#i feel like i’m betraying my people bc i have barely written at all and this is like my return to writing fic | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

ct-7386 · 3 years

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Beans are Spilled

[So, I mentioned this in another post, but I copy-paste threads to a gdoc so that I can keep track of the story, write more coherent responses, and go back and reread at my leisure. Please go read that post, because I'm also using it as a general disclaimer for all the completed threads I'll post as oneshots. If you've reacted to that post, thank you ^^ I've had so much fun with everyone.

Anyway, here is the first thread - both chronologically and the first thread I was a part of.

Please keep in mind that this will have an odd flow to it bc it was written by two people, each writing as their own character. I've done my best to edit for basic mistakes, but otherwise everything is as we wrote it originally.

Authors: myself and @cc1010fox Characters: Commander Fox (them); CT-7386, Commander Stone, Corporal Cory (all me) Rating: T TW: mentions of suicide; depicted depression and anxiety; clones bullying each other; referenced reconditioning and decommissioning

If I forgot any warnings, please let me know ^^

Thank you!]

Commander Stone comms:

"Sir, I have a situation down in Lock Up. Two of our troopers got into a fight with each other, and they won't tell me anything. I know you're busy prepping for that upcoming gala, but..." His grimace is audible, and his volume drops slightly. "I have a feeling this won't be pretty. Can you spare any time for this osik, sir?"

Vod drama sounds like it might be just what he needs to break himself out of the monotony of his current work, so he decides it can't hurt. "I'm on my way." It takes a short while on foot, but he needs the exercise and to expend the energy he, like his vode, was created to have. When he arrives, he's let through without much hassle. After all, he's easily recognizable. "Where's the idiots?"

Stone takes off his bucket and runs a hand over his head. He gestures at two of the holding cells. "Here, sir. When they wouldn't break it up, I had them forcibly separated and thrown in the cells." He steps forward and raps on the dome of his helmet. "Attention, men!"

The clones in each cell snap-to, each with their bucket set to the side on the uncomfortable looking cots.

"Because of your ridiculous behavior, Commander Fox has deigned to address this problem himself." His eyes are narrowed, but there's a tightness around them that betrays his quiet worry. It's just not normal for there to be in-fighting among the older troops.

"With everything the Coruscant Guard has to deal with, you want to add each other to that list?" Fox barks, his tone every bit the reason his men stand at attention when he enters the room. "Who here is going to tell me what's going on first? Because you're both going to, or I'll have you working in such close quarters you won't have a choice but to learn to get along."

The clone in the cell to the right instantly bristles and tenses.

"Work with it?!" He gestures to the wall that separates them. "This shabuir, aruetii, vod-killer!?!"

The entire room stills.

It stills indeed. A vod betraying their own is nigh unheard of, especially in the Coruscant Guard. All they have is each other. Most won't even speak against a vod to save their own lives, even when wrongfully accused.

Fox eventually breaks the silence, looking to the accused, but not speaking to him. His gaze is suspicious, untrusting. Do they have a vod-killer among them? "Those are some heavy accusations, vod. Explain yourself."

The trooper in question stands stiff and almost unnaturally still, lips pressed into a thin line and eyes hyper-focused on Fox's lower face.

"... It was," he finally grits out, "information shared in confidence - a mistake, apparently, and no one's business but my own. Sir. Corporal Cory" - the other trooper, then - "holds a personal grudge against me, and today it interfered with my duties. Not only has he betrayed the trust I had in him, but he could have put the lives of every trooper present at risk."

Corporal Cory looks ready to throw himself at the energy barrier in the door to his cell to confront the yet-unnamed trooper. He is livid. "I betrayed your trust? What about the trust of your vode, huh? What about the ones you -"

At the last second he bites back his words - a surprising show of restraint, given the situation. And yet, every vod in the room feels chills at what the corporal has just implied.

The unnamed trooper swallows and closes his eyes briefly as if to gather himself. "I confronted Corporal Cory," he says quietly, "about his actions. Our argument got... heated. That's when Commander Stone was forced to intervene. Sir."

There's a tired sort of anguished resignation that hangs over the trooper. He's willing to accept whatever his punishment will be if it will keep him from having to relive the past all over again. He just hopes everyone will leave well enough alone.

"You're glossing over pertinent information, trooper," Fox tells him, his tone holding a warning. "Did you kill a vod? Do I need to worry about my men around you?" It's clear he's dodging the subject, but Fox's aim is better than most. He always keeps his eye on the target.

While he may view the vod as a danger currently, there's still no question he would protect him. Vod-killer or not, he's one of the Coruscant Guard, one of them. He just has to know what to do with him, like separate him from the others if necessary.

The look of anguish intensifies for a brief moment before the trooper replaces it with a blank mask. "The only danger I pose is to myself, sir. As for the pertinent information..."

He grinds his jaw, frantically searching for a way to answer the indirect order while maintaining some dignity.

"It was on Kamino," he says at last, voice painfully small; he seems to fold slightly in on himself, as if the weight of his words is almost too much. The trooper swallows. His voice is slightly ragged as he finishes, "It was a - a mercy kill."

There's a moment where the air echoes with the silence, and then he's straightening once again wearing that mask.

"With all due respect, sir, it was a long time ago and has no bearing on the current situation or my performance as a soldier of the Republic. Corporal Cory took the few facts he had and blew them out of proportion." The corporal does look a little guilty. "I will accept whatever punishment you deem necessary for my actions, sir, and for lying by omission, but I request that you not alter my duties in any way. I'm the only clone with my specific qualifications, sir, and my skills are needed in the Senate building almost constantly. On top of that, there are still a couple senators I need to contact to finish smoothing over the ruffled feathers the corporal caused with his... overreaction earlier."

A mercy kill. Questions need to be asked, specifically whether or not the deceased vod requested his "mercy". Otherwise, it was unforgivable, merciful or not. It would be merciful to kill them all, to put them all out of their misery, but it's their choice whether they live or die. Most would rather live so they wouldn't have to be replaced by another innocent vod. They survive and fight through the osik for each other.

Fox wants to ask the question where the others can hear the answer, hoping it will clear it all up, but--

"Senators?" His ire is turned on the other trooper. "You started a fight in front of senators? Do you have any idea what danger you put us all in? Fresher duty. A month's worth. If I hear one complaint, I'll extend it another month." Fox needs the senators to feel safe around them, not wonder when the unstable brutes will snap. The more on edge they are around them, the more likely they will be to have them reconditioned for the tiniest mishaps.

Somewhat surprisingly, the unnamed trooper hesitates slightly and shifts in place. "With - With all due respect, sir, Corporal Cory knows better than to start a fight in front of the senators. He just - I'm a translator, sir, and the corporal interfered with my work and nearly caused a diplomatic incident without really understanding what it was he was doing. I confronted him because he knows better than to interfere with my work yet did it anyway because of our petty rivalry. He didn't - He didn't mean to, not really."

“He knew what he was doing. He knew the senators were there.” It is, however, reassuring that he’s trying so hard to protect a vod. There is definitely more to his background than he’s made known.

The trooper straightens. “Understood, sir. And my punishment?”

He knows he played his own part in this debacle. There were ways he could have deescalated the situation sooner; he could have requested a transfer to another squad when Cory became a problem months ago; he could have not started a fight with Cory afterwards - hell, he could have not told Cory anything. That would have been a fantastic idea.

And now - Now he’ll feel obligated to go to Commander Fox, a man he has barely seen since being stationed with the Guard, and explain this all to him against his own better judgement. What a kriffing disaster.

"An explanation. Whether your past affects your work with the Guard is up to me, not you. Do you understand? We can discuss it in private." Besides, from what he can tell, Cory started the fight, not the other vod.

Fox gestures to his cell, a silent order to release him so they can go elsewhere. He obviously doesn't want to divulge what happened to the others.

Commander Stone follows the silent order and presses a button on his vambrace, and the barrier in the trooper's cell disappears.

The trooper himself snaps a slightly shaky salute. "Yes, sir!" He turns and tucks his bucket under his arm and steps out of his cell, very deliberately not looking at any of the other vode in the room. Then he walks to stand in front of Fox, waiting to be led to - what he sees as - his inevitable doom.

"To my office, trooper. March," Fox orders. In his office, they can't be monitored by curious members of the Guard. At least there's no one in the building brave enough to press their ear to his door.

The trooper quickly marches out of the room, all-too aware of the Commander behind him. He leads the way briskly down the halls all the way to Commander Fox's office where he waits at the door.

His own professional, yet more casual, stride beside him tells witnesses that the trooper is in trouble, a walk of shame. At his door, Fox relieves him of that humiliation, "At ease..." before he opens the door.

Once inside, Fox pries the helmet from his head and sets it on his desk. He then seats himself behind the desk and gestures to the chairs opposite his own. "Have a seat. What's your name, trooper? Do you have one yet?" Not every clone has a name. Sometimes, they're just too attached to their designations and, other times, they just haven't found the right one.

He takes a seat but hesitates to answer the question. "I..." The trooper swallows and looks down at the helmet in his lap. "I go by my designation, sir. CT-7386, or sometimes just 86. I gave up any right I had to a name back on Kamino. I don't -" His voice drops almost to a pained whisper, and he sort of starts to curl around his bucket. "I don't deserve one after what I did."

This vod is not a cold-blooded killer, nor does Fox believe he has it in him to kill a vod without being coerced into it by that vod. The guilt is clearly eating him up inside. The ori'vod, which is what he is to most of his vode, in Fox is making him want to comfort him. He resists the urge to hug him, but not to use his words. "What happened, 86? Look at you, vod. You need to tell someone..."

His eyes snap up to Fox, wide and terrified. "Sir, I - I can't. You would - You would never look at me the same, sir. I'm already isolated from the rest of the Guard, already defective, and now they know -"

86 shudders and curls even tighter around his bucket as if for comfort. It was an order, he reminds himself. This is my punishment, so I just gotta take it. He forces himself to open his mouth and begin speaking even though he refuses to straighten and look at the Commander. 86 doesn't want to see the disgust in Fox's eyes.

"We - We were an experimental batch, sir. The Kaminiise wanted to see what would happen if they tried enhancing our senses beyond perfect hearing and 20/20 vision. Only, because they'd never done it before, a lot went wrong, and they kept us mostly isolated from the others in order to keep studying us."

His breath hitches slightly, and he tightens his grip on his bucket.

"Not all of us survived. We were down to six by the time we learned only I would ever be deployed, the others kept in the labs. And we couldn't - We were afraid. We didn't want to live like that, didn't want to be test subjects, didn't want to live that waking nightmare anymore. So 7301, our second youngest, he came up with this - this crazy plan: stage an accident that would kill us. Only - Only we needed one to stay alive so that someone would remember we had ever existed. They chose -" His voice breaks, and his eyes burn. "They chose me, because I was the only one who could be reassigned and deployed. So I - I sabotaged the program on our training deck. I killed them - all of them."

As he listens, he tries to put himself in 86’s place. The pain he would have felt, not only from the experimentation, but from watching his vode suffer too.

As far as clones go, Fox has always been privileged, selected for the ARC training program, encouraged to embrace his individuality, and given power over his vode. It might be hard at times, but he’s never been experimented on extensively or used as cannon fodder.

Still, he knows what it’s like to suffer, to want to be free from his suffering, and what it’s like to love his brothers so much he’s willing to endure anything for them. If his vode came to him, in pain, desperate for release from this life, would he kill them?

…Yes.

He leans over his desk, that little bit closer to his vod. “You didn’t kill them…You set them free…”

86 laughs bitterly. “Freed them - and enslaved the next poor bastards the Kaminiise decided to continue the experiments on. I know there were others who ‘benefited’ from the results we produced. Freed them?”

Another laugh, though this one he chokes on. He finally looks up, revealing the tears rolling down his cheeks and the absolutely broken look in his eyes.

“That’s not what the ghosts in my head say.”

"Yeah, well, those ghosts aren't your vode. They are thankful." As much as he would love to lay a hand on his vod's shoulder to comfort him, he stays put and lets the sympathy show in his eyes alone.

"You're not responsible for what the Kaminiise do..."

86 shakes his head and scrubs the tears from his face. "I know that logically, but that will never change the fact that my batch was killed by their ori'vod." He sniffs a little and straightens. "Is there anything else you'd like to know, sir?"

"Like they wanted," he insists. It was almost cruel of them to ask 86 to do it, leaving him to live with the crushing guilt. He wasn't handling it well at all. "We don't have any licensed therapists in the Guard, but our medics are willing and able to act as one if you need them to. You also have me. You've really twisted it in your head to make yourself a bad guy when you're not." It's the pot calling the kettle black, and Fox can't see it.

His next huff is supposed to be bitter again, but it comes out just so tired. “With all due respect, sir, I’ve been with the Guard just as long as you have - you’re only a dozen or so batches older than I am, even. This begs a couple questions.”

86’s eyes harden just slightly, more in suspicion and vague distrust than actual anger.

“First, don’t think I haven’t seen just how hard you are on yourself, so, with respect, don’t ask me to do something you wouldn’t. I know exactly how responsible you feel for all of us, and even though I could never imagine the amount of work you’re doing, I know it’s way worse than any of my own problems.

“Second, I’ve managed this long just fine. It took a vod betraying my trust and then having to admit my recurring nightmares under duress for anyone to give a kriff. I don’t see what will change now that I’ve bared my soul.” Okay, that might have come out just a little upset.

“And finally, again with all due respect, but -” His walls once again crumble, eyes bright with tears he refuses to shed, voice hitching with the raw emotion held back purely by strength of will, “why has no one cared before?”

Before Commander Fox can answer, 86 is holding up a hand to stop him.

“No. No, I’m sorry. That -” He swallows, blinks away the shine in his eyes. “I know you’re busy. I didn’t mean to make you feel guilty. I know everyone else is busy too. And I work every day in the Senate Building with no one except the natborns; the only time I see vode is when I come back to HQ to sleep.” 86 laughs incredulously. “I don’t - I don’t even know who the medics are? I don’t” - He blinks, brow scrunched in mild confusion and distress. “I don’t think I’ve been to the medbay since our mandatory exams when we were first stationed here…”

Fox doesn't tolerate much blatant disrespect, but he knows what 86 is going through at the moment. When emotions take hold, they're uncontrollable, torturous, until they're finally unleashed like a violent storm. It always ends the same, always. The tears come, shining in his vod's eyes. Again, he's assaulted with the nearly irresistible urge to hold him through it. That isn't Fox, though. He can't risk that sort of bond only for it to be broken by their rank imbalance.

"With all due respect, vod...which is every ounce I've shown you, when was the last time you told anyone the whole story? You hide your pain so well, apparently better than I do," he chuckles, a tinge of bitterness to his laughter, "so how was anyone supposed to know you were suffering? Let your vode know. They will care. They will support you.

If you don't mind, I'd like to recommend our CMO, Paws...and my personal "therapist", Thorn." Yes, he does talk to someone, as much as he's comfortable doing so at least. It helps that they're married in the Mandalorian tradition. "They're both more understanding than you ever thought a vod could be. No matter what you tell them, they'll try to see it from your point of view."

86 blinks, eyes wide. “I-I’m sorry, sir,” he stammers, head ducking in shame. If Fox is talking to someone… maybe he should, too. “If you think this is what’s best, I’ll - I can try.”

He worries at his bottom lip with his teeth while he thinks.

"I think... I think I can try talking to Paws? I - I know I need to visit medbay soon, anyway. This one senator -" He stops himself. "Maybe a story better saved for Paws," he mumbles. Yeah. Yeah, he can see what Fox means about talking to someone.

He inhales deeply, closing his eyes and centering himself before releasing the air slowly and steadily.

"I've never told anyone the whole story. Corporal Cory was... He's in my squad. I had a nightmare and woke him up a couple months ago. When he asked me about it, I was... I was shaken." He's ashamed of it, really, but nothing can be changed now. “Without thinking I admitted it was about my batch and how I’d caused their deaths, but that was it. He - He blew everything out of proportion. So, yeah. No one really - really knows.”

Another measured in-out of breath.

“And you’re wrong, sir: I don’t hide my pain all that well.” 86’s smile is wry, his tone self-deprecating. “It seems I’m just really good at hiding myself.” He swallows. “I know I’m not around the vode a lot just by nature of my duties, but - I could have made more of an effort to reach out to them.” He can - He can maybe still try. Maybe. Just - later. When he can think about this all clearly.

Once again he squares his shoulders and straightens. “Is there anything else you’d like to ask, sir? Or have I fulfilled the parameters of my punishment adequately?”

“There’s one last thing I’d like you to try… A mediated conversation between you and Cory. I know he was cruel, but think about what he thinks you did. It’s unheard of. He’s shocked. If he just knew…” he tries. Cory is a vod, so he can’t be completely unreasonable, can he? Honestly, Fox wonders if anyone outside of 86’s guilt ridden mind could possibly interpret what he did as cold-blooded murder. 86 is clearly a victim in what happened too, he just didn’t have the merciful release of death after it all.

That in mind, he really admires this vod. It would be too easy to swallow his blaster, but he’s chosen to stick around and keep his position filled so another vod doesn’t have to suffer through it. After Fixit, Fox knows all of the vode who suffer with suicidal ideation have been struggling to find the strength. He knows because he’s one of them. With 86’s background, he must be so much stronger than all of them, most of which are just victims of Coruscant.

The moment 86 hears Cory's name, he tenses hard. After a long moment he grits out, "As long as you're the one to mediate, sir, I think I can do it. I still - I still wanna shoot him for that stunt he pulled in front of the senators earlier. He could have gotten all of us killed. Thankfully, the senators I was translating for were easily persuaded to ignore the incident," he grimaces.

"Here, there's a good chance he will be shot because someone hates clones so much they can't bear to see us live. You don't want to wonder if your hatred for him was petty when he's already gone, vod. Trust me." It's always the ones who were arguing with the victims that cry the most when they're gone. "I'll mediate."

86 looks away guiltily. “Yes, sir. Sorry, sir.” He hasn’t known hardly any of the vode lost to Coruscant, and it’s not exactly a lesson he wants to learn any time soon. He’ll talk to Cory. 86 looks back at the Commander. “If you’re too busy, sir, I’m sure someone else you trust can mediate. And -” He hesitates. “I think the rest of the squad should be there, too.”

“I’ll make the time. You bring whoever you’re ready to tell.” Besides, he already knows what happened, so he’ll be able to correct course if 86’s self-loathing gets in the way and he portrays himself as a heartless killer.

86 honestly feels a short rush of relief at knowing the Commander will be there. Having someone, anyone, standing next to him while he bares his soul to the most recent vode he feels he has wronged will help give him the strength he needs to get through this.

“I’m not sure I’ll ever be ready,” he hedges, “but I - They deserve to know the truth.” The truth of why I’ve basically abandoned them, too. “Just name the time and place, sir. We’ll be there.”

"Will three days be enough time for you to plan your wording?" He doesn't want to rush him, but he also wants to pull it off like an adhesive bandage. Three days just seems like a good in-between. Besides, the longer he waits, the more time he'll have to convince himself it's a bad idea. At least that's how Fox's brain works.

86 nods. “Yes, sir. Thank you.” He’ll need all the time that gives him to think of what to say.

#Wren:pt1 #cgrp oneshots #rp #oneshot #star wars #swtcw #coruscant guard #commander fox #commander stone #ct-7386 #corporal cory #roleplay #sw ocs #coruscant guard ocs

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masked-puppetmaster · 3 years

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hey, i saw you asked a while ago why dream & techno apologists are apologists for those characters (and you liked a bunch of my posts concerning that, actually) i was wondering if you still have any more questions - and also i wanted to ask if you wanted to talk a bit about c!tommy and what makes you like him so much? like is it just the emotional attachment to him? is it the trauma? anything specific about the way in which he is written? i've always watched his pov & i'm very curious! / - red

yo yo yo hey! I think I understand it a bit more now, for the dream & techo apologists, I think I’m still a bit confused when it comes to technoblade. I see a lot about people only using him as a weapon/ him not being able to trust people / no one sticking up for him and I’m not sure where it comes from? In all fairness, I only know him as the guy who executed Tubbo / spawned withers but im assuming that’s in large part because I came into the story so late (iirc I didn’t really get into the dsmp until around doomsday, and I got most information of past events just by like. osmosis or reading wikis) so I might simply just not have enough information on techno to get it. Like, he executed Tubbo under a lot of pressure iirc but that doesn’t take away from the fact he did execute him? or things with the withers, I know technoblade doesn’t like the government and I’d go as far as to say he has a point, but was it really necessary to destroy lmanburg (iirc, multiple times). I know he was mad, but I feel like he shouldn’t have taken in that far, like from what I see and understand it’s like yes he had his points but he hurt people and doesn’t seem to care that he hurt anybody, just kinda stands there assuming he’s right about everything and not rlly looking at the situation from anyone else’s perspective. That being said like I said I came into the story really late and so my arguments might be able to be chalked up to just a lack of proper context, and even if I’m kinda annoyed at Technoblade’s behavior I still like him as a character & when techno does stream I enjoy the content so I’m not like a technoblade hater or anything I just don’t see why people can be apologists for him bcos from my pov he’s just kind of hurt people and not taken any personal responsibility for it (I mean this as in acknowledging to himself he was ever in the wrong; ex. The whole Tommy / techno betrayal situation which I think was a p complicated matter to be fair he just keeps saying over and over how Tommy betrayed him and it doesn’t seem to me like he’s even bothering to look at the situation from Tommy’s pov or rlly reflect on his own actions at all)

I just rlly like Tommy! I think at least some part of it can be chalked up to Tommy being the first streamer I watched in the dsmp and one of the ones I watch the most from (half the time I’m watching the dsmp it’s a Tommy stream) so there’s just gonna be some inherent bias towards him there like there is with literally any of these streamers. As you put it, it is kinda the trauma, haha. trauma and emotional attachment lol. I think part of it is I relate to him a lot, and I can see where he’s coming from on a lot of things, and I also just like the way his character is written. Smthn abt him that people have pointed out is that his trauma isn’t pretty and romanticized it’s ugly and yk he acts out and all that, which I appreciate. I can see where he’s coming from on a lot of things or at least understand why he thinks the way he does. I like seeing him learn and grow I like seeing his arcs both personally with himself and with other people. He’s an interesting and complex character and he’s been through a lot and I think it’s just super interesting to see how what he’s gone though affects his mental state and his actions as a character, like just from like a mental analysis standpoint there’s a lot to talk about which I think is pretty cool. this isn’t to say that he’s never fucked up or done anything wrong, because he has, but to be fair so has everyone else on this server I don’t think there’s a single member of the server who’s done nothing wrong (except maybe like. Charlie. Charlie my beloved). He’s made his mistakes but every good character fucks up that’s what makes them a good character is their flaws and so with the ways that he’s messed up and the ways he’s hurt people I’m an apologist because I can see why he acts that way, where the feelings and actions are coming from and I can forgive him for it because I understand the why. Also I just think the punishments he’s received for his actions are rlly unfair, easy ex with exile he did something many people on the server have already done at one point or another and was exiled and mentally broken down over it and rlly it’s just been like one thing after another and even if he’s made mistakes he gets way more harshly punished than I think was fair. I’ve seen people talk about how annoying and selfish his character is and when I read the posts (not all of them, there’s a nice chunk of people who are civil about it) it just seems like they’re not rlly thinking abt his character and his experiences. I’ll see people explain his signs of trauma and say it’s annoying because it’s not soft crying trauma it’s messy acting out trauma which it’s just like you do not understand this at all, do you? Or with the discs, I’ll be honest with you here. I will defend Tommy’s attachment to these stupid little music discs till the day I die. Why can’t he have his discs? They’re his , they’re not even that valuable outside of the fact that they’re his, why can’t he have things? why isn’t he aloud to have items he’s attached to without someone taking them for the sole reason of he likes them. And all I see is people saying he is selfish and cares about the discs more than people, which is literally disproven in the rp. Ranboo flat out says he’s not selfish, when Tommy takes the blame for George’s house (also keeping in mind here tommy and ranboo barely knew each other at the time, and if Tommy was actually selfish he could’ve very easily dragged Ranboo down with him) and when it comes to the discs he’s given up the discs multiple times in favor of helping other people (he gave them up for lmanburg, and then for Tubbo I think twice actually) and the one time he told someone the discs were worth more than they were, that was the moment yeah made him realize he didn’t like who he was becoming and he immediately backtracked and allowed the disc to be handed over. TL;DR he’s not selfish he’s just got a lot of strong attachments and his attachments are both his greatest strength and his greatest weakness. And he’s a kid, he’s been though a lot of things, he’s got a lot of trauma he’s dealing

with and it’s not always pretty but he gets better, he has his arcs and he gets better and learns from some of his actions, and I think looking at him and his yk. Timeline and character development and arcs and his whole like mental deal and just general character choices are super interesting and I find it fun, as someone who enjoys character analysis, and all in all I love him I relate to him in some ways and some of it also might just be emotional attachment and bias towards him as Tommy being one of my comfort streamers

& it’s fully possible someone could have just as much of an argument for c!techno, my deal w looking at c!tommy making mistakes and c!techno making mistakes and being able to be an apologist for Tommy and not for techno is more about me understanding tommy’s character better and understand the reasoning and the why behind the things he says and does, vs. techno who i dont really get and i can’t be an apologist for him if I don’t understand anything hes doing or why he’s doing it and then seeing him over and over dismiss other peoples perspectives and never rlly reflecting on himself (not to say Tommy couldn’t use at least a little of that himself- I am Looking over at his relationship w Jack Manifold lol) can be kinda frustrating but as I said earlier that might just be me not knowing all the proper context

I could probably write more about Tommy especially when it comes to the whole technoblade vs Tommy thing but this post is already way longer than you probably ever wanted to read so I’ll stop now I’m sorry I’m just hyperfixated haha and yk if anyone wants to like add arguments or points or if you or someone rlly likes technoblade or dream or whoever and wants to talk to me about that go ahead I encourage that like I rlly enjoy having those conversations w ppl provided theyre civil abt it bc like we’ve all said a million times over before eveyone in the dsmp is an unreliable narrator and you’re just going to automatically have a bias towards a character if you watch their POV most and all that so. Yk I am a tommy apologist but I watch his streams most and I’m also just emotionally attached so anything I can say has to be taken w a grain of salt bcos I’m biased towards his character

#Long post #ask #anon #red #tommyinnit #c!tommy #technoblade #c!techno #c!technoblade #DSMP #dream smp #Tommy apologist #technoblade apologist #I’m so sorry I talked way more than I intended to whoops !!!!#That’s my two cents

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halcyon-writings · 3 years

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family

requested?: yes (anonymous) //tldr, if alucard had a sibling (the reader, of course) dealing with the loss of family, both living and not

note(s)/warning(s): canonical character death, spoilers babyyyyy, violence and injury, angst it’s rare for anyone in this series to have a good time huh?, also for this being that the reader can literally look however you want, imma say Lisa isn’t white bc I do what I want and it’s my fic :) this is also the most i’ve written in a good while omg, im highkey proud so pls don’t let this flop

Lisa Tepes is dead.

Your mother, is dead.

Killed, burned alive. Gone to ashes.

All because the church had believed she was a witch of sorts. Several thoughts dance in the back of your mind as you gaze upon the pyre. Smoldering from the heat, the flames gone. Your father leaving his message, no, his warning, that he would act in one year.

“A farce that was!” You hear a shout, and you force down the bitter laugh, throat tight and eyes burning. Especially so when you slowly begin to hear continued shouts of agreement, from voices previously silent.

Here your mother was, her final resting place. Burned to ashes for some sick show of power.

And you could do nothing as she was mocked for it.

Your fist clenched at your side, you feel your nails cutting into your skin, but you walk away to return home.

And to say that the castle was no less better was an understatement. Your father was most likely in his quarters.

And when you finally sit down, the weight of your weary finally settling against your soul, do you allow yourself cry. Quiet tears turning to sobs as you muffle your voice with a pillow.

You had failed her. Missing the chance to save your mother, too late to have done anything.

But you pause, noticing the presence at your door, your brothers familiar knocking pattern resounding suddenly through the empty hall.

“Come in,” Your voice is embarrassingly raspy. As you clear your throat, wiping your eyes with the back of your hand. But it wouldn’t hide the redness of your eyes.

Adrian says nothing, and a part of you wishes he did. His larger hand takes yours. A comforting squeeze.

You blink again feeling your eyes burn, and you squeeze his hand back.

“Father is...” He trails off, no doubt thinking of what he could say next.

“What he plans on doing, it’s not justice.”

You stare up at him, But it would be deserving. A bitter corner of your mind supplies.

While Adrian had taken after Mother in his demeanor, much more kinder, more welcoming. You were no doubt like Father. Reserved, distrusting, easily prone to grudges if you were wronged in some way.

But you bite your tongue.

“He gave them a year,” You murmur after some time, “But no doubt he’s ready to calling his armies.”

At this Adrian turns alarmed. the warmth from his hand slips away.

“We must stop him!”

You’re still reeling from the events from earlier today, and a part of you wishes to have no part in his attempt to try and stop your father. But then you remember your mother.

Her kindness, regardless of how she was viewed for being different.

And your warily stand anyway.

If only you had more sense. Your father remains eerily silent as he embraces you both. His hold tighter, and while Adrian seemed convinced, you saw the dark look in his eyes.

The year had passed. You weren’t surprised to hear of the bloodshed.

It was naive to expect otherwise. While reluctantly following your brother, you can only stand, frozen as your blood feels like ice in your veins as your remaining family clashes.

“No.” Your voice is barely a whisper.

They don’t hear you.

Glass shatters.

And foolishly enough, you rush forward.

With your brother injured and fleeing, and you yourself were not free from any sort of pain.

Stepping in between the two as they fought ended with a gnarly gash on your shoulder, as you fell to your knees and blood slipping past your fingers. Your father stands in front of you, like a protective pillar as your brother stares in shock, quickly wanting to help you in some way.

And then the fight is over. Your brother is gone too.

The castle is much larger and colder now.

As you’re confined to your room, the wound healing into an angry red, then to a muted and dull scar. For a moment you wished it took longer, your father guilty and you were reminded of times you had been sick when you were younger. While you had not been too keen on the typical children’s books, reading theory on physics and other sciences only seemed fun when he would read to you and you’d ask questions in between passages. (Your voice funny from a stuffy nose led to laughter and a small coughing fit but otherwise it was nice).

But now was not the time to reminisce on the happy childhood.

You know you cannot stay. Ultimately, Adrian had been right. Once you feel as though you can move your arm once again, slowly, you begin pack a small bag. You didn’t want to build up any suspicions, finding some money in your room and whenever you could take a few coins or so from your father that he would not miss.

Extra clothes were folded and put away separately.

And you make your escape on a rainy evening, the uneven droplets helping hide your tracks. But you knew now that your father had brought back Hector and Isaac, new generals to help fight in his war, you had to be weary of the night creatures that would no doubt be sent after you.

Well, you were creative. At times flying in a transformed look, no one would suspect a bat in the dark of night afterall. And it was easier to. find good vantage points that way. But to also avoid any people, you didn’t quite trust yourself to not get into an altercation with a bigot.

You rarely slept longer than necessary, especially not when those dreams were memories or nightmares.

Now that you had learned how to walk, you were a right menace. It was an uphill battle in itself to keep you in one place. You were curious and the world you knew (being your father’s vast castle) was huge. Your childlike curiosity was never let down by your adventures.

You laugh quietly, which sounds like small squeaks as you fly up and hide above the gaudy chandeliers. Your father, giant coat gone, hair tied back and in a plain dress shirt and slacks as he searched for a curious toddler.

Snickers continuing as he paces down the hall. You hop down, landing slowly and feet planting into the ground, knees bent. Before you had down the opposite direction.

The lab usually wasn’t a place you could be allowed in on your own. But having heard that your mother was there, you knew it wouldn’t be a problem! So your little legs carried you along. Until you found the familiar doorway.

Dozens of tubes and mechanisms had you turning your head as you wandered in, your shoes tapping against the marble floor.

“Now what brings you here, sweetling?” The warmth of your mother’s voice has you smiling before you see her. As you run forward and hug her side, clutching her dress in your small fists. “Not causing trouble for your father are you?”

You shake your head grin betraying your word, “Nope! I’m not doing any trouble!”

“And how since when did that happen?” She laughs gently.

“Now.”

Your brother looks up from his own books, waving before returning to work. Your nose crinkles, so much for playing experimenting. But before you can say much, your nearly yelp as you’re brought up into the air by a pair of strong arms.

“I’ve found you, little wanderer.” Your father’s voice carries no heat behind it. Then again, he was always soft hearted for you and your brother. But most of all, your mother.

“I’m not little!” You pout, “I’m big now!”

You’re taken away from your reverie at the snap of a twig.

With your lack of sleep, as you had insisted on traveling more, you were less than surprised to have been snuck up on.

“Peace, my friend,” The old man murmurs. You keep your knife in an iron grip in front of you. Who you’re guessing is his son or grandson, has his hands raised the same way, but no weapon to be seen, magic, oh good. Then again, not like you needed a knife when you could make your nails go into claws and the fangs. Don’t forget the fangs.

“I can’t exactly be peaceful when it’s the middle of the night and suddenly figures in blue robes appear out of now where,” You answer dryly. But seeing as how the others behind the main two have not done or said anything noteworthy, nor were their stances make them look like they could really fight, you lower your weapon slightly.

Clearing your throat, “Although, I shouldn’t be swinging my own weapon around either.”

The old man just smiles gently. And you can’t help but be just slightly comforted.

In the end, the speakers stop for the evening. And the Elder, despite looking like a frail old man, is firm in his decision that you stay and “eat properly.” And like a scolded child, you listen. Food and drink all but pushed into your hands as you’re quickly brought into conversation, the previous confrontation all but forgotten.

And then you perk up when he mentions Gresit.

“So... the sleeping soldier,” You begin, slowly chewing on the sweet bread you had been given. “It was true?”

The Elder nods, “My grandchild and a traveller, they had gone to explore it. Well, the traveller had gone to save my grandchild. I will not hide the fact that I was a bit doubtful. But Belmont had proved himself a man of his word. Although, he does need to drink more water.”

You blink, a look of a surprise clear on your face. Belmont...

Fuck.

“Although I hadn’t expected the legend of the sleeping soldier to be realized so quickly.”

At your inquisitive look, the Elder begins to explain. Of a holy warrior beneath Gresit, who would come to save it’s people in their most dire of hours.

“The pair had come up with a man with long hair, like gold.” You couldn’t help but let out the breath you had been holding. So the Belmont didn’t try to kill him. you could breathe a little easier at that fact.

“Where are they now?” You ask, holding the empty cup in your hands, as you stare down as though waiting for something.

Getting your answer, you stand, adjusting your bag over your shoulders. You wave off the concern in staying, if it had already been several days since the Speakers had left Gresit, then you needed to cover a lot of land to get to your brother.

That is, until you saw the expression on the Elder’s face grow stern, as though he was scolding a child. With a heavier bag, one that the Elder insisted that you take some more things you could eat along the way, in exchange you give the Elder a small trinket you had been using to hide from the monsters of your father’s army, you finally set off. While your worries were not completely settled, your shoulders felt lighter. Metaphorically of course.

Of course, giving away the object that kept you hidden made it a bit more, difficult, when it came to trying to hide and travel at night. Much less even try to stop and rest.

It had barely been two days since you had left the speakers, and already, you had run into some trouble, a beastly creature’s claws barely caught on your sleeve, leaving your arm bare as you shuddered from the chill in the air. You can only sigh mournfully, you really liked that coat. But, better your sleeve than say, you actually getting wounded.

Your nails resemble claws, while your free hand holds the dagger in a steady grip. But being surrounded on all sides, it did not look promising.

Well, you thought mournfully, if you died you could at least see your mother again.

Until you hear the sound of what reminds you of a whistle? And then a sword flying through the air, slicing through the night creatures, giving you a chance to get some distance.

You hear the surprised shout of your name, and look up, to see your brother wide eyed, sword now returned to him, and a man and woman standing at his side.

“Um... hi.”

Much to your relief, the night creatures are easily taken care of.

And as you’re finally able to explain your story, you find yourself relaxing into the extra cloak given to you by the Elder.

“You mean you met the Speakers on your journey?!” A woman, petite with short blonde locks, who you learn is named Sypha, asks, and you notice the way her shoulders sag in relief.

You nod, “Yes. They all were safe.” If her shoulders sagged anymore she’d full on be slouching. You leave out the part of leaving a possibly precious trinket with them, not wanting her to think you cursed them or something.

“So you mean to tell me, Dracula, fucking Dracula, had more than one kid? That he actually had a woman not only give him not just one, but two children?” Is incredulously asked next by the scruffy looking man. Trevor, as your brother says.

You only stare in annoyance, sure your father was about to raise an army to annihilate the human populace but he didn’t used to be that way.

Before you can retort with a scathing remark of your own, Sypha elbows him harshly in the side. And you know it hurts from the way he immediately puts a hand where she hit him, eyes widening slightly. Serves him right.

“And what of...” Adrian- no Alucard as he wishes to be called, asks, near hesitant.

“Father?” You ask, arms crossed, “Same old same old. Planning the same amount of destruction here or there.”

As he looks to the snow covered earth, you roll your eyes, “Did you expect anything different?”

It’s quiet, and neither Sypha nor Trevor speak.

“No.”

You all sat around camp quietly for a while after that.

Your lungs feel like they’re being constricted. Your throat burns as you struggle to breathe, claws digging into your skin like knives. Before you’re thrown backwards, landing harshly against the wall. Books fall from the book case and your weapon clatters noisily from the ground.

You take shallow breaths, barely standing before you’re thrown once more. Curse your father’s stature and supernatural strength. You close your eyes, waiting for another attack and at least hoping to brace yourself for it, but it never came.

Instead, your brother stands in front of you, as he and your father remain in a standstill. Sypha and Trevor’s footsteps are rushing towards you three.

It all continues to move so fast, until he stops noticing the painting of your mother, as she had been holding your brother and then you as a baby, and the next thing you know, your father is staked through the heart. And with wobbly legs, you take your sword, and swing. So falls Dracula. But it felt like no victory.

You sit up with an alarmed look, stopping yourself from shouting.

That was... a dream? You rub your eyes, feeling that your cheeks are wet and you sigh.

When you see a shadow looming over you, the light of the fire giving slight visibility, you freeze. Before noticing it’s your brother and not his companions.

“Sorry,” You say, making sure to not look at him, so that he didn’t see your tears.

Quietly, he places his coat over your shoulders, sitting beside you, wrapping his own blanket loosely around his own shoulders. “You have nothing to apologize for.”

You only grip the jacket lapels tighter, shaking slightly as you hiccup, unable to stop yourself from crying again.

He must think it’s because you miss your mother, and you do. But this dream was far different. And you say nothing as he brings you into his arms. Your tears having long since dried when the sun rises moments later. But you find yourself falling asleep as your brother rubs soothing circles on your back, feeling the build up exhaustion finally leaving you.

When you’re awake much later in the day you can’t help but laugh a little when Sypha scolds your brother for being mean enough to make you cry, he didn’t you assure her quick enough, although you’re back to laughing when she then turns around to scold Belmont when he makes another slight comment.

#castlevania netflix x reader #castlevania imagines #castlevania imagine #castlevania netflix imagines #mine

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pseudofaux · 3 years

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1/2 Pseu, the last couple Slings I rq’ed some dirty talk & MA’AM did u deliver. But I realized I never thanked/gave feedback like a dummy so here I am! They were so so SO good (fenrir esp & SIRIUS?! 😳 woof), pls dont doubt ur DT writing skills bc they were all so hot, /very/ in character (I could practically hear Kyles!) & beautifully written to boot. Ur prose has so much personality, it is such a joy to read <3 & I have def read those pieces. many. times. I just want to thank u & apologize for asking u 2 go out of ur comfort zone. When I get the chance I will def tip u for the trouble (& commission if im brave enough lol)

Thank you so, so much for this! I really appreciate hearing that the dirty talk worked for you, that’s the best. When other writers do that right it GETS ME FEELING, so knowing that might be true outward as well is!!! a lot and very cool! But if you are this nice to me I will CRY. 🥺💙💙💙 SO LET’S GET TO THE GOOD SH*T, I am so glad you asked for this because Faust is one of the best characters to get n a s t y with, the holier the man, the, uh... holier our holes? Something like that? ANYWAY:

CW: degrading language (”whore”, “slut”), sadism, some sacrilegious thinking regarding Jesus’ crucifixion (this is quick and about related imagery, but I’m putting it in the warnings just in case), depravity in a church. If any of the stuff in the ask squicks you out, keep yourself safe and turn away. 💙

(Requests are open through May 1 if you would like to get one in, dear reader!)

“A whore in my chapel,” he muses. It’s so soft, his voice is so very soft, it makes the words feel funny in her head. She knows they are lashes but they feel like petals, and when her eyes close it is not to hide from the words but to shut out everything except his voice so she does not miss any others. She wants everything he has to say. She wants anything he has to give her. All the thorns of the crown, every scrape of the doubter’s spear slicing through the flesh of her belly. Simply knowing him—as though there were anything simple about it— has warped her. That’s why she stepped through the doors into the dim chapel, lit more by moonlight than the sparse candles at the altar.

He tilts his head as he considers her. She is just beyond the threshold and she is just deciding she should beg him to let her stay when he moves closer.

“Open,” he says, but he is pulling at her mouth with one gloved finger as he begins talking so she has no chance to obey on her own. She wants to! Why is he taking that from her? She leans forward as though it will help her anticipate his next request sooner.

She is not prepared at all for him to grab her by the chin or come so close. Her heart knows the joy of an entire flock of freed birds when she thinks he is going to kiss her. There has never been a time when she blinked so fast in her life—

He comes close enough for warmth, but not touch. He spits between her open lips. “Move that around with your tongue. Get the filth out of your sluttish mouth,” he tells her. She is beyond shocked but she does as he says. It should be revolting to have someone else’s saliva in her mouth like this, but she is so gone for him she doesn’t even want to swallow, wants to keep that piece of him mixing with her, safe and warm. When he takes a step back and lets go, she falls to her knees with her palms up like some kind of penitent. She doesn’t mean to. It just feels right.

She could be in a comfortable bed right now, instead of on the unswept floor of a chapel, all her worshipful inclination aimed away from the altar and toward a very dangerous man. Will her foolishness mean they find her in a ditch somewhere... Will they find her at all? Or will he send her back on unsteady feet with her own juice tickling her legs as it travels from her core to the ground? She can’t fathom what will seem most cruel to him, what he’s most likely to do.

That’s not really a part of her interest. She’s not sure she could explain the interest if she tried, but it is the full shape of her heart now, and directs her nighttime steps to him no matter what her brain tells her otherwise. If she knew where he was during the day, she would try to find him then, too. Her comfortable bed is nice but it does not make her blood sing like he does. The pain he gives, and his presence, those are things she has come to need.

And he fulfills those needs. He’s generous with pain and he is always there when he gives it to her. She nearly swoons to the floor thinking about it, and only the thought that she might lose out on time with him keeps her upright and dutifully swirling his spit in her mouth.

“Get up, imbecile,” he says, and he points further into the chapel! She is being invited even more inside! She could weep! “Lean back against that pew. You’re not even worthy of kneeling in this place.”

She’s not. Somewhere in her there is a heart that is kind and good, and a person who tries to do her best, but the moment she left the mansion to come here she was guided only by selfish lust. It’s what makes her stand up so fast. She doesn’t even know what he will do if she manages to please him... so far she has only experienced his sharpness, and it has worked to hook her as surely as a fish.

Her feet are moving but she is lost in an imagining that he is piercing the side of her mouth when he shouts “Swallow already!” at her, and it makes her jump. It also makes her so, so happy that he was paying so much attention. Every echo of his rage is like choir music. She swallows immediately. In her rush her throat betrays her and she feels like she will choke, but before she can stop herself she coughs and then keeps trying to clear her windpipe. His hand is on her upper arm and he shakes her like a rag doll. It does not help, but it feels like a dance.

Faust grits out “Get. Over there.” and she gets, still coughing. It is uncomfortable and her eyes are watering but she longs for him more than air and he let go of her arm when he pushed her toward the pews. So her steps are sad ones.

She puts her back and her hands onto the curve of the pew. It’s wide, smooth wood beneath her. The sturdiness brings her head down from the clouds in time to hear the slide of the book bundle he has kicked toward her, just in time to move her ankle out of the way. He laughs and mutters something she can’t hear. She tries very, very hard not to pout about it.

“I don’t have all night,” he says flatly. “Put your foot up and show your sin to me.”

It’s a scramble to comply-- should she hold up her skirt first or put a foot on the books and then raise the fabric?-- but her body just moves, eager to comply. This is why she’s here. As much as for him, she is in this chapel for what only he can do.

He rolls his eyes as she wads up her skirt in her hands. Her stockings can’t be clean after that time on the chapel floor, and there is no way her underwear is without a telltale patch of lust, not with the way all his power has been pooling between her legs since before she even touched the other side of the chapel doors. When he steps close she can actually feel a tiny but undeniable gush of arousal slipping out of her so easily it might as well be her self-control. It’s mortifying. She hopes he sees.

Then he is close, close enough for one of his hands to slip behind the leg that goes straight to the ground and stroke it, which makes her bite back a moan. She has to clench her teeth shut just to withstand the gentle contact without falling over. When he pulls her leg up, her knee rests beside his hip and she begins to shudder so hard she fears she will convulse.

“Stop that this instant,” he hisses, and his fingers dig into the back of her thigh so hard all that gently-stroked flesh is too stupid to feel the hurt right away. It comes to her quickly, though. She bites back another sound, something more vulnerable.

He watches her, then leans in beside her ear. “You put your foot on a stack of bibles in a church,” he whispers to her, every syllable touching his teeth the way she wishes he would touch her. “And you spread your legs like you think someone wants to see your mess.” He makes the most derisive, delicious noise, and her eyes roll so far back into her head it nearly hurts. More words, more words, please...

He takes her by the chin again, and when he lets go of her leg she knows she needs to keep it exactly where it was, no matter how precarious this makes her balance, while his hand comes up to slap her face. “You don’t tell me one wretched thing, slut,” he enunciates carefully. She did not even realize her thoughts had become words. She quickly tries to apologize and he slaps her other cheek.

“Shut up,” he says, syrup sweet, and slides his hand back under her thigh. It’s the exact tone of a bully. She shuts up. She shudders, too, from the way it seeps into her and makes her warm all over.

He lets go of her chin and pulls the front of her underwear into his fist. He keeps pulling until the soft, well-laundered muslin digs at the back of her hips and her sex at the same time, right up against the tender flesh of her holes, and makes her yelp. He must have measured his strength exactly, she hears the snap of two threads but the fabric holds. He could rip it from her with ease. Why is he not doing that? He gives the muslin just a little slack, then pulls it even tighter and she feels like a marionette, all her limbs out of her own control. Were it not for her hands on the back of the pew, she would be a mess on the floor instead of a mess barely standing

Faust growls, “Be still, sinner-- and keep this leg up-- or I’ll make it so much worse.”

She keeps the leg up without his hand beneath it. She will never again doubt the existence of miracles.

He pulls the soaked fabric aside, pulls back his newly freed hand, and slaps her right on her slit without any preamble. The shock of the hit is gold and white-blue behind her eyes, and her sob is ugly, an animal’s sound in a place meant for prayerful people. He says nothing as she whimpers through the hurt of every little ripple of post-pain, the way the tingles stay focused on the flesh that took the hit. It feels like a scorch on both sides of her sex that she cannot escape; how appropriate that inescapable he put that feeling on her, in her.

Belatedly she realizes that she did stay still, and that calms her spirit, strokes her in time with his thumbs on the inside of each thigh. High like heaven. Soft as a dream. He may even be shushing her tenderly instead of telling her to be silent, but she is so delirious she cannot be sure. She can feel the way she is even more wet, because the slickness makes the burn better. Not in a healing way, in a way that clarifies the precious, god-given sharpness he provides. She is sinful and filthy and so far below worthy of his touch, but he does touch her, he talks to her and touches her, and when Faust does those things she feels very holy. There is a silence in her soul that makes it a little easier to ignore the way her body is screaming from pain and desperate want.

The slap hurts. It takes her a long time to come down from the pain and the heat. But when she is silent, he sneers and stops stroking her thighs, and then he does it again.

#ikevamp faust #ikevam faust #ikevamp fanfiction #ikevam fanfiction #dt nonny (bless you)#WHEW OKAY i do not smoke but I may need to go chew some gum

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realisaonum · 3 years

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book meme

thank you, jen @det395 !! i feel like this meme got away from me a bit, but no shame! i love talking about books and writing so onward ~under the cut~

1- how many books are too many books in a series?

mhmmmmm i guess it depends on the objective of the series, right? is the plan to have x number of books in the series and if so, when we finally get to the end will it be satisfying considering all the books we’ve read leading up to it? OR is the objective of the premise / characters just to exist doing whatever? both can be done well. i would say a lot rides on how much i trust the author.

2- what do you think about cliffhangers?

so this is meant for cliffhangers in a series like between books? i don’t really care if there’s a cliffhanger as long as i have the next book sitting right next to me. otherwise uh, only if the wait between books is tolerable, because at that point you need to know that the author can clear this mess up, right? there’s this other thing, like you know how if the entire series was already written, then they might release the books a month apart or a quarter apart - that could be alright too. but years in between? not especially a fan. is anyone a fan?

3- hardback or paperback?

jen, you and me are complete opposites here. paperbacks stress me out. i will go out of my way to buy a used hardcover if given the choice. of course, there are some publications i don’t mind in paperback —thinking poetry and super indie books that don’t have a hardcover release OR books where the spines are thin enough they won’t break and i won’t be holding them long enough for them to wear. hardcovers are sturdy and i don’t have to worry i’ll accidentally bend the cover in some damaging way. I am invested in keeping my books nice to the point that i create covers for my books out of kraft paper or brown grocery bags while i am reading them. this is something i started when i was in college and didn’t want these books i was hoping to probably resell get thrashed coming in and out of my bag for all these classes. My home library is probs more half and half paperback/hardcover but if given a choice usually it’s hardcover.

4- least favourite book?

i think it’s good to at least attempt to meet a book on its level. there are lots of books i didn’t like, but i wasn’t meeting them on their level and i know that so we’re ignoring those. i do however have a shelf on my goodreads dedicated to books that i have beef with so i’ll just go off on two of them.....

tana french’s the likeness for being plagiaristic shit. it is essentially poorly concealed alternate universe OC insert fic of the secret history. you’ve got french’s dublin murder squad folks and then this group they are investigating who bear a STRIKING resemblance to the greek students in tsh 🤔. this would be one thing. it is pretty well acknowledged that nothing is original and there are enough changes to The Likeness that MAYBE i could let it slide if not for this other thing: french’s book, the likeness, has lines that are just basically reworded quotes from the secret history and french positions these lines so they are said by the counterpart (essentially same!) character that gave them original life in tsh. i cannot stress this enough: you can HEAR how similar the sentences are and their core intent is always the same. it’s thinly veiled theft! it astounds me that French hasn’t been sued frankly. it is one thing to want to capture some of the genius that tartt’s debut novel holds, but it is completely lazy and disgusting theft to go about it in the way French did with this book. and YES the secret history was published before french’s book. if i could stomach how fucking goddamn boring the likeness was to read it a second time and cite every one of these offenses i would, but that’s yet a third strike against it—it’s too boring to be worth it.

T. Kingfisher’s second book of the Clocktuar War duology : The Wonder Engine. this is a book that i feel violated the contract between writer and reader. the first book feels almost like a YA book. the stakes while described as very high are treated, as actions unfold, as very low. nothing truly irreparable happens until the climax of the second book and the fallout of that action is so off-tone of everything that came before i felt deeply betrayed. no, like, completely betrayed as in it ruined the rest of my afternoon, i am still viscerally angry eight months later, and i will never trust this author again. sure, maybe none of those actions that led to the climax were out-of-character, but there was nothing NOTHING in the proceeding action that even came close to that level of consequence. it’s a pity because right up till that point i was having a really good time. the entire vibe of the rising action to the climax of book one all the way through the rising action of book two was just a quippy fun version of roadtrip/quest - it felt like a comfort read. the abrupt tone shift had all the subtlety of dropping a graphically, brutal murder into Blue’s Clues. you don’t do that - this is a basic tenet of a writer / reader relationship. i’m not touching this bitch’s shit again.

5- Love Triangle, yes or no?

not so much. i like jen before me will scream ‘just be poly.’ love triangles that lead into poly relationships? yes, awesome will be glad i read. but i am at a stage in my life where your standard will-they-won’t-they-love-triangle is just fucking pointlessly frustrating to me. an example: i read a Nic Stone’s book Odd One Out a couple years ago and something about the synopsis or the hype made me think that it would resolve the love triangle that way, so when that did not happen i was incredibly frustrated and immediately wanted to resell the book. it’s the potential of the thing. stone’s book could have been the perfect vehicle for opening up the concept of polyamory to a ya audience but instead just really squandered that potential with weak floundering — in my opinion!

6- the most recent book you just couldn’t finish

uhhhhh i’ve got two and i’m not sure i’ve entirely given up quite yet buuuuuuuut

fucking dune. i got really pissed off with this book. So just…setting aside the whole vaguing at a pedophilically inclined queer coded villain - it’s done so poorly, that it's almost funny? like it doesn’t (as of half way through) actually have any consequence on…anything at all and is tacked on like an afterthought to the end of his scenes. honestly it all could just be cut out entirely with no recourse to the larger story. So my actual beef with this book is the pacing is ATROCIOUS. like yo, not only do you expect me to give a shit about these Atreides cunts, when we just met them and we spend the same amount of time with them IF NOT MORE with the antagonist? but you also expect me to believe Paul was able to just convince the leader of the Arrakis people —the leader of an entire planet!!— with a single fucking sentence??? yeah, not so much. it was not set up for me to believe that Paul could do that! maybe if Kynes hadn’t died immediately after—or at least not died at that moment? baring the fact I thought he was by far the most interesting character, IF he had been convinced by Paul in that scene, it would have been great to see some actual work done around that - with a transfer or a liaise of power between Kynes and Paul and the Fremen. By not having any substantive scene that does it - it begs the question of what the fuck was the point of the character in the first place? unplumbed potential!!! over all there seem to be some key scenes missing to get the reader to where the narrative expects us to be? but the choices made of the characters we spend time with and the moments we see with them, the benefit to the larger story…is not always there. hey herbert, these words you have written aren’t doing what you want them to?? i feel like i should finish it but i reaaaaallly don’t want to :) the only thing i can say is it looks like from the trailer, villeneueve is giving space to these moments so that the viewer can foster a genuine connection with the characters? radical concept.

our lady of perpetual hunger - i started this one optimistically bc i like chef memoirs, but i am at the point where she has just given birth to her son and honestly DON’T CARE. i still haven’t officially given up on it yet since i actually fucking bought it like a dope. i certainly would not have if i knew how much NOT about working the line this was gonna be

7- book you are currently reading

Aside from the failures mentioned above, I am working on the second book in B. Catling’s Vorrh trilogy, The Erstwhile. Also very close to finally finishing Iain Sinclair’s The Last London - there’s a review of his work from the LA Times that goes “One of Sinclair’s greatest skills has always been his ability to take diverse if not chaotic source material and refashion it in a way that sometimes seems downright alchemical” which captures some of the wonder I experience when reading his work. His style and how he creates atmosphere and setting is just unique and astounding.

8- last book you recommended to someone

The Secret History by Donna Tartt. Before that I told my brother to read Eat a Peach, as we both love Anthony Bourdain and David Chang talks about him a bit here, plus it’s just a fucking great book. any book that gives insight into Chang’s methodology and paradigm is worth a shot.

9- oldest book you read

I think it might have to be Shakespeare’s Twelfth Night (which apparently according to wiki premiered on the stage a whole four months before Hamlet so that’s what we’re going with) and if plays don’t count, I don’t care. I think they count and that’s what we’re going with.

10- the most recent book you read ?

Given the previous question, the most recently published book, right? It’s gotta be the one I just finished: The First Collection of Criticism by a Living Female Rock Critic - Revised and Expanded edt., which like just came out this summer. I watched Jessica Hopper’s promo zoom, curtesy of my local indie bookstore, and went ahead and bought it. This was a great decision! It was just what I needed to read these last couple of weeks. i love there’s lots of short pieces that made the read quick and the fact that it’s non-fiction so there was no pressure of a plot or the emotional weight of character investment when I had a lot of big stressors dragging me down irl -it was such a relief. Hopper’s criticism is fun to read and there’s some real art in her appreciation of music here.

11- favourite author?

These are the top in a kind of order but not really: Donna Tartt, Jeff VanderMeer, Megan Whalen Turner, Flannery O’Conner, Chuck Palahniuk, Anthony Bourdain

Other faves very much worth mentioning: Emily O’Neill, Richard Siken, Brandon Sanderson, Warren Ellis, Nathan Englander, Stephen King, Eddie Huang, Carl Hiaassen, Anne Carson, and Iain Sinclair.

12- buying books or borrowing books?

Depends on if my library has it, of course! I nearly always see if my library has a copy first if i have never read it or the author before. If i’ve read the book before or trust the author, I’ll buy it. Like I’ll straight out buy new stuff from Jeff VanderMeer even though with him it’s either this-hits-exactly-and-is-my-new-fave or i-really-disliked-this-but-admire-the-boundaries-you’re-pushing-my-dude - so it’s always a gamble but a worthy one.

12- a book you dislike that everyone else seems to love

a little life (just bc it's torture porn elevated to art doesn’t negate the fact that it’s torture porn. Yanagihara’s project here is repugnant and the fact that this book is lauded as moving lgbt fiction makes my skin crawl)

sharp objects (good writing, compelling story, BUT typographical scarification doesn't work like that - i am not going to get into it but i know from first hand experience how Flynn described it is not accurate)

nesbø’s the snowman (what kinda dumbass detective would think THAT when a woman finds her missing father’s corpse? absolute idiocy - so obviously reverse engineered with that end in mind)

the raven cycle (fuck ronan lynch to start and then fuck him to end as well - there’s some other stuff but mostly he’s a total CUNT and if i don’t say that once a day i have probably died)

14 - bookmarks or dogears?

Bookmarks and sticky notes. Then I can place it pointing directly to the paragraph I last stopped on.

15- The book you can always reread?

This is my question because I reread all the time. ALL THE TIME. Books I reread often: The Secret History, Medium Raw (especially chapter 17 The Fury), Crooked Kingdom, The Violent Bear It Away, and The Goldfinch. Every year like clockwork (since it came out apparently) I will reread Stephen King’s The Outsider.

Other books I feel the urge to reread: VanderMeer’s Acceptance, Englander’s Dinner at the Center of the Earth, Frazier’s Nightwoods, Fresh Off the Boat, the Mr. Mercedes trilogy, the Peter Grant Series (which is queued up for another go here soon I think), any of the stories from A Good Man is Hard to Find, Sanderson’s Wax and Wayne Mistborn books, simon vs the homosapiens’ agenda, and there are two of Alan Morinis’ books on Mussar that I am technically always revisiting—when i need a reminder, i’ll jump around and read specific sections to get centered again.

16- can you read while listening to music?

Yes, but only ambient or near ambient (only usually one track on repeat) or a soundtrack I am extremely familiar with. No new music. I do usually need some audio stimulation or my mind will wander terribly.

17- one POV or multi POV?

Multi pov can certainly be done well (looking at the soc duaology and VanderMeer’s Acceptance) but working a multi-pov means there are more plates spinning, it’s more of a challenge, and some authors pull it off better than others.

18- do you read book in one sitting or in multiple days?

I don’t really do this anymore. that might have something to do with me picking up thicker books? but also i have a full time job now and let’s be real the book has to be hella good if i don’t want to put it down. the last book i attempted to shotgun was the final installment of my favorite series and it still took me two days so....i can get through a lot of books but none of them are ever in one sitting anymore.

19- who to tag:

@sybilius @mouth-rainboy @iwonderifthatisart @phereinnike @magnificentmoose @wambsgangs @moriarteaparty and anyone else if you feel so inclined!

Bonus Question: What’s on your to-read shelf?

As for me, I am excited about one i just picked up, Danforth’s Plain Bad Heroines, which i might start tomorrow and I will be taking Paul Madonna’s Come to Light on my trip to see my brother this coming weekend.

#this took a while but was fun #thanks again jen #very excited to read other folks responses #also like a general content warning? i mention/refer to things in the books but nothing's unpacked here #still to be cautious reference to mature themes #the narrator feeling posthumous

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aphrodite-would-be-proud · 3 years

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omg so I read this manga this morning called Sesame Salt and Pudding and it’s ab this 22 y/o girl who gets drunk and accidentally marries a stranger, who happens to be 42. it’s the cutest lil slice of life just a really healthy relationship and all i could think was this would be the funniest meet cute for Erwin.

Thanks for linking me the manga website anon omfg you're a real one💙🐛

Alright so below is my 1am thoughts while reading it as i listen to a daddy/mommy issues playlist i found online and drinking green apples monster energy.

Tw: mentions of sex | Tw: suggestive words

Chapter one

The girl is really pretty, I'm really gay.

Wait so she married him while drunk and now can't remember anything?

This lowkey does look like Erwin without gel in his hair

...why can i see Erwin as the type of drunk to not only sign a wedding registration paper but also demand both of you must go get wedding ware, paying for your dress or suit.

Consent 👏yes👏100%👏the bare minimum👏Erwin values consent above literally anything else👏Erwin wouldn't touch you without permission even while drunk out of his mind👏again it's the bare minimum👏

An older dude that cooks & cleans while staying home as i go out and provide for us? This is my dream. Stay at home husband Reiner stay at home husband Reiner stay at ho

Ngl i think Erwin wouldn't know anything past basic cooking despite him reading all these cooking books and watching videos, i think if he really was dedicated he'd sign up for a cooking class go get high level skills just to impress you but treat it like it's nothing

...he didn't wanna stare at her chest so he went to clean the fridge- Erwin would def be that kind of gentleman to change his own attitude instead of ever telling you to change or cover up.

I love her job oh my god yes.

Ooo a love rival huh👀 is this gonna turn into a triangle situation

The only love rival I'd ever see for Erwin is Nile tbh, like i think if it was Miche, Hange or Levi then he'll talk it out and either him or the person backs off.

He gets gloomy when jealous huh~

THIS IS FUNNIER THAN IT HAS ANY RIGHT TO BE DOAKDJKAKSN I CAN'T.

I can't even imagine Erwin's reaction if you said this to him, like he won't even be mad he would just be really taken back, standing there like 🧍🏼‍♂️...he'd even be amused.

Okay- okay this is a good reaction...I think Erwin would say something similar but rephrase it to he more subtle yet somehow making it sound dirtier.

Something along the lines of, "well, if you're so sure then why don't you find out yourself."

And "after all i can't deny that i haven't thought about how beautiful looked last night...how the more beautiful you would've looked laying down."

"You looked like a really delicious treat"

"All pretty and alone, tearing about your worries, i just wanted to make you forget them all and leave the rest to me"

I should stop-

Chapter two

HE SAID HE IS HER UNCLE I CAN'T BREATHE I LOVE THIS

Oh shit he overhead them oh shit

Shit is going down oh god

Man if it was Nile in this hypothetical insert then he'd be hold this information like the petty bitch he is and use it at the date instead.

Chapter three

Ngl dude, i really hate it when they treat it like a women's reputation is all she has. I especially hate the purity culture of that a young women can't be a roommate with a man because "what will people say" like...if they're fucking who cares and if they aren't literally who cares? Do they realise gay people exist too and two women have an equal chance of sleeping together too?

It feels like they treat women as children, maybe I'm just projecting bc i live in a similar kind of culture where all these rules apply here if not more.

Anyway that manga is cute, it just angred me that these two men think they're responsible for solving her problem or as if they have any right to scold her or be angry like she's some kind of child and should listen.

It's her life, it's her problem and it's her who will solve it.

DUDE SHUT THE FUCK UP. he's really acting like a bitch as if he has any right to be angry or even judge her oh my god.

"Impure background..." Get fucked.

The only ONLY reason he even can be angry is because she didn't mention being married while they were going for a date but they didn't even go on that date and nothing was official so why does she have to tell him her private life.

RED FLAG RED FLAG RED FLAG HUGE RED FLAG

"get divorced immediately" HUGE FUCKING RED FLAG

Controlling Insecure cunt.

I'm sorry anon that I'm really going off on him and I'm sorry if you like him- it's just that i really really can't stand these things

THE MANGA IS LOVELY THO THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR RECOMMENDING IT I'D LOVE MORE WHENEVER💜

Oh baby, oh angel I'm so sorry you had to go through that, in no way is it ever right to get angry and yell no matter what especially since you apologised and admitted to your mistake.

Especially since he knew it was something you did while drunk and deeply regret it but he still took out his angry on you like you betrayed his trust when you weren't even together or like you intentionally did it.

Narcissistic dick.

I'm not talking about the next scenes because it might be triggering.

Chapter five

4 is missing :( idk how her parents visit went

We just started the chapter and-

Fuck her. Like what's up with toxic abusive people being too comfortable saying these things lmao like they actually take themselves seriously omfg.

Imagine saying this about Erwin tho, like it feels powerful to say. John maloney was right after all huh

So we doing this huh

👀

....oh :( we were just getting to the god part, man Erwin wouldn't have let a phone stop him.

Also bless the translator for their note at the end, it's good we're seperating fiction from reality and clarifying things to people on how to act in these scenarios.

Like drama is fun and all, I'm a huge sucker being extra, but things are different in real life and using fiction as a guide to how to deal with these, clearly written to be extra, situations should never ever be anyone's first choice.

Well that's all the 10 images tumblr will allow me in one post, i hope you had fun anon because i sure did! And i can definitely see this as a sweet wholesome Erwin/reader story, and if i ever did a an inspired rewriting of that manga with Erwin i can definitely see it being really fun to write!

Although i will change some stuff like that guy, i know people have good and bad sides but the guy specifically made me uncomfortable for personal reasons, i also Don't like mentioning serious things like anger controlling issues without diving deep into them.

Imma go finish the manga, if you want a part two, or have a different thing to recommend, please let me know💙

#talking🕯#Erwin🕯#recommendations🕯

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ziracona · 3 years

Note

Hello, me again! A pair of questions! Opinions on Oni and Spirit, and have you heard the community Cosmetic Contest has returned?

Hmmmm, well, Oni I have almost no opinion on at all, and Spirit I really like and have many thoughts on.

Oni didn’t really capture my attention much? I mean, he’s like, very okay--I didn’t have strong like, negative, or find it super boring. Just also his design and story weren’t really interesting to me either. He was a very 0 on a sliding scale of -100 to +100. Uhhh, he was a bad dude, hurt and maybe murdered a kid and her family once bc his kid got injured while playing with her, did a bunch of unnecessary murder for barely a reason, but not as horrible as a lot of the killers? He’s got a cool bludgeoning thing. I just never really cared one way or another about him. Although, last times I played DbD I got a weird number of Kazan’s who were super nice to me, so Kazan mains I have strong positive feelings towards, and probably that also made me like inch him from a 0 to a +6 in my interest level. Still not many thoughts. Sorry. I guess the way his stuff was written just didn’t grab me.

Uhhh, Rin I really like. She’s a super tragic figure and what happened to her was fucked, and also very interesting. The girl seems like she was a really nice person, hardworking, caring. And the Entity basically turned her into an eternal violence battery and kidnapped her and trapped her doing exactly the last thing she’d ever want, what was done to her, like it so likes to do with so many others--Lisa, Philip, etc. It’s extremely cruel. Also kind of brilliant to take an Onryo, like, disgusting, but to its credit, also baller move. Because she can’t ever betray it, really. Or just die or run out of steam. Onryo only ever go away when their desire for revenge is met, and until then, they are just balls of massive power and hate that kill anything they see, even people they don’t want to kill/would never have in life. And since her father is not in the realm, she can never kill him and know peace, so she’s trapped in this hell of being a vengeful ghost who is only herself for fractions of seconds at a time, watching herself do monstrous things to people just like her, and unable to ever be free. It’s super fucked. But I really love Rin and have a lot of sympathy for the girl. 10/10, would care about again.

EDIT: SHIT. I forgot there were two questions. I’m really out of it this week. Uhhh, no I hadn’t. I don’t really follow dbd news haha.

#ask #skorn-fossil #dead by daylight #the spirit #Rin Yamaoka #actually there's two or maybe /three/ ways to deal with an Onryo 6u6 but that's a secret rn #that's a surprise tool that will help only me later

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vegalocity · 3 years

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What would happen if Syntax actually did get cured of the venom? Would he still want to hang around Huntsman and Goliath or would he Think 'huh. Maybe having the people who KIDNAPPED ME around me and my family Probably isn't the best idea.' - Pixel Anon

Uhhhhhhhhhhh yeah I think the answer is Not Good Things Will Happen. I think the answer is ‘Y’all are down an integral clan member hope you didn’t have any plans that hinged on technology or science in general right now.’

Honestly I think you don’t even need to throw Minyi and Xiuying into that equation to make that the answer. Even if you assume Syntax was essentially just alone in the world before spiderfication if he got the spider limbs pulled off and the venom drained from his system, no matter WHAT his Backstory is i think he’d just book it, he’d be OUTTA THERE he is GONE. He’s running before the purple has fully faded from his skin.

And when you THROW IN the ladies, then… well even more so. He’s got Minyi in one arm, a duffel bag in the other and loading into the gd car headed for Xiuying’s cabin to lay low for awhile.

(this gets long so it's under the cut)

Like, most people like to assume that there was a sort of… adjustment period when he had just been spiderfied, usually the flavor of ‘someone (usually Huntsman) reminding him of how he is at his base a human, not a spider, not one of them, and the second he stops being useful is the second he’s only good for how he’ll taste’ and even if he wasn’t afraid of whoever it was in the moment, confident in his ability to manuver extra limbs that aren’t there anymore and speed that wasn’t there either, all the physical additions that being a Spider Demon had are suddenly gone and that threat about being the next meal for the clan suddenly feels a lot more real. Even IF the others had actually grown attached to him and Minyi and even Xiuying, the fact of the matter is if these people decided to kill them all he wouldn’t be able to do anything about it.

Something I could see having kind of a ‘disney channel cartoon’ resolution in this setup is a thing idk if i’ve mentioned before involving Minyi or not. Bc Minyi, as i know i have mentioned, fucking HATES Spider Queen, and at first for awhile there she was very vocal about it, she hated that her dad was working for her, she hated that he wanted her approval, and most of all she hated that whenever she’d say any of that to him, he’d just sort of… not listen.

Even when even Minyi knows what she’s talking about is silly or irrational, she never really feels like Daddy isn’t listening. Even when she’s wrong and he has to explain to her what it was that was wrong, she still felt like he was listening to her as she talked. But not this. Never this. Minyi’s an observant child, her plotline hinges on it, so she knows when Adults tune her out, she knows when she’s being condescended to. And when Daddy tells her that of course he wants to stay Loyal to Spider Queen and she’s Really Cool Actually she can tell he wasn’t listening to a word she’d actually said. Because he never mentions forgiving her for stealing him, or that he knows it might look like she pushes him around but he knows he’s always in control of the situation, or anything that would actually ANSWER her questions or settle her worries. She just… might as well have stomped her foot and yelled like she was half her age.

And now that his head is clear he can look back on that and be… embarrassed? guilty? His daughter was warning him that whole time out of honest fear and concern that she only barely had the vocabulary and emotional complexity to understand And he brushed her off as if it was nothing. And to rub some salt into it now that his head is clear and the unrelenting force of the Spider demanding subserviance to the Queen is gone it’s obvious that his fucking six year old was right about his ‘boss’ being bad news. So of course he figures he owes Minyi an apology, but Minyi’s just happy that he’s listening to her again so it’s all okay in the end.

And if this is the Cyberhunt timeline then can I get an F in the chat for Huntsman? Bc he ain’t even getting a breakup scene, i don’t think he’d even get a letter outside of the ‘I’m leaving the clan and leaving the city with my family. Don’t try to find us’ that goes out to all of the clan (maybe even still implying that Syntax DOES still have that Spider amplification in him so it’s not just a flimsy ‘stay away’ from an equally flimsy human)

I could see Syntax as being pretty mad at himself for letting the relationship happen at all in that context. Like yeah, his brain was all scrambled up and he can’t ACTUALLY be held accountable for decisions made with the fact that he wasn’t really in his right mind for the whole thing, but it still happened. But now it’s over, and- and it was just some echo of venom that hadn’t quite metabolized yet that left a bitter taste in his mouth to acknowledge that those people weren’t really friends, that he wasn’t really-... His brain is still re-adjusting, he’ll be fine in time.

Minyi I don't think would quite get certain parts about this, in her mind, the big boss is always the bad guy and the other people around are just as scared of the big boss as the person they’re bullying. So to her only Spider Queen was the bad guy. So when Daddy turned back to normal and said that they weren’t safe from the bad guys anymore and needed to go stay at Auntie Xiuying’s cabin for awhile she’d thought that Uncle Huntsman and Uncle Goliath hadn’t come along simply because Uncle Goliath didn’t fit in the car. That they’d catch up with them soon. Because surely, they’d ALL be running away from the REAL bad guy together.

So, she figures they must have gotten lost and had to head back home. Thats not good, surely that means she needs to help them find their way here like how she helped Daddy find his way home. Auntie and Daddy were both too scared of Spider Queen finding them to contact her uncles, but Minyi knew how to evade that!

She knows Uncle Huntsman likes to hang out at their apartment because he loves Daddy (she’ll keep that to herself for now, grownups don’t believe in happily ever afters) so if she mails a letter to the apartment he might find it when he eventually comes over.

She knows Uncle Huntsman doesn’t like puzzles, but he’s good with them when its something important. So she makes a cipher and writes the letter in it, copies down the decoder, and chops it up into distinct shapes, seals it all up in a letter closes the envelope with a sticker on it, and slips it into the mailbox.

Eventually Huntsman does find the letter, written in childish scrawl, the puzzle to decode the letter, and the knowledge that theres only one child on this entire damn continent that would be this obnoxiously enigmatic about sending a fucking letter.

But whatever, he wasn’t gonna do anything except sit in the apartment surrounded by things left behind and feel sorry for himself--er, that is, scavenge for anything that could be used by the Queen and take advantage of the internal heating. So he may as well do something. So he puts together the decoder, she’d just sliced it into fourths. Then translated the letter.

“Hi Uncle Huntsman! If you’re reading this that means you unlocked my letter! Yay! I knew you could! So I know you and Uncle Goliath want to leave the bad lady’s clan too and I know you’re only not here because you guys got lost.” and she just… gave them the coordinates for the place her family was hiding away. (not REALLY hiding, it wouldn’t have taken much to track down the cabin’s whereabouts through Xiuying, but the secluded nature of the cabin may as well have been)

I guess… the way the story ends depends on how you want it to end. Because Huntsman has three options, but really only two. Does he accept defeat and burn the letter, or does he do something with the information he now has? Either way he’d be betraying the queen, but he doesn’t have it in him to turn in the coordinates of their lost clan member and his family. Not this time.

There’s this youtuber i like called Breadsword, he does movie analysis, and in his video about Millenium Actress he says something along the lines of ‘My favorite moment in a romance is somewhere in the last ten minutes, after we’ve followed our characters through the buildup, payoff, and premature destruction of what they had, as they go their separate ways and come to the conclusion that it wasn’t meant to last, one rejects it and takes flight in pursuit of the other... our dreams and our love are the only things truly worth running in the name of.

#Yeah i think Cyberhunt's gonna pull the win for this timeline #this is some good shit man #letters to vega #OC: Minyi #lmk Syntax #LMK Huntsman #cyberhuntshipping

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teawithkpop · 4 years

Text

[M] - PhysCom - Pt 5

pt 1 - pt 2 - pt 3 - bc 1 - pt 4 - pt 5 - pt 6

Pairing: BTS - OT7 x Reader

Rating: Mature [18+]

Length: 9.1k words

Genre: PhysCom AU - smut with dashes of angst, and a shitload of romance and complicated feelings,, uhuhu (porn with plot??)

Warnings: mentions of sexual acts, swearing, mentions of sexual abuse/manipulation, mentions of non-consensual sex - (these are both mentioned very briefly in the chapter and do not center around any of our main characters, but please be cautious if this is a sensitive topic for you!)

*meme voice* ah shit, here we go again.

thank you everyone for your patience regarding this update!! <3 I appreciate you for waiting patiently and for all your love in the meantime! I hope you enjoy ^^

-------

"Please, will you take this vacation?"

You stare at Namjoon, at the desperation written on his face as he begs you to accept his offer, and a war wages within your heart.

On the one hand, you have no good reason to believe him, not after you’d heard him and his members discussing you behind your back like they did. The key could be a fake, his little theory could be a ruse to let your guard down so you won’t put up a fight when he finally sends you packing.

On the other hand, you’ve never had reason to doubt Namjoon up until an hour ago. He seems to have always looked out for you, always appreciated your work. This could be a genuine plea for your cooperation in a bigger picture, like he claims.

But the shadow of doubt still covers you. The sound of him and his boys squabbling so carelessly, taking a vote on your future. You can’t let that memory go so easily.

“Never trust your client. They will only betray you in the end.” The words of Madame run through your mind again, as if confirming your fears.

You want to believe Namjoon. But you need to protect yourself before anything else.

You slowly break away from his grasp, taking the key and tucking it into a pocket on your belt. “Kim Namjoon...” you say, your eyes cast downwards.

He seems more relaxed now that you’ve taken his peace offering, and he tilts his head to the side, listening intently. “Yes?”

Your brain claws desperately at a strategy, at anything you could use as leverage. But all you have are words. What can you say? What protection do you have left? You’re putting yourself at his mercy.

“During my time in this house... I have learned many things about you and your members. Things I don’t think you want the public to find out about.” Lies. He knows it. You know it. The only secrets you know are their kinks, which aren’t exactly damning to their characters. Even if you did have dirt on them, who would listen to you?

You continue, though your voice sounds uncertain, even to your own ears. “If you’re lying to me about any of this, then I swear... I’ll do what I have to, and... ensure that you pay for your mistake.” You try to imbue strength and determination into your words, but your heart isn’t in it, and you’re sure he can tell. You can’t even meet his eyes. You have no fight left in you. You’re like a frightened animal that’s been backed into a corner.

Fuck. You’re just so tired of this, of everything. You’ve been through too much recently with not even a moment to catch your breath, and you’re just… exhausted. You’ve tried, you really have. You’ve done your best, you’ve gone down swinging. But you can’t do it anymore, it’s all too much...

You feel numb as Namjoon wraps you into his arms. When did he come over to your side of the table? You don’t remember, you can’t think clearly.

“It’s okay.” Namjoon’s breath is warm against your cheek. “You can rest now.”

Can he read your mind? You must look so pathetic, your body shaking as he holds you tightly, like you might float away.

But right now, you don’t care. He’s seen you at your worst already. You choke on a quiet sob and your fingers twitch, longing to reach up and hold him, to reciprocate...

“Alright, has everything been sorted?” Yeji’s arrival carries away those ideas, and Namjoon pulls away from you with a gentle pat to your shoulder.

“I believe it has,” he says, and he stands up to greet her as the two of them start to wrap up the details of your agreement. Their words turn to buzzing as the rest of the meeting passes by in a blur. You're too dazed to pay attention, too numb to feel anything but a vague sense of resignation as papers are signed, handshakes are given, and your fate is placed in his hands.

Before you know it, you’re back up in your room again. Whatever farewell that Namjoon had probably wished you as you shut the door had fallen on deaf ears. You can’t process anything more right now.

-------

The first few hours of your sentence pass by in silence, tears slowly trickling down your face as you lay on your bed. Your brain slowly works through its state of catastrophe. Dimly, you worry that you might never pick up all the pieces. Some have blown away in the recent whirlwind of disaster, some are stained, irreparable, all of them worn from being taped and glued back together, over and over again.

You feel broken.

Is this what they wanted? To break you?

You roll over onto your other side, uselessly wiping the tears from your face as fresh ones spring to your eyes to replace them.

You know, somewhere inside yourself, that you can’t just sit here and throw a pity party all week. But damn it, it’s been a while.

You just need a little time. Soon, you’ll be back on your feet, you tell yourself. You’ll bounce back, just like always. You’ve never failed before.

But what if you do? What if you fail yourself, fail the boys? Fail your family, yet again? You want to curl up and never move for the rest of your life. The craggy void of failure at your feet has you nearly paralyzed, afraid to misstep. Afraid to get that last strike and finally be sent home.

You groan. You’re so exhausted and frustrated of picking yourself apart like this. There's no point in agonizing over what ifs.

You’re here. You’ve arrived at rock bottom. Now the question is where to go?

It feels eerily calm as you sit up in bed and survey your surroundings. No noise pierces the utter stillness of your bedroom apart from your own breathing. It’s stifling.

By now, it has to have been at least a full day since you came upstairs, right? You feel like you’ve been laying on this bed for ages. You grab your ComGear to check the time, and whimper in despair.

It’s only noon. About two hours since the meeting.

After another brief bout of agony at this revelation, you take a second look at the screen and are surprised to see over a hundred notifications. You expect it to be due to the group chat, but a fair amount of them are actually from your clients. You don’t bother to open each conversation, but merely look over their previews - the most recent messages they sent you.

[ Kim Seokjin ]: please try to get some rest, alright? [ Jung Hoseok ]: I’m sorry… truly. please enjoy your time off. [ Park Jimin ]: just let me know! ^^; [ Kim Namjoon ]: Promise. [ Min Yoongi ]: you know where to find me [ Kim Taehyung ]: enjoy your vacation, jagiya~ ♡ [ Jeon Jungkook ]: are you coming down for lunch?

All of them messaged you, but it doesn’t make you feel any better. It hurts to see them pretend like everything’s fine and see if that makes it better somehow. It looks like most of them didn’t even try to apologize for what they did to you. Maybe you really aren’t that important to them after all.

Could they see through your attempts to befriend them all this time? Did all of their kindness to you mean nothing? Is that how they treat all of their employees?

You feel tears threatening again, and you wish you had a friend to talk to about all this.

Then it occurs to you that maybe… you do.

You flick over to the group chat, where you see that the other PhysComs are now talking about some webtoon and sending memes to each other. You tap on Sascha’s profile again. The same page greets you, the same blank profile picture and call button as before.

Yeji had said that the chat was real. If that's true, then the people in it must be who they claim they are, right? You do trust Yeji’s word, but you need to find out for yourself. You’ll never be able to fully accept this undercover group chat as a reliable resource until you know for sure.

Hey, if you’re suspended anyway, what’s the harm right? What are they going to do, fire you?

You bark out a sob of a laugh, and your finger hits the button before you can stop yourself. Yes, this might be a bad idea, and yes, you shouldn’t risk putting yourself out there on the hope that it’ll connect you to a friend, but you need to know the truth. You’ll feel better if you know that there’s still someone in this world that truly understands you.

It rings. And rings.

As the ominous buzzing stretches on through the silence, your worry starts to return. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea after all. If the chat room is somehow compromised, you might have just given yourself away, someone high up in the industry could be tracking your location at this very moment from your cell signal or something, or maybe-

“Hello?” Sascha’s voice rings clear as a bell through the phone, and you almost start crying right then and there with relief.

“Sascha?” You can barely utter her name as all your memories of training together hit you like a sucker punch in your already fragile state.

“Oh! Hey, sweetie! How’s it going?” she replies in her chipper way, a smile in her tone.

“... It’s really you,” you whisper, pressing your fist to your pursed lips to keep your emotions at bay. “Sasch.”

“Of course it’s me, silly goose.” Her laugh is bright and airy, just like you remember it. “Who else would it be?”

You wait a beat, scouring your mind for a test to prove your paranoia wrong, just in case. “What… what did I give to you on our last day together?” You ask imperatively, waiting with bated breath for her answer.

It was not something either of you would easily forget, though most people probably would. It’s also the best test you can think of, as anyone else would assume such an important day would go hand in hand with a meaningful keepsake or an important gift.

“A sandwich,” she laughs. “Pastrami and mustard on rye. You shared it with me to celebrate reaching our target weight that month. Though you never let me pay you back. I would have preferred ham, you know.”

Your shoulders visibly relax. It’s Sascha, all right. Compliments and complaints in the same breath. It’s as if hearing her voice, hearing the confirmation that it’s really her, turns on a faucet inside you that had long since dried up.

“Sascha… so much has happened.”

You didn’t fully realize how lonely and isolated you’ve been until this very moment, now that you have some true company. Your story comes spilling out, every sordid detail, and Sascha listens attentively to what you have to say, just like she used to during your training days.

“So, now I’m in my room, and… I don’t even know how I’m going to get through today, let alone a whole week,” you confess, hugging your stuffed rabbit to your chest.

“Let me get this straight.” A while into the call, you’d switched to video chat, and Sascha appears to be doing some yoga stretches while catching up with you. “You have seven men in that house, all of whom you’re supposed to pleasure sexually, and they’re giving you a paid break from pleasuring them?”

You nod. “Awful, isn’t it?”

Sascha’s face twists. “You know, I think you may be viewing this all wrong.”

Your brows furrow. “Excuse me?”

“Hear me out for a second,” she continues, now angling her warrior pose so she’s facing her camera. “When was the last time you had a real break?” She quirks an eyebrow, dipping out of frame to switch poses, her blonde hair spilling over one shoulder in a loose braid. “One where you didn’t even think about work?”

You stare blankly at the camera. You’ve had no such days. You’re always looking to improve yourself to maintain your high marks. “Um…”

Sascha laughs and flashes you a fond smile. “You were the same way in training. You know how many days a week I work?”

You feel shame start to curl in your gut. “How many?”

“Three,” she replies. “And the reason why is because we have like six Primary PCs here at the dorm.” She blows a stray lock of hair out of her face. “There are thirteen boys to satisfy at any given moment, so we each only tackle two to three at a time, and our coverage is considered thin! Most groups have at least one Primary per client.” She reaches down to touch her toes, her ass shimmying in the air, and you snort. “And that’s not even counting our Secondaries! We're practically a fucking harem over here!”

You sigh, chewing on your lip crankily. “What’s your point?”

She pokes her head up to shoot you an equally cranky glare. “Remind me, how many boys do you tackle?”

“Seven,” you mumble. You know what she’s getting at, but it’s something you don’t want to admit, even to yourself. Maybe… objectively… you do need a break, even if you don’t want one. Maybe you’ve been overworking yourself, biting off - or in this case, perhaps swallowing - more than you can chew.

“Right! That’s half the amount of our clients. Doing the math, you should have at least three Primaries there, but it’s just you.” You see Sascha’s leg rise up behind her in some sort of bizarre stretch, and her voice sounds strained with the effort of holding the pose. “I’m not saying you can’t handle it, babes. I’m just saying that... you do a lot for them. Maybe this will be good for you.”

Hearing someone put it so rationally makes you feel like maybe you’ve been overreacting. Namjoon did tell Yeji he wants to keep you, but it all still seems... off, somehow.

“What about the whole vote thing? And Namjoon’s deal?” You bring up your last few defenses at her argument, your hand resting subconsciously on the pocket of your belt containing the key to his studio.

“Oh no, that’s all highly suspicious.” Sascha blows a lock of hair out of her face as she comes back up and lifts her arms over her head. “But what’s happened has already happened. So I think you should make the best of it, and take this time to rejuvenate yourself. Just keep an eye out, and if those bastards try anything, you send them to me.”

You laugh. “Rejuvenate? How am I supposed to do that?” You roll your eyes at her playfully. “Yoga?”

Sascha props a hand on her hip. “Don’t joke. Yoga is a very valid form of rejuvenation.”

You giggle at her stoicism and she cracks a smile too before continuing. “But seriously, honey! It breaks my heart that you’ve been working so hard, you don’t even remember how to have fun. Come on, what did you do in your training days to relax?”

You think back and try to remember. Most of your memories from training are a blur of hard work, endless studying and practice. You’re about to confess that you really have no idea, when a single memory breaks to the surface, and like a dam, it releases a flood of other times you’d taken breaks. Sneaking out to get snacks, late night adventures, stargazing on the rooftop, all of the rare little pockets of time that you could call your own, and they all had one connecting factor.

“Music,” you breathe, feeling like you just stepped out of a time warp. “Listening to music, really, really loudly.”

Sascha laughs, a proud smile adorning her dimpled cheeks. “I think you know how to kick off your vacation, then.”

You find yourself grinning, too. “Thanks, Sasch.” You feel like maybe you should stay on the line a bit longer. You two really have some catching up to do, even though once you’d started talking, it had felt like no time had passed since you’d last seen her.

But Sascha makes your decision for you, blowing you a kiss. “There are tons of music streaming apps. Go crazy. And call me if you need anything, okay?”

The simple act of her being supportive of your wellbeing has you feeling overwhelmed all over again, but this time, it’s not from emotional distress. “Thanks, Sascha. Same to you.”

You’re about to end the call when you hear a door open on Sascha’s end of the line. She looks off camera and a smile pops up on her face. “Antione, come over here!” She yells, running off screen and returning a moment later, dragging a boy behind her, who seems to be grumbling in protest of her manhandling. “Antione, say hi! This is Antione from the group chat.”

The guy seems more than a little ticked off at Sascha, but when he catches sight of you on the screen, his mouth falls open.

“Oh… hello.” He flashes a smile, and his icy blue eyes are now filled with wonderment. “You’re the Primary for BTS?”

“Hi,” You wave a little awkwardly. “Yup, that’s me.” You can’t help noticing how strikingly similar he and Sascha look. With those crystal eyes and buttery blonde hair, you could mistake them for twins, the only difference being Antione’s thinly framed glasses next to Sascha’s 20/20 vision. But you suppose he wouldn’t really need glasses to have sex, they’d surely get knocked around or broken if he left them on. He probably wears contacts for work.

In fact, his similar appearance to his coworker can’t be a coincidence, especially if they’re both Primaries for their clients, and it leads you to believe that perhaps all of their Primaries bear a resemblance to each other, so that any combination of fuck dolls could be considered a set. From this, you suspect that their clients may be into incestuous role play, or perhaps they like the idea of fucking someone’s “sibling”.

Not concrete evidence, but it’s not a far reach. You’ve seen plenty of stranger kinks.

You’ll have to ask Sascha about it on your next call with her, as you’re sure she’ll ask you more about what things your clients usually request of you. With one girl among seven men, she might presume that they enjoy gangbanging you.

She wouldn’t be wrong, of course.

Kink talk was a common pastime among your peers during your training. You all had been trained to analyze a person, what makes them tick, and how it’s related to their psyche. It had always fascinated you from an academic standpoint, even though some of your fellow trainees would prefer hearing about the dirtiest cases, regardless of the psychological factors that went into it.

“Is all going well? You feeling any better about all this?” Antione’s kind voice tears you out of your thoughts, and you give him a brief, grateful smile.

“I’m getting there,” you reply. “Thank you for all your help. It’s been… a lot to take in, and I’m glad that you recognized that, and helped me ease into it.”

“Not a problem. I’ve been in that position before, and it takes some adjusting, for sure,” he replies.

“That’s what she said.” Sascha snickers. “Alright, stop flirting, you two!” She shoves Antione offscreen, and the boy yelps at once again being pushed around. “Call me if you need me, babes! Have fun! Bye!”

Sascha reaches over and ends the call, and you’re once more on your own. But you don’t feel as isolated as before.

As long as you have your ComGear, you’ll never be alone again.

The thought makes you feel warm inside, though you scold yourself for being so sentimental. You need to recharge, or how did Sascha put it? Rejuvenate.

It doesn’t take long for you to find a decent music streaming app, though it’s becoming harder and harder to ignore the buzzing as your clients keep messaging you. You realize that the notifications might interrupt your music once it starts playing, so you reluctantly open all their chat threads, only to mute them.

There. Now it won’t buzz anymore. They shouldn’t care if you left them on read. They want you to rest, right? You huff derisively and start searching the vast music library, trying to recall what you used to listen to back in the day to pump yourself up.

It dawns on you while you browse that you haven’t listened to any music for the past six months, apart from whatever the boys are rehearsing at any given time. The sound always reaches you whenever they practice, even if they’re rooms away. Though their songs aren’t too bad, they’re still not something you had chosen to listen to.

You hadn’t taken any time to be yourself, since you were so busy trying to be what they want from you.

You feel a vague sort of sadness when you think about it like that, imagining it happening to someone else, but you’re too subjective of the situation to really feel sad for yourself. You hadn’t take time for yourself, however you still climbed the ranks, earned their favor, became their only Primary. You’d achieved your goals.

But at what cost, asks a little voice in your head. What did you lose to win your dream job?

And are you even happy with it? Or is it just the satisfaction that you crave? The satisfaction that you would feel after achieving any other goal? The satisfaction of a job well done?

You shake your head. Whoa there. Too deep.

This is the most mental airspace you’ve had in forever, and it’s starting to show.

You don’t waste any more time trying to remember your old favorites, and instead tap on a “Hot 100 Hits” playlist. It’ll be interesting to see what people are listening to now. Maybe you’ll find some new favorites.

Sure enough, the first song that comes on is a pop rock tune, with a catchy beat and heavy drums. It makes you bob your head and you feel a surge of instant regret at not making more time for music. You’d forgotten how it can take you somewhere else, clear your mind and help you forget all your worries in a way that sex never can.

You’re a bit jarred when the lyrics kick in, though. They don’t rhyme at all, and they seem a little… stilted, like a robot is trying to sing. Damn, is this what kids are listening to these days? You knew that those singing hologram voice programs used to be a thing, but this seems almost unintentional.

You check the screen and sure enough, it’s a Korean title staring back up at you.

Your auditory auto-translation chip is changing the song into verbatim English.

You start to laugh. The unintended consequence strikes you as ridiculous. It seems that reminders of your job are everywhere.

With a sigh of exasperation, you head into the settings of your ComGear and access the language screen. You turn off the auditory auto-translation, and the song reverts back to the original lyrics, which are much easier on the ears.

Now that that’s taken care of, you turn the music on full blast and stand up.

Alright. Music, check. Now... how to leisure?

You look around and assess your room. It’s relatively tidy, and cleaning it won’t take more than ten minutes. You could work out, you have plenty of equipment. But that’s what you usually do on your days off. Improve yourself for work the next day.

What would Sascha say? Maybe… guilty pleasures? You put your mind to coming up with the most self-indulgent thing you can imagine.

Of course, you immediately think of chocolate.

But you’re not really hungry. To be honest, your stomach is still a little knotted up from the meeting.

Maybe not that kind of self-indulgence. You’ll just feel guilty afterwards. Maybe… maybe something pointless. Something that’s fun just for the sake of being fun.

You whirl around and take a long look at your bed as the music sweeps into the chorus.

Fuck, why not? Who’s going to stop you?

You climb onto the mattress and start jumping. You feel pretty silly at first, but the longer you jump, the lighter your worries feel. It’s as if you’re leaving them in the air with every bounce. The music blasts from your night table and you get a little bolder with your jumps, really putting power into them.

You’re lucky you have high ceilings, as you go higher and higher, you could swear you’re flying. You start to laugh, throwing some twirls into your leaps, and as the music blares, you sing along, off-key and with nonsensical phonetic lyrics.

Your cheeks hurt by the end of the song, and you’re out of breath, giggles falling from your lips as you finally jump down into a sitting position on the edge of the bed.

When was the last time you jumped on the bed like this? Must have been when you were young, with your sister.

You feel the same dull ache you always feel when you think of her, though you normally make it a point not to do so. The memory must have slipped past your defenses while you were enjoying yourself.

Lost in your thoughts, you almost don’t hear the insistent pounding at your door, the music and thick walls muffling the sound. You had mistaken the noise for part of the lyrics, as they sounded like gibberish to you. But finally you noticed the person trying to get your attention, and you hurry over to the door as they continue to speak in tongues.

“Neo geogi an-e issni? Yah, mun-eul yeol-eola.”

You pull open the door and are met with the unreadable face of Min Yoongi.

“Gwaenchanh-a? Jeonhwaleul an bad-eusyeossneyo.” He continues to drawl in gibberish, and you merely stare at him, immensely confused.

It clicks for you a moment later, and you hold up a finger to him. “Um, hana… uh, shit, one sec.”

He gives you an equally confused look, and you hasten back to your ComGear to turn the auto-translate back on as well as pause the music. “There, that should do it.” You turn around to see him peering curiously at you.

“You were speaking English,” he says it halfway between a question and a statement. He must be used to hearing you speaking auto-translated Korean, just like you’re used to hearing his words in English.

“Yeah... I forgot to turn my translator back on.” You explain halfheartedly, your shields already locking back into their familiar place. It was a nice, if brief, moment of total freedom, just jumping around to music, but the carefree bubble has popped, and you're once more faced with reality.

Yoongi's eyebrow raises at the mention of the technology, but he merely shrugs a shoulder.

A few awkward moments of silence pass before you realize that he isn't going to explain himself on his own. Something about that, about the expectation for you to move things along, has your hackles raised in irritation.

Just like always, he's expecting you to do all the work.

"Did you need something?" You try to stay professional, even now, but you can't keep the edge out of your voice. All traces of your previous enjoyment have shriveled up and vanished in the face of the man who told your other clients that you were something replaceable.

He prods his cheek with his tongue, his face mask shifting from where it rests below his lips. "You weren't answering your phone," he says by way of an answer.

You stare at him, already growing weary of this interaction. Does he expect you to be as accessible as you were before? You don't plan on contacting any of them if you can help it, at least, not for right now.

Wait, did Namjoon tell them what happened? He must have. But if he didn't, then maybe that's why Yoongi is here. There’s no point in having any more misunderstandings; you have to make the situation clear.

"I'm suspended." Your voice grows quiet, and you look off into the hallway, shame coloring your cheeks. You know you shouldn't be, but you still feel a sting from vocalising your current demotion.

Yoongi gives a hum of affirmation, confirming that he already knew, as his eyes roam over your body. "Forbidden fruit..."

You tense, your body reacting involuntarily to his offhand comment as heat rushes to your core. Your most primal senses want him to give into the temptation and pin you against the wall... No, snap out of it. You’re still mad at him, no matter how attractive he may be.

But thankfully the moment of tension passes just as quickly, and his gaze returns to your face. "It’s a shame I already ate, unlike some people.” A flicker of humor in his eyes. “Here."

He hands you a paper bag, with a takeout logo on the front. You can't do anything but stare at it. It seems that your processors are still down for maintenance.

“You didn’t have breakfast.” Yoongi finally says, after it becomes clear you aren’t saying anything. “You’ve been up here since the meeting.”

It finally dawns on you, though the logical conclusion seems hard to believe. “You were… concerned about me?”

He tugs the face mask up over his mouth, concealing most of his expression. “Jungkook,” he corrects you with a slight cough. “He sent me up here. Poor kid was worried sick about you.”

You hesitate to take the food, even though your stomach is curling with hunger. Is this an attempted peace offering? Does he think this will make things better?

Before you can question his motives, he sighs and shoves the bag towards you. “Take it. You still have to eat, you know.”

You’re tired of fighting, and take the path of least resistance by accepting the bag. “Thanks,” you say, half-hoping that this will be the end of it and he’ll just leave. But the other half still holds the whimsical notion that he actually cared enough to check up on you.

“It’s fine,” Yoongi shrugs again, looking off to the side.

You'd only ever known Min Yoongi as a salacious dom, stuffing you full and showering you in filthy praises. It feels surreal to be standing here now, holding a normal conversation.

After another moment, it becomes clear that his business here isn’t finished, and quite frankly, you’re getting impatient. “Is there anything else?”

At this, he seems to remember his reason for coming. “Ah, yeah. Can I come in?”

Into your room? You blink in dismay, the answer should be obvious to him. “No.”

You think you can see his mouth lift into a smile beneath the mask. “Good. That’s the spirit.” He gives a slight nod, as if appraising your disobedience.

You aren’t sure if this is normal behavior for him, as you’ve barely spoken to him out of character. You know probing him about it will only drag out this interaction, but your curiosity gets the better of you. “What… what are you talking about?”

He shoves his hands in his pockets. “I’m just glad to see that you have some backbone. You’re usually so willing to follow orders.”

You bristle at this. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me,” he says, lifting an eyebrow. It would have looked like a challenge if it had been more deliberate, but the way Yoongi carries himself is effortlessly casual and careless. "He gave you his key, right?"

It takes you a moment to discern that he’s talking about Namjoon. You nod once, and he scoffs.

"I knew he would. Poetic bastard." Yoongi sighs, then fixes his gaze to you once more. “That means I have to share my studio with him until all this is fixed.” He clicks his tongue in annoyance.

You aren’t sure how to reply, or if he’s even looking for one. If he wants an apology from you, he’s out of luck. Namjoon’s questionable decisions are not your fault.

But he doesn’t wait for any words from you, and instead turns around to go back downstairs. “Anyway, enjoy your break.”

“Wait.” You aren’t sure why you stop him. Maybe because he doesn’t seem like the type to bullshit you. “Min Yoongi.”

He pauses and looks over his shoulder at the sound of his name, an indiscernible expression in his eyes.

Your resolve turns to steel, using the last ounce of your strength to try and get some answers. “Tell me what’s going on. Why is he doing this?”

Yoongi glances up to the ceiling as though thinking of what to say.

His next words do not inspire confidence.

“I have no fucking idea.”

Your shoulders slump down a fraction. You aren’t sure you believe him, but it’s too much effort to hope for anything beyond his word. You can’t handle any more disappointment right now.

Yoongi scratches the side of his temple and gives a weary sigh. “If I could look inside his mind, then maybe I’d have a clue...” He stares at you intently, and his gaze trails down over your body again. You resist the urge to cover yourself, though now you realize you don’t have to resist. Your body doesn’t belong to him right now, and it won’t for the next several days.

Your arms cross themselves protectively over your chest, testing the waters of your newfound independence. “My eyes are up here, byeongsin.”

His eyes widen a fraction at your cheek. He tugs the face mask down below his chin again, a bewildered smile twitching onto his face, no doubt surprised to hear you cursing him out in Korean. “Who taught you that?”

“Taehyung.” You smirk, proud of yourself for catching him off guard for once. You remember when Tae had told you how surreal it sounded to hear you swearing in his language.

“Doesn’t it sound the same?” You ask him, confusion furrowing your brow. “The translator…”

Taehyung shakes his head, grinning from ear to ear and practically bouncing from excitement. “It sounds different! Like… like you have an accent,” he giggles. “Say it again.”

“Shibal.” You repeat the word hesitantly, the syllables feeling strange on your tongue. Mouth shapes for Korean are so different compared to English.

Taehyung bursts into a fit of laughter, clutching his sides as he rolls onto his back. You whack him with a couch cushion. “That’s not fair! You already know all the English profanities.”

Tae’s eyes dance with laughter as he sits back up. “All thanks to Namjoon-hyung. Shit, bastard, damn it to hell, and of course...” He sticks out his tongue, running it over his lips. “Fuck you.”

There’s a flutter in your stomach from the look he’s giving you. You snort and whack him with the pillow again. “Yup, you got all the highlights.”

His hand slides over your thigh. You meet his gaze, that flutter returning as you see the lust swirling like smoke in his pupils. “Jagiya...” His hand grazes farther up your thigh. “I want to fuck you.”

Things had obviously escalated after that, and you might have gotten lost in the memories if Yoongi hadn’t let out a low chuckle, bringing you back to the moment. “Wow. What else did he teach you?”

You grin, about to let loose a string of foul language, but he holds up a hand before you can, waving off whatever you’re about to say. “Nah, forget it. Leave it a surprise.”

“I’m full of them, you know.” You can’t help feeling a little proud.

“I know.” He stares at you for another moment before turning and heading downstairs. “Make sure to eat,” he calls over his shoulder, and soon enough his footsteps fade away.

A warm feeling fills your chest in his absence, and you can’t quite explain why. His last words prove that he must care about you a little, even if he doesn’t try to show it. The Yoongi you just spoke with feels like a completely different person than the one you overheard in the kitchen. Different even than the one at dinner, who suggested Seokjin should use another slut in your absence.

The memory taints the feeling of warmth, and you sigh. Why are things so fucking complicated?

You head back into your room and devour the takeout with less grace than would be expected for a seductress such as yourself, and mindlessly scroll through your ComGear, which is now more of a standard cellphone, exploring all the newly accessible features.

You’ve missed a lot of news, both locally and globally. Celebrity gossip. Politics. Entertainment.

Wait, whoa. What?

New Witness “B” Comes Forward About Sexual Manipulation in the K-Pop Industry

Sorry, what?

You click the article, your mind reeling with morbid fascination. Why would there still be any “manipulation” now that groups are given PhysComs? Why would they need any other sexual outlet, when they’re given vessels that are willing to serve?

Our witness, who wishes to remain anonymous, has independently corroborated with Witness A’s story. “B” has told us that, like “A”, they weren’t given a choice when it came to filming private sessions with their clients.

“[Group] told me that it was my job. That it was what I was there for. But they filmed me without my consent. They posted the videos online and made money from it. It’s not right. I got out, but there are still others like me who need help. It shouldn’t matter that sex work is against the law. What these people are doing, taking advantage of us… it should be just as illegal. We need a voice, too.”

You may recall that Witness A’s shocking story from earlier this month sparked rumors about illegal sexual companions being provided to entertainment companies, a practice which up until now had been considered hearsay.

However, with this new testimony, it seems that “A” may have had some truth to their story. We tried to contact [Group]’s agency, but they were unavailable for comment.

Holy shit… you had no idea any of this was happening. Thinking on it, it stands to reason that not every PhysCom is treated equally, given the vast multitude of people who have access to them. But where are these PhysComs’ handlers? Why aren’t their networks helping them?

You find polarizing comments beneath the article, most angry that the companies would allow the sex work to take place, very few praising B’s decision to speak out, and some disbelieving that PhysComs even exist. There are also a few very lengthy comments that catch your eye, demonizing the witnesses and making threats towards other companies, should the commenter’s “oppas” be caught in this scandal, too.

You feel uneasy as you click away from the article. The rest of the takeout is put away in your mini fridge, your appetite gone as you try to make sense of things.

That article gives you the feeling that something is happening, not just here in this house, but in the world. Like floating pieces of a magnetic puzzle, you know they’ll all come together somehow, eventually, but you still can’t see the big picture.

You send the article to the group chat, and they confirm that they’ve seen it.

[ PCsv02_svt ]: scary, right? TT-TT [ PCsv02_svt ]: I don’t know what I’d do if I were them, poor thing [ PCsv03_twc ]: they should’ve gone to the police [ PCsv04_blp ]: why did they wait until now to come forward? [ PCsv03_twc ]: if my clients ever treated me badly I would have done something [ PCsv09_$px ]: it’s not always that simple [ PCsv01_svt ]: yes consider the repercussions… [ PCsv01_svt ]: an illegal sex worker reporting nonconsensual sex? [ PCsv01_svt ]: that’s like a robber reporting another robbery

You mull over this as you let them debate the topic. You imagine what it must be like to be in that position, taken advantage of by your clients… you shiver at the cold injustice of it.

There is a certain degree of trust that's employed in any kind of sex work. You're still offering intimacy in some form, which can't be fully given without trust. It must be utterly horrific to see that trust broken and be unable to stop it.

You want to help these people somehow, but right now you need to help yourself. One sea of turmoil at a time.

You click out of the chat and switch to each conversation with your clients, copy and pasting the same message to each of them.

Please don't contact me for the rest of the day. I need time alone.

Since you're suspended, you figure they can't punish you for making yourself unavailable. Though it pains you to think of them relying on the other PhysComs at their disposal. Seokjin already has. You forcibly push away the thoughts every time they bounce against your mind.

With the boys out of the way, you assess your options. You need more information about what the hell is happening, and the most likely place you'll find it is obvious. What did Yoongi say? If he could look inside Namjoon's mind… then he'd have an idea.

You happen to have the key to his mind right in your belt.

-------

It's surprisingly difficult to sneak out of the house without alerting anyone. You left your door locked and music blaring. Between that and the text you sent, you thought leaving from your window would be a piece of cake.

You neglected to account for the height.

Your room is on the third story, too far to jump without damaging yourself. Thankfully, you've seen enough movies to have the idea of fashioning a rope out of extra bed sheets. Unfortunately, bed sheets are not the best rope material. Too slippery.

You mull over what to do for a few moments, and you laugh out loud when you realize that the solution is absurdly simple. Hello? You have literal ropes in among your sex toys. Even better, they're designed not to give the user rope burn, while still knotting like a dream.

It doesn't take long to shimmy down from your window to ground level, and you stash the end of the rope behind some bushes, planning to use it later to return to your forbidden tower.

Disguised in a hoodie, you feel like a spy in an action movie, or a runaway princess, and the thought makes you giggle as you make your way towards the nearest subway station.

It's been too long since you've ventured out of the house. You had nearly forgotten how invigorating the bustle of the city could be. You feel like you’re breathing fresh air for the first time in ages, though the pollution in the distant sky would say otherwise.

It only takes a quick search on your jailbroken ComGear to find the address of the building where Namjoon's studio is located. BigHit Entertainment.

You'll have to be careful not to encounter the others. They probably frequent their record label, and the last thing you need is to bump into one of them. You would have no explanation for yourself as to why you're here. You'd rather avoid the questions.

Unfortunately, it proves harder than you’d think to get into the building. A fingerprint ID scanner meets you just inside the auxiliary door.

Fuck. It’s too much to hope that they have your prints in their database, right? You place your thumb over the scanner, and it buzzes, the sensor light turning red. No go.

Well shit, what are you supposed to do now? You’ve come all this way, and you wouldn’t even be here if it weren’t for Namjoon’s stupid key.

Wait, why the hell did he give you the key if he knew you couldn’t get into the building? Bastard. You groan and kick at the base of the door. You try your prints again, but none of your fingers grant you access, the scanner buzzing mockingly with each failed attempt.

You’re about to give up when you hear a voice behind you. “Here, let me.”

You swivel around and see Jeon Jungkook place his thumb on the scanner, a to-go cup in his hand and a duffle bag on his shoulder. The light turns green and the door whooshes aside to let him in. The lift in his brows tells you he recognizes you through your flimsy disguise, but he merely gestures for you to go ahead. You sheepishly walk through, knowing better than to question this stroke of good fortune.

Or bad fortune, as it turns out.

"What are you doing here?" Jungkook asks quietly, once you two are inside the sleek lobby. "You said you wanted to be left alone."

"I did," you confirm huffily, still embarrassed about your struggle to get inside the building. "I do."

"Then... why are you here?" He takes a look around the lobby, where a handful of people are milling about. “It’s not really a good place for being alone.”

You chew your lip. This is the most Jungkook has ever spoken to you. You consider coming up with a story, but it occurs to you that you don't actually know where Namjoon's studio is located inside the building. You’ll need a guide.

"Namjoon said I could use his studio," you explain, deciding to include as few details as possible about your reasons for being here.

"For what?" His brow furrows.

Why all the questions? You’ve always thought of Jungkook as timid, more the type to stay out of the way if someone is up to something, rather than grilling them. But for all you know, maybe he gets assertive in the workplace. It doesn’t matter. You have bigger concerns right now. "To release my first single, obviously,” you snark, crossing your arms. "Look, I’m here for research, okay? You can either help me, or stay out of my way."

His eyes widen. He's never heard you speak to him as yourself, let alone this brazenly. But to your surprise, he nods. “Okay. What can I do to help?”

Well, damn. You didn’t think he would actually agree. It could be that he wants to report what you do to the other boys, acting like a spy. But you’re only here because Namjoon gave you that key. He can’t fault you for using the collateral that he gave you, right?

Fuck it, you’re tired of second guessing. Now is the time for action. Fuck the consequences.

“Where’s Namjoon’s studio?” You ask him, an edge in your voice. “Show me.”

Jungkook hesitates for only a moment, and then nods. He looks wary, almost nervous, and you have to wonder why. Even with your confidant demands, he still has the power in this situation, as always. You’re a nobody who couldn’t even get in the door without his help, and he actually works here. He could have you thrown out, if he wanted.

The thought sends a bolt of worry right to your chest, and you decide to do everything you can to not remind him of that fact.

After a strangely tense elevator ride, Jungkook silently leads you down several corridors until you come across a frosted glass door.

“Here,” he says, gesturing towards the door.

“This is it?” You ask to confirm, and he nods.

You take a deep breath and retrieve the key from your belt. His eyes widen as you slot the key into the lock, and with a gentle twist, the handle turns.

“Where-” Jungkook’s eyes widen to the size of dinner plates, and you turn around to shush him.

“It was a gift,” you explain icily. “Now, if you’re going to help me, then stay right here and make sure no one comes in, got it?”

His lips purse in suspicion and his eyes narrow, but he nods. “Fine.”

Satisfied, you turn back to the door, and it’s only then that you notice the keypad beneath the lock. Clearly the silver key Namjoon gave you isn’t the only way into his studio, as he had previously implied. Some collateral.

More and more doubts fill your thoughts, but you have no energy left to hesitate as you carefully pull the door open and slip inside their leader’s forbidden sanctuary.

-------

It’s much smaller than you thought. Really, only the size of your walk-in closet.

The silence in the room is palpable, the only noise stemming from the gentle purr of electronics. Your gaze gets stuck on all the collectibles he has on display, all around the room, in glass cases and on shelves. Mickey Mouse bodies, with skulls and crossbones for heads. Everything is black, white, and shades of gray.

They make up the only distraction in the room, but they’re everywhere.

You then notice the only clear surface, or relatively clear, as his desk, opposite the door. A grand computer screen sits front and center, with various equipment stacked around it, and a piano keyboard on a tray beneath the glass desktop.

You hasten across the carpeting, and gingerly pull out his desk chair, plush leather with a high back, ergonomically designed.

It feels like a siren will go off at any moment. You aren’t supposed to be here. You’re intruding.

But you need answers. He gave you the key.

You shake off your sense of foreboding and sit down, swiveling yourself into place. A quick shake of the mouse wakes up his computer.

Fuck.

You need a password. Of course. Nothing in your life can be simple.

After a few moments of muttering and seething in frustration, you try to calm down. Okay, so maybe this won’t be an in and out procedure, maybe this will take a little more thought.

Okay, think, think… what would he use for his password?

“It’s ‘monimoni0613’.”

The voice scares you shitless, and you swivel around to see Jungkook poking his head in the door. He gives you a half smile. “And that’s in Korean. You want help?”

You clutch your chest. “Fuck, don’t scare me like that!” You snap at him, though he doesn’t seem particularly intimidated. How does Namjoon even work with his back to the door like this? You’d be constantly looking over your shoulder. Is he really that trusting of people?

Jungkook doesn’t wait for your answer and comes inside, letting the door fall gently shut behind him. “It’s after his dog,” he says, leaning over you to access the keyboard and quickly type in the password. He smells like shampoo.

Your heart picks up the pace as he hovers over you, his eyes trained on the screen. He’s only inches away from you, his necklace dangles in front of your face in a way that you should not find tantalizing.

“His dog’s name is Moni?” You ask, trying to tell your heart to kindly get a grip. You’re on a mission, no time for horniness.

“Well, ah… yeah. Let’s go with that.” Jungkook makes a slight noise of triumph as the computer unlocks, Namjoon's desktop wallpaper greeting you - yet another skull-headed Mickey.

"Wait, how do you know his password?" You can't help but ask. After the ordeal you went through just to get to his inner sanctum, this feels too easy.

"He lets me use his computer sometimes, for gaming, and stuff…" the boy trails off, looking elsewhere as though embarrassed.

"Okay…" You stare at him. "Thanks for helping."

"You're welcome."

There's an awkward silence.

"Go wait outside." You say.

"Yup." He ducks back out of the room, leaving you to your investigating once more.

You exhale once you're alone again. Okay, where to start? You scan his desktop, but the icons are surprisingly neat. A few programs, a few shortcuts, a few folders, all of which prove fruitless.

The folders contain music program files of what appear to be songs still in the works. Although interesting, not really what you're looking for.

Jesus, how could he trust you with all this? You could leak these to the public. You could sell them, and never have to worry about job security again...

He must be fucking desperate to put his entire career in your hands.

Just like your career currently rests in his own.

You shake off the idea of selling the insider information. Although tempting, right now all you really want is answers as to why the fuck he's doing any of this in the first place. Why did he suspend you? Why did things stop? You had a spotless record up until last night, so… what changed?

You check his recent files next, and happen to find exactly what you're looking for.

Theory - draft for proposal

Seems like a solid lead.

You click the link, and a word document opens up. Unfortunately in Korean.

Of course. Of course he would write in his native language, and of course, it’s only your ComGear that translates messages from the boys, you don’t have bionic vision. There are a few random English words scattered here and there, but not nearly enough to make heads or tails of what the document is about. You could use an online translator, but you need a full understanding of this material, there’s no room for error here.

Should you ask Jungkook? No, you should not. He seems innocent enough, but your sense of self-preservation now overrides any trust you might have once given him. You bite back a groan of frustration and instead mutter a few choice expletives through a heavy, weary sigh.

Then you get an idea.

If your ComGear is what usually does your translating, why not just send this there?

You fumble to highlight the document, then copy it and head over to Namjoon’s email. Yikes. Lots and lots of unread. Well, you can’t blame him with his hectic schedule. You skip over a couple of emails at the top that appear to be from law firms, and instead click to compose a new message.

Fuck, this will leave a trail, won’t it? If he checks his sent emails, he’ll see that you saw… whatever this turns out to be.

It doesn’t matter. He gave you access to this room. He knew the potential consequences.

You paste the body of the document, type in your email address and hit send. Not moments later, there’s a chime on your ComGear, and sure enough, an email has arrived. You don’t get much correspondence these days, apart from your network. Well, your old network. Now your phone constantly has notifications from the chatroom. It feels strangely comforting.

Without another moment’s hesitation, you tap the email and anxiously wait for it to load, praying that the automatic translation feature doesn’t fail you now.

Soon, the English text appears, and your worries are put to rest within the first line.

We must build a brighter future for PhysComs.

#bts #bts smut #bts fanfic #bts x reader smut #bts x reader #bts fanfiction #bts ot7 #bts ot7 smut #bts smut fic #bts fic rec #yoongi x reader #jungkook x reader #thank you all for enjoying physcom! <3

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jilyandbambi · 4 years

Text

auuuurrrghhhhhhh

but GERALT of RIVIA really is Peak Soft™.

battle-scarred, world weary monster slayer whose first instinct is ALWAYS to spare the monsters he's sent to slay so as to show the humans in power how and why the fanged scaly beasties Aren't So Bad. like some kind of Medieval Crocodile Hunter but Buff and Depressed. Because maybe if he can convince non-supernatural people to react with empathy when they encounter what they can't understand or overpower then hopefully, in time, that kindness and compassion might be directed back to him.

if he can help other monsters be accepted. the same will be true for him, one day

and this just has me like--?? this is really the 'Laconic Tortured Soul Who Believes He's Unworthy of Love' trope done right

normally, these types of male protags (written by male writers) are 'lovable scamps' who take all of their issues w/ society & their sad backstory out on their love interests and/or the members of their 'found family' in ways that come off as self-centered and downright mean-spirited. and the narrative just excuses it bc meEN aRe NoT ALlOwEd tO FEeL eMoTioNs dontcha know? so here's our attempt at deconstructing that by giving u a protag who uses the ppl in his life like burnt out receptacles in his trashfire of toxic masculinity and repression.

and Geralt is such a great counter argument to that trope. here we have this certified fresh ass badass Your Dad Calls Me Daddy superpowered monster killer, but whose first instinct is, paradoxically, empathy, compassion, and conciliation. why? because he’s been there, Is There, constantly being spat at, mistrusted, betrayed, and shunned. He’s so fucking lonely and starved of person-to-person connections he talks to his horse, and when he has actual people to talk to, people who want to get to know him and be around him when he’s so used to being shot down and turned away, that it’s all so out of his norm it’s all he can do to respond with grunts and monosyllables and bland matter of factness BECAUSE THAT’S WHAT HE KNOWS. But it’s not to be cruel, he’s just not used to people liking him enough to engage him in friendly conversation.

and like, yeah, it’s funny to joke abt Geralt’s memetic laconicism but this is one of my other favorite things about him: that he IS so quiet and humble about his work that his whole I’m Here to Redeem schtick flies under the radar for most characters in universe and many audience members as well. And that’s just?? I feel like in a different show this type of character would have a bunch of award-baity monologues about the world being rotten and cruel to make it even easier to buy into the narrative’s obfuscation of this character’s heart of gold, or they’d play the trope dead straight + have Geralt’s story be one abt redemption vis a vis his love interest and child mcguffin. Or, script would go another route and play the Messianic Monster here to teach white peop--I mean, humans--not to be racist anymore so that the audience couldn’t possibly miss his heart of gold and pacifistic message.

instead, we get Geralt, neither sinner nor saint but doing his best to do the most amount of good he can wherever his travels take him to make the world a little less awful and a little more compassionate. he asks for little, takes even less (seriously, do any of the villages he save actually pay him?), and barely talks. He’s bad with people but doesn’t want to be. His sharpness, when it comes out, isn’t meant to drive others away; it comes as a result of chronic insomnia and social isolation, not from a need to hurt others the way he’s been hurt. he’s not here to lash out at the world for throwing him away. He’s a bit cynical and bitter, as battle scarred social outcasts are wont to be, but his actions belying the stalwart hope for a better, kinder world outshine all that. And it’s done quietly.

people might roll their eyes at this but I really don’t think Geralt gets enough credit for the amount of depth there is to him, the very specific way he defies so many fantasy protag tropes.

#geralt of rivia #did jaskier right this. i went too hard i think #i wanted to say more abt geralt being a portrayal of mentally ill male characters w/o invoking toxic masculinity coping mechanisms #but this went on too long #the witcher netflix #the witcher #the witcher meta

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itsclydebitches · 4 years

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RWBY team impact anon. Thank you for answering my asks! I did want to follow up with one quick question. Does RWBY actually represent anyone? Nobody appointed/elected them. Blake is a princess bc she's Ghira's kid and that's it. IW has a commissioned duty. RWBY doesn't seem to have a legal right to make decisions for Solitas...let alone withhold information from IW that could impact the continent's defense. I'm confused why these kids are the protagonists? Has CRBWY done enough to justify that?

Of course! :D

I touched on this briefly many months back and as far as I can tell, no, the show hasn’t done a particularly good job of answering that question: Why are these people our protagonists? What gives them the power to get involved? Usually stories—particularly fantasy stories—provide clear-cut answers so that we can best immerse ourselves in this situation, rather than continually questioning why this group, out of all groups, is the one we get to follow. The two most common explanations are:

This group has to fight whether they want to or not. Meaning, some outside force is exerting control over them. They’re stuck in the center of this fight whether they like it or not and thus we, in turn, are stuck with them as our protagonists. Think Harry Potter with a prophecy hanging over his head. Luke being born as a Skywalker. Geralt forced into a witcher’s life with a destiny to juggle. These characters are all bound to something larger than themselves and are, to one extent or another, carried along on the current of that. They have to fight. (“Have” — often overcoming the internal conflict of whether they’ll agree to this unwanted responsibility adds to their heroism. They COULD just run for the hills like Ozpin with his cabin, but they won’t).

RWBY, however, undermines this sort of setup at every turn. Our characters continually reject responsibilities that may have led them to being a part of other fights—Blake leaves the White Fang despite her parentage and life-long involvement in it, Weiss walks about from the SDC despite being born as an heir and wanting to improve the company—and the closest thing we get to fate is with Ruby’s silver eyes. However, that was likewise undermined when Maria came onto the scene. Rather than presenting us with a world where silver eyes are either unique or rare enough that Ruby feels compelled to fight Salem even if she doesn’t otherwise want to, they gave us a character with the same skill, even more talent (if Maria’s moniker as The Grimm Reaper is any indication) who then said no thanks. She left. Bowed out. So what’s stopping Ruby from doing the same? Nothing. She could pull a Maria and be done with this nonsense and the world would continue surviving as it has for over a thousand years (with the exception of Salem’s new involvement, but again, we don’t see Ruby deciding to fight because Salem is now a more active threat). Ruby is not at the center of the world’s safety and there is no other outside force acting on the group to a point where the audience feels that their involvement in the fight is unquestionably necessary. We might have gotten that if the story had spent more time developing Ruby’s silver eyes. We might have gotten that if the story had spent more time establishing that if Ruby were to bow out, she and her friends would still be endlessly hunted by Salem (AKA, if she wants any kind of life, Salem has to be defeated first). We might have gotten that if the silver eyes/other talents were presented as lynchpins, etc. As it is, RWBY keeps providing examples of how heroes can leave, do leave, have every reason to leave, because they’re not the most talented, their powers are not unique, not necessary, there is nothing in the universe saying YOU have to be a part of this fight... so why are they?

This leaves us with heroes who fight because it’s the right thing to do. Think Frodo saying he’ll take the ring to Mordor. Katniss stepping in to save her sister. Peter Quill yelling that he’s going to try to save the universe because he’s one of the assholes who lives in it. There’s nothing like destiny, a prophecy, or an inborn talent forcing (“forcing”) the hero to step up, they just do it because it’s the right thing to do and/or they realize that no one is able or willing to help. They and others might both assume they’re not be the best for the job (insert theme of underestimating Hobbits here), but they’re doing it anyway. They’re all that’s available.

Similar to the above, Ruby could fit really well into this setup. She’s just a kid, she’s talented but she’s barely trained, she knows nothing about magic or this intricate war... surely there’s someone better to take her place? But Ruby wants to help people, which means she’s poised to step up if that’s required of her... but RWBY failed to create those circumstances. Ozpin is not an inept or corrupt leader who she must replace — he created a time of peace and kept the relics safe for who knows how long. Ruby does not live in a world where others refuse to step up — she’s surrounded by talented fighters who are already involved in this war. Ruby doesn’t even live in a world where she fights alongside these more talented and informed fighters — by the end of each volume she’s replaced them as the “real” hero. When someone asks, “Why is the screw up group of convicts trying to save the world in Guardians of the Galaxy?” the answer is, “Because no one else is doing it. The world has to take what it gets.” With RWBY it’s, “Why is the group of second year students, traumatized from a recent battle, going off to find a Maiden they definitely can’t beat?” and the answer is, “Because... they want to? There are other older, more powerful, more informed people dealing with this situation already but Ruby’s group is going off regardless.” “Why is RWBYJNR at the center of this fight now? Have they proven themselves some way? Is there no one else?” “Well no, not exactly. They just showed up at Ozpin’s safehouse expecting to be involved, they definitely provided much needed support at the Haven battle, but then they created circumstances where they were at the center of things regardless of whether others approved of that: stealing Ozpin’s secrets, driving him off, lying to Ironwood, etc.” Then, because the story hasn’t successfully laid out why they have to fight or why others would want them to fight (they often don’t), we get the plot turning in on itself to explain their continued involvement. Like refusing to grapple with their recent behavior. Or having them suddenly able to beat the Ace Ops.

RWBY’s underlying reasoning for why this group is at the center of this plot is “Because they’re the protagonists” which is a circular explanation. You should craft protagonists that have a reason to be involved, not ignore the lack of a reason for the generic protagonists you’ve got. And don’t get me wrong, RWBY has lots and lots of nods towards various reasons, but they’re never well developed. Things like Ruby’s eyes, her “I want to help people,” the others’ devotion to her, the villains’ interest in them... they’re all the beginnings of compelling explanations, but RWBY never does much of anything with it, largely because we haven’t gotten enough of a look into the group’s personal motivations. Why is Ruby so compelled to throw herself into a war? Because of her mom? That’s never said. Why is Jaune? Because Cinder killed Pyrrha? Then why isn’t he trying to hunt her down? Why is Yang? Because she’s Ruby’s sister? Give us better motivation for Ruby then. And so on and so forth. This is particularly important post the lore episode because the group learned about Salem’s immortality and came to the unanimous conclusion that this war was impossible to win. So why are you still in it?? Volume 6 and 7 should have been an exploration of why they’re fighting, what they’re fighting for, and what they can bring to the table. Instead they happily ignore all of it until Salem and her subordinates get right in their face, then Ruby took control of the situation despite the story failing to establish why she wants to, let alone why she should.

When we have characters like Ironwood and the Ace Ops trying to stop her and the takeaway is supposed to be “Omg how could they stand against Ruby they’re evil!” ... I just find myself agreeing. Ruby is a teenager. Ruby has one year of formal training. Ruby has thus far rejected or screwed over everyone she’s allied herself with (outside of the group who has agreed to follow her). Ruby has a very useful skill, but does incredibly little to learn about it or train it. Regarding the question, “Should Ruby be the hero we follow?” we’re shown a number of things that give a resounding “No.” She’s the protagonist because her name is in the title, not RWBY has convincingly written a world where her help is necessary or, at this point, even desired. She runs off to nearly get kidnapped, orchestrates an attack on the Argus military that results in a Leviathan grimm showing up, emotionally cripples the world’s oldest defender, undermines and betrays his replacement, and is now risking two relics/a Maiden by hanging around to fight Salem head on. At this point it doesn’t matter how pure her intentions are, Ruby’s actions have been inconvenient at best and downright damaging at worst. Though they clearly don’t intend it, RT is closer to writing antagonists then protagonists. Outside of their pure “We want to help people” outlook, we’ve got this group shouldering their way into this war and, more often than not, making things a whole lot worse. If the story had done a better job of explaining their involvement, such mistakes would be quiet sympathetic, but as it is their insistence on getting involved reads more as arrogance rather than resignation/drive: I have to help. There’s no one else. I’m needed.

#rwby #mymetas

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mothbug · 4 years

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maggie i’ve been trying to suss out the plot of ur bug lesbians for so long please tell me abt them. somehow it got into my head that they were?? like jaeger pilots? please confirm or deny

i can’t do a read more on mobile so i’m sorry in advance (coming back here after i’ve written this: it makes no sense. it’s all rambling. sorry. and i just put things everywhere randomly so this won’t even be typed chronologically)

yeah there’s giant fun robots! most of them are normal and fine but like a few of them are very fucked up

so there’s four pov characters and at the start of the story three of them are on the same ship and the fourth is the target they’re chasing? only one of them knows they even HAVE a target and is trying her best to stall because she and the target were roommates in fucked up robot catholic school. the other two are playing crazy 8s and being romantic and also terrified all the time but also doing a lot of theorizing about things because they know SOMETHING is up they just don’t know what’s going on. Bc you know. their commander won’t give them any information. and also avoids them because she hates narrative parallelism

also the one stalling is also having her blood drunk by her giant robot. and maybe being mildly possessed by it? so it’s maybe The most fucked up robot. it’s also a giant dog and a good boy. and an heirloom of a fucked up family. which may explain some stuff but honestly i think nisa’s mom was just a bitch and it didn’t have anything to do with the robot she’s just like that.

and she’s stalling bc she Knows she won’t turn perovskia in she knows she wouldn’t let her get hurt she Knows it’ll change her life forever if she finds her and she’s just not ready to face that. but yknow she has to so it was all just very silly of her but when something will change your life dramatically it’s terrifying even if you know that things currently Suck.

somewhere in here Arkansas’s family is threatened and it’s. upsetting. and i’m not sure what direction to go in with it but it will be important because her family means a Lot to her. she has two very good kind dads and a little sister named Tinsel. basically she has the only functional biological family out of all the characters and they make me :’) I also think they eventually meet Idabel and ADORE her and since she grew up without parents it’s just a very strange and emotional experience and. h. they r Wives. and the Trust family is all very sweet and kind even if Arkansas struggles a lot w gifted kid syndrome like i think her dads did their best even if they fucked up sometimes yknow. idabel goes fucking wild at the arcade like legitimately bloodthirsty and arkansas is just like i love my furious and powerful wife

anyway there’s some (a lot of) homoerotic space fighting (which perovskia usually wins BECAUSE she remembers when she and nisa used to spar and can predict what she’ll do. nisa ALSO remembers this bc. ofc she does. but perovskia had to learn how to adapt after Events bc her physical health changed a lot and she had to learn to be more careful about overexerting herself and also now knows how to swordfight. and moves more fluidly and confidently. so what nisa expects to happen often doesn’t bc perovskia’s fighting style has changed so much while nisa hasn’t really bothered to refine hers. anyway) perovskia (the gay little target that does a gay little crime and makes fun of you to piss you off) is like hey. what if you all committed treason it’s really fun and sexy. and then her adoptive mechanic mom gives everyone spinal surgery so their bodies don’t shut down and they won’t die :) that’s a thing by the way i won’t elaborate bc uhh :( but it is why perovskia has all the. nerve damage and chronic pain. i can elaborate on the actual Pre-story perovskia stuff later bc i think about it A Lot and it has a lot of bearing on her character but it’s also. before all this. but anyway if she hadn’t been bleeding out on Slice’s front lawn specifically she Would be dead. and there’s some fun narrative foil character shifts that happen four years before the main storyline but i will not say bc i’m tired

after this is Vague in my mind but a lot of it is Perovskia and Nisa reconnecting and just. talking. but being weird and repressed and deflective about anything Meaningful. And I have written a Lot about this so there’s more than I can condense but it’s very fucking good and. Idk. it’s a big shift in the narrative at this point and they’re just Agonizing about their dumb little feelings and it’s good. and P doing some work to make their giant fucking spaceship more stealthy. and Idabel and Arkansas being really cute and also going THROUGH it because i mean. a lot is happening. And it’s nothing either of them ever expected to happen but they’re like. hopeful for the future or whatever don’t look at me. It’s just like. put all of these characters on a spaceship in the middle of nowhere in transit and they all Have to have conversations even if they don’t want to because it’s HARD. nisa is forced by slice to learn how to make pancakes

Slice makes stew. They’re good at stew and contraptions and having a mild new england accent somehow. also canonically back in the scrapyard they would make things like the knife wielding tentacle constantly and perovskia would just stumble upon them. slice changed the live laugh love sign to say die cry hate because perovskia made fun of it. they r her mom.

so now they do some fun fun robberies and various crimes and it’s so sexy and i don’t think N and P are like. fully caught up at this point or know where they stand, so there’s a lot of very fun banter and having to work together despite really being afraid but also yearning to get to know each other again and just connect with one another honestly and openly after four fuckin years apart. because they’re both so different now but also very much the same. horse staring out into sea MAN. the thing is there’s no direct like. reason for them to avoid each other (at first P was shocked and overwhelmed and felt a little bit betrayed when she found out who was chasing her until she found out WHY. oh i forgot to mention Nisa BEGGED to be assigned commander for this mission bc she knew anyone else wouldn’t hesitate to get Perovskia killed. Forgot to mention that it’s IMPORTANT she fucking loves her so much god DAMMIT) but it’s just. tense and there’s a lot happening and it’s just. Ghhhdhbnm and ofc I and A have picked up on it since P showed up but it’s like. ok so what is Happening here. OH AND ONCE THEY START WORKING THINGS OUT IDABEL DOES START BEHAVING LIKE NISA’S SHITTY LITTLE SIBLING AND ACTING FUCKING DISGUSTED BY THEM ITS VERY FUNNY. they’re like perovskia you’re pretty cool what’s up with this. nisa sucks and also is a bitch. and perovskia says SHE CAN GET IT. and idabel says GET WHAT? BANNED FROM OLIVE GARDEN? and perovskia fans herself and is like yeah~ and idabel was just joking around but now is debating between mercilessly making fun of her and hitting her with a cricket bat. but god when P and N just get to hold each other in silence and security and just be. it’s . they. god. fuck. man.

oh i know this is a space story but perovskia just straight up has a sword (and some knives and maybe a gun idk) don’t ask me why idk but it’s very lesbian of her and she does gay little flourishes and is just. very annoying and i like her a lot. she’s very dramatic like her alias was madame revenant when she was living in the scrapyard and just doing some petty crimes like. she embroidered that jacket herself nobody calls her that she’s just a goofball. also warrior cats exist and she makes warrior cat fan animations. that just has to be true so warriors has been preserved for centuries. also she was presumed dead for a while uhh don’t think abt it too much but she likes that aesthetic.

Idabel takes the best to this new life of crime they are fucking FOR it she gets a FLAMETHROWER and Arkansas is like. wrow honestly my favorite thing abt them is that they’re both fucking INCREDIBLE pilots. like they know what they’re doing. and nisa is really really bad at it btw she cannot pilot a mech well. but this block of text isn’t about her i’m talking about THEM. Their chemistry is so good they r just. 🥺. and they both become Fast friends with perovskia because she’s just pretty likeable?? and ofc nisa’s jealous bc a) you guys don’t even like me :( but also b) that’s MY friend. it’s very funny. honey of course they didn’t like you you were being very unpleasant to be around. but arkansas does rlly wanna be friends with her and she and idabel have so much sibling energy it’s insane. i think they’d abel and cain each other for a scooby snack but also kill for each other. because they’re tiny girls who will growl at you solidarity and also probably hang out and just destroy things with bats sometimes. they all become closer and get a rlly sweet found family dynamic it just takes a While. oh also idabel is basically the chosen one and can set things on fire with her hands but it’s barely touched on because i think that’s a really funny thing to just ignore. but i also think it does become important because it’s largely fueled by anger and emotion and. h. i think idabel has a lot of feelings ok. Arkansas and Perovskia bond over having fucking anxiety disorders and have caprisun drinking competitions. i think it’s just like. these people all have similar trauma and need people to lean on when things are hard so they stick with each other once they have the option to split apart because by then they’re friends and work well together and Care. auto tuned baby crying mp3.

Alia and Agent Variety show up somewhere around here? They’re Slice’s very cool wives and Alia has a Vechicle Collection and own fucking stupid race cars and stuff and I love her. perovskia is afraid of being in vechiles so she has to take a fucking benadryl every time they have to make a getaway. Variety isn’t actually an Agent anymore and I also love HER because she’s very fucking good. they started out as just contacts slice had but it turns out they’re all in love <3 alia is also actually a sports car racer like. unprofessionally. illegally. which is just very cool of them.

Also i don’t think it has. a very BIG end, yknow? it’s like, they’re doing very good things and are up against a lot, and I don’t think they like.. singlehandedly take down the government or anything because they’re only a few people. but i think they get a happy ending and get to grow old while making positive changes to the world around them. like i don’t think they’ll be able to solve everything but they’re sure as hell gonna do what they can. But idk maybe they actually do get like. some good shit done. but again they’re not. an army. they’re a bunch of 20-somethings and their rube-goldberg-machine-creating chaperone. but i think they should get a fun climactic moment so i guess this is all to say i don’t. have an ending planned. but there should probably be one at some point.

OH AND the giant evil blood sucking dog vineyard vines robot Definitely almost kills Nisa (or at least fully destroys her in some way) and. it’s very narrowly avoided and she’s very very weak for a while because it took a lot out of her. also the dog robot does make grape vines grow and uhhhh any grapes that show up are 100% full of the pilot’s siphoned blood. also i think there’s still some remnants of that bitch in nisa’s mind afterwards bc an old mechanical god is hard to get rid of. but it’s mostly ok.

Also the bug people are just. a thing. like every person in the most recent generation in this specific society are at least a little bit genetically experimented on because. it sucks there. and i think if your parents bribe the government you can be a little Less fucked up but yknow. everyone’s a little weird. this was an excuse to put bug ppl in here they’re just the folks who were probably the most fucked with and i have many bug people here because i think bugs are cool and i want them to look like weird little bugs. This was all also an excuse to give the main characters fangs bc i’m gay. i don’t think randomly fucking with your genetics will make you a bug in real life so do not try this at home or at all PSA

SPEAKING of the society ok it’s very much obsessed with earth nostalgia and stuff and very yknow. basic cyperpunk shitty capitalism you know the drill you’ve seen space operas whatever but it’s also weirdly oligarchical? and like? it’s weird and bad and kind of a corporatocracy?? and. fuck. idk man they’re a fucked up space catgirl greeble-y amazon with catholic imagery. The Academy is also a thing but. idk how to describe it more than i already have it’s just kinda shitty boarding school. And after a certain point ppl can get sent on like. missions and stuff? in their fucking robots? but again i’m not sure what For. an option could be that there’s nearby Shit and nobody can tell if it’s safe because space is weird? also it’s only about 3200 so i’d say like. whole societies out in space is a relatively new thing and there’s some weird shit going on. so they sometimes send teenagers out in robots to see what’s up and that ends SUPER well for EVERYONE. hmm something SHOULD be going on actually there should be some weird eldritch space stuff. it should be connected to the more fucked up robots. it should also be Core’s fault somehow because uhhh capitalism and lack of foresight? anyway here’s women kissing i don’t know things. WAIT FUCK I FORGOT TO MENTION HOW SHADY SOME OF THE STUFF GOING ON IS LIKE THE DEATHS OF THE CREW PEROVSKIA WAS ON UHHH JUST TRUST ME DUDE like they are NOT afraid to get kids killed which was IMPLIED but also like it goes a little deeper than that and uhh i don’t know exactly what’s happening. but i’m sure it’ll all fall into place eventually. basically it’s very fatt shitty faction vibes idk how else to describe it. man it‘s like. just. there’s stuff happening they have goals and ideals and there’s probably more to it than i know so far bc stuff happens but i don’t KNOW what i’m tired and have been typing this for a year i don’t want to talk abt the bad capitalists i want to talk about tenderness and girls but unfortunately the ways in which the girls are tender are deeply informed by the environment they grew up in so i do have to think about it even if they all deserved better.

i think they all get a cat or a dog or something eventually. like they all deserve it. i think the final home they build together is actually pretty reminiscent of the scrapyard house. i think they get to live there for the rest of their lives and. just build something small and wonderful for themselves :’)

also i forgot to put men in the story they exist i just forgot about them. there’s nisa’s one ex i already forgot his name but he’s mentioned i think.

#IM SO SORRY FOR HOW INCOMPREHENSIBLE THIS IS I DONT HAVEA PLOT I HAVE CONCEPTS #ocs #long post #LONG FUCKING POST I CAN’T STRESS THIS ENOUGH #death ment #body horror cw #maybe #catholicism ment #again just to be safe #injury ment #possession tw

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moody-bloosh · 4 years

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congratz on finishing finals! (◕ᴗ◕✿) 💝💝 can i request either a continuation of the prosciutto yandere cheating or cheating prosciutto trying to win his girl back? 💝💝

Anonymous said: hello! i would like some angst if u dont mind! Prosciutto cheats on his s/o who’s also a part of la squadra then s/o leave the team

Thank you! I’m proud to tell you all that I finished strong and I got myself that 3.8

hope you two don’t mind that i combined your requests bc mmm they were both so spicy uwu

Anyway, now it’s time to suffer so please enjoy this angst

watering dead flowers (Prosciutto)

The letter you turn over to Risotto is written with a hasty hand, so different from your usual, easy, free flowing script. It is damp, he notes, as he takes it from your shaking hands. He tells you to stay and to please sit.

“You don’t have to go this far.”

You blink in surprise at Risotto’s choice of words. The way he was looking at you as if he wanted you to at least, reconsider. His words manage to give you pause.

By leaving, you would not only be turning your back on Prosciutto. You would be turning your back on the whole gang. Certainly, this gave you some cause to reconsider just the slightest bit. You would miss them all bitterly. But was that enough to tide over the waves of heartbreak you were still drowning in?

You mull over Risotto’s words for a second, you really do. But when you stepped into his office, you had already made your mind and you vowed to yourself that you would not take no for an answer. No matter how convincing the capo could have been.

“For a good chunk of my life, everything I did was for him, for his sake,” you explained as you slowly stood up, without his leave.

Yes, you could not let your resolve waver. Though your voice was hoarse and your eyes were red from all of your crying last night, you managed to plaster on a smile. Because even though it was difficult, even though it was painful, you wanted to start off your new beginning on the right foot.

“This time, I want to do something for myself.”

Without waiting for your former capo’s response, you bowed and thanked him for everything, then you promptly escorted yourself out.

You see him, leaning by the door on your way out, trying to look carefully nonchalant as he lights a cigarette. Normally, you would snatch those things from him, you’d been trying to get him to drop the habit but now you could care less about him.

Still, your pulse quickens as you step closer to him, you fear that he will hear the traitorous, erratic beating of your heart as you come closer. You fear that if you were to look into his eyes, your resolve would crumble. So you avert your gaze, you train your eyes on the door in front of you.

He doesn’t say anything, just takes a long drag of his cigarette as you leave.

Even though you should be used to it, his silence hurt. You remind yourself that this was nothing new.

When the door slams behind him, Prosciutto finally exhales. Walking through the cigarette smoke, he finds a position by the window where he can observe you unnoticed. He stands there for a few seconds, the sight of you driving away imprinted into his mind, before he finally leaves.

Thank God you hadn’t noticed your suitcase hidden behind him.

Truthfully, he had considered slashing the tires of your car. But that would have been too obvious and it wouldn’t have done anything good for him in the long run. Stealing your luggage, important things of yours meant that you were guaranteed to come back for it. You would have to ask him very nicely to return your things and when you did, he would certainly find a way to get win you back.

In the privacy of his own room, he opens your suitcase and selects some choice fabrics. Your favorite scarf, a cherished sweater, a beloved shirt, and he tucks them all way somewhere. That way, even then, you would have to keep coming back to him. Petty, pathetic, but this was all he could do.

That night, he holds your sweaters close and he breathes in your scent. You would come back and he would do everything in his power to win you over again.

He can hear your voice now, soft and sweet.

“Goodnight, darling. I love you.”

It has been a month since you’d left and you showed no signs of caring about the whereabouts of your missing luggage. The fact that his plan failed soured his mood immensely. The fact you would rather deal with the loss of your precious clothes than see him again felt like an earth-shattering punch to his gut.

There was a foul look on his face as he sat beside Pesci in the restaurant with the rest of the team. He had not even touched his food, too busy concocting another plan to win you over.

He couldn’t - no, he wouldn’t let it end like this.

Enjoying his teammate’s distress and intent on further annoying Prosciutto, a roguish look settled on Formaggio’s face as his tone betrayed something mischievous, “since _____ is free now, maybe I should have done what I wanted to do all those years ago…”

“Manners, Formaggio,” Illuso snickers, “remember the 3 month rule, we still have 2 more months before _____ is officially free.”

“Whatever, it’s not like Prosciutto minds, after all-“ Formaggio’s words trailing off as he acknowledged the downright murderous look in his teammate’s eyes, “heh, what’s with that scary look, huh, Prosciutto? I’m right, aren’t I?”

Pointedly ignoring the way Prosciutto’s jaw clenched, Formaggio persisted in his goading.

“If you like something, you gotta hold onto it, right? I mean, if you’re going to be mad at someone-“

“Enough,” Risotto cut in, annoyed. “Not another word about this.”

“I was only joking,” Formaggio said, shrugging haphazardly.

Whatever fucked up sense of humor Formaggio wanted to impart were lost on Prosciutto as he stormed out of the restaurant. His fists clenched so tightly, he was drawing blood from the soft of his palms. Formaggio’s words had more of an effect on him than he wanted to admit. But perhaps, he had already admitted more than he would have like when he made his swift exit.

That damned Formaggio.

He knew it well. He was the one who messed it all up. If you were to seek your happiness elsewhere, with someone else, he had no right to complain.

Already images of you with his teammate filtered through his mind, xxpressions that would have only been for him, a voice only he had been allowed to hear once, if they were to be witnessed by someone else…

He slams the door of his car with a little more force than necessary and rests his head on the steering wheel. It was not supposed to be like this. He was presumptuous enough to think that by the end of the month he would have you in his arms again.

Even though he knows that he lost the right to call you his long ago. When he had let go of your hand and foolishly expected you to stay put like a dumb little doll, blind to his infidelity.

He knows well, how shameless it is of him to have expected you to stay, how selfish it was for him to want you back after how terribly he treated you.

“I loved you wholeheartedly, Prosciutto. That’s why I have no regrets now.”

Yes, you were right. Because regretting was his job.

He brings down the visor, so he could pore over the photograph of you he’d tucked away in there. The photo of the two of you, smiling as you held each other, blissfully unaware of the sad future awaiting the two of you. His heart aches, as he runs his fingers over the photograph, trying to remember how it felt to hold you, how it felt to touch you.

He understands now what he must do if he wants you back.

You knew sooner or later that he would show his face around your apartment. You were just thankful that he had taken his sweet time. You’d known that it was him the moment you pulled up to the curb and saw his car parked two blocks away. Did he think you wouldn’t recognize it? Just like the day you left, he was leaning against the door of your apartment. He was smoking, though once he caught sight of you, he quickly put it out.

“_____.”

“Spare me the dramatics,” you sighed, pushing past him. “It’s been a long day and I’m tired.”

“Wait,” he said, grabbing your hand to keep you from leaving. You catch the almost imperceptible tremble in his lips, the way his eyes flicker with an emotion you don’t want to understand. The sight of it is almost enough to make you pause.

“Please,” his voice is barely above a whisper, “hear me out.”

You scoff, so was this how he intended to win you back? By throwing away his precious pride? Interesting. If this was how he was going to play then you were going to milk this for all it was worth.

“Why should I? Don’t you have other people to attend to?”

“I know I hurt you, I know what I did can’t be forgiven.”

“If you know this, then why are you here?”

“Because I love you.”

The audacity of his words. You couldn’t help but let your mask of indifference drop. Hearing his foolish reasoning, you try to pull away from his grasp. His touch suddenly felt disgusting to you.

How dare he?

After making you suffer through his affairs, spending your nights sobbing as you questioned why you weren’t enough, why he took it upon himself to seek another’s company. He’d come to this realization only now? Really, you didn’t know what you were expecting. But it certainly wasn’t this.

“Even now, you want to lie to my face,” you hissed, “how shameless can you be?”

He held onto you tightly. He let you go once, he wasn’t going to do so again.

“Please, give me another chance.”

“Fuck you.”

“Fine, then look me in the eyes and tell me that you don’t want to see me ever again.”

“Fine,” you huff in agreement, finally extricating yourself from his touch. You were going to shove him off of you too for good measure, surely that would knock him down a peg or two.

It was easy. All you would have to do was hurt him, hurt him and make him feel a fraction of what he did to you. It would be so easy.

Look him dead in the eye and say it.

Say it.

“I…” I don’t ever want to see you again. I hate you.

When you looked into his eyes, those beautiful eyes of his that you’d spent countless afternoons getting lost in, you found that the words you wanted to use against him falling flat and useless on your tongue. Your bottom lip trembled as you gazed in his eyes, silently cursing your heart and your memories for betraying you at such a crucial time.

Really, really.

Why did he have to make it so difficult?

Your shoulders slumped as you hands came to rest upon his chest, unable to really push him away from you though you desperately wanted to. So instead, you pound on his chest, a futile attempt at hurting him. All the while you call him names, ‘asshole, bastard, cheater, I hate you.’ Before you know it, before you inch away from his touch again, his hands wrap around your wrists.

“A good man would let you go,” he said, holding you close enough that his breath tickled your ear, “but there’s just one problem with that, _____.”

A pause as you look up at him, your teary eyes meeting his icy blue ones.

“I’m not a good man.”

And then his lips are on you, greedily drinking in what little affection for him you have left. You try to push away from him though you know it is futile. You’re trapped once more in his web.

Your tears fall in earnest, just as your lips part. His touch is featherlight as he gently wipes away your tears.

“Please, let me make it up to you,” he begs.

I would spend the rest of my life making it up to you.

“You need to be careful with me,” you warn him bitterly. “I’m not easy. I’ll leave you if I get even the slightest notion that you’re cheating on me again. And I won’t care even if you grovel.”

“I understand.”

You looked up at him again, your eyes still watery as you considered the way he was looking at you. Really, he was so unfair. But then, you were the fool who was sincerely considering on giving him a second chance again.

“You’ll have to earn my trust again,” you tell him. “And I won’t make it easy for you.”

“I don’t expect you to.”

Tentatively, he let go of your wrists in favor of snaking his arms around your waist. You do not protest, finding yourself leaning into his touch. He sighs as he holds you tight in his arms.

“I missed you.”

You take a moment to compose yourself, before you find yourself hesitantly hugging him back.

“I…missed you too.”

Oh, you missed him. You really did. But you couldn’t get rid of the feeling that there was something you were missing.

Ah.

“I want my suitcase back too, you asshole.”

#prosciutto #prosciutto x reader #cheating!prosciutto #la squadra #la squadra di esecuzione #vento aureo #golden wind #play #side a

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