.
he knits his brows. “because other men exist”
“and?”
“they will look at you”
“and?”
“they will like what they see”, he drags out through a whine.
“it’s not like i care”, you shrug.
“but i do. they shouldn’t look, you’re mine.”
“you said it yourself—i’m yours, so what’s the problem?”
“the problem is—they don’t know that”
“and what can i do about that? walk around with a label hanging from my neck that says i belong to you?”
“maybe. or maybe—”, he pauses. reaches into the pocket of his jeans and pulls out a tiny box. “or maybe you should wear this”, he continues while turning your chair to the side to make enough room to kneel down in front of you.
“i think this will get the message through to those other men that look at you, and let them know you’re off limits. what do you think about that?”
others might think he’s too unserious to be proposing to you like this. but the truth is, he’s never been this serious about anything in his life before. because there, in that tiny box, is the ring he’s been carrying around for months. delaying the big question out of sheer dread that you might say no.
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