#and DISGUSTING but I don’t like it. it’s like they’re operating in a version of the world that’s completely inaccessible to me. and I hate | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

sondepoch · 3 years ago

Text

Lighter (3/5)

Breaking the Collar

Nine months in the human trafficking circuit has destroyed every sense of normality you ever knew. For you, it's commonplace to be ordered on your knees for your owner, his clients, anyone else Childe deems necessary—and you've reached a point where you accept it this misery, just going along with the motions of life because there's nothing else to do.

Diluc and Kaeya change that.

They enter your life on a regular workday afternoon, stepping inside Childe's massive office under the pretense of sorting out a business deal, but a single hastily written message makes it clear that they're not here to hurt you: they're here to help you.

The only issue is that you have no idea how to escape Childe.

MASTERLIST

There’s something demeaning about the outfit Childe has picked for you today. It’s nothing unlike what he had you wear when he last took you outside the apartment, when he brought you on a train to Xiangling’s restaurant, but the blouse and skirt he has you in today are looser than before, and skimpier, too.

The thought confuses you until you realize that it’s because where you were previously dressed like a regular girl, in fairly modest clothes that were designed to shy away from attention, you’re now dressed like a slave once more: like a little sex toy that can only wear thin, loose clothes so her owner, alongside all her owner’s friends, can have easy access to the pretty tits and cunt beneath.

It should make you sick.

Yet, as Childe slips his hand underneath your skirt to grip your thigh, the only thing that disgusts you is how easily you find yourself relaxing into his touch.

“Angel,” Childe murmurs into your ear, voice hovering lowly under the quiet buzz of the van you both sit in. “Angel, I have a present for you.”

That catches your attention. You turn your head to your owner, eyebrows lifted in confusion, as Childe pulls a box from his pocket.

Immediately, you know what’s inside.

The first few gifts Childe gave you were all varied: the very first was, of course, the necklace he gave you in place of the ugly, metal collar all the other girls have to wear. The second was his jacket, too tattered for him to use anymore but literal paradise for someone like you, who had already grown used to spending every waking moment naked. Then, his presents began to come in the shape of services rather than material objects—the decision to allow you to sleep on a bed, the decision to let you eat better-quality meals, the decision to spare you from being sent to Scaramouche for a beating as punishment for a stupid blunder you once made—but after a certain period, Childe had granted you all the freedom he could give.

Then, his presents had to change.

He began gifting you jewels, all of them in different colors but always unfairly expensive, to make your collar sparkle.

You make no haste in opening the black, velvet box Childe gives you, eyes bright. You don’t think twice about how embarrassing it is that he’s conditioned you to associate these little gemstones (probably worth mere pennies to a man as wealthy as Childe) with happiness, but even you can’t keep the smile off your face as you snap open the box and see a blue twinkle staring back at you.

“It’s a sapphire,” Childe explains, pulling the gemstone out by the short, silver chain it dangles from. “Since you told me that you like colorful stones.”

You remember saying that. It was true: being Childe’s favored toy meant that you were always by his side; it gave you no room for pastimes, and so you found that the most entertaining thing to do was toy with the shiny stones that dangled off your collar and angle them into the light to trace patterns into the ceiling. It’s an activity that works best with larger, colorful stones: the dainty diamonds Childe always used to gift you didn’t work half as well.

“Do you like it?” the man asks, staring down at you. “I thought you deserved a reward so behaving so well last time we went out. If you’re good this time as well, I’ll give you another one.”

I won’t be here for you to give me another one, you think.

“I like it,” you say, ignoring how your heart instinctively speeds up with—is it fear? concern? hesitation?— when that thought runs through your mind. “Thank you, Sir.”

Childe grimaces.

“I mean, Ajax.”

Calling him by his name is still a hard habit to get into, but you find that the syllables roll off your tongue much smoother now. Alas, you shouldn’t need to worry about it too much longer. Not if today’s meeting with Diluc and Kaeya goes as planned.

“Here, lean forward so I can put it on you.”

The way you arch your neck forward is familiar. You and Childe have been in this position countless times before, him always being the one to fasten his gifts to your collar, and it shows in how quick Childe’s fingers are in attaching the short chain of the sapphire to your necklace. Within seconds, you feel the task’s completion as you lean your head back and smile at your owner, the weight around your neck marginally heavier than when you both stepped inside this van.

“It looks good,” Childe says, squeezing your thigh gently. “You look good.”

“Thank you,” you say like a good little slave. Then, you decide to go the extra mile. “Ajax.”

The man doesn’t respond to that, opting to glance out the window as his driver speeds down the highway that’ll doubtlessly bring you both to the office Diluc and Kaeya share, but you can see the edges of his lips curling upward. It’s rare, after all, for you to address him by name. No matter how much he loves it, your tongue still says “sir” on instinct, a little crack in the homey picture Childe is building with you in his mind.

It’s not like it matters, you think, stopping yourself from thinking too much about your owner before you can begin to feel bad. If all goes well, I won’t ever have to see him again.

The thought instinctively brings a smile to your face, but it falls just as fast.

If.

Looking back, the message Diluc and Kaeya gave you was cryptic. ‘WE CAN HELP YOU’ provides no accurate timeline to place your hopes in. The second message, ‘COME WITH TARTAGLIA NEXT WEEK AND WE CAN FREE YOU’ was of the same nature. Up til now, you’ve been vaguely interpreting their words to mean that they would free you immediately if you managed to go with Childe to this meeting. But the human trafficking world is so complicated, and you can’t help but think that things may be delayed even longer.

All you can do is hope for the best and pray that reality won’t disappoint.

“How much longer?” you ask your owner after the view outside the window has changed from a highway to a cityscape.

“Impatient, aren’t we?” Childe chuckles. “We should be there any time soon. Keep an eye out. Their office is in one of the big buildings.”

That doesn’t tell you much, given that nearly every building this van drives past is over fifteen stories high.

You’re in the middle of scoffing at Childe’s poor description of the office when the car finally stops: and only then do you understand that when he said “one of the big buildings,” he meant the biggest fucking building in the entire city.

You’re gawking like a fool as Childe helps you out of the car, mentally overwhelmed at the sheer size of what has to be the tallest office in Snezhnaya.

“It’s…”

Big doesn’t begin to describe the grandeur of this place. It’s nothing you’d expect from two men who are working undercover to free people from human trafficking: it's got to be the most eye-catching thing you've ever seen, one hundred stories high or taller, with every inch of the exterior covered in wall-to-wall windows. It looks like an upscale version of Childe’s own office, and if you thought his building was lavish, then this is full-on opulent.

Your owner has to forcibly pull you forward to get you to move.

You almost forget to tuck your precious jacket—the one you so foolishly forgot when you last went out in public, the one Childe insisted you bring this time in case you have another episode—underneath your arm because you’re so busy marveling at the exterior of the building, though you thankfully remember to do so right before the van door closes.

“It’s nothing impressive,” Childe grumbles as he pulls you past the professional double doors. “Diluc and Kaeya are only renting the top ten floors here. They’re not even rich enough to purchase them.”

“Ten whole floors?” you ask, eyes round as you stare at the inside of the ground floor. Childe tugs you towards the elevator, and you’re just barely able to slow him down so you can stare at the marble floors, the expensive-looking paintings on the wall, the embodiment of wealth unlike anything you’ve ever seen. “Why do they need ten—”

“They’re sex traffickers, angel,” Childe tells you when the elevator doors shut. (You have to force yourself to refrain from marveling at how even this elevator seems posh and refined.) “They use the top floor for their own operations. The other nine are where they run their prostitution rings.”

Your face darkens at that. It must be the exact same as Childe’s office, where he has you and his other favored prostitutes up at the top with him, and all the girls he doesn’t want to show favoritism to are forced into the life they were meant to follow when they were brought into the human trafficking world: either as unpaid sex workers that are sold by the hour from Childe to other equally-awful clients or as human trafickees to be shipped to someone else if they prove to be too much trouble.

But then, you remember Diluc and Kaeya’s message.

‘WE CAN HELP YOU,’ they said.

There’s no way that they’re running a sex trafficking front up here. Childe must be wrong. It’s probably just a lie they told him to gain his trust so that they could best help you escape this life.

“They’re so arrogant,” Childe grumbles, crossing his arms. “I bet they chose this office just to piss me off. It’s bad business, too. They’re losing out on money by choosing such a fancy place. Not even the Snezhnayan sex work model will boost their profits.”

“What’s the Snezhnayan sex work model?”

“The system we use in the Fatui. It’s supposed to be the best, money-wise. You hand-train the elite girls as prostitutes so that the best ones become magnets for high-caliber clients. You sell off girls who don’t show promise early on. And then there’s a handful of average-quality, compliant girls you keep for the low-caliber clients that want a good fuck but can’t pay as much.” Childe folds his arms as he leans back against the elevator wall. “It's the most profitable method, even if it means that the girls you sell will always be low-quality.”

“Wouldn’t I be an elite girl?” you ask, staring at your owner. “You trained me, but I never had to work as a prostitute. And I only sometimes have to meet your clients, and—”

“You’re different,” Childe says, avoiding your eyes.

Immediately, you want to ask what he means by that. Unfortunately for you, the elevator doors open at that precise moment, and Childe leads you forward by the hand into an office that, now that you think about it, definitely was designed to upstage Childe’s own place of work.

“Come on, you can do it, baby.” A low coo from the left side of the room draws your attention, and your eyes widen in a mix of confusion, concern, and finally, horror.

“Ignore Kaeya. Focus on my fingers. Relax your throat, doll, yes, just like that…”

Even Childe stiffens when he sees the three men splayed out on a couch: Diluc and Kaeya sandwiching a youthful-looking boy between them as Diluc shoves his hand down the boy’s throat and Kaeya strokes the boy’s small cock.

For a moment, you don’t understand why the boy looks so wrecked, his braided hair dampened with sweat and his face covered in tears, but when your eyes watch as a trickle of sweat trails from the boy’s neck to his stomach, joining a copious amount of white fluid you can only imagine to be the result of countless orgasms, it’s clear that Kaeya’s overstimulating him. Add that to the way Diluc’s entire hand is slotted down the poor boy’s throat, and how the redhead is still stubbornly trying to get more inside, and it becomes clear that whatever this boy is feeling is far from pleasant.

The picture makes it irrevocably clear that this boy is to Diluc and Kaeya what you are to Childe.

Instinctively, you imagine how you would feel if you were in such a position. Your worst memory under Childe, after all, is from the time when you were handed over to four men who fucked into your G-spot so vigorously that you cried at any sensation for hours. Your second worst memory is from the time when a client forced a massive dildo so big you couldn’t breathe down your throat and left you like that until Childe intervened.

The idea of those two memories being combined into one makes you want to vomit.

“Fucking hell,” Childe grunts once he’s past processing the image before him. “Get your toy out of here. Do you have to be so disgusting?”

“Oh, please,” Kaeya responds, not an ounce of hesitation in his voice. He doesn’t stop stroking the boy’s cock. “You had your little angel out during our last meeting. Let us have a little fun now, alright?”

“Hell no. Even I don’t dabble in…” Childe sneers when he sees how young the boy seems to be. “Children.”

Diluc laughs, a deep, rich sound that reverberates through the room. “He’s older than he looks. We’re not scummy enough to deal in children, either, Tartaglia.”

“You’re scummy enough to have to share,” Childe says, scoffing. “What, did you guys spend so much money paying for this building’s rent that you couldn’t afford more than one kid to suit both your needs? The two of you look pathetic, you know.”

“I wouldn’t call it pathetic,” Kaeya offers. “It’s more like we know exactly what we want. And if we both want the same thing, we’re not going to waste our time with…” The man’s single eye skirts over your figure with purpose. “Cheap replacements.”

“Really, now?” You can sense Childe getting offended for you. “You think your little toy is better trained than my angel?”

“I don’t think it, Tartaglia. I know it.” Kaeya grins. He gives the boy’s cock another few strokes, going at the same pace, the small, red-flushed thing twitching furiously in response. “Just watch.”

Kaeya abruptly pulls back from the boy, lifting his hand in the air for dramatic effect, and one, two, three seconds pass where nothing happens. The little organ he’d been stroking still quivers, either from overstimulation or from desire, but the boy suppresses his orgasm, and you can see the desperate, shallow breaths he tries to take from around Diluc’s hand.

Then, it happens.

“Cum, Venti.”

On command, the boy keens, eyes rolling to the back of his head as his hips spasm and jerk up into nothing. Venti’s cock looks abused, a thought demonstrated by how little cum actually shoots into the air and onto his stomach, the substance looking more watery than it looks healthy.

You grimace when you understand how far Venti must have been pushed to reach this point.

The boy practically melts into Kaeya’s hold after the orgasm has left his body, boneless after something so intense, and the final shreds of resistance he’d been offering Diluc’s hand disappear as the redhead’s wrist edges deeper into his throat.

“Such a good boy, isn’t he?” Kaeya says, grinning as he strokes Venti’s hair, brushing the sweat-stained bangs from his forehead. “He’s ‘Luc’s favorite. We haven’t had any discipline issues from him in years. Same goes for the rest of our merchandise.”

Kaeya’s words are a shameless flex on Childe: a reminder that your owner’s girls are so often poorly-trained and that even you, the star of his trafficking business, are secretly planning on running away.

You don’t need to look up at your owner’s expression to see the raw annoyance plastered onto his face.

“No discipline issues?” Childe grunts. “So if I bought him from you and ordered him to kill himself right now, he’d do it?”

There’s a beat of silence.

Whatever response Kaeya was expecting, that wasn’t it.

Finally, Diluc speaks up.

“Venti, much like your toy over there, isn’t for sale.” Diluc withdraws most of his hand from the boy’s mouth, leaving only the tips of his fingers in such that Venti cranes his neck forward to suckle at them. “But if you want him gone that much, it’s fine. He has to go to work now, anyway.”

You can feel your eyebrows shoot up at that. Kaeya watches your expression, and he laughs.

“Sorry, girlie. I know your master over there likes to exercise preferential treatment with his pets, but we don’t do that in Mondstadt.” Kaeya gently pushes Venti to his feet, holding his hand until the shake of the boy’s feet subsides. “All our toys have to work. Favoritism should only go so far in a world like this.”

With that, Kaeya pats Venti’s butt and sends the boy off, and you watch in a mix of awe and horror as he stumbles towards the elevator to “work.”

If it were real, you’d be mortified.

Venti was overstimulated to tears, his legs wobbling the whole time as he stumbled past you, the apples of his fair cheeks flushed a feverish red. There was saliva dripping down his chin, cum still smeared on his stomach, and the reek of sweat and sex wafting off the entirety of his stumbling, nude form.

But you comfort yourself with the knowledge that it was all just an act.

You close your eyes and hold your jacket closer to your body as the elevator releases a low ding, forcing yourself to remember the message Diluc and Kaeya left for you that filled your heart with so much hope. What happened with Venti just now looked bad, but you’re certain that it was all part of their master strategy to deceive Childe until you’re free from him.

(If there’s a sudden thump of a body hitting the ground and a low groan from behind the elevator doors as soon as they shut, you force yourself not to pay attention to it.)

“Fucking finally,” Childe mutters as soon as Venti is gone. He shuffles forward and flops down onto a couch, pulling you with him. “Listen, I don’t want to be here any more than you guys want me here. Let’s get this over with quickly, shall we?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Kaeya mumbles, using a sanitized cloth to clean his hands before slipping his usual gloves back on. Next to him, Diluc does the same. “All we need to do is fix a transportation route for the merch, right?”

“Yeah,” Childe grunts. “I already have some ideas. I own a parent company that sells furniture. If we can legally frame our transactions under the branch of…”

You zone out as soon as they begin using human trafficking jargon you barely understand.

This meeting is much more civilized than the previous, if the whole incident with Venti can be forgotten. The jabs Diluc and Kaeya make towards Childe are much more subtle, popping up rarer, too, and Childe doesn’t openly taunt them with your body the way he did in the first meeting.

It takes nearly an hour before your owner even remembers you, and even then, his touches remain somewhat innocent. He only ever ghosts his fingers against your thigh, oft going down to drum his fingers against your knee while he continues to work out the logistics of his business deal. The touches honestly end up keeping you on edge with how delicate they are, and it’s right when his fingers have finally flitted up to the innards of your thigh, right when you’re holding your breath, right when Diluc and Kaeya’s eyes are fixated on where his palm has crept beneath your skirt, that his phone rings.

Immediately, Childe’s hands are off you.

“I have to take this,” he says, wrapping a protective arm over your shoulder as he beckons you to stand next to him. “In private.”

“Take the elevator down to the second floor if you want privacy,” Diluc offers. “It’s not being rented out, and there aren’t any cameras there.”

“Thanks,” your owner says, leading you towards the elevator.

“Wait,” Kaeya calls, right as you’re about to step in behind Childe. You glance behind your shoulder to stare at him, and the devious expression on his face concerns you.

Kaeya winks at you a second before Childe, too, turns to face him.

“Leave your girl here with us, will you? Give us a treat to nibble on to kill the time.”

Immediately, you think that Kaeya has said the wrong thing. Childe is a fiercely protective man, over you more than anything else. There’s no way he’d leave you in the hands of two men he barely even likes, and it’ll probably only cast suspicion in his mind to hear Kaeya ask for you so candidly.

You shut your eyes, instinctively preparing to hear Childe’s rejection.

Instead, his tone is light when he speaks, almost amused. “Finally seeing how high-quality she is, eh?” Your owner is smiling at Kaeya, not an ounce of irritation, anger, or protectiveness on his face. “Fine. This call will take a while anyway. Just make sure you don’t wreck her too much.”

With that, the redhead steps into the elevator and leaves you with nothing more than a featherlight kiss to the temple, and you’re standing there, dumbfounded, for a full ten seconds before you process what has happened.

Alone, you realize with a start. I'm finally alone with them.

Immediately, you sprint forward, grabbing Kaeya’s hand in an attempt to tug him off the couch, not caring about how you dropped your jacket on the floor in your rush.

“Come on,” you say, eyes wide. “If—if you want to set me free, we have to go now while he’s busy!”

But Kaeya doesn’t move an inch off the couch, instead pulling you onto his lap with a strength you didn’t realize he had.

“What are you—”

“Shh, baby. We have to put on a show in case Tartaglia comes back, yeah?” You feel Diluc shuffle behind you, and the redhead is quick to wrap his hands around your hips from behind.

The slowness, the casualness, the feigned normalcy of their actions dumbfounds you.

“Why aren’t we leaving?” you whisper, hands going up to grip at the fabric of Kaeya’s suit. “You said you’d free me if I managed to come to this meeting, so—”

“Relax,” Diluc mumbles into your ear, gloved hands sliding beneath your blouse to grope at your breasts. “Freeing you isn’t something we can do at the drop of a hat. It’s not just about you being here.”

“Right,” Kaeya says, his fingers slowly undoing the zipper on your skirt. “We asked you to come to this meeting to first check if it would even be possible to free you. A test, if you will. We weren’t sure you’d pass it. But if Tartaglia is willing to give you enough freedom to wander around with him, we figure you should also have enough freedom to do what needs to be done for us to free you.”

“What?” you whisper, trying to force back the tears that are pooling in your eyes. This is everything you’d feared: that Diluc and Kaeya’s idea of freeing you would be more complicated than you’d realized and that the whole process would require more time. “What do you need me to do to be free?”

“Aw, don’t cry.” Kaeya tosses your skirt to the floor right before he goes up to wipe away the tears from your face. “It’s not hard. We just need you to get ahold of Tartaglia’s fake documents on you.”

“His...what?”

Confusion is ultimately what brings a halt to your tears, and you cock your head naively at Kaeya right as Diluc speaks up.

“Fake documents,” Diluc explains, beginning to rub the front of his pants against your naked arse. “Every human trafficker has a series of documents for their merchandise that they can use for transportation and claim purposes. We need to get yours from Tartaglia.”

“Why can’t you take me away without them?” you plead, still clinging to the hope that you might be able to go free today. “Why do I have to—”

“Because, depending on how smart Tartaglia is, he can use those documents to rightfully get you back, even if we set you free.”

“What?” you ask. “How?”

“Think. If he has you listed on those documents as a minor, then the State can only do so much to protect you. Especially if he has himself listed down as your guardian. Even if you try to speak out against him, the Snezhnayan police won’t care. They’ll send you straight back to him, and you can bet that whatever freedoms you have now will be forever lost to you the second time around.”

“B-but, if I can prove that I’m not the person in his fake documents—”

“You can’t prove that,” Kaeya interrupts. “If you’re lucky, Tartaglia’s fake documents would be low-quality. But if he was smart, which we both know he is, then his documents will be of a high-enough quality that people will believe them when they see them. And unless you happen to have your official documents on you, there’s nothing you can do to protect yourself except steal the papers from Childe before he can use them.”

The annoyed, almost bored inflection of Kaeya’s voice shakes you to the core. They rattle this information off so quickly, so intuitively, so earnestly that you have no choice but to believe them.

“Okay,” you whisper, voice shaky. “Okay, I’ll do it. I’ll get the documents you want.”

“Do you know where he keeps them?” Diluc asks.

“I think so. He has a locked briefcase that he always keeps in his office. I don’t know the combination to open it, but I should be—”

“Good,” Kaeya interrupts. “You seem like a smart girl. I’m sure you can figure it out.”

“Y-yeah,” you say, hesitant. The man’s words seemed like a compliment, but his tone felt much more derisive. “Um, is that all, or is there anything else I—”

“That’s all,” Diluc says. “Two weeks from now is when we’ll be ready to get you out of here. We’ll be staying in the hotel across from Tartaglia’s apartment. The two of us will be in rooms 213 and 214. Come find us at any time, and as long as you have the documents on you, we’ll be able to set you free.”

Your heart beats a little faster at that.

“Really?” you whisper, almost not believing it. The goal you’ve been given is finally real: it’s tangible, so clear that you can already see yourself using something sharp to tear into Childe’s briefcase and retrieve your documents before you’ll finally be able to live a life you can be proud of.

Kaeya smiles when he sees the look on your face.

“Really,” he whispers, reaching a rough, gloved hand up to cup your cheek with infinite care. The kiss he coaxes you into is gentle, soft, and sweet. It’s everything he is, everything Childe isn’t.

“Thank you,” you whisper, leaning forward to wrap the man in a hug. You don’t care about the fact that Diluc has unbuttoned and pulled off your blouse now, leaving you effectively nude as you embrace Kaeya, but he doesn’t seem to mind either. “Thank you so much.”

“You’re welcome,” the man whispers in response, and you can hear the smile in his voice.

The next minutes are marked by more peace than you’ve felt in months. Sandwiched between Diluc and Kaeya, you feel oddly safe. The roughness of their gloves stops bothering you, the silky brushes of their hair stop tickling you, and the closeness of their bodies, the warmth and the heat that radiates off them as naturally as light off the sun, only relaxes you in their arms.

When Kaeya begins playing with the jewels on your necklace, you don’t stop him.

“Tartaglia gave you this?” he asks, tugging gently at a diamond.

“Yeah. They're all presents for being good.”

You can’t help the smile that blooms on your face as you say that: it’s like a reminder that you’re special, that you’re important, that even though you’re down in a world where your life isn’t even your own, you still have worth.

Behind you, Diluc’s fingers reach over your shoulder and begin lifting up individual stones to the light. “These are expensive,” he mutters, twisting a ruby among his leathered fingers. “More expensive than what someone would normally give to a slave.”

“I know,” you say. “It's because this is supposed to incentivize my good behavior, and—”

“No,” Diluc interrupts, voice soft. “It’s supposed to manipulate you.”

Your voice catches at that, and you glance at Kaeya for confirmation because you doubt it can be true. Not when Childe always seems so sweet when he gifts you these presents. Not when you've come to look forward to them as the one light in your life in this dark, dark world. But when the blue-haired man’s face twists into sympathy, your heart falls.

“B-but...I like…”

“You’re supposed to like it,” Diluc’s voice, rich and deep, rumbles out into your ear. ”But you need to understand that it’s not a necklace, doll. It’s a collar.”

“I know that,” you say, now wrapping your fingers around the chain protectively. “But I don’t—I don’t want—”

Kaeya kisses you, bringing two hands to your cheeks to cradle your face in his fingers.

“We’re not going to take it away from you, baby.”

He kisses you again.

“Relax.”

Those words soothe you in a way you can’t quite explain; the idea of losing your necklace, even being told that your necklace was a ploy to manipulate you (though you already knew that, to some extent), was unsettling. You much prefer the notion that it’s an innocuous gift: mainly because you’ve grown far too attached to it for it to represent human trafficking and all the pain you’ve had to endure thus far.

But, right when you’ve calmed yourself and forcibly stopped yourself from panicking, you feel a sharp tug on your neck.

“What did you—”

“Nothing,” Diluc says, holding two gemstones—two diamonds, one blue and one pink—in his palm. They still have their chain attached to them, but that's it: there's nothing connecting the diamonds to your necklace, the chains having been ripped off. You feel your expression change as you see what he's done. “Just—”

“What did you do?!” you blurt, panic beginning to overtake your heart. “Childe—Ajax—he’s going to notice! I—I’ll get in trouble, and—”

“Shh,” Kaeya whispers, trying to calm you down with a kiss, but you pull back before his lips can touch you. “It’s not—”

“Put it back. Put it back!”

You've turned around and are about to hit Diluc when the man grips both your wrists, holding you with such a force that it freezes you. The look in his eyes is fierce, fiery, red eyes shining brighter than the rubies dangling off your neck—and for a single second, you can’t help but think that the man looks furious.

Then, the expression is masked, and you’re both left calmer for it.

“Tartaglia won’t notice. Unless he makes a habit of regularly counting what’s on your neck, only you’ll be able to feel the difference.” Right. That makes sense. Childe likes to look at your necklace, but you doubt that he’ll actually know how many presents he’s gifted you. Not when he barely touches the thing, dexterous fingers always reaching out to feel your body instead.

“And besides,” Diluc says, easing you back into your earlier position with your back resting against his chest. “It’s a promise. The two diamonds.”

“A promise?”

In front of you, Kaeya smiles in understanding.

“Right. It’s a promise, baby. We’ll give you these two diamonds back once we’ve freed you, and until then, they’re our weight to bear so that every time we look at them, we remember that we’re waiting for you so we can set you free.”

“It...is?” you ask, hesitant. You haven’t been in the outside world in a while; is this how people do promises now?

“Yes,” Diluc mumbles, kissing your ear as he strokes your hair. Every brush of his fingers against your head instinctively relaxes you, until you’re almost as calm as you were before he took two stones off your necklace. “Do you trust us to return them to you?”

It’s a disguised question.

What Diluc is really asking is this: Do you trust us?

“Yes,” you breathe. It’s the only right answer.

Then, the two men go silent. They focus on relaxing you once more, running their gloved fingers up and down the sides of your body, almost massaging your skin as you sit between them.

Unfortunately for you, all you can think about is your necklace.

It’s the first time you’ve had it be lighter than before: Childe only ever adds to it; he never takes. Now, right when you’d grown used to the weight of the sapphire he attached this morning, you’ve got the odd situation of it being even lighter than it had been when you woke up.

You know that you should feel freer now: less chained down to Childe and to the Fatui.

But deep down inside, you miss the weight.

Minutes later, when you’re a little less emotionally overwhelmed and a little more relaxed as the two men gently run their arms around your body, another thought surfaces.

“A-also,” you say, hesitant. “Um, everything you said at the beginning of this meeting…”

“All lies,” Diluc says, pulling you closer against his broad chest after you slink too deep into Kaeya’s embrace. “Tartaglia had a negative impression of us coming in, so we had to play to that. Everything we said was just for show.”

Your shoulders sag in relief at that, but another thought continues to poke at your brain.

“And Venti?” you finally manage to ask, remembering how ruined the boy had looked as he stumbled away from the two men holding you.

“He’s a masochist,” Kaeya blurts. “We asked him beforehand if he’d be okay with participating. Not sure he realized how all-out we were going to go, but I’m certain that he enjoyed himself.”

That...makes sense! You’ve heard before about masochists, and looking back, everything Diluc and Kaeya did to the boy really did seem to be for the sake of his pleasure. You’ve heard countless times about overstimulation being something sexy, something desired, something liked by the select few who could bear it. Similarly, the way Diluc had his hand down Venti’s mouth...that’s the equivalent of Childe having you suck on his fingers during sex, right?

You laugh a little when you realize that everything you’d been scared about had an explanation. You should have known better than to doubt Diluc and Kaeya, two people who are saving you from hell itself. If anything, you should be on your knees thanking them instead of raising questions over what they had to say to be able to help you out.

“I’m sorry for all the questions,” you confess, sheepish as Kaeya’s fingers begin toying with your breasts. “I’m just...really nervous. And a little scared.”

“Who wouldn’t be?” Kaeya asks, a tinkling laugh spilling from his lips. “We were the same way when we first came out here to save people from human trafficking.”

“Really?” you ask, eyes round. “Do you guys do this for a living? How many people do you save?”

“Uh...whoever we can, really. We use our covers as human traffickers to identify targets that would be easiest for us to free. You seemed like one. Before you, we helped that boytoy from Zhongli. Before him was some Khaenri'ahi girl, and…”

Zhongli? You ask yourself, trying to figure out where you know that name from. It’s familiar, so familiar, and…

“Wait!” You blurt, sitting up straight and nearly knocking Diluc backward in the process. “You guys were responsible for freeing Xiao? The one who’s always by Zhongli’s side?”

You remember the short little man, beautiful in his own right, from when Childe had a business meeting with Zhongli. That was the first time you learned of Xiao, the last time being just last week when you heard Scaramouche say that the green-haired boy had somehow disappeared.

Hope blooms in your heart as soon as you realize what that disappearance was: the successful removal of one more slave from the human trafficking network, something you're next in line for.

Diluc lets out a light laugh when he sees how your entire face has brightened up now that you have genuine proof that these two men are for real, that they’ve helped people escape in the past and that they’ll help you escape in the near future.

“Wait, if you guys freed Xiao, then were you also the ones responsible for setting, uhm…”

Your brain blanks out as you try to remember the second person Scaramouche mentioned when speaking to Childe. What was her name? Amine? you think, but that sounds off. Umino? Lumina? You continue to guess names in your head, brain fixating on Childe’s interaction with the other Fatui executive until finally, you remember her name.

“Lumine!” you declare with pride. “Were you the ones who set her free, too?”

Kaeya stares at you with a shocked expression. His lips part and his face freezes, eyebrows lifted comically high on his forehead, and you turn around to glance at Diluc, but the redhead is in a similar state.

“You’re telling me,” Kaeya begins, “That Lumine...”

He can’t bring himself to finish, and so Diluc steps in to complete the question: “Lumine belonged to Tartaglia?”

You glance back and forth between the two men, unsure of why they seem to be regarding this news with such shock.

“I think so?” you say, now beginning to doubt yourself. “I’m not sure. But Scaramouche said something like that to him, so I—”

You’re cut off by a sharp cackle of laughter from Kaeya. You stare at him in shock, and then behind you, Diluc has begun chuckling, and then Kaeya’s laughing even louder, and within seconds, both men are laughing their heads off at something you barely understand.

“Oh my gods!” Kaeya blurts between fits of almost-hysterical giggles. “You’re telling me that Tartaglia? Fucking Tartaglia? Was the one to lose Lumine?” He laughs some more, loud and merry and cheerful. "So I was right when I called you a—a—" Kaeya stutters in his laughter. "A cheap replacement?"

You stare at the blue-haired man in confusion, not understanding a word of what he's saying nor why he seems to find it so hilarious that Childe and Lumine are connected. You want to open your mouth to ask why, but you have to stop yourself because it's at this precise moment that your owner returns; and this is the picture that Childe sees when the elevator dings with the announcement of his arrival: you, completely nude and squashed between the two Mondstadt business partners, Kaeya in front of you, laughing his ass off as if you’ve told the joke of the century, and Diluc behind you, the most stoic man in the room losing his composure in an equally graceless manner.

“What the fuck…” your owner mutters at the sight, but seeing Childe only makes the two men around you laugh harder.

It takes a full minute for them to calm down, and in that minute, you rise from their couch and move back towards Childe like an obedient slave, only wearing your clothes when Childe nods at you that it’s okay for you to do so.

“So,” Childe deadpans once Diluc and Kaeya have finally stopped laughing, though Kaeya still releases a giggle every now and then. “Did my girl tell a funny joke or something? You guys sounded like a bunch of dying hyenas.”

“Something like that,” Kaeya says, smiling at Childe, but you sense something deadly in his eyes.

“Alright, well…” Childe awkwardly tries to steer the conversation back to what they’d been discussing before. “I guess the final details will have to be ironed out once I actually use this company as a cover to ship the girls to you, but is there anything else we need to talk about? Transportation-wise, we seem solid.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Kaeya drawls, a strange smile on his face. “But, real quick, I want to talk about prices one more time.”

“For fuck’s sake,” Childe grunts, annoyed. “We already agreed on five-hundred thousand mora per shipment. Don’t try to haggle with me again on this.”

“Ordinarily, you’d be right,” Diluc says, crossing his arms. “But we just learned some interesting information.”

Childe’s eye twitches in annoyance. “Right,” he blurts, leaning back. “What is it? Did you find out that I’m giving a better deal to someone else? Because that sucks, but that’s how this business works with new partners. I’m not going to—”

“It’s not that,” Diluc interrupts, lifting a hand. “It’s moreso that before, we thought we were purchasing merchandise from a valued, respected dealer.”

Diluc’s lips quirk into a cruel grin.

“Not from the infamous idiot trafficker who lost Lumine.”

You can hear the ice settle over the room before you feel it, the abrupt, chilling silence suddenly making every second feel like an hour. You’re almost scared to move, scared to pull your eyes to your owner who, for the first time since you met him, looks like the child his codename was assigned for.

Childe doesn’t try to speak, but his every thought is displayed in his eyes alone, the cerulean blues giving insight to a hurricane of emotions wilder than the sea. In his eyes is fear, horror, despair, and pain, so much pain.

Something about the look on his face makes your heart break.

Diluc and Kaeya don’t care.

“I think charging five hundred thousand mora is a tad much for a douche who almost brought the entire industry down. Hell, you should be paying us for even being willing to deal with you, but…” Kaeya glances at Diluc, a single blue eye flitting down to where Diluc extends three fingers against his knee. “We’ll settle for a drop in the price instead. Three-hundred thousand mora per shipment. That good with you, Tartaglia?”

You’re expecting your owner to bargain, to argue, to scoff, to do something other than stare into the distance with those bright blue eyes that now look more blank than anything else.

When you hear Childe mutter a meek “Okay,” you nearly recoil in shock.

Even Kaeya is surprised. “R-really? Damn. Actually, I think we should go even lower, y’know? Every trafficker in the world was scared for their life because of you, so maybe drop the price some more as reparations for that? Whaddya say, two hundred thousand? Per shipment?”

You stare at your owner, silently begging him to do something. Even you can tell that he’s being taken advantage of now, and that awful look in his eyes is something that even you’re unfamiliar with.

“Okay.”

“Fu...okay then? But also, you were kind of a dick to us last time, so how about you make it one hundred thousand? Seems more fair to me.”

“O—”

You grab your owner’s hand before he can agree, and the touch seems to snap Childe out of the awful fog that had been wrapped around his head. The look in his eyes is only less marginally troubled when he abruptly stands up, gripping your hand in a silent plea for you to move with him.

“I’m going,” Childe announces.

He begins walking away so fast that you just barely have time to grab your jacket before you’re at his heels.

The man completely ignores Diluc and Kaeya as he waits for the elevator to open with a rigid posture, seeming to feel uncomfortable or fearful or panicked or a mix of all three. Kaeya begins laughing behind you both, and you almost want to tell him to stop: tell him that yes, Childe is an awful human trafficker and yes, you hate him as well—but the poor man looks like he’s on the verge of having a panic attack, and you know first-hand how awful a feeling that is.

You’re grateful when the elevator finally opens, more grateful when the doors close and you and Childe are finally in isolation together.

Only then, in the silence of the box as it moves you both down to the ground floor, do you hear Childe’s shaky breathing. It’s jagged, uneven. Then, you take note of the way his hands are clenched into fists, palms enclosed so tight that his arms are shaking—and despite everything he’s done to you, you feel some semblance of pity for him.

“Ajax,” you mumble, hoping that the name will calm him. “Relax.”

A moment of silence.

“I am relaxed,” he responds, and when you glance over at him, he’s completely back to normal: breathing even and palms loose.

His eyes, though, are just as pained as when the two of you were sitting upstairs on that couch.

“I’m sorry,” you say. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out that you’re the one who let it slip that Lumine and Childe were connected. Even if you don’t understand the scope of what you said, it's clear that it had an impact. “I didn’t—”

“It’s not your fault,” Childe says, not looking at you. “Don’t apologize.”

More silence. It feels heavy, unlike the usual, comfortable stretches of quiet that you and Childe like to bask in.

“What...were they talking about?” you ask quietly, still staring at your owner. “Diluc and Kaeya said that—”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

A moment of silence.

It feels so heavy that it seems to crush you under its weight.

“Who is she? Lumine?”

More silence.

This time, Childe is the one to break it.

“The only girl I ever loved before you.”

That’s a lie, and you know it. If Childe loved you, he wouldn’t be bringing you around to meetings, dressing you like a cheap slave, and handing you off to other men to flex how ‘high-quality’ you are. If Childe loved you, you would be long gone from the human trafficking circuit because he would have set you free. If Childe loved you, he wouldn’t force you to stay by his side because he’s your abuser, your trafficker, the monster that haunts your life.

Most importantly, if Childe loved you, he would have given you a proper answer to your question. Not some flimsy skirt-around that only furthers his attempts to manipulate you into loving him back.

Your eyebrows furrow the slightest as you feel the elevator hit the ground floor, brain still focused on everything Diluc and Kaeya said. Everything Childe didn’t want to talk about. Lumine.

Curiosity begs you to stick around and learn the truth.

Logic, reasoning, and the desire to lead a life of your own tell you that you’ll be long gone from Snezhnaya before that’ll ever happen.

MASTERLIST

Word count: 7.9k

Notes: eyyyy i'm alive! i promise i never forgot about this fic, it's just that after i missed the original due date, my mind was just like 'eh, it's already late, what's a few more days?' and that's the story of how this is two months late. thank you to all the kind commenters from the last chapter - to the people who checked in on me, ily; to the people who sent me those wholesome asks on tumblr, ily ily; and to the people who made guesses on what would happen in future chapters - guess what :D you acc helped me shape this :3 i originally meant for lumine to be a passing thing mentioned once and never again, but she'll end up being important for chapter 4 ^^ so thank you to everyone who'll still be here after i disappeared for so long. hope you liked this chapter (lmk your thoughts!) and i can't wait to see you all in the finale <3

Comment & Like

Next Update: 6/11

I do not own the rights to Genshin Impact or any of the characters within it.

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caneannabelle · 3 years ago

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ok hi guys. it’s been a while. i wrote this analysis back when Mag 187 aka Checking Out aka The One Where Helen Dies first came out and literally ever since i’ve posted it i’ve wanted to redo it because it feels. lacking. listen if there’s one thing i hate it’s incomplete media analysis and i must right my wrongs lest i be forced to look upon myself and crumble from within. that being said, i’ve been putting off this rewrite for a long long time bc Life Gets Weird. tldr this was written over the course of several months so i apologize for inconsistent quality. anyways let’s get into it!

part one: recap!

it’s been a while! let’s just go over what happened. the scene i wanna focus on in particular is this one:

VICTIM

You’ve got to help me!

ARCHIVIST

[Angrily] Don’t touch me!

[THE ARCHIVIST PULLS AWAY, AS THE VICTIM FALLS AND IS CRYING]

HELEN

Oopsie. Not so easy, is it? Keeping up your humanity?

(187).

that being said i’m gonna be kind of all over the place but! i do think that’s a good jumping off point.

part two (part one): disparaging everyone’s problematic fav

in my original post my point was that in reflexively reacting to a victim with disgust and anger jon inadvertently reveals the nature of his dedication to helping victims as ego driven, especially because this line is directly preceded by him asserting his moral high ground over helen as being a “protector” as opposed to her indulgence in destruction. what i’m saying is homeboy has a savior complex. honestly there’s a lot of evidence to support that claim but i think the most obvious example would be jordan kennedy. like.

JORDAN

…Yeah. But wrong. Sick.

What did you do to me?

ARCHIVIST

I helped you.

JORDAN

Helped me? I don’t feel right, I, I just – Ah! No I don’t – argh! I don’t want this!

(184). to be clear it’s an action with a good intent! he just wants to help someone who once helped him! BUT it also demonstrates a lack of conscious empathy. i feel like i don’t have to argue this since jordan Literally vocally said he didn’t want this several times throughout the scene but the point remains that while jon’s intent is good the actual application of his saviourism removes the autonomy of those he affects. i’m not gonna touch on the “is it objectively immoral to become an oppressor for the sake of self preservation while existing within an extreme system in which all are oppressed regardless of your individual status” query mostly because i do not have the brainpower available rn to come to my own conclusion about systems of power and the way they’re represented in tma (which is a whole other rant tbh) but jon DOES rob jordan of the ability to come to his own conclusion in this debate and make his own choice, thereby removing his autonomy. you know. autonomy. free will. the thing that is central to jon’s internal conflicts. huh.

anyways i NEED to stress that i’m not saying that he’s the same as jonah or the web or even annabelle (although annabelle is a victim. no i don’t take constructive criticism). i just want to point out that his actions reflect a lack of understanding. while he’s able to empathize with the pain others experience and is eternally hyper- aware of it he is unable to view that pain through any lense besides his own and uses it in his cycle of self pity and blame, minimizing it at any point possible in the quickest way and Not prioritizing the wishes of the victim but instead the efficiency in decreasing his own guilt. anyways back to 187- both the victim and jordan are treated as props by jon (and helen) and once they serve their purpose in reaffirming the two’s sense of self are cast aside and ignored. ok from here i’m gonna get conceptual and self indulgent bc it’s my analysis and i get to bring up vague convoluted philosophy.

part two (part two): part two

let’s talk about the distortion for a sec. i refuse to believe helen and michael were both completely gone and it was just the distortion piloting their visage, mostly because… like that’s not what the text would indicate

HELEN

Michael isn’t me. Not now.

ARCHIVIST

What happened?

HELEN

He got… distracted. Let feelings that shouldn’t have been his overwhelm me.

Lost my way.

(101). it’s heavily implied that there was SOME remainder of michael in there, even if the being wasn’t him. maybe i’m way off base here but the way i interpreted the implosion of michael was that it was driven by his inability to maintain the repressed resentment and anger he had for gertrude. like it’s pretty clear that some warped version of michael’s feelings were trapped inside of the distortion and i’d go as far as to say that they were integral to his formation as it. i’m gonna operate on the assumption that michael and helen are two separate beings here for a sec even though we know they’re not. As opposed to michael’s resentment for the archivist, helen actively sought refuge in the institute and from the small amount we saw of her Pre-Distortion it seems like her paranoia is internally directed. i think you could even say that while michael was caught in an eternal battle with the concept of connection, helen is caught in a battle with the concept of self. the point is that she thinks of jon in a less “The Archivist” sense and more as just That Guy who she had an intense connection with that one time.

ARCHIVIST

So… S-so what do you want?

HELEN

I don’t know. Helen liked you, so… there’s a lot to consider. But I will help you leave.

(101). i would also like to point out that helen’s emergence as the distortion coincides with jon coming to terms with his identity as the archivist. parallels, baby! SO helen is a newly formed being that is grappling with the concept of her own existence and jon is reevaluating his understanding of identity as he comes to terms with the fact that he is turning into the thing he’s fighting against and this is all happening at the same time. live laugh love. stay with me here, i promise i’ll get back to 187. Throughout seasons 4 and 5 helen attempts to validate her own moral decisions via jon who she once saw herself in. conversely, jon sees both an image of what he could become AND arguably a representation of his past failure in her.

ARCHIVIST

It did. I think… I mean, you remember how I was back then, how paranoid. The Not!Sasha was there, and I could sense something wasn’t right, but I just couldn’t place it. It left me a suspicious wreck. Then when Helen Richardson came in, it seemed like… she was in the same place I was, but worse, further along. I thought, maybe if I could help her, that would mean… maybe I wasn’t beyond help?

(188). helen and jon lie at opposite ends of the same spectrum. both of them derive pleasure from the suffering of others

HELEN

Oh, John! This existence can be wonderful, if you just let it.

ARCHIVIST

[Sadly] I know.

(187). needless to say that a LOT of jon's arc and the themes surrounding him focus on the concept of autonomy and addiction and i think it'd be fair to say that this component is an aspect of that. repressing these qualities is both a way of reaffirming his control and also just.. him trying to be what he perceives as Good, and season 5 is the point at which this comes to the forefront of his character- particularly the line between what is intrinsic and what he truly has control over. a battle of the concept of the self, if you will. while the two share similar traits, jon is intensely moralistic while helen indulges in a twisted sense of hedonism and both are fueled by an inability to expand their viewpoint. helen fully immerses herself within these qualities and intentionally blinds herself to any concepts of morality (indulgence), and jon actively pushes back on this as hard as he can and follows black and white moral framework (repression). this means that in order for their relationship to function he must either accept her, choosing to let go in his personal battle with autonomy OR she must break out of her worldview and conform to standards of human morality which goes against her own nature.

part three: questions i do not have the answer to

so. what does it all mean. WELL. 187 is the boiling point of all this tension. we know that helen relies on jon to validate her sense of self and we know that jon sees himself in helen, both past and present

HELEN

But that doesn’t make any sense. You barely met her. You had half an hour together, and she spent most of that ranting about mazes! She was positively delirious with paranoia!

ARCHIVIST

True. But as you’ll recall, I was pretty paranoid myself at that point.

HELEN

So what? You saw yourself in her? A sad reflection? A possible future?

(187). I’d argue that 187 is demonstrative of jon’s inability to either fall into complete indulgence in intrinsic values that lack moral validity vs. maintain and image of self that does not conflict with the values he attempts to uphold in order to find internal satisfaction and yes both of those concepts are inherently egocentric as he bases his moral judgement on what he can justify to himself instead of what can be calculated via empathy. however. paired with the alternative (helen). is that BAD. is it inherently selfish to do what you perceive as good in order to feed your own savior complex? and if so, is it inherently selfish to indulge in destructive qualities as to not delude yourself? is honesty vs deception a black and white question? if not, where does helen even fall? in not deluding herself does she achieve a moral high ground? IS she deluding herself by denying the potential to be facetiously benevolent at the detriment of both her personal enjoyment and her honesty? does helen even posses the capability to repress her violent qualities? if she doesn't, does she have any autonomy? if she and jon are both inherently selfish and intentionally resistant to introspection, what makes them different? i do not have answers but i do think the text is meant to invoke these questions. i mean,

MICHAEL (STATEMENT)

There was a great evil, she said, and Michael was going to help her fight it. Am I evil, Archivist? Is a thing evil when it simply obeys its own nature? When it embodies its nature? When that nature is created by those which revile it? Perhaps Gertrude believed so. Michael certainly did. He believed everything she told him.

(101).

part 5: conclusion

so once again. what does it all mean. well! even post helen’s death jon continues to fight for autonomy and preserve his moral worldview so. i think that probably indicates something good.

MARTIN

Huh. She couldn’t help what she was, I guess.

ARCHIVIST

She didn’t even try.

(188). i honestly don’t have a thesis i just find it incredibly interesting how the themes surrounding these two intersect and play off of each other. anyways looping back to 187 i do think in a broad sense jon killing helen is representative of him choosing to stick by his convictions and keep fighting. i don’t have any good way to end this but thanks for sticking around during my self indulgent rambling!

#also apropos of nothing but #this scene reminds me of a clive barker story #truly that has nothing to do w this analysis i just wanted to throw this in the tags #anyways! hope this makes sense #i had a friend who’s never listened to tma read over this to make sure that it’s coherent #and she said it was fine so.. alice ty #this was fun! i have lots of Thoughts on tma and i should write them more often #the magnus archives #mag 187 #jonathan sims #the archivist #helen richardson #helen distortion #michael shelley #tma meta #the distortion #the spiral #tma

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shinesurge · 3 years ago

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I’ve been holding off on making this post because I wanted to try it out myself and get settled in and make sure everything went okay, but seeing as I’ve gone ahead and updated my site and everything I thought now might be a good time to start talking about this publicly!

If you’ve known me for more than five minutes you know I fucking hate Webtoon, like, a lot. Every aspect of it disgusts me to the core of my being, and while Webtoon is the ugliest version of them the aspects that I hate also extend to basically any comic aggregate site. I hate that they treat artists like content robots, I hate that they treat comic readers like morons who aren’t capable of engaging with complex stories, I hate that they actively try to strip away all the cool parts of indie comics by cultivating sterile and impersonal environments that discourage artistic experimentation and unique expression.

So! I hope you’ll be interested in what I have to say about this new platform that’s (hopefully) going to be out of alpha this summer. If you think you like reading comics on Webtoon, I really encourage you to check out Dillyhub once it launches. That’s the short version, but I have a LOT to say about this! So I’m putting the rest of this under a cut.

Full disclosure, I’m not getting paid or anything for this. The creative outreach at Dillyhub contacted me a few weeks ago asking if I’d be interested in having Kidd Commander be one of their launch titles when they go live this summer. I was hesitant at first, since I actively distrust anything claiming to be For Creators at this point, but they answered my pushy questions patiently and everything seemed on the up and up so I gave it a shot; I’ve been needing a mobile mirror for KC anyway. Eventually they invited me to the alpha creator discord, where they’ve been working directly with all of us artists to improve the platform, and now to be honest I’m REALLY excited for this thing to get off the ground. Nobody asked me to make this post, but since I’ve spent years whining and bitching about how other services do wrong by their creators, I thought I’d talk about this one that’s doing things right.

So, the biggest advantage this site has for creators over others in my opinion is that it. Treats us like individuals, regardless of follower count lmfao. If you’re a new person just starting out with your new webcomic, here’s what webtoon does for you:

Note: you don’t get a custom banner, you don’t even get to choose the solid color it is. That big circle icon is ALSO the image that shows up in searches, but everywhere else on the site it’s a 100x100px square, so you have to choose whether you want it to look good as a giant circle at the top of your comic’s page OR whether you want to look good in search results. Which, by the way, is the ONLY way for people to find you if you’re not partnered. And that’s it! You have no monetization options, you won’t show up on the genre pages, and when someone DOES stumble across your page it looks super unprofessional. Good Luck!

Now here’s my Dillyhub page(s):

You don’t get a static banner and one icon, you get a whole carousel banner with as many images as you want front and center as soon as you get to the project page. You get seven (custom!) genre tags, as opposed to Webtoon’s single tag you have to pick from their list, and plenty of room to talk about your work. The episodes are even laid out better, you get a MUCH bigger preview space to work with and they’re nice and big on the bottom half of the page:

you know, like they’re actually presenting ART lmfao.

That’s already an ENORMOUS improvement, but here’s my favorite thing.

o hm that’s a lot of super cushy settings I have for every individual episode, but what’s that, Episode Type?

LIKE.

listen, i know this is probably a bit specialized if you’re not a comic maker yourself, but this is a HUGE DEAL. You can post vertically OR page by page! You can even post pages two at a time for double page spreads, or so they read like a physical comic book! AND their specs are really open, as long as the file meets the size requirement you can make it whatever shape you want. You don’t have to reformat all your shit to post here!! I posted the entire first volume of KC STRAIGHT FROM THE PRINT FILES in like half an hour!!! The episodes can also be any amount of pages, you can post a single page or an entire chapter all in one go!

So that’s just the project page for the comic, let’s see what happens when I click on my username there.

Each author gets their own unique page (which you can tack a vanity url to!) to present themselves however they want! You always have the banner at the top, but beyond that you have a ton of options. Among other incredibly useful tools that really should just be bare fucking minimum at this point, like the ability to preview your page on different devices, you start customizing your blank page with this set of widgets,

and from THERE you can customize them MORE, you can promote your patreon or your kickstarter or whatever! Having this creator space ALSO means that if you run several comics, or if you want to promote your comic AND your illustrations, you can just separate them into individual projects! Each with their own page! This is also really nice as a reader because you can subscribe to a creator but you can also just subscribe to specific projects, if you don’t want to get ALL of their stuff in your inbox. It’s so good y’all hh.

Once again, all of this functionality is just THERE as soon as you make your account. You don’t need to be “partnered” or whatever the fuck, you don’t need to meet a certain follower threshold to unlock the ability to operate normally. You get your own creator space to present yourself how you prefer, you get pages for all your projects, you can even set up monetization options (and change them for individual pages IN a project) right from the start.

ok ok let’s compare this to my webtoon page

oh that’s right webtoon just puts your greyed out name at the bottom of each comic and that’s it because human beings don’t make this stuff, my bad lol anyway

Other fun shit that Dillyhub does that makes me feel like they’re people who have actually consumed or made comics on the internet at some point in their lives:

-When you log into the “studio” space, you’re in your creator account. When you log OUT of the studio space, it’s like you swap to a “reader” account, where you can access your pull list and comment on things with a different name and profile icon. Again, maybe only cool if you’re a creator, but if you ARE then you know exactly why this is incredibly useful lmao

-You can set up “hidden” projects, so if you only want certain things to be accessible by certain people or to not show up in searches that’s an option! You have SO much control here it’s great.

-The comment section has moderation options GODDD. You also have a real comment space, you know, so it actually encourages building a community (and a rapport with your community, if you like), and you also can just turn comments off entirely if you want! I haven’t used it much yet, obviously, but it’s been made very clear in the discord that artists want better control over their comment sections and the devs have it on their priority list.

-Absolutely every step of customization gives you a preview before it’s live, so you can easily see what these images you’re posting in different places are going to look like before you beam them to your followers’ inboxes. This includes individual episodes!

-This was sort of in one of the screenshots but it’s important so I’m saying it here too: the option to mark individual episodes as mature or with content warnings, rather than having to mark an entire comic as Mature Spooky Scary Content because of one or two pages getting a bit hairy.

This site is only in alpha right now, and it’s invite-only until they get to beta (for creators; anyone can make a reader account! but they haven’t set up a way to browse comics without direct links yet so) but honest to god it’s already blowing every other site I’ve used clean out of the water. And the staff has been really kind and responsive to us proposing fixes or changes! I will always defend individual websites as being the best option for an indie comic, but everybody’s gotta start somewhere and we NEED something that isn’t Tumblr or Webtoon to fill this role; this site feels a lot more like a symbiotic relationship than any of the other staples available for new creators right now. If you’re a comic reader and you want to see your favorite comics on Dillyhub I’d suggest keeping an eye on this site and once it’s live start poking them to look into it, and if you’re a creator follow their social media and hop in when they open up for anybody to join. I would LOVE to see this site take off as a viable option for hosting and reading comics.

Thanks for reading all this! I haven’t quite finished setting up yet, but if you want to poke around a project/creator page for yourself mine is here have at it. As things progress I’m sure I’ll have more to say, but since I’m usually so aggressively negative about places like this I just wanted to give some credit where it was due. fucking finally.

#long post #i want this site to obliterate webtoon so fucking bad lmfao

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ixalit · 4 years ago

Note

Part two!!!

HTP Rec List Part Two, because not everything fit in one post due to the picture/divider limit

(Here’s part one)

Love, Pandora by coffeestainanalyst

3k, stucky

noncon is referenced but in the past, this is very much an aftermath fic, graphic flashbacks, objectification, victim blaming, self hatred, consent issues

Summary:

Written for a kinkmeme prompt asking for Steve & Bucky to be in a relationship post CA:TWS. Everything seems fine, until they raid an abandoned HYDRA base and find graphic evidence of Bucky's sexual abuse by HYDRA.

To quote the prompt: Cue horrible, painful, mortifying shame on Bucky's part (coupled with the fear that Steve certainly couldn't want him anymore now that he's seen exactly how soiled Bucky is) and Steve who's so horrified and angry with the perpetrators that he just barely keeps it together enough to reassure Bucky that he's not disgusted with him.

Pictures Came With Touch by Nonymos

6k, stucky, steve/bucky/sam

standard winter soldier trauma umbrella, past rape/non-con, touch-starved, non-consensual drug use, sex pollen, but no sex, cuddle pollen if you will, with a side order of angst, mutual pining, pre-OT3

Summary: So, there's this drug that makes the Winter Soldier addicted to his handler's touch and Barnes got a surprise dose and now he imprinted on Sam and it's been a long goddamn battle and Sam would just like to go to bed, please.

Happiness In Slavery by @hanitrash

10k, 4 chapters, complete

Steve/Bucky, Bucky/Rumlow

rape/non-con elements, restraints, hurt no comfort, no happy ending, dead dove: do not eat, hydra sex dungeon? Yes please!, bottom steve rogers

Summary:

Steve is captured while on a mission and wakes up in a very uncomfortable position, surrounded by some very familiar people. Apparently HYDRA knows it can't break his body, so they set out to break his spirit instead.And as it turns out, even the great Captain America can be broken.

Wash This From My Hands by nevtelenwriting

10k, stucky,

graphic depictions of violence, rape/non-con, oral sex, electrocution, non-consensual touching, threesome (m/m/m), kinda threesome anyway, brainwashing, mind control, handcuffs, torture, implied past relationships, post captain america: the winter soldier, object penetration, forced orgasm, rough oral sex, non-consensual oral sex, forced blowjob, dead dove: do not eat, inappropriate use of stun batons

Summary:

Steve miscalculated. This was his fault, all of it.

Steve, Sam, and Bucky are hunting down what is left of Hydra operations, half fueled by justice and vengeance, and the gnawing need to keep Bucky safe. They fall in over their heads.

yes, yes of course this is going to hurt by alcibiades

1.8k, bucky/winter soldier, stucky

hallucinations, pre captain america: the winter soldier, non-consensual drug use, solitary confinement, dehumanization, all the winter soldier tags, dissociation

Summary:

Hydra trash meme prompt: During a programming session, Bucky Barnes vividly hallucinates being raped by the Winter soldier. Additional warnings for a little bit of body horror and mention of spiders. Proceed with caution.

They leave him in a cell that has no windows and a heavy metal door. He slumps into a corner; his body is shaking all over, freezing cold and wet with some kind of icy slurry that drip-drip-drips into a puddle around him. He tries to ask them where he is, what they're doing, but his tongue is like a lead weight in his mouth and the best he manages are a few wordless groans.

"Leave him there," says a voice from outside the door, as it swings closed. "He'll be back to normal in a couple of hours."

For What It’s Worth by throttlegainwell

11.7k, stucky, steve/hydra agents

graphic depictions of violence, rape/non-con, protective steve rogers, protective bucky barnes, hurt steve rogers, hurt bucky barnes, hurt no comfort

Summary:

When he found the safehouse, after it had been scoured for evidence, he’d personally taken it down to studs. He recognized the room from the tape.

What he hadn’t recognized so far was any of the men from the tape. None of them had surfaced, none had been so involved in Project Insight that they hadn’t run for the hills when defeat was on the air. And he knew their faces. He knew them. He knew their ugly jeering voices and their obnoxious laughs and their appendectomy scars and at this point he might even recognize their dicks at a urinal.

He’d know them the second he saw them. If he saw them. Part of him hoped that Bucky wouldn’t, but Bucky seemed to remember a lot more than he claimed, so it seemed a stretch too far.

As he rather violently found out seven months later, on a side street in Prague at two thirty-three in the morning, it was.

Handler Protocol Mandate 384 by @hanitrash @buckybleeds

6.5k, 3 chapters, complete

Steve/Bucky, Steve/Bucky/Sam, past Bucky/hydra agents

dubious consent, bucky barnes recovering, dissociation, sam wilson does not get paid enough for this shit, whump, angst, hurt/comfort, hopeful ending, everything hurts but it gets better, bottom bucky barnes, service too steve rogers

Summary: Sam winds up in over his head when a very specific type of programming gets triggered at the abandoned HYDRA base.

Give Me Your Filth by @dsudis

15k, stucky

graphic depictions of violence, rape/non-con, torture, waterboarding, flashbacks, panic, restraints, hurt no comfort, internalized victim blaming

Summary:

"I don't care," Bucky said. "I don't care which one was you and which one was someone else. You're underneath me now. It's my turn. I do things now, and you lie there and take it."

This was going to hurt.

the day when I rose at dawn by radialarch

5k, stucky

graphic depictions of violence, rape/non-con, hydra made them do it, fisting, oral sex, pining, post captain america: the winter soldier

Summary:

The one where they go undercover as the Winter Soldier dragging a captive Captain America back to his masters.

In Hydra, Vine Do You by Quarra

27.5k, 2 chapters, complete

Steve/Bucky, Bucky/Hydra agents, Steve/Hydra agents

graphic depictions of violence, rape/non-con, gang rape, consentacles, plant monster steve, predicament bondage, gags, butt plugs, orgasm delay/denial, forced orgasm, multiple orgasms, cock & ball torture, non-consensual body modification, medical experimentation, multiple penetration, overstimulation, dehumanization, breath play, whatever the plant version of oviposition is*

*see ao3 for more tags

Summary:

While the Asset is in the middle of an experimentation session with the Chem Sci department, an emergency happens in another lab. One of the other experimental creatures escaped its containment cell and the Asset is ordered to go take care of it. He's hosed off, plugged up, geared up, and sent upstairs post-haste to deal with the problem.

Unfortunately, the Asset is still flush with drugs that make him incredibly aroused. When the escaped creature notices, he takes an interest.

Much to the Asset's delight.

Four Across by @justanotherstonyfan

5.7k, stucky

graphic depictions of violence, rape/non-con, oral sex, conditioning, triggers, hand jobs, anal play, knife play, comeplay

Summary:

Written for a prompt on the Hydra Trash Meme

So say HYDRA uses the Winter Soldier to seduce people as a spy as well as to assassinate people. Some people like it vanilla, some people like to dominate him - and some people want to be dominated by him. He's conditioned to be dominant when triggered by a certain word or phrase. There's a word/phrase to turn dom!WS off too, but the character of your choice has no idea what it is. They didn't mean to trigger this aspect of the Soldier, they just happened to say the wrong thing.

#fic recs #hydra trash party #bucky barnes #steve rogers #stucky #asks

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fancyfade · 3 years ago

Text

I really like the way Hardware (1993) addresses the topic of superhero ethics.

Quick synopsis of the set-up: Curtis Metcalf, genius inventor, comes from a working class family and winds up from his perspective being set up to be the heir apparent to the inventor/businessman, Edwin Alva, who takes him under his wing and funds his schooling and, once he graduates, his projects. However Alva was actually just funding his schooling and appearing to encourage him in his endeavors so he could lock Curtis in a contract that gives him no rights to the royalties his inventions makes Alva (unclear if he has any like legal right as in copyright to his inventions as well I would assume not but it was not addressed yet). Curtis can’t work for a competitor either in the same field so he’s essentially stuck working for Alva if he wants to do what he’s dedicated his entire life to (inventing technology stuff).

Curtis initially tries to get some blackmail material on Alva so he can get out of his contract, but finds out Alva is involved in the criminal underworld via weapons and drugs dealing and smuggling.

also the character’s races are important to the story: i’m going to not comment a lot on this because I don’t want to be talking out my ass, so I’m going to just be like... relating things without commentary or sourcing what the original intent was from the creators: Curtis is a black man and likens what Alva did to him as slavery. Denys Cowan, one of the co-founders of Milestone comics and artist on hardware 1993 and the new series, who worked with the main author of hardware (1993) dwayne mcduffie, mentions that Hardware’s experiencse and the way he is treated (especially the glass ceiling) are part of how it felt to be a black creator in comics (link). (Back to the comic, not the interview) Curtis points out how many people perceive him as angry and bitter with a chip on his shoulder (Curtis describes himself as angry for good reasons). Alva is a white man who is too big and has his hands in too many pockets for the evidence curtis initially got on him to stick.

This is why Curtis created hardware: initially, his plan was to blackmail alva, when he finds out what Alva is up to he tries to send the evidence to the authorities because it goes beyond his personal problems with Alva. Then when that fails, he creates his armored suit (which he calls Hardware) to interfere with Alva’s operations and prevent him from doing more damage while getting revenge.

When he initially starts out as Hardware, Curtis has very little social life, he divides himself entirely between working his day job as cover for Alva, then working his night job as Hardware. he barely sleeps due to this. When he’s hardware, has a variety of lethal weaponry, the biggest of which is his omnicannon (which seems to like.. explode everything? he KOs a helicopter with it). He uses his weapons only on people working for Alva who are usually trying to kill him as far as I can tell. He’s also pretty unconcerned with killing them. He blows up a helicopter with someone still in it, shoots people, drops a guy he had pulled out from a helicopter from an unsurvivable fall, and cuts off a the arm of a construction worker who was holding a gun on him.

Curtis is more thinking on his end goal (getting revenge on Alva and stopping Alva’s criminal enterprises) than he is the means he takes to get there.

Pretty early in the run, Curtis is injured and found by his long term female friend Barraki. Since she finds him in his Hardware armor, he has no choice but to tell her what’s going on and she is disgusted. She views Curtis as extremely selfish -- she refers to it as him killing people “because his boss wouldn’t give him a raise” with no visible remorse. Curtis says he has no remorse period, not just no visible remorse. Barraki leaves and says doesn’t feel like she actually knows him.

Curtis obviously cares a lot about her opinion, because once she makes her stance on it clear he is kind of at a loss of what to do. When she asks him what he wants, he says he just wants her approval (also that she’s his only friend and he doesn’t want to lose her).

He winds up solving things as Hardware non-lethally for a while (replaces his omnicannon supershot with a neural net to paralyze people rather than blowing them up, tho he still has access to the omnicannon’s main shell for when he needs it), gives alva’s employees in the stuff he’s blowing up time to evacuate, etc

Then he has like I guess this... dream sequence? Guilt induced dream? Where he is seeing the people he harmed (the guy who’s arm he chopped off talking to him about his injury and losing his job, the dead bodies of the people he killed) and then Curtis talking to him as he is Hardware (like a his non-armored civilian version is berating his armored version for his life choices) and giving him a running commentary on his own life up to this point. People who are either personally important to him (Barraki) or socially important (a priest, Oprah) attack him for his decisions. Then when it comes to who speaks in his defense in his dream, it’s his employer, Alva, who created this situation from when Curtis was a kid to exploit him and benefit off Curtis’s talents and treats Curtis as no more than a cog in his machine (When Curtis initially approaches Alva for his profits, he does so with the assumption he’ll get them, because he had believed Alva to be like a father to him, Alva laughs at him and says he’s not respected, merely useful, and dehumanizes him by likening him to a dog).

Dream Alva’s defense of Hardware’s previous actions is that as Hardware, Curtis is doing what he was supposed to do -- treating other people as expendable resources in pursuit of his goals. So in Curtis’s guilt, he likens himself to Alva, the man who has been treating him like a tool.

I think this is kind of interesting because it’s something I’ve seen a lot in recent discussions of whether it’s okay for superheroes to kill people and one of them is that when you kill a person you’re not just killing that person. You’re killing whoever they were to the people who cared about them, if they’re looking out for anyone you’re affecting whoever they were providing for as well -- I think that’s why the initial person who appeared in Curtis’ guilt-dream was not someone he killed but the man who’s arm he cut off. There’s sort of this commentary on humanizing people I suppose with how the villain so clearly dehumanizes Curtis and treats him as a tool to his own ends, and then how we see Curtis imagining how the people he injured or killed while being Hardware might be affected not just in terms of “they got injured or killed” but also he imagines whatever their lives beyond working for Alva were. Curtis’s guilt is humanizing them in his head where earlier he said he had no remorse whatsoever.

Throughout the comic, there’s this metaphor for being trapped in a cage and then getting out but not actually being free (initially told through Curtis’s pet parakeet he had as a kid -- the parakeet flew out of his cage and tried to get out via the window, but only kept busting his head against the window, unable to understand he couldn’t go outside)

[image: 3 comic panels from hardware 1993 #1 showing young curtis metcalf standing in front of a window where a parakeet is laying down on his side with his feathers ruffled. curtis grabs the parakeet gingerly in his hands and puts the bird back in the cage with a clang. his internal monologue reads “my bird made a common error. he mistook being out of his cage... for being free.” end image]

Curtis straight up says that his earlier actions as hardware were not letting him be free: he turned hardware into another cage.

[image: 3 comic panels from Hardware (1993) #4 showing barraki young and Curtis Metcalf standing and talking. Curtis is initially looking down regretfully at his hardware helmet. He says “I built the hardware armor to help me escape from the cage that alva put me in. Then I proceeded to turn hardware into yet another cage.” he looks at a parakeet that is flying around his house (his new pet) and says “see, Alva will make a mistake... eventually. And then I’ll put him away for good. That’s still very important to me. But it’s not going to be my whole life.” end image]

I don’t know whether the cage was supposed to only be in terms of how he conducted himself as Hardware or whether it also extended to work life balance (right after this he says that he was not going to make putting Alva away his whole life, he is letting Barraki in rather than pushing her away and he got the parakeet) and also his general view of the world (I already analyzed how he changes the way that he views the people working for alva). Either way I feel like the way that it was addressed was in a very satisfying manner that never wound up being preachy but did ask a lot of questions.

EDIT:

more commentary on the parakeet analogy from the writer of hardware: season one (the new relaunch)

The original Hardware #1 opened with a flashback of a young Curtis Metcalf remembering his pet parakeet escaping its cage only to be stopped by a barrier of glass, mistaking “being out of the cage for being free.” A brilliant meta-commentary, Thomas believes that it is “one of the greatest monologues in the history of comics,” and perfectly captures the entire story of being black in America.

#dc comics #hardware 1993 #hardware #curtis metcalf #barraki young #dakotaverse #racism #in terms of the comic commenting on it and the what hte creators experienced

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marauders-venting · 3 years ago

Text

i wanna be yours

pairing: dorlene (dorcas x marlene)

genre: fluff

warnings: none

words: 2122

note: inspired by the songs ‘I WANNA BE YOUR SLAVE’ by Måneskin and ‘i wanna be your girlfriend’ by girl in red

a/n: this is my first muggle au which is pretty exciting!! (it’s set at hogwarts but its a non-magical boarding school). also i love both of these songs so i kept listening to them as i was trying to write this and it was very distracting

“Marls, come on, duet with me,” Sirius begged. “What’s the point of karaoke if people don’t hear our angelic voices singing together?”

“Yeah, Marlene, go sing with Sirius,” Dorcas encouraged.

“Fine,” Marlene sighed, standing up. “But I have one condition: Dorcas has to sing a song as well.” Marlene crossed her arms, a mischievous twinkle in her eyes as she looked at Dorcas.

“Fine, it’s your funeral,” Dorcas said, shrugging. “Now go sing.”

“What are we singing, Siri?” Marlene asked.

‘I swear to god, Marlene, if you call me ‘Siri’ one more time—”

“You’re making me sing,” she interrupted. “I can call you whatever the fuck I want.”

“But it’s literally the name of an app—”

“Siri isn’t an app,” Remus said, not looking up from his phone. “It’s software that’s part of the iOS operating system. You don’t have to download an app to use it; it’s built into the software of your phone.”

“Yeah, yeah whatever,” Sirius said. “Moony, stop being so anti-social and come sing with us.” Remus looked up from his phone.

“Do you really expect me to sing?” he asks, raising his eyebrows.

“Fine then, don’t sing,” Sirius said. “Just come hear me sing.”

“Fine,” Remus said, but he smiled and joined Dorcas on the couch in front of what Sirius had clearly marked as his stage. “And I wasn’t being anti-social I was reading.”

“Reading is not socialising,” Lily said. “And since when do you read on your phone?”

“Since my favourite fanfic author updated their fic on ao3 and I’m too lazy to go get my computer.”

“Ok, ok me and Marlene are singing now so hush,” Sirius said.

“You still haven’t told me what we’re singing,” Marlene said, standing next to Sirius with her arms crossed.

“You’ll find out in a second,” Sirius said, scrolling through his playlist and selecting a song.

“I’m concerned,” Marlene said, trying to look over Sirius’ shoulder but he held his phone at an awkward angle so she wouldn’t be able to see. “At least pick a song that I know then.”

“Don’t worry you definitely know this song.” And then the song I WANNA BE YOUR SLAVE by Måneskin came on the speaker and a grin spread across Marlene’s face as she and Sirius started to sing.

“I wanna be your slave, I wanna be your master. I wanna make your heartbeat run like rollercoasters. I wanna be good boy, I wanna be your gangster, cause you could be the beauty and I could be the monster. I love you since this morning not just for aesthetic, I wanna touch your body so fucking electric…” Sirius winked at Remus, who blushed and bit his lip. Somebody wolf-whistled and Dorcas turned to find James and Peter laughing and Lily jabbing James in the ribs. Her eyes wandered back to Marlene, who was really getting into the song.

“And I’m a blond girl who’s searching for redemption—” at this, Marlene pulled the elastic out of her hair and shook it out. “And I’m a freak that is searching, Imma motherfucking monster who’s searching for redemption!” Marlene and Sirius started jumping around, hair flying, limbs flailing, laughing when they accidentally slapped each other. Marlene threw her hands in the air and her shirt lifted, exposing an inch of bare skin. Dorcas caught a flash of her belly button ring and the dragon tattoo that they knew started on Marlene’s hip and reached up to her waist. She looked away and swallowed hard. Dorcas knew that seeing this shouldn’t have any effect on them but why did Marlene have to be so gorgeous?

“I wanna be your slave, I wanna be your master.” They whispered the last line and Marlene’s eyes met Dorcas’. She smiled, her cheeks turning a faint pink before looking away, her blond hair falling into her face. Dorcas felt their heart racing in her chest but thought nothing of it. Her heartbeat always quickened when Marlene smiled at them.

“Oh my god, I love that song,” Marlene said, flopping onto the couch next to Dorcas. She turned to Sirius. “I thought you were going to pick some weird, shitty song that I hate.”

“I was going to,” Sirius admitted, “but my desire to sing a Måneskin song was greater than my desire to piss you off.”

“As it should be,” Marlene says.

“You guys were actually really good,” Dorcas says. They knew that both Marlene and Sirius could sing but she wasn’t sure this song was quite the style that suited their voices. Apparently, it was exactly their style.

“Obviously,” Sirius said, one hand now slung around Remus’ shoulders.

“Thanks, Dorcas,” Marlene said, smiling at her again. Dorcas felt the familiar flutter in their stomach. “Ok, I sang, now it’s your turn.”

“Ugh, Marly, don’t make me do this,” Dorcas groaned. “You know I can’t sing.”

“First of all, yes you can; I’ve heard you. Second of all, who cares?” Marlene said. “We had a deal, now go sing.”

“I hate you,” they said.

“Love you too, Dorcas,” Marlene smirked. Dorcas felt like she was being stabbed and getting butterflies all at once. Because Marlene loved them. They didn’t doubt that. It was true. But there was no way that Marlene loved her in the same way that they loved Marlene. And the thought of that made Dorcas die inside.

She couldn’t keep going like this. Being around Marlene all the time, pretending that they’re not desperately in love with her. And Marlene not knowing. That was the worst part.

Dorcas told Marlene everything. Marlene was the one person that Dorcas shared all her secrets with, all her problems and her worries. And Marlene always knew how to help them. She could make Dorcas feel better even if she couldn’t solve their problems. Marlene was Dorcas’ first friend at Hogwarts. She was the first person that Dorcas had come out to and vice versa. She was the person who had helped Dorcas experiment with different pronouns and genders before they found what felt right. Marlene meant everything to Dorcas. But Dorcas had been keeping a secret from Marlene for months now. This was one problem that Dorcas was sure Marlene couldn't help her with. But Dorcas couldn’t pretend any longer. And besides, Marlene deserved to know.

So when Sirius handed them his phone to play her song, Dorcas picked a song she knew she would regret. They already did. But she was going to do this anyway. She picks the original version of the song, not the karaoke version. This way at least if they sound bad, girl in red will mask the sound with her voice.

She takes the fake plastic microphone and stands up in front of all their friends. As the music starts playing from the speaker, their eyes meet Marlene’s, who smiles and gives her an encouraging nod. Dorcas smiles back sadly, knowing that this was probably the last time Marlene would look at them like that, smile shining, eyes sparkling. Beautiful. So, so beautiful. Dorcas keeps her eyes locked on Marlene’s and starts to sing.

“Oh Hannah, I wanna feel you close. Oh Hannah, come lie with my bones. Oh Hannah, don’t look away. Oh Hannah, just look at me the same.” Dorcas hadn’t taken their eyes off Marlene but Marlene wasn’t looking away either. She wondered if Marlene knew that they were singing about her. Dorcas tried to convey her thoughts to Marlene through their expression.

“I don’t wanna be your friend, I wanna kiss your lips. I wanna kiss you until I lose my breath. I don’t wanna be your friend, I wanna kiss your lips. I wanna kiss you until I lose my breath.” Marlene raised her eyebrows slightly, asking the question with her eyes. Dorcas gave the tiniest nod. She was tempted to look away, to spare themselves from having to see Marlene’s reaction. But they didn’t. She kept her eyes locked on Marlene’s and sang.

“Oh Hannah, tell me something nice. Like flowers and blue skies. Oh Hannah, I will follow you home. Although my lips are blue and I’m cold. I don’t wanna be your friend, I wanna kiss your lips. I wanna kiss you until I lose my breath.” Marlene was still staring at her, lips parted in surprise. It could not have been plainer that Dorcas was singing to Marlene. They felt their heart pound in her chest. Marlene knows. And she’s not looking away in disgust. Her cheeks are flushed but she doesn’t look uncomfortable or angry. She just looks shocked. Dorcas thinks the anticipation might kill her but they’re determined to finish the song. Determined to tell Marlene exactly how they feel.

“I don’t wanna be your friend, I wanna be your bitch. And I wanna touch you but not like this.” Dorcas feels herself blushing as they sing the words and for the first time in the whole song, they close their eyes, breaking eye contact with Marlene. When Dorcas opens her eyes again, they see Marlene standing up. She seems as surprised to find herself on her feet as Dorcas is.

“The look in your eyes, my hand between your thighs—” The words die in Dorcas’ throat as they feel lips on hers. Marlene is kissing her. Marlene is kissing her. Her lips are soft, her touch gentle and unsure but Dorcas feels electric currents running through her veins as Marlene’s thumb brushes their cheek and reaches into their hair. And all the while, girl in red keeps singing in the background. Oh, this can’t be real, it’s all just a dream. But it is real. They’re kissing for real. And Dorcas’ hand is on Marlene’s waist for real. And their hips are touching for real. I don’t wanna be your friend, I wanna kiss your lips. I wanna kiss you until I lose my breath. When they break apart, Dorcas is breathless. She keeps her eyes closed until they feel Marlene take her hand. They open their eyes and see Marlene, her cheeks flushed, her eyes bright, a smile tugging at her pink lips.

“Were you— was that supposed to be— were you singing… to me?” Marlene stuttered. Dorcas nods.

“And I meant it,” they said, caressing Marlene’s cheek with her thumb. “I meant every word I sang.” Marlene rested her forehead against Dorcas’ and she closed their eyes again. Marlene squeezed Dorcas’ hand and held it against her abdomen. Dorcas tilted their chin down and kissed Marlene again, her hand rubbing Marlene’s stomach. Marlene sighed and suddenly Dorcas became very aware of the fact that all of their friends were watched them. She stepped back and Marlene turned around. They both blushed but Dorcas couldn’t keep the smile off their face. Lily caught her eye and gave them a thumbs-up, which only made Dorcas smile more. Sirius was smirking at Marlene.

“I told you so,�� he said.

“I will kick you,” Marlene threatened. She took Dorcas by the hand and pulled them out of the common room.

They went down to the lake and took off their socks and shoes. They sat quietly for a while, their feet dangling in the water.

“I can’t believe…” Marlene started, breaking the silence, “I mean, this whole time we liked each other and neither one of us said anything.”

“Well, I sang just now,” Dorcas said defensively.

“You were amazing by the way,” Marlene said, taking her hand and lacing their fingers together. “Your voice is beautiful. I told you you can sing.” Dorcas shrugged.

“Sing something for me,” Marlene whispered. “Please.”

“I don’t wanna be your friend.” Dorcas sang the words quietly, slower than the tune of the song. They tucked a strand of Marlene’s hair behind her ear. “I wanna kiss your lips.” She pulled Marlene in slowly by the back of her neck and fitted their mouths together. Her hand finds Marlene’s waist and they pull her closer. Marlene’s hand is on Dorcas’ thigh drawing small circles with her finger. Dorcas sighs and she feels the smile form in Marlene’s mouth as they slide their tongue into her mouth.

When they finally break apart, they flop onto the grass and look at the night sky, littered with stars. Marlene turns to face Dorcas, propped up on her elbow.

“So what do you say?” she asks. “Can I be your girlfriend?” Dorcas laughs.

“You even have to ask?” they say. “Yes, you can be my girlfriend. But there’s one condition,” she adds, smiling mischievously. Now it’s Marlene’s turn to laugh.

“Oh? What’s that?”

“I wanna be yours,” Dorcas says.

“Hmm, let me think about that,” Marlene says, sarcastically, but she smiles at Dorcas and squeezes their hand. “Yes, Dorcas,” she says quietly, “you can be mine.” And Marlene kisses her.

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herinsectreflection · 4 years ago

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The Killer In Me is so frustrating. It’s such a fantastic idea, to have Willow becoming Warren. It’s the two Big Bads of S6 folded into one. And it’s really not appreciated enough much the pair of them parallel each other. They’re two parts of a trifecta throughout S6, along with Spike, of people violating their partner’s consent. Warren attempts to rape Katrina via mind control, Willow wipes Tara’s mind (and has sex with her afterwards; the show doesn’t present it as rape but that should be remembered), and Spike attempts to rape Buffy. These three can compare against Buffy herself, who starts the season having her consent violated by being ripped out of heaven, and spends much of it skirting the line of sexual consent with Spike (her starting to have invisible sex with him in Gone for example). (Damn, consent is just huge in S6).

What’s interesting about these three is that though these consent violations peak in S6, they all exhibited a pattern of this behaviour long before - it was just treated much more lightly. Spike happily declares that he’s going to tie Drusilla up and torture her until she loves him again in Lover’s Walk - though they are vampires, so maybe we shouldn’t judge to much - but then it shouldn’t be surprising that he ends up basically trying the same tactic with Buffy. Warren was introduced building a robot girlfriend - initially treated as kind of sad and gross, but basically unthreatening, but viewed alongside S6 clearly foreshadows a pathological desire from Warren to control women, and anger at them for existing as flawed people. And as for Willow, you have episodes like Something Blue, or again Lover’s Walk, in which Willow leaps to magic to remove emotions that she finds inconvenient, with no regard for consent. Earlier this led to wacky hijinks, but in S6 it’s exposed for the abusive tactic it is. This season takes these ideas to their logical and terrible conclusion. It’s kind of like S6 is the uncanny nightmare version of the earlier seasons, where everything that happened before happens again, but this time it’s horrifying and scarring and leaves everyone broken.

Willow and Warren continue their similarities by both lashing out murderously when upset. Warren in Dead Things and Seeing Red, Willow in Villains. Willow’s anger is obviously wildly more sympathetic, but the outcome is the same - blood and death. It’s a cycle of anger that takes an act of pure compassion from Xander to break. And both approach villainy in the same way - bigging themselves up as dangerous supervillains and purposefully positioning themselves as Buffy’s nemesis. Warren with his “The Trio” moniker and over-the-top gadgets, Willow with her all-black outfit and throwing out cheesy puns in Two to Go - both of them are playing dress-up. They both kind of want to be 80s Batman villains, just to cover up the rage inside them.

It’s so fascinating to look at how these two characters operate in such similar ways, and have such similar moral flaws. Warren is a more heinous person overall, but Willow has the same approach when it comes to the ethics of mind-controlling your significant other. It’s an uncomfortable tension, given that the two are so different on the surface - a queer feminist wiccan woman .vs. an aggressively heterosexual incel man. Willow notes this tension in The Killer in Me, expressing disgust at the idea of turning into a misogynist man. We’re forced to reckon with that fact that our lesbian witch hero has so much in common with the reddit-neckbeard villain. The cutting back between the two visages is really clever on the episode’s part to emphasise this.

The frustrating part is that they have all these parallels and common themes set up by a whole season, and then they just pull short of actually condemning Willow. Instead of really having her, and us in the audience, come to terms with how similar Willow’s behaviour was to Warren, the episode shifts the focus to Willow’s guilt over kissing Kennedy, and how she feels that betrays Tara. This is one of my biggest problems with the way Willow’s storyline was handled, because this wasn’t a betrayal of Tara - what was a betrayal of Tara was Willow violating her mind, which after Tabula Rasa I don’t think was treated as seriously as it should’ve been. Instead of using the Willow/Warren parallels to confront that action, the show instead focuses Willow’s guilt on her romance with Kennedy, which for is less interesting because it’s Kennedy, but also kind of nullifies the point of having her turn into Warren. What’s the point of that if you’re not going to deal with her most Warren-like action?

It’s not that The Killer In Me is a bad episode. There are way too many interesting ideas and pre-existing parallels in play for that. But with what was set up for it, it should be a fantastic and heart-wrenching episode, and it’s just not. The “fairytale ending” that centers Kennedy as both the cause of and resolution to Willow’s guilt dampens the whole thing. It’s not even because Kennedy is a bad character - it’s just that she wasn’t there and isn’t tied to Willow’s actions on S6, so having her as such an integral part of the episode that tries to reckon with those actions weakens it.

#btvs #willow rosenberg #warren mears #the killer in me #s7 #s6 #spike #cw rape #meta

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peemil · 3 years ago

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☕evangelion 😳

y'all are killing me

the more time i spend apart from this show, the more i find myself kind of hating it shsjhl;hjsdhjso;d. i am somehow now in an even worse place mentally than i was when i first watched evangelion but even so i am NOT letting myself fall in the same traps of woobifying shinji and excusing the behaviors i shared with him and vice versa.

starting with my most general take, i don't like the rebuilds. like, at all. granted, i haven't seen 3.0 + 1.0 yet, and i will be avoiding spoilers until there is an official english translation, but i feel like the rebuilds are kind of what you get when you listen a little too hard to people who didn't get the psychological parts of eva and spent the latter half of the series wishing it would go "back" to being a regular mecha anime (which it never was in the first place). the rebuilds lack a lot of the same internal conflicts that drive the characters (especially shinji), and higher budget means the rebuilds can be more direct in their storytelling and less reliant on alternative ways of communicating ideas, which causes the rebuilds to lose some of the avant-garde present in the original series. as a result, it's jarring to see some of the attempts made at this in 3.0, and painful to watch these attempts fail, as they have no real precedent in the film series. the best way for me to explain the rebuilds is they feel like sterilized and polished, but hollow versions of the original anime series. but maybe i'm just biased, because none of the things i liked about the original are present in the films.

on to more minutiae... i've said it once and i'll say it again, asuka langley soryu is a LESBIAN and there's nothing anyone can do to make me stop reading her character in this way. the only male characters she is depicted as having any romantic feelings towards in the series just (unintentionally) so... comphet. her obsessive flirting with kaji is rooted in her need to prove her worth as an adult, i.e., to prove to others that she is something she inherently is not. plus, he's older, and he's conventionally attractive, so if she didn't have feelings for him (or at least publicly perform having feelings for him), she'd be out of her mind, right? asuka is also someone shown to pursue connections out of convenience (literally citing it as her primary reason for wanting to be friends with rei), and any intimacy she shares with shinji (i.e., their kissing scene) is done only because 1. she's bored 2. shinji is the closest person available. i find the notion that she's a tsundere hiding her real feelings for him laughable, because we've seen what asuka is like around people she genuinely likes and whom she wants to like: the hatred she shows for rei takes a different form from her hatred for shinji: whereas asuka is disgusted by shinji, she is resentful towards rei. her resentment towards rei curiously begins only after rei rejects asuka's offer of friendship, so i am inclined to believe that asuka's feelings of anger when she sees rei receives more respect than she believes she does at nerv are compounded by the fact that she wanted to like rei and have a connection with rei, but wasn't permitted to do so. we also get to see how asuka acts around the one person with whom asuka is able to form a meaningful connection with, whom she lets herself trust and open up to: hikari. asuka actually has fun with hikari and feels safe enough around her to not only seek refuge with her and her family in her time of need, but also to admit that her rage is mostly towards none other than herself. her behavior towards shinji is nothing like her behavior towards either of these characters, but it is not much different from her behavior towards kensuke and toji, two other boys in her class, so maybe... maybe she just doesn't like boys? lol. i'm aware that asuka is genuinely homophobic and awful in the episode 24 drafts, and that it was in no way, shape, or form the writers' intent to turn that into some sort of commentary on internalized homophobia. but with the canon footage that did get animated, i'm really not sure how else i'm supposed to analyze this aspect of her character.

similarly, i don't appreciate how many fans will treat headcanoning shinji as gay instead of bi is somehow "bi erasure." number one, shinji's behavior and attitudes towards the women around him is actually kind of appalling, so i wouldn't necessarily want to use his objectification of and acts of violence against their bodies as particularly strong evidence that he's genuinely attracted to women. number two, of course a show about a young man made in the late 90's is going to try to portray the people to whom he is attracted primarily as women. partially because they can't start from the get-go with him having his teenage sexual awakening with another male—for a mainstream anime, that wouldn't be profitable—and partially because this is an anime and showing women and girls in a sexual light is profitable. and given shinji's role of audience surrogate, of course he is going to be the one doing the ogling and sexualizing because he is us, and after all, it is the viewer who wants to see the anime tiddies, no? shinji's more sexual encounters with the women in his life are always either deeply awkward, uncomfortable, and even unnatural, or they completely obectify and commodify the bodies of the women in question. for this reason, i have always seen these moments as existing without genuine attraction: only either confusion (because these situations really are quite blatantly sexual) or simply a disingenuous performance of the attraction shinji thinks he should be displaying, manifesting as the same objectification of women he has seen men exhibit for all of his life—it's little more than a mimicry of the bad behavior he has grown up watching, because that's what he thinks attraction towards women is supposed to look like. conversely, his actions with kaworu, while skittish, seem to come much more organically. shinji is constantly and consistently drawn to kaworu, in addition to being willing to open up to kaworu in ways he doesn't let himself with any other person. granted, kaworu is the only person to give shinji the love he desperately needs and craves throughout the entire course of the series, but the fact that kaworu is the first person shinji genuinely acts like a kid his age with a massive crush in a way that doesn't feel blatantly scripted around, as well as the fact that shinji goes on to feel more slighted by kaworu's perceived betrayal than any mistreatment he experiences from anyone in the whole course of the series (save for his literal father)... idk. sus lol

been awhile since i've done a proper rewatch of this show so i can't speak super generally since i unfortunately don't remember too much. one thing i will say though, i LOVE how the series is very upfront about the fact that shinji's loneliness and trauma (and loneliness and trauma in general) are going to be core themes in the series from the start. people say the first 6 episodes are slow just because they don't have as much action as some of the episodes in the middle of the series, but i remember speeding through them in one sitting because i wanted to understand more about shinji and his inner workings; i was fascinated by his psychology. people famously refer to evangelion as a bait-and-switch, and maybe that's true to a degree, because i don't think anyone really saw the shift to more trippy animation coming, but the psychological themes present in the latter parts of the series are still very present in episodes 1-4. i'm also amused by people who say they're "caught off guard" by the last four or so episodes, because the major shift towards being a show primarily about psychology really begins in episode 16, when eva unit 01 is consumed by leliel and shinji has to confront the "self within his self" for the first time in the train car of his mind. i know it begins as just another angel fight but like... guys... how did you miss that... episode 16, because it really is where this shift begins, is actually my favorite episode in the entire series. that, and it was where i was first introduced to this hegelian concept of each person functioning both as an actor or operator who carries out actions, as well as an audience perceiving and observing their actions, their thoughts, and themself. which, to a degree, solidifies the notion that anything and everything technically could be considered performance. it's made my work much, much easier and my day-to-day life much, much more dramatic.

#nge #he scream at own follower #i'm sorry for talking so much about shinji and asuka. the worst part is that theoretically i could say even more #i haven't even started with rei #though she reminds me of someone i lost contact with so i get too emotional about her to say much of any real value

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platinumsun490 · 4 years ago

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Sonic and Friends: Last of Us AU-Knuckles

Thanks to the inspiration of solar-socks, who thought of the idea of putting Knuckles the Echidna in place of Abby from the Last of Us, I have written my own version of his backstory as to why he hates Tom, in place of Joel, and Sonic, in place of Ellie. Like Abby, Knuckles loses his dad, but I added a bit more to that. Gotta warn you though, this does not have a happy ending. Each piece of the story is something that led Knuckles to the final conclusion of killing Tom and getting revenge.

nothing but ANGST

Knuckles watched from the little secluded area he and his father, Locke, had hiked out to as echidnas of all kinds walked in and out of the hospital, either to help or to visit. While he knew it was important for him to be there, seeing how he was going to be the next leader, it was nice to get away every once in a while. Just then, Vector, a crocodile, and Espio, a chameleon, came running up to them from a distance.

“Sir, that hedgehog showed up,” Vector said breathlessly.

Locke rolled his eyes, unknowing. “What hedgehog?”

“The one your wife keeps talking about.”

Knuckles stopped rummaging through his bag to stare at Vector and Espio, who couldn’t be saying what he thought they were saying. Espio stepped forward, saying, “They found him in the tunnels. He has an old bite mark on his arm. No signs of infection.”

The echidna warrior watched as his father, Locke the echidna, blinked a few times in shock, shaking his head and saying, “That can’t be.”

“They’re already runnin’ tests on him, but…you gotta get down there,” Vector said. Both of them seemed to be in disbelief. Knuckles couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

After so many years of saying the echidna people, his people, would have a cure for the Zombot Metal Virus soon, it finally happened. He remembered watching his parents preach about it sometimes, like religious leaders saying the word of an otherworldly being. At first, he thought his parents were going crazy, and chose to stick by his friend’s sides, but now, this news practically proved his parents right. He watched Locke shift his weight nervously from one foot to the other. “Dad?” he asked timidly.

He merely pointed down the path they had originally came from, silently telling them to head back to base. Vector and Espio left first, most likely to spread the news further, and Knuckles watched as his father took him by the arm and pulled him to the main building, a hospital.

//////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

Knuckles watched as his mother and father discussed the operation in his dad’s main office. Locke was trying to explain how there was no way to remove the specimen without destroying the host. Lara-Le, Knuckles’s mother, was clearly not happy about his father’s wording. “The host? He is a child, not some petri dish.”

“You think I don’t-” Locke’s voice began to raise, but he quickly contained himself and said, “I’m aware of the situation.”

“And you’re okay with killing him?” Lara-Le asked with a grim expression. It scared Knuckles a bit to see his mother so upset. He was used to a negative attitude from his dad, but not his mother. She was always so positive about things, keeping everyone’s heads up when it felt like there was nothing else.

“No, Lara. I’m okay with developing a vaccine that’ll help save millions of lives. How many echidnas have died for less?”

Lara grew angry. She jabbed a finger at Locke’s chest, pushing him back a bit. “That was their choice. Are you asking me, or are you telling me this is how it’s gonna be?”

Locke moved closer to her, but she stood her ground. Knuckles watched his father place his hands comfortingly on Lara’s shoulders. “I am begging you to buy in.”

Lara didn’t hesitate with a response. “And what if this was Knuckles?” Knuckles watched as Locke’s expression changed slightly, just slightly, before going back to serious.

“Look, everything that we’ve been fighting for, all the sacrifices, all the horrific…all of that is justified with this one act.”

“If this was our son, what would you do?” Lara asked again calmly. She was starting to scare Knuckles. Locke stood there, not saying anything, which made Lara turn and leave. Before she walked out, she said, “I’m telling the human, Tom. He has a right to know.”

She faltered when she noticed Knuckles sitting on the floor next to the doorway, but she just rubbed his head and walked away. Knuckles then stood up and walked into the room, where his dad was leaning against the desk with a dark look, his body showing signs of tiredness. Walking up next to his father, Knuckles said, “If it was me, I’d want you to do the surgery.”

Locke took his son’s hand and gripped it tightly, like a patient on a lifeline. Knuckles watched his father wipe a few tears away, then walk away to do what he had to do.

////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

Knuckles watched as Vector and Espio leaned over a bleeding body.

His father’s body.

Dropping his weapon, Knuckles stumbled into the room, gaining his friend’s attention. Espio took a step back while Vector stood up and held his hands out, saying, “Knuckles…”

“Is that…?” Knuckles whispered. He felt all the blood drain from his face, his hands shake as he saw a scalpel from the operation jammed into his father’s neck. Blood was staining the floor a dark red, darker than his fur tone, darkening to a sickly brown color.

Knuckles watched as Vector moved towards him, not to comfort, but to stop. It was then that Knuckles realized he was screaming. He was screaming for his father. He didn’t know he could make such a horrid sound. It scared him. “No! DAD! DAD, NO!!” Falling to his knees, Knuckles curled up in Vector’s arms and started to sob violently, his breathing erratic and ragged. He buried his face in Vector’s shoulder, continuing to cry over his loss.

/////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

Knuckles watched as a thief who had broken in interrogated Lara-Le about the cure for the virus. The human, Tom Wachowski, had taken the hedgehog, Sonic, away from their home, leaving the echidna race to fend for itself after years of saying they had a cure and ended up not having one. Now, people, humans and Mobians alike, had gotten angry.

“Tell me where you people hide the cure or I’m going to make sure you have one less mouth to feed,” the man said as he held Knuckles down at gunpoint.

Lara stiffened at the sight, then took a deep breath, put on a serious expression, and bargained, “If I show you where it is, will you let my son go?”

Knuckles watched the man nod, then yelped when he literally kicked out of the room. Knuckles reached for his mother, but she just smiled tearfully at him as she led the man away.

Minutes later, as Knuckles and a few survivors were escaping, he heard a gunshot.

//////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

Knuckles watched as Tom tried to climb the fire escape as fast as he had done. Tom had ran into Knuckles on a supply run and saved him from being bitten or killed from one of the monster. Now, a horde of Infected was closing in on them, and they didn’t have much time.

Thankfully, one of the buildings still had its fire escapes attached to it, despite the ruins around them. Tom finally reached the top, but one of the steps gave out and left him dangling off the edge.

He scrambled to climb over, but he didn’t have a good grip. With a sneer of disgust, Knuckles grabbed Tom by the front of his shirt and lifted him up with ease, ignoring the man’s panicked yelling. He wanted to do this. He wanted Tom to remember who he was.

“Did you hear about what happened to the echidnas after you ran off with the only hope the world had? Do you know how many died at the hands of murderers and Infected?” Knuckles seethed through clenched teeth. Tom looked confused for a second, then frantic. He thrashed in Knuckles’ hold, hitting and kicking, but to no avail. The red echidna lifted him higher, scowling with absolute hatred. The faces of his parents and friends flashed in front of him, making him hesitate. They wouldn’t want him to do this…

Knuckles let Tom go.

Knuckles watched as Tom’s body slammed into the fire escape a few times, then hit the ground with a sickening thud. Infected after Infected jumped onto Tom, and Knuckles turned away, just as Tom’s screams were cut short.

“NOOOOOOOO!!!!”

The echidna looked up in surprise to see Sonic standing on a building near them, having seen the whole thing. His expression was one of shock, fear, defeat, and anger. He glared at Knuckles and sobbed as he fell to the ground, curling in on himself. Knuckles watched Sonic choke on his own breathing, but actually stepped back a bit when Sonic grew rageful.

“I’ll fucking kill you!” Sonic shrieked, filling the empty space around them with an echo of his threat. “You hear me, you bastard?! I’ll kill you for this!”

Knuckles watched Sonic sob uncontrollably for a few seconds before grabbing his bag and jumping over to the next building. He was done here. That was all that mattered to him.

For once in his life, Knuckles didn’t stand by and watch. For once, he did something.

#sonic the hedgehog #sonic the movie 2020 #sonic last of us au #knuckles the echidna #tom wachowski #last of us 2 #last of us #last of us au #angst #hurt no comfort #not a happy ending #i got sad while writing this

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whitehotharlots · 4 years ago

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Previewing the 2024 Democrat Primary

Within a couple weeks of his being sworn in, just about every person on earth will wish Joe Biden was no longer president. Sure, the few surviving John B. Anderson voters will be thrilled to see 4 years of crushing austerity and half-assed attempts at Keynesian stimulus. But most people will begin dreaming about a brighter future.

Good news! The 2024 Democratic primary field is going to contain dozens of options. Bad news! They are all going to be disgusting piles of shit.

The “top tier”

While it’s too early to do any handicapping, these are the candidates the media will treat as having the most realistic chances of securing the nomination.

Kamala Harris

Kamala did not win a single primary delegate in 2020. This is because she dropped out before the first primary, and that was because no one likes her. She has no base beyond a few thousand of twitter’s most violent psychos. Her disingenuousness approaches John Edwards levels: any halfway incredulous person can see immediately beyond her bullshit. She has no principles whatsoever, and while that may be par for the course for Democrats, she lacks even the basic politician’s ability to intuit anything that might, hypothetically, constitute a principle.

Even better: she is an awful public speaker. She sounds like how a talking dog would speak if he were just caught stealing people food off the kitchen table. She communicates in weird grunts and faux sassy squeaks, which is how she imagines real black women sound like, but something about her is unable to sell the bit. She begins her sentences in halfhearted AAVE, stops and panics halfway through as she realizes that maybe this sounds fake and offensive, and then reminds herself oh wait, no, this is okay since I’m black. This doesn’t happen once or twice per speech. This is how every single sentence sounds.

Kamala is like Nancy Pelosi in that no sketch show will ever impersonate her correctly, because anything that came close to authenticity would be considered far too cruel. This might benefit her in the primaries, as she exists in the minds of Democrats as someone and something she absolutely is not in reality. Nominating her would be like allowing your child’s imaginary friend to attempt to drive you to the store.

Andrew Cuomo

Easily one of the 50 worst people alive, Cuomo has a solid chance because Democrats, same as Republicans, are unable to differentiate between electability and self-serving ruthlessness. Cuomo used the deadliest public health crisis in American history as a pretext for cutting Medicaid and firing 5,000 MTA workers, and his approval rating increased. New York Dems are little piggies who love eating shit. If we assume that the political media will continue their habit of refusing to discuss the legislative history of right wing Democrats, Cuomo might well cruise to the nomination and then lose to literally any human being the GOP nominates by an historic margin.

Joe Biden

The party loves him because he is a right wing racist. “Progressives” tolerate him because black primary voters over 40 supported him, and their opinion is supposedly a magic window into god’s truth. Everyone else can tell he is manifestly senile. I don’t put it above the DNC to pick a candidate who is in horrible health, dying, or even dead--whatever the financial sector wants, they’ll get. But I would be shocked if his approval rating is above 39% by mid-2023, and by that point deep fake technology will be advanced enough they’ll put out a very lifelike video in which the Max Headroom version of Joe explains he’s proud of his accomplishments--that budget’s almost balanced already--but, man, I gotta abd--I gotta abdica--, uhh, I gotta, I, uhh, I gotta move down, man.

Wild Cards

These candidates would have all have a chance if they ran, but they could all much more easily retire to Little Saint James off of kickbacks they’ve gotten from Citibank and I.G. Farben.

Rahm Emanuel

Rahm is going to receive some hugely influential post in the Biden administration. Let’s say he becomes Secretary of Education. His signature achievement will be replacing all elementary school teachers with Amazon’s Alexa, which saved the taxpayers so much money we were able to quadruple the number of armed police officers we put into high schools. This will give him several thousand positive profiles on network news programs and the near-universal support of the Silicon Valley vampires who will own 99% of the country by the time Biden’s term ends. They will use their fancy mind control devices to convince geriatic primary voters that Rahm’s the one who will bring Decency back to the white house. His candidacy will be the paragon of wokeness, as expressing concern toward the fact that he covered up the police murder of a black guy will get you called a racist.

Rahm has a bonus in that Jewish men are now Schrodeniger’s PoC. When they are decent human beings, they are basic, cis white men who are stealing attention from disabled trans candidates of color. When they love austerity and apartheid, they become the most vulnerable people of color on earth and criticizing them in any way is genocide. No one will be able to mention a single thing Rahm has ever done or said without opening themselves to accusations of antisemitism, and that gives him a strong edge against the rest of the field. The good news is that an Emmanuel candidacy would result in over 50% of black voters choosing the GOP candidate--which, I guess that’s not really good but it would certainly be funny.

Gavin Newsom

Newsom is every bit as feckless as Cuomo, but he doesn’t put off the same “bad guy in an early Steven Segal movie” vibes. He will mention climate change 50 times per speech and no one will bother to mention how he keeps signing fracking contracts even though his state is now on fire 11 months of the year. If anything, this will be spun into an argument about how he’s actually the candidate best suited to handle all the water refugees gathering on the southern border. Look for his plan to curb emissions by 10% by the year 2150 to get high marks from Sierra Club nerds. He’s also a celebate librarian’s idea of what constitutes a handsome man, so he’ll have some support from the type of women who claim to hate all men.

Larry Summers

I mean, why not? Larry, like most members of the Obama administration, has politics that are eerily similar to those of Jordan Peterson. In normal circumstances, this makes a person a dangerous fascist who should not be platformed. But if that person has a D next to their name this makes them a realistic pragmatist who has what it takes to bring suburban bankers into our tent. If current trends in Woke Phrenology continue apace, Larry’s belief that women are inherently bad at STEM will be liberal orthodoxy by 2023, and his dedication to the Laffer Curve could see him rake in massive donations. Seriously, I’m not kidding: cultural liberalism is now fully dedicated to identity essentialism and balanced budgets. Larry is their ideal candidate. If he were black and/or a woman, I’d put him in the very top tier.

Jay Inslee

Unlike Newsom, Inslee’s attempt to crown himself the King of Global Warming won’t be immediately derailed, since his state is only on fire because of protestors. This, however, poses a different problem. He’s going to be a good test case for the Democrat’s uneasy peace with the ever increasing share of the electorate who become catatonic upon hearing a pronoun. On the one hand, you need to take their votes for granted. On the other hand, they’re not like black people or regular gays: most voters actively, consciously despise wokies, and associating yourself with them will ruin a campaign even in deep blue areas. There’s still gonna be riots in a year. Biden’s gonna announce the sale of all our nation’s potable water to the good folks at Nestle and some trans freak named Sasha-Malia DeBalzac is going to use that as an opportunity to sell their new pamphlet about how it’s fascist to not burn down small businesses. No matter what Inslee does in response, it’ll end his career.

AOC

I’m not one of those “AOC is a secret conservative” weirdos, but I am aware enough of basic reality to know she has zero chance of coming close to the nomination. The right and the center both regard her as a literal demon. The party is already blaming her for the fact that a handful of faceless Reagan acolytes failed to flip their suburban districts even though they ran on sensible pragmatic proposals like euthanizing the homeless. The recriminations will only get more unhinged when the Dems eat shit in the 2022 midterms. She will be a Russian, she will be white male, she will be a communist, she will be a homophobe: any insult or conspiracy theory you can name, MSNBC will spend hours discussing. Her house seat challenger will receive a record amount of support from the DNC in 2024 and it’ll be all she can do to remain in congress.

Larry Hogan

Don’t be dissuaded by the fact that he’s a Republican. Larry is the DNC’s ideal candidate: a physically repulsive conservative who owes his entire career to appealing to the most spiteful desires of suburban white people. He’s an open racist in a material sense--if you’re old-school enough to think racism is a matter of beliefs and actions, rather than the presence of cultural signifiers--but his is the beloved “never Trump” style of racism that Dems covet. He’s also a Proven Leader who thinks the role of government should be to finance the construction of investment property and give police the resources they need to run successful drug trafficking operations. Few people embody the Democrat worldview more than Larry.

The Losers Bracket

These people will have at least a small chance due solely to the fact that the Democrats love losing. They have lost in the past, and in the Democrat Mind that makes them especially qualified.

Joe Kennedy

The man looks like a mushroom-human hybrid from a JRPG. Trump proved that physical hideousness need not doom a presidential bid, but a candidate still needs some kind of charm or oratorical abilities or, god forbid, a decent platform. Joe aggressively lacks all of these things. A vanity campaign would be a good way to raise money and perhaps secure an MSNBC gig, so Joe might still run.

Mayor Pete

I am 100% convinced that Pete’s 2020 run was a CIA plot meant to prevent working class Americans from ever having a chance of living decent lives. I am also 100% aware that Democrats are dumb enough to enthusiastically support a CIA plot meant to prevent working class Americans from ever having a chance of living decent lives. If we have some sort of military or terror disaster between now and 2023 the Dems are sure to want a TROOP, and wait wait wait you’re telling me this one is a gay troop? Holy hell there’s no way that could lose!

Stacy Abrams

Never underestimate the power of white guilt. She lost the gubernatorial race to Gomer Pyle’s grandson, and her spiritual guidance of the Dems saw the party lose black voters in Georgia in 2020. Nonetheless, she is regarded as a magic font of fierceness within the DNC. She might stand a chance if she can establish herself as the most conservative non-white candidate in the field, but there’s going to be stiff competition for that honor.

Elizabeth Warren

Liz is probably angry that the party so shamelessly sold her out even after she was a good little girl and sabatoged Bernie’s campaign for them--yet another example of high ranking US government officials reneging on their promises to the Native American community. Smdh. The fact that this woman hasn’t been bankrupted a dozen times over by various Wallet Inspectors genuinely astounds me. So Liz is probably going to run again, and her campaign will be even sadder the second time around.

It might surprise you to hear this if you don’t work at a college or NGO, but Liz diehards actually do exist. She’ll get even less support this time because there will be no viable leftist in the field for her to spoil, but she’ll still hang in long enough to make sure the very worst possible candidate beats out the second worst possible candidate. Maybe she’ll fabricate a rape accusation against Sherrod Brown. Maybe she’ll spend her entire allotted debate time doing a land acknowledgment. With Liz, anything is possible--so long as it ends in failure.

Amy Klobuchar

Amy was the most bloodthirsty of the 2020 also rans. She will double down on the unpopular failures of the Biden administration, explaining that if you weren’t such a selfish idiot you’d love the higher social security retirement age and oh my god are so such a moron you think you shouldn’t go bankrupt to get a COVID vaccine? There’s a non-unsubstantial segment of the Democratic base that’s self-hating enough to find this appealing, but it won’t be enough to make her viable.

Martha Coakley

She lost Ted Kennedy’s senate seat to a retarded man who was pretending to be even more retarded than he actually was. Then she lost a gubernatorial race to a guy who openly promised Massachusetts voters that he would punish them for electing him. Her record of failure is unparalleled, making her perhaps the ideal Democrat standard bearer for the twenty twenties.

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