#also opinions on the names? are they any good?

[callalillywrites]

Shooting His Shot Part 2

Here is the conclusion of Shooting His Shot, and I really hope you enjoy this little AU as much as I had in writing it.

Please let me know what you think and if you might want to see more of this universe with the other characters featured here. Seriously, it wouldn't take much to convince to create more. Also, would love some suggestions on a good name for this AU if you've got any.

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader

Other notable characters: Bucky Barnes, Jake Jensen, Sam Wilson, Ari Levinson, Natasha Romanoff, Peter Parker, and honorably mentioned Curtis Everett

Word Count: 3880

Summary: Steve owns a steakhouse that you used to frequent before your ex came into the picture. Now, your ex is gone, and you're ready to head back to the one place you've always felt welcome and wanted. What neither you nor Steve count on is his staff, led by Bucky, launching a full-one assault effort to get you two together. It's time the two of you realize your feelings for one another.

Warnings: abusive ex (Reader's), pining, so much pining, fluff, two ridiculous idiots in love, a whole bunch of matchmakers

A/N: This is a completely self-indulgent story made like one of those cheesy rom-com which is my bread and butter at this point. It's proofread, but any mistakes are my own.

I also do not give permission for my work to be copied or posted on other sites or fed into an AI machine.

*****

Coming into the room, Steve can’t help taking in the changes himself.

How they managed to clear out the old office and transform it into a decent private dining area is amazing. The amount of time should’ve been far greater than the natural lull between lunch and dinner service. Yet, his staff somehow pulled it off.

“Nick work,” he murmurs as he passes Jake and Peter on his way to the small table.

His words are enough to puff up both their chests and bring pleased grins.

They barely wait long enough for you and him to sit before they approach the table once more. In seconds, they have his and your drink orders before hurrying off.

“I hope they aren’t neglecting their other tables,” he can’t help mumbling though he knows them well enough.

Peter’s been so grateful for the promotion and has been working hard to prove himself. As much as Steve and Sam have continued to praise Peter and his skills, it doesn’t seem to have sunk in yet with the younger man. They’re not giving up as they’re sure he’ll eventually get there and realize they aren’t messing with him.

As for Jake, Steve’s never really had reason for concern. Jake can be a bit awkward, especially around the prettier clientele, but he’s always maintained his professionalism. That awkwardness has even worked in Jake’s favor a time or two from what Steve can tell. He’s certainly drawn in a few of their regulars between his professionalism and his natural ability to put others at ease.

Without Jake, Steve’s not so sure he would’ve met you or had you coming back.

Little does he know that it’s his kindness and his own awkward shyness that made you a regular.

“I have no doubt they’re handling them just fine. Sam and Nat would never let them live it down if they weren’t. You have a good team here.”

Hearing your praise, Steve can’t help but exhale a little. While he knows how good his team is, it’s nice to hear you defend them. Your opinion matters. Maybe more than it should, but then, you matter to him. Since that first day you walked in, you’ve mattered.

Not that he’s ever let himself show you for fear you might not be interested.

It’s why he’s let so many years of silence sit between you when he might’ve taken a chance. Sure, he can blame it on his honor of not hitting on customers. Then again, you haven’t really been considered a customer by him or his staff for the longest time now.

When you brought Brock into the steakhouse almost a year ago, Steve believed he lost his chance. The way you looked at Brock was the same look of love and adoration Steve wanted for himself. He couldn’t help disliking the guy though he’d done his best to remain professional while you and Brock dined.

You only came a few more weeks after that first dinner with Brock before you stopped.

At each of those meals, Steve couldn’t help noting how you said less and less. Your bright friendliness and warmth dimmed more and more though you never stopped being nice to the staff. It didn’t take a genius to see the cause of those changes within you.

Brock.

He’d grown more brash and rude after that first meal. No matter how much you tried to intervene and beg him to stop, Brock not only didn’t listen, but he tried to verbally annihilate you.

It was during that last meal that Steve had had enough. Not only had it been clear that Brock had taken away your confidence and your happiness, but he’d also taken away your ability to fight for yourself.

When you’d gone to the bathroom, Steve had stepped up to the table and asked Brock never to return to his steakhouse. He also made it known that such behavior towards his staff and towards you were not only unwanted but punishable.

As much as Steve wanted to deck Brock, it was one of the only times he’d kept calm. Because of you, he didn’t do what he’d done in the past. Brock got to walk away with his nose intact and his skin unblemished. There was a promise that if Brock ever returned, consequences would follow.  

What Steve hadn’t counted on was not seeing you again until all these months later.

Glancing at you across the table, he can see your quiet confidence and bubbliness has come back. The dark cloud looming over you is nowhere to be found. It makes him happy to see you hadn’t let Brock keep you down. That would be the real shame.

“Do I have something on my face or something?” you ask, breaking the brief silence.

Steve shakes himself before shaking his head. “No, you’re perfect, bijou.”

Butterflies erupt when you beam at him.

*****

Jake and Peter return with your drinks and a sampler platter that you didn’t order.

“Ari made you a fresh mocktail since Sam swept you away before you could finish the other one,” Jake says with a small wink, setting your drink in front of you. At least some of your training on flirting hasn’t left him since your absence. “Said not to worry about it, either. It’s on Sam.”

“Bucky also sent us out with this platter. Said he wanted your thoughts on a few new items he’s been considering for the menu.” This came from Peter who set the platter carefully next to the tiny vase of flowers. The platter contains several different foods from cheese sticks and poppers to some tiny ribs and wings.

You’re quite impressed by it all, yet you can’t help saying, “This all looks so wonderful, but I really hope you’re not going through a lot of trouble just for me.”

“No trouble, future Boss Lady.”

You hear Steve choke on the drink Jake just gave him though he recovers quickly enough.

“We’ll be back soon with your order,” Peter says, giving Jake an exasperated look. He shoves Jake from the room, muttering words too low for you to make out.

Neither notice when you call after them, “But we haven’t ordered yet.”

When they don’t come back, you turn to Steve with what has to be a comical expression as you ask, “Future Boss Lady? The free drink, the hugs, and everything I’ve gotten since I walked in. Are they…”

You pause in the hopes of Steve finishing the thought for you.

He sets his hand on the table, palm up and open in invitation.

There is no hesitation when you place your hand in his, relishing the warmth and the soft callouses that line his fingertips. Working man’s hands as your father used to call them. You have never appreciated the feel of another’s hand until that moment.

The soft smile you’ve grown to love over all the years you’ve known him peeks out as he finishes your question, “Trying to woo you for me? Yeah, I think they are. Well, that and they have genuinely missed you these last six months.”

That has your attention.

The answer isn’t something you expect because you’re still so sure that Steve isn’t interested in you. As if to prove your previous belief correct, you ask, “What about you? Did you miss me?”

A part of you wonders if he’ll even answer the question. You’ve never really been so straightforward with him before. This changes the little dance you two have done since that first meeting a few years back. You’re not even sure you’re ready to hear his answer.

Not that you’ve given yourself a choice.

He doesn’t keep you waiting long. His thumb runs over yours while his gaze meets yours. His voice is low, conspiratorial as he admits, “Mon bijou, the last 187 days have been the longest of my life.”

You suck in a breath as his words wash over you. It’s the first time he’s ever added ‘my’ to his nickname for you. Before, you were always ‘jewel’ and you liked it, but this is something else. It gives you the courage to press for more.  

“You’ve counted the days since my last time here?”

Pink tinges his cheeks while his other hand comes up to rub at his neck. Despite the embarrassment of his confession, he doesn’t seem all that upset about having admitted it. In fact, he nods.

An almost hysterical type of giggle escapes as you admit, “I counted them, too.”

New tears, happy ones, burn at your lash line and threaten to spill over.

His hand tightens on yours. “Please, don’t cry.”

“I’m not,” you say though your conviction is shaky to say the least. “So, if I were to ask you to join me for an art show next week, you would…”

“Love to go,” he finishes without hesitation.

“Ugh, Mr. Rogers, you’re supposed to ask her out, not the other way around,” Peter grouses from the doorway before Jake can cover his mouth.

The two grapple for a few seconds, earning them a raised brow from both you and Steve.

“Apologies, Boss Man,” Jake finally manages when he’s got Peter in a loose chokehold, his hand firmly over Peter’s mouth, “but he’s not necessarily wrong. Smooth finish though. Mentally noting that with all the training future Boss Lady’s given me.”

You turn your face away before your laughter escapes you. To help, you even cover your mouth to keep the giggles in. It’s taking all your ability to keep yourself from just losing it in the moment. Your love for this group of people is overflowing with how much they aren’t subtly trying to help you and Steve out.

When you finally regain your composure, you meet Steve’s equally amused expression as he asks, “Did you two need something? Forget something perhaps? What about your other tables?”

“Checked them. All good, Mr. Rogers. We did forget to take your orders earlier, but Mr. Barnes says he’s got it handled.”

“Of course, he does. Thank you, Peter. Why don’t you and Jake head back to your stations?” His gaze softens the longer he looks at you. “I think we’ll be okay here for a bit.”  

Heat suffuses your cheeks, but you nod, happy to have more time with Steve alone.

Peter and Jake hasten back to their stations, content they’ve done their parts for the moment. You can see their happiness in the way they smile at you before disappearing down the hall. Jake even sends you a pair of thumbs up and a wink.

“I apologize for them.”

You shake your head. “Oh, please, don’t. It’s nice they care so much about you. You’re a good boss. Maybe even the best out there from what I’ve learned over the years.”

“What have you learned?” He arches a brow as he leans forward. His hand still holds yours on the table; his thumb has taken to rubbing a steady path across yours.

With a sip of your new favorite mocktail, you offer him a smile before diving in. “Well, I know that you and Bucky have made it so everyone starts at a living wage. From your dishwashers to your managers and even yourselves, you pay each and every employee enough to live without having to necessarily fear paying their bills each month. I also know that you and Bucky aren’t greedy with your earnings, either. You two are never making more than five times what your lowest earners make. You’ve even lived on zero salaries during some of the leaner years, so you could keep all your employees.”

Rather than the challenge he’d given you earlier with one raised brow, both are now touching his hairline as you reveal all you know.

But you’re not done yet.

“You’re also generous with paid time off and sick days compared to almost any employer out there. While you do occasionally ask your employees to help cover each other, you don’t guilt them or make them feel bad if they can’t cover. You’re not above rolling up your sleeves and stepping in when necessary. Hard work doesn’t scare you from bussing tables to managing customer complaints. I don’t think anyone out there has a negative thing to say about you or Bucky. You have their respect and their devotion. It’s why your restaurant has the lowest turnover rate in the city.”

You take another sip of your mocktail, needing a moment to catch your breath.

“So many companies tout the whole idea of their employees being family to them, but they’re empty words. Used as a manipulation technique. That’s not the case here. You and Bucky really have created a family here. You celebrate your employees’ victories and help them through tough times. You care about them and their lives outside the restaurant. It’s not because you want to pull more work out of them, but because you actually care about their well-being. Do you know how rare and precious that is? Is it really any wonder that I have had the biggest crush on you since forever?”

It takes less than a second for you to realize what you’ve admitted.

Now, you just need the floor to open and swallow you whole.

*****

Steve’s heart leaps at your last few words.

You have a crush on him.

That’s something he thought not possible despite his ever-deepening feelings for you over the years.

Yet, that’s nothing compared to how much you’ve learned about him and the steakhouse. He’s not sure how you came by all this information, but he’s certain he doesn’t care. The fact that it’s enough to impress you with all he’s firmly believed in doing for his staff makes it that much easier to fall for you even harder.

“You really noticed all that?”

You nod, your gaze lowering to where he’s still holding your hand. “Yeah, mostly from Jake and Nat, but also reading what are supposed to be puff pieces about the place. I think I might be a little invested in the success of this place.”

He tightens his hold on your hand, needing to know you aren’t some figment of his imagination. No other woman he’s ever met or been interested in has ever been so deeply sincere as you’re being with him now. They certainly hadn’t cared about the vision he and Bucky had for their restaurant so much as what they could get out of it for themselves. You care about his staff almost as much as he and Bucky do, and he can’t help loving you even more for it.

“I know I should’ve done this ages ago,” he swallows, then pushes on, “but do you think you might have dinner with me?”

Your gaze bounces to his before you motion toward the table and the appetizer that’s still sitting between you.

He chuckles. “Not this dinner. I mean a real one. I pick you up, hold the door open for you, and woo you properly. No assistance or machinations from others. Say, Monday night?”

“If I say yes, does that mean this one has to end? I’ve really, really been looking forward to one of Bucky’s creations and seeing everyone here, especially you.”

“Nah, I don’t want this one to end, either. Besides, it looks like the others have gone to a lot of trouble to make this happen. Don’t want to let their hard work go to waste.”

That earns him a beaming smile, and he’s more than ready to make it happen as often as he can.

“We should probably eat this before it gets cold.”

Nodding, you pick up one of the cheese sticks and take a bite while he chooses one of the poppers.

Both of you have to bite back moans, but the food is worth every bit of praise that’s sure to pass through both your lips before the night is over.

Talk soon turns towards the food and how good it is. You even offer Steve a sip of Ari’s latest concoction since he hasn’t been allowed to try it until your return. He finds it delicious though maybe not as much as you do. Every sip you take, he notes the little happy wiggle you do. It’s another thing he’s missed seeing these last six months.

Your enjoyment of the food and drinks the steakhouse offers is nothing short of wondrous to watch. None of it is faked to spare hurt feelings. The rare occasions you don’t like something, you share your thoughts with great care, couching your criticisms with plenty of positive feedback and constructive notes.

When the food is gone, Steve glances to find you biting your lip before you seem to come to a decision. Your gaze meets his as you say, “I, uh, I know this is one of your usual nights off. As are Mondays. Can I ask why you’re here really? Is it really to catch up on paperwork and handle payroll? Seems like those would be handled as necessary during the few hours between lunch and dinner.”

Steve blows out a breath.

He wonders how long you’ve been holding onto that information and which of his staff might’ve revealed this little tidbit to you.

Knowing you’ve revealed something deeply held, it’s only fair he does the same. If he wants to prove he’s all in, then he needs to step up and do it.

Another breath, he admits softly, “This is the day you usually make a reservation. Your early victory for surviving another week. Has been since the day you graduated with honors from university. So, it’s become a tradition for you to come each week. Your chance to spoil yourself. Since meeting you, mon bijou, I’ve found myself not wanting to miss an opportunity to see you again. Even if it’s in snatches on Thursdays, I’ll take it. You’re the greatest highlight of my week.”

Your eyes widen at his confession, but then, he’s certain he did the same with yours.

Though, you seem to recover quick enough as you ask, “Does this mean we’ve been pining for each other this entire time? Are we really those idiots in love you see in those Hallmark movies?”

Steve chuckles and nods. “I think we might be.”

“Oh, you most definitely are, but we love you both anyway,” Nat says from the doorway, her signature smirk in place. “Dinner will be out shortly.”

She takes off then.

When his gaze meets yours, you both burst out laughing.

“Well, my fellow idiot, I have one more question before I finally answer yours.”

Steve grins. “Lay it on me.”

“Why do you call me ‘bijou’? I know it’s French, and it means jewel. I’m just not clear on the why.” You prop your chin on your free hand and lean across the table towards him. 

The desire to lean in, to close the distance between you, is overwhelming. He longs to learn how soft your lips are against his, but he swallows the desire. Maybe one day real soon, he’ll have earned the privilege. All bets will be off then because he has no doubts that he’ll never want to stop kissing you.

“I took French in high school. Second language requirement. I ended up really liking it. Still pretty decent at it though I don’t practice half as much as I should. Back then, I really wanted to see Paris and be in the City of Love, you know? I got that chance with the army. Spent about a week between tours there and got to see some of the sights, but I’ve always wanted to go back. To really see all the sights. Share it with someone I really care about.”

He stops then, needing the moment to gather himself. For what, he can’t really say. It’s not lost on him that his next words have the power to either woo you or send you running in the opposite direction. All he wants is to keep you as close as you’ll allow for as long as he can.

“When I first saw you, I thought you were an angel. You certainly looked like one that night, but you were also so precious, rare. You took your time that evening learning about Jake. The tip you left was more than generous, even by normal tipping standards. Not once did you ever make someone feel inferior to you. I saw the way you stood up for Peter when that customer tripped him. I’ve never been more impressed with someone who wanted to do what’s right and not for what they might get in return.”

Your hand tightens around his, temporarily stopping him. He sees you blink rapidly. Your attempts to stop the tears are unsuccessful.

Reaching across the table, he gently swipes at the corners of your eyes and offers a smile.

“I don’t think you know how much of an impression you made on all of us that night. You were the most precious jewel I’d ever seen, and I’ve seen the English Queen’s jewels on a brief layover in London once. You don’t know how much I fell for you that night and having been falling ever since.”

His fingers continue to try and stem the flow of your tears leaking freely down your cheeks at his confession. The sweet smile on your face is almost as wondrous as you nuzzling your cheek against his hand, seeking his touch.

With a sniffle, you ask, “Do we really have to wait until Monday for that date?”

“It’s my next day off,” he says with a soft laugh, happy you’re agreeing to go out with him, “but I promise to make it worth the wait.”

A loud round of applause and several whoops echoed through the room.

Steve’s head shot towards the doorway where his entire staff are watching. Bucky stands at the head of the group, two plates in his hands and a wide grin on his face.

“Bout time you finally shoot your shot, punk. Doll here is a real saint for waiting on you so long.”

Steve rolls his eyes, but he doesn’t refute Bucky’s assertion.

“Kiss her already, man,” Sam hollered from behind Nat and Jake.

Before they can start chanting because they would, Steve leans in close to you, whispering, “Is it alright if I kiss you? Not because of these fools, but because I want to.”

Your smile contains a hint of mischief even as you nod.

When he’s within a breath of your lips, you let him know exactly what’s on your mind, whispering, “You know I’m an interior decorator, who’s just gotten a promotion. I could do wonders with this room of yours.  Maybe make it a place to turn the tables on these matchmakers you seem to have.”

“Mon bijou, you can do anything you want as long as I can call you mine.”

His lips touch yours, and you both forget about everything but each other.

Well, at least until Bucky sets your plates down on the table and sends everyone back to work. He’s the first to congratulate you both with hugs and well wishes for your long and happy future together.

*****

Main Masterlist

[animasolaoriginal]

A B A N D O N E D 🥀 1/3

A new-in-town urban explorer stumbles upon a (not so) well hidden secret in an abandoned building, turning his life upside down when he takes more than pictures and leaves more than footprints.

Normal dude meets broken girl turned sex toy

WARNINGS: Urban exploration. Implied past rape. Implied past caning. Wounds and injuries. Objectification. Submissive character. Strangers to lovers. Angst. Hurt/comfort. Fluff. Eventual smut*. (More tags on AO3.) WORDS: 7.6k

A/N: This is a spin-off to my original story INFATUATED, set in the same universe. There's no need to have read INFATUATED, just know that there's a man we refer to as Sir who took in (kidnapped) a girl we refer to as Darling to make her his personal little plaything (but then proceeds to develop “feelings” for her), and this is the story of one of the unfortunate girls before her. A "study" on what a normal dude may think about an abandoned sub. Remember: this is fiction! A product of my own sick little mind, a fantasy. Our guy here may have some opinions later that may or may not stem from my own view on things (just some rants about certain kinks, and if those insult you, please forgive me, I don't mean any kink shaming. Everyone is valid around here – except Sir who might not get the best reviews in this story). By the way, the protagonist may have a name here, but it's only mentioned a few times, so you can still imagine any character here if you want to!

1 🟢 2 🟢 3

Glass crunches beneath his boots as he makes his way through the abandoned building. It's eerily quiet, just the wind howling through the broken windows and holes in the walls. The occasional rustle when debris or dry leaves move under the breeze. Nature's completely reclaimed this old house that used to be an apartment building with a bunch of tiny shops on the ground floor. Too off the beaten path, the shops became obsolete when a large mall opened only a few blocks away.

He's also in a very bad neighborhood, and nobody seemed to care about this particular building for a long time. Overgrown and broken, glass panes a good target practice for your usual teenage delinquent or bored child, doors ripped off their hinges by age and decay and maybe some random angry dude who needed a place to vent. Furniture long gone, either taken along or stolen later, things that couldn't be moved too easily (like sinks or toilet bowls) smashed into tiny pieces.

Normally he prefers places stuck in time, where tragedy struck and nobody's been back in decades, with faded photos on the walls or on dusty shelves, the smell of slowly rotting armchairs and a hint of mold in the air. Those make the best pictures. Little time capsules, evidence of older times, in the midst of a blooming bustling city. This building, however, looked more promising from the outside.

He raises his camera and takes a shot of a broken window where thick vines of ivy crawl around the frame and up the wall, the light of the setting sun giving the scene a soft glow. He changes the angle a few times, then moves on, up the stairs, looks through open doors into old apartments, mostly empty, walls vandalized with crude, unreadable graffiti, carpets full of dirt and a (not so) healthy layer of mold.

What strikes him as a little unusual is that the hallways look as if used fairly often, leaves and dust bunnies line the sides, but there's a path between the debris, leading further up the building. Not too unusual, these kinds of buildings usually attract a lot of shady people or bored teenagers, some to meet for illegal business deals, other to party hard in a place Mom and Dad cannot find them.

Maybe it's used for all kinds of things as he notices a growing abundance of empty soda cans, broken alcohol bottles and other garbage lying around (the most striking sight was a trail of discarded condoms and empty lube bottles). His destination is the roof, maybe he can at least snap some pictures of the sunset and the city around him from this place, for all he got now are shots of broken windows, nature reclaiming the urban space and your typical down-the-hallway shot. He even found the one-single-chair-in-the-middle-of-an-empty-room motif.

Of course he's not the first urbexer to walk through here, it's been abandoned for a long time, probably old news for the locals, but this is his first time here, in the city too, and he wanted to see as many abandoned things as possible. He heard from others that this house had good bones, meaning stable stairs and floors, no risk of breaking through and landing in the moldy basement with a pipe through your torso. He is looking for adventure, the thrill of being alone in a lost place, inhaling the intoxicating scent of debris and decay, he is not looking to pay a horrendous hospital bill because he's been too careless.

He takes the last section of the winding staircase, stepping onto the upper most floor, the roof access visible at the end of the corridor. There he hesitates. Unlike the floors below him, there's something different here. It's not as dirty, and the most prominent thing: all the doors are intact and closed. It almost looks like an actual floor of a still lived-in apartment building where you would find the same amount of dust and grime on the floors and walls.

Raising his camera, he takes a few shots, cursing when he realizes it's too dark to get it lined up best. The only light source is a badly boarded-up window at the end of the hallway, a tiny skylight above him and the glow creeping up over the staircase from the lower levels. Why is this window boarded up? What's happening up here that nobody wants to have witnesses for? There are other buildings around this one, still functional, mostly, probably for seedy reasons as well, but there's still the chance of people noticing what's going on here.

The closed doors irritate him. Everything else about this building was ripped out and broken and vandalized, nothing left in its former state. He came in through a bent-out-of-shape shutter gate, most of the former shops have so many holes it's fairly easy to get access to the rest of the house. And nobody seems to care about people walking about. There's an old No Trespassing sign near the boarded-up front door, but that's about it.

Though it doesn't surprise him in this kind of neighborhood. He might be new in this city, but he knows a crime haven when he sees one. Everything looks old and run down, shops are only fronts for other businesses, grim looking people stand around, gangs linger in groups in neglected parks or on the curb corners. He also saw some prostitutes walking the streets, looking as worn and shabby as the clothes they were wearing. Most normal people would avoid going deeper into the belly of the beast, but he likes the more dangerous places, and frankly, he fits right in.

Tall and bulky, he could pass as one of those bouncers standing in front of shady clubs, but he looks also young enough to be confused with a fresh gang member or mafia initiate or whatever. At least he thinks so because he's gotten no curious stares as he entered the neighborhood. Though he was glad nobody talked to him, his accent would have given him away for sure.

He feels his heart beating faster when he approaches one of the closed doors, the hairs on his arms rising in anticipation. It's a thrill to find something unusual in a place you've already pushed aside and declared boring. His hand grabs the door handle, twists it... and nothing happens. Locked. A locked door in an abandoned building. How curious. He tries the other ones, the same thing occurs. When he reaches the last door, he almost jumps back when the knob turns and the door opens with a click and then a creepy squeak.

One open room on a floor full of locked doors. His breath quickens, but he forces himself to remain calm. He doesn't even know what he's expecting, but it certainly wasn't this. The room is almost bare (but not as empty as the rooms he's seen before), aged wallpaper peels from the walls, the windows are covered by thick curtains, old and rugged looking, there's a couch in one corner, covered in blankets that have seen better days too. But the most unnerving sight is the bed in the middle of the room.

It's literally in the middle of the room, a sturdy looking metal frame he could walk around if he wanted to. But for now he only stares. There are handcuffs chained to the headboard, ropes tied to the low bed posts. And then there are the stains on the old mattress, lighter and darker ones, some are definitely blood. Old and dried, though one looks a little fresher, on the lower part of the bed. He's mesmerized, disgusted but mesmerized, almost forgets the weight around his neck before a shiver crashes through him.

It's an automated gesture to raise his camera and take pictures of what he sees. Pics or it didn't happen. It's a strange sight, but he isn't sure he wants to share this scene on his official page. He's known for showing off decaying architecture and nature reclaiming its place in the world full of stone and people. To share a potential sex dungeon might not be the way to go. But he still has his side blog. He has to share this, work through the experience, hoping somebody knows something about this.

Though he hasn't even seen everything. Slowly he takes a step into the room. There's a table behind the door, a longer one, fit for a person to lie on, and the leather belts attached to it suggest the same. Fuck. Is this really one of those freaky sex rooms?

He doesn't want to imagine what goes on in here, but he can't completely ignore that he has seen similar settings in various porn clips. Echoes of crying girls crash through his mind, creepily leering men in ski masks standing around the bed, the table, the couch, cocks in hand, others holding paddles, canes, vibrators, ready to torment whoever is unfortunate enough to be strapped to the structures.

He wants to believe there's consent involved, a scene being played out, discussed beforehand, those girls willingly trapped with a bunch of horny men, but sometimes it's hard to imagine that anyone would want to go through that on their own free will. He swallows, only now noticing the stench of the room. Sweat and sex, various bodily fluids all around, with a metallic undertone. Blood.

Shivering he can't help himself, he takes more pictures, walks around the room as if treading on thin ice, careful not to disturb the scene. He's also hyper aware of the noises around him now, the low buzz of the city beyond, voices passing by the building, birds landing on the roof above him, pigeons cooing, crows cawing, seagulls screaming. He tells himself he'd hear if somebody came back to clean up the scene he's witnessing right now. He could flee to the roof, hide it out, maybe find a way down from there.

Goosebumps attack his bare forearms when he rounds the bed and notices a pile of blankets on the floor. But it's the hair poking out of it that makes his heart stop. No. He freezes on the spot, staring down, camera heavy in his hand. He's heard stories of other urban explorers encountering unsettling things, the more harmless one coming into contact with a squatter, either awake or passed out in some corner, and the most disturbing one... stepping onto a crime scene, finding blood, bones... or dead bodies.

Yet instead of panicking, with the urge to run as quickly as he can, he finds himself staring with an obscene fascination. His eyes trail the blanket, noticing how it's wrapped around whatever is curled up inside it, and he bends down a little, crouching beside it, the smell overwhelmingly strong down here. His stomach protests, but his curiosity is too obnoxious to ignore. Shifting his camera into his other hand, he reaches out, carefully, knowing he should probably wear gloves, but he also doesn't care. He has to know.

His fingers grip the edge of the blanket, and he pulls, gently, his eyes widening as the scene unfolds in front of him – together with the body of a girl unfurling from its curled-up position. He will never share his first impression with anyone, because it's primal, an instinct, the thought of a man whose cock has a mind of its own: she's pretty.

Also naked, covered in grime and other substances, pale skin adorned with angry red welts and purple bruises, something pink caked between her thighs. She's on her side, legs scissored open, arms bound behind her back. Her thick dark hair is braided into two pigtails, and one of them seems to be cut off as the hair frays out and lies around her head like a dark halo. Tears and sweat allowed a thick layer of dust and dirt to cake to her face. Eyes closed, long dark lashes clumped, full lips swollen and raw looking, slightly parted.

Before he continues taking in every detail of her, he has the urge to bring his finger to her nose, and the relief when he feels the slightest bit of air movement against his skin lets him exhale loudly as well. She is not dead. And there's the problem. She looks like she should be, like it would be the better fate. The sight scares him as much as it fuels his morbid fascination, which may explain why he's still frozen on the spot, staring at her instead of calling the police or an ambulance or doing anything to help her. He can't take his eyes off her.

Her slender neck is covered in dark bruises as if someone has tried to strangle her, probably thought they succeeded too. Why else would she lie on the floor here? Left behind after whoever assaulted her was done? And assaulted she was. Sexually, physically. The welts on her body look horrible, thin red lines all over her small breasts, her stomach, her hips, her thighs, on her ass as well from what he can tell. She was caned, the poor thing. He hates watching those kinds of porn videos. He can see the appeal of spanking, the hand on ass contact, but hitting someone with a rigid cane doesn't seem very pleasurable, it's only about inflicting pain and having evidence of it days later.

A sadistic move, and sadists were definitely at work here. There are more bruises on her thighs, probably from strong hands holding her down and open while various cocks forced themselves into her holes. He feels his cheeks warming up when he takes a closer look at her pussy. Apart from layers upon layers of what he assumes to be cum and other fluids, there are welts and bruises on there too, on the soft skin of her inner thighs, on her puffy outer lips (that look stretched as if held back and open by clamps or whatever these bastards used), but most are on the strangely swollen clit. Ugh. Genital torture, a genre he really hates. Spanking a woman's clit is just downright sick and barbaric.

The more he looks at her, the worse he feels. Not just for what she had to go through, but knowing he can't really help her. How should he? Call the police and wait for other horny men to find her? He never trusted the cops, and in a neighborhood like this he is certain there won't be a good guy among them. Calling an ambulance may be an option, if he does it anonymously and flees the scene quickly, but that leaves him wondering if anyone ever found her. And again, in an area like this, the people who did this may still be around watching the place, stopping help before it can get anywhere, maybe even finishing the job, killing her.

And if he stays and wait, he will be in danger of those people seeing him, and as he now knows too much, even took pictures of the evidence, what's stopping them from killing him too? And even if they don't find him, he fears the damn hospital bill might be his end. Yes, strange priorities, but his brain is buzzing and he feels sick and nauseous the longer he stays in this horrible room, staring down at the poor girl.

She looks younger than him, maybe a few years, maybe a lot, the pigtails give the illusion she might still be a teenager, but her body looks too developed for that. A thin face with high cheekbones, no baby fat, soft albeit small breasts, a narrow waist, plump hips, thighs just rounded enough to create that amazing thigh gap he likes so much. The initial thought is still there, and his cock agrees, she is beautiful, despite the state she is in.

And maybe that's why he forms an idea in his head: why not take her with him? Away from this place, into safety, then assess what help he can get her. She can't stay here, that's for sure. A better man would face the danger of being discovered by her abusers, to make sure she'll get the care she needs, no matter how expensive and uncomfortable it may get. A better man wouldn't crouch beside her limp body and stare and drool.

But he's not. He's a runaway, dropped out of college to party, then got too old and paranoid to return. Too distracted by the world around him. Traveling on a budget, with just enough money to feed himself once a day, couch surfing, loitering, pissing his life away one day at a time. It's only been during the last years that he's gotten a bit more stable, making a name for himself as a photographer, selling prints and doing commissions, and by coming into this city he's hoped to make it even bigger.

Renting an old loft he hopes to transform into a photo studio one day, he's trying to settle down. He still has barely any money, lives off those stupid strangers willing to pay for his pictures even though they're not even that special. He always hopes for the occasional exceptional find, something he could sell to newspapers, but even those prefer to steal their pictures off other people's Instagram instead of paying for a more professional shot. Tough times.

As he crouches next to the unconscious girl, the hand holding his camera twitches. It's an instinct to raise it, bring it in front of his eyes, look through the finder and press his thumb down to take a picture of her. He feels sick for it, but also... not. She's part of this little sex dungeon, the main attraction, actually, and it's an inborn need to burn her image into a bunch of pixels. Pics or it didn't happen. He considers sharing her story with whatever newspaper may want it, but then his name would be attached to the evidence, he could be linked to this scene, and what's stopping any corrupt cop to call him guilty for this? Or the bad guys to come and erase any kind of evidence? Him and her included?

She can't stay here. He can't keep staring at her. Something has to happen.

Before he puts his camera into his backpack, he can't help but take a few more pictures of her, of her wounds and injuries, of the evidence caked to her skin, the blood trailing down her inner thigh. Maybe justice will come one day, but he'll need pictures of the crime scene to make it happen. He also snaps a few shots of her face, peaceful in slumber, of her soft curves, those tiny feet with the ankles covered in rope burn. Those he does in several angles, maybe he has a future in selling feet pics. And it's not his fault the market exists.

The world is a sick place, and he's just trudging along.

Eventually he stores his camera in his backpack, then moves the blanket back around the girl. His hand finds her cheek, and it's warm to the touch, she's certainly still alive, and probably in pain, so he doesn't want to disturb the few quiet moments this cruel world has given her. He wraps her up and scoops her into his arms, a barely there weight, poor thing looks and feels malnourished on top of being treated so horribly.

Lifting her up, he realizes the light has turned from the soft sunset glow into the harsher, darker tones of the street lamps coming to life. Time to go. Maybe her abusers will return soon. He carries her out of the room, she's warm and soft in his arms, head resting against his shoulder, hair and one half of her face peeking out of the blanket cocoon. She's tiny, in comparison and in general, and knowing her fate he feels even worse for her.

His heart clenches by the time he's descended all those stairs, and when he reaches his point of entry, he hesitates. It's one thing to slip into a building during the day, nobody cares about a man with a camera creeping around old houses much, at least not in this kind of area, but knowing this place is frequently used for terrible little sex adventures, he feels uneasy now. The night is fast approaching, and he knows these kinds of things probably happen when the shadows fall.

Looking around, he decides to find another exit, preferably one leading around the back, and luck is on his side when he finds a broken window looking into a backyard filled with black trash bags. With the girl still in his arms, he climbs through, but slips on something at the last second. Curling his back, trying not to harm her further, he feels his backpack scraping over the rough wall, hoping it didn't damage his camera. It's one of his few prized possessions, but thinking about it, maybe he should reconsider his priorities.

He's carrying a life in his arms, a life he intends to save, so a broken camera, a replaceable thing, really isn't that big of a deal. He can always salvage the SD card inside anyway. No harm done. Rolling his shoulders, he shifts her against his chest, then continues through the dark alley. He's parked the hunk of metal he calls his car a few blocks away, at the edge of the neighborhood, hoping he'll still have all tires when he returns.

And indeed they are all there, as full and dirty as he's left them. The old truck was the last thing he could afford after renting out the loft, so even if he's bound to this city, relying on random strangers to finance his life, he has a means to get away if he has to. For now, he's pulling the passenger door open and carefully puts down the bundle of limbs and hair and blankets, and when he does, she suddenly stirs.

He freezes, staring at her as her eyelids flutter open. A soft groan escapes her, but when her wide eyes, beautiful dark irises, glazed and a little dull, but beautiful nonetheless, meet his, she stiffens too, lips parted, and he expects a scream, a distress call, anything, but she doesn't issue a single peep, just looks at him, almost calm, probably just glad she's still alive or thinking she died and woke up in a weird realm between the worlds where it's normal to wake up in unfamiliar places, facing unfamiliar people.

He still feels the need to calm her. “Hey, it's alright. No need to be afraid, I'm not here to harm you. I want to help you, okay? Do you understand?”

She blinks, her lips trembling, but then she utters a barely audible “Yes, sir”, and he feels his heart jumping a little. To his own shame, his cock does the same. He clears his throat, nods to her, then closes the door with a thud and rounds the car, putting his backpack into the covered truck bed. Her eyes are following him when he slips behind the wheel, despite her slouched position on the seat. She's eerily quiet, not at all concerned about a strange man packing her into his car.

He watches her as he pulls the seat belt over her small frame, then buckles himself in. “You'll be alright,” he says softly, giving her the hint of a smile, and she continues staring at him. She must be in shock, no other way to explain this behavior, probably fighting the pain coursing through her, the soreness and burning, the stickiness between her thighs, the memory of the whole ordeal. He can't blame her. It must have been absolute hell.

He starts the car, glad it does so on the first try, and maneuvers it back into the nightly city traffic until they reach the old warehouse at the edge of it. It's the cheapest he could find, between two concerning neighborhoods, but those are still better than the one he found her in. At least he has running water and electricity, and a bed. Hmm. One bed. He'll give it to her for now, trying to squeeze his big body onto the small couch. It'll work.

She's still only staring at him when he unbuckles her and picks her up, though her breaths are a bit more labored. Maybe the shock is fading, letting through the pain more and more. He hums soothingly to her, tells her it'll be alright, knowing the more he'll repeat that, the more she'll believe it. It's his life motto too, fake it till you make it. She's that pliant body in his arms as he carries her to the old elevator, hoping it'll last another day.

When he reaches his apartment door, he shifts her in his hold, and she winces, a horribly pathetic little sound he hopes never to hear again. “Sorry,” he mutters as he fumbles for his key and unlocks the door. “You'll feel better soon, I promise.”

Her warm breath hits his neck as she presses her face closer against him, a strangely submissive gesture, a naive hope to trust a stranger. He takes her straight to the bathroom, where he sets her on the closed toilet lid and slowly unravels the blanket from around her. She's sitting perfectly still, the only movement coming from her almost curious eyes as she watches his every move. She winces when he brushes against the welts on her skin, chest rising and falling a little faster, but that's about all the motion he gets from her.

When the blanket falls away, she's that naked thing covered in sweat and cum and blood, and it occurs to him what a strange situation this is. For him to just take her away, without informing anyone, authority or not, and for her to just accept it like this. She's awake, maybe a little dazed, but conscious enough that a normal girl would stir more, talk more, fuss and strain against his touches, maybe even try to flee or do anything to ensure her own safety.

But she is just sitting there, arms folded behind her back, watching him. She doesn't seem real. Like a robot. A brainless toy... And it occurs to him, that might just be what she is, what she has been. A body to use, handed around between vulgar men, an object to utilize in their sick fantasies turned reality. Of course he's no stranger to the news, especially the darker ones, those about trafficking and forced sex work, even if those stories barely make it past the usual political drama. It's another one of those morbid fascinations he can't seem to break.

He might just be as sick as those actually partaking in these illegal little sex gatherings, he's watched those videos, even though he's handled them like any other porn he's come across. As fake, a scene played out, a fantasy made as real as movie magic can make it, but to find this girl in this room, discarded and abandoned like a broken doll, left behind after everyone else was done and satisfied in their twisted, primal needs, shows him that those were not scenes, not fake, but brutal reality. It makes him angry.

“Can you stand?” he asks her quietly, tilting his head as he towers over her, and she nods, looking up at him, before straining her bruised body when she tries to move. His hands find her elbows, and she flinches, but lets him pull her onto her feet. “Oh fuck, your arms, I forgot,” he presses out, and quickly leans back to grab a pair of scissors off the counter behind him, then carefully moves around her to cut through the ropes holding her wrists and forearms together. When he's done, he lets her go, and she sways, arms flailing a little, her hands twitching as if she wants to hold onto him. He guides her into the shower, then steps back. She turns around immediately, eyes wide. “Do you need help?”

She bites her swollen lip. “Please,” she croaks, and the hoarse sound of her voice breaks his heart (but also thickens his cock). He nods, swallows hard, trying to fight the strange warmth pooling in his stomach, before he toes off his boots, strips off his hoodie and jeans, then steps behind her in just his boxers. He wants to show her he's not a predator, but he also doesn't want to get his only good pair of jeans wet and dirty. One day he'll be able to afford another one.

He grabs the shower head and turns the knobs on the wall, waiting for the water to heat up. She's shivering, her frail little body so tiny in front of him, one hand rubbing up and down the other arm, a mindless gesture, trying to ease her nerves probably. Her eyes, however, stay on him and his every move, very attentive, almost eager. It should feel a little bit more bizarre to share a shower with a girl he's just met (or rather found), but it's as if he's running on instincts, feeling the need to help her, make her feel better, ease her pain.

The steam fills his nostrils, and when he puts the water jet to her shoulder, she winces, flinches away, lets out a little whine, but ultimately returns under the spray and lets him clean the grime and sweat and other substances off her skin. He's careful not to put too much pressure on her bruises and the welts, and is glad they didn't break her skin, even though they look horrible, shining in a bright red as if the blood is pulsing just beneath her pale skin.

When he lowers the shower head to point it between her thighs, he hesitates, looks at her, but all she does is take a little side step and spreads her legs a bit more to allow him to do so. So fucking obedient, it's almost scary. The grime on her inner thighs is so persistent that he has to move his hand over her skin before he realizes he should probably use a wash cloth. Stepping back, he leans around the open door and grabs a small towel, wets it and then proceeds to rub the dirt (and cum and other things he doesn't want to think more about) off her thighs. She whines quietly when he moves the soft cloth over her folds, and he holds his breath, trying to be as gentle as he can be.

When he touches her clit though, she shudders and gasps, legs trembling, and her hand is on his arm then, holding on tightly, with a strength he wouldn't have expected from her. He watches how her eyes roll back, how her lips part and a little moan escapes her, and he just freezes, wash cloth pressed to her sensitive nub, unintentionally drawing a strange little orgasm out of her. Was she trained to be this sensitive, so responsive? To come on touch alone? He didn't even rub that hard.

He takes the cloth away slowly, and she calms down a little, breathing just a bit harder, but when her eyes meet his, she furrows her brows, bites her lip, mumbles a croaked “Sorry” as she lowers her head. He frowns at that, tilting his head.

“Nothing to apologize for,” he says quietly. “I... uh, didn't mean to do that either...”

Is she one of those poor girls who was bound to their master's (or whatever the man called himself who had her) will, to only do as he told her, to come on command, and to feel bad if she does so without permission? What a horrible fate... He would never ask her to hold her orgasm, he would want to see that reaction over and over again, allowing her all the pleasure she can get. Not that he'll ever want to do anything to her, but... in theory, of course.

He keeps cleaning her then, lets the warm water soak her bruised skin, and she just stands there, chin tilted up, eyes closed, wet hair cascading down her back, hanging over her shoulders, one side shorter than the other (how cruel to take away something from her, even as benign as part of her braid, but it's definitely crueler to treat her like a soulless body, and he's glad she's not missing any fingers or limbs instead).

Considering, her state could be worse. She's standing on her own, breathing just fine, she's probably very sore and aching, but the pain will fade and she could have a normal life after this, more or less, not counting the psychological trauma that seems to still hold her hostage. Well, it's not ideal, and maybe death would have been a relief after the torment, but she's young, she can work through this, it's possible. And maybe he can help her cope...

Looking at her petite frame, he feels his stomach tensing. It's wrong to feel like this, he knows it, he shouldn't even allow the smallest little thought into that direction, but he is just a man after all, standing with a naked young woman in his shower, and it's blatantly obvious what his cock thinks about this whole situation. He hopes she doesn't notice the tent in his boxers.

But he shouldn't worry, she doesn't seem to notice much, standing still under the spray of the water, and when he turns it off eventually, deeming her clean enough, she inhales deeply and opens her eyes, blinking away stray water drops. She remains immobile, and while he turns to grab a towel, she doesn't move an inch. When he starts drying her off, rougher than he intends, but his hands feel like they are shaking from the tension growing inside him, she winces a couple of times, but then presses her lips together and endures.

He's watching her like a hawk, apologizes for accidentally hurting her, tries to be as gentle as possible, and her eyes are glued to his face, not completely focused yet, still glazed and hazy, pupils blown for some reason, her gaze almost curious. What a strange little creature. He'd expected a victim of whatever type of rape she's experienced to be more... hysterical?

When he finally wraps the towel around her small body and another one around her damp hair, she seems to relax even more. Then she opens her mouth.

“Thank you, sir,” she whispers, looking up at him before bowing her head.

He stares at her, blinking in confusion. “Uh, you're welcome,” he says. “But, uh, you can call me Sam, okay? I'm Sam. No need for... honorifics or whatever, you know?”

There's a frown on her face when she looks back up, her lips moving as if she's repeating his name in her mind.

“What's your name?” he then asks, leaning against the sink as he watches her.

The frown deepens, her eyes moving away from him, flickering here and there as if she tries to find the answer somewhere in his bathroom. “I...” she starts, eyebrows furrowed before she exhales deeply, her shoulders sagging. “It doesn't matter,” she then replies.

“Huh?” he makes, staring at her. “What do you mean it doesn't matter? I'm sure you have a name. Did you forget?” He kicks himself mentally for assuming as much and for his harsh tone, but it's ridiculous.

She shakes her head, not to say no, but to clear her mind maybe? It's a frantic gesture. “It doesn't matter. I don't matter. I am... I am yours to... to use,” she mutters under her breath, hands clenching into fists at her sides.

“What now?” He gapes at her.

And then she is suddenly on her knees in front of him, the towel falling away, her small body folded with her hands lying neatly on her lap, her chin tilted up, looking at him with big eyes. “Please use me,” she says quietly.

He takes a step back, bumping into the cupboard next to the sink, staring down at the girl. Is she serious? He shakes his head, then walks back and grabs her elbows. “Come on, get up, no need to kneel before me, okay? Get up!”

His harsher, also slightly agitated tone makes her wince, but she's on her feet immediately, letting him pull her up, then stands stock-still before him, head lowered, a soft little whine escaping her. “I'm sorry...”

“Stop apologizing!” He lets go of her and runs a hand through his hair, sighing deeply. “I mean, ugh, wow. I'm sorry, too. You must be... well, you've been through so much, I don't mean to scare you or anything, I just...”

“Please,” she mumbles, breathing a little harder. She's shivering without the towel, the one on her head coming undone as well the more she shimmies on the spot. He stares at her, she has her hands clasped in front of her sex and squeezes her thighs together, small breasts squished, nipples erect, a deep blush almost hiding the red welts on her skin. “Please use me,” she then says again.

“No!” he blurts out, and she flinches, another sob escaping her. He groans. “I mean, come on! I will not just use you, I just met you, I found you! In that freaky sex room after you've been...” He stops when he suddenly meets her gaze. Her pupils are fully dilated, her already dark eyes shining entirely black. “You're in no condition to do anything but relax now, okay? Take it easy. Come on, I'll show you the bed.”

He's about to grab her hand when she turns her shoulder, avoiding his touch. He freezes, frowns. “In... no condition? Am I... not good... anymore?” Her voice is that feeble little hum, a desperate song sending shivers down his spine.

“What? No! You are good, you are perfect, you are so beautiful!” he croaks out, unable to stop the words. She tilts her head, blinking. “I mean, yeah, uh, you are, but that's not what I mean. You are... Look, whoever treated you like this, whoever hurt you, just left you there. And I couldn't not take you, you know? I want to help you, do you understand that? I want you to feel good again after –”

“Then use me,” she whispers, breathing harder, hands falling away from the obedient pose as she rubs them up and down her thighs, still squirming on the spot. “Please, it hurts...”

“Of course it hurts, they hit you with a fucking cane! They raped you!” he shouts, a little too loud, his emotions getting the better of him.

She flinches back, gasping with her lips parting, her eyes wide. “No... no, they were... they had to punish me because I... I was bad... I deserved it... and they... they used me like they should use me...”

Her words are mumbled, but he can still hear them, even though he wishes he couldn't. What a sick way of seeing things. What a fucked-up world where a pretty girl like her has these thoughts planted into her head.

Anger makes him clench his hands into fists. “They shouldn't have done that. You are a human being, a young woman, a beautiful girl, not a doll to play with, not a toy to use!”

She stares at him, eyelids fluttering, chest rising and falling faster, small breasts bouncing. Really not the time to notice that, mate!

“But,” she whispers, wincing slightly as she starts chewing on her lips. “But that... that's my purpose... I am... I am yours to use,” she repeats these last five words like something she had to learn without knowing the meaning behind it.

He approaches her slowly, carefully, his big hands find her small shoulders, and the touch makes her look up at him. “You are your own person. You have a name, even if you can't remember it right now, you had a mother and a father, maybe even siblings. You went to school, you had a job, maybe. You had dreams, everyone has dreams, for the future, things you wanted to have, places you wanted to see. You are not just a body for strange men to use. Not like that. Not without consent! You were not made to be punished, to be hurt because some random sicko gets off on it. Your body is so much more than just... holes to fill... and a canvas to soil with bruises and welts and... cum...”

His voice has become calmer, like a mantra, new thoughts to plant into her muddled brain, so he hopes, and she listens with her lips parted, eyes directly looking at him. Sometimes she frowns, sometimes she blinks, and when he finishes she licks her lips.

“But I want this,” she says quietly. “I want to be used...”

He sighs deeply and lowers his head, then shakes it in frustration. “No, somebody told you you should think like that! Nobody in their right mind wants to be raped and mutilated like that!”

A single sob makes him look up, and he lets go of her, straightening up. Her lips are trembling and her eyes watering before tears stream down her face. He lets out a groan.

“I'm sorry,” he grunts. “I didn't mean it like that! You are valid, whatever you want, of course, but... but you gotta agree it's a little strange?” She only cries harder, her small frame shaking. “Okay, look, no kink shaming or whatever, I just... I assumed, the way you were lying in that room, the state you were in, I thought you needed help! You looked horrible! I was about to call the police!”

She freezes at that, staring up at him. “No,” she gasps. “Don't do that! Please! I... I don't want any trouble... I... I'll do anything, but... please... not the police!”

He raises an eyebrow at that. This reaction surprises him. “Why not?” he asks, crossing his arms in front of his chest. She averts her eyes, breathing harder. He isn't very fond of them either, but why wouldn't she? Why would she prefer being gang raped and beaten and strangled over calling for help?

She presses her lips together, doesn't say a thing. For a moment they are both silent, standing in the bathroom, the naked girl and the guy with his tented boxers. Even now his cock doesn't agree with him. But he doesn't care about it anymore. This is a mystery he wants to unravel.

“Tell me,” he says, tone harsher, pointedly. She seems to reply better to commands.

And it seems to work. “He said he'd kill me if I talked to them,” comes her quiet answer, spoken to the tiled floor.

“He? He who?” he asks, his arms falling to his sides.

“Sir,” she replies, her shoulders shaking.

“Sir? Who calls himself Sir? Who is that? The man who did this to you?”

She shakes her head. “No. He... he found me, he took me in, and then... he... he sent me away because I was... a bad girl and he... he... they...” A series of sobs escapes her before her hands fly up to cover her face. Her cries pierce his heart. “Why did he send me away? What did I do?” she wails softly, muffled from behind her hands. “I was a good girl... always a good girl... did everything he said...”

He can't watch it anymore. While his rage for this unknown man grips his insides, he steps forward and pulls her against him, arms wrapped around her shuddering form, but she keeps crying, lets it all out, desperate and heartbreaking. He scoops her up and carries her to the bedroom, her tears hot on his skin, her whines loud in his ears.

Putting her down carefully, he pulls the blanket over her naked body and tucks her in, gently rubbing her side as she curls in on herself, continuing to cry miserably.

“Please stop crying,” he whispers, sitting down on the edge of the bed, hand still on her hip. “I'm sorry he treated you like that. But he let you go, you said so, so why don't you use that as a chance to move on, look ahead, find a new Sir? Or live your life without any man for a while? I'm sure that's nice too...”

She stares at him from under her clumped lashes, momentarily paused in her sobbing, only to cry out again when he suggests moving on. He sighs, letting her wail and whine until hiccups shake her form. She's not calming down, but she gets quieter, and he stands up then, walking down the stairs into the kitchen to get some water and a snack. When he returns, she's lying on her side, staring blankly ahead, eyes reddened, face flushed and wet, but she's stopped crying for the moment.

He sits back down on the edge and holds the water glass to her face. “Come on, drink something. Please.” She doesn't even look at him. He exhales loudly and puts the glass on the bedside table. “Fine. Well, it's there if you want it. I also brought some crackers, maybe you're hungry. I can get more later. Or just sleep, you definitely need that. Rest, get better, and tomorrow we'll figure something out, okay?”

She doesn't give a reply, and he shakes his head and leaves again, settling on the lumpy couch under the stairs, his eyes drifting back up to the loft area every now and then. He falls asleep thinking it was probably a bad idea taking this girl with him. For his sake. What if she is so sick in the head she'll stand over him with a knife in the middle of the night? Great thought to slumber over, really.

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End notes: *And this was the plot part of our story, stay tuned for the sex frenzy to begin in the next chapter!

There will be three chapters in total, I'll upload every Wednesday.

Thank you for joining me on another little original story I needed to get out of my system.

AO3 / / / MASTERLIST

[absolutebl]

Hi! I wanted to ask your opinion about the possibily of a second season of the on1y one...

How much (if at all) do you think it's affected by whether it would be worth it to Liu Dong Qin (and anybody who's based in mainland China) ?

What I mean by that is, the first season has kissing and men crushing on each other, but it could reasonably be sold as "in the end they realize it's wrong" to mainland, right? (which is a good reason for 2 seasons and ending the first where they did, testing the waters before diving in)

On the other hand, the second season would have the relationship becoming fruitful (they've said the script has a lot of kissing) which would make fans happy but mainland likely not so much. In which case they might retaliate against cast, crew, etc...

So would there be a sweet spot where the series is just popular enough to get a second season but also mainland to turn a blind eye? (w/o censoring it to hell or making it tragic)

Or do you thing Dong Qin and others would say "to hell with it" and risk it as long as there's enough sponsors to make it feasible/profitable?

Sorry for the rambling and thank you for all you do for bl in tumblr ❤️

Yes yes yes, but let's skip all that a return to the basics. Stats don't lie the way production houses do.

Taiwan = 58 BLs, 1 of which got a second season (and WBL 1&2 were filmed back to back)

Odds on a second season from Taiwan? 2% favorable

China = 48 BLs, 37 of which are censored or unhappy endings

Odds on an HEA from China? 8% favorable prior to censorship, less than that post 2016 censorship

What does that mean?

We have a less than 8% chance of any second season they give us being happy (if they take CCP into account), but the chances of that second season actually happening at all are already less than 2%.

Thus, I calculate the odds of us getting a second season of On1y One with an HEA at approximately 0.1%

It's like they totally forgot the lesson that HIStory 3 The BL That Shall Not Be Named taught them.

But that doesn't mean we should.

I don't mean to bring up the worst gut punch ever delivered in BL fandom OF ALL TIME. But never forget, that show also came from Taiwan.

I mean Blossom happened and I was forced to eat crow so it's not impossible. Just very very improbable.

(source)

[qatheauthoress74]

Transformers One Spoiler Review

There are so many spoliers in this review. I am not kidding when I saw go watch the film (five times at least) before reading this. Okay? Good.

I’m gonna be honest here. Growing up I wasn’t all that invested in the Transformers franchise as other kids were. I ocasionally watched a random episode of Transformers Animated or Prime whenever they were on TV back in the day but I wasn’t what you’d call a fan. All that changed after I watched Bumblebee (2018) on a whim and it changed my brain chemistry in the best way. Seriously, that film is still one of my comfort movies and I love it so much that I even began to write fanfiction again with several TF fics, including my Riding A Sunset story (https://archiveofourown.org/works/17648414/chapters/41617823).

But before Bumblebee, theatrical Live Action Transformer films had the infamous status of being bad to downright terrible for overusing bland human characters over the Autobots or Decepticons as well as being very inconsistent with their own established continuity. Not to mention making some characters act very out of character. Seeing a film like Bumblebee helped me believe that filmmakers are capable of telling a story that not only respects the lore but also genuinely cares about substance over spectacle outside of the well-made fight scenes. That was why I wanted to give Rise of the Beasts a chance when it came out but I was sadly a little underwhelmed. It is still better than any of the Transformer films Micheal Bay directed, but personally, that’s like saying the Eukrea 7 film “Pocket Full of Rainbows” is better than E7: Ao and the follow-up film trilogy, which isn’t saying much. Again, that’s just me and my biased opinion. Which is the whole point of this review.

But believe me when I say I did want to give Transformers One a chance. I was hopeful after learning it was going to be fully animated and would actually focus on the Transformers instead of some random humans. So, what kind of plot would the film be about it’s a prequel set on Cybertron?

Well…

Plot: The premise is the origin of the mighty leaders of the Autobots and Decepticons, Optimus Prime and Megatron, and how the two factions would eventually fight over control of their home planet, Cybertron. Both started as lowly miners unable to transform into vehicles like the other half of their race can and so are forced to work day in and day out in their underground home of Iacon City to collect the fuel source known as Energon. The reason they need to do so is because 50 cycles before the events of the story the leaders of Cybertron, The Primes, died in a war against an alien race called the Quintessons. After they were killed an important relic known as the Matrix of Leadership disappeared and it led to the Energon dwindling until it could only be found deep under the planet’s surface. Without Energon, the Cybertronians would perish, which is why Orion Pax (Optimus Prime’s identity before he became a Prime) wants to find out what happened to the Matrix of Leadership. The current leader of the Cybertronians, Sentinel Prime, is trying to find it out on the surface but has been unable to do so. D-16 (Megatron’s original name) would rather keep his head down but constantly gets dragged into whatever zany scheme Orion has come up with at the moment. Thanks to unintentionally antagonizing a Cybertronian named Darkwing the two get dumped into the lowest place imaginable and meet an overly talkative but friendly bot called B-127 (aka Bumblebee). There they discover a warped message from one of the fallen Primes, Alpha Trion, calling for aid. Orion sees this as an opportunity to find a clue to where the Matrix might be and convinces D and Bee to help him reach the surface and inadvertently brings along Elita-1, Pax and D’s former boss, who recently lost her job thanks to them breaking protocol to save another miner’s life. The four bots end up discovering Alpha Trion’s unconscious body and manage to wake him up. He reveals to them that Sentinel is not what he seems and tells them a horrible truth:

Sentinel was never a Prime and was the one responsible for killing the original Primes with help from the Quintessons.

And all of the Energon the Cybertronians have been mining was being given to the Quintessons by Sentinel as a form of hush money to keep them from revealing his true colors to the Cybertronians. The heroes later learn that he was also the one responsible for taking their cogs as newborns so they could never have the freedom to be anything else but miners. The story then goes to show how Orion, Elita, and Bee want to bring Sentinel to justice while D (who gets slowly consumed by his deeply suppressed anger) wants to seek vengeance against Sentinel for what he has done and kill him for his crimes. The story gradually unfolds as lines are drawn, and tragically, the beautiful friendship between Orion and D ends with them becoming bitter enemies under their new personas, Optimus and Megatron. The story ends bittersweetly with Optimus inspiring his former fellow miners into becoming Autobots and bringing Energon back to the planet as soon as he was given the Matrix after he sacrificed himself trying to save Sentinel from D/Megatron’s wrath. He also gave the miners their T-Cogs back, restoring their freedom and autonomy in the process. The story ends with Optimus sending out a message to the Quintessons, telling them he and the Autobots will be ready to face them when they return. Meanwhile, Megatron forms a new faction consisting of the previous members of the dead Prime’s honor guard and calls them Decepticons to remind themselves to never be deceived by anyone again.

Characters/Voices: The film even leans heavily on established lore from pretty much all of the comics, the Aligned Continuity, some Live Action stuff, and Transformers Animated. I wasn’t even that bothered by the celebrity voice cast. Don’t get me wrong, I will always choose professional VAs over celebrities anytime, but I genuinely thought everyone did a great job, especially Chris Hemsworth as Orion/Optimus and Brian Tyree Henry as D-16/Megatron. Henry said in interviews he was using his experience as an activist in college as inspiration for how resentful and angry D-16/Megatron sounded in wanting to change things and I say he succeeded. Hemsworth had done his homework by consulting with THE Optimus Prime himself, Peter Cullen. I personally like to believe Cullen shared his “how I became Optimus Prime story” which is summed up by how Optimus should “Be Strong Enough To Be Gentle.” I The reason I think that is because I felt it in Hemsworth’s performance, especially at the end of the film. I loved how they gradually sounded more like Optimus and Megatron as the story progressed. Which is both amazing and heartbreaking at the same time because you could see from the start how close Orion and D-16 were to each other before learning about the truth.

Other standouts include Laurence Fishburne as Alpha Trion. He gave the Prime a grand presence that almost reminds me of James Earl Jones as Mufasa from The Lion King. RIP.

Scarlett Johansen was great as Elita-1, but I already had zero doubts since she had experienced voice acting before this film.

Vanessa Liguori did a great job of giving Airachnid a sinister personality. And I have no idea who this “Jon Bailey” is, but he certainly gave Soundwave an “Epic” voice that I liked. ;)

Steven Buscemi as Starscream was a delightful surprise, even if I learned way more about Starscream’s kinks in this film than I would like, but hey, if he likes getting hit and choked, I won’t kink shame him.

Jon Hamm made me hate Sentinel so much. Give him an Oscar, please.

Now, the one actor who I was a bit wary of was Keegan-Michael Key as B-127/Bee. Bee has quickly become one of my favorite Transformers thanks to Bumblebee (2018), and I was worried Key would make him unbearable to sit through. But as I said earlier, the script (and possibly the voice director) made Bee come off as annoying in a “doesn’t know better” kind of way that almost leans to obnoxious but more akin to a hyperactive young adult who’s happy to have friends. Heck, the film even knows his voice could get annoying and made several funny jokes surrounding it. Also, the film knew to only have Bee talk too much during scenes that were supposed to be funny. When it came to the more quiet moments Bee was about to take things seriously as well as the rest of the characters. And yes, I noticed Steve Blum was the racer announcer and archive guard. He did amazing as per usual. No notes.

Animation: I can’t stress enough how beautiful the animation for this film is. Industrial Light & Magic did an excellent job with the animation and I hope to see them do another Transformers film like this again. I loved the way Iacon City was designed.

The director, Josh Cooley, said the filmmakers were inspired by the Art Deco movement and you can see it from how the buildings look. It gives off a Metropolis meets Blade Runner in the best way. I also liked the way the roads and rail tracks would “magically” appear when someone was driving on them. And the way the planet’s mountains moved was also nice to look at.

And this is something that my mom liked while she watched the film was how Alpha Trion used sand to show the past and what happened to the Primes. (Who knew Alpha Trion was an Earthbender? XD)

One touch that I really like was when after the quartet learns of Sentinel’s alliance when the Quintessons you can see D-16 is sitting further away from the others and has his back facing them. A subtle sign showing the growing distance between him and the heroes. And the way his optics gradually changed from gold, orange, and finally to red was done very well. Also, when Orion reunited with the miners he made sure to kneel so he wasn’t towering over them. It’s a nice way that show how humble he truly is compared to Sentinel and later Megatron. And I didn’t expect this film to get violent, but the shot of Megatron killing Sentinel by pulling him apart was brutal. The film did not kid around with its PG rating.

Nitpicks:

If I could complain about a few things I would say that I wished the film had a slightly longer runtime. At least 10-15 more minutes in the third act. I would’ve loved to see more of the final battle with the miners fighting Sentinel’s soldiers and Optimus vs. Megatron. I did mean it when I said Hemsworth and Henry killed it as Optimus and Megatron. But hey, if their performances were that good it definitely convinced me to go see the next film with them in it.

I would’ve liked to have seen other animals on Cybertron’s surface besides those metal deer but that’s just me.

Also, this is just a me thing again, but I kinda wished the miner characters (or minors XD) had more distinct voices. It’s just that since the Generation 1 cartoon, all of the Autobots were known for having unique accents like Ironhide’s southern drawl, Wheeljack’s Brooklyn accent, or Jazz’s smooth way of speaking. I mean, if the High Guard/Decepticons were allowed to have voices based on their original counterparts the Autobots should’ve had the same thing, ya know?

And how dare they tease me with namedropping “Medic Ratchet” but not actually have him appear in the film. I want my grumpy doc-bot. And Drift. I don’t think I saw Deadlock with the High Guard. Did anyone? I think I mostly just saw Seekers and Coneheads in the crowd shots.

HC/Theories:

The reason mining Energon was so dangerous had to do with Primus himself deliberately trying to halt it as much as possible. Think about it, Primus sent the Matrix of Leadership away before Sentinel could use it. I bet Primus didn’t want Sentinel to give Energon to the Quintessons which Sentinel ended up doing by making Cybertronians mine for it. Primus also probably made the mountains move while the group was on the train because we later learn it was full of Energon and not waste like Elita initially thought. Primus has been trying to undermine Sentinel’s plans all this time but probably couldn’t do too much damage as he didn’t want to hurt innocent Cybertronians in the process. And another thing to add is the fact that it looks like the planet itself is moving after Orion was dropped by D-16/Megatron so that Primus himself would bring him to the planet’s core and bring him to life as Optimus Prime because he knew the young miner was worthy of the Matrix.

I’m pretty sure Jazz became one of the first Autobots because he wanted to show his appreciation to Optimus for saving his life earlier in the film.

I like to think the reason why B talked so much in One was probably to make up for the fact that he barely talked at all in previous TF films. Though, there is another theory going around that in the next movie, the filmmakers are planning to make him mute which is why he talks alot in One. I seriously hope that WON’T happen because I’m sick and tired of Bee losing his voice so often. I know some later shows have avoided this, namely Robots in Disguise (2015) and EarthSpark, but I would seriously love the films to follow the same example.

Overall: I love this movie a lot. I’m pretty sure if this was my first time seeing it instead of Bumblebee (2018) I think this would’ve altered my brain chemistry as much as that film did. If you haven’t seen this movie go watch it and if you have, go see it again. I WANT this movie to do well in theaters and not be a failure. The fact that it took us this long to get a film that captures the Spark of Transformers and be something both fans and newcomers can enjoy is nothing short of a miracle. We need Hasbro and Paramount to know this and Bumblebee are the kind of content we want to keep seeing and not the same movie with “Bayhem” over and over again.

Thank you. I’m already writing another blog about this movie soon. It’s going to be about why TF: One is a better Wish movie than Wish (2023). Trust me, it’ll make sense once I post it. XD

Keep on Writin’ and Rockin’

[colfy-wolfy]

So, update on that one post i made (that i did NOT expect to get so much attention) about wanting to write a fic about monk and survivor's parents and third sibling... yes I'm working on it!

It's taking a while though since I keep procrastinating and I want this first chapter to be as perfect as possible. But because I'm feeling nice, here's a little snip of the beginning of the first chapter, immediately after monk's intro!

The fic will be titled "The Residual Pup"

any constructive criticism is welcome, I don't have anyone to help me proofread rn.

More yapping about my fic below cut, if anyone's curious

Yes, the slugs will have dialogue, they have their own special language in my headcanon.

This fic will be primarily focused on family dynamics and might be a little.. "fierce" in terms of family relationships. This is a crumbling rat family and its not all cupcakes and rainbows... sorry, I like angst. I'm not 100% sure how harsh I wanna make this but just incase, if you find mildly abusive, controlling or broken families triggering, I would not recommend. this'll be mostly based off my own experience with my own family.

in my HC, Slugcats have a simple naming convention, similar to the way they're named in the campaigns, its usually names given by their family or peers based off their appearance or occupation/what they're known for.

The parents are named "Father Coral" for the pink slug and "Father Ivory" for the white slug. The third Sibling was simply called "the Blue One" before the incident where they were named "the Residual (pup)" after.

Most pups are named "the (Color) One" before they grow up and the slugs around them end up referring to them by what they're mostly known for. There is no official agreed name for each slugcat so usually some slugcats end up having multiple (nick)names.

Think that's all I want to say without spoiling the entire chapter... If you have questions, feel free to ask :D

[camellcat]

lose my mind every time the doctor takes rose's last name in fics. brilliant, amazing, splendid, absolutely perfect.

like, what do you MEAN she'd be the one to change her last name? he doesn't even HAVE a bloody name like us! plus, she's rose tyler. you think he's going to want that to be different? it's the doctor and rose tyler in the tardis (or I suppose whatever they do in pete's world, but that's still the doctor and rose tyler having their new adventure)!!

she's rose tyler and he is whatever-he-wants tyler. end of discussion. the whole pond diabolical should've been clue enough imo

[that-was-anticlimactic]

i will never understand how or why the httyd movies did the books such an injustice.

the movies aren't even an adaptation - they stole the name of the series, the name of some of the characters and places, and the general idea that there are dragons. honestly, i would be fine with the movies and maybe even like them if they didn't capitalize off of cressida cowell's incredible books that never get any credit.

the books are an amazing story about the cycle of violence and how vengeance and revenge is dangerous. hiccup says that the past is a ghost story, one we need to learn from to better ourselves. the books are about how everyone deserves freedom, how every creature, every being on the earth deserves to be free. we see that in the slavemark, with the dragons.

and like... hiccup is so different. they did him a severe injustice. he's scrawny and intelligent and learned to talk to dragons simply by observing them! he chooses kindness first above all else; instead of yelling at toothless to train him, he is kind. and in the end, that kindness is why toothless chose to save him. bc even toothless himself says that dragons are inherently selfish creatures who care only for their survival. hiccup is brave - his beliefs differ drastically from both the vikings and the world.

hiccup is a child who chose to do the right thing even at the expense of himself. he agreed to free the slaves on nobert's ship, and in return, they gave him the slavemark which is easy to give but cannot be removed. he was like twelve. and having the slavemark means he cannot be with his tribe or his family, it means he isn't considered a human being anymore. and he keeps it a secret for awhile until it's revealed and when it is everyone turns their backs on hiccup. his family, his tribe, his mentor, people he TRUSTED. everyone except fishlegs, and, once she got over the shock, camicazi. he was thirteen. and even when he lost his memories and was really injured, he persisted. he was told to go to tomorrow and to save the dragons and he did bc in his heart he knew it was right even though he didn't know who he was or how he got there.

and fishlegs,,, oh my god FISHLEGS!!! the did him SO DIRTY!!! fishlegs is hiccup's best friend, one of the main motivators for hiccup. he steals norbert's potato for the sake of fishlegs, he gives fishlegs his dragon and goes to retrieve another, he takes the blame for fishlegs. and fishlegs does the same for him. he takes the slavemark with pride. he refuses to turn. he gives hiccup his lobster claw necklace which is his most prized possession. he is brave for hiccup, he believes hiccup is alive. he fights for hiccup harder than anyone else ever has. he does not turn. his is loyal, has allergies, has asthma, has a squint and a limp, has glasses bc he's blind without them... and he's still a hero despite being a runt, despite everyone even the adults telling him he's hopeless, telling hiccup to leave him behind.

and they cut camicazi! i'm sorry, but astr*d is nothing compared to camicazi. camicazi is a tiny, feral child who can easily best hiccup, fishlegs, and pretty much anyone in a sword fight. she can bring a grown man to tears with her rudery and smack talk. she is recklessly brave and craves adventure and follows hiccup blindly bc she trusts him that much. she isn't in love with hiccup - in fact she doesn't care about romance and love. she gives up everything to help hiccup bc she has a strong sense of justice. she is the motivator, the cheerleader, she finds a positive in everything. she never gives up. literally never gives up. and that's one of the most inspiring things about her: she always has hope.

and toothless! god!!! toothless is *thought to be* a common or garden dragon. he is horrifically tiny, he is literally toothless, and is the biggest brat in the world. he will cause problems on purpose. he has a stutter, he's the most selfless selfish dragon around. he and hiccup can talk to each other. he masks his fear with singing and being annoying. his growth is remarkable. he starts off refusing to obey hiccup, doing the opposite of what he says, making life harder for literally everyone around him, and he's still somewhat like that. but he's also braver, more caring, more willing to make sacrifices for the sake of others. he's clever, which he needs to be to make up for his size and aggression. he protects hiccup with everything he has, therefore, he protects what hiccup cares about just as hard. he was the only dragon that didn't abandon the vikings in the first book bc he cared about hiccup.

and snotlout,,, god,,, i will never forgive the movies for butchering snotlout. hiccup's cousin, the bully character, the one who is horrifically jealous that hiccup's dad was born before his. the one who desperately wants to prove himself, to be worthy, to make people proud. and you hate him, you despise him. he betrays everyone many times bc of the nothing promised to him by alvin and his mom. he loses himself, turns his back on himself, all bc he wants to prove himself. all bc he wants to be better than hiccup. and hiccup still forgives him and gives him chances, sometimes out of pity, but also bc snotlout is his cousin. he can't just turn his back on him no matter how miserable snotlout made his life. and in the end, snotlout sacrifices himself for hiccup. he gives up his life for hiccup in one last attempt to set things right. his death and the events preceding it are one of my absolute favorite moments in the book. gives me chills. makes me cry.

that's the thing with the books - they're so realistic. there is no inherently happy ending where everything works out. the first book begins with "there were dragons when i was a boy", implying that they're gone now. the books show there are consequences to our actions. they enslaved the dragons, they fought against them during the dragon rebellion all bc alvin and his mom said to, and now they're gone bc a simple apology doesn't fix hundreds of years of enslavement. and the only way for the world to move forward was for the dragons to leave and heal on their own. and now they have to learn to live without them. and yeah i've heard the third movie ends like that but. it doesn't have the build up. it doesn't have "there were dragons when i was a boy". it doesn't have eleven books of development to back it up, to make it feel meaningful.

i know that the movies are really special to a lot of people. i know that, on their own, they're genuinely good movies. i can acknowledge that the soundtrack is amazing and the animation is beautiful. i just can't see past the way they butchered the world that i love, the world that i grew up with. i can't see past the way people yelled at me for saying i liked the books better, the way that people gave me weird looks when i showed them a picture of the original toothless, when i tell them that nightfuries aren't even a type of dragon. cressida cowell created hundreds of different dragons, and the movies couldn't even pick from that. i can't forgive the way that barely anyone knows there are books bc the movie barely gives credit to them. i cannot forgive the way they capitalized off the books and then shoved them aside. i know cressida thinks they're good movies and i know a lot of httyd book fans also like them. but i just... i cannot get over how much they changed and how they missed so much and ignored the books. also they got rid of camicazi so hiccup could have a love interest and that is unforgivable to me.

if you disagree, that is a-okay. we're all entitled to our own opinions. i just ask that you, perhaps, try the books out. give them a chance. bc they're amazing works of art and also just like. don't yell at people who don't like the movies? whether it's bc they prefer the books or just aren't into that kind of movie. and just remember that dreamworks didn't come up with the story; cressida cowell did.

[autismswagsummit]

I submitted some fictionalised version of historical figures. Is this ok? Since they’re not accurate depictions of the people who share their name.

This is another vague area that in practice, I have to treat with some level of individual consideration for each nomination, however I checked which nomination is (most likely) yours and I will say firmly that your character will not be making it into the bracket. To avoid ambiguity and cut straight to the point, the real life version of this character was a slave owner, and I do not feel that (even in a parody/rewritten form) slave owners should have a place in this competition. I hope you will understand where I'm coming from with this

[necrotic-nephilim]

What do you think of alfred/bruce?

!!! good question, i love them so dearly.

shipping Bruce can get difficult when you want to put him in the position of submission. it's not impossible and there are characters you can make him submit (Clark and Diana are the obvious choices) but they're not characters who would any significant power over him, so for the fun of like, fucked up power play, unless you're doing something like an Injustice or Justice Lords AU, it's hard. so if you want to ship Bruce with someone who holds an implicit power over hi him and has the rare ability to tell him what to do, the answer is Alfred. which is just so fun.

because i personally really enjoy putting Bruce in a submissive role. it's a subversion of what you expect out of him, and subverts a lot of his key character traits. he's someone who *requires* control as a part of his personal regiment, part of his mission. he doesn't like to give it up, and he won't give it up to just anyone. when he does give it up, it's always conditional. the few times he gives someone like Dick control, he always takes it right back. Alfred is one of, if not the only person who has full control over Bruce. he can tell Bruce what to do, and Bruce will listen. it's still not perfect and Bruce will go against him, but largely, he can and will exert that control when he feels it's necessary. so that's so fun to play with romantically. especially with the aspect of him not only raising Bruce, but knowing Bruce practically his whole life. Alfred has just always Been There. he's a constant pillar.

and i had an interesting conversation with a mutual about how Alfred's life pretty much revolves around Bruce. Alfred will toss aside his own blood family (Julia) to prioritize Bruce. how Alfred behaves around the rest of the Batfam is defined by their relationship to Bruce and his love for them is often just an extension of his love for Bruce. it's complete devotion from Alfred, and if you make it romantic, it immediately borders on obsession. there's no. "healthy" version of this ship and that's the fun of it. especially if it's a Year One type era, where it's just the two of them. but it's also fun to introduce the rest of the Batfam and see their reactions to it. how long they take to notice, what they feel about it, etc.

these two are so intertwined in a very similar Batman/Robin way, in that most superhero spoofs have a butler for a reason- you just can't separate Bruce from Alfred unless you're willing to kill one of them off. we treat Alfred like this kindly old man who's just there to make tea and witty remarks, but in reality this man is a war vet who served in MI-5. he's rough around the edges in a way that if he and Bruce had met under any other circumstances, they likely wouldn't get along. Alfred has killed people in combat, he has no reason to believe in a no-kill rule and would see the flaws in it. but it's *Bruce*, a man he's been devoted to since the Waynes died. someone Alfred watched grow up.

if i were to personally write them together, i'd have them get together after Bruce leaves and trains for years. because who Bruce is when he leaves Gotham and who he is when he returns are two very different people. and Alfred still lives him wholly, but this isn't a traumatized boy anymore, this is a man who's systematically turned himself into a weapon. and so when Alfred agrees to help, it comes with a natural relationship that's complicated and has built-in fucked up power dynamics. Alfred is the one person who can get away with telling Bruce what to do, killing for Bruce, and taking care of him when he's emotionally vulnerable. there's a deep level of trust in all of that so i really love it and wish we had more of it. you can take it to the extreme dead dove end of things, or play with it in a more domestic sense and both. both are good.

[blastlight]

every so often i think about how if i ever make a post or something that blows up, i'll immediately be harassed en masse by people claiming i'm a zionist

[harmcityherald]

Breakfast time!

[batemanofficial]

hello upper middle class northern usamerican tumblr user. i want to play a game. you will notice that you are in a super america convenience store in rural kentucky - you have three minutes to purchase a snack and drink of your choice and make normal small talk with the cashier. however, if you use the word "cryptid" or generally make reference to appalachia and its inhabitants as "wild", uncivilized, or lacking restraint around alcoholic beverages during your time here, i will personally tie you to the chassis of a four wheeler and tip it into the river. live or die. make your choice

[killjoy-prince]

If Misha ends up being the Watchmaker ill scream

[heloflor]

After seeing a playthrough of Bowser’s Inside Story, I gotta say I’m kind of mixed on Starlow, and no, it’s not just because of the Luigi bullying.

The thing with Starlow is that, on one hand, it’s great to see a female character who has no hesitation talking back and who can be a bit of an ass. But at the same time, the way they wrote her just…it really makes it hard to like her sometimes.

I think the main issue is that she’s written as someone who talks back but most of those interactions are with people doing their jobs and messing up. This leads to moments with Starlow criticizing someone for the things they’re doing, but then proceeding to do nothing whatsoever to help. On top of that, she’s kind of useless in the game, making her “I’m better than you” attitude really come off in a bad way.

(btw that moment with the doctor/fortune-teller calling her out on it is very satisfying)

The best way to describe the issue, and that’s when it gets interesting, is to compare her to how Bowser is written in this game. There are essentially two things that are similar yet different about those two.

1. Like I said, Starlow is often criticizing people for what they’re doing, which is something Bowser does as well. But where Starlow goes “Man you suck at your job. Do better !” Bowser goes “Man you suck at your job. Here, let me do it for you !” and that automatically makes Bowser more likeable. Because instead of just complaining, he actually does things (the section with the Monty Moles for example).

2. A bit longer to explain but the Tl;Dr is that Bowser actually learns from his mistakes and grows while Starlow doesn’t. To explain this, I want to describe two interactions between those two.

The first interaction is when Bowser forgets the code to his safe and orders Starlow to find it, to which Starlow gets angry with his tone and tells him to fuck off, only accepting to help once he politely asks her to search. That right here is really good, and is an example of a moment where I really like Starlow’s attitude.

But then you have their next interaction. Bowser just spent hours stuck in a safe (btw someone stuck in a liminal space like that is a form of torture), was thrown into the garbage so hard the safe broke, and understandably is in enormous pain. Because of that, Bowser asks Starlow to help with his back, and his dialogue here echoes the previous one in a good way.

He starts off his sentence as an order, only to catch himself halfway through and ask politely. Bowser just went through hell, is in a huge amount of pain, and yet still finds it within himself to be polite because he knows that’s how Starlow wants to be addressed. This also shows that he respects Starlow since he remembered that detail about her and is willing to avoid falling into his usual bossy attitude despite his terrible state.

And what does Starlow do in return ? She basically calls him a whiney bitch for complaining. Yeah….this is not a good look.

This actually reminds me of one of their first interactions, when Bowser can’t produce fire and panics about it, with Starlow telling him to just deal with it. The first time I saw this dialogue I was like “Hey Starlow, buddy, how would you feel if you suddenly lost your ability to fly, with no idea of why and the only one that might help is some random voice you don’t know anything about coming from your stomach ?” Although, I’d cut Starlow some slack for this one since this is very early on, so Starlow has every right to be mad at him.

And more on that topic, the thing with comparing Bowser and Starlow is that you quickly realize how much better Bowser is than her. I already mentioned Bowser doing things himself and showing respect to her, but then there’s also moments like him being humble enough to eat Wiggler’s carrot when being ordered to to “take responsibility”, or when he out loud says he will break the rocks in his path to free the Koopas, and decide to commit to it upon realizing the Koopas heard him. In that second case, he could’ve easily gone a different path and tell the Koopas to shut up if they were to say anything, but he didn’t. Instead, he said he will break that rock and that’s what he’s going to do ! Same for the Wiggler btw. He could’ve beaten them up instead of eating that carrot, which he does end up doing afterwards when Wiggler loses their shit.

So yeah, when you look at how not-very-useful Starlow is compared to Bowser, when you look at how they treat others, and when you look at their interactions with each other…it’s kinda hard to find Starlow likeable when a literal villain is a better person than she is (granted Bowser is more of an anti-hero in this game but the point still stands).

Funnily enough, some of those moments like the Wiggler, the Koopas and him saying please to Starlow while in pain actually show that yes, Bowser is a pretty decent king. At the very least, you can understand why his people respect him.

So all-in-all, yeah, I’m kind of 50/50 on Starlow. It’s great to have a female character on the hero team who has a lot of flaws for once, but it’s also hard to find her attitude likeable. Ultimately, I think the issue is how she’s acting the same with everyone. Like I said earlier, it is satisfying when Bowser is being a dick and she tells him off. But when Bowser is being nice, or when she’s interacting with someone who’s only trying to help, Starlow really comes off as an ass, which is not a good look.

And yes, while still a minor thing in BIS, her bullying Luigi doesn’t help either.

[cherriesandpomegranates]

I can't believe I walked into my first (ish) day of work at a new part time job today and basically said "why are you all so white" 💀💀💀

[radioisntdead]

Accidentally stumbled onto the dark side of Tumblr again, DEAR GRACE SOME FOLKS NEED INTENSE THERAPY, or need to stop doing drugs, maybe both, my eyes, my poor, poor eyes, I need a holy water and bleach combo

Also I should watch gravity falls again