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youryanderedaddy · 3 years ago

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Love Fuel

Summary: You were Jason’s first love before you broke his heart and rejected him. It’s all your fault that he can’t move on.

Tw: female reader, obsessive behavior, incel behavior, nice guy behavior, self - hatred, threats of non-con, implied non - con, implied masturbation, bullying based on appearance (not reader), deregatory language, kidnapping, misogyny, generalizations, stalking

this is a hot mess but its 1 am and i am tired, ik that incels are bad irl (obviously), but this is fiction and I kinda wanted to explore the dynamic and shit.

Everyone used to call him JJ or The-Big-Jay back in high school. Well, most of the time his classmates weren’t really calling out to him or even talking to him, the names were whispered behind his back, after he had just passed the hallway, or on bad days - right to his face. The jocks, these dumb motherfuckers, would beat him up, mock him for whatever stupid reasons they had chosen to use as an excuse to torment the smaller and weaker. The popular girls would giggle like brainless bimbos as Kyle or Brad or any other football player stole his glasses or continuously punched him in the guts until he threw up all over the floor. Even the nerds, the kids at the bottom of the school hierarchy, messed with Jason from time to time when they wanted to feel the oh - so desired rush of power they so rarely managed to experience.

Looking back, Jason could see why his classmates hated him so much - he was everything that society deemed as wrong and unattractive. He was thin, pale, “scrawny” as the others called him, on the shorter side, and on top of that the teen was terribly shy and introverted, never having the guts to stand up to his bullies or even tell someone about the abuse. The male spent most of his free time at home, playing hours upon hours of video games, watching anime and reading books he was simply too young to understand or look critically at. As he grew older, the man began to view the world as it trully was - a dark, miserable place that ate up sore losers like him. Men were primitive and foolish, which somehow managed to soften their faults. Women, on the other hand, were calculative and manipulative, greedy and sinful. His whole life they had done nothing but reject him when he needed love and support the most. Of course, there were many other reason why the brunette detested the weaker sex. In his eyes women were evil two - faced sluts, showing off their bodies yet acting innocent and hurt once someone finally decided to use them for the only thing they were actually good for.

But you Jason hated the most. You reminded him that no matter how much he hated the outside world, he would always hate himself the most. He had to admit you were pretty, painfully so, with a perfect little body to match your looks and a sweet sugary smile that almost deceived him years ago. As much as the man regretted his weakness, he had fallen right into your trap at the time.

You weren’t the most popular girl, but you had your fair share of friends, all nice and loyal like puppies. You weren’t the smartest either, but unlike the other stupid giggling sluts you always tried to do your best. You were beautiful just like them but you were actually kind to the pathetic bullied kid no one else bothered to acknowledge even existed outside of being a punching bag. You always asked him whether he was alright and often took him to the infirmary when he looked paler and sicker than usual. You talked to him as if he was a normal human being and despite the initial doubt, Jason appreciated it.

It was the last day of your senior year when the teen finally gained the courage to confess. He was shaking the whole time and by the end of his little speech there were small tears in the corner of his eye. You were the first girl the male cared about, the first one to show him kindness, to offer him friendship without asking for something in return. You were the only one who could make him feel deserving of love, worthy of affection. And then you took it all away in a matter of seconds.

“I am sorry, bud.” You had said that day after giving him a half - hearted hug and an apologetic smile, that started to seem more and more like a mocking grin the longer the teen started at you. “I already have a boyfriend, but I am really flattered. I am sure that you will find a lovely girl once you start college.” You had added quickly, cheerfully, rubbing the salt all over his wounds, honey dripping from your plump red lips. He had wanted to kiss them, bruise them, bite them until your stupid lying mouth was filled with blood. Obviously you didn’t have a boyfriend or he would have known by now, he stalked your social media religiously after all. Even if you had one, he probably treated you like shit. And how could you even suggest him finding another woman? As if he wanted any of the stupid money - grabbing sluts out there. As if some of them could replace you.

The boy was too furious to form a proper response besides “Fuck you, bitch��. His cheeks turned red and he didn’t realise that the bitter words had escaped his lips before he could stop them, then his legs took him far away from that shithole of a school. He didn’t manage to see your reaction before running away but it didn’t matter anymore. You were just like the others.

***

That day Jason swore to show you just how small and insignificant you had made him feel. He wanted to see you crumble, cry and beg for forgiveness, desperate for his love but never good enough to get it. The man formed a plan to change himself and come back for you once he had erased each and every trace of his past. The brunette came to terms with his terrible social anxiety and decided that he needed to gain social abilities more than anything. That’s why, as much as he dreamt of working from home as a boring programmer with an even more boring, but flexible working schelude, the male chose to study something that involved a lot more human interactions. The next step was to hit the gym for the first time and get a monthly subscription. It wasn’t hard to see that females nowadays liked brain - dead athletes with defined jawline and cheekbones, toned chests and strong muscled bodies, so if he wanted to impress you, he had to look his best. It wasn’t easy at first - it felt like everyone in the fitness salon had their eyes on his weak frame, laughing and pointing their fingers at his imperfections, but things gradually got better as time went on. The trainings became easier to get through and from time to time they even helped the man forget about his loneliness and nihilism.

Jason soon returned to his old habbit of spending hours looking through your accounts - Facebook, Instagram, Twitter, he knew all of your usernames, each post, every picture and text. He couldn’t believe how much of a desperate attention whore you had become over the years. The male remembered you in your long brown skirts, cozy sweatshirts and pure-white shirts, all the gray buttons closed to the very top, blushing, laughing, smiling like the adorable Goody-two-shoes you were. Now you were smirking seductively in every photo, overconfident and vibrant, flaunting your tits for every man to see and wearing tight little dresses that barelly covered your ass combined with heels so high and sharp they could be used as a weapon. You were such a stupid slut it was disgusting, and he couldn’t stop himself from jerking off every single time he saw your pretty little face on the screen. He wanted to cum down your throat so badly it was ridiculous, and even after knowing that you had probably already had hundreds of cocks shoved deep inside your pussy, the brunette still wished to see you split open on his, taking his lenght like a good little cocksleeve.

***

The moment when he could see you again finally came. How many years had passed since graduation - five, ten, fifthteen? It hardly mattered. Jason was successful, at last. The male had his own business that was doing surprisingly well, there were some guys from the gym he could call friends and the best thing, he looked absolutely unrecognizable. There was nothing left of the tiny scrawny kid with quiet voice that everyone stepped over, he was now replaced by a strong capable man, determined to get what was rightfully his and his alone.

It wasn’t hard to find you since the brunette knew everything about you - where your job was, what time you finished, how long it took you to go home and what path you took. You lived alone and worked as a barista in a small local cafe even now that you had finished your studies in your dream faculty. Turns out the princess wasn’t so great and smart after all, having to resort to working a minimal - wage job day and night just to be able to pay her rent. Jason was absolutely delighted though, he loved your stupid dead - end job and your endless struggles to survive in the materialistic world honestly and fairly without selling yourself like a common whore. On one hand the male was happy that you had clung onto your last bit of innocence and on the other your pitiful lifestyle gave him the chance to snatch you away much easier. And that’s exactly what he did.

***

You woke up confused just like he had expected, bombarding him with questions, asking him who he was was, begging him to let you go, to at least explain what’s happening. You were so dumb, but God, you were still so pretty, if not prettier than before. You cried so beautifully when Jason told you you belonged to him now and you cried even more when he slammed his cold rough lips over yours in a deep wet kiss. You whimpered and whined while the male sucked on your lower lip and bit down, good, he wanted it to hurt. The stalker couldn’t wait to be inside you, he couldn’t hold back anymore.

He climbed on top of you and pinned your wrists to the floor before tying them up with delicate red rope and tightening it. It wasn’t like the man was scared of you slipping away and hurting him, you were too weak and tiny to stand a chance against his years of power - lifting and muscle - training anyways, he just wanted you to be as uncomfortable and squirmish as possible. Your tormentor wished for you to be in worse pain than he had been during his youthful years, and he knew exactly what to do. Next thing you knew Jason had ripped your dress apart, leaving you vulnerable and exposed in just your plain old panties and bra. Cold shivers ran down your spine when the chilly air hit your naked flesh and you finally realized there wasn’t getting away from this. You had to stay there, limbs bound together, unable to move or fight back, the stranger’s hands caressing your neck before moving dangerously close to your clothed breasts. You felt so sick you were going to throw up for sure if your abductor didn’t step back so you decided to use your last resort.

“Jason, please stop!” You screamed out of the blue, forcing the brunette to freeze instantly at the use of his birth name. You had already called him a pervert and a psycho which didn’t seem to faze him, but the name clearly caught him off guard. This only seemed to prove your theory further - the man really was your former classmate, despite the only similarity between them being the dark distant look in his eyes. “I beg you, don’t hurt me!” You continued, hoping to at least buy yourself more time before the assault took place.

He gulped loudly and stared at your quivering form. The impossible had happened, you had recognized him and now together with fear, there was also pity in your gaze, the one emotion your captor absolutely despised. You used to be the only one who pitied him, and even now that he was bigger, better and stronger than before, you still had the guts to pity him. It drove him insane but any attempt to hurt or touch you was fruitless now - your soft skin was suddenly burning his fingers like hellfire.

“You must be thinking that I am a monster.” Jason started out dryly, chuckling bitterly, humorlessly even. He clenched his fists unconsciously and brought them to the floor in a fit of rage, missing your head by mere inches. Your heart was beating like crazy and you only hoped the mandman couldn’t hear it. “A freak.” The man spat out the word like it was a curse and for a split second his eyes softened before turning into two spinning torches. “Right?” You were sure that if looks could kill, his would have you dead by the end of the night so you quickly nodded your head no.

“You are lying to me again, pretty girl.” The brunette replied feisty, "pretty” rolling off his tongue like an insult. Then he broke into hoarse maniac laugher and lowered his head so his face leveled up with yours, so close you could feel his warm breath on your tear - stained cheek. “When I am done with you, you wouldn’t be so pretty anymore, darling.” Your captor growled and attacked your neck, sinking his teeth deep into the flesh. “You will see exaclty how ugly my love is.”

#yandere #yandere oneshot #male yandere x reader #male yandere #yandere oc #yancore #yandere male x reader #yandere oc x reader #yandere smut #yandere x you

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raidbossmadi · 3 years ago

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No Such Thing as Safe Chpt 1

Time frame: Fallen Kingdom

“You have the wrong person,” Ian insisted as the gag was removed and he tried to get his bearings. It would be easier if he had his glasses, however they had been lost in the initial scuffle that had led to him being brought here in the first place. He still wasn’t quite sure how campus security had managed to fuck up quite this hard but he was sure that they’d be looking for him when his students came back from the 30 minute break and he didn’t.

“Actually, Dr. Malcolm you are exactly who we’ve been looking for,” a light flipped on and Ian realized that he was in one of the campus’ maintenance sheds. His hands tied behind his back around the back of a chair and his legs bound together. The rope around his legs dug into the scar tissue on his bad leg. He could ignore the discomfort for the moment but he knew the longer he stayed bound the more unbearable it would get.

“I apologise for being so rough, but by the time we’re done here I think you’ll understand that it was of the utmost importance that I get a meeting with you,” the owner of the voice stood just on the edge of Ian’s clarity of vision. “But I understand you vet your visitors. I do hope you’ll understand the use of force.”

“Why do you sound so familiar,” Ian asked. The voice didn’t set off any of Ian’s flight or fight responses so they weren’t Biosyn or an academic rival. He shifted his weight the best he could in his current position desperate to relieve some of the tension in his lower calf.

Before he could say anything else the figure approached and gingerly slipped Ian’s glasses back on his face. The man standing before him was only a couple years younger than Ian himself, he had slicked back black hair and was wearing a suit that likely cost more than Ian made in a year. That was when the pieces started to fall into place. An ad he had seen before the evening news came to the front of his mind.

“Allow me to introduce myself, Doctor. My name is Thomas Grey, head of the Extinction Now movement. As I’m sure you’re aware, the volcano on Isla Nublar is due to erupt in a matter of months. Unlike your colleagues you have reason to dislike the animals Ingen created, so let me put this bluntly. We need someone with your level of standing to support extinction now.”

Ian paled. “You do realize that I work for Ingen right?”

“As an independent external contractor. You have no binding ties to the company if my research is correct.”

“So instead you decided to take that literally in this case and give me some, uh, binding ties I see,” Ian squirmed again, the rope bit into his wrists and he hissed. “Anyway your research was wrong. I do have ties to Ingen, namely in the form of my wife.”

Thomas Grey frowned and crossed his arms. “Listen Dr. Malcolm, Extinction Now isn’t looking for your explicit endorsement. We’d just like permission to use some of your findings in our message.”

“Don’t have much of a choice do I,” Ian thought to himself. He was going to need a hot bath after this to soothe the aching in his lower leg that was starting to become unbearable. He thought of Sarah, Ellie, and Alan, how he was going to explain his present condition to them. He supposed he could lie and say one the new students had thought it would be funny to put a foot out in the aisle and pull his cane out from under him, it wouldn’t be the first time that had happened after all.

“Soooo,” Thomas asked expectantly. “What’s your answer?”

“Yeah, ok, whatever. Use my work for whatever you want.”

“See, that wasn’t so hard now was it?”

Ian would disagree, emphatically. However he valued his life and safety more. Without another word exchanged between them Thomas walked back over to Ian and untied the rope that bound him to the chair.

“Your cane is next to the door,” he remarked pointing at it before making his exit through the very same door.

Ian groaned, this was going to be unpleasant. He stood up slowly, putting most of his weight on the chair as he sussed out how to proceed from here. He figured he could handle it like the mornings when he forgot his cane in the bathroom and woke up with a sore leg. He made his way across the room slowly, it felt more like torture than anything else he’d been subjected to for however long that extinction nutjob had him trapped here. As his hand curled around the handle of his cane it felt like an insurmountable obstacle had been overcome.

He pushed open the door and saw that he was in the same hallway as his classroom. The clock in the hallway said it was an hour past his class's end point, so he expected that his student must have assumed he’d left to take care of something.

He walked into the class through his office entrance to find Beverly on the phone.

“No, I don’t know where he was seen last, but he would have told if-” she stopped mid sentence as she looked up. “Uh, nevermind Scott, Dr. Malcolm just walked in.”

She hung up the phone. “Dr. Malcolm, where have you been?”

He held up his free hand, “Don’t worry about it, Beverly. I’m gonna need you to cancel my evening class though.”

Her eyes trailed down as she looked him over with concern. “You’re bleeding.”

He looked down and realized that she was right, a large rosette of blood stained through the dark grey of his pants. It seemed the ropes that had bound him were tight enough to tear open one of the more delicate scars on his calf, that explained why it hurt so badly.

“Please, Dr. Malcolm, have a seat I’ll call the Campus medical team.”

#whumptober2021 #No.1 #Bound #Jurassic Park #Fic #blood tw #My Writing #Edge of Chaos

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plasticflowering · 4 years ago

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A Unifying Theory of Loreography (Lore + Choreography)

(2/3/21) HELLO to all new folks finding this post! It is also now a YouTube Video, and I’m pretty happy with it so if you’d rather get your lore analysis visually please check it out!

Preface: I don’t think it’s just coincidence that we got full choreography for an intro called “Devil is in the detail”, and I’ve made it my mission since 반박불가 dropped to pull apart the threads that might link everything, lore-wise. This morning I believe I had an epiphany about it, so here are my thoughts.

If this flops I will feel my soul exiting my body so please validate me.

Notes: In forming this theory I mostly considered the events of the storyline MVs and teasers as well as the choreography, but a very important part of my epiphanies came when considering the post-MV stingers for TBONTB and 반박불가. It’s using these stingers that I feel like I can better understand the thesis statements in the choreo.

Part One: Now then, where were we?

At the end of TBONTB, the monarchs are approaching monumental, pitch-black gates made of skulls and desperate, reaching hands.

I can’t not interpret this as the gates of Tartarus, considering the Greek mythology in the canon lore already. Tartarus, however, is at the lowest depths of the underworld, and so my interpretation is that, while they reclaimed their souls from the necklace, they awoke physically in a realm beyond the underworld, and now have to make their way out of this psychological nightmare to breathe free the air, as it were. Through Tartarus, through Hell, this is not because I played 80 hours of Hades in the last three months but it might have a little to do with that. Stay with me. (Though if anyone is wondering, YES Leedo would be Zagreus, but that’s not why we’re here today)

Part Two: Devil is in the Detail

What an opening formation. The imagery is not 100% clear to me, but I feel as if this entire opening formation sequence is dual-wielding imagery of a crown (much like the killing part of TBONTB), but also the gates of Tartarus.

Look at this transition once Hwanwoong ascends to the top of the formation, and how the hands all come out, similar to the gates above. I’ll be damned if this is supposed to invoke anything else.

Rewinding a bit, this framing of Seoho being resuscitated and borne by their hands is stunning. Seoho’s journey in the TBONTB choreography merits its own post entirely, because there are a lot of moments that seem to be telling a story for him particularly, and this is just a continuation of that.

Ravn and Leedo being separated for the rap line part seems like an obvious utilitarian choice, and I agree that it is. However, before we prepare to dismiss all “pairings” as serving the progression of the song itself, I have another theory that ties together a lot of the inciting moments of choreo. I promise you this is going to sound like A Reach, but that’s just how my mind works and if you enjoy it I’m glad.

Leedo, Hwanwoong, and Xion are the monarchs who have absolved themselves by the events of 반박불가, and fully reclaimed their souls as well as their conscience. Seoho and Ravn, not so much. They have a lot of work to do to free their conscience - especially Seoho. Oh, lord, especially Seoho. Keonhee is an extremely interesting case, as he seems to have a foot firmly in both sides, More on that later.

For further paranoid conspiracy theorist proof of this, please note that their outfits in the choreography videos symbolically reflect this:

Light, Light, Light/Dark, Dark, Dark/Lightish, Light

If you need more convincing, may I point out that Leedo, Hwanwoong, and Xion are the only members who got those wonderful “all clothed in white” shots in the back half of the 반박불가 MV? I tried to make a gif, and I did make a gif, but Tumblr doesn’t want to post it in this text post.

(you rn)

The most interesting moments of loreography in DiitD are the following:

1. These lotus hands. Again, the imagery, I die!! Keonhee is coming into his own, his character is blooming, expanding his consciousness, going sicko mode with the realization that he has power in the underworld.

2. Directly following this, Seoho offers a hand to Keonhee and literally drags him down (again, the light/dark dichotomy of Keonhee), while the two good good boys Hwanwoong and Xion are back there just trying to maintain balance so they can get through this Hell/Tartarus thing.

3. Good ol’ ONEUS Summoning Circle, but wait this time I think it’s actually meaningful beyond the imagery. Seoho is at the center because he has the vocal line, yeah obviously, but he stays there much longer than is objectively necessary without a formation change. This isn’t common in ONEUS choreography. As much as they love their Summoning Circles, they tend to move on to other formations quickly. This one has meat on its bones, and I think what’s happening here, loreography wise, are the other monarchs banding together in an attempt to save Seoho from the darkness. But Seoho is powerfully dark, y’all, even going so far as to overpower them in the moment above.

4. This is flame imagery. Seoho has been engulfed in flames despite everyone’s best efforts.

5. At the last minute, he gets yeeted via backflip back into Hell/Tartarus

6. Keonhee takes the initiative in going back for him...

7. We’re back in Hell, that’s just great. Thanks, Seoho. You’re lucky we love you and your extremely disturbed conscience.

With this in mind, you can probably get way ahead of me, here.

Part Three: 반박불가

Perhaps not remarkably, the title track doesn’t have nearly as many loreography beats as DiitD. However, we know it’s part of the lore, and this was made abundantly clear simply with that opening move...

This is where we left off TBONTB, but not exactly. There is a slightly different formation of dancers here, which suggests it’s not picking up exactly where TBONTB left off, but rather that this is a cue to let casual fans know, explicitly: yes, this is a continuation of the TBONTB story.

Some moments don’t have choreography allusions, but they are loud in the MV, such as:

- “Youngjo, would you stop playing with flowers, our lead vocalist is going to Hell.” Ravn, who barely scraped out of Hell last time, ostensibly with Leedo’s help according to the rap line break in the choreography, has a rough time of it in the 반박불가 MV, but Hwanwoong isn’t going to let him fall back into toxic behaviors and lose himself to that psychological prison again. Hwanwoong drags Ravn back out of Hell, but not before Ravn successfully makes contact with Seoho. Obviously, Ravn would be the one to make contact, because Ravn’s still a little on edge about his own conscience and can easily backslide if he wants to. Who does he find down there? Seoho.

- Keonhee, who led the charge to return to Hell, is staying on task but seems to be the chief of operations to Hwanwoong’s chief of intelligence here, exercising his newfound sicko mode. Those two are certainly working hardest at keeping the servants of darkness in check down in the depths so they can make a quick break for it.

- Leedo’s actually having a grand time fighting his own demons - or rather, smirking at them and realizing that nah, he’s good. He can use his guilt and regret to motivate him towrd good things now.

- Xion is literally just above all of this and can move between Hell and Earth with ease, so he’s just waiting to see if he has to pull any Fallen God-Prince cards here to save his friends.

Now, for the key loregraphy moments. It’s obvious that 1Million was choreographing for a new direction in the ONEUS style, here, so it’s nearly bereft of the usual lyricism and formations, but they’re definitely there. Unsurprisingly they almost all deal with Seoho.

1. God, this moment whips. They’re all working to free Seoho and lock the gates behind them, with Keonhee giving Seoho one final push. That’s not a normal choreography move. That is storytelling and it sticks out like a beautiful sore thumb with an entire sonnet written on it.

2. With Seoho on lock, now Ravn may break out. He does so rather easily, but it’s not without Hwanwoong’s help. Please notice that Keonhee and Seoho are the two BEHIND him, and what that symbolizes.

3. This fucking bridge. It’s amazing with the loreography. First of all we have Keonhee, and the Summoning Circle is using the same imagery/texture that was formerly used to represent engulfing fire. Uh-oh.

4. Keonhee reaches out...

... but gets dragged under.

5. (excited football commentator voice) but who’s that on the outside making it to the surface, literally with the support of the other monarchs? IT’S SEOHO (cheers)!!

And Seoho finishes things out in the center, as well he should because he got us into this mess.

Part Four: What just happened to Keonhee

I’m so angry at this post-MV stinger. It took me forever to wrap my brain around what is being suggested here, because I thought “hey wait, the red lighting represents darkness/hell, doesn’t it?? DOESN’T IT?? RBW???? I thought we just GOT OUT OF HELL????

So I leave the final interpretation in everyone's individual hands, but the thought that occurred to me today was:

What if this entire scenario was a test of resolve and camaraderie, an illusion, a trick by the Devil (or that donger Helios, whatever). What if Keonhee was the only one who saw through this, and the only one who genuinely made it to Earth at the moment he appeared to have been dragged back to Hell? Because, as we know, Keonhee is a tactical genius, a monarch among the monarchs, and all his visual imagery in the MV suggested a sort of power cabal.

What if he realized that they weren’t all strong enough to face the challenge of breaking this cycle, so he schemed to leave them behind, but leave them safe in the illusion, while he struck out with the power of God and anime on his side.

I... I think Keonhee is about to go kill and dethrone a God, y’all.

#jfc this got long #fun fact the original draft of this had the title a SHORT analysis of etc.#hahahaha nope #v.analysis #v.devil analysis #oneus #no diggity #oneus lore #반박불가 #next up if I'm feeling especially energetic:#an analysis of lion heart and rewind and why they're also lore songs

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solangelover · 4 years ago

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AUctober: Day 2 - Pirates

Mermaid/Pirate AU

For @solangeloweek AUctober and to continue my AU!

Ch 1 | Ch 2 | --

Read on AO3 or FF.Net

A/N: You all loved this fic so much (and tbh I read it back and impressed myself lol), so I’ve been wanting to continue for a while! I had like half of this in MerMay, so I finally finished lol. I have a rough chaptered plan buuuut we’ll see!

Will could practically feel the nervous energy of his fellow shipmates right outside the infirmary door. They all tried looking casual, but he saw many people try to peek in through the tiny door window to get a glimpse of what was going on inside.

After all, no one ever thought they’d meet a mermaid.

Well, merman was the proper term (merboy?), but still. Merpeople existed. They’d seen a lot of crazy things out at sea, but they never actively sought out mythical creatures—those things usually came to them anyway. So, no one was surprised, per say, but everyone was definitely curious.

“Grover, Will,” Captain Percy began as he entered the room. “Talk to me.”

Will was finishing his preliminary check of the merboy—Nico, Will reminded himself—though his limited knowledge of merpeople anatomy and physiology was not enough to fully assess Nico’s condition. Grover had come to help at the captain’s request. He had a way with all kinds of creatures, animal or mythical, though usually the non-humanoid kind. He had not done much so far besides smile, but Nico seemed to be more at ease with significantly less people crowding around him.

“Captain,” Will began, still looking at his clipboard as he finished writing notes down. “I’ve just completed assessing Nico’s condition. I don’t know much about his kind, but Nico agreed to receiving more assistance and that he could help fill in knowledge gaps.”

“Oh!” Percy was pleasantly surprised at the merboy’s cooperation. He looked past Will toward the boy on the cot, no longer cooped up in a cage. He smiled at him, earning him a scowl in return.

Nothing fazed the fearless captain, however, as he addressed the merboy. “That’s great news! I hope our doctor here can heal most of your wounds. He’s pretty good at it.” Percy smirked as he cast his eyes toward his best friend. “I also hope Grover did something helpful. He’s probably the nicest person aboard this ship.”

Grover sputtered at the compliment, spitting out, “I didn’t do anything! I mean—I just—I’m just, here to help.” He rubbed his neck, slightly embarrassed as he smiled bashfully at Nico.

Nico nodded at the human. He did seem kind, in a different way from the golden-haired boy that was helping him. The first boy had darker-colored eyes, though not as dark as Nico’s own. But the second boy, the “doctor,” apparently, had bright eyes—the color of the ocean as light filtered in from above. They seemed to sparkle in the same way, too. That actually comforted Nico the most. Before, he would have lashed out and quickly made his escape back into the sea, just as he’d imagined doing on the other ship. But here, the boy with ocean-blue eyes made him feel… not safe, not yet, but safer than he’s felt in a while.

And, now that Nico was looking at the captain of this new ship, he noticed that his eyes were similar. If the doctor, Will, had eyes blue like the deeper parts of the ocean, the captain’s eyes were the color of shallower areas, with green hues mixed in with the blue. Again, it made him feel safe in a way that the cruel, pale blue eyes of his captor had not.

Still, Nico didn’t plan on staying for long. He believed these humans had good intentions, at least as far as healing him went. But beyond that… Nico wouldn’t stick around to find out what they planned to do with him.

Will was going on to say some things about Nico’s condition that Nico himself didn’t fully understand. While he had always been curious about the human language and hung around ships to understand some things, his vocabulary was limited.

“… Anyway, I think I should keep him here for a few days to be sure he heals up okay.” Nico’s head whipped up to stare at the back of Will’s head. A few days was… more than he had anticipated.

Percy nodded, glancing up when he saw Nico move. The bandages on Will’s arm were noticeable, especially considering that Will himself didn’t get hurt very often. Percy was wary of leaving him alone with the merboy. Though the scumbag they rescued him from was vile and cowardly, he might have had the creature locked up for a reason. But after his initial strike, Nico hadn’t moved to hurt anyone outside of scowling and glaring viciously. Plus, he trusted Will’s judgement.

Percy took a step toward the cot, not venturing too close but showing that he wasn’t afraid of the kid. “Nico, right?” The merboy nodded once. “Nico, I’m truly sorry that you were captured and hurt on that other ship, but on my ship, we’re all friendly. I’m sure you don’t trust us yet, and that’s totally fine and understandable. But please know that we will do whatever we can to help you out. After Will gives the ‘okay’ on your health, we’ll take you where you need to go. Got me?” Percy had no idea if Nico was fluent in their language or not, but he hoped his message got across properly.

Nico sat there for a moment, both surprised and suspicious at the man’s words. He stared into those sea-green eyes, coming to the conclusion that, at least for now, his words were genuine. Nico nodded once more, then cleared his throat. “Thank you,” he sounded out carefully, hoping that was the proper usage.

Percy smiled immediately, big and bright. “Okay!” He turned and clapped Grover and Will on the shoulder. “Will, I’m trusting you to fix up our friend, alright?”

“Aye, captain.”

“Grover, I could use your help relaying our situation to the rest of the crew. Tell Kayla and Austin to come in and give Will a hand as needed.”

“Aye Aye, captain.”

“And Nico,” Percy glanced back over his shoulder before heading out, locking eyes with the merboy once more. “Please be nice to the good doctor. He’s the best we’ve got.” And with that, the two friends stepped out and shut the door behind them.

Will swallowed nervously, glancing at Nico, who was still staring at the closed door. Though Grover had not done much, his presence did ease Will’s nerves and allowed him to focus on assessing Nico’s condition. Now that they were alone, however, Will really had time to process the fact that he was here, with a mermaid, acting as his healer. He just shook his head. What a life I have, is all he could think.

He cleared his throat, effectively gaining Nico’s attention as he whipped back towards him, dark eyes boring into Will’s own. “Um, so, your condition is… not great,” he began oh so eloquently. Nico nodded seriously anyway. “You appear to be malnourished, physically injured though not critically, and sleep-deprived. Um,” he glanced nervously at the merboy’s tail. “I also think you’re probably dehydrated if merpeople need more water than humans to survive. The overall condition of your tail doesn’t seem good, though obviously I don’t exactly have a frame of reference for that.”

Will waited as Nico processed his words. His understanding of English was pretty amazing since it obviously was not his native language, but he probably didn’t get to practice it much.

Nico spoke up, voice a bit rough due to disuse and dehydration. “I understand,” he said. “You are correct. My tail should be… lighter? Less… dark.” His face twisted in confusion, and maybe a bit of frustration, at his limited vocabulary.

The doctor hummed as he tried to understand what Nico meant. “Do you mean shiny? Like,” he tapped his chin in thought. “Kind of how the ocean looks when sunlight hits it?”

“Yes!” Nico exclaimed. He wasn’t quite smiling yet, but his eyes lit up at learning a new word. “Shiny,” he said experimentally, tasting the word on his tongue. Will did his best to tamp down his own grin at how pleased Nico looked in this moment.

“Okay,” Will said, making a note on his clipboard. “So, with all of that, I think it’s best if you stay with us for at least three days. There’s a lot of healing that needs to be done for me to feel comfortable sending you home. Octavian really did a number on you.” He frowned down at his notes, upset at how awfully his cousin treated this poor merboy. It was almost amazing that he could become even more disgraceful in Will’s eyes than he already was.

Nico took note of the way Will looked angry when discussing his treatment on the other ship. He did not think the anger was directed at him since Will had been nothing but helpful the entire time he had been here. But he couldn’t quite grasp why Will seemed so upset on Nico’s behalf. They didn’t even know each other—they weren’t even of the same species! Yet, somehow, the way that both the captain and doctor of this ship seemed to care for Nico’s wellbeing brought him a bit of comfort. Not that he trusted them—yet—but he knew genuine actions when he saw them.

Even with all of that, though…

“Three days?” Will’s head snapped up at Nico’s voice, like he had been lost in thought previously. “Is that needed? I can heal on my own.”

The blonde took in the stubborn pout that graced his patient’s face. On the other crew members, Will would have been annoyed. But with Nico… well, he couldn’t help but think it was kind of cute. “Three days is the minimum.” Cute or no, Will always drew the line at someone’s health. “Really, I’d rather keep you for longer, just in terms of your wellbeing. However,” his eyes softened, “I also want to be able to get you home as soon as possible. I’m not sure how long you’ve been away, but I’m sure you must at least miss being in the water.”

Nico glanced away from the kind eyes of the healer. He had not been home in some time, not just due to his capture. But that wasn’t for this human to know.

The merboy didn’t know what to say, but luckily, Will continued on. “So, if it’s okay with you, I would like to keep watch over you for three days to monitor your health so that you can make a full recovery. Is this acceptable?” He desperately hoped that Nico could trust him enough for that to happen. Honestly, the fact that Nico hadn’t put up much of a fight aside from the very beginning shocked Will completely. Perhaps Nico had had good experiences with humans prior to Octavian. That would explain his knowledge of the English language.

Will was also bursting with questions about Nico’s species, which he hoped to get answered over the course of the three days. Because how could he not?

After what felt like an hour of silence, Nico finally seemed to find what he was looking for in Will’s eyes. He nodded, more to himself than the doctor, and said, “Okay, I agree. One condition.” Nico pointed to the door without taking his eyes off Will. “Keep this door locked.”

“What?” Will cocked his head to the side in confusion. That’s probably the opposite of what he would have expected the merboy to want.

“Locked,” he said again, like Will didn’t understand. “I do not think you will harm me. But I do not know the other humans.”

Ah, that makes sense and is actually pretty smart thinking, Will thought as he nodded in understanding. “Understood. I’ll clear that with Percy and make sure it is always locked. I can leave a key in here as well, if that makes you more comfortable. I don’t want you to feel,” caged, he nearly said, “held against your will.”

This earned Will a tiny smile and a nod, which he counted as a major win for the day. “Okay then. That’s settled, so let’s continue on…”

A/N: I’m going to cut this here. Next chapter will be the next day, or day one of the three days. (Who knows when that’ll be up—)

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yeslahrt · 3 years ago

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Commission Details & TOS

The prices indicated on my commission sheet are base prices for the examples shown on the graphic. Here is more information to help clear up any additional question you may have. Once I am commissioned, it will be assumed that you have read through the information below!

WHAT I WILL DRAW:

Animals! I can draw a variety of animals and would love to have more practice to expand on my portfolio.

Mythical animals! I will do my best to illustrate your fantasy animal.

Monsters! I will take a stab at drawing your weird creature and make it look awesome.

D&D characters! Anthros! If it has a skeleton, I will do my best to draw what you want.

Yes, I am open to drawing sensual illustrations per my taste.

WHAT I WILL NOT DRAW:

I am still working on gaining more experience with using perspective, therefore I will not draw mech. One day, though.

I do not have the experience to draw gore.

I do not have the experience to draw chibis.

No, I will not draw pron for you.

WHAT TO EXPECT...

INQUIRIES & ORDERS: All clients should tell me everything that I need for your quote. If the client is too vague, I may not be able to accurately portray the character in the same fashion as you would like. (See below for info regarding references). Once we are ready to move forward, you will receive an invoice at the PayPal email you provide me.

I will not start working on your commission until the invoice is paid. If the invoice is not paid within 72 hours, I will send a confirmation of cancellation of your commission and discard your project. You will then have to wait until I have slots available again.

Repeated offenders will be denied service and potentially banned from my services.

Responsibility of following copyright notices and laws will fall solely on the client. Please do your own research and due diligence when commissioning licensed characters that do not belong to you. *

WHAT I NEED FROM YOU:

PayPal Email: (Please note that I only take USDs.)

Commercial or Personal Use? (If commercial, please explain.)

Printed and Framed? (Yes, I can have your illustration printed, framed, and sent to you for additional costs.)

Type of Illustration: (Please tell me what to illustrate for you. IE: Icon, extra small (XSm) portrait, regular portrait, half body, full body, etc.)

Do you want flat color for your illustration? (+$10 for regular portraits, +$15 for half body, +$20 for full body illustrations)

Do you want full color and shading? (+$30 for regular portraits, +$40 for half body, +$50 for full body illustrations)

More characters? Additional characters per illustration START at half cost as a base idea, but prices will vary depending on your commission and how much added work it will be.

Quick Personality: (Used to get a sense of the character I will be illustrating.)

Extra additions? (Do you want them smiling? Crying? Serious? What do you want them doing, if applicable?)

Do you have references? (If yes, I will ask you to email them to my business account. Do not send them to me via Tumblr.)

REFERENCE GUIDELINES

Please send me pictures of your character(s) for reference! Things to consider: potential hairstyles, outfits, color palettes, preferred skin tone, other illustrations of your character that you commissioned from other artists, etc. Anything to better help me portray your character correctly is good.

I also need a few words about their personality for setting a mood for your character. This should be no more than three sentences max.

If you have a pose in mind, please reference the pose. Otherwise I will take artistic freedom with the rough sketch.

WARNING: Do not send me a link to your toyhouse or website where I have to get the references myself. Otherwise you risk your inquiry being rejected.

Yes, I am okay with clients sharing a google folder of references specific to your commission with me.

WiPs & WORK PROCESS

You, the client, will receive periodic WiPs of the initial rough sketch that will lay down the foundation of your commission. This is the time for you to tell me if there are any major concerns or adjustments that should be made to avoid incurring additional work fees.

You will eventually be asked to confirm the rough sketch before I begin working on finalizing the line work and illustration. Once confirmed, minor details can be requested to be altered and changed, but the main part of the illustration will not be altered without incurring additional fees.

Once the line work has been finalized, I will begin working on adding flat colors. I strongly recommend you to send me color palettes if you are very particular, otherwise I will take artistic freedom with the illustration. You will again be sent a WiP to make any color corrections. If any of the flat colors are off, this is the time to tell me before I finish your commission with the final shading.

POST PERIOD OF REVISION: I will make minor alterations within reason after the first 72 hours of completion. Any changes that require me to go back and rework the line art, which will lead to me fixing colors/shading, (ex: a different outfit) you will incur an additional 50% - 75% of the original commission cost.

PLEASE BE ADVISED: If you are having me design your character for the first time and your thought process is exceptionally particular concerning your character, you may incur an additional 30% conceptual design fee for the additional time I will spend with you to make the actualization of your character the best it can be.

DELIVERY OF COMMISSION: I will send you an email with a link to your finished commission (usually via Google drive). Unless you have specifically requested for a printed and framed bundle, there will be no physical product or merchandise exchange.

WHAT ABOUT DEADLINES?

The client is more than welcome to suggest a date that they may need the commission to be completed by. Depending on the type of turnaround you are requesting, you will be charged a rush fee of 35 - 50% of the original cost of the commission.

Otherwise the commission will be done in the order received and you may be given a rough estimate of when the work should be started. The completion of the project will take between 1 week and 2 months, give or take, once you have been notified that the work has started.

ART SCHEDULE & SOCIAL MEDIA

Please be aware that I hold a job outside of social media. I sadly do not have a set schedule for my job. I find my creative drive spontaneous throughout the day, therefore I do not have a predictable drawing schedule. If you wish to watch me draw, then you can find the link in my bio to follow me.

Sadly, because of Tumblr's algorithms of hiding/shadow banning posts, I cannot add a link to it here for your convenience. All I can say is if you have the ITCH to watch me draw, you know where to find me, if ya' catch my drift? 'Eh? 'Eh?

ADDITIONAL FEES

If you, the client, are requesting thorough concept art of your character, which include reference sheets alongside of an illustration, I will ask for an additional fee for the service I will provide when spending extra time making sure that your new character is just right and providing a character reference sheet.

As a rule, I always add my watermark to a small portion of every commission that will not hinder your view of the work. If you wish to have a file without my watermark, please expect an additional fee added to your commission price. Personal use only.

If you wish for a high-quality illustration for printing, please expect an additional 50% minimum fee added to your commission. Personal use only.

The print-and-frame bundle will incur additional costs and time. Please contact me for more details.

CANCELLATIONS AND REFUNDS

Every client has the right to cancel their commission any time before I START work on their commission. Other refunds may be issued based on client relation, otherwise all payments are non-refundable once I have started work on your commission.

I also reserve the right to cancel your commission for any reason, for which you will see a refund if you have paid.

HOWEVER: If I terminate your commission due to the harassment of myself or my followers on social media, racially charged behavior or hate speech, threats of violence, obsessive or otherwise disturbing behavior... YOU WILL NOT GET A REFUND REGARDLESS OF THE STATUS OF YOUR COMMISSION.

I reserve the right to refuse your inquiry and/or commission for any reason I feel necessary. If I refuse your commission inquiry, please do not inquire about said commission again in the future.

— TERMS OF SERVICE —

MY RIGHTS — My right as an artist grants ownership of the copyright of my artwork. I do not however claim ownership of a client’s character or ownership of characters from television shows, movies, games, books, etc. In addition, I control the display and exhibition of my work, and the distribution of the work. Clients and/or followers cannot:

Re-post my work without my written consent.

Use my work for their Wattpad novel colors.

Upload my work on other social media platforms without my written consent.

Claim my work as their own, even if it's a commissioned piece.

Use my work with the intention to redistribute, promote themselves, generate revenue off of my work, or take away from my bottom line. I am a business owner and my artwork is my brand.

PERSONAL USE TERMS — As default, all commissions will be assumed that they are for the client’s personal use and enjoyment. Any intention to use my work in any way that may promote you, generate revenue, or that will redistribute my work will require a commercial user license.

COMMERCIAL USE TERMS — If you would like to commission artwork from me in a way that will promote you, generate revenue, or that will redistribute my work, (such as, and not limited to: promotional material, merchandise, raffles, giveaways, indie games) will require you to sign an official agreement. Commercial based commissions have different fees. Once signed, my illustrations will not include any watermarks and will come to you with a high-quality resolution. This will not allow you to change, edit, or repurpose my illustrations and I will ask you to credit me for my work in some form. You are required to clearly state if your commission will be used commercially.

Extended License — This license is an agreement that will grant the client full ownership of your commissioned artwork. You will receive my work with no watermarks, at a high-quality resolution, and you will be able to edit, change, repurpose, redistribute the product at your leisure with no credit to me as the artist is so desired.

Licenses are not eligible for discounts. Non-negotiable.

Again, responsibility of following copyright notices and laws will fall solely on the client. Please do your own research and due diligence when commissioning licensed characters that do not belong to you.

— DISTRIBUTION OF INFORMATION —

I acknowledge that I sometimes collect sensitive information from my clients. You have a right to privacy. I do not collect, sell, or otherwise give out your personal information. Your inquiries and orders are confidential unless I feel a reasonable threat is being made and/or must report such information to the authorities.

If the client requests that I do not display their commission in my online portfolio, I will respect that request to the best of my abilities. However please understand that I reserve the right to print and display my artwork for my physical portfolio and that your request will not extend to my physical gallery unless other arrangements have been made.

#commissions #commission info #commission sheet #commission tos #tos #terms of service

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iplierhybrids · 3 years ago

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Favoritism

A rough story / This one’s a little old

Part 1

Mark and Jack are Felix’s hybrids, but Felix has a tendancy to overlook Mark’s trauma in favor of Jack.

" . . . Felix? Can I . . . Can I have a cookie too?" Mark asked shyly as he watched his owner putting groceries away. The hybrid stared at his fidgeting fingers as he waited on Felix's reply.

"Hmm? A cookie? Yeah sure, there's some in the cabinet over there," he pointed to the tall pantry next to the wall.

Beaming Mark quickly thanked him and scurried over to grab the treat. There were a couple different kinds, but Mark knew which one he wanted. Felix has just recently started buying a type of sugar cookie Mark had only seen in stores. They looked and smelled so good with their thick layer of colored frosting and perfectly shaped cookie. A box of the cookies with pink frosting and red sprinkles sat unopened in the cabinet. Mark grabbed the box and ran a claw through the sticker keeping it closed. He grabbed one and returned the box before making his way to the living room where Jack was.

A cartoon was on the tv, one Mark wasn't familiar with. He munched on his cookie, eyes brightening as it tasted just as good as it looked, and settled down next to Jack who was still eating his cookie. They watched in silence until Jack happened to glance at Mark and the treat he was eating.

"Oh! Felix let you have one of his cookies? What did you do to get him to let you have it?"

Mark startled and as he processed Jack's words, he tried to push down the anxiety that was building in his stomach, "I - I just asked if I could have a cookie. He didn't say anywhere was off limits." Mark didn't know Felix had a cookie preference even though he'd lived here longer than Jack.

"Hm, maybe he doesn't really care anymore," Jack thought aloud. He noticed the queasy look on Mark's face and was quick to comfort him, "It's just one cookie! I'm sure he won't mind. Forget I said anything, let's keep watching the show."

Still feeling unsettled, Mark quickly ate the rest of his treat, hardly tasting it in an effort to not be caught with something that could get him in trouble. After a few minutes of no one yelling his name, Mark relaxed and he and Jack snuggled into a blanket.

He'd nearly forgotten about the whole thing as the show ended and Jack suggested they play. Eager, Mark happily followed Jack upstairs to his room. Jack had more toys to play with and rarely let Mark come in. Something about respecting Jack's boundaries because his old home didn't. As usual Mark and Jack played with stuffed animals and built sets from Legos. They were having fun until Mark crawled under Jack's bed to grab a stray Lego and strayed too close to some of Jack's most important things, memories from his first family. Jack yelled at Mark to leave, suddenly feeling too exposed with someone else in his space. In his rush to get out from under the bed, Mark scratched his back against the metal bed frame. He didn't have time to inspect it as Jack chased him out of his room and slammed the door in his face.

Mark's eyes burned as he stared at the closed door for a moment before hurrying to his room. Felix had told him not to take it personally when Jack got too crowded, but Mark hated the familiar sting of rejection. It was a harsh reminder how hard he had to work, how much of himself he had to hide, for anyone to like him. One mistake could be the end of a relationship or even a home.

In his room, Mark finally allowed a small sob to escape him. He went to his bathroom, wiping his eyes on his sleeves as he went. He wanted to check the scratch that stung on his back and distract himself from how bad he felt. All of his insecurities were so neatly packaged in him until one small thing brought them all to the surface. It was so hard to hide it from Felix and Jack. He just knew if they found out about how much he cried over stupid things Felix would send him back to the shelter.

The mirror revealed a long scratch down his spine where in a few spots, blood beaded to the surface. The initial pain was gone, leaving an ache that Mark could ignore.

Mark sniffled and pulled his shirt back down, avoiding looking at his face in his reflection. He blew his nose and forced himself to stop crying though the occasional hiccup or sniffle would escape. What should he do now? He didn't want to face anyone after crying, embarrassed and upset still. A yawn cut off any other idea he would've had. A nap sounded good right about then. Mark crawled into his bed, burrowing under the covers and rubbing his legs together to get warm quickly. The sun still shone through his window, but under the blanket it was a cozy glow that made Mark smile tiredly. He fell asleep soon after despite the heavy feeling resting in the pit of his stomach.

"Mark. It's time to wake up buddy," a voice whispered in Mark's ear and something warm rested on his shoulder.

His ear twitched in response. Blinking slowly, Mark turned over on his back to see who was there. He was greeted by Felix smiling at him and the warmth on his shoulder moving to his hair to smooth down the out of place strands.

"Rise and shine. It's dinnertime. Come on downstairs before the food gets cold," Felix said softly as he gave Mark's ears a few more rubs.

"'M kay," Mark murmured tiredly, sitting up and noting how the formerly bright sunlight was now an orangey hue as the sun began to set. He stared out of the window before Felix suddenly grabbed him under his arms and pulled him out of bed. Felix snickered as Mark squawked in surprise. As Mark regained his balance though, he smiled too and straightened his legs to catch him on the floor. Felix let him go as he got his footing, moving a hand to his back to guide him to the door, thankfully missing the stinging scratch on his spine.

The smell of warm food wafted in Mark's nose and he felt his mouth water. The dinner table was already set with food on three plates. Jack was already sitting there, fiddling with the edge of a napkin. He brightened as he saw Mark and Felix come downstairs.

"Yay! We can eat now right?" Jack asked excitedly, tail swishing like he was an Inu.

Felix laughed again as he and Mark took their seats, "Yes Jack. Go ahead."

Mark listened to Jack and Felix talk all through dinner, yawning while he ate. He was so tempted to lay his head down and go back to sleep, but Felix had already made a rule about sleeping at the table. As in, they shouldn't. The heavy feeling in his stomach was gone now and with it so was the urge to cry. Feeling light had Mark smiling softly all through the meal.

"Alright you two, listen up," Felix said suddenly as they were all finishing, "Tomorrow I've got to go on a trip to a friend's house. He needs some help with filming for a video. I'll be gone for a couple of days so Jack I'll be taking you to Bob's house to stay and Mark, you'll be here with a house sitter."

Jack quirked his head confused, "Why are we being split up?"

"Bob couldn't take both of you and the house sitter didn't think she could handle two hybrids, so I had to do it this way. I'm sure you'll have fun at Bob's house though if that's what you're worried about Jack!" Felix laughed as he ruffled Jack's hair. Jack let out an indigent noise as he swatted Felix's hand with a snort.

"Do I know the house sitter?" Mark asked quietly.

"No, she's new. Mary and Wade were both too busy to stay here. I did make sure she was qualified to take care of hybrids though. I'm sure you won't even notice she's there."

Mark purred as Felix ran his fingers through his hair. Alright, if Felix was so confident, Mark was sure there was nothing to worry about. How bad could a new sitter be?

#hybrid mark #mark #favoritism #part 1 #rough draft

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flufflebones · 4 years ago

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some more fun hcs about delphine [mc 1.... closest 2 my heart since ive used her in various settings for a While]! it’s a little long so im slapping it under a cut but its all sfw and all very much in good fun.

you know, mostly. i only really got two headcanons down and one is brief/about michael and the other is about pets in the devildom

- can and will fight michael do you think they saw the angel/anni event and were ok with it? yeah? no! just going to kick him hard enough in the shin to....... probably bust their own foot but its FINE

- has an approximate accumulated f*ckton of devildom native and possibly (definitely) magical pets

[The list:

Sosig / Sausage - Hellhound - Gift from Beelzebub!:

A beast of considerable size and [reportedly] god awful temperament, bearing charcoal fur and the lingering [faint] scent of sulphur. More vulpine than canine, their frames are typically gaunt, with the flames that fuel their bodies licking out from the ends of their tails, their ankles and wrists [on their normal quadrupedal legs], the inner portions of their ears [leaving them at a disadvantage when it comes to hearing], their somewhat visible / open ribcage, and the corners of their mouth.

Despite this general introduction, hellhounds are wildly varied and have a number of breeds and variations in recent history, typically intended for one of three purposes.

Companionship - These hellhounds are typically smaller in stature and less sturdy, with a tendency to bond strongly to one or two masters [with some consideration/leeway for those close to their master: See- Cerberus]. Arguably the most docile of any class of hellhound, they are still dangerous if not raised correctly, and have a nasty bite. Though not a true classification and with no formal means of training a hound to do so naturally, some companion hellhounds serve as a psuedo service dog, heavily attuned to the needs and potential problems unique to their primary master. This isn’t to say that they are an alternative to service animals, or anywhere near as well trained, *of course*, but the devildom is hardly the safest place for a regular human realm animal; And sometimes, you’ve just got to work with what you’ve got.

Sport / Show - Typically very much breed standard. While raised to tolerate handling and grooming, these traditionally built hellhounds are temperamental at best and borderline terrifying when their willful nature comes in direct conflict with a demonic handler who bit off more than they can chew. Heavily regulated, and typically owned by the elite.

Protection - The devildom is dangerous, and nobody is questioning that. Demons with a knack for animal handling [or demons who can afford to hire someone skilled with animals, of course!] breed and train these creatures to guard many things; People, places, objects, etc. They’re typically territorial and hard to train as a rule, as one cannot allow for a beast such as this to be tempted by treats or good petting from *anyone*, yfm?

Sausage is a bit of a mixed bag. Born from protective stock and bought by Beelzebub after overhearing Mammon trying to convince Lucifer to get Delphine/my mc a pet [who lays eggs, we’ll get there, that he can sell for a massive profit]. Being the youngest present brother at the time, anything capturing his interest other than food is both welcomed and encouraged in an attempt to positively reinforce him to not put the devildom at risk of a famine.

Delphine unintentionally raised this brick house of a hellhound puppy into a sort of in-between of companion and protector, with him being very social, very sweet, and *fairly* defensive and willful if things aren’t going his way. He’s typically the one to step in most successfully to motivate her to move around [yes, moreso than the brothers!] and do her day to day tasks, and is probably the best way to find out if something’s wrong with her-- Past being able to just kind of drag her off due to their size differential, his general wit and ability to communicate his needs and wants have led to unexpected food deliveries, blankets spread over her shoulders, and human world medicines arriving a few days before she shows any real signs of illness that she can see.

He’s also spoiled as all get out. If you’re sharing a bed/couch/blanket/etc with her, you can bet Sausage is soon to follow. Sorry, Mammon! He loooves table scraps and is almost as bad as Beel when it comes to eating things he shouldn’t [and looking too cute to be scolded about it too heavily].

Rocky - ... That’s just a rock, dude. - Gift from Belphegor:

It’s really hard to tell if Belphegor is messing around when he presents Delphine with a rough hewn black rock bearing two googly eyes, a pair of hilariously out of place crystalized horns, and a pair of similarly out of place crystal wings, but I swear on all things unholy, he’s doing it for a reason.

Though not... Really sentient, initially, Rocky just needs a good, possibly year long charging. Soulstones are sort of... Weird, in that they are inert and lifeless for as long as they remain with the boulders from which they are harvested. but typically-- After being exposed to a single party’s magical runoff and signature for a year or so-- absorb enough energy to come to life, their coloration and mineral makeup adjusting to fit the nature of the being they owe their life to. Delphine’s takes the form of a celestine and blue goldstone peryton; A winged stag. With crystalized wings and antlers, Rocky would almost look majestic; If it weren’t for the fact that the googly eyes have remained a feature that she has never been able to figure out how to remove. Soulstones are typically quiet observers, not requiring active care to thrive but delighting in contact [especially immediately post spell casting or magic use]. They are attuned to the needs of their magic bound masters, and typically exude an air of-- if not positive-- reassurance.

In Delphines Little Canon Divergence Corner, it’s likely that rocky coming into her care is one of the first of many attempts at reconciliation that Belphegor makes with her post chapter 16; And it honestly really, really sets him back, like, even when she returns to the human realm. Forgotten but included in her luggage, it’s a few weeks into her settling down on Earth that she finds the dinky little stone, and an overload of magic-- Possibly emotionally sourced, possibly due to unresolved tension/a discussion that never got to happen because he was being a little jerk about it-- sets off the transformation, which occurs overnight.

She recognizes the little stone figure when it approaches her in the morning, and one of her first texts about it is a simple, succinct “WTF” + an image attachment sent to Belphegor, specifically in the dead of night with the intention to wake him.

Henry “Pogchampion” 6.0, 7.0, and 8.0, A.K.A: “Pip! Minette! Beans!” - Infernal rats - Gift from Leviathan:

A note: If you don’t care for rats or you’re more familiar with their popular association with illness or disease/classification as vermin, and are only capable of thinking of them in that context, I don’t care. I am specifically talking about rats in the context of them being pets-- And good pets, at that. If you want to talk about how much you wish they were dead/didn’t exist, thats not my problem. Just don’t do it on a post discussing them as a pet, or I will block you!

Anyway!

Leviathan is probably the most appropriate person for them to get pet recommendations from, but her asking never winds up a necessity; When he finds out that he’s got another pet enthusiast in the house, he’s *all* about it, and when he finally [very unsubtly] weasels his way into the information he needs, he gets them to come along with him to what’s supposed to be a routine supply trip for Henry that just *CAN’T* be accomplished online. It’s a trip to *a* shop, but not what she’s expecting, especially when she gets to meet a handful of very curious, very playful, larger than a medium sized dog mice and rats. These guys are very much pests turned pets, with a small niche of hobbyists raising them and breeding them for temperament and overall health and disease resistance. Very social and very intelligent, they tend to thrive best in groups if one is not devoting all of their time to them as an individual. The type Leviathan recommends are on the smaller side, with cloudy, soft fur and sweet temperaments. And massive teeth, nubby horns, spade tipped tails, and very large, typically bony or leathery wings.

Levi is... Probably the one who wanted them, really. They get a little big, and tend to like to roughhouse, and they chew like nobody’s business-- And while he can’t risk his figures or merch or other Otaku Trappings or wires for everything in his room, he *CAN* risk Delphine’s. Plus, Sausage needs a friend, right? Or three?

They pick up three, all of whom are sisters, and all of whom on paper are named Henry “Pogchamp”, 6.0, 7.0, and 8.0, since he *is* technically the one paying for them and at least gets to do that much. Even when they start being named Pip, Minette, and Beans, in casual conversation, he can still hold on to the fact that they’ll always be Henries in his heart of hearts.

Sausage loves them to bits, for the record, but their interactions tend to be supervised/very brief even without the worry of him being able to harm any of them due to the general (and very appropriate) ill advisement of large predators interacting with smaller prey animals. It’s cute, sure, but it can be dangerous, and Delphine (and Levi, to a lesser extent, because he’s using the excuse of them being friends to keep Lucifer off of his ass for adding another animal to her menagerie) isn’t about to risk it.

Sweets - .... A black cat? That glitters? - Gift from Satan and Asmodeus:

Small, sleek, and independent, Sweets is probably the pet people see the least of all of Delphine’s little collection-- Though that doesn’t mean she’s not well loved. A pet project between Satan and Asmodeus, Sweets isn’t *technically* a cat; They’re a being comprised of shadow, somewhat similar in nature to a familiar without the connotation of them technically being a demon slash demonic. Who just so happens to have been enchanted to appear like and generally function in their day to day life as a cat. That sparkles, the only concession Satan was willing to grant Asmodeus in return for his help obtaining the materials necessary to create the little beast (and in return for him taking the heat when Lucifer inevitably got pissy about it). Given its unique nature, very little is actually known about the little being of shadow past basic care and assumptions based on its generally feline behavioral patterns. The rats scare the hell out of it, however, and it tends to be out of sight except when called, hiding in shadows and only occasionally emerging on its own.

... Oh, and be careful. Satan hasn’t told Del yet, but it seems that the belly rubs this shadowy kitty offers tend to bite off more than they can chew if they’re not careful. Asmodeus thinks its horrible. Who wants a pet with a massive maw of teeth in their stomach? Satan desperately wants to use this quirk in Sweets’ nature for a prank. Delphine already knows, but is playing dumb for the sake of faking surprise when its formally revealed.

Elysia - Gilded Crow - Gift from Lucifer and Mammon:

SO, i”M going to keep this short because i’ve been writing this for several hours at this point on and off and i really really want to be ready for my dinner when its ready, but!

Elysia is a sort of... Special circumstance. Literally. Devotees to Mammon-- And yes, there *are* people who think he’s a legitimate demon lord, the only people really allowed to treat him like garbage are his brothers and a few choice officials too strong to be eradicated as any lesser demon might have been-- with a background in magical augmentation specifically enchanted this line of crows to reflect that which is most valued by their Lord; Riches. They’re technically not legal due to their status as something of an organic money generator, but a select few in a small flockare kept under the watchful eyes of the Demon Lord and his immediate family, and those who have been trusted by his family members. This is where Lucifer comes in.

Understandably, Mammon is not allowed to have care of his flock, though he certainly wouldn’t be the worst at caring for them. He’d just also be selling their products illegally, and you can’t have that!

Elysia wears a small enchanted band comprised of dull, unimpressive iron-- The kind of thing Mammon would neither notice nor have interest in. This band is enchanted, and serves as a sort of storage space for any of Ely’s dropped organic components. Talons, feathers, eggs-- Everything is automatically absorbed into the band, rendering the bird borderline useless outside of being a gorgeous pet, and a gigantic nuisance.

Lucifer hates to admit it, but he really is a fan of the large, intelligent, gorgeous creature; And Mammon thinks it’s really funny to teach her to take shiny things (like grimm, loose jewelry, gum wrappers, etc), even past the sentimental value of the bird itself and what her kind represents to him.

Delphine adores her, too, and is about as good an influence on her as Mammon is-- Teaching her to speak, in some capacity, simply by repeating certain words or phrases to herself as she does things in the day to day, especially during feeding time. It’s all fun and games, until this pretty golden bird calls Lucifer a ‘motherf*cker’ while she thinks he’s out of the room while visiting with Diavolo for an update on her health.

#long #obey me #obey me mc #obey me mc headcanon #obey me headcanons

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beastars-takes · 5 years ago

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Beastars Chapter 1

Here we go! I’m not sure what the format for this type of thing is but I guess I’m just going to include pages or frames or whatever I want to talk about. That seems to be the way it’s done?

The first thing I want to say here is that the early art in this comic is...bad. By a lot of measures--line quality, anatomy, shading, perspective, consistency, whatever. It’s rough. There are times where the art is actively making the comic worse.

But you know what? I don’t give a shit. I love it. It’s like a shitty old demo tape from my favorite band. And as someone who struggles w/perfectionism, the fact that Paru is just shooting her shot here with this incredibly emotional and vulnerable and crazy comic, with art that’s maybe not ready for prime time? Inspirational.

This is a good example--at times she’s keeping the attacker’s silhouette credibly ambiguous, but we get two panels of a pretty explicitly wolfish profile. She REALLY wants us to think it’s Legosi. This definitely could have been avoided with different staging choices. But, you know. It still rules.

Also, this is very superficial of me, but Tem is ugly as hell in these early chapters. I felt a lot worse for him when she started drawing him all cute. That’s my confession for this chapter.

This page is a perfect example of the best and the worst of the early art, too. That mouth panel? The blood? The staggered panels of emptiness? Fucking awesome.

The cityscape? Pretty terrible.

Special shoutout to this police car for being probably the funniest bad drawing in the whole comic.

Again, though, I’m not being ironic when I say this stuff is inspirational. Who cares how the car looks? This isn’t Initial D. Paru banged the car out on the way to the important stuff.

Coming back to a panel like this on a reread is interesting. I have a hard time imagining, say, Dom being afraid of Shiira. So this raised an eyebrow for me for a second. But also? This is how this type of social division works. You end up on a side whether you want to or not.

Also, I love Dom & Shiira. Sweet responsible big kids. Underrated characters.

Last comment about the art--I think one of the reasons it often looks rough is that Paru doesn’t stay in her comfort zone. A lot of comic artists will do anything to avoid drawing hands or feet (or buildings & cars)...and their work will look polished, but not very expressive.

Paru just fucking goes for it every time. Crane shots? Hands? Electronics? Sure, why not. It doesn’t always turn out great, but this is a huge part of selling the drama and also, I suspect, a huge reason why she’s improved so much in only a few years.

Fearless.

Something really funny about her calling him Legosi-kun while worrying he’s going to murder her. But also, thinking about the conflation of predation w/sexuality and how often women have to be careful even around men within their social circle...maybe not so funny?

I love Els, by the way.

Dude, there’s a murderer out. Your boyfriend will understand. lmao

The first chapter is walking a really difficult tightrope of making you think Legosi is the killer without making him act out of character, and I think there’s a couple of moments (like this one) where he just seems too ridiculously menacing.

I think the anime actually handles this a lot more convincingly, but they had the benefit of hindsight. It’s always easier to do something the second time.

I’m not sure I buy that she couldn’t tell them things were ok between her and Legosi without spilling the beans on Tem. But Legosi loves hurting himself, so I don’t think this is out of character.

#beastars #beastars takes #beastars liveblog

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the-fanaddict · 5 years ago

Note

📺 Trollhunters & 3below

anon gets me

Trollhunters:

9/10 is my objective rating (subjectively it’s 100000/10)

Trollhunters is basically all of my favorite tropes conveniently in one location. Fantasy, Huge worlds, Hero’s Journey, Found Family, Anxiety-Filled Protag, fun filled season 1, darker season 2, etc, etc.

After httyd1, this is probably my favorite piece of media ever.

Initially during season 1, I was a casual watcher. I really got sucked in during the last 3 episodes of season 1, where it upped the stakes and ended on a massive cliffhanger.

I relate to Jim so much, especially his anxiety. Jim is a hero who struggles so much and has so much on his plate. Trollhunters came out while I was in high school and while it’s not an accurate portrayal of high school, it does it better than most shows do. I truly did connect with Jim, especially in the second season.

I think what really also gets me is how much of a cinematic feel this series has (which makes sense considering it was originally going to be a movie). The way it’s animated and the framing and how its story is executed feels so..movie-like. There isn’t much filler and there’s barely a status quo. There is so much heart in it too. There are times where the emotional beats feel very...httyd.

The worldbuilding is so interesting too. I mean it’s Guillermo Del Toro! Fantasy and Lore is his forte! The idea of a trilogy series really caught my attention.

Admittedly there are some flaws, (a rough start is my biggest one, the are nitpicks) but I believe Trollhunters is one of the best series of the decade.

3Below

8.9/10

Some days it’s really hard to tell which I truly like better, Trollhunters or 3Below. I’m more of a fantasy gal and really it’s Jim’s character that makes me like Trollhunters more sometimes.

But 3Below is also a strong series and does a good job expanding the universe even more. I went in doubting how the heck are sci-fi aliens going to fit in this world of fantasy wizards and trolls, but they pulled it off!

I adore the animation. Akiridion-5 is such a fun place to look at. The neon colors look so cool.

I love the immigration aspect of the show. My parents were immigrants and there are so many things I can relate to growing up. When Vex was watching Wheel of Fortune, that’s something my parents did to learn English! The microaggressions Krel kept getting! It’s the small things in the show that I adore.

Aja and Krel feel really genuine as characters. They have a great sibling dynamic and one doesn’t overshadow the other.

Overall, a fun show that I wish was a little longer. I love it for the same reason as Trollhunters, great execution, great animation, relatable characters, and amazing worldbuilding.

#tales of arcadia #trollhunters #3below #it's love toa hours #really tho toa is basically my spiritual successor to httyd #Anonymous

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pi-cat000 · 5 years ago

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Whumptober No. 15 & 16: Scars & Pinned Down

Fandom: Mystery Skulls Animated

Characters: Arthur, Lewis, Mystery

Summary: A year after Lewis returns the gang investigate a strange house. (PART 4)

(PART 1), (PART 2) (PART 3)

NOTE: Kind of follows the prompts but not really. Like, maybe if u squint.

“…Save Vivi.”

For his last words, they’re pretty good. This is Arthur's final coherent thought before the world dissolves in a burst of blinding light. It doesn't hurt. One second he is alive, investigating a case, and the next second he’s not. Simple as that.

Arthur is not quite sure what happens after. All he knows is that, at some point, he gains enough coherency to start noticing the dark nothingness around him. With a growing sense of self, he begins to actively observe his environment. There is nothing to observe, but he still tries.

Eventually, Arthur begins to wonder.

'Is this it?' His question goes unanswered.

Is everything just going to be dark nothing from now on? Is it going to be nothing for the rest of eternity?

It is a rather grim prospect. Was death supposed to be like this? All he has as a frame of reference is Lewis and it’s not like he has ever asked Lewis what dying was like. Their relationship was strained enough as it was. No need to throw fuel on the proverbial and, in Lewis’s case, literal fire.

Maybe he should have asked…Maybe he should have tried harder to reconnect. But, it’d been hard. Some scars took longer to heal than others…like a lot longer. Mutually, he and Lewis had decided to take it slow, understanding that rebuilding their friendship after all the hurt and misunderstanding would be a slow process. In amongst all the healing and finding a new way of existing around each other, they’d started to grow close again. And then Arthur had gone and died like an idiot, leaving both Vivi and Lewis behind.

Well, he hopes he left them behind and they aren’t all dead, floating around in their own personal voids. He really hopes Vivi isn’t dead. He really hopes Lewis is still with her. He desperately wants them to be happy together.

The longer Arthur spends thinking, the greater his want to see them okay and happy becomes. With nothing else to occupy his thoughts, the want soon turns into a need. A burning, desperate need. The need consumes him, eating him inside out. Never has he wanted anything so badly. Not even when he was searching for Lewis and losing night upon night of sleep to nightmares, had he felt this powerfully. Slowly, a pressure builds, growing stronger, feeding into his longing.

Arthur finds that he isn’t as okay with death as he had initially thought.

This can’t be it. He won’t accept it.

Just when Arthur thinks he might collapse into himself, crushed by his unattainable desire like a star going supernova, he explodes outward. The darkness is dispersed, evaporating into a white haze.

....

“What the…Hey…Ah…”

Arthur hears a familiar voice.

“Mystery! Arthur’s star is glowing!”

That’s Lewis. Arthur latches onto the sound, following it further into the light.

“What do I do? You said this would take another week!”

IT’S LEWIS! He still can’t see properly, everything is blurred, but that is definitely Lewis’s voice. Arthur struggles so respond, becoming increasingly frustrated when sound fails to produce itself.

/That was a rough estimation at best. Quick, stand back. /

The second voice is deeper and directionless, coming to Arthur from all angles. Mystery, he recognises, before listening intently for Lewis again.

“Wait! We can’t do this here! Not after we wrecked the last room…/

/There is not much we can do about it, unfortunately. I am sure Vivi will understand./

Vivi? Did Mystery just say Vivi? In a ripple of brilliant light, not unlike the blast which had killed him in the first place, Arthur explodes into being. Instantaneously, he goes from disembodied nothingness to occupying space. Accompanying his materialisation is shockwave of yellow energy. There is the sound of furniture scraping along a wooden floor and the crash of objects falling to the ground. Arthur pays the chaos no mind, twisting around, trying to locate his friend.

“Lewis…” He says, spotting the familiar figure. Lewis is human in appearance, wearing his purple vest and grey pants. He seems surprised, ruffled by the explosion, staring right at Arthur.

Arthur, he doesn’t even notice himself move, appears right in front of Lewis with a barely audible pop of displaced air. Smack, he runs into Lewis, pushing them both back. For that second, knowing that Lewis right here, touching him, is all that matters.

A hand lands on his shoulder, gently inching him back. Arthur can feel the heat of Lewis’s aura and the echo of muted emotion. There is a hit of concern underpinning deeper burning anger which seems to be the source of the heat. He would be afraid, but the anger isn’t directed at him. Weird...but nice...

“You’re okay,” He whispers. His voice is a bit distorted, echoy, but it’s nothing he hasn’t grown used to hearing from Lewis before the ghost had figured out how to change it.

Then his brain catches up to his emotions, and he realises what he may have implied. “I mean, you’re dead, obviously, but you’re here. I’m sorry, I mean, I’m happy you’re still here. I’m not happy you’re dead…ugh...”

Shit. This is a disaster. He tries to step back but can’t because he isn’t actually on the ground. He is floating. Lewis probably hates him all over again! No, that was an overaction. They’d already sorted that stuff out... Why is he having trouble thinking?

“Where Vivi’s?” He asks instead, flailing around, trying to regain his balance. As he asks, he turns to the door. Is Vivi through that door? He needs to see Vivi. He needs to see her right now!

/Stop him!/

Arthur hears Mystery’s order while also registering the fact that he is now standing by the door with Lewis behind him. Did he just teleport? A hand catches his shoulder and Arthur spins, lashing out, disoriented by the change of location.

“Arthur calm down. You’re…”

A wave of that yellow energy forces both him and his assailant, which turns out to be Lewis, away from each other in a violent pulse. Arthur bumps back into the door and Lewis stumbles, floating a few feet up into the air to stop himself from tripping over the bed at the centre of the room.

“Sorry!” He panics, “I’m sorry. I need to find Vivi.”

After spending all that time thinking about seeing Lewis and Vivi, it has become all he wants. Before he makes good on this declaration there is a spark of red and Mystery is no longer dog. All Arthur has time to do is think ‘danger! That’s dangerous!’ and Mystery’s many tailed form is on top of him. The weight of the Kitsune pins him to the floor.

/My apologies Arthur, but it is probably best that you do not go tearing through the middle of town in broad daylight./

“What…no, I won’t…I just need to find Vivi,” He tries to escape, wriggling to get free. However, Mystery’s weight isn’t entirely physical so the effort just leaves him drained.

Lewis, he is a skeleton now with flames burning a radiant purple, drifts forward to examine Arthur. Arthur quietens, gawking. Did Lewis always burn that brightly…The colour is kind of mesmerising.

Lewis gives him a funny look, “What’s wrong with him?”

/New ghosts are erratic with a one-track thought process, as I am sure you know./

/I suggest you find Vivi. Hopefully, seeing the two of you together will calm him down enough so that we might have a rational conversation./

“Yeah, okay…” Lewis, shifts back to human, grimacing. Arthur’s kind of sad to see the flames go.

“She’ll be happy to know he’s up at any rate.”

If you want to know more about this challenge I have an intro here

Completed Prompts: Shaky Hands, Explosion, Delirium, Human Shield, Gunpoint & Dragged away, Isolation, Stab Wound, Unconscious & Shackled, Stitches, ‘Don’t Move,’ Adrenaline, Tear Stained

#whumptober2019 #no.15 #no.16 #scars #pinned down #mystery skulls animated #Lewis pepper #arthur kingsmen #Mystery the dog #losely based on the whumptober prompts #character death #ghost lewis #ghost arthur #writing challenge: whumptober

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hardyimagines · 6 years ago

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Intruder — Part 2

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Hi could would you be interested in writing a Bane fic were he and one or two of his men need to hideout, and they come across this home kinda of hidden away or in an isolated area and a girl lives there on her own. He decides to keep her alive and eventually they fall for each other. I'd also like him to to be kinda mean and dominant. + She has to stay in main room with bane so he can make sure she doesn't escape😉 I'm sensing a smutty imagine. I like my bane a Dom with choking of course. I don't ask for much do I 🤣🤣

Part 1

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A few days came and went. That was the biggest lie you’d ever been told in your life. A few days meant 2, maybe 3. It didn’t mean 26.

They’d been staying with you for almost a month.

Bane was far more protective over you then he’d initially intended on being. He had thought he’d set some ground rules and that would be it. He didn’t expect to be lurking around every corner, watching you tend to laundry and dishes, ensuring that neither Larry or Oscar even dared to stare at you. He felt a constant need to watch, fascinated by something so simple as another human. His eyes danced with sympathy when he saw sadness strike your expression. He felt pangs of guilt, emotions he’d thought had been buried. It made him sick to his stomach. He was a bad guy. That’s how everyone viewed him. He wasn’t suppose to feel regret. And since he did, why didn’t he leave? Well, because then he’d never see you again. And it was so safe here, why leave?

The forks cluttered as you noisily dropped them into the opened wooden drawer. All of the cutlery was messily placed together in that one area, shoved so tightly in the space that it was difficult to shut the drawer. It took a few tries, harsh slams, before it unwillingly closed. You lifted your gaze to the man in the corner, lips twitching upward in the slightest to bid him good morning. You didn’t like Bane. You simply tolerated him. You didn’t have a say on whether or not he should stay or go, you just had to deal with what he chose to do. Your brain pricked and pried at the thumping of your heart, begging to know why it was beating heavily beneath his unwavering stare. You wouldn’t find the answer, not when the reminder of ‘I don’t like Bane’ contradicted the hammering of your artery.

Bane stepped into the room, short fingertips, coated in embedded dirt, tracing the tabletop that had recently been cleaned. He watched the little sway of your hips as you scrubbed at the dishes in the sink. He lied to himself daily, insisting that he didn’t feel anything for you. You were just a hostage. A girl who’s home he needed to use. But the cops were long gone, no longer looking in this area. He’d gone off the radar and he was free to go. But he kept you under the impression that he had to stay.

“Morning.” Your quiet voice greeted. It was so welcoming, like a soft breeze on a hot day, urging him to come out and enjoy the nice weather, only in this case, your tone urged him to venture further into the room. He did. The bottoms of his boots were thick with leather, rough against the tile in the kitchen. He’d never be able to silently approach, for the shoes on his feet sounded like he walked with boulders tied to his ankles.

He let out a hoarse grunt. It was drawn out, more of a drone, as he stepped toward the table further. Coffee mugs were set out, empty and clean, awaiting the beverage that simmered in the corner. Steam rose from the pot, alerting the thirsty occupants in the room that the liquid was hot enough to burn them, but was ready to be ingested. Bane looked toward the pot before looking back toward you as he set himself down on the corner of the table. Why settle for a chair? You looked briefly to his position before rotating around. He scrutinized you, remaining silent as you weaved around his outspread legs in order to tend to the remaining duties. When he’d first arrived, he’d made it clear that you’d never be allowed to be on your own, but within just a few days, he had seen how trusting you were. He’d let his guard down. And so far, that wasn’t a mistake. Granting you your independence meant that you didn’t feel so trapped, you had some amount of freedom. Sleeping was the only time you had no choice of receiving any privacy.

“Where are the others?” He asked suddenly. Your grip on the rag tightened, accidentally wringing the cloth. Water spilt on the floor, droplets of it staining the wood as you stood a few feet away from him. Eyeing the little dribbles, your eyes lifted to his, studying him.

“Outside.” Your answers were always short and sweet. “I think they saw a fox.” Your words made your heart hurt. There was no need to harm an animal, the creatures around here minded their business and because you’d never bothered them, they tended to come close, stealing the leftovers from your opened trash can. What a mistake it had been to leave the bin open that morning. You’d never seen two men move so quickly, laughing like hyenas as they raced after their prey. Your jaw clenched before you resumed cleaning the countertops. “No use in chasing down an innocent pup, Ive got plenty of food.” Bane squinted before looking toward the window. There was no sign of either of them.

“I wouldn’t worry too much,” He spoke, words followed by the rough groaning of the table as it’s legs scraped the floor. He grumbled out before pushing the table back into its original position. “neither of them are too smart — or too quick.” He brushed his finger along the front of his vest before moving toward you. Cleaning seemed to be all you did. And that had only begun once they arrived because bane still vividly remembered the filthy rooms that the home had had when they first arrived. You sent him a light smile of thanks for his attempt at reassurance before stepping around him again. His palm shot forward, ceasing your wrist in his surprisingly tender grip. You looked up at him curiously. Fear wasn’t present in your eyes and it made him want to hit you. Nobody had ever looked at him — a man who wasn’t understood, a man with a mask, with a built body, capable of crushing someone with the fist he had wrapped around your arm — with such sincerity. Why weren’t you scared of him? Those pools of blue ignited with an emotion you weren’t familiar with. “Why do you live up here? All on your own?” You reminded him of himself. Tucked away in a sewer was the same as being on top of a mountain. No distractions, no arguments, no nuisances — apart from his men. Your plump lips pressed together as you pondered his words.

“I like the quiet.” He almost smiled. His heavy, harsh breaths filled the silent room. He didn’t pry further, he sensed that was the best answer he’d be able to get from you. “Why are you on the run from the law?” Your question made him freeze. The hand on your wrist shifted before falling away from you.

“I’m not on the run.” He explained. “I’m simply hiding out while my home is invaded.”

“For a month?” His eyes shot to you. Where did this bravery come from? He was use to your silence.

“For as long as it takes.” His tone was deeper, harsher, a cue for you to be quiet and stop asking so many questions. You did so without much complaint.

The rag in your hand was dropped in the dirty clothes basket beside the counter. Fingertips skimming the handle, you inspected the amount of washing you had to do before with a soft hum, you shut the lid and looked toward the man. He was fixated on staring at the steaming pot of coffee. He eyed the droplets of condensation that raced along the sides of the glass before, when he felt your prying eyes, he looked toward you. The both of you stared at one another, blue eyes latched on to pools of curiosity. He tipped his head to the side, a silent inquiry, but you didn’t speak. Your hand traced the counter as you passed before you dipped out of the room and moved into the den.

Reading was your favorite part of the day. Curled up on the edge of the sofa with your elbow on the arm and your finger twisted around a lock of your hair. Bane would eventually set a glass of lemonade down on the coffee table when he passed, no words exchanged, just a glance before he made his way outside. You were growing to enjoy his company. It wasn’t threatening like it had been when he’d first arrived. You sat, glasses low on the bridge of your nose with a yellow-covered book opened on your lap. It was easy to get lost in the story, absentmindedly drinking the beverage he had grown accustomed to making for you. Not too sweet, not too sour. This was how you stayed for majority of the day, only disappearing into the kitchen when it was time to make dinner.

You were beginning to wonder if you’d been so lonely that this — getting along with intruders — was your only means of happiness.

It was a week later when a fourth intruder showed up. You were stood in the corridor, adjusting the crooked framed that hung on the tan walls. Family didn’t reside in the frames, images of flowers or pretty scenery’s did. You had a habit of fixing what didn’t necessarily need to be fixed. You’d stand in the hall for an hour, adjusting the angle repeatedly until you’d found it in yourself to stop. But today Bane stopped you.

His grip on you was harsh and rough, unrelenting in its secure hold. He shoved you into the bedroom and shut the door loudly. Your words fell on deaf ears, eyes wide and desperate. Demanding to know what the hell he was doing and why he was holding you so aggressively.

“Shut up.” Bane hissed out. His hand lifted to your mouth, covering it swiftly with his palm. You whimpered against his flesh. His skin was rough, dry, but it smelled pleasant. The scent of burning wood filled your nostrils, it was stained in his flesh from all the heavy-lifting he’d been doing earlier that week. “Listen to me.” Their was a hidden warning in his tone. “Listen.” He shook you roughly, noting the faraway look in your eye. “That man,” monster. “will not hesitate to take advantage of you.” Your chest lifted with your shaky inhale. “And damned as I am, I’m nowhere near as bad as he is,” His grip on you slackened in the slightest. “so you’d better learn and learn quick, that you’re going to have to play my little game.” Confusion swam in your gaze, words building in your throat as you prepped yourself to ask for clarification.

“Bane!” A chortle sounded from the opposite side of the door. “Come on out, now, I just wanna see her.” The doorknob rattled beneath the frantic grip of whomever the bloke was on the other side.

“I don’t share.” Bane was much calmer. His eyes were glued to yours as he spoke up. “Let her be, Zander, she’s of no use to you.” You pulled your bottom lip in so you could suckle on it, chest beginning to heave. Your mouth opened again, ready to speak, but Zander beat you to it.

“A hostage is a hostage. That’s shared territory.” The entire door shook again. “Now let me in!” Bane lifted his hand to his face. Tracing the mask that covered his lips, his eyes closed. He doubted you’d pick up on what he was hinting at because of how silly he felt, he was incapable of bluntly saying ‘act like you’re with me’. No matter what though, he wouldn’t let Zander hurt you. He felt oddly attached. Bane shifted slowly before moving his calloused fingers to your soft cheek. He traced the warm surface, eyes gliding between your shimmering orbs. The door flew open, effectively ruining the moment. Zander stepped forward, tongue hungrily tracing his lips which were very much accessible and easy to use — unlike Bane’s. “Come here, darling, I don’t bite.” He snickered loudly.

Bane gripped your hand and drew you into his chest. His eyes warned you to search for some common sense, and once you’d found it, you did all that you could think of to do. Your body lifted, tiptoes steadily supporting your weight. Your hands found the sides of his cheeks and your mouth pressed against his. To tear the thing off and kiss him like you should was too risky. Afterall, nobody knew what would happen. Despite the fact that bane couldn’t feel your lips, he could feel your chest as it pressed to his own. Your shallow breaths and warm fingertips. He hooked his arm around you and held you close to him.

“Now, now.” Zander cut in once more. “Let me have a taste.” Bane drew back sharply, fingers sinking into your lower back.

“Out, Zander. I said, she’s not to be messed with.” The tone of voice made it clear that Bane was being serious. The warmth from his fingertips seeped through the blouse you wore. “Go.” He nudged you gently to the corner. “Sit.” You blindly moved backward, but you kept a close eye on the man in the doorway who hadn’t tore his eyes from your body. You moved to the bed, dropping down on the edge of it before you pressed your knees together and watched the scene unfold.

“Since when do you care about a hostage?” Zander inquired. Undoing the gloves that were laced securely around his wrists, he tucked the leathered material away into the deep pocket of his coat before finally looking toward Bane. Bane was his boss and whatever the man said went, but Zander was known to be disobedient. He loved trouble.

“We don’t hurt women.” Bane ground out. The entire room seemingly shook beneath the force of his footsteps. The lamp in the corner unsteadily wobbled and the stack of books threatened to collapse on the floor. “We don’t even take women. This was accidental. The house was suppose to be empty.”

“But it weren’t.” Zander ushered to you.

You pulled your bottom lip in nervously. Trying to tune the men out was impossible. You were picking up on everything they said. They didn’t typically take women as hostages — and the only reason they’d taken you is because you were inside the house. Your fingers itched, you wanted to bury them in your ears and drown out their deep voices. But that made you look weak and you were far from that. The bed creaked beneath your movements, crumpled comforter tempting to grab ahold of to bite back the nerves in your stomach. You eyed Zander.

Freckles coated his skin. Every inch of his face cradled a brown spot. His nose was covered the most, pointed like a witch’s nose. His eyes were seemingly kind, green and bright, but the deeper you looked, the more deceitful they became. Black locks, sprinkled with speckles of sand from where it looked like he’d been rolling around in the dirt outside. His cheeks held extra fat, chubby opposed to hollow. It was a characteristic most people seemed to have, no sunken, hollow spaces, just a rounded surface. Red hue’s coated his skin which gave him the effect of a blushing schoolboy or a tantrum-throwing toddler. His teeth were missing in various places, snaggled in the places where they still resided. He had long eyelashes, and a scar along one of his eyelids. You were sure he would’ve been rather charming if his personality didn’t absolutely clash with his appearance. Externally he was nice to look at, but his personality made him absolutely hideous. You tore your eyes away from him when he took a step forward. His chest was visible through the shirt he wore, undone down to the middle of his rib cage. More scars could be seen in the gaps of the thin fabric. He looked about 27, as precise as that was, he didn’t look old enough to be 30, and he carried too many bags beneath his eyes and pain in his gaze to be younger.

Bane defensively stepped to the side to halt the man from going any further. Bane. He was at least mid-30’s. His cheeks weren’t chubby, but they weren’t hollow like the movie star’s. He had scars on his back, deep gashes that were deeply embedded in the tough tissue. You’d seen them when he’d removed his shirt for bed — rarely doing so — only when it was a particularly hot night. His scalp was bald. He didn’t ever shave it though, so you assumed it just didn’t grow. His skin, though it appeared rough, was soft. You’d spent countless nights tracing the bulging biceps when you couldn’t sleep. It was absentminded, just little caresses you’d given him because you couldn’t give yourself over to exhaustion. He liked the touches. Goosebumps would rise on his skin, visible and feelable beneath your fingertips. It wasn’t like you were sleeping with him, but you might as well have been. Oscar and Larry thought you were, seeing as bane was far too protective over a hostage.

Mornings were spent on the porch, tucked away on the sturdy swing. It was a long bench, one that held you and bane with no problem. He had a tendency to lay his arms out wide, opened so you could lay against his side with your head on his shoulder and a coffee mug in your hands, cradled to your chest. He protected you from the cool breezes that accompanied the rising sun.

He helped you with gardening. With fixing lunch. With cleaning. He was always a step behind you, lurking and following like a lost puppy. At first, you’d been threatened. You’d felt like you had no space and like the man simply didn’t trust you, but now, it was comforting. He wasn’t doing the tasks because he didn’t want to awkwardly stand, he wanted to be helpful. He wanted to take some of the stress off your shoulders. You didn’t feel like a hostage anymore and that alone scared you more than the fear in your belly at the present moment.

Zander inhaled deeply. The sound was infused with annoyance. He clearly wasn’t going to get to you, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t try. He took a small step backward before narrowing his eyes when bane spoke up again.

“I won’t tell you again to let her be.” He pressed his closed fist against his opened palm, cracking his stiff knuckles. “And if you dare try anything, I promise, I will not hesitate to kill you.” The threat wasn’t empty. Friends made the same threats. Siblings did. Family members, threatening playfully to harm another human with no true intention of following through. Amusement would trickle in the words, alerting whomever one was speaking to that ‘ill kill you’ was another way of saying, ‘seriously, don’t do this’. But bane was serious. The threat was low and heavy. The very words made a shiver run along your spine. It was evident Zander believed him, but you still saw the tint of want in the boy’s gaze. Bane clenched his jaw before watching as the bloke left the room.

His heavy boot kicked the wood shut. It didn’t close perfectly because zander had broken the hinges, but it closed enough. Bane turned around to face you, expression softening and tense body relaxing. He made his way toward you, boots thudding against the carpet quietly before he lowered himself down at your side.

“He won’t mess with you.” Bane was positive.

“You don’t know that.” Your voice shook in the slightest. “He could sneak in when you’re sleeping, or sneak up on me when you’re out.” Bane shook his head lightly.

“That boy isn’t going to mess with you.” He reiterated. “I promise.” His hand found yours, resting on the bed. He gripped it gently, tenderly. Your ears stung with his previous words of this being a ‘little game’, but then, tucked away in private, why was he still touching you? His palm was rough to the touch as he lazily caressed your skin. For such a mean and powerful person, he was tender with you in his own way. Part of you wondered if he just loved ownership and possession, but even if that were the case, you weren’t sure you’d be bothered. He wasn’t treating you bad. Your eyes closed and your body shuffled closer to his own, seeking the comfort he was attempting to offer. His arm opened, ushering you into his chest so he could hold you. The touches were beginning to linger. The confidence was growing stronger. The man was falling for his hostage and you, the hostage, were falling for your kidnapper. He wasn’t holding you captive any longer though. He felt like more of a roommate than an enemy.

—

The house was silent. Some time during the night, Bane had laid back against the mattress and your sleepy body had followed. Tucked away beneath the warmth of the duvet, your body wrapped around his securely. He felt like he had two blankets on top of him instead of just one. His hand rested on your lower back, your leg thrown over his own so you could rest comfortably. The birds outside cawed noisily as they soared above your home, wings flapping as they flew through the night. The wind whistled loudly, shaking the trees so the branches dropped the endless amount of leaves.

Zander was sat on the porch with Oscar, eyes glued to the stars above.

“We’ll have our way with her.” He grumbled out. His words were quiet and slurred because of the alcohol he’d consumed. His bare feet shuffled against the patio, cement drenched in dirt which effectively stained the bottoms of his feet. He looked toward the silent man at his side before shoving his shoulder when he didn’t get any words of encouragement or agreement. Oscar folded his arms.

“You’re on your own, mate. Bane made it clear, she’s not to be touched.” To his left, Larry stood, pocketknife switched open so he could use the blade to pick at the dirt under his fingernails. He looked over his shoulder when he realized what the topic of discussion was. His eyes rolled.

“I’d be careful, Zander.” Larry spoke. “Oscar’s right. We tried to mess with her.” He turned. “And it didn’t turn out so good.” The moonlight illuminated the gash on Larry’s face. Zander hadn’t seen it before, but it was because he hadn’t been given a chance. Now though, the moon’s rays danced along the bloke’s skin. The wound was recently inflicted because it was scabbed and in the process of healing. Zander grunted out in annoyance.

“He’s not doing her.” He shook his head. “He’s just making sure you two ain’t either. I seen the way she was looking at him. Unsure. Ain’t no girl gonna look at a man like that - not unless she’s afraid she i’nt safe.” He set the bottle of liquor down between his ankles before slouching. His knee lazily bounced, head spinning with the various different ways he could have his way with you. They all involved luring Bane away.

Oscar exchanged a look with Larry. They didn’t want any trouble and Zander, well he was nothing but. Oscar lowered his hand to his pocket and pinched the pieces of fruit he’d sliced earlier that day. Popping a piece of Apple past his lips, he munched loudly on the crunchy treat before standing.

“I don’t want no part in this.” He made it clear. “You try anything and it’ll be your body we’re burying.” He stepped over the clutter of empty beer bottles and moved back into the house. He’d learned quickly, after watching the blade in bane’s hand slice his best friend’s face that you were off limits. And he wasn’t going to complain. It was in these moments, when another idiot was present, one with no sense at all, that he realized the error of his ways. Messing with you wouldn’t do him any good. Teaming up with Zander would lead to two dead bodies instead of one. He swallowed thickly before making his way toward the kitchen so he could drop down at the table. He was going to mind his own business.

Larry was hot on his heels. His footsteps weren’t as quiet, they were noisy and flooded the length of the house, no doubt waking the slumbering couple down the hall. He didn’t think the two of you were screwing either, but he didn’t doubt that there was something going on. Lingering touches. Soft caresses. He’d seen the looks the pair of you gave each other. A sense of longing lingered in the kitchen each time the two of you were stood close, but not close enough. He joined Oscar at the table before letting out a loud sigh.

“We gotta get rid of him.” The bloke whispered to Oscar. “He’s gonna cause too much trouble.”

Bane shifted a dramatic amount of times because of the footsteps. His body rolled this way and that, flexed arm tugging you along with him when he found a different position to lay in. You let out a soft sound of discomfort, a quiet whimper to tell him to be still. He heaved a loud huff, a puff of air as he sat up. His arm was still buried beneath you, your head tucked away in the crook of his elbow.

“Be still.” You mumbled out tiredly, hot breaths wafting over his chest. Your hand moved along his stomach, small body wiggling to be closer to his own. Bane peered down at you, breaths noisier because of the silent room and the mask he wore.

“Can’t get comfy.” He told you as softly as he could. He didn’t want to disrupt your sleep, just because he couldn’t figure out how to lay. You opened your eyes. They were so droopy, threatening to flutter shut as you stared up at him. You let out a quiet hum before lazily rolling on to your side, back to him.

“Come here.” He listened without hesitation. The front of his chest molded against your back, arm hooking securely around your waist as he shuffled forward. Spooning was always much nicer for him than it was for you, you had a hard time sleeping stiffly on your side, but you could handle it for tonight. Bane let out a breathy sigh of relief, fingertips tracing your stomach as he thanked you. You let out a quiet hum before gripping his large hand with your own. He fit against you like a missing piece to a puzzle, perfectly joining together when you were pushed into place.

You envisioned him pressing half-asleep kisses against the side of your neck. His lips were full, pink, wet from his constant urge to lick them. You imagined he was a terrific kisser and a constant one.

A little frown etched itself onto your lips and a quiet humph of disappointment left your lips. You squirmed in the slightest before involuntarily whimpering.

“We don’t have to lay like this.” He started, but your grip on him silenced him instantly.

“No.. I’m comfortable.” You assured him. You didn’t speak further, but you could feel the question lingering in the air, though he hadn’t asked yet. ‘Why did you whimper?’ “Bane..” You looked over your shoulder. It didn’t seem right to pry, nor did you even think you should be asking such a question, but in your tired state of mind, you didn’t think much on it. “Did you ever kiss anyone? Before you got that thing on your face.”

He shook his head. His eyes were closed.

“Didn’t you ever want to?” You spoke again.

One of his eyes opened at your question. His hand moved to your lips, fingers pressing against them to silence you before he turned your head back forward and hushed you by holding you tighter. The silence didn’t last before you spoke again.

“I think.. I’d like to kiss you.” Your words made both of his eyes open. He wiggled briefly, an action to express his shyness.

“What on earth are you on about?” He uttered gruffly.

“I’m on about wishing you didn’t have that thing on your face.” The bed creaked as you rolled over to face him. Leaning up on your elbow, you moved your fingertips to the mask and lazily began to trace it. He eyed you in confusion. Not only were your words random, but his brain had never screamed ‘hostage’ louder than it was now. “Does it come off?”

Bane shifted. “I don’t know. I’ve never tried to remove it.” Your fingers brushed along the bottom of it. You wouldnt try to remove it for fear that it would kill him. He clearly wore it for a reason. Your fingers moved away from his mask and instead to his throat. Caressing his jugular, you traced his Adam’s apple before leaning up. Closing the space between the two of you, your mouth pressed against the mask. Your leg, already thrown over one of his thighs, bent so you could lift yourself up and on top of him. He was laid on his back because of all your moving and now, you straddled one of his legs, hands placed on either side of him. He didn’t ask questions, he merely gazed up at you and let you do as you pleased. His leg bent slightly, becoming a perfect seat for you to lower yourself down on. Mix that with the fact that your lips were inching toward his ear and you have a heavily breathing bear laid beneath you. You could tell that your touches made him sensitive. Your mouth grazed his ear, hips lowering so you sat firmly on his thigh.

You sunk your hips down more firmly and against his own before slowly beginning to rock on his thigh. Bane was instantly filled with confusion over how you’d gone from ‘I wish I could kiss you’ to ‘I’ll settle for humping your thigh’, but he didn’t stop you. His wide palm found your hip, cradling it as you began to rock your body in a steady rhythm. Your mouth closed around his ear lobe, gently suckling on the flesh before nipping at it with your teeth. Bane’s eyes fluttered before rolling. The feel of a woman’s lips on his body was foreign. He could barely hold his eyes open.

You rubbed yourself against him harder, teeth clasping down on your cheek as you angled your body perfectly. The action of grinding made the bundle of nerves between your legs extremely sensitive and the longer you gave in to the friction his leg offered, the louder your moans grew and the closer to orgasm you found yourself. Bane was impatient though. He wanted to flip you over and shove himself inside you. He wanted to screw you to the point that you wondered if he hated you. Lost in his thoughts, he briefly lost his self control. His hand curled around your throat and as swiftly as he’d spooned you, he’d flipped you over and pinned you to the bed. You still had the ability to grind against his thigh, only now you had a hand around your throat, squeezing and cradling as he stared down at you with readable eyes. So many emotions waltzed together in those pools. You bit your bottom lip, hands moving to his arms as he let out a low growl. Your vision was growing starry and you didn’t know if it was because you were losing consciousness or because you were nearing orgasm, but you figured it was a little bit of both.

The room around you began to darken and the man on top of you was beginning to groan. You could feel how he adjusted himself, switching his thigh for his crotch so the pair of you could grind against each other instead. He pulled your thighs around his hips and hid his face in your neck. The room around you went black and you felt like you were floating.

—

Sweat. It covered your skin like the man had the night before. You woke under the impression that you had bruises on your throat from his strong grip and achy thighs from how harshly he’d been buried between them. But your throat didn’t hurt and your thighs weren’t sore. You pulled your lips in and looked to the vacant space beside you. The rapid beating of your heart told you that the sex that had taken place had merely been a dream. You didn’t have the courage to climb on top of your captor and grind against him confidently. He hadn’t flipped you over and cradled your throat so firmly, but delicately. He hadn’t pushed himself between your thighs and buried himself inside you like you were craving for him to do now. The skin of your cheeks was hot and the thumping of your heart grew louder. You’d dreamt it up.

“Put him outside.” Bane’s voice filled the hall. “Now. I don’t want her seeing this.” You looked toward the door before slowly, quickly, laying back down. Flipping over and on to your side so your back was to the door, you eyed the wall in confusion. It had felt so real. “Because I said so..” He halted in the hall. “Right. That’s what I thought.” The sound of the door slamming filled your home and then you could hear bane approaching once more.

Larry and Oscar looked to each other before hunching over. Larry had Zander’s feet and Oscar had his shoulders. Blood was spattered along the walls and floor. The bench dripped with the sticky substance. The men hobbled, carrying the lifeless form toward the dirt in the distance. Zander had been murdered, by which bloke, Bane didn’t know, but whichever had done it refused to fess up.

You sleepily rolled over when Bane entered the room, attempting to make it look like you’d just woken. He slowed the second that you came into view. His lips twitched upward, blue eyes meeting your own. Bane was more than aware of the dream you’d had, seeing as you were quite loud in your sleep, but he didn’t say anything about it, he simply moved toward the bed.

“Morning.” He seemed much calmer.

“It is.” You nodded before looking toward the ceiling. “Sleep good?” You spoke up quietly before sitting up on the bed.

“I did,” He nodded before pulling off his vest. “Did you?” His lips twitched. “Thought you might’ve been having a nightmare.” He watched the way your body fidgeted before smirking to himself when you looked to him shyly.

“A nightmare? No.. no, I had a very um.. it was a very nice dream actually.” You stated before climbing off the bed. His hand caught yours, gentle as you passed. He hauled you back and into him before eyeing you intently.

“Sounded like you were in pain. Whimpering all night long.” He didn’t mention that you’d moaned out his name, or that you’d been lazily rocking your body for the entirety of the night. You looked up at him, eyes scanning his. He was clueless, you decided.

“No.. don’t worry. I must’ve been trying to talk and couldn’t get my words out.” Your explanation only made his ego boost significantly. You’d enjoyed what you’d dreamt of.

“Well,” His thumb lifted to your chin. “so long as you’re alright.” He traced your soft flesh before looking to the door. He could’ve teased you all morning, dragging out how you truly felt about your dream, but instead he switched the topic. “Zander is dead.” The words made your body slump. “Don’t know who did it. But woke to the boys standing over him. Could’ve been a wild animal.” It wasn’t. “Or maybe one of them drunkenly stabbed it.” Not drunkenly. “Not sure, but.. we don’t have to worry about him now.” Relief filled you because you didn’t have to stress over looking over your shoulder every five seconds, and then sadness because you had no excuse to kiss and touch Bane. He seemed unbothered which told you all you needed to know. He didn’t feel the same. But the hand he let linger on your face told you differently. It silenced all other thoughts.

“Dead?” You whispered.

“Buried.” He confirmed. His hand fell from your face to your arm. Tracing the length of it, he studied your expression. He had no reason to stay, he realized as he stood in front of you. No reason but because of you. “Oscar and Larry are leaving. I don’t know why or what’s gotten into them, but they made it clear they’re ready to go.” Your brows twitched.

“So you’re going too?” He wasnt sure if your eagerness was out of stress because you wanted him to stay, or if it was a shove for him to get to the exit now.

“No.” He folded his arms then, waiting for your response. “No, they have places to go apart from the sewer. I, on the other hand, do not.” You bit your bottom lip and tried to contain the second wave of relief that flooded you.

“That’s fine.” Your eyes fluttered. He almost smiled at the way you calmed. He wasn’t sure what he’d done to make you like him the way that you so clearly did, but he was grateful for it. Because he returned those feelings.

The room was silent, just the pair of you stood in front of one another and the faint sound of Larry and Oscar burying Zander’s body in the yard. You didn’t care that Zander was deceased. You didnt care that the murderer was in your house. All you cared about was the man stood in front of you and how you were going to make your vivid dream come true.

———————————————————————

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welanabananaworld · 5 years ago

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Us and the voice of dystopia

Jordan Peele’s latest film, Us, is as uncanny and disturbing as his first movie Get Out which proved itself to be a cinematic feat at the time of its release in 2017. Rightly considered as one of the fathers of the horror film renaissance (see also Ari Aster), Jordan Peele has been succeeding not only in addressing societal issues and in adopting a critical stance toward his home country but also in injecting an artistic vision in what is unfairly and generally regarded as second-class films.

In Us, Jordan Peele’s strong sense of composition and framing reveals the main theme of the film : the duality of human nature through the evil self. Nothing revolutionary so far. Many films of the genre have explored the mythology surrounding the figure of the doppelgänger from multiple angles. For example, Alfred Hitchcock’s and Darren Aronofsky’s use of the double has a psychological bent; to dig through Scotty’s perverse psyche in the haunting Vertigo (1958) and to explore a mental illness in Black Swan (2011), whereas in The Great Dictator (1940), Charlie Chaplin chose to play both Hynkel and the Jewish barber for satirical purpose. In Us, nothing of the sort. Remember what we said about Jordan Peele’s films? About how the horror genre disguises social subtexts? But before aiming at the true meaning of this human mirror, one should focus more on the narrative use of the voice which proves to be of utter importance to understand what is at stake, because if you really listen to the voice, you understand the whole film.

Us tells the story of Adelaïde Wilson’s family who goes on holiday at the seaside in Santa Cruz. A series of strange coincidences reminds her of the trauma she experienced there when she was a little girl while vacationing with her parents. She made a disturbing encounter in the hall of mirrors of a funhouse. She came face to face with a little girl who looked just like her. After this event, she could no longer speak for a while because of, it seems, a post-traumatic stress disorder. At present day, overwhelmed with fear, she confides in her husband about her past. The same evening, they discover four people standing outside their house, their doppelgängers. Ruthlessly hunted, the Wilson family will have to look inward in order to counter their own selves.

What strikes first when they all meet is that Red, Adelaïde’s double, is the only one who is able to speak, or rather utter words. She is struggling with very word she says, as if her speech production was failing her somehow. When she starts speaking, her voice happens to be hoarse, cavernous, husky, strained, even choked. Her disorder of phonation makes her voice otherworldly such as of a creature’s coming straight out of hell. It feels like she is not used to talk, actually that this is the first time she tries to pronounce and articulate words to create sentences. In this perspective, it is worth stressing Lupita Nyong’o’s astonishing work to produce Red’s chilling croaky and guttural voice. She used spasmodic dysphonia to make a creepy voice, that is a neurological disorder that causes involuntary breaks or interruptions in the voice due to an irregular flow of air. This language impairment, however, does not prevent Red from telling her story; the story of a dystopian world.

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Red and Adelaïde are two sides of the same mirror. One learns that everything Adelaïde does is mirrored and has an impact on Red’s life, only the other way around. Everything that is happening in Red’s life is a pale copy of Adelaïde’s achievements and takes on a nightmarish dimension. Red’s husband, Abraham, is rough and dumb; her daughter, Umbrae, is born laughing and her son, Pluto, is a dangerous arsonist. The ideal family meets the poor and sad version of themselves who now claims justice through revenge, hence the imagery of the good and evil self.

Throughout the film, the mise-en-scène keeps referring to the double as a warning or rather a prophecy as to the coming of those doppelgängers clad in red jumpsuits, which strangely resemble the clothing of prisoners. The clues left by the director are the following ones : the twin sisters of the superficial WASP family friends, the shadow of each member of the Wilson family projected on the sand while they are walking on the beach, the recurring number « 11:11 » featured here and there (an extract from the Bible, Jeremiah 11:11), Jason wearing a mask (maybe a reference to the iconic masked murderer of Friday the 13th whose name is Jason?), Jason’s drawing showing a kid who looks just like him, a toy plastic spider behind which a true spider appears crawling across the low table of the living room, and of course the daze of mirrors.

All those elements evoke duplicity and foresee a parallel world unknown so far. Red’s voice, alone, embraces all that imagery and embodies the punitive prophecy hidden behind the verse from the Old Testament book, the Book of Jeremiah, whose verse alludes to God’s wrath : « Therefore thus saith the Lord, Behold, I will bring evil upon them, which they shall not be able to escape; and though they shall cry unto me, I will not hearken unto them. » The invasion of the doppelgängers across the world is a divine plague orchestrated by Red from the underworld to take revenge.

In fact, what the film tends to reveal all along is the existence of an underworld located inside « the thousands miles of tunnels beneath the continental United States », which are « abandoned subways systems », as stated at the very beginning of the film as an introduction. Those subways are inhabited by people who are the product of a failed governmental scientific experiment designed to replicate the bodies of those above to manipulate them. However, they discovered that the « soul » could not be duplicated, hence the repudiation and neglect of that population now doomed to survive below the Earth’s surface, with raw rabbits as sole source of nourishment, and to « act out grim recreations of their respective partners’ above ground actions like sad little marionettes. »1 The scientific dimension of this governmental conspiracy is foretold in the opening credits by the camera progressively zooming out the caged rabbits. This shot conveys the idea of a sanitized laboratory. The existence of two opposite worlds is also mentioned by the shot which shows the funhouse twice, by night and day (darkness and daylight).

The organised overthrow, which takes as an example the Hand Across America charity campaign of 1986 (giant human chain), can be interpreted in many ways : an uprising against social inequalities, such as racial, gender and salary based discrimination, which undermine the U.S (or Us); a country where climbing in the social ladder is more and more unattainable for under-represented ethnic minorities. It can also be seen as a denunciation of what America has become, unfair, poor and divided; a denunciation of the famous ideology of American exceptionalism through the ostentatious display of American symbols distorted by the horror genre. The « tethered » are done being downtrodden and ostracized. They want to embrace the American myth that had been promised to them by taking their rights back and by building a new world, hence Red’s assertive reply to Gabe’s question « Who are you, people? » : « We are Americans. » They claim themselves as being true Americans (to be connected to the Native American reference of the original funhouse’s sign), free from all materialistic concerns.

Only, this does not constitute the twist ending of the film. Like all self-respecting horror films, Us is no exception in the matter and does offer a shocking one. And this is the voice which hints at it all along and that turns upside down the government’s theory about their human experiments.

Red’s whistling while walking up the alley of the Wilson’s family with a pair of scissors in her hand in the dark is where the truth really lies. If one has well paid attention to the details, one would have noticed that Adelaïde whistled the same way when she was trapped in the hall of mirrors when she was a young girl, as if to ward off the coming threat. Do you see my point? Why is Adelaïde so reluctant and does have trouble engaging in a conversation with Kitty on the beach? Why would Red be the only tethered to be provided with the ability to speak? Why this eager for revenge? Because Red actually is the true Adelaïde. Back to the funhouse in 1986, young Adelaïde’s clone, Red, was lured to go to the surface as Adelaïde progressively approached to her tragic destiny.

What the film did not show is that Red strangled Adelaïde until she fainted, dragged her down the tunnel, attached her to her bed in the dormitory and switched place with her among Adelaïde’s family, hence her early language deficiency. While Red grew up like a normal little girl and learned how to speak, Adelaïde lost progressively her language abilities growing up among zombie-like human beings, which proves that the government’s theory is wrong. The soul cannot be duplicated but this does not mean that the tethered are « soulless creatures ». If given the chance, as Red has had, the tethered would have turned out perfectly okay. They would have followed the regular human evolution process called « hominisation » or « anthropogenesis », the process of becoming human. Indeed, the doppelgängers all look like primitive animals. Pluto, by his gesture, reminds of a monkey-like primate’s attitude and Abraham’s moans, groans and grunts are those of Cro-Magnon man. Their names evoke ancient times, something rough yet to evolve, and the mythology of the doppelgänger, Pluto being the god of the underworld, Umbrae the latin word for shadow. Abraham is the « Father of the nations » which can be connected to the human chain the tethered seek to initiate to rise up and find they own humanity. Red’s name could refer to the color of the tethered’ garments, and thus evoke the state of imprisonment which they have been reduced to until now.

In this perspective, Red’s voice is not only the voice of dystopia but goes far beyond this sole and somewhat manichean opposition which is the driving force behind the narrative of the film. Red’s voice, by also being the voice of anthropological evolution, mainly serves to establish a connection between the latter subject and the current state of American society. With no equality of opportunity, people cannot equally seek higher social and intellectual status and end up being the slaves of the system. America has now no other choice but to drop her delusions and take her mask off.

1 Bojalad, A., (2019, March 22). Us, Hands Across America, and the failed American experiment. Retrieved from https://www.denofgeek.com/movies/us-jordan-peele-hands-across-america/

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crystaljins · 6 years ago

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Would I choose you? | 02

Characters: Jimin x Reader

Word count: 4.5K

Synopsis: Every year the graduating class of International Academy for Superheroes and Sidekicks are allocated to their future partner. They will work with their partner for the rest of their working lives.

Jimin, the star of your academy and picked as the favourite to succeed in life, is not pleased when he is allocated to you, the school loser.

Superhero!au.

Notes: This fic was inspired by Sky High so I don’t know how it ended up so different from the actual sky high... Keep an eye out for sky high-esque features though >:)

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6

Despite all your bravado about proving Jimin wrong and showing the world how great a sidekick you could be, the first distress call the two of you answer after a week of living together does not go smoothly. So far, in your quest to apprehend a group of wanted criminals, Jimin has sustained a knife injury from a surprise ambush, three of the civilians you had been evacuating to safety had been kidnapped while you aided Jimin after his injury and the success of your mission currently depended on the actions of a very unreliable assistant.

“So let me get this straight,” Jimin asks hesitantly, though not unkindly. One hand is clamped firmly over the knife wound on his forearm. He seems more uncertain and in pain then angry. “You want me to leave the lives of three civilians in the hands of a rat you befriended a week ago?”

“Well, he doesn’t have hands.” You admit nervously. It’s hard to read his expression with his helmet on. You can only see his lips and his chin in his full hero gear but you can make out the sweat that beads on his upper lip. “So we’re leaving them in his claws-“

“Ok no. I’m going in.” Jimin exclaims in a pained exhale, making to push past you. You stop in front of him, extending your arms out on either side of you, blocking his advance.

“You can’t in that state! The second those creeps know we’re here they’ll shoot the civs! Just wait till Ratbert gets back from scoping out what we’re dealing with, ok? If we can get in without them noticing us we can take them down! Besides, we wouldn’t even have this problem if you’d let me evacuate the civs in the first place.” You protest, adjusting the quiver of bow and arrows on your back, the weapon assigned to you by the government based on your weapon proficiency scores. You can sense the disbelief that rolls off Jimin without even trying.

“I know, I made a mistake, but the guy was armed! I needed assistance and I thought you had gotten them all out but- wait... its name is Ratbert?” Jimin responds incredulously. Then he sighs. “Look, you know what, I don’t even care what it’s name is- how do you know we can trust a random rat? The only reason you met him was because he was chewing through some of the food in our pantry, which by the way wouldn’t have happened if you just let me set some mouse traps-“

“That’d kill them!” You protest. He nods.

“Yeah that’s kind of the point!” He cries, before remembering he needs to watch his voice. Your eyes go wide and teary and you know he can see it through your mask because he backtracks quickly, remembering your fight over this matter earlier in the week. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it- I know rats have feelings too and we could have left Ratbert’s 37 offspring without a father.” He says to placate you. You look away, blinking back the tears.

“42. His wife had another litter.”

“Another? You said he promised no more!” Jimin cries, before remembering himself. “Look, we can deal with the rat infestation later- how do you know we can trust this rat?”

Your bickering is interrupted by the sound of a scuffle near your boots- you look down to see Ratbert scurrying towards you. Instantly you reach out for him with your empathy, feeling the bond that allows you to communicate with animals click into place.

“3 blocks of cheese is so not worth this.” He squeaks indignantly, and you crouch to your feet. You feel rather than hear the words, since that is how your ability works. People had asked you how it felt to communicate with animals in the past in the hopes that they could learn it, but it isn’t like speaking the language of each species. It’s a telepathic connection through your empathy that allows them to communicate at the same level as you.

“What did you find?” You demand wordlessly. Ratbert’s nose twitches as he peers up at you with beady eyes.

“Well there’s four of them.” He answers. “They all have that weird dangerous device you told me to look out for.”

“Guns.” You correct him, reminding the rodent of the terminology you had taught him a mere half an hour ago. His whiskers twitch.

“There are three humans that look like they’re trapped. They’re wrapped in those string things you talked about but I think I can chew through them. And I could see a hole large enough for you oafs to squeeze through without detection.” He tells you. He scratches lazily behind his ear with his tiny claws. “When do I get the cheese? My wife’s got a lot of babies to feed and I lost some valuable time gathering this information for you, not to mention you want me to move out next week and that’s gonna be rough on the kids-“

“As soon as those civs are safe.” You promise, before turning your attention back to Jimin who has been watching the whole exchange with a morbid sort of curiosity.

“What’d it say?” He asks slowly.

“Only four. Armed with guns. There’s an entrance around the back that is covered enough that we can probably enter into and once we’re in the room I think we can disarm them. Ratbert will lead us to the hole he found. The civs were restrained with ropes apparently, but Ratbert says he can chew through them so we just have disarm the guards which I guess I can use my arrows and you can take out the other two with your powers.” You say. Jimin nods his head slowly, before glancing at the rat that sits between you. The large gash on his arm continues to ooze blood and a trickle of sweat drips off his jaw.

“Let’s just get this over with.” He gasps.

It seems that your first mission is littered with endless obstacles, however. As it turns out, the ‘hole’ Ratbert was speaking of is a window near the roof of the building you want to break into. Scaling the side of a building is easier said then done with Jimin as injured as he is. Jimin can only stare in dismay at the distance between you and your goal while the two of you scramble for a solution.

“We could try the grappling hook feature on my utility belt?” You suggest hesitantly, while Jimin continues to stare at the window. He glances down at his own utility belt- unlike yours, it is not equipped with various gadgets. Instead, bottles containing water hang off his waist since Jimin’s powers probably have all the functionality of your utility belt when he is not injured. He deliberates for a moment before glancing at you.

“Will it hold the weight of both of us?” He questions tentatively. The government official who had briefed you on the functionalities of your utility belt certainly seemed to think so and you tell Jimin as much. He nods, glancing up with trepidation at the high window once more. “Right. Then, fire away I guess.”

You remove an arrow from the quiver strapped to your back and unravel the coiled rope concealed in the buckle of you belt. You hook the end of the rope to your arrow before firing upwards. The arrow lodges into the wood of the window frame above you. A rope now connects you to the window frame and with a quick adjustment the rope will begin to coil up, and hopefully pull you upwards in the process.

It takes Jimin a moment to realise the implications of what he must do if he wishes to be propelled upwards alongside you. He clears his throat as he takes a hesitant step towards you.

“Today would be nice.” You hear Ratbert squeak from where he is already waiting at the window two stories above your heads. You dutifully ignore him as Jimin slides his arms around you. He is not particularly tall but he is still taller than you and at this proximity you can smell the sourness of his sweat from the exertion of hand-to-hand combat earlier. He hooks his injured arm over your shoulder and curls his finger around your belt.

You had promised yourself, earlier in the week, that you were over your silly crush. Perhaps it had been acceptable when Jimin were nothing but a handsome and well known stranger in the hallways of the academy, untouchable and distance like the models on the cover of a glossy magazine. But now he is your partner- you coworker, essentially, one who does not fully trust you yet. One you have to impress for the sake of your career and dreams, and there is no place for a schoolgirl crush in a partnership as vital as the one you now hold with him. Still, as you glance up to see his face concealed beneath the visor of his helmet in perhaps the closest proximity you ever have held with him and probably ever will, you realise that perhaps this pesky crush of yours will be more difficult to shake than you initially thought.

Still, you are stubborn, practical thing- it is how you managed to top every exam throughout your difficult education despite such meagre powers. And so you ignore the way your heart races as Jimin clings on to you and instead deploy the mechanism. As expected, it pulls you upwards with ease and you are both able to climb through the window into the landing beside it without the detection of the four-armed criminals on the floor below. The building you’ve snuck into is an abandoned warehouse- a metal walkway wraps around the four walls of the building but leaves the expansive concrete of the first floor open to your view.

This is unfortunately the easy part- as you quickly learn, disarming four armed men without alerting the others to your presence is far more difficult than either of you could have predicted. Jimin crouches beside you and signals with his hands for you to take aim while he conjures a ball of water from his belt and freezes it into a blunt weapon. He then launches himself off the landing, disappearing soundlessly into the floor below. Taking a deep, calming breath, you aim at one of the men with your bow and arrow.

“What are you waiting for?” Ratbert asks when he registers your hesitation. The thing is, you have no intention of maiming him or anything awful like that, but you do not see how you can disarm him at this distance without seriously injuring him.

It is your hesitation that costs you and when Jimin moves to disable the first guy, expecting you to do the same, that is when all chaos breaks loose. The other three men are quick to learn their comrade has been disarmed and dealt with. That leaves Jimin on the ground again three men armed with guns with three civs to protect. You know you’ve messed up when the first bullet goes off.

You are unsure how you survive the ensuing chaos. Everything is a whir of gunshots and the sounds of ice shattering as Jimin utilises his hydrokinetic powers to deploy far more ice shields than he can handle in his injured state. You manage to shoot the gun out of one of the guard’s hands with a blunt ended arrow, before joining the fight yourself. Ratbert uses the chaos to free the civillians from their binding but it isn’t enough.

The criminals are forced to flee under Jimin’s relentless assault and your frantic flailing. This would have been an acceptable outcome except for the fact that the whole point of the distress call had been to apprehend them. They leave you with three injured civilians, Jimin bleeding and barely conscious, and the bitter knowledge that you have failed. For your mission was to arrest the criminals, not allow them to kidnap and injure three civillians and then escape relatively unscathed, and perhaps you would not have failed were it not for your initial hesitation.

You do not need the reminder that Jimin delivers as the two of you await the arrival of the ambulance, but that does not stop him from voicing it aloud anyway.

“So much for proving me wrong.” Is his resentful, frustrated comment. It isn’t quite drowned out by the blade of ambulance sirens in the background.

“Sounds to me like he’s being a bit of a jerk.” Jin offers helpfully on the phone a week later. It has been a rough week- Jimin did not take well to simultaneously being put out of commission for a while due to his injury and failing his first ever distress call. He hasn’t exactly ignored you but he hadn’t been what you would call friendly or obliging either. Just chilly. Cool and distant, like the water he can control and manipulate.

“But the mission was a bit of a disaster.” You say in Jimin’s defence, but it is half-hearted. The truth is, you are lonely and miserable and Jimin’s passive aggressive attitude hurts a lot more than it probably should. You hadn’t fooled yourself with expectations that you would get along with your hero, knowing the reputation that preceded you, but having the hope extinguished so brutally still hurts all the same.

“So what? It’s your first mission. Everyone fails their first mission.” Jin points out. You scoff.

“Liar. I saw you in the newspaper last week for busting that bank robbery.” You counter, but it is good-natured. You’d never begrudge Jin his success no matter how bad things seem to be going for you.

“Yes, well I am exceptional and thus an exception to that rule.” Jin sniffs in response. You laugh and sigh into the phone. It has only been a couple of weeks but you miss him and your other friends and you miss your family and the only contact you’ve had with a living being in the past week is the pigeon building a nest on your windowsill and an injured robin you had nursed back to health. And while both had been nice enough, they weren’t really substitutes for human interaction.

“I wish you had been there.” You say wistfully. “If it had been you you probably could have turned the guns into potatoes or something.”

“That’s a low blow- you know I have trouble with savoury foods.” Jin gasps in mock offence. “But don’t torture yourself like that, ok? You did the best you could and next time you’ll be better. These things take time.”

“I know.” You confess dejectedly. “It’s just so hard. I’m living in a new city and my best friend lives an hour away and Jimin hates me. Maybe I should have just quit when his mum asked me to.”

“Don’t say that- it can’t all be bad! What about that pigeon you befriended that you told me about last week? Is she still nesting outside your window?” Jin asks in a last-ditch attempt to cheer you up.

“Yes.” You mumble into the phone. “She laid her eggs yesterday and is pretty nervous about them- apparently they’re her first hatchlings.”

“See! That’s exciting! And the alley cat stopped swearing at you every time you walk past, right? So not everything about this city is bad. Tell you what- a friend of mine owns a pet store in your area- why don’t you order in some grain in for Val and the three of us can have lunch together. Sound good?” Jin coaxes and you sigh.

“I guess...” you answer. A ruckus in your living room distracts you, followed by Jimin calling your name softly in the other room. “Anyway, I have to go Jin, I think Jimin wants me for something.”

“Say no more,” Jin says cheerfully. “Gotta resolve those lover’s quarrels before they get to out of hand, after all.”

You retaliate by hanging up on him. Right as you do, you hear and alarmed cry coming from the other room. You are instantly on guard, racing into the room, prepared for an ambush. In your living room, Jimin is standing on the back of the couch, his eyes wide with alarm. You are unsure how he got up there with his arm in a sling.

“What is it? What’s wrong?” You cry. Jimin just shakes his head as words fail him for a moment longer.

“Why are there mealworms in the fridge?” He almost screeches when he recovers his voice. Your eyes go wide- you had bought them the other week to feed the robin you had been nursing. You had meant to get rid of them once she had been well enough to be released, but it had slipped your mind.

“I… well… You see, there was this bird and I-“ You say slowly. Jimin’s eyes bug out of his head and he leaps down off the back of the couch.

“Look, I know I said it was fine for you to do the whole nurturing wild animals thing, and it really is fine, but we talked about this! None of your weird animal food in the fridge and none of the rats are allowed in the eating areas!” He cries. “Is that so unreasonable?”

“Well, the rats moved out because an alley cat has started living on the fire escape so-“ You say slowly, and Jimin sighs.

“Is that why your hand is all bandaged up? Did you try and pet the feral cat?” He asks. You glance down at where you have haphazardly slapped some bandages over your wrists and arm after the alley cat got a little stroppy with you when you asked him to stop fighting other cats at weird hours because it was interrupting your sleeping schedule.

Rapidly, all the fight seems to drain out of Jimin- he sinks to the couch and squeezes both eyes shut. Defeat is written into every line of his posture and he runs the hand that is not currently in a sling through his hair.

“You know what, never mind.” He says. He blinks open one eye. “I called you in here because I just got off the phone with my mum. She has requested I take you out for dinner tonight and has offered to pay.” He says tiredly. He offers you a weak smile. “Where would you like to go?”

You frown- you are unsure why his mother is suddenly suggesting he treat you to a meal. The last contact you had was her giving you one last warning to quit outside the principal’s office. You know Jimin has had a few fights with her on the phone over the matter, and so for her to suddenly request such a thing instantly has you on edge. Still, this is the most interaction you have had with Jimin all week and you aren’t about to pass up the opportunity to get to know your partner better and hopefully move past the disastrous outcome of your first ever mission together. You would even go so far as to say that you’re excited- perhaps this is the chance for a new start you had been hoping for. It seems that Jimin is finally willing to give you the time of day- perhaps he actually wants you to be his partner? Or at the very least, perhaps you can convince him to accept you as his partner.

You aren’t particularly familiar with the area and neither is Jimin since you’ve only lived together for two weeks, and so you resort to looking up nice restaurants on Jimin’s phone. You settle on a sleek but fancy Italian restaurant that’s only two stops away on the train line. You dress in the nicest clothes you have at your disposal, and Jimin steps out of his room looking unfairly handsome in his button-down, even with one arm in a sling, and dress pants. He looks at you and smiles awkwardly- if you didn’t know any better you’d say he looks a little guilty, but what reason does he have to be guilty? You shake off the thoughts and let him lead the way.

The restaurant is fancy and way out of you price range- you are glad that Jimin’s mother is paying. The carpet is a plush, velvety red and the tables are draped with pristine white cloth. Jimin is fidgety as the two of you are seated- he keeps nervously running his fingers through his hair and tugging at the buttons on the cuffs of his sleeves. The uneasy feeling you had when he first informed you his mother was paying for your dinner returns- what exactly is it that has Jimin on edge? You realise with dread pooling at the base of your ribs that your hopeful thoughts earlier were a little foolish- Jimin had been close to ignoring you all week and his mother hated you. This was probably not the request for a fresh start and another chance to prove yourself that you had been hoping for.

You lose your appetite and are reduced to picking awkwardly at your pasta. Jimin doesn’t speak and neither do you- you both simply sit in silence. Finally, it seems Jimin has had enough for he stops idly twirling his pasta around his fork and sets it decisively beside his plate. He lays his uninjured arm neatly on the table and stares straight at you. You look away first, still on edge and unsure about the intentions behind this dinner.

“You’re probably wondering why my mother’s paying for our dinner, huh?” He inquires softly, almost gently. You do not want to betray your burning curiosity and merely respond with the slightest nod. Jimin chuckles lightly, but it is not a friendly sound- more like a nervous, pained exhale that hiccupped on the way out. When he looks at you, his eyebrows are knitted together. A thin line sits between where they meet and his gaze is troubled. “It’s no secret she wants you to quit.” He confesses. Your heart drops- so this was the motivation behind this nice dinner.

“And you?” You ask softly. Your voice trembles perhaps a little more than you would have liked. You regret your inability to conceal your emotions. Jimin dabs nervously at his mouth with a napkin, an entirely unnecessary action considering he has yet to take a bite of his dinner.

“I…” He begins softly, hesitantly. He reaches for his water and takes a long sip. Finally he gathers the courage to look at you. The look is unreadable. You are tempted to read his emotions, but something tells you that you won’t enjoy what you sense there. “I’d like for you to step down. I admittedly didn’t think it’s fair for me to get a new sidekick just using my connections. I wasn’t going to let her bully you into quitting. But… it’s just that I don’t think we work well together and I’d prefer it if you quit right now.”

For a second, you blink uncomprehendingly. Then his words sink in.

“I… you want me to quit?” You ask, your voice cracking. Jimin stares at you for a long moment, before nodding slowly.

“I think it would be best. For both of us.” He confesses. “I know that professional allocators assigned us together, but I can’t see us working well. I’ll go on the waiting list and I’m confident I’ll find a new sidekick, and I’m sure you can find an alternative career path-”

“Why?” You interrupt. It’s a little hard to hear him over the roaring in your ears but you are suddenly aware of an unfamiliar emotion. It is anger- you rarely feel angry but you are angry now. “Why should I be the one to quit? If you’re so sure we won’t work well together and the allocators were wrong, why don’t you step down? Find another career path while I get assigned a new hero? Why do I have to be the one to quit?”

Jimin blinks, as if he hadn’t considered that an option before. He looks puzzled, as if the concept is foreign to him and he never considered the possibility that he should be the one to quit if he wasn’t willing to work with you. Perhaps his confidence in his connections is why it’s never crossed his mind- if you were to quit and he went on the waiting list, lots of sidekicks would be lining up to be paired with him because of his family and his potential. But if he were to quit, you don’t stand a chance on that waiting list- he would essentially be destroying both your careers. So while it makes sense for you to be the one to quit, it does not make it any more fair or reasonable.

“What does it matter if you quit or I quit? Why are you so determined to be a sidekick anyway?” Jimin asks, a bit defensive. “Your powers aren’t exactly designed for crime-fighting. Wouldn’t it be easier to just choose a new career path? You haven’t done anything to live up to the reputation you have at the academy- why can’t you just quit and let me actually have a shot at succeeding? Is it because you have feelings for me? I’ve heard the rumours, but I didn’t think-”

Your eyes bug out of your head- you have never felt more offended in your life. You don’t know how he knows about your silly little crush but you are far more preoccupied with offence at his insinuation rather than the little details like how he knew.

“Excuse me?” You ask incredulously- you rise to your feet, too upset to remain seated. Jimin’s eyes widen when he realises that your dinner is escalating to a spectacle. “Did you really just imply I’d only want to be paired with someone like you because I have feelings to you? That I’d let something like a crush cloud my professional judgement that much? I’m in this profession because I want to help people, and if I quit now I’ll never get that chance. So no, I’m not going to quit. You’re more than welcome to quit but I’m not going to give up my dreams because you can’t see past the end of your nose and you think for some reason that you’re a gift to humanity.”

Jimin is speechless. You want to say more, you do. You want Jimin to regret his hurtful words- you want him to understand where you’re coming from. You want him to give you another chance to prove yourself. You want to push past the humiliation of having your crush exposed. You want a lot of things, but you don’t get the chance to.

Jimin’s phone begins to beep with an alert- it’s your next distress call.

#Jimin fluff #park jimin #jimin #jimin angst #jimin x reader #bts fluff #writing

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angsty-nerd · 5 years ago

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Fictober 21

#21. “Change is annoyingly difficult.”

Roswell, NM fanfic

Max & Arturo, Isobel, Mr. & Mrs. Evans.

Just as a mini note... this one is also the (rough) start to one of my bunnies hopping around in my head, so it might pop back up at some point in the future as Ch 1 of a multi-part fic.

Again, below the cut for a bit of length...

Year 1

There was a slight bounce in his step when he entered the kitchen that morning, and it was enough to draw his entire family's attention.

"Well look who is up and moving early this morning," his father greeted him dryly. "Got plans to do something with your life today, Max?"

Isobel snickered, so Max shot her a glare as he dropped into his seat at the table and poured himself a bowl of cereal.

"Cut him some slack," his mother protested on his behalf. "It's been rough for him lately. And I think it's nice to see you doing better, Max."

"Thanks, Mom." He replied with a grateful smile. It was a fairly typical family exchange. His father would criticize him for his lack of drive; for not being at college or having a full time job. Max would usually protest that he was working on his novel, or that tutoring students from the Military Academy was a real job, but his father would hear none of it until his mother shut the conversation down.

At least, that's how it would go on the days that Max left his room at all. Some days he had trouble even facing the outside world. Sometimes he couldn't even get out of bed, held prisoner by the crushing weight of his guilt in a queen-sized bed.

"Oh dear," his mother suddenly sighed with a shake of her head. She and his father were reading the newspaper over breakfast like they did most days, trading sections back and forth between the two of them as they ate.

"What is it?" His father glanced up from the sports section curiously.

"Oh, it's the anniversary of that accident last year where those poor girls were killed."

"Tragedy," his father mumbled with a shake of his head, as his eyes went back to the baseball box scores.

"The Daily Record has a memorial on the front page today for the two girls who were in the car. And an expose on that Ortecho girl that was driving. It says that her autopsy showed that she was drunk and high at the time of the accident. And she was known around town for being both a vandal and a drug dealer."

Max just kept his eyes trained on his cereal bowl. He didn't want to look at Isobel. He didn't want to know what was going through her head listening to their mom talk about the worst day of their lives.

Thankfully, he heard the newspaper pages rustling as his mom moved on to a different page. "Such a shame that she had to take two innocent girls with her when she decided to go."

He winced at her words, wanting to defend Rosa, who had no say in the matter, but knowing that he couldn't. After all, she was drunk and high that night. He saw her.

Needing to escape, Max shoved the last few bites in his mouth, and then rinsed his bowl, calling out a goodbye to his family as he hurried out the door.

It was a big day, after all. It was a day a year in the making, and he had plans.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

He went straight to the Crashdown.

One year ago today, Liz Ortecho's sister had died. A few days later, she abruptly skipped town without saying goodbye and essentially broke his heart in the process. Since that day, he had spent twelve months fighting depression and trying desperately to write his feelings out, all while missing and longing for Liz.

His father wasn't wrong when he complained of Max having no direction in life. He had two plans at the end of high school. One involved following Liz on her road trip and falling in love and just allowing her life to take him along on her adventure. The other involved traveling Europe with Michael and writing his first novel. Both dreams burned to ashes in that blue car alongside the bodies of Rosa, Kate, and Jasmine.

But now a year had passed. And Max was heading to the Crashdown with a single minded purpose: to see Liz Ortecho again. After all, she would want to be with her father today of all days, wouldn't she?

As Max drove his Jeep into the town square, he slowed, startled at the sight of a number of sheriff's department vehicles parked haphazardly in front of the Crashdown, lights flashing.

He pulled into a parking space about a block away and sat there, watching and worrying. He could see Sheriff Valenti speaking with Liz's father, while his deputies seemed to be cataloguing evidence from a crime. Arturo Ortecho looked stressed out. He was talking with animation, his anxiety clearly high.

Suddenly the sheriff stopped writing notes, placed a hand on Arturo's shoulder and seemed to ask him a question. Arturo nodded firmly.

Just like that, Valenti ordered his men to pack it up and call it a day.

"No crime to report here," he announced, loud enough that even Max could hear.

Within a few minutes, the police presence was gone, and Arturo was alone with a broom, sweeping up the broken glass on the sidewalk all on his own.

Angry and determined to help, Max stepped from his Jeep and crossed the street to speak with Liz's father.

"Mr. Ortecho." Max greeted him. "Can I ask, what happened?"

Arturo nodded at him. "Max Evans, right?" Max nodded. "Liz always liked you." He said thoughtfully as he swept.

"I always liked her." Max replied, trying to not laugh at what an understatement it was coming from him. "We were friends. How is she doing? Is she here?"

"Oh, no," Arturo dismissed, with a long emphasis on the denial. "No, she's working hard, summer classes and a research internship. My little genius. No time to come home to her Papi. It's good though. Better for her this way."

Max nodded, because as he surveyed the scene he actually did understand what Arturo was saying. Broken glass littered the sidewalk in front of the restaurant, and it looked like both the door and the windows along the square had been busted in.

"Can I help you clean up, Mr Ortecho? It's a hard enough day for you and I don't have anywhere to be."

"Oh, I…"

"It's the least I can do for Liz." Max insisted, and it seemed to be the right thing to say. Arturo swallowed his protest and nodded.

"I can handle this mess just fine, but there's plenty more inside. There's another broom and more cleaning supplies in the break room closet."

"Got it."

Max stepped through the frame of the door into the restaurant and froze, surveying the scene in front of him. Liz's father wasn't exaggerating when he said there was more of a mess inside. It looked like there had been an earthquake, tornado, or some other natural disaster. The floor was covered with broken glass, broken plates, mugs, bowls…anything breakable had been strewn around the room and destroyed. Even all of the restaurant's cutlery was tossed all over the floor.

It also looked like there had been a food fight. Clearly the intruders had gotten into the store room as well, and made as big of a mess of the place as possible. Gobs of ketchup dotted the tables, melted ice cream was dripping down the long front counter, and chunks of chocolate cake were sticking to the walls in a number of places.

But the mess wasn't the worst part. The worst part was the bright red paint on the wall screaming, "MURDERERS, GO BACK TO MEXICO".

Max's heart started pounding and he suddenly felt like he was losing his breath. He braced himself against the wall beside him and tried to force himself to take long, even breaths, but it quickly became harder, as he started crying and gasping for air.

We did this. He kept thinking. I did this. Because of me, Rosa was named a murderer and Arturo is a target.

Guilt flooded through him, overtaking the initial panic that he felt at the sight of the disaster in front of him. He forced himself to pull it together, surveyed the room, and got to work.

I did this. I will fix this. He decided.

He went to the back closet and grabbed a broom and a dustpan. He prepped a trash can for himself, and finally snagged a few of the plastic tubs from the bussing station. Slowly and carefully, he started sweeping up the debris, dumping a dustpan full at a time into one plastic bin so that he could fish out any silverware or anything else salvageable, before dumping the rest in the trash.

He had worked through about a dozen loads when Liz's father joined him from outside. Working together went much faster than alone, and soon the floor was clear and they shifted their focus to cleaning the booths, and then the countertops.

It was mid-afternoon, when Arturo emerged from the store room with a bottle of solution and a tag. "Since youve been so kind to help me, I will ask one last thing...can I please take advantage of your height and ask you to clean that for me." He gestured distastefully to the painted walls.

"Of course," Max agreed, and immediately went to work trying to wash away the stain of racism that the town had left behind.

"Oh no!" Max exclaimed sadly when he realized the paint thinner was cutting straight through the mural beneath as well. "I'm so sorry, Mr. Ortecho."

"There's nothing to be done," Arturo said sadly with a shrug. "At least it is only the one wall. I'll have Maria come over to see if she can fix it when you're done. She isn't quite as talented as Rosa, but she's the next best option."

After he was done with the wall, Arturo offered to make Max a burger, but Max refused. "No, you take care of yourself, Mr, Ortecho. I'm good. I have something else I need to do anyway."

"Okay," Arturo replied, and he grasped Max's hands in his own. "Thank you for your help today."

"I'm glad I was here." Max started to leave, but as he reached the door, he paused and turned back. "Mr. Ortecho? Please don't tell Liz about this...me helping with the cleanup I mean. She doesn't need to know."

Arturo just nodded in agreement, and then Max was out the door and gone. He passed the window repair guy, who was just arriving to replace the windows. Max smiled and waved as he crossed the street and hopped back into the Jeep.

One year ago his entire life had changed for the worse, and for the last year he'd been lost, treading water, despondent. But today, a year later, he was going to change his life again. Because he knew after spending the day with Arturo exactly what he wanted to do with himself.

So Max drove straight to the Chavez County Sheriff's Department office in Roswell and enquired about the process to sign up for their academy program. He filled out the paperwork on the spot, and by sunset his future was no longer this nebulous unknown thing that he feared.

He walked into the house that evening and flopped onto the couch next to his sister, feeling lighter than he had in days, and it showed.

"What's with you?" Isobel asked curiously. "Did Liz come home like you dreamed she would?"

"No, actually, she didn't. I just finally figured out what I want today."

"Oh yeah, and what's that?"

"I...I want to help people, Iz. I want to feel like I'm standing up for what's right. I don't want being a bad person to define me for the rest of my life. I guess...I want to make up for my mistakes. So I signed up for the Sheriff's Academy."

"You what?" Isobel gaped. She stared at him for a long moment and then finally nodded. "No, actually, I can see it. You've always been a pain in my ass, brother. Now you can focus all of that 'do the right thing' energy on other people instead of me."

"Hey now!"

"Seriously, though. Change is annoyingly difficult, Max, and so far you've kinda sucked at it. I'm glad that you found some direction. I hope that this is good for you."

"Thanks, Iz."

Two months later, the next freshman class initiated their training program at the Academy, and Max was sworn into civil service. That day, while standing in his freshly pressed uniform in front of the U.S. and Zia flags, he officially became Deputy-in-Training Evans. When the oath was over, they handed him a white cowboy hat, which Max held in his hands for a long time, before carefully placing it on his head and following his training officer to his first assignment.

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