#bro just. put in literally an ounce of effort here and give them the right KIND of attention which is easy to figure out if ur educated.

[the-path-to-redemption]

If RWY truly cared about Blake as a person and were friends with her, they'd talk about and help her stop faunus discrimination. Doesn't help that Blake herself doesn't seem to care that much about it anymore.

Long Post Ahead

Bro the amount of times everyone on that team has been racist towards Blake herself is already telling enough to let us know that they don't give a fuck about her identity, let alone her cause during the early volumes.

Weiss constantly refers to Blake's people as animals, trash, monsters, criminals and every thing in between. And then the moment she can actually do something about it (the entirety of Atlas), Weiss pulls out the white savior "I wish my family could take back the harms we did to the Faunus" and then fucks off to watch a movie while her slave owning father runs a political campaign for his own benefits.

This is only made worse when you realized that Weiss has never apologize to either Sun or Blake for being racist towards them.

Meanwhile, Yang and Ruby would use microaggression or straight up racist tactics on Blake. You have Ruby in Volume 1 trying to defend Blake not using her character, but her fucking ears and comparing them to a cat's. Yang infamously used a laser pointer on her now-girlfriend while she's stressed out, asking her in the manga anthropology if Faunus sniffs each other's butts, and all of them dressed up with animal ears and shit. ALL OF THIS IS CANONICALLY RACIST TOWARDS FAUNUS.

RWY don't give zero fucks and no damns about Blake, so yeah, calling them friends are a bunch of baloneys, let alone them even putting in an ounce of effort in helping her with any civil rights actions when all of them are still dependent on and PRAISING Dust products made by the SDC after knowing the shit Faunus goes through working for them. And bruh, if I go into Blake's lack of interest in HER PEOPLE'S WELL-BEING in her current characterization again, we will be here all day.

RT/CRWBY are incompetent and at worst, malicious about their portrayal of social issues just like this. I literally do not take anyone who argues otherwise seriously, because they are fucking blind to this absolute tumor of writing choices and author biases. Wake. Up. People.

[littlebabycrybtch]

tbh... we have absolutely FAILED ppl with ea/ting disor.ders so fucking unimaginably bad, especially the visibly underweight ones. and we are still failing them to this day by avoiding valuable education out of discomfort and demonization. its genuinely appalling sometimes, to see just how Dangerously ignorant ppl are about this shit. bros listen 2 me rn. you are not a doctor, and you are Not going cure an ed with your almost laughably ignorant and malicious ‘reverse psychology’ bit where you call someone an ugly skeleton knocking on deaths door whos body needs to be banned from instagram forever, because you’re just ‘so scared theyre gonna die’ or w/e so you can legit pretend they dont exist, holy fucking Shit dude. that shame-and-shun tactic is so unbelievably dangerous. like, if you knew Anything REAL abt these disorders or frankly any mental health issues and cared enough to apply that then you would understand how thats just... pure cruelty. im sorry to be blunt but yeah this isnt a joke, it needs to be said that you are easily going to KILL SOMEONE with that kind of unfiltered uneducated IGNORANCE. it is inexcusably selfish, harmful, and ableist behavior, we have to stop this already.

imo there’s a Lot to be said about the toxicity spiral thats become the pro recovery movement and how much it rejects and speaks over the people its Supposed to support, becoming more about ‘anti symptoms’ than pro anything, but if you are gonna understand Anything new today at least learn this;;; hating yourself at unhealthy is Never ever going to be the key to loving yourself at healthy. being ashamed of yourself FOR being unhealthy, will NOT make you healthier, it’ll make you worse every time. im not tryna be mean but honestly how the actual FUCK do yalls brains work, it is SO wildly damaging to let yourself perpetuate this type of mindset, and then still claim pro recovery or w/e like recovery doesnt have to start at unhealthy??? like itll just happen overnight??? like that’ll help??? like if ppl catch you displaying symptoms of the disorder you LITERALLY HAVE, you arent allowed to talk abt it in any form without intense open negativity towards it and yourself, so ppl know ur definitely totally against it tho and not enabling urself, bc if you dont talk abt ur shame and embarrassment for it that means you arent recovering and need a mob after you??? thats how you think people are gonna get better????

ffs dont try to viciously shame yourself out of bad habits and treat your disorders like taboo, respect and love yourself wholly, the good and the bad, if you want to form better habits!!! ppl NEED to be encouraged to love themselves at unhealthy if they ever want to improve. you are not going to accidentally make them worse by not constantly shaming all their ‘flaws’, they are not MADE of ‘flaws’. by showing support for the mentally ill, you are not fucking supporting their ‘symptoms’, you are a supporting THE FUCKING PERSON EXPERIENCING THEM. and you DESPERATELY NEED TO DO THAT!! there is MORE TO THEM than their symptoms! there are things to COMPLIMENT them on besides their body! its gotten to this point that like. ppl are actually Afraid of just being nice to ppl with eds. they dont even wanna treat them like Humans outside of their disorder, all they see is a disorder. everyone is just SO afraid of ‘enabling’ them by not being vocally against their symptoms that they avoid them like the plague and dont even try to build them up, which is what they fucking need more than anything dude!! 

ppl think refusing to ever let an underweight person feel pretty or love their body where they are at is what they need and will force them to recover, or they think giving them goals like ‘you’ll be so much happier with a bigger body’ and ‘keep going one day you wont look so sick’ is at all different than their own internal dialogue, when the Truth (that people need to fucking know by now!), is that shame with mental health is incredibly dangerous, eds are diverse but theyre most often rooted in starvation as a form of self harm from an unwavering self hatred and feeling of failure or lack of control, one they already have deeply ingrained and will usually feel at Any Size, which is why so many feel unsatisfied and keep going and going till they die. the answer to this problem isnt gonna be inflicting more fucking self hate or pressure. thats gasoline on a fire. you cannot just try and. UNO REVERSE CARD THE ~RULES~ OF THEIR FUCKING MENTAL DISORDER and expect RECOVERY... oh my god dude, please, id laugh out loud if this wasnt so malicious.

listen, if you wanna help, like actually Care about Helping the way you claim the root of your attitude is, you need to make that person feel like they can love themselves, not try to make them ‘realize’ how ‘bad’ they are and how uncomfortable and scared they make you and how Not Allowed their behavior is, bc 1. body dysmorphia is a delusion,,, denial is a common association with addictive/self destructive behaviors,,,, you are going about it wrong if thats the first thing you try to accomplish, and 2. whether you like it or not ‘bad’ is gonna be your first checkpoint! who would be motivated to get better when all you’re doing is giving them an already failing grade and pushing them back??? 

you’re all just... so paralyzed by ignorant fear every time you interact with someone with an ed bc you are so fucking detached from it as a concept, but you wont LEARN how to BEHAVE AROUND THESE PPL! LIKE! and then you claim you act this way ‘because you care'. ok then why do you feel like you dont have to listen or learn??? why dont you see these tactics as needlessly cruel when its explained??? bc oh you cant ‘’’’’trust’’’’ ppl with eds to tell You how to help Them, right??? they’re probably lying, you know better than them ofc. smhhh, every other mental illness community gets to speak for themselves to the ppl without their experiences and therefore the ability to hurt them, sure, but not the sneaky ed people, they created pr.0/a.na/, (the ONLY existing space for encouraging mentally ill ppl in self destructive behaviors, obviously), so they dont know what they need, they have to be Told by Normal people bc their irrational brains are Just Too Broken. (/s)............ like.............?? it is Sooo fuckin prejudiced and disgusting tbh. we gotta do better than this. 

eds are almost completely left out of communities for mental health these days. its seriously so disappointing. if you ACTUALLY ‘care’, then ok you need to swallow your pride and do better, you need to Listen and not let your personal discomforts (genuine triggers excluded!) with their appearance or behaviors get in the way of how humanized and committed your decent treatment of their disorder is. tbr, sometimes you arent just ‘concerned’ about a person, sometimes how you go about your feelings is rooted in your inner urge to validate your own discomforts with them, which means it might end up more about you than about them, which hurts them. i mean for the love of god, these ppl are not ‘irresponsible’ for existing around others with their ~unhealthy bodies~, they are not a walking trigger and cant be treated like one, they arent contagious, they will not benefit mentally from hearing you say you think they should be physically banned from posting selfies or w/e, that isolation WONT prevent eds from ~~~spreading~~~ and will severely harm the person in question, you are not making a heroic decision to try and bully them away to ‘save’ others from ever being around them or save them from being around an “enabling” (supportive recovery/not shameful) community. you are not ‘fixing’ them by making them hate their underweight bodies. you’re LITERALLY just ignorant and prejudiced and ableist, your ideas are actually Very harmful, you are not a savior, you are making it worse, plain and simple. Please just start doing better already, its kind of a life or death situation here

[spring-emerald]

gift and take

Happy TsukkiKage Day everyone! 

This is a collaboration piece with @yamineftis / @gabiarts! Please check out her amazing fanart!

Enjoy!

-----

Kei is having a crisis. And no, he’s not even exaggerating.

He often scoffed at the idea of couples surprising each other by giving gifts whenever they feel like it, to celebrate their monthsary or an anniversary over silly things such as when they first held hands or when they first walked home together. The only thing he could understand when it matters and would actually tolerate, is when it’s for Valentine’s Day, or a birthday, or during the Christmas season. But even then, he would wince and cringe at the lengths some people would go to and the amount they would spend for their significant other, and he always make it a point to remind himself to never become like them and not fall for such follies.

Of course, that would mean, at some point, he’s bound to swallow his words even if it feels like pins and needles on his throat and a deep blow on his pride. He just didn’t think it would be this soon.

Not only does he find himself not-single anymore, he is also without an ounce of idea about what to give his boyfriend for his birthday.

Kei scratches his head, nails digging in his scalp and he probably pulled some baby hair off, out of frustration, clicking his tongue while glaring at the small desk calendar, a particular date circled many times over in red ink.

He only has a week until Kageyama’s birthday and he’s yet to have a present for him.

To be fair, he’d already thought of options. Like volleyball gears and athletic wear, things he knows Kageyama will like and use. He’s a practical gift giver, after all. But then again, those are kinds of things that anybody could give him, if they’re willing to spend a little money on him (which, in his knowledge they are, as annoying as that is). But anyway, its Kageyama’s first birthday that they will spend together as a couple. And he really didn’t see himself saying something like this, but he wants it to be, well, special.

Like, really special.

They officially got together on the night of his birthday after all, so he’s already got the best gift he could have hoped for, even though it happened because of the traitor he calls his best friend’s meddling.

But yeah, it maybe his competitive streak or the small, gradually growing, sappy part of him that screams ‘Must take good care of Kageyama! Must not lose him!’ that’s talking, but he really, utterly, wants this to be special; needs it to be special.

And hence, the crisis. Because, how will he top that? (He doesn’t think he can. The happiness he felt that night was so unbearable, after all. He still finds himself blushing and smiling unconsciously whenever he remembers it.) He shakes his head to dispel the thought. It won’t do to pressure himself.

He closes his eyes, breathes deeply and relaxes his shoulders. When he opens them, his mind is clearer. Obviously, he can’t do this alone, he’ll just run himself in circles. Pulling his phone from his sweatpants, he scrolls through his contacts and messages Yachi about needing her help and if he can call her. He didn’t wait for too long for a response, as his phone rings as soon as the message was sent.

“Hello-”

“Tsukishima-kun? What happened? Are you alright?”

“Ya-”

“Oh my god, are you hurt? Bleeding anywhere? Should I call the police-”

“Yach-”

“You’re not bleeding in an alley, are you? Gods, please don’t die, Tsukishima-kun.”

“Yachi!” He exclaims, effectively stopping the nervous tirade coming from the other line. “No. I’m not hurt. Not in an alley. Not bleeding. Not dying.” At least, not in a literal way, he adds mentally. “So please stop worrying, okay. I’m. Fine.”

Yachi breathes in relief. “Oh, thank gods. I thought-”

“I know.” Kei interrupts her. Realizing he sounded snappy, he repeated it softly. It wouldn’t do well for him to snap at the only someone he can ask help from.

“I’m sorry. It’s just you usually communicate everything through text, so when you asked to call I thought… yeah, never mind. Anyway, you said you need help?”

Kei inhales deeply. “Yes, I do. I was wondering if you’re free today. I need help in finding a birthday gift for Kageyama.”

There’s a pause on the other line. “Uhm, no offense, Tsukishima-kun, but shouldn’t you be asking Shouyou-san? Not that I don’t want to help you. I would love to, but Shouyou-san knows him more, probably?”

“I already did. And not surprisingly, he’s of no help at all. Some best friend he is.”

“Erm, why not Tadashi-san?” Kei grumbles something under his breath as a reply.

“Pardon? What was that?”

Kei sighs. “I want it to be a surprise,” he repeats louder and a little exasperated. He explains that he doesn’t want to ask Yamaguchi for help, because he knows he won’t be able to keep it a secret. That and he doesn’t think he can handle Yamaguchi’s teasing, he tacks on mentally.

“Oh. Oh. I see. Oh, that’s so sweet.” She gushed, and Kei can almost see her smile. His face flushed and heated even more.

“Of course, Tsukishima-kun! I would love to help you!”

He ends the call after confirming the time and place for their meet-up and breathes in relief. Hopefully, he’ll find and get a perfect gift for Kageyama.

-----

After almost half a day of roaming the market district, they’re now resting in a café, drinking iced coffee, Kei’s treat for Yachi as gratitude for accompanying him. The nice, small paper bag with the logo of the seventh store they visited sits quietly and unobtrusively on the side of the table.

Kei settled for a sports watch, a bit pricey, but durable and high quality, which was highly recommended by the shop clerk and one that fits Kei’s standards of usable, not something anyone can give, and meaningful.

But even then, Kei can’t help but think that there’s still something missing.

“Is there something wrong, Tsukishima-kun?” Yachi asks, looking up at him with worry.

Kei bites his lips. “Nothing…” he starts hesitantly. “But I just feel like this isn’t enough.” He frowns, shoulders slumping.

“Why do you think that?”

“You know how my birthday went,” Kei says, and Yachi smiles at him knowingly.

He gestures to the bag with his head. “Buying something doesn’t feel… personal enough.” It was hard to get out, because he’s not used to admitting his feelings or baring his thoughts, but it seems a lot of that is changing when it concerns Kageyama.

Yachi purses her lips over the straw of her drink to stop herself from squealing, keeping it internally, because boy, who knew Tsukishima-kun would be so whipped for Kageyama-kun. She takes a sip, keeping herself together. Her friend needs her right now and she can’t let him down. She rest her chin on her hand as she hums, wracking her brain for ideas until one came to her.

“I think I have something.” She pulls out her phone and looked for it and shows it to him.

“It’s a pretty generic idea, and a lot of couples have done it before, but if you design your own and include the things that only the two of you can do, then that makes it more personal, don’t you think?”

Kei looks through the images and thinks about Yachi’s words. But the girl seemed to have taken his silence the wrong way. “But I mean, you don’t have to, if you don’t want to. It’s just a suggestion. I can look up for more if you want-”

“Yachi,” he interrupts, “this is perfect.”

Yachi smiles. “Okay. Alright. Do you need help? I can draw if you like.”

Kei shakes his head. “I’ll do this one myself. Thank you, Yachi.”

“You’re most certainly welcome, Tsukishima-kun.” Yachi doesn’t bother suppressing her gushing this time. “Oh, Kageyama-kun is so lucky!”

-----

Akiteru finds Kei pacing inside his room.

Kei’s been feeling nervous since he woke up on the auspicious day. He can’t seem to stay still, he keeps on taking the gift bag from the shelf, and putting it back again, rearranging his T-rex figurine around it, making it look as if it’s protecting the present, only to take it down again to place on his desk beside a smaller, rectangular box where the fruit of his effort for at least three nights is safely tucked inside.

“Yo, bro,” he knocks on the open door. “You’re going to burn a hole in your carpet if you keep on doing that.”

“Not now, nii-chan,” Kei distractedly replies back, still pacing.

“What’s got you so worked up anyway? It’s just his birthday and you’re just going to give him his gift and spend the day with him, being all lovey-dovey.”

“Nii-chan,” he clicks his tongue.

“With the way you’re acting really nervous, I would think that you’re already planning to propose to him. Or plan to do something more.”

Kei stops then and sputters at Akiteru, red in the face. “Wh-what? Of course not!”

Akiteru grins widely at the adorable display of vehemence. “Really? The ones inside the box are not actually con-”

Kei’s hand is quick to cover his mouth and push him out his room.

“The hell, nii-chan? What kind of brother asks that?!”

Akiteru snickers before getting Kei’s hand off his face. “A loving and supportive one.”

When Kei scratches his head with more force than necessary, Akiteru let up. “Alright, I’ll stop. You must really like Kageyama, huh?”

Kei doesn’t reply, but the way he flushed up to the tips of his ears and the way he can’t meet Akiteru’s eyes is enough answer for him. Even then, Kei surprised him by nodding. Aww man, his adorable little brother in love is such a sight he never thought he would see, but he’s damn glad he did.

“It would be fine, Kei. I mean, I’ve only seen you two together once, when you brought him here for dinner, and I can tell that he also likes you and your prickly butt.”

Kei huffs and glares at him and Akiteru puts his hands up in surrender. “Okay, okay… I will leave you now.” He starts to walk back to his room, but then stops and turns as if remembering something.

“Oh, and Kei,” Kei looks at him warily, but waits all the same.

Akiteru grins. “Don’t forget to use protection,” he says with a wink and dashes to his room, dodging the pen that Kei chucked at him.

Inside his room, Akiteru hears the muffled sound of door slamming and he snickers as he takes out his phone to send a message.

All according to keikaku, my disciple.

Hah! You’re the best, Akiteru-san!

It’s going to be my turn later. ;)

-----

As much as Kei wants to have Kageyama all to himself for the day, he can’t. Their friends insisted that they all celebrate Kageyama’s birthday together. It’s become their tradition to eat together whenever someone’s celebrating their birthday, after all. Which meant that he had to endure Yamaguchi’s teasing and Hinata’s boisterousness throughout lunch. Yachi had been there to stop Kei from committing murder, while Kageyama is just enjoying the food and the cake they bought for him, looking every inch the King that he is, being entertained by his jesters.

Thankfully, it’s over now. It’s just the two of them after Yamaguchi not-so-subtlety told everyone that the ‘lovebirds probably want to have some time alone, wink wink’ and had the gall to remind him to ‘get it, Tsukki! But be sure to save some for Christmas, alright’.

Fortunately, the King is oblivious to the obvious innuendo, but not Hinata who was still cackling as he left and Yachi who almost ran into a post because she’s covering her face in embarrassment.

The thought of the suggestion turns his face in the same predicament and this one, Kageyama noticed.

“Are you alright? Your face is red.” Kageyama says, tugging at the hand he’s holding, the other carrying a large paper bag containing all of the gifts he got from them, including the one Kei bought.

The other, more personal one is still inside his coat pocket, waiting to be given when they’re in the privacy of Kageyama’s home.

“It’s the cold, King.” He replies dismissingly. He would’ve gestured too, but he’s carrying the cake box with his unoccupied hand.

“If you say so.”

They arrive without much incident, and even though it was a ruse earlier, Kei is glad to be out of the cold. And once they stripped off their coats and scarves, they find themselves warming up in the well heated living room, watching a movie they happened to pass by while browsing the channels.

Kageyama’s snuggled up to him, head resting on his shoulder while his arms are around Kei’s, a perfect picture of contentment. Now would be the perfect time for Kei to give his other gift, but he left it in his coat pocket, and he had to get up to get it, but right now, he doesn’t want to leave Kageyama yet.

“Do you want some snack? You still have some cake left,” he murmurs on Kageyama’s ear, delighted at the way the action made the boy shiver against him.

Kageyama hums. “Yeah. I’ll get it,” he says, disentangling himself from Kei.

Well, so much for not wanting to leave him, Kei thought, shaking his head with a small smile. But he might as well use it as opportunity to go retrieve his gift.

When he returns, Kageyama’s back on the couch, the leftover cake is on the coffee table and Kageyama’s putting a slice on one of the two plates beside the box.

Kei’s heart warmed at the domesticity of it all. He never would have imagined he would be like this, with Kageyama of all people, but he can’t find it in himself to regret or even wonder how this happened. What he’s always left with, though, is fondness and gratitude that things worked out between them, because he can’t imagine them be anything else but close and happy and together, anymore. It’s too early to say, and he’s probably jinxing it, but he’s never been surer of anything else.

That’s why he wants to make this special. It’s their first, and he’s looking forward to more firsts with Kageyama, and if he has any say it in, he wants it to last. He wants them to last.

He takes a deep breath and walks back to the couch but instead of sitting beside his boyfriend, he bends down and hugs him from behind. Kageyama flinches a little in surprise but soon relaxes when he realizes that it’s Kei and puts a hand over the arm around him, looking at the small, rectangular box Kei is presenting in front of him.

“What’s this?” He asks, craning his head to look at Kei.

“It’s your gift.”

“…But you already gave me one.”

“I know.” Kei shrugs. “It’s another one.” He pushes it closer to Kageyama who takes it from him.

“Can I open it?”

Kei nods, letting go of Kageyama to take his place beside him on the couch, just in time as Kageyama opens it and takes out the pieces of paper inside –hand-drawn birthday coupons.

Kei doesn’t actually know how many he’s made, but he knows he made a lot.

“Did you draw all these?” Kageyama asks, shuffling through the coupons and reading what they are for and enjoying the different, simple illustrations on each of them.

Play beach volleyball. Hands and feet massage. And apparently many more that range from normal dates to silly things.

“Yeah, I did.” Kei’s not much of an artist, but he did his best and he thinks it’s passable. He has to keep talking to himself that it’s the effort that counts just so he wouldn’t throw them at the trash can.

“Do you like it?”

Kageyama beams up at him, an unusual but wondrous sight. He nods his head vigorously before he throws his arms around Kei’s neck and pulls him into a tight hug.

“I love it. Thank you!”

He lets go of Kei much too soon for his liking. “I have something for you too.” Before Kei can even ask, Kageyama’s already getting something from under the coffee table and he presents Kei a small box with a neat bow on top.

“Here! My pre-Christmas gift to you,” Kageyama says with a wide smile and a light blush, putting the present on Kei’s lap.

“…What?”

“My pre-Christmas gift. Yamaguchi said it’s a thing between couples? And since we’re spending the day anyway, he said it would be the perfect time to give it to you. This is what the second gift for is, right?”

If Kageyama wasn’t looking so hopeful and happy, Kei would have cursed Yamaguchi out loud for his meddling, again. And how the hell did he even find out that he’s planning to give Kageyama two gifts, (which, for the record, are both for Kageyama’s birthday, by the way)? He made sure he swore Yachi to secrecy and he knows she won’t break it.

The image of his laughing brother come to mind.

Traitors. They both traitors, Kei thinks menacingly.

“Tsukishima?” Kei is pulled away from his thoughts instantly.

“Ah… yeah. Erm, thank you. But you shouldn’t have.”

“But you gave me one.”

“King, both my presents are for your birthday.”

“But Yamaguchi said…”

“Look, forget about him.” Kei says, making Kageyama pout. “Uh, none of that. It’s still your birthday and I’ve still yet to discuss the terms and conditions of your coupons. So let’s talk about that alright.”

---

“So, I can use them anytime I like?”

“That’s what I said, King. And it has no expiration date so you don’t have to use them all up in a year.”

Kageyama goes quiet, looking like he’s thinking about it.

“Alright. But I think I’ll use one today.”

“Already?”

Kageyama nods with a hum and shuffles through the coupons until he finds the one he wants to use. He looks up at Kei with a shy smile as he hands it over to him. Kei doesn’t even have to read what it says, already knows what it is based on the drawing alone.

“Are you sure?”

Kageyama nods silently, blush dusting his cheeks. Kei gets unsure for a moment as his face heats up before he cups Kageyama’s cheek with one hand and they stare into each other’s eyes before he leans in to give his King a sweet, chaste kiss on the lips.

Their first one.

It lasts for a few sweet moments then Kei pulls away, just a little, resting his forehead against Kageyama’s.

“That’s first coupon used, Your Majesty.”

“Does that mean that I would need a coupon every time I want to kiss you, then?”

Kei huffs a soft laugh. “Nope,” he says, leaning in for another of many kisses to come.  

[dragonbagel]

Retrograde - Part 5

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

Rhys’ plan had worked. At least, he hoped it had. If it didn’t, then he’d managed to get himself into even deeper shit than he’d started in.

He’d come up with the idea after his arm had been so unceremoniously ripped off. He knew he’d blacked out for a bit from the pain, but he returned to consciousness way sooner than he would’ve liked to at the feeling of someone’s fingernails biting into the bloodied flesh of his right shoulder.

“Did I say you could pass out on me?”

“No,” Rhys said coolly, looking lazily into Vasquez’s eyes. “Although I have to say, for someone with such ‘advanced’ knowledge about cybernetics, you sure as hell don’t know how to take them off properly.”

Rhys could see Vasquez’s scowl deepen at the air quotes his remaining hand made around the word “advanced,” and he wasn’t exactly surprised when Vasquez’s fist slammed into his gut.

That didn’t stop it from hurting like a bitch.

Vasquez laughed at Rhys’ hiss of pain, pacing before him as the Loader Bot continued to hold Rhys in place.

“If you have an ounce of a brain in you, you’ll know that if you cooperate, you won’t get hurt,” Vasquez said in a matter-of-fact tone, almost as if he was giving a work presentation.

Rhys couldn’t help but snort; who did this lunatic think he was? His expertise may have been in programming rather than business, but even he knew that Vasquez wouldn’t be likely to hold up his end of the deal once he got what he wanted. Besides, if the bruises on his body were any indication, Vasquez was just as addicted to violence as Jack was.

Jack. Shit, Jack probably still didn’t know he was gone. It wasn’t like he expected him to care; the fight they’d had last week was pretty nasty, to say the least. He still vividly remembered the sneer on Jack’s face when he’d come home to the penthouse, the accusations that had been hurled at him, the tone of voice with which he’d been yelled at that he’d only previously heard Jack use on employees he was about to murder. He couldn’t even forget the look of hurt in Jack’s eyes as he’d gathered his things and slammed the door to their– to Jack’s– penthouse in Jack’s face before stalking out into the night.

He’d crashed at Vaughn’s for a few nights, refusing to talk about the fight despite his bro’s pestering. He found himself raiding Vaughn’s liquor cabinets, drinking them dry in a way he hadn’t done since before he’d met Jack.

That thought alone spurred him to down another bottle.

Since he didn’t want to be such a complete burden on Vaughn (and Vaughn’s wallet), he’d left to visit August’s bar to get even more smashed on his own paycheck. That was the last thing he remembered, although he had a nagging feeling that he’d done something he should be regretting.

Rhys was jolted out of his thoughts by the sound of an ECHOcomm ringing. He froze in place, glancing around wildly before quickly closing his eyes. But it was too late: Vasquez had already seen the unnaturally bright glow of Rhys’ ECHOeye. For all the shit that Rhys gave him, Vasquez wasn’t completely stupid. He knew that Rhys could communicate with the eye. He also knew that Rhys could be tracked by it.

“Tsk tsk, Rhysie,” Vasquez said, taking Rhys’ face between his thumb and forefinger as the other man shuddered. “Friends don’t keep secrets from each other.”

“You’re not my frie–” Rhys started to retort before Vasquez’s beefy fingers were prying his eyelid open, staring at the robotic iris with predatory fascination.

“Oh, but anyone who helps me take down the one and only Handsome Jack is a friend of mine,” Vasquez cooed, reaching into his breast pocket with his other hand and removing a piece of metal that looked nauseatingly like a scalpel. “Now tell me Rhys: who just called you?”

Rhys bit his lip. He’d seen Jack’s name flash across his eyelid as he’d closed it, but he couldn’t tell Vasquez that. “It was just a random number,” Rhys lied quickly, still trying to close his eye despite Vasquez keeping it open. “Probably a telemarketer.”

“That’s cute,” Vasquez said with a glare. “That’s real cute. Redial that number for me.”

Rhys shook his head in protest but stopped when he felt the blade touch the surface of his now-watering eye.

“I said,” he growled, pressing down hard enough for Rhys’ vision to begin to cloud with blood and pain. “Redial that fucking number.”

Rhys didn’t think, couldn’t think, blindly doing as he was told in a last-ditch effort to make the pain stop. He sighed as the pressure subsided, relief flooding his chest as the ringing continued until– until Jack picked up the phone.

“Hello?” came Jack’s voice, sounding unsure and suspicious. Shit, Rhys didn’t think he’d actually answer; he’d assumed the first call had been nothing more than a buttdial. There’s no way Jack actually wanted to talk to him after the shit he’d said.

“Is this Handsome Jack?” Vasquez asked in a sickly sweet voice, his hand clamping over Rhys’ mouth to prevent him from speaking.

“Who’s asking?” Jack responded sharply, knowing that it wasn’t Rhys on the other end.

“Unimportant,” Vasquez said, at which Rhys wanted to scream at Jack that he was here, that he needed help, that he was sorry for whatever he’d done to mess things up so badly.

“Listen, I don’t know how you got this phone, but I need to talk to its owner,” Jack snapped, and Rhys felt a glimmer of hope. Maybe Jack would come for him after all.

“Sure thing,” Vasquez said, releasing his hand from Rhys’ lips.

“J-Jack,” Rhys stammered, his voice weaker than he’d intended.

“Rhysie? What’s going on?” Jack asked, concern evident in his voice. “Where are y–”

Rhys’ vision went black for a moment as the blade suddenly sunk into his eye, slicing around the robotic lens and drawing blood from the soft tissue beneath it. He heard himself scream, but it sounded too far away to even be real.

“Don’t you touch him!” Jack’s voice snapped him back to reality, the protective tone slightly soothing Rhys despite the throbbing in his eye.

“If you do as I say, I won’t have to,” Vasquez chuckled before proceeding to rip the ECHOeye out with the flat side of the scalpel.

The call disconnected as the wiring between the lens, his brain and his port was snapped with a sickening tug. He felt the need to vomit, but before he was able to, the burning pain of the wiring being dragged out of his pupil turned his world into blissful darkness.

When he returned to consciousness, he was alone. He was beaten, bloodied and bruised, yes, but he was alone, which meant that he could come up with a plan without any new pain jumbling his thoughts.

He knew that Vasquez would probably finish him off once Jack wired over any top-secret information (if he even agreed to do so in the first place), and without his ECHOeye, he couldn’t exactly tell anyone his location or signal for outside help. Somehow, he’d have to convince Vasquez that Jack needed to come see him in person; it was the only way he’d make it out of this alive, and dammit he wasn’t about to die in a nasty room wearing obnoxious yellow boxers.

So he decided to do the one thing he knew best (and no, that thing wasn’t making terrible jokes that only he laughed at). He was going to con his way out of this, Pandoran style. Good thing one of the best con artists he knew happened to be on Helios with him.

“A vault key, eh?”

Rhys nodded, his eyes– now eye– blown wide in feigned fear. He knew Vasquez’s type: greedy, overconfident and power-hungry. He also knew exactly how to play him.

“He t-told me it was a s-secret,” Rhys stuttered, forcing his lip to tremble. “H-he f-found it o-on Eden-5.”

Vasquez nodded, feeding off of Rhys’ apparent nervous energy.

“I-I wasn’t going to t-tell you, b-but I’m j-just,” Rhys gulped, smiling inwardly at the way Vasquez was eating this shit up. “I-I’m s-so scared.”

“I always knew you were a weakling,” Vasquez said, looming over Rhys and looking way too pleased with himself. “Don’t worry, once I get my hands on that key, this will all be over.”

Rhys had to bite his tongue from shooting back a snarky remark.

“Now, why don’t you just relax while I go set up for the show.”

Before Rhys could even ask what the hell that was supposed to mean, Vasquez was removing a miniature video recorder from his pocket and attaching it to the metal “shoulder” of the Loader Bot holding Rhys, who was getting sore from being held this uncomfortable position for so long.

“You see, I’ve set up a little game for Jack,” Vasquez said; the guy really did like this sound of his own voice. “Left him a little bread crumb trail, if you will.”

Rhys cocked his head in confusion, letting out a grunt of pain as it put stress on his bloodied neural port.

“Here’s how the game is going to go.”

Vasquez turned around for a moment, and just as Rhys was about to question him, he felt a sharp pain split across his chest. When he glanced down, he could see red streaks snaking over his tattoos, a sparking whip in Vasquez’s fist.

“First, I placed your eye and hand out for Jackie to find.” Crack. “And once he tracks them down– which I know he will– what do you think he’ll see?” Another crack.

Rhys clenched his teeth, determined not to give Vasquez any satisfaction despite the agonizing electric burns lacerating his body. The guy was literally giving him all of the information he needed, and he couldn’t let his screaming drown out this free gift.

“His poor little Rhysie needing to be rescued, courtesy of this camera.”

Ah, Rhys thought to himself as he stilled against another crack of the whip. Now it makes sense.

“But don’t worry,” Vasquez said, his lips curling into a nauseating smile. “I wouldn’t let you miss out on the fun. I tricked out this nifty little camera to work two ways.”

Rhys raised his eyebrows in surprise at the holographic image of a darkened corridor materialized over his head. Could it really be that easy? All he had to do was lure Jack over and tell him to get Sasha’s help, and then he’d be home free.

“Alright kid, time to get back to work.”

Rhys barely had time to prepare himself for the pain before Vasquez struck him again, and he sucked in his breath as tears welled in his functional eye. The tendrils of electricity felt like fire raging across his skin, which was already sensitive to begin with.

“S-stop!” Rhys cried out, tears streaming down his cheek now.

He thought he heard a voice calling his name. A voice that sounded very much like Jack’s.

“He’s not going to come,” Rhys said with renewed effort, slipping easily into the “scorned boyfriend” character if only to throw Vasquez off his plan. “You’re wasting your time.”

“How cute of you to think that. You underestimate his possessiveness over his playthings,” said Vasquez, and Rhys had to resist the urge to to roll his eyes at his obliviousness to the fact that Jack was clearly running towards what used to be his cybernetic arm.

Maybe he did roll his eyes a bit, because the next thing he knew, the whip was cracking down on him with a new intensity, drawing a scream out of him. He clenched his teeth together as he tried to ride out the pain, which was threatening to consume him.

“Rhys!”

Vasquez must’ve finally realized Jack was watching because, with a sadistic grin, he reared back and slammed the whip against Rhys’ bloodied stump of a shoulder. He practically howled, the sensitive broken nerves and the electrically conductive fragments of cybernetics sizzling.

“J-Jack,” he said weakly, hoping that if he could just see Jack’s face it would help him survive the waves of agony still coursing through his body.

It turned out to be a bad idea, because as soon as he saw the mixture of concern and raw anger in Jack’s eyes, the entire situation began to feel all too real.

“Can you hear me babe?”

Rhys quickly nodded, preparing to tell him to talk to Sasha before Vasquez struck him again. He didn’t want to cry out, didn’t want Jack to see him hurt like this, but he couldn’t help it– the continuous pain was too much.

“I’m coming to get you princess, don’t worry.” Rhys shakily smiled at that before his features molded back into a grimace. “I just need to know where you are. Can you tell me where you are, pumpkin?”

He opened his mouth to tell him to talk to Sasha, to make the fake key, to trick Vasquez and for the love of god to get him out of here.

Vasquez’s sweaty hand over his mouth stopped that plan right in its track. “See, Rhysie? I told you he’d come for you.”

Through his half-lidded eye, Rhys could see Jack’s entire body tense with rage at the stolen nickname. “Listen here, jackass, you’re going to tell me where you are right now and maybe, just maybe, I won’t rip all of your limbs off before I toss you out an airlock.”

Rhys saw Vasquez shift the camera in his peripheral vision before the man spoke again. “Oh, I’ll tell you where I am, Jack. I just need you to do me a little favor first. And if you don’t, well,” Rhys felt the sharp grip of the Loader Bot on his left wrist tighten until there was an unholy cracking noise and pain, oh god there was pain. “I guess I’ll just have to spend some more quality time with your boy toy.”

In his dazed state of consciousness, Rhys could faintly make out Vasquez ordering Jack to hand over the vault key in exchange for Rhys’ life. He’d meant to wink at Jack at some point to hint that he should play along, but he ended up just passing out for a moment until Vasquez’s hand slammed into his face.

He spluttered, the coagulated blood in his nose beginning to flow again. He could see Jack’s worried expression, and he ached to comfort him. He knew he must look like shit, but it didn’t matter, not when Jack looked so distraught. “It’ll be okay,” he tried to whisper, although it turned into an unintelligible sigh.

“Don’t worry, Rhysie,” Jack said lowly, the image’s shaky quality telling Rhys that he was probably running. “I’m coming for you, I’ve got you.”

Rhys gave him a small smile to show that he heard him, and Jack’s features softened. Unfortunately, Vasquez heard him too.

“Aw, now isn’t that adorable.”

Rhys glared at his honestly disgusting voice, shivering in a hybrid state of fear and anger. He glanced over to see Jack’s expression, but was met with the sight of…Wilhelm? The man put his finger to his lips before shooting Rhys a grin. Jack must’ve made it home and had Wilhelm working on the arm. Good.

“What?” Rhys said, determined to keep Vasquez’s attention off of Wilhelm. “Never seen a real relationship before?”

Vasquez growled, and Rhys continued speaking, giving Wilhelm the time he needed to disable the other side of the camera so that he could work without fear of being seen by Vasquez.

“Oh wait, of course you haven’t,” Rhys said with a snort. “I mean, look at you.”

The other man leaned in closer, leering at Rhys as his fingers slowly wrapped themselves around his throat.

“Listen here, you slut,” he said lowly, his fingers tightening at the last word.

Rhys spluttered, panic rising not at the threat of asphyxiation but at Jack’s angry features suddenly filling the screen. No. Not yet.

“Just because I’m not forever alone doesn’t make me a slut,” Rhys joked lightly, although he immediately regretted it due to his current lack of air. He just needed to stall for a few more minutes.

“That’s cute, Rhysie,” he said, the last word overflowing with venom. “You think that just because he lets you suck his dick he cares about you.”

Rhys recoiled slightly at the words but didn’t rise to the bait, quelling the insecurities stirring inside him. He kept his features neutral, continuing to stare at Vasquez despite the fuzzy quality that the edges of his vision was taking on.

“Come on, Hugo,” Rhys said softly, smirking. “It’s not my fault I’m the only one here getting laid.”

Vasquez’s features hardened, and Rhys’ composed facade faltered momentarily. His hands released their viselike grip around Rhys’ now-bruising neck, and he barely had time to gasp in air before a fist was slamming against his cheek.

“You little shit!” Vasquez said, rearing back to hit him again. “You are nothing. Nothing, do you hear me?”

Rhys whimpered, both at the pain and the sight of Jack’s projected figure looking like he was about to tell Vasquez off right then and there.

He spat, a bit of blood staining Vasquez’s shirt, drawing his captor’s attention away from the one thing that would blow this entire operation. “I feel like some people would disagree.”

Vasquez leaned back and laughed, a full-bodied wheeze to the extent where you’d think Rhys had just told the funniest joke in the entire damn world. Rhys was grateful for the sound, however, since both Nisha and Tim were working to actively restrain Jack and drag him from the room.

“That’s just rich, kid. Fucking hilarious. How far do I need to dumb it down for your teeny tiny Pandoran brain to comprehend?”

Rhys caught Wilhelm’s eye in the camera, silently alerting him that the hacking was done. Although every fiber of his being screamed at him not to, not to let this one beacon of hope disappear, he knew what had to be done. He nodded slightly, and the feed went blank and staticky, although Vasquez didn’t seem to notice.

“You. Are. A. Body,” Vasquez shouted, each word accentuated by a blow to his face, his chest, his remaining arm. “The only reason you’re on this fucking station is because corporates like something feisty to spice their nights up.”

Rhys sobbed again, his deep-seeded insecurities deciding it was the perfect fucking moment to rear their ugly heads. That and the fact that he was pretty sure every inch of his body had been beaten beyond recognition.

“And Jack? You think you’ve got him hooked, don’t you?” Rhys remained silent, trembling and praying that Jack wasn’t seeing this, that they’d managed to keep him out of the room so that he wouldn’t see Rhys completely fall apart.

“Let’s see how long he lets you stick around after I’m done breaking your pretty little figure. Which, if he doesn’t get me this damn vault key pronto, will be much sooner than later.”

Another punch jostling Rhys’ already messed up neural port, and he fell back into unconsciousness.

Rhys awoke to the discomforting sound of silence. Vasquez must’ve left the room for some reason or another, leaving Rhys to be tortured by his own thoughts, which were just about as unbearable. He cracked his eye open further, scanning the room for any sign of his captor, feeling the prickly sensation of someone watching him. When his sight landed on the small camera, he remembered that someone actually was.

He cleared his throat, which protested in dry pain, but Rhys forced himself to speak, knowing this was his chance. “T-the key.”

He didn’t know if anyone would hear him, but he had an inexplicable feeling that Jack was watching, that it was really him on the other side.

“F-floor f-f-fifty. Y-you know w-where,” he choked out, speaking turning out to be way harder than he’d thought it would be. He must’ve really fucked up his vocal cords with all that screaming. Besides, he couldn’t exactly go into great detail; who knew where Vasquez was lurking.

“F-find her,” he said quickly, hearing footsteps approaching. He hoped that Jack would understand his message, that he’d talk to Sasha and not end up killing her. He hoped that when this was all over, Jack wouldn’t cast him aside. He tried to convey all of this in his last two words, a stammer before the fight evaporated in him and he slipped from awareness.

“L-love y-y-ou.”

He wished he could be sure that Jack loved him too.