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pizzarollsareokayiguess · 4 years ago

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Far too much (Kuvira x Fem!Reader)

This is part 2 to Close enough? And I’m so thankful for all the people that interacted with my first written work!! So here’s this, I had so much fun writing it! If you guys wanna see somethin more specific or have ideas, send ‘em my way! Love you!!

WC: 5200 (almost 2x my last one!) TW: none that i’m aware of, lemme know though <3

You felt as stupid as a raccoon-toad.

When the avatar came to collect you to travel back to Zaofu, you were excited because you were going back home, even if you were being punished for your crimes. Unfortunately, Suyin had extended the invitation to the other individuals who were also from Zaofu. It seemed that she was sentimental and decided that every one needed a second chance.

So you were stuck with a bunch of people that you were not entirely fond of, especially when they heard of what happened to Kuvira. After that, you could just feel the glares they sent your way, which was annoying because that’s all they did. They just stared and would raise their stupid eyebrows. Why couldn’t they just get over it and shove it? It didn’t help that your injury still required attendance by healers and physical therapy. So even if you wanted to avoid all attention, it was a little pointless when they said you could only apply yourself for a couple of hours before resting.

There was a constant dull throb in your side, no matter the number of healers. Sometimes it would chill out but when you were awake for too long or when you skipped a meal, it would come back and stiffen your back. It was a constant battle and there were some times that you just wished that Kuvira double tapped you. It could've saved a lot of emotional and physical turmoil.

So, back to the situation on hand. You and several others were on a train that would stop in the heart of the Metal Clan. After that, each person would be sent to a camp that was ran by a horse faced individual who lacked the sympathy of a real person. You were told to call him General Zheng, if you ever saw him, and after that he left to go talk to the head of the guard. You and the others were hustled into a medical looking outlet, and each person was given a platinum band around each left ankle.

“It’s to make sure you don’t leave and to make sure you obey. Can’t have you running around like hen-ducks, right?”

ugh.

It had been several days since you had arrived in Zaofu. By then, everyone had been stationed with their community service and you started to get used to the schedule given. General Zhen said since you had to serve the community as your punishment, you could choose your schedule, basically saying, “How long do you really wanna do this?”. You could remain under order until your sentence was done or you could rush it out and leave it early. As early as you could anyway with a 25 year sentence. You decided to go with the latter; even with your injury, you thought that you could cut it by a year or two which sounded pretty minimal but you’d take anything at this point. At 10am you would wake up and eat then head towards the outskirts of the ring. There, you would begin to bend the metal together to create cohesive pieces for other workers to make into the plates that would create the dome. Others were tasked with mining the actual ore, and they were even paid for that, but you had to create the joints for them. Sitting and concentrating for about 8 hours a day would cause you to slouch and then you’d get yelled at by the healers. Who were scarier than a guy on cactus juice. You’d visit the healers once a week and they would see if your scar had healed or if it was infected. After seeing them, you would head over to the park where they held physical therapy outside. It was really nice to see all of nature while an old lady calmly coaxes you into the tree pose. Gaining balance was the hardest because your brain was trying to compensate for the strain in your side. You also kinda wanted to punch the lady because that’s is as far as I go stop pushing me areyoutuchingmerightnowareyouserious.

Needless to say, it was nice to go back to the plain gray walls of your (holding cell) room and just breathe quietly by yourself.

Then you got used to your routine which was a mistake because then something had to go and mess it up. And who else would it be if not for the very person who put you here?

Madam Jilpa was going to be the death of you. That near death experience you had? Insignificant to the pain that this woman was gracing you with. You wanted to strangle her. She was super nice about your wound, saying how it was healing well and then she manhandled you into a position to “stretch your muscles, you’re awfully sore, my dear.” You rolled your shoulders and exhaled as you left the park. Ever since you came back, people avoided you like the plague and it made the anklet a little more tighter each time. Doesn’t help that it was platinum so it just seemed that it was mocking you every time you caught a glimpse of it. Stupid thing. Stupid city. Stupid community service. Stupid- who is that?

You were strolling through the main street of the city, heading to the store when you saw her. Kuvira. The devil herself. Was I thinking about her? Is that why she’s here? Oh god, she can’t see me, what do i do? Where am I gonna hide? You panicked and slid into the nearest shop, which happened to be a tea shop. Luckily there was a line so you didn’t look too odd. Unluckily, the shop had big glass windows. So as much as you could see her, she could possibly see you? Maybe? You dipped next to the door and peeked out, wondering why Kuvira would be away from the estate. Then you saw the entire Beifong family, whelp. That answers your question. No better way to survey someone than surround them with powerful earthbenders. As your eyes glazed over their faces, you saw Bataar Jr. and Kuvira at the back of the pack. You couldn’t tell if they were talking but they looked like they were standing next to each other, and the evil voice in your head wouldn’t stop talking about how they looked. Together.

Not wanting to add mental therapy to your list of visitation rights, you decided to exit the tea shop and go back the way you came. Back to your plain gray room. Because who needs closure when you have, uh, gray pillows and plain bagels?

…

After that train wreck, it didn’t stop.

Suyin (it felt wrong to call her Su) had talked to the General and they made a plan to talk to each of the prisoners. To really decide if they are evil or not. You could make that decision with the way that these people would play Pai Sho, some of them were just cruel and malicious and a better punishment would be to shove em in the boiling rock.

Unfortunately you were on that list of visits and it was 3 days from now. They even accepted letters from family members. So that you could read how disappointed they are, one more time. But! It was written so it had sentimental value. You felt nauseous when you saw your name scrawled on the letter. Better now than later, it would seem.

Y/n,

I remember the day you were born. You were a screaming ball of anger and you wouldn’t stop crying until you were placed on my chest. Then you shushed and swooned. I knew then and there that I would love you till the day I die and every day after. And it seems that even now, I feel the same way. But, I know now that some paths are a little crowded and you lost your way. I’m sorry I wasn’t there to help you find the light in this dim world, but I just wanted you to know that you are my light. And that is all that matters. When you first left, I was left with irreplaceable pain because in a way, you had left me. But you were just touching the ground and spreading your fingers. You thought you knew best and I’m proud of you for sticking with it. But now that you see the end of this journey, you must stick with the repercussions. That is what it means to find the light and settle with it. You face your decisions and lay with the judgements. I’m glad that you came back to Zaofu. Hopefully, one day, I’ll be able to see your beautiful face again.

Love always,

Mom and Dad

A chip had left your shoulder. Thank the spirits. You could feel the wetness on your cheeks from the compassion from your parents. Perhaps they were right.

Bracing yourself with these words of encouragement, you faced Suyin with strong shoulders and a flinch in your side (cause, honestly, the tea isn’t that good at keeping the pain down).

…

When you were growing up, your parents had tried everything to stop you from sneaking out of the house. They tried metal bars, they tried positive reinforcements, they tried every parental trick in the book. They couldn’t keep you from whatever entranced you from the house. The only person who ever humored you and whoever treated you with some semblance of respect was Kuvira, or ‘Vee, when you were kids. Granted, she also had a rocky relationship but what’s a pot and what’s a kettle? When your parents finally noticed where you were going when you left, they talked to Su about it. If they couldn’t keep you down, they’ll just make sure that nothing bad happens. Because of that, you would spend many hours on the Beifong estate, surrounding yourself with other earthbenders and playing games with the other kids. As you grew, you started to notice how Opal would talk about the cute boy in her class or how Wing and Wei would blush when the dance recitals were held. But, as you got older, all you could think about was how pretty ‘Vee’s eyes were. How green they were, and how much they sparkled when she talked about how she finally joined the guard. How the tank tops she wore outlined her shoulders. You never noticed that when other people were looking outside, that you had found your view right in front of you. Su noticed of course, being the romantic that she was, she got so excited whenever her children were talking about love. Su knew you well, and when Kuvira left Zaofu, she had a feeling that you would leave with her. She had tried so hard to understand you, but she was so angry. Angry at Bataar Jr, angry at Kuvira, angry about everything, that she forgot that you got the short end of the stick too.

So she was nervous too when she invited you over.

…

The door had opened by then even when you hoped that it would remain shut for a little while longer. A guard had escorted you from your quarters into the matriarch’s afternoon room and she was seated near a window that looked to the sprawling estate of the Metal Clan. She looked up at you and smiled softly, and even from the doorway, you could tell that she had gotten older. Maybe not physically, but her eyes were a little wiser and a little more battle worn.

You had settled into the opposite chair, with some grace that you managed to muster, and she had offered you tea. It smelled of lemon and blueberries and you couldn’t help but relax. You couldn’t help it, seeing Su as a mother figure made you wistful of all the memories you shared. With those came remorse and you immediately felt guilty.

“Thank you for allowing me to come back to Zaofu, Su-Suyin, I am eternally grateful that you have allowed me back after what I did,” you said. After your stutter, it seemed your words came in a rush, unable to be held back.

“I wanted to apologize for leaving in the first place. I didn’t realise that I was blind to all the hurt that occurred when this thing started and I should’ve noticed when the first person that was wounded was you. I thought that I knew what I was doing when I left because I thought Ku-” you inhaled sharply, “I thought she would be the answer. It was wrong of me to place such big standards on her without thinking of the consequences. I know now that I followed her out of personal feeling, and not logic. I will forever be humbled by the events that happened and I just hope that you may forgive me. I am incredibly regretful of turning my back on you Su, I wish my eyes had stayed open a little longer.”

You were a little choked up and you finally pulled your eyes away from your tea cup to look at Su, finding her eyes already on you. Tears were pooling in her eyes and she was softly smiling.

Laughing softly, she speaks.

“You don’t speak often but when you do, you speak,” she sighs and looks outside again.

“I must admit that the most heartbreaking thing was watching Kuvira walk out because i knew that if she left, you would too. It's been that way since you were children. Little younglings running across the estate, throwing rocks and giggling to yourselves. I knew when she left that you would go. You follow the ones you love, you want them in your lives so you do what you must. I understand the feeling well.”

She looks at you and stands from her seat, walking around the table and kneeling at your side.

Softly, she places her hands on yours and squeezes.

“When I saw you on the floor, my mind ran a thousand miles. But until your testimony before your trial, I never imagined. The Kuvira that you love exists, but the Kuvira you followed are not the same. I’m sorry that I didn’t get the chance to warn you. People change right before your very eyes and it’s hard to adapt. I love you as if you were my own, Y/n, and I forgive you. As a parent, I am disappointed but that’s to be expected.”

Smiling you lurched forward and squished her against yourself. It didn’t take you long to become a little touch-starved from being in prison but man, hugging Su felt like landing on cotton and honey. Squeezing your shoulders, Su pulls back.

“Y/n, I’m telling you now what I had to tell myself. The right people get second chances. Currently, Kuvira and Bataar Jr are working with Korra and her friends to stop the remaining forces of the United army. They are good people, and I believe that they can do good things. But it’s up to them. You must wait for them to come to you. This isn’t in your hands now. If they want to change, they must do it themselves. That is my advice to you: good people will come around, they just need time.”

She gave you one last hug and released you. Stepping back she smiled, her eyes finally matching.

“I don’t want to take up all of your day, so I’ll let you go for now.”

You said your goodbyes with Su and the guard escorted you off of the estate.

It didn’t hit you until then that you didn’t flinch everytime she said Kuvira. Taking what Su and your parents said, you lifted your shoulders and promised yourself that you would change your days. You would begin the days with a smile and you would end the days with satisfaction.

…

Days had passed by then and your mood had only gotten better. Physical therapy was going better, your side had stopped constantly throbbing and was starting to scar over. Blues and yellows surrounded the tissue but you were able to go up stairs without passing out! Checking the integrity of the metal plates was what filled your afternoons but those passed by too. Soon, the petals of the metal clan were slowly starting to form and the construction was almost complete.

One day, when you were coming back from your shift, you had heard that Kuvira had returned. Something about brainwashing and how Asami was kidnapped? It sounded crazy to you but when you thought about it, there was this one doctor who wanted to control a person's thinking. Luckily, ‘Vee thought it was too barbaric and the idea was shelved. Korra was able to put a stop to it and her friends were returned back to normal with both charges returning back to Zaofu. It seemed that that test had proved to the rest of the Beifong family that they had taken a step towards fixing their past and wanting to grasp their future. You were happy that they decided to redeem themselves. It made sleep a little easier knowing that your ‘Vira was still in there.

Your brain wasn’t helpful though. As successful physical therapy was, it never helped the nightmares. It didn’t help the murmurs of your brain and the self deprecating remarks. It was exhausting. (How come she gets a happy ending? Wasn’t I supposed to be a part of it? I thought she loved me? I thought-) Yeah, well, you thought a lot of things. Just eat your toast and inspect that metal. Spirits sake.

…

Flowers were delivered to you.

Lilacs. Their fragile petals and purple centers called to you and you froze looking at them. They were placed in your quarters along with mail from your parents. You weren’t allowed to send mail yet but you could still receive them. But flowers?

Listen, as an earthbender and a metalbender, you have grown to know the planet pretty well. From the flimsy sand to the swollen stone beneath you, you feel the breath of the earth in your bones.

But that doesn’t mean you know a single thing about flowers. You know that they are pretty and that roses can be yellow in certain parts of the continent but lilacs? Pretty, purple, dainty, flowers? Confusion couldn’t even begin to explain the words you were feeling. Don’t flowers have meanings too? You have never received flowers before, you had convinced everyone around you that you would rather punch a boulder than receive flowers. And yet here they are.

It seems as if they are staring at you. Glaring at you. Laughing at you. (Who calls themselves an earthbender but can’t tell the difference in flowers? How stupid of-)

Snapping yourself from your stupor you spin around and walk right into the door jam.

Son of a flying-

…

You corner Hahn later on that night. Word in the prison yard says that when he was a free man, he was a farmer who lived next to a guy who happened to be a gardner of flowers. Which flowers didn’t matter but the fact that you kind of knew someone that had knowledge of flowers seemed like a win.

You plopped yourself on the seat in front of him and stared into his aged eyes. He had dark spotted skin from his field days and the wrinkles around his eyes suggested that he knew many things. A trustworthy source. (Your only source)

“Do you know anything about flowers Hahn?”

“Why do you want to know?”

“I got two days worth of desert that has your name on it if you tell me a thing or two.” Interest peaked, he leaned forward.

“I have a reputation kid, I ain’t just gonn’ blab about flowers to anyone. I don’t wann’ seem like a flim, ya know?”

“I ain’t gonna talk, I’ll even slide another honey cake in there.”

He thinks for a moment or two before nodding. You slide him the desert from today and he places it into his pocket. Leaning forward, you can smell sunshine and grass from him.

“What do you know about this?”

You had gently picked a single bud from your bouquet to show him. You weren’t positive if they were lilacs but they were purple and how many flowers were actually purple?

Humming for a moment, he responds. “. . .Syringa, if I remember correctly. Sold like hot cakes. There’s about several different kinds. This one here is just the smaller kind. If you tryna woo a lass, you call ‘em Lilacs. They got a strong scent though, so careful on the nose.”

Nodding, you ask, “does it have meaning?”

He shrugs, handing the bud back to you. “ Well, it could mean a lot of things. In the younger years, you’d give it to your lass to remind ‘em of your love. Like, a new beginning of love, remindin’ them of a new stage.”

He then looks you in the eye and glares. “Not a word about this hog wash or I’m stealing your pillow.”

You laugh, “you have my lips sealed, H.”

…

You hadn’t received any more bouquets and your pillows remained intact. New love? Who in the world could that be? You kept your eyes peeled for lurkers when you were on breaks and besides the common glare, nobody else seemed to be paying attention. So where did they come from? You had formed a vase with clay in order to keep your flowers and you were a little tickled to find that they lit up the room. Hmph.

…

Kuvira was two seconds away from suffocating herself. When did it get so hard to be a good person?

The amount of guilt that lifted from her shoulders from the trial was impalpable and she felt almost as confident as 4 years ago. The Beifongs were friendly and she was able to join and attend multiple events and she was slowly learning how to be a mentally stable person. She had started seeing someone in the city and once every two weeks they would take her apart and put her back together. She was getting used to it. Slowly.

But, spirits, did she miss you.

Something would happen during the day and she would turn to see you, see how your eyebrows would raise and how you would stifle your laughter behind your hands. And then she’d turn and you wouldn’t be there. It was total whiplash, and she wasn’t used to it just yet. Dr. Moko had yet to ask about the elephant-rhino in the room and Kuvira was waiting for the day where she would ask, “why did you attempt two murders, both of which were individuals you cared about?”

What a loaded question. Kuvira wondered how she got stuck with house arrest and not prison.

On one hand, it's an easy question. She thought she was doing a good thing. Bataar Jr. happened to be in the same place as the avatar and most of the resistance when she fired the spirit weapon and at the time it seemed like a good idea. (Not a good defense, she’s glad this question wasn’t raised during her trial). On the other hand. . .

Her soul would wither when she thought about. . .the. . kiss.

She felt that she was ignited and smothered at the same time. When she felt you melt into her arms, it was intoxicating. Your smell had surrounded her and you felt good in her hands. How she wanted to stay there forever. She wished that she could have stayed there forever. But the voice in her head was blood thirsty and on a victory roll and couldn’t be stopped. It was no excuse but the pain that Kuvira felt when she saw you slowly bleed out in her arms was so much that she zoned out and went on autopilot.

In one of the sessions she has with Dr. Moko, she mentions the voice with high reluctance. Dr. Moko says that the instinctual desires in her subconscious had risen to the challenge and took over, blocking out rational and emotional thought. This discussion had encompassed several sessions and because of that, Kuvira was able to gain control and become a little more independent with her thoughts. It gave her a sense of control, knowing that the Beifong family could trust her again, knowing that Korra wasn’t wrong when she said that they were alike. She had hope and all the split ends of her misdeeds were tying themselves together. But y/n. . .

You plagued her mind like a wine-stained carpet. So naturally, she (subtly) asks Su what happened after Korra stopped the spirit vine weapon. Su fills her in on the hospital visits, the trial, the physical therapy, the letters, everything.

That week Kuvira stomps into Dr. Moko’s office and says, “I need to talk about y/n.”

And so she does.

She sends you flowers.

Flowers?! She doesn’t have a flower bone in her body, why in the world did she pick out flowers? She even had a mind to pick out a specific type, lilacs: new love. She wanted to ask the florist for a bouquet that would convey “I’m sorry that I stabbed you, I am becoming a mentally stable person and I really wanna kiss you again and you are really pretty.”

Kuvira figures that lilacs are good enough.

. . .

It had been about two weeks since you received the flowers. They had started to wilt and you couldn’t help but get sad. You still had not figured out who sent them but a tiny part of you hoped that maybe she sent them. That she still thought of you while she’s learning how to be herself. It was selfish of you to think so, but you couldn’t help it. Kuvira was a major part of your life and to be without her made your heart ache. But you made do. After all, you still had 24 years of community service. . . you sigh. That doesn’t make it better.

You’re walking towards the park to take part in your therapy session. Several other people had come and gone and it was nice to see people learning how to overcome their struggles. You were growing stronger every day. Madam said that soon, you would be able to fully do the physical side of bending again. You could spar soon! You were starting to get antsy with all the chill meditation that Madam Jilpa was having you do. The bruising was gone on your side and you could extend your arms fully without twinges or aches.

You step onto familiar green grass and take off your shoes. Feeling the earth beneath your feet helped ground you when trying new therapy techniques that had you worried that your legs would suddenly give out on you. After placing your shoes next to your bag you look up and see your teacher and several others. There were more people today than usual which was odd. You couldn’t remember if there was a sudden climb of injuries in the last week but alas, more people meant less one-on-one time from the old lady herself. You walk over to a spot of grass and plop down, stretching your legs out in front of you. Planning on doing basic stretches you exhale-

“Need a partner?”

-and immediately inhale. You open your eyes and swirl around looking at the individual. Kuvira stands there relaxed, if not a little stiff, and is looking at you with her hands behind her back. The naive voice in your head screams in victory and you nod your head, still silent. Kuvira sits next to you and out of panic, you look around seeing everyone else doing the buddy system. Some were wearing the same clothing patterns as Kuvira meaning that they came over as a group. Meaning this wasn’t accidental. Meaning this was planned. Meaning this was the worst day of your entire life. Perhaps you should just run away and become a no name in the wilds, because then you’d be able to cope with the situation instead of just stewing in silence.

Kuvira places her knees together and leans forward, stretching her head towards her legs as she exhales. Knowing that Madam Jilpa would swat you, you slowly do the same. After you scootch further away, of course.

It’s painfully awkward. As Madam Jilpa begins, others join in with soft whispers and mutters of conversation. But the bubble that surrounds you is so tense that it doesn’t help the panic spasms that start to creep up your spine.

After coming back up from a lateral position, your eyes roam and they meet Kuvira’s. She’s looking at you fully, and not even Madam’s loud “Next!” breaks her attention. She’s looking at you and she stops her exercise to face you completely. Her eyes lower and she looks at your right side where your shirt had bunched up showing the scar tissue. Shocked, you pull your shirt down and shuffle a little farther away.

She speaks so softly you probably wouldn’t have heard her had you not been so attuned with her whole being.

“I’m sorry.”

You inhale and nod, bracing your attention forward and copying Madam’s next movement.

You try incredibly hard to ignore her stare for the rest of the session but it’s so heavy and so thick. At some point, Madam introduces a new position and spirits does it pull a muscle that you didn’t realise you had. It starts with your back on the ground, which is easy enough, and then you lift your hips and turn to the side. Keeping your shoulders to the ground, your head turns the opposite way. You flinch when it strains the muscles in your side. Your legs begin to quiver when a hand settles over your knee and brings your legs away from the ground, making the stretch more shallow. Your eyes see Kuvira as she holds your legs.

“Don’t do it too deep, you’ll sprain something. Start here.”

Following that, she lowers your legs again but into a place that doesn’t make you flinch in pain.

You missed her touch, you realise. You missed how softly she would hold you. Your eyes start to water when you realise how fucked up this is. She is right there in front of you, and all you can think about is how betrayed you felt. You never got the closure you needed from her and it’s being revealed as she helps you stretch. You’re silently crying while she places your legs down and helps you into a seated position.

“I should have visited you some time ago. I wanted to apologize to you, for wounding you and for leaving you alone when all you did was trust me. I misplaced your trust and I will forever be in your debt for doing so. I am incredibly sorry y/n,” she says as she looks into your eyes.

You sniffle as she grabs your hands. Squeezing them, you respond.

“Thank you, ‘Vee.”

And when you smile, the future seems a whole lot brighter.

#Kuvira #Kuvira x reader #Kuvira imagines #LOK imagines #legend of korra #LOK #I am a lesbian herald #my writing #new!

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along-came-atsushi · 4 years ago

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Fyodor’s Ability

This is probably the umpteenth theory written about Fyodor’s ability in this fandom. But I wanted to express my own thoughts I had in mind since reading/watching the story.

I’m curious which things in this theory will turn out to be wrong or right, when his ability gets revealed in the future.

[Beware: Some spoilers starting from chapter 77]

What we know so far:

1.) People are not able to protect themselves from Fyodor’s ability via clothing:

-> His ability relies on the fact that he has to touch his victims, but it doesn’t matter if it’s the bare skin or clothing.

2.) He’s able to change or remove certain emotions from people’s brains:

3.) Therefore, his ability seemingly has something to do with his victim’s brain, as they all die due to their heads exploding and the fact that he’s even able to alter/remove people’s emotions.

Things that are pretty unclear until now is whether Fyodor is able to control his ability or not, and which factor serves as trigger.

Possibilities:

1.) Fyodor is fully able to control his ability -> just like Akutagawa can control Rashomon.

2.) Fyodor is not able to control his ability and his ability reacts to any person he touches -> just like Dazai and his ability.

3.) Fyodor is not able to control his ability and his ability reacts on its own, but only in a certain situation -> The same problem Atsushi faced with his ability before joining the ADA. Another example is Yosano not having control over her ability when she gets heavily injured, or Odasaku’s ability activating whenever he’s in danger.

4.) Fyodor is able to control his ability, but his ability is still dependent on a certain situation in order to activate -> kinda like Kunikida can use Doppo Poet whenever he wants, but he needs his notebook for that. Chuuya can decide whenever he uses Corruption, but has no control over himself after that.

The confrontation with Ace:

- If we consider Possibility 1 (Fyodor being fully able to control his ability) then some things during the scene with Ace don’t make sense:

It’s weird that Fyodor needed to trick Ace into committing suicide. If he has full control over his ability, then he could’ve just simply touched Ace and the problem would’ve been finished. They were even completely alone in the room for a while and just sitting inches away from each other. Yet, Fyodor did not, for some reason, decide to touch Ace and kill him that way.

The reason for this could be simply because Fyodor loves to torture people by manipulating them and he did just that with Ace. But the whole set-up of playing that card game with him, telling Ace’s subordinate Karma something false about his ability, just for Ace to think that his ability has a different power, and then waiting for Ace to go nuts and commit suicide… a little bit too much work compared to a simple and quick touch.

Therefore, I doubt that it was just this reason alone. And Ace isn’t on the intellectual level that Dazai is, so that Fyodor would’ve enjoyed a “challenge” in outdoing him in his scheming.

It’s also different what he later does with the children. He needed to use those children in order to break Kunikida and impede the ADA.

- If we consider Possibility 2 (Fyodor is not able to control his ability and his ability reacts to any person he touches), then the scene with Karma doesn’t make sense:

-> Karma was able to touch Fyodor, but didn’t die back then. And as we know by now, people aren’t able to protect themselves from Fyodor’s ability via clothing.

With this there still remains Possibility 3 (Fyodor is not able to control his ability and his ability reacts on its own, but only in a certain situation) and Possibility 4 (Fyodor is able to control his ability, but his ability is still dependent on a certain situation in order to activate). Which brings us to the question:

Which factor triggers Fyodor’s ability?

What the name ‘Crime and Punishment’ could mean:

“Have you never wondered why my special ability doesn’t leave me in this fog? I am crime. I am punishment. Did you know? Crime and punishment are close friends. Borders vanish. Rooms awaken.”

“Crime and punishment are close friends.”

-> His ability could have something to do with guilt, since guilt is the worst punishment you can feel for your own crime.

Fyodor is well aware that the things he does are considered crimes, and despite his outer behaviour he feels guilty for the things he does or thinks he has to do.

The difference is that he believes he does it for the greater good and for humanity’s sake.

(And look at his face, he’s not exactly delighted about killing children.)

If his ability is based around guilt, then his victims also need to feel this certain emotion in order for Fyodor to use it. Or in other words, his ability gets triggered by this certain emotion. Considering the above where it’s explained that Fyodor must have some kind of semi-control over his ability (due to the whole Karma situation), then this means it belongs to Possibility 4 (Fyodor is able to control his ability, but his ability is still dependent on a certain situation in order to activate).

Having this theory in mind, then his confrontation with Ace has another meaning, other than Fyodor simply having fun with his mind games:

Ace does have zero regard for his subordinates, treating them like mere tools, literally calling them slaves. All this gets emphasized by his ability alone, that allows him to turn the life of a human (“trash” from Ace’s POV) into diamonds.

And Ace tells this Fyodor right off the bait, meaning with this information Fyodor knew that Ace didn’t feel any guilt about his actions (his crimes) and for his subordinates at all. If Ace doesn’t feel any guilt at all, from which Fyodor’s ability might be dependent on, then he wouldn’t be able to use it against him. Therefore, Fyodor couldn’t kill him by touching him, and needed to trick him.

Other possible hints for his ability being based on guilt are these:

Karma’s death:

-> Even though he had no power whatsoever over his upbringing and was sold as a slave since childhood, Karma still felt guilty for the things he had been doing since (or was forced to do), calling himself a bad person and seeing himself as unworthy of any help. Something which he personally revealed to Fyodor.

Ivan:

-> We don’t know what Fyodor’s “Happiness to the World” looks like. But Ivan must have had some kind of epiphany when Fyodor “removed the part of his brain that feels unhappiness”. Assuming that Fyodor is only able to remove the part of the brain that feels guilt, to which Ivan refers to as unhappiness, then people would indeed feel happier about their lives.

Nikolai:

-> Another character with a connection to Fyodor who mentions things like “emotions”, “freedom”, and “guilt”. Nikolai claims that Fyodor is the only one who truly understands him, so much that he even considers him a friend. Which means that Fyodor must’ve experienced something in his past similar to Nikolai and/or that he has the same notion as Nikolai (killing innocents for the greater good, living with the guilt of murder).

[Side note: Since Nikolai is planning to kill Fyodor now, Fyodor in return could be the one to actually kill Nikolai once and for all, simply confronting him with his guilt. Which would mean that in the end Nikolai would get his freedom by dying through Fyodor’s hands, freeing him from his emotions towards Fyodor and his guilt.]

[[Side side note: Even though I don’t want this to happen and hope it doesn’t end this way, because Nikolai is one of my fav characters. And he just respawned, it wouldn’t be fair, man! Everything… everything but the clown!]]

Why does Fyodor want to become God? His (possible) origin:

[Please keep in mind that the following is just mere speculation and just an example of what could’ve happened!]

Fyodor sees ability users as sinners and wants to rid the world of them. From his ideology this makes him a sinner too, because he himself is an ability user.

And maybe that is the reason why he so vehemently pursues this goal. Because he himself feels guilt for something he has done in the past.

An example for this would be:

Maybe someone close to him (his father or mother) accidentally killed someone (maybe through a car accident). And because of this they felt guilt over that person’s death.

Fyodor unaware and not in control of his ability at that time wanted to comfort this person close to him (through physical contact), which then led to him killing this person by accident in return.

A trauma like this could’ve been the source for his ‘ability users are sinners’ ideology and why he wants to change the world.

#Fyodor Dostoevsky #fyodor dostoevsky bsd #nikolai gogol bsd #ivan goncharov bsd #Bungou Stray Dogs #Nikolai Gogol #Ivan Goncharov #bsd meta #bsd theories #BSD #my metas #another meta that was in my drafts for a year or so

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vasiktomis · 4 years ago

Text

Pomegranate, Chapter 17: Quiet Earth, Part I.

John Seed x Female Deputy

Rating: Explicit.

Read it on Ao3 here!

Notes: Thanks all who have been keeping up with this! I'm so consistently floored by the amount of content creators we have in this fandom corner and the sheer level of workmanship that exists here. This is the first chapter of Pom that I'll be posting to tumblr, and I'm hoping to draw up a little sketch with each update. If you have any suggestions, I'd love to hear them! Big thank you to @shallow-gravy and @consumedkings as always for dealing with my stupidity and being a pair of top-notch angels, and also just like, everybody who takes time out of their day to engage with this? Y'all really sticking with ultra slow burn and I swear after some wicked angst in the next couple of chapters I'll finally be able to throw some well-deserved smut at you. WARNINGS: Forced conversion, descriptions of dissociation and derealisation, explicit language, sexual content, depictions of violence, guns, blood and gore. Canon-typical debauchery.

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“Don’t touch him!”

Mary May lunged with enough force for John to feel the wake of air sweep through him, even with how quickly she was snatched up and yanked back to her place. The soles of her tennis shoes squeaked against the floor as she was dragged to the far side of the room, unable to be trusted with providing audience to Nick’s Atonement.

A shame, really. It was nicer as a shared experience.

The Baptist rolled his jaw, off-setting some of the tension arising from the shrieks that the blonde flung at the back of his head. He righted himself, taking the tattoo gun from one of his faithful with a gracious nod, and turned his attention down to the pilot currently pinned to the floor. Without a word, he sank to his knees, straddling the man, keeping silent as he could just to listen out for any change in his demeanour. Fear. Grief. Defeat. Acceptance. A sign to prove his readiness.

Nick didn't flinch, breathing hard through his nose and watching with hateful eyes. John hovered an indicating hand over the man’s bare chest, bruised from the fight he’d put up against his capture, mentally mapping out placement. Then, he came in with the needle, beginning with the stem of an ’E’, right in the centre of Nick's sternum.

The pilot snorted, masking discomfort with indifference, turning a wince into a scoff. “Figures you don’t use stencils. I ain’t got a hope in hell of this turning out good, do I.”

That casual old Nick attitude. He missed it.

If only he’d let him do this 5 years ago. He wouldn’t have had to miss it.

John feigned offense. “Oh I’m sorry, Nick. Did you want me to do the rest in cursive? Add a feather? Infinity symbol?”

“For fuck’s sake-”

“Talk about tonal dissonance. It’s not meant to be pretty.” He grumbled. “Might’ve gotten a little more practice if you’d-”

A yell from the rear entryway pulled John’s hand away from his canvas. More squeaking. More interruption. Jerome Jeffries getting hauled into the church, held under each arm by the pair of Chosen that John had sent looking for him.

The Baptist cast a look over his shoulder at them, content with the sight of Jerome adequately beaten and bloodied. “Ahh. Pastor. Try to run and hide? It’s no wonder your flock ran astray with a shepherd so quick to leave them to the wolves.”

Jerome ignored him. No reply. No eye contact. A crime John noted to make worthy of capital punishment in the New Eden. The Pastor was set down beside Mary May, who immediately began seeing to his injuries. Murmuring bubbled between them.

“Did you reach them?” The bartender asked. Must’ve been a negative, because the next thing she did was curse.

“The Deputy was calling when they caught me.”

And if she had half the spine to come and broker an agreement for her friends, she’d be inbound.

“Could you at least gag them? I’m trying to concentrate.” John ordered no one in particular, earning another scoff from Nick. “The faster we work, the less we’ll have to get through once she arrives. The quicker we can be out of this heinous town.”

“Stay away from her, shitbag.” The pilot ground out, this time unable to save face when John retaliated, pressing the gun just a little too hard, digging down through an extra few layers of skin.

“Nick Rye, you’re a married man.” John tutted playfully, resuming his work. “That sin of yours again. Take, take, take. Didn’t think the Deputy to be your type. Wouldn’t say you’re hers, either.”

Nick looked downright disgusted at the prospect. Less concerned for the state of his wife - which meant she'd been a likely getaway. “Always been so fuckin’ jealous.”

“Come again?”

“Think folks are stupid? Think I don’t know you?”

“You don't know me, period.” John bit back, skin on the back of his neck flushing between boiling and freezing.

“Anyone else givin’ you this much trouble’d be long dead by now. That shit on the radio? Reckon you’d be talkin’ like that if your family could hear you across the river?” Nick continued, averting his gaze when John shot him a particularly poisonous look. He didn’t, however, find it necessary to respond to such a veiled accusation.

At least until -

“Everybody knows you wanna stick it to her, John-”

As if he’d been awaiting the chance, John’s free hand shot to Nick’s jaw, aching in protest when he squeezed, not stopping until he could feel the man’s molars beneath his flesh. “That’s about enough from you.” He crooned.

John had his desires, yes. He’d accepted that much. Had he not been sworn to celibacy, he might have jumped at the opportunity to respond to Cora’s advances last night. That said, she was still an outsider, and while her Atonement made the prospect less dicey, he couldn’t consciously consider laying with the woman in real life.

No matter how torturous it had become to gear his thoughts toward anything else.

He could be content with just her company, without making any further advances on her. Last night had simply been a moment of weakness, and he’d prevailed by stepping away.

“If you’ll excuse me.” John switched off the little machine once he’d completed his piece and promptly stood to beckon for replacement parts. Mary May might have gotten away with an allergic reaction last time he’d attempted this, but considering he’d be slicing it out of her within the hour, he couldn’t see any reason for her to be complaining. The bartender had been a thorn in his side from the start. While Nick and his wife had once lent John their...whatever a sinner’s closest equivalent was to friendship, Mary May had always been trouble. Wore her heart on her sleeve and trusted no one she hadn’t grown up around. Bolshie. Almost fucking killed him, once.

John busied himself with needle transfers and a pleasant expression. He could feel the woman’s eyes on him.

Did she think what Nick proclaimed? That complete and utter lie?

How fucking crass. No, he did not want to ’stick it’ to Cora. At least, as far as anyone else was concerned. He was fond of her, and - while yes, he had encountered temptation - if one disregarded the cum-stained, stolen panties in his pocket, and the conjured fantasies, and the purely incidental erection he’d maintained after the Deputy stuck her tongue down his throat last night - there was simply no evidence to suggest to anyone else that he was even remotely tempted to break the rules.

Sex was the furthest thing from his mind. It was mere coincidence that today had just so happened to fall on a morning in which he’d needed to trim.

…

If, however, she were to decide that she wanted to continue what she’d attempted last night, then surely he couldn’t be to blame if he only failed to stop her. It wasn’t technically fornication if he didn’t initiate it. Nor was it considered intercourse if -

“Brother John.”

John jumped, heart stopping, whipping his head around to the Chosen standing at the door of the church.

“What?" He asked thickly.

“The Deputy’s arrived.”

Right on cue, the crackling of gunshots drifted in alongside the Chosen’s announcement.

“Tell everyone to hold their fire.” John ordered. “We have them outnumbered tenfold. The Deputy can’t be stupid enough to create a hostage situation. Direct her here, and peacefully.”

The Chosen’s throat bobbed, swallowing back outrage, and John squinted hard at him, trying to dispel the flicker of green light in the mist outside as it settled against the man’s temple.

“John, I don’t think-”

He never got a chance to act on that incoming insubordination.

Instead, he jerked, cut off by a sickening crack as a section of his skull blew out of his head. Red mist and liquified brain matter followed, splattering against the doorframe, and the Chosen slumped lifeless onto the front step.

John wasn’t so much shaken by the killing as he was irritated by everyone else’s apparent refusal to let today go according to plan. Maybe also the pile of brains and hair now sitting on his once-pristine red carpet. He’d made this easy for the woman: kill everyone he could round up, leave her with no one to claim duty to, and get this all over and done with. Have her home by mid-afternoon. Embark on a new chapter and achieve salvation. It was that simple.

Woe to him for trusting in her common sense.

“Fuck’s sake. Wrath begets more wrath.” He muttered, smoothing a hand over his chin. He didn’t have the patience for this any longer. “Fine. Sister -”

A woman stood from the pews as soon as John made eye contact, equally as unshaken by the scene mere feet away.

“Send out word: the Deputy wants to sacrifice her friends for the sake of a fight.” John punctuated the end of his sentence with a click as he returned his focus to jamming the needles into his tattoo gun. “Give her what she wants. Take her by force.”

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The smokescreen was beginning to clear, but despite the weight it was taking off her lungs, Cora would’ve preferred it remain just a little longer. At least until they’d cleared out the town. Had they been quicker, it might have lasted longer. Covered their approach to Fall’s End. Given them more cover to sneak about unseen.

The streets, while still hazy, were visible now. It wasn’t a difficult task watching Peggie silhouettes run from building to building in search of her team. Resistance members and civilians were either in the process of being rounded up, or littered the road and pavement, dead. The Ryes, Mary May, and Pastor Jerome were yet to be seen amongst either group.

Same went for Boomer.

Aside from the barking of orders from Chosen and faithful, there was little sound. Knowing how much of a fuss her dog had put up the last time he’d been caught by the Project struck Cora’s nerves. He was his own alarm, and he would not go peacefully.

Not hearing him was an indication of the worst.

Some part of her brain argued against the idea. Vouching that John wouldn’t have hurt the creature. That was her dog. He had to be an exception to the massacre, no matter how vicious he behaved.

She had to find him, and creeping through the rear entry of the Spread Eagle was the first point of call.

Luckily enough, the back door had yet to be boarded up. Peggies who rushed past covered windows hardly stopped to peek inside the place for fear of being tainted by the presence of alcohol. Sneaking in was simple enough, too, at least once Jess had picked the lock.

“I’m going to pretend that door was open.” The Deputy murmured her equivalent to praise, passing into the building.

Grace headed straight in after her, taking a left to search for any sign of Mary May while she took a right toward the stairs.

“You pretend the Cook’s head was already gone when we found him?” Jess whispered.

“Freak accident. You all saw it.”

“First floor’s clear.” Grace announced from the serving hatch in the kitchen, clearly unhappy about it.

“Right.” Cora acknowledged, “I’ll check up top.”

The second story was as dead-quiet as the first. Furniture had been knocked over in the hallway and bedrooms had been raided. None of it indicated anything good, but she still had to know.

Cora pushed open the door to her room, and while she held no expectation of what she’d find, her heart sank anyway.

It was empty.

Boomer was gone.

Only his makeshift collar and a tattered bandana remained atop the rug he’d been snoozing on that morning.

Her dog.

John had either taken him or killed him, just like the rest. He’d do the same to the rest of her team. She should’ve taken the Baptist’s offer before the latter had even become a possibility.

“No sign?” Grace affirmed once the Deputy slipped back down to the first floor. “My guess is either they’re in hiding, or John’s giving them special treatment. If they were dead he’d be parading them.”

Sharky and Hurk exchanged a frown when Cora offered only a nod, notably more meek than usual.

“Was he in there, darlin’?” Adelaide asked, a little too gently not to invite a sting to her eyes.

Cora felt her jaw clench. It was a different breed of nausea, trying to keep her composure under the scrutiny of the rest of the team. She managed to shake her head, and Adelaide’s hand found her shoulder.

“Could still be with the others, yet.” The woman offered.

“So how do we find them?” Jess asked.

Find John Seed, of course.

“Finding them’s one thing. Getting to them might be the harder part.” Cora began. “The smokescreen’s only getting thinner and there’s Peggies everywhere. It's grasslands from here to the hills. No way we can herd everyone across a field on-foot, safely. We’ve got to make sure they stay freed, first.”

“And?” Jess huffed. “We’re gonna kill some Peggies, right?”

The blonde considered that.

“We split up. Search the buildings for anyone who hasn’t been caught yet. Round them up and plant explosives as we go. With enough chaos, maybe we can have a shot at turning the tide in the short term.”

Sharky was practically trembling. “Explosives, like, everywhere?”

“Everywhere. The more damage, the better.” Cora replied. “Adelaide, Xander, pair up. Sharky and Hurk, same with you.”

“And us on range?” Jess grinned, trading a look with Grace who maintained absolute stoicism. “I’m so into that.”

“No.”

…

“Say what?”

“No more ranged attacks. I need you and Grace to head back to the van -”

Jess was advancing on her before she’d even finished her sentence.

“You’re pulling me outta the fight? The fuck gives?” The huntress loomed over the Deputy, incredulous. Cora made an effort to stay put, but Jess’s insistence managed to outweigh her stubbornness, forcing the blonde to compromise by leaning as far back as she could without falling.

“We can’t keep running on short-term wins.” Cora insisted. “We have to put our foot down. No more small assaults. No more hoping John gets demoralised enough that he hands himself over.”

Sharky frowned. “What’re you saying?”

She met his gaze, puffing out her chest, retaking her space. “I’m saying the Henbane Bridge is unmanned right now. If we get word to the County Jail, there’s no roadblock to stop them from helping us win this. John Seed’s throwing everything he can at us. I say we try for the same. I say we end it for good. We’re gonna take back Holland Valley. Today.”

“...You really like that dog, huh.”

“That too.”

Jess looked unconvinced. “So the two of us are running errands while the rest of you are holding the fort? Fucking bullshit.”

“I told you. No more range.” Cora bit back, jabbing a thumb toward Hurk and Sharky. “You’d rather send Boshaws and Drubmans to convince Tracey to send us her best people? No offence.”

“None taken, bitch.” Adelaide grumbled.

Grace exhaled, throwing away momentary hesitation. “We’ll be fast.”

Cora traded a nod with the sniper before looking to Jess once more.

Still unconvinced.

“They have cars with guns on them, remember?”

The corner of Jess’s mouth ticked. Temptation.

Mission accomplished.

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The tacky fucking carpet was the first thing she noticed, creeping along Main Street. Bliss petals had been sprinkled all over the road leading up to the church.

The carpet ended at the door. An invitation if she ever saw one. Boastful. Arrogant.

A pang of dread ached through Cora's bones, holding her in place while she drew her revolver. It could be an ambush. It probably was an ambush, but there was nothing she could feasibly do to avoid it. If the others were in there, then she couldn't wait around any longer.

She had to do this. At least hold out until Jess and Grace returned, with or without help.

She'd been running for long enough. All other options had been exhausted. At least John offered the least awful defeat.

Drawing close to the entrance, the Deputy pointedly avoided examining a dead crow that had been impaled upon the wall. She inhaled, holding the breath in her lungs, steadying her heart rate.

It was only freedom.

She opened the door, immediately training the gun out before her, following its guide into the room.

About a dozen Peggies dotted the space, leaning against walls, lining the pews - all angled at the pulpit, observing Nick on the floor. He stifled a cry while John sliced through the final remaining layers of skin binding the tattoo to his chest, peeling the word 'GREED' out of his flesh. Blood pooled on the floor around them, and the moment John had stepped away, the pilot was descended on with antiseptic and bandages.

The Deputy waited for nausea at the sight to take its course. It never did. She was all but numbed to the sight.

"Deputy, run!"

Mary May's voice cut through the silence, and the bartender lurched from her own spot on the ground. Guns raised all around the room, swinging around to aim for Cora.

”Hold!” John barked immediately, unconcerned when the Deputy shifted her aim to him. Instead, he busied himself with washing his sullied hands. “Hold your fire.”

His followers obeyed.

Cora, meanwhile, cocked the revolver in her grip. One foot edged into the room, and she glanced around for the Project’s captives before returning her gaze to John. All on the other side of the room. Pinned. Fuck.

“Hope County Sheriff’s Department.” She announced, staring the Baptist down, ignoring the grin that crept onto his face - like he found it fucking funny. “Weapons on the ground. Step away from the hostages.”

“Hostages?” John snorted. He gestured Pastor Jerome, Mary May, and Nick. “These are guests! This is their Atonement. This is your Atonement.”

“Drop the fucking weapons.”

John’s patience thinned. Quickly. “I’m not doing this with you.” He replied simply. “Not today.”

With his own look around the room, John inclined his head. An unspoken order to which everyone carrying a gun turned them on her allies.

“We both know you don’t have enough bullets for everyone. Nor do you have the time. So why don’t you put down my gun and surrender.”

“Don’t-” Mary May was cut off with the tap of steel against her temple. Warning.

John was right. She was outnumbered. There was no chance of getting any of them out with force alone.

She inhaled. Exhaled. Watched the fondness slip back onto John’s face like it had never left, and set the gun on the floor.

“That’s my girl.” John murmured. Then, he motioned. “Get her ready.”

Cora’s stomach dropped as two sets of arms coiled around hers, each pulling and pushing, prickling at her skin with unfamiliar, sickening touch. Biology told her to resist. Escape the sensation. The downward pulling.

“No, stop it.” Escaped her while she squirmed. “Get off. Stop touching me-”

“Her friends can’t be far. Find them.” The Baptist ordered, turning away toward the pulpit.

Cora’s knees hit the floor. There was no holding the repetition of protests, but even as she consciously elevated the volume of her voice, it grew quieter in her ears. Calculated attempts to jerk away and make an escape became automatic twitches.

One of John’s followers - a female - crept into view, fingers tugging at the top button on her uniform collar. John readied a tattoo gun over the woman’s shoulder, and the Deputy’s mind screamed alarm bells. Get out. Escape. Fight back. Regain control.

“I won’t hurt you, sister.”

This time, she sank, curling forward, angling herself away from the woman. Another attempt, and she wrenched away again, snarling. Then, the Peggies around her must have gotten tired of all the fuss, because the tear of cotton clawed at her ears. Ringing through her brain.

Her back felt cold all of a sudden.

Green material slipped down her arms, and at the sight of her own uniform pooling in shreds in her own lap, Cora ceased her thrashing. The shredded shirt was yanked from her belt and tossed aside, and she watched with growing resignation while John turned back around.

His gaze found hers. Then flickered downward, first to the compression bra, then a margin to the right. “Here I thought you’d be unmarked.” He commented, inspecting what was visible of the old ink on her lower ribs while he approached.

Hands pressed against Cora’s shoulders, and she drifted back until her shoulder blades hit the floor.

John continued to loom until he stood directly over her. He sank to his knees, expression softening with his descent until he was on all fours on top of her. He looked almost adoring, and she hated how it comforted her, just slightly. She hated how the hands had disappeared from her limbs, and yet she still made no further attempt to escape. He had every ounce of power now.

She didn’t know she’d started trembling until his free hand swept over her collarbones, mapping out her chest, calming the gooseflesh beading on her from the chill, or the fright, or perhaps just that this whole thing felt so humiliatingly exposing.

A blush swelled over John’s throat, maybe indicating some straying line of thought. He snapped out of it and settled to sit on her hips. “This looks familiar, doesn’t it?” He teased, hovering the tattoo gun right over the centre of her sternum.

“Dont.” Was all she could manage. Weak. Pleading. “I don’t want you to.”

“You have no idea how good you’re going to feel after this.” John cooed.

One of his fingers drifted along her jaw. An attempt at comforting her, but to no avail. He looked equal parts gentle and feral with excitement.

The machine buzzed, lowering pitch when the needles finally pressed into her flesh.

This was it.

She’d lost. There was no going back, anymore. No more normal, no more ridding herself of this family. They’d taken everything, and now they were claiming ownership over her, too.

The others were being hunted. It was only a matter of time. John was working too quickly. They’d be gone before the Cougars even crossed the river.

Cora’s nerves muted. Sound closed to just the rumble of blood in her ears. She receded into herself. Found a backseat in her mind, away from the sensory overload and the humiliation and her own failure while her body quietly continued: ”Dont, don’t, stop.”

She’d lost, and John wouldn’t stop. Not while he was branding the evidence of his victory into her flesh.

Defeat tasted worse than anticipated.

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Bullets whizzed overhead while Sharky and Hurk took cover beneath the window, watching helplessly as the aisle of potato chips and bar nuts was torn to shreds by the onslaught. Dorito dust filled the shop like mustard gas.

“Cuz, I think they found us!” Hurk barked, snapping an arm over his head in defence when a stray round ricocheted off the front counter.

“What gives you that impression?” Sharky hit back, hurriedly setting down his shotgun and shrugging his backpack to the floor.

“How many are there?”

“How about you check?”

A moment of quiet occurred while the cousins glared at each other, leaving their standoff to a battle of no blinking. Then the Peggies outside must’ve finished re-loading, because the back wall of the shop was suddenly being shot into swiss cheese.

They were okay. Everything was cool. Addie and Xander had taken their share of explosives and gone the quiet route. Grace and Jess were gone. Shorty had disappeared into the church, and while he couldn't count the best, Sharky was pretty confident that John had caught her.

Could they have kept on looking for survivors and breaking out captives? Sure - but why do that when they could kill, like 40 birds with one stone and beeline for the gas station? It was conveniently across the road from the church, empty of any and all life barring the dormant tanks underground. An explosion that big was sure to fuck up like a good portion of Main Street. Not even the Chosen would be able to resist checking it out.

Disconnecting the safety switches had been easy. He’d been arrested for doing it like 5 times already. Cops, Peggies; it didn’t matter - Sharky knew what he was doing, and without the giant swinging dick of the law hanging over him, the man was on a mission. Cultists shooting at him was fine. He was used to that.

Threat of death or no, he wasn’t giving up the chance to see this place blow sky high.

“We’ll be outta here any second, Hurky.” Sharky assured. “Just gotta sprinkle a little C-4 around the place and we’ll be gone before it even goes off.”

Hurk was sweating. A lot. He was accustomed to being shot at, but normally, he had more than just Sharky to get him out of a tight spot. “Alright, bro. Gimme some. Many hands and what have you.”

“Fuck yeah. First step, toss some at the tanker outside. We wanna get the place as fiery as possible up here to wake up the big boys underground, and-”

Sharky stopped in his tracks, eyeing the backpack he’d just been in the process of unzipping.

“-uhh.”

“Uhh?”

“Hurky, can I be real with you?”

“Is now the best time for a deep and meaningful?” Hurk hissed, crawling toward him nonetheless.

The arsonist stuck his hand down the pack, rifling through fluff and mesh. “I, uh, I think I brought the wrong bag. And by think I mean know without a shadow of a doubt.”

Hurk watched as his cousin tugged the green, furry headpiece of a dragon out into the open.

“You brought-...”

“I brought my fursuit.”

“Not the C-4?”

“Not the C-4.”

“Okay, bro. That's fine. I'm not mad. Human error. Not even a little bit?”

Sharky checked again, just for good measure. “Nope...so, uhm...you got a match?”

Hurk ran a hank through his hair. “Not to poo poo your ideas, but that probably ain’t the best move.”

So just like that, they were fucked.

Jess and Grace still hadn’t come back. The others were nowhere to be seen. Shorty was holed up in that church, and he and Hurk were about to be rounded up by born-again virgins.

Shit, if that were the case -

“Well, if this is gonna be the last opportunity.” Sharky grunted, tugging the suit out and unzipping the back. “May as well enjoy our last minutes of freedom, huh?”

Hurk took the cue, creeping across the destroyed shop floor and reaching for a popped bag of pretzels. He sat back against the wall, leaning against the rocket launcher he’d propped up against the corner.

“Man.” The brunette sighed, staring at the floor. “If only we had some other kind of ranged, explosive device.”

“No shit.” Sharky agreed. “Some high velocity shit would fix this.”

They exchanged a sympathetic look once the arsonist had zipped himself up and crept over and sit beside his cousin, both leaning on either side of the RPG.

Hurk held out the bag.

“Pretzel?”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

“Was that so bad?” John asked, placing the tattoo gun aside and framing the Deputy’s marked chest. ’WRATH', in true black, beading with blood. The skin surrounding the text was mottled and inflamed. Excess ink covered the area in patches, gathering in the dip of her cleavage, disappearing beneath her sports bra.

All that sin, already leaking out through the exit he’d made for her.

Gorgeous.

Cora didn’t respond. That was fine. Shock was normal. She’d thank him once this was all over. For now, she just trembled, lock jawed, dissociated gaze searching what John had thought was him until he sat up. No, instead she was watching the ceiling.

John flashed a smile, blocking out a tiny streak of dread at the sight of the woman so vacant. Sweeping a lock of stained hair over her shoulder, he smoothed his fingers past her neck, attempting to gently angle her focus back to him. “Hey. You can come back now. We’re all done.”

You're finally on the other side. React to it. React to me. Look at me-

The boom came first, hollow and deep, and John felt the floor beneath him rumble. Chandeliers and decorations wobbled from the disturbance. Several of his followers shot from their seats, immediately abandoning the Resistance leaders they’d guarded in favour of pacing back and forth, trying to get a look at whatever was happening outside.

“Is this it?”

“Is it the Collapse?”

“It’s time?”

“John, is it the Collapse?”

The panic escalated quickly, forcing the Baptist to break his attention away from the empty woman below him and rein in the flock.

“Calm down.” He exclaimed, “It’s not the Collapse. It’s probably just-”

Another boom. Almost deafeningly loud.

This time, the whole church shook. Windows shattered in their creaking panes and smashed to the floor while pews squealed heavily in protest.

Contrary to his assertion, John dove down, covering the Deputy with his body. Holy shit, was it the Collapse?

The tremor must have been enough to snap Cora out of her trance, because a muffled “Get your tits out of my face.” buzzed against John’s chest.

Tragically, however, the Baptist never got the opportunity to reply to her. Had it not been for the fucking tennis shoe colliding with the side of his skull, he imagined he’d have something very clever to say. Alas, pain shot through his head and he jerked to the side, fighting against the blow to stay put. A snarl from Mary May, his apparent attacker, sounded in retaliation. She dove into him, knee driving into his ribs, throwing him off of the Deputy.

His thoughts left him for the briefest moment, overtaken by ensuing gunshots and shouts and the shrieks of the bartender as she was clawed away from him. Her hand shot forward right as she was yanked up, intended as a punch. It didn’t land, and John couldn’t help but shoot her a smirk for her failure.

“Deputy, gun!”

Nevermind. It wasn’t a punch after all. Mary May had been pointing over his shoulder at the revolver that had been surrendered on the floor. His revolver. The same one Cora was now scrambling toward.

No.

John lurched, heart leaping into his throat.

Not now. Not after he’d won. Not when they were so close.

His hand found the leg of Cora’s pants, wrenching, pulling her away from the weapon, and she kicked against him. Her finger tips slid against the barrel of the revolver, tugging it into her palm.

God wouldn’t fucking undo his victory.

John snarled, catching the Deputy’s wrist when she tried to aim - at him no less. Without her own recovery time achieved, he was able to wrestle the weapon from her easily enough, flattening her struggling body beneath his just long enough to hook an arm around her waist. He twisted around, holding the woman’s back against his belly. Her squirming ceased with the press of the muzzle against her head, and the moment her allies had taken notice of the change, everything went still.

Finally.

A little civility.

Several of John’s followers lay on the floor, either dead or close to it. Only a half-dozen remained, though the pair of Chosen had survived and placed themselves closest to their leader.

Pastor Jerome had procured a handgun from within his own bible - something that pulled a breathless laugh out of John as he surveyed the others. Nick hadn’t been able to arm himself, but he’d still tackled one of the faithful to the ground. His knuckles were bloodied. A familiar sight. Mary May had wrestled a gun of her own away from the woman who’d seized her. She aimed it shakily at John.

Armed but outnumbered, outgunned, and now, they were in check.

They never learned, did they?

“The way you people behave, you’d think salvation was a bad thing.” John tittered. “Right. Now, let’s try this again. Atonement, or damnation.” To punctuate his meaning, he tapped the muzzle against Cora’s head. She grunted in protest, and he ignored her. Of course it was a bluff. No one else knew that but him, though. It was too risky a move for the Resistance to let him do away with the one person that banded their factions.

She was their leader. They couldn’t lose her.

John looked around the room once more, locking eyes with Jerome first - then Mary May. “Are we going to behave?”

The answer was immediate and clear: a gunshot cracking through the Baptist’s ears and the flash of a blast spilling from Mary May’s weapon. Cora’s elbow driving into his stomach and the reaction time of his Chosen snapping to attention, covering him, already hauling John out of the church and onto the street.

Fuck no, he wasn't leaving without his prize.

"GRAB HER!" John howled, struggling against the attempts to get him to safety. "Leave the rest!"

It was a reluctant effort, but the Deputy was yanked along as well, shoved into Johns arms on his repeated orders, with me, with me.

“Mary May, what the fuck!” The Deputy roared over her shoulder.

“Sorry Deputy! I missed!”

Missed?

“You sure about that? Jesus fucking Christ!”

More shots sounded, but only the noise pursued them from the building. It wasn’t until John had shoved Cora into the back of the waiting truck that he realised how warm his hand had gotten. Wet, too.

“Get to the ranch!” One of the Chosen snarled up front, casting a look back at the Baptist while the vehicle took off, watching as he peeled away from the blonde to inspect himself.

Blood.

He was bleeding. But where from? Barring the sting of his scabs and that kick to the head, nothing hurt. There were no wounds hiding under his sleeves or -

A hiss sounded from the Deputy beside him, curling in on herself.

Shit.

She hadn’t elbowed him.

“Cora-” John scrambled for her. "Cora, let me see."

“Told you not to call me that.” The Deputy grit out, kicking at him until she’d well and truly jammed herself into the corner of the seat and the car door. Her left hand gripped her right forearm, just below the elbow and to no avail. Crimson coated the skin on her side, encasing her arm completely and seeping through her fingertips.

She was bleeding. Not heavily, but steadily.

”Deputy.” John bit back, advancing. “You’re hurt. Let me help-”

Just like that, the kicking resumed. “Don’t touch me-DON’T FUCKING TOUCH ME-”

“For once in your fucking life, just relax!”

Only incomprehensible snarling came in response.

John rolled his jaw, brimming with as much irritation as he was adrenaline. The Resistance had made their choice. Regretful, but final. He’d gotten what he came for, and he wasn’t intending on losing her just because she was too stubborn to accept help.

He glanced at the revolver still in his grip. Then back at Cora, rotating the grip toward her. A threat. “Are you going to let me help, or am I going to have to calm you down?”

“Don’t you dare.” Her words came hoarse. She gave scowling a red hot go, but without the rationale to deny him, the Deputy lacked conviction. She exhaled. “Fuck it. We've done this enough already. You get ten minutes. Then you’re under arrest.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Her cheek twitched. A weak chuckle. The slightest flash of acknowledgement as she let him press his weight over her forearm. Thankfully, the wound wasn’t pulsing; nor was there a puncture wound. A gouged strip had been carved into her flesh where the bullet had grazed, but nothing vital seemed to have been struck.

“That - you can keep saying.”

"You're a flirt when you're in shock, Deputy." Had John not been too busy regulating about a dozen other emotions, he might have flushed at her words. For a moment, he just sat there, basking in the borderline friendliness on her face. Then, it occurred to him that they were among watchful company, and he cleared his throat, returning to his task.

Minutes passed. No more words were exchanged. Not until they’d passed the Rye and Son’s sign.

The Chosen in the front passenger’s seat looked over his shoulder, dismissing another over the radio before regarding the Baptist. “The Resistance isn’t making ground. The faithful are still rounding up stragglers, and we’ve taken casualties, but numbers are looking strong. Medic will meet you at the ranch, John. We can deliver our newest sister to the Gate while you recover.”

John inclined his head. “Much obliged. We need this one to stay with us until she’s completed her vows. She can’t be trusted unsupervised, but I won’t put the responsibility of containing her back on our people again.” He looked to Cora, then. Her face had run pale and she’d gone clammy, but she remained upright. Just...woozy. Pacified, for now.

He’d got what he came for. Fuck the rest.

“I have something to say.” The blonde announced, swaying against John’s arm. “I know why Mary May shot me.”

“This another one of your jokes?” John deadpanned.

“This one’s funny, I swear.”

“...go on, then.”

“It’s because I never tip.”

For a moment, Cora looked very satisfied with herself. Then, she retched, slumping forward into the Baptist’s lap when he instinctually jolted out of the potential line of fire. He hurried to steady her, keeping tight hold over her wound, and grimaced while the noise escaped her a second time.

Thank God nothing came out; his shoes would’ve been the first to know about it.

The Deputy didn’t sit back up.

That was fine. So long as she wasn’t dead. So long as she wasn’t fighting back.

“It’s all the sin escaping you.” John explained, off-handed, when a complaining grunt sounded below. “Evil being expelled from your body. You’ll feel better soon.”

“Pretty sure it’s my blood pressure, actually. Soon as I’m good again, you’re history.”

When one disregarded the fact that she’d had a gun trained on him earlier - and the blood drying uncomfortably on his clothes - and the persistent pounding of a headache from Mary May’s heel, this was almost pleasant. The quiet roads. The Deputy, all but atoned with her head on his thigh. Not fighting back. Conceding defeat. Peaceful.

He got what he came for.

He’d won.

He was saved.

Passing his thumb over Cora’s ribs, John’s attention was pulled back to the old ink peeking out from beneath the band of her top. Text, blurred and flattened enough to be years old, and too obscured to decipher.

“Thought I’d be your first.” The brunette murmured.

“Jealous?”

Yes.

“Don’t be ridiculous. What’s it say?”

“‘The Mountains Are Calling’.”

A sickening wave of dread passed over the Baptist. The rock forming in his throat, icy and bitter and seizing him against any reply.

The mountains are calling.

Jacob. Joseph. The Trials. Atonement wasn’t the final step. Handing her over to his brothers was the final step.

He got what he came for, but the woman in his arms wasn’t the trophy intended for him.

He was saved. He’d redeemed himself. He’d completed his task and Joseph would permit him beyond the gates. That was all he was supposed to do. That was enough.

That had to be enough.

“‘And I Must Go’.” John completed quietly.

Cora tilted her head a little, not quite looking at him - almost like she was trying not to. “You know John Muir.”

“Not enough to warrant a photo on the bedside table.”

“Shut up.”

There was nothing convincing about the chuckle he offered. He was too busy observing her, studying the side of her face. Committing her to memory as if he hadn’t spent years acquainting himself with every spot and micro-expression.

“Maybe working for you will be bearable.” She murmured, and John’s heart only sank further. "If I don't manage to arrest you."

The mountains are calling.

She still had no idea that all the promises he’d made her had been fabricated. That she wouldn’t be staying. That he’d lied to her.

The mountains were calling. In a few days time, she’d know it. She’d despise him. She’d be taken off his hands and he’d assume his regular duties once again.

He’d saved both of them.

Cora’s thumb absently grazed back and forth on his knee. Ignorant. “Can I ask something?”

It took everything in him not to mirror the action against her skin.

“Of course.”

“Can I start next Monday?”

"What happened to you being such a workaholic?"

"To be honest with you, I'm really fucking tired."

She’d be incredible. Jacob would love her. Joseph would be proud. John had accomplished something near-impossible for his family, and even if the Deputy hated him - even if she forgot him entirely, he was content with the knowledge that he’d have brought her to salvation.

Even if they never saw each other again, he’d know that she’d passed through the gates. That she’d climb to the surface once the world had been scorched clean. She’d rebuild, and marry, and have children, and he’d do the same.

Hopeful anticipation and the agony of longing had never felt so similar before.

“Fine.” John smiled, giving in, sliding his fingers up her arm and coaxing a stray lock of hair out of her face. There were no promises he’d be able to do it again after this. “But on one condition.”

“What?”

“Spend those days with me.”

Cora stirred, angling to peer up at him out of the corner of her eye. She smiled crookedly.

“Deal.”

#far cry 5 #john seed #cora stammos #far cry 5 fanfic #far cry 5 oc #john seed x female deputy #all hail cora's big fucking muscles #no beta we die like men

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nightswithkookmin · 4 years ago

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Was Jk shading Taehyung during his New Years wishes to him at GDA? Twitter people are reading a LOT into it, saying that Jk is still salty at Tae and vice versa. They seem pretty chill to me. Why do people always find reasons to believe there is Vminkook drama?Is there a reason to think they aren't repairing their freindship?

VMINKOOK...

First of all, why would JK shade Taehyung? What are they fighting about, I wonder. Has anyone known JK to be the passive aggressive king slash shade throwing one in that trio? Because, not me...

I don't see him as the, 'those two are hanging out now followed by a slight head tilt,' kind of person. The 'Jimin wants to come but JK is keeping him from coming,' the 'well, you ignore me anyway so I couldn't tell you were on a mission' kind.

Or even the, 'my friendship relationships are gold to me and it's important for me to nurture those connections' knowing damn well the elephant in the room has a possessive streak and he himself has been on record, allegedly, stating he has one same age friend and all his friends are hyungs- so what is JK to you then Jimin?

Then the whole, 'texting is not a great way to build connections and is a barrier to effective communication' -words spewed in full cognizance of the fact JK is a bad texter yet prefers texting to talking on phone anyway- that is what I call shade. Not sure what was in the water that day, but chilee Jimin was all over the place in that Be Behind video. Lmho.

I think everyone, including even the semi-rational Tuktukker, know damn well what JK meant by that statement and what had prompted it- but leave it to them to circumvent.

Ah, V hyung... we used to have a special bond. When we were trainees, we had such great chemistry. V used to be the easiest hyung to talk to, now it's awkward.

Where is the shade in this? I don't think at all that he is or was in anyway shading Tae or any one. To shade would imply he has stock. He don't.

I hate when people talk about Tae Kook as if there is something wrong with their bond. There isn't. It is what it is. It's just not what their shoppers make it out to be. They are looking for depth where there is none. The fact of the matter is Tae Kook lacks depth to their dynamics. We know it, JK knows it, BigHit knows it. No amount of bullying Jimin or Jokers will add that missing depth back to their relationship. Sorry.

'He is still salty,' honey he was never salty about anything to begin with. They tried it! Making it sound like JK wants Tae to change in order to relate with him again. He don't.

Why would JK be salty about Tae's growth? Why would he object to Tae's growth?

Because that's what it is. This whole Tae Kook tensions is not about them fighting, it's about them growing apart. Tae grew the fuck up and JK can't relate with him or treat him the way he used to when they were young.

And if these self absorbed, legally blind shoppers looked beyond Tae Kook for a second, they will know it's not just JK complaining about Tae changing and becoming different as he grew up.

Tae used to be the easiest hyung to talk to and bully because they were closer in age and Tae allowed for such familiarity between them. Similar to how, Jin and Jimin allows for a certain degree of familiarity and informality between them and Jk.

While Tae allowed and was open to this level of closeness and informality between them, JK apparently held on to the gates, only scraping the surface of it and inhibiting the depth that could have been to their dynamics.

Was Tae content with that dynamic? No. Did he communicate that to JK? May be he did but JK wouldn't let his guards down. Tae failed to breach JK's emotional boundaries and years later he would express this sentiment openly to JK in their conversation in Soop.

Whereas, JK admitted to Jimin's successful breach of his emotional walls when he recounted the story of their rainy day fight- let me not hear any one compare Jikook to any of JK's ship in BTS, I whoop your ass. D!

This is the intimacy that is missing in Tae Kook. When you are close to someone, you not only feel at ease with them enough to express your thoughts freely with them, you are comfortable enough with them to be yourself, be different, to antagonize them without the fear that your differences and outbursts will sever your bond or lead to irreparable damage to your bond.

Fact is, in as much as JK felt close to Tae in the early days, he harbored a fear that being fully himself enough to be 'opinionated' and fully honest in his self expressions towards him, would break their bond.

He clearly didn't trust their bond was strong enough to handle all of that. That's the intimacy you find in Jikook. The trust. They are both unapologetically themselves with eachother because they trust in their bond.

Which means they share a lot but are also very opinionated with eachother, clash and assert themselves with eachother. And I know the kumbaya fake woke Jokers hate to hear it, but Jikook are strong not because they don't fight but because their bond withstands the test of a fight as Tae explained in his conversation with JK in Soop.

He was able to get closer with Jimin and Jin by being openly assertive with them- going against Jimin in the dumpling incident and all the times they fought, directly confrontational with Jin over their dance choreo but with JK he had always been scared to open himself in that way with him for whatever reason- I won't bother speculating on. It's their ship, they should do the maths.

May be he learned his lesson. He's learned not to fear conflict, to be assertive without fearing he would be punished for it, to be less passive aggressive as he was before and express himself and his feelings more openly over the years.

But it took him closing himself off to get there. Always looking in photos as if Yeontan ate the last brisket. Exuding melancholic vibes.

Young Jk equally didn't have a positive view on conflict and conflict resolution and I think he knew his place as the youngest and did not want to be as opinionated or assertive against them and so, as he explained to Tae in Soop, he opted to keep a safe distance emotionally from everyone- not just Tae.

When JK talks about we used to have a special bond, all he means is they used to be mischievous, get in trouble together, be brats, chat shit under their breaths behind their hyungs- partners in crime and as I like to call them, be the evil power duo of BTS.

They literally shared one brain cell lol, and conspired a lot. Their bond was unique only in that Tae was a rebel at heart and a bit innocent or immature as RM and the others would say.

Ship wise, Tae used to be on his side. He was protective of him and and looked out for him when they were young- that's of course before he started passive aggressively exposing JK's relationship with Jimin on VLives, incessantly shipping Jimin with Suga, dragging JK's ass away from JM's car so he could ride with him and all of those harmless moments that to anyone with little understanding of Tae's character would assume Tae didn't support JK's relationship.

And even after Soop, he put JK on the spot when he tried eye fucking Jimin through the view finder during their dynamite MV- he knew what JK was going to do. He's seen him do that a countless times to Jimin- HE KNOWS.

There is a reason JK gave him that look in the Dynamite shoot interview when he thought Tae was intentionally trying to expose him holding hands with Jimin behind Suga.

As much as these little things may be irritating to Kook, I don't think Tae gotta kiss his ass too. Jk can be messy sometimes with his Jikook agenda.

Of course they dynamic would change if Tae changed too- which is what Jimin and everyone says of Taehyung. He is very reserved and mature now. He is not the same childish, immature, reckless teen JK or Tuktukkers used to know.

He grew faster than either JK or JM had hoped and they both miss that part of him. Tae said he wished he could get a time machine and show Army the 'Chimchar' he was back in the day. The only way Taekook can be real is if we all hop into a time machine and go back in time to change the trajectory of events.

Tuktukkers need to let go of their old ship, that ship is dead and embrace the new ship brewing in its stead.

Jimin have said occasionally, that side of Tae pops out but he is very different from who he used to be when they were young. Which explains these outbursts of moments and interactions reminiscent of their past bond but that's all that is.

Why do these people insist on infantilizing Tae and holding him to his past?

That comment at GDA wasn't shade. But it was an inside Joke I feel. Like I said, when JK talks about their past history and bond, to me it's reference to a time period where Tae was on his side and was mischievous. To me it's code for 'I miss when you were less uptight and strict.'

He brought up when Tae gave them leeway and was lenient with their schedule during the making of Be- a sentiment all the members expressed in the Be behind video when they praised Tae for giving them much room in their schedules.

It was the same thing he said during his speech to Tae at GDA after bringing up the whole past bond thingy. He wanted to express appreciation to Tae perhaps because the loose schedule Tae had created had given him much time to go home and give his man a blowjob or go house shopping with him- who knows.

The way he kept looking at Jimin while saying that... yea. I'm going with that. Lol.

That loose schedule definitely put Tae in JK and JM's good graces.

My take away from that moment though, is- JK's agenda to give Tuktukkers hernia🤣

Lord I'm dying. I laughed so hard my ribs hurt. Pray for me. Lmho.

Chilee JK.

Dude is on a mission to run the entire Taekook gay, Taekook married propaganda campaign into the ground. What guts me is, he knows what Tae Kook is. I bet he went online after that Tae Kook Vlive to watch Tae Kook compilations. He's been on a mission to obliterate that ship since. Lol.

I mean I won't put it past him. Probably looked up Yoonmin while he was at it and showed Jimin analysis videos of him moaning in Suga's bedroom🤣🤣🤣🤣

Would explain why he was laughing when he saw Yoonmin in the comments during the VLive and why Jimin looked like he wanted to eat us alive. Lmho.

Oh Tae touched my peepee? You bloody moaned in Suga's bedroom how about we call it even?

ROTFL.

I joke but I mean, this is the same dude who took an online personality test after Tae read his results to him in Soop- he definitely watched those Tae Kook compilation-Y'all laugh else I'll shoot you. Lmho. I can't be the only one who finds this funny!

He knows what shipping is, he knows how statements like that would be construed by the fans- and the fact Jimin had spent an entire interview and behind scenes openly disavowing his glorified friendship connections... I smell a renewal of commitment somewhere.

Don't mind me. I play too much sometimes.

There is nothing wrong with Tae Kook's friendship. If anything, it seems JK feels very appreciative of Tae in recent times which is usually a good sign between them because for Vminkook to thrive they all need to make space for eachother and for the pairings amongst them to thrive- Vmin, Taekook and Jikook.

I hope this helps?

Signed,

GOLDY

#jikook #jikooktheories #jikook analysis #jikook bts #jikook is real #goldy analysis #ask response #ask goldy #goldy blogs #goldy #nightswithkookmin

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mdawritings · 4 years ago

Text

Wanna Be Yours: Ch. 6

I.VI

Masterlist

Warning: rough sexual content, slapping, spanking, and all-around roughhousing.

Song(s): "Don’t Blame Me" by Taylor Swift

You throw your legs languidly over the chair in the corner of Hotch’s office. "I’ve already studied the material you gave me extensively." You rest your head against the arm of the chair, your eyes fluttering closed.

"If you don’t want the help we can stop these little sessions. That’s fine to settle for mediocrity. Truly, that’s your own mistake," Hotch huffs disapprovingly and you hear him stand up from his chair.

"I’m sorry. I’m just tired," You groan softly and force your eyes open, to see him leaning on the desk arms crossed against his chest as he looks over you. A small smile fights its way onto your face. He looks absolutely amazing today. He’s much more casual than usual. He has a green polo on and the top two unbuttons are undone just enough to let a little chest hair peek out. It’s got you all kinds of unfocused.

"There’s an exam in three days. You need to be prepared," Aaron raises a brow at you, waiting for you to sit up properly and pay attention.

"Isn’t it kind of unfair for you to help me study for an exam you’re writing?" You laugh a little under your breath, swinging your legs around to sit in the chair normally. You lean forward, resting your chin in the palm of your hand.

"I’m not giving you the exact exam questions. Just testing you on the material. Plus, I’ll throw in some questions about the extra stuff we’ve been discussing," Aaron nods and reaches across his desk for a notebook.

You let out another sigh and reach for your own notes. "God this is so boring." You pout.

Aaron raises a brow at your childish attitude and rolls his eyes, "You have something you’d rather do?"

"I have quite a few ideas." You grin and raise your eyebrows twice in jest. Aaron shakes his head at you, narrowing his eyes, "Fine. Fine!" You sigh frustratedly. You’re shocked he’s forcing you to study. Something about it is endearing, knowing that he does still care about your success in the class, not just purely driven by his sexual attraction to you. He holds out another sheet of information and you quickly scan the page, reading it at a pretty fast pace. "Yeah I already know all of this."

"You sure?" He countered, shoving his hands into his pockets, his thumbs hooked on the edges.

"Yes, Aaron, I’m sure," You hold the paper out to hand it back to him.

"How well do you know all of it? Is it practically ingrained in your brain? Can you recall it at a moment's notice? This is a timed exam after all." Hotch rattles off the interrogatory questions and you practically scoff at him.

"You have such little faith in my study habits it’s genuinely concerning. I’ve already made an extensive study guide, studied said study guide, and could take the exam today if I had to." You point out before leaning back in the chair again.

"How about we test your knowledge then?" He raises a brow crossing the room to stand directly in front of you. You crane your head back to be able to look at him. The way you’re positioned, you sitting, him standing, he towers over you, inevitably making his dominance over you more oppressive and obvious.

You scrunch your face up, feeling confused by his actions. "Stand up," He commands and gestures with his hand for you to move out of your chair. You stand up hesitantly but don’t move from your spot, unsure where he’s going with this. He sighs frustratedly and practically lifts you on your feet, moving you out of his way before sitting down in your spot.

You place your hands on your hips, frustrated with him, "Hotch, if you just wanted my seat you could’ve—" Before you can finish your sentence, however, Hotch grips you tightly, yanking you down, laying you across his lap. You let out a small screech in response, fearful you’re going to fall onto your face, but Hotch is quickly to catch you and hold you steady. "What are you—"

"Shut up," He groans out. He reaches forward, practically ripping off your blouse before rolling your skirt up to bunch at your hips. "I’m tired of the attitude today. You’re going to keep that wicked little mouth of yours shut until I tell you to open it, do I make myself clear?" Hotch’s large rough hand trails up your bare legs, before cupping one of your ass cheeks, rubbing and groping it.

You pause, unsure if you should verbally respond so you give a small nod. Hotch draws his hand back, smacking your ass, sending sharp stings of pain throughout your body. You yelp but sink your teeth into your lip, attempting to mute your sounds.

"I asked you a question," He growls out, rubbing over the spot he just smacked, both his hand and your skin warm from the contact. "Do I make myself clear?" He asks once more, placing heavy emphasis on each word and drawing out each syllable.

"Yes," You breathe out, attempting to catch your breath.

"Good girl," He uses his other hand to gather both your wrists, pinning them behind your back. "Corpus Delicti. Define it."

You furrow your brows, "What?"

Smack, smack. He doles out two insanely hard spanks to your ass and you cry out in response. "I asked you a question. Give me the answer," He growls, releasing your wrists so he can fist your hair in hand, "Define corpus delicti."

Your head is fuzzy from the pain and arousal as you squirm around, feeling his firm body below yours. "Corpus delicti," You pant slightly and struggle to find your words, "Also called body of a crime. It’s the principle that there must be facts or evidence that show the occurrence of a crime."

"Good," His hand runs lazily over both cheeks of your ass, his hand slightly cooler than your burning hot skin. He hooks his finger into your panties and pulls them down your legs. "The two components of corpus delicti?"

Just as you open your mouth to give an answer, Hotch thrusts two fingers into you at an achingly slow pace. His fingers are thick and fill you wholly and he curls them just right. "Oh fuck," You moan out, unable to contain your arousal.

He pauses for a moment and stills. "Don’t stop!" You whine impatiently. Just as the words leave your lips, you remember the question he asked you. "Wait, wait!" You cry out but Hotch brings his hand down harder than ever on your ass three times in rapid succession.

"Evidence that a crime has been committed and someone is criminally responsible for the act," You cry out, missing the feeling of his fingers inside of you, "That fucking hurts," You whine in pain, your head feeling fuzzy. You can barely think straight. Your bottom is on fire, your eyes sting with tears and you’re just aching for his touch again.

"You know what to say if you want me to stop," He tuts disapprovingly and the safe words you two have discussed race through your brain. You’re not going to say one. You’re in a whole world of pain but you’re most definitely enjoying, "Now if I recall, you’re not supposed to speak," He clamps a hand over your mouth, leaning his face in close to your ear, "Now be quiet. Otherwise, someone might hear you making all this unnecessary noise."

He’s taunting you. He raises his hand, spanking your ass, again, and again, and again. You’re not quite sure what spurred this on, but you’re assuming it has to do with the way you cursed at him. He finally lets up after another five spanks, your moans and cries muffled by his hand. At this point, your legs feel weak and you struggle to hold your head up. Tears stream down your cheeks freely.

"The principles of criminality?" Hotch runs his hand up your bare back, reaching for your bra clasp and undoing it to slide your bra off.

Your breathing is wildly erratic and just about everything you’ve ever learned seems to have disappeared from your memory. But out of fear of more smacks to your stinging cheeks, you rush to get the answer out, "Legality, actus reus, mens rea, fusion of actus reus and mens rea, harm, causation, and stipulation of punishment." You rattle off, letting out a small sigh of relief.

You feel his hand leave your skin and you squeeze your eyes tightly shut already anticipating the slap before you get it. He gives you two more electrifying spanks, "Ow!" You cry out, "What the fuck was that for?" You burrow your face into the arm of the chair and feel him chuckle softly beneath you. He keeps you pinned to his lap, pressing his erection hard into your stomach.

Hotch doesn’t reply simply pushing you up off his lap and back onto your knees. You sit back on your heels, squeezed in the small space between him and the arm of the chair. His hands go to his belt, undoing it and unzipping his slacks just enough to push his boxers down and free himself from his pants. He’s already hard, obviously aroused from the punishments he had been doling out to you. "Let’s put that mouth of yours to good use."

You bend down, taking almost all of him into your mouth. You wrap one hand around the base, pumping and stroking the remaining length that doesn’t fit in your mouth. You bring the other hand to cup and fondle his balls, eliciting a long, loud groan that rumbles deep in his throat. "That’s my good girl." He gathers up your hair in his hands, holding it out of your face.

You bob your head faster, picking up the pace as you run your tongue along the entirety of his cock. You pull all the way out to the tip before taking all of him back into your mouth again. His cock hits the back of your throat, causing you to choke out a gag, tears stinging your eyes again. You breathe through your nose as he tightens his grip on your hair. "Just like that… don’t stop. Take all of me, pretty girl."

Just as you feel him twitch in your mouth, beginning to buck his hips quite wildly, he pulls your head away.

"Why’d you stop I—" Hotch silences you with a passionate kiss, wrapping one hand around your neck to pull you closer, but not really tightening his grip in a way to cut off airflow. You moan into his mouth loudly and he guides you onto his lap.

You place your knees on either side of his hips, grinding against him. Your mouth focuses on meeting his, taking in every one of his moans. "Please, daddy," You whine, "I need you now." The name spurs him on and he lifts your hips just enough to push into you.

It’s a familiar feeling, but even now it still elicits a small gasp from your lips as you throw your head back in pleasure. This exposes the entire base of your neck to him, which he soon litters with small nips and kisses as he resists the urge to move you or thrust into you.

You squirm a little but he keeps your hips glued in place, "Please. Please I need more," You beg pathetically. You bring your eye line back down to look at him and he has that hungry, lustful glint in his eye that you love so much.

"What do you want me to do, pretty girl?" He mumbles against the skin of your neck and the vibrations of his deep voice send chills down your entire body. Your ass is on fire and every nerve ending feels electrified with his cock buried deep inside you like this.

"Please," Your begging intensifies and Hotch trails a hand between the two of you, rubbing your clit, increasing the pressure steadily, "Please, daddy, fuck me!" You need some form of friction, anything at all. He’s torturing you and you’re fucking sick of it. You’re hot and sweaty and horny and you need to finish.

"When are you going to learn?" He tsks softly and reaches up with his other hand to massage your breast, taking your nipple between his fingers. "You need to use your words." You whine impatiently.

"Please. I’m begging you," you tilt your head down and lean forward to kiss him quickly, nipping at his lips and aching to taste him. You let out a small cry in pleasure when he finally lifts your hips, just to slam you down onto him. He’s taking a rough pace with you. He’s wild and uncontrollable but you don’t even notice because your body feels so overstimulated. Between the pain in your bottom and the overwhelming pleasure, your head feels as if it's in a haze.

You’re on top of him, but he makes it evidently clear that he still has control, even in this position. His hands grip your hips with bruising strength and he thrusts his own hips up to meet yours with every bounce. He hits deep inside you and you cry out in pleasure, holding onto his shoulders tightly for balance.

Your skirt slides down from your hips a little, almost hiding the image of him thrusting up into you. You don’t last long, feeling the familiar pressure building between your hips, "Can I come? I want to come around you!" You cry out, "Fuck please daddy!" You struggle to get coherent words out, devolving into a series of incoherent curses and moans as Hotch continues to slam you down onto his cock.

"Go ahead," He mutters softly and leans in to kiss your cheek and down under your jaw, "You’ve been a good girl you deserve it," He speaks close to your ear and the feeling of his hot breath fanning across your face sends a small shiver through you as your eyes roll back into your head. You come hard around his cock, chanting his name and letting out loud, strangled cries of pleasure.

You can barely hold yourself up and you burrow your head into his neck as Hotch continues to fuck you through your orgasm, his pace unrelenting. You feel your legs trembling as Hotch’s pace grows erratic, his panting turning into guttural deep groans. "That’s it, daddy," You purr, nipping at his earlobe.

"Fuck!" Hotch cries out and thrusts into a few times before coming to a shuddering halt and throwing his head back onto the chair, breathing heavily.

You both stay there for a while, attempting to catch your breath and to get the strength to stand up. Hotch soon lifts you up, placing you back on your feet. He stands up soon after, tucking himself back into his pants and reaching for his belt. He walks back around to his desk. You both exist in silence, moving about the room, cleaning yourselves up. You bend down for your bra and blouse that Hotch so carelessly discarded.

"Come over to my place tonight." Hotch’s voice cuts through the silence as you are getting dressed. Your head shoots up to look at him and he can read the confusion that coats your face. He glances away from your line of sight and back at his desk. He busies his hands with some papers on the desk.

You pull your blouse on, attempting to button it before realizing a few buttons are missing. "Isn’t that a little… different for us?" You attempt to decode Hotch’s mannerisms but he keeps his focus down on the materials on the desk.

"I’m tired of hiding out in this stuffy office," He shakes his head, "Plus there’s only so many surfaces I can put you on here." He glances up at you, that mischievous smirk plastered across his face. "My apartment has a working AC system, food, drinks, and most importantly, a very large, very comfortable bed."

You hesitate, not sure how to respond. You want to go over to his place. It sounds nice but you have a sinking feeling you’re growing just a little too attached to your law professor.

"Well, I won’t be over until late tonight." You respond as Hotch picks up your bag from the floor, holding it out for you. You reach to pull it onto your shoulder. You glance up to see Hotch’s quizzical look, "I promised Charlie I would help him study. For your exam actually." You laugh softly and see Hotch’s face fall into a frown.

"Charlie Miller?" He clarifies and you nod.

"Yeah," You breathe out, attempting to right your clothing and smooth out your hair, "Something wrong?"

"He’s… just not someone I would picture you wasting your time with," Hotch crosses his arms against his chest, eyes focused down at you. You want to quickly dismiss his judgment, attributing it to Charlie’s lack of work ethic but you sense something else in his tone. Is that… jealousy?

You smirk widely, "Oh really? Are you sure that’s what’s bothering you?"

"What are you insinuating?" He tilts his head to the side, raising his brows, his voice flat and unimpressed.

"Oh I’m not insinuating anything, professor," You drawl out the title and grin at him cheekily.

He grips the front of your blouse, pulling you close to him, "Watch the attitude. Unless you want me to show you what real punishment is like tonight." He reaches down to grab and grope at your ass, eliciting a small hiss in pain.

You stay like that for a minute, your chest pressed against his, his hands roaming your body once more. He lets out a strained breath before letting you go, "Call me if you’re going to come over."

You nod, "Bye Aaron," You smile before turning to close his office door.

———

"I’m serious, Charlie, we have to focus," You laugh as he places a beer in front of you on your kitchen table.

"One beer is not going to kill your focus, kid genius," He rolls his eyes cracking open each of the bottles, "Besides, I’m the one who needs help with studying."

You grin and pull the beer out of his hands, "Fine. Then you get this back when we’re done."

"What? Are you punishing me?" He places a hand over his chest feigning shock and hurt.

You roll your eyes, reaching over to nudge his shoulder playfully, "Let’s just get started" You notice that Charlie has scooted his chair a little closer to yours, his thigh pressing firmly against yours. He brings his hands down to rest on his lap, his fingers brushing gently against your leg. The small contact doesn’t make you uncomfortable. It just doesn’t send sparks through your entire body the way Hotch’s hands do. You clear your throat, feeling your face flush. Your bottom is still wildly uncomfortable sitting here on the hard wooden chairs in your apartment.

"Outline the principles of criminality." You turn on a small smile. As Charlie starts to rattle off his answers, your mind wanders back to your study session with Hotch from earlier. Your ass is still stinging wildly. Your mind is still sort of foggy and you’re fucking exhausted. The aching between your thighs hasn’t ceased and you’re sure it won’t be going away any time soon if you decide to go over to Hotch’s tonight.

"Was that correct?" Charlie’s question startles you out of your thoughts. "Hey… y/n, you okay?" He places a hand on your shoulder.

You glance back at Charlie, realizing you’ve entirely missed what he said, "Uh yeah… let’s just move on. "Ex post facto?"

"After the deed or after the fact." He recites before giving a large grin, "So how am I doing, Einstein? Living up to your expectations?"

"You just might exceed them, Miller," You taunt but you can’t seem to get into the natural teasing rhythm with him. You can’t stop thinking about Hotch. You force your eyes back to Charlie, who seems to return the same level of unwavering eye contact.

Yes, it’s amazing when you’re with him. You’re never unsatisfied. The passion between you and your professor is unmatched. You can’t keep your hands off of him. But when you leave you can’t help but let your mind wander. Every interaction feels so static. Like your relationship is simply an exchange of services and it leaves you feeling used. Like you’re unimportant and worthless. Yet at the same time, he manages to make you feel seen. Hotch simultaneously sees the greatness in you, he acknowledges the potential and the intelligence you hold, while also treating you like every other man in power treats women. He sees you the way you want to be seen while reducing you to just your looks. You wonder if Hotch grows bored of you… what is to become of this arrangement? Do you lose the respect of your professor as soon as he no longer wants to sleep with you?

That’s when your mind stumbles over a thought you had never considered until right now: Are you the only one? He seems so comfortable with the dynamics of a student/professor affair. Are there other students he’s showering with praise before burrowing his head between their thighs?

"Y/n? Are you okay? You seem so distracted and lost today." Charlie’s voice is soft and warm.

"Yeah," You have to break his eye contact, unable to look at his features any longer, glancing down at your hands. His whole presence is the exact opposite of Hotch. Hotch is rough and blunt. His eyes are warm, the most beautiful light brown tone, contrasting with his jet black hair and warm skin tone. Hotch’s touch is rough, needy. His voice is gruff, abrasive. Charlie’s voice is smooth and velvety. Every touch from him is gentle, inviting. His skin is pale and his eyes are a bright blue. Hotch is a man and Charlie is… well Charlie is practically a boy. Still older than you, but immaturity and inexperience run rampant through him.

His hand reaches under your chin, tilting your face up to look at him. He doesn’t speak, his eyes just searching yours. And suddenly you’re kissing him.

His hands are warm on your cheeks. He pulls you close, your hands resting on his bare chest, easily accessible because the top buttons of his shirt are open. His mouth is soft and warm against yours. One hand comes to the back of your neck, the other trailing down to your back. He pushes your back, your body arching against him.

Soft slow kisses turn into more rapid, needy ones. Your hands explore his body and you notice just how different he is from Hotch. His skin is smooth and heavily muscled. He pulls you closer, attempting to remove any distance that remains between your bodies. You don’t have time to think, he just lets your hands explore his torso. His hands move steadily down, resting on your bare thighs before sliding just under the hem of your skirt.

Your fingers work at the buttons on his shirt and his large hands rest on your hips under your skirt. In a second, he pulls you as close as possible, settling you onto his lap. You let out a soft moan in response. And Charlie lets out a low chuckle that vibrates through your entire body. That’s enough for you to pause and think for a second.

What are you doing? What the actual fuck are you doing?

You freeze, stopping the kiss to pull away. You look over Charlie’s flushed features, his eyes alight with lust and his lips plump and swollen from your kiss.

"I’m sorry. I can’t," You start to speak and get off of his lap, taking a few steps away. You’re struggling to catch your breath and you haphazardly grab your belongings.

Charlie grabs your hand lightly, "Wait, wait where are you going?"

"I’m sorry I shouldn’t have done that," You shake your hand, yanking your hand from his grip. "I shouldn’t have…"

"Did I do something wrong?" Charlie scrunches up his brows confused.

"No! No," You reassure him, maybe just a little too forcefully, "I just… I really have to go." And with that you’re practically running out the door, running out of your own apartment just to clear your mind and get some air.

As soon as you step outside, your first thoughts are of Hotch. You’re not dating him, nothing is solid, there’s no exclusivity. He could be sleeping with a million other students for all you know, but for some reason, you feel dirty. You feel guilty. You can’t possibly comprehend why you feel like this. There are hardly any real moments of connection between you and Hotch. You enjoy each other’s company but it’s not as if you would ever spend time together without having sex. That would make what you and Hotch have too real. And it’s not. It’s just sex, no promises, no commitments. Just pure, animalistic acts of passion.

You think about Charlie. You’ve led him on. You let out a frustrated groan, walking down the block from your apartment. The weather is getting colder every day and you shiver slightly. As your feet scrape against the pavement you think about the other night when Hotch walked you home and you feel the guilt growing inside of you. Maybe there is some connection between the two of you. Or maybe that’s entirely one-sided.

Either way, whatever just happened with Charlie was incredibly wrong and should never have happened no matter how good it felt or how nice and kind he is to you. You have this thing with Hotch. Whatever the thing is, all you know is that you can’t think of anyone other than Hotch, even as Charlie’s hands gripped and massaged your skin. Your heart is pounding and your breathing is tremulous. It's getting so cold that you can see your breath hang in the air.

You dig into your bag for your phone. You flip it open and dial the number. "Aaron? I’m on my way over now."

Chapter 7: I.VII →

#aaron hotchner fanfiction #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x y/n #aaron hotchner #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds #wanna be yours fanfic #hotch #hotchner #hotch x reader

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an-annyeoing-writer · 4 years ago

Text

Chanyeol x Reader: a day from humble slave’s life. [+18]

Word count: ~5k

Warnings: s*xual themes, slavery, objectification, minor fat shaming. Please, don’t mistake this with non-con, for it’s not, but if you feel like an impression may trigger you too, simply don’t read it.

This is a fantasy. As much as I tried to portray Chanyeol’s personality accordingly, it has little to do with how I see him as a person, and - especially - with who he really is. Nonetheless, this is NOT meant to insult anyone.

The story was originally a birthday gift for my friend, and therefore, Reader’s age is specified and it’s also mentioned to be her birthday - forgive me that ^_^

7 A.M.

Even before your eyes open, the first streak of consciousness is how you welcome the world.

It’s not going to be a good morning, you think at first; your eyes are sticky as soon as you try to pry them open, your muscles ache, your hair is a mess. How disgraceful, you think. You can’t show yourself to the world like this. Thank God for the attached bathroom.

Look pretty, you were once told, that’s all you can do well.

The words, back then, didn’t sound half as appreciative as you considered them now. But with time, they became a motto, a goal, a purpose. They did say that you’re not good for anything else, but they also said you’re good at this one thing.

Look pretty for the one who deserves it. Whatever your Owner shall want to do with your body, you shall obey.

And if He doesn’t say anything, if He doesn’t even look at you, living His life as if you didn’t exist, then the least you can do is be pretty as to not offend Him: you owe Him your best quality, after all.

The shower is over, the make-up done, the clothes, selected carefully, wrapped around your silhouette as to expose what’s the best in it. The corset is so tight it hurts. But it’s worth it if that’s what He wants.

Off to eat a breakfast. The corset’s gonna get even worse after you eat, but that’s also the price you agree to pay. Eat, to stay healthy: not stuff yourself, not pleasure yourself with sweets. Eat to stay healthy and not cause Him any problems, so that your body stays in the best shape. He expects no less.

He’s there, you realize with surprise. He doesn’t stay around too often and usually doesn’t eat the breakfast at home. But He’s there, sitting in the dining room. Someone is serving Him a breakfast: one of many others, men and women, that He owns. They’re useful, you think. They can cook, they can keep the house clean.

All you can do, is to look pretty.

So you bow deeply as soon as you see Him, and when His gaze finally meets yours, you kneel on the floor next to the door, eyes on the ground as to not annoy Him, letting Him enjoy the sight of what He owns. It probably looks weird, you think, a woman kneeling on the floor with other people around, not an intimate situation at all – she’s not His lover, after all, just a property.

You don’t know if He looks at you, but your posture is perfect as if He did.

When He stands up and goes to the door, you dare not to look up.

When He’s right next to you, His fingers find your lips and put a small chocolate on your tongue, a token of approval; the chocolate is so, so good that you melt in its taste, and you take as much of it as you can, playing with it in your mouth long after He leaves without a word.

10 A.M.

Everyone knows, more or less, what’s His job: the exact crimes remain unknown, though, and His secrets stay safe: no one in the house would ever dare to spread them around. And it’s not like it’d be easy to do, either – only some of you are allowed to leave the house in the first place, and you’re not one of these. There’s no reason for you to leave, anyway, since everything you’d need: cosmetics, clothes – there’s nothing more you’d need, right? – other people only give you, and you’re given the exact things that suit His taste, no room for you to do wrong. There’s no reason to give Him surprises, either: you’re like a product, a window’s curtains that are changed to their owner’s liking, not picked randomly in a shop, but chosen by what he likes and what suits the rest of the house.

Your dress now is made of the same purple fabric as sofas in the living room when you’re called over and enter the spacious room with huge windows; a few familiar faces sit in various places all around – not your friends by any means, but people you just saw here before.

“Are you, for real?” one of them says. Your Owner laughs in response.

“See for yourself, Xing” He answers and motions you over.

A small movement of His fingers, a signal you’ve been taught long ago.

On your knees, it says, and you instantly catch the cue, a bit nervous at first, glancing at the stranger’s face just to make sure he’s alright with it: out of pure politeness, because you know that even if he didn’t like it, you’d still do it – it’s not him you’re here to obey, after all.

You don’t ask questions as you unzip his jeans, all the modesty gone as your lips wrap around his cock, as casually as it’d be to hand him a glass of water, no objections: you’re so good, so obedient.

You glance to your side with your eyes slightly blurry from tears. You see an amused, but content smile on your Owner’s face and that’s all the motivation you need to grow bolder, to suck harder. Your throat is not so good just yet, it still needs to get better, you realize, and you choke yourself on the man’s length, punishing yourself for not being good enough. It amuses them. You feel their eyes on you, a quiet sound of someone taking a photo, tears run down your face, your makeup smudged, your hair messy from where the man grabbed it, holding onto it as he set a righter pace for you to follow.

When he cums, you hold still. You swallow what you’re given.

“Thank you, sir” you say in a rough voice, your throat strained. The man smiles at you kindly, and you can’t help but smile back.

You know better than to ignore your Owner any longer though, and you turn to face Him, still on your knees of course, eyes on His shoes.

“Look at me” He instructs. You obey.

He stares at you with a smirk.

“Feels good, doesn’t it?”

“Yes, sir” you reply honestly.

“You can go. Don’t interrupt us.”

Your duty is fulfilled. It feels so good to be useful.

1 P.M.

You’ve been sitting in your bathtub for what feels like hours, but it’s okay, it feels good, the water stays warm, your bathroom is so luxurious you can’t help but savor every minute of having access to it: not owning it, of course, but it’s nice nonetheless.

Everything in this room belongs to Him: the tub with heating system, the thick walls, the expensive cosmetics and the softest towels, and, of course, you.

How much do you love to be owned? He asked you once: do you like where you are, what you are?

Yes, sir.

Don’t you just say that to please me?

I mean it, sir.

Do you, really? Come here, then. Show me how grateful you are. Let your mouth convince me, but not with words.

It felt intimate, to be allowed so close to the one you looked up to. Being allowed to please Him was a blessing, and you wished you’d do it more often, but never dared to ask: you’re too low to demand His attention, so even if He was to say no, it’d be a waste of His precious time to consider your plea in the first place.

So instead, you savored every moment He allowed you, as much as you savored the memory of His small groans, the way He relaxed under your fingers, leaning back in His armchair and not even looking at you, but clearly enjoying this little paradise His humble slave served Him. Oh, how well He trained you, you know just what to do to make Him feel good. He deserves the best of you for He’s the one who gave it to you in the first place.

The memory sends a pleasant tingling down to your core and your fingers instinctively reach down, willing to relieve yourself.

But you stop yourself halfway.

You’re not meant for receiving pleasure, stupid, you remind yourself. There’s a smile on your lips at the thought. You’re good, you won’t do this, it’s not something He’d enjoy knowing of, and therefore there’s no reason to do it.

You choose to stay desperate and you’re proud of this choice.

There’s knocking on your room’s door.

“[F/n]? You’ve been sitting there for ages. Come out, I have something for you!”

“Ah, five minutes!” you call back.

“I’ll wait, then!”

You choose to rest just a little bit longer. She can wait, you decide. The water is just too warm.

1:30 P.M.

“Seriously, I thought you died in there” are the first words you hear upon leaving the bathroom. Your friend seems annoyed and it’s, truthfully, justified. But then her face brightens up. “Ah, look, I’ve got something good!”

She has boxes with various types of food sprawled over your bed, variety of tastes, mostly healthy, but some sweets as well, and these are mainly things you haven’t tasted in ages since you didn’t really consider yourself worthy of such luxury.

But then, you haven’t seen her lately, you missed her: she always brings something good to share, either be it food or jewelry you can wear for some time before returning it. These are little breaks in your routine, small pieces of something different than you usually experience. It’s good to recall how usual, human life looks like, even if you’re back to your own usual self soon later.

You notice a new, leather collar wrapped around her neck. You feel like you’d look good in one if you had it, too. Your Owner just never thought of idea as such, but who knows, maybe He’ll see her and decide it’s a good one? You can always hope for it.

“What’s that?” you ask, picking a random box. It smells good, sea-like.

“I have completely no idea, but it tastes good” she replies, stuffing her face with some vegetables she holds with sticks. You learned already that as much as she likes food, she never uses her brain to memorize any dish names. It’s not like she has too much brain to begin with, so who cares, anyway. She’s not a cook, but a slave like you, a different kind, but just as devoted and happy with her place. “Ah, try this.” She fetches some sort of candy and puts it by your lips, reminding you briefly of what happened this morning. You take the candy, it melts in your mouth almost instantly.

A few seconds later, her lips are on yours instead, and you taste the pepper with cinnamon she just ate; it’s a strange connection, but it tastes good, and, somehow, it suits the candy’s flavor still present on your tongue.

You feel stiff at first, but quickly melt into the sensation. You weren’t caressed like this in ages, your mouth has only one purpose on daily basis; it feels nice. Her hand is soon on your breast, squeezing it through the thin fabric of your silk bathrobe. She doesn’t wait long before pushing the fabric off you, your fresh and clean body, exposed to the air, getting still hotter with every passing second.

The door creaks and you two finally part; your eyes are on the man that stands in the door frame, his eyebrows raised at your friend as she lets out an awkward laugh.

He rolls his eyes, only half-amused with what he just saw.

“We’re going home” he says sternly. Then, without bidding you a good-bye, she gets off the bed and runs to him, and soon, you’re left alone. You didn’t even notice that your robe was off all this time.

But at least you get to keep the food, right?

5 P.M.

“Why aren’t you eating?”

He doesn’t invite you over for dinner often, so you try to enjoy it as much as possible. Yet, your stomach is still full – it wasn’t a wise choice to eat that much at once. You feel like you will blow up if you eat a gram more of the pork in front of you.

“I’m sorry, I’m not hungry, I ate earlier” you explain yourself. It’s not a reply that satisfies Him, but He doesn’t pry, and you hope that He will just brush it off.

“Eat.”

You don’t object, you know you can’t. Your stomach is so full you want to throw up. You take a bit of the pork and slowly munch on the meat, hoping that it’ll become more bearable with time. You don’t want to stretch your stomach like this, you’ll feel hungry more often, and what will He say if you gain weight?

You have to endure.

“What did you eat?” He asks.

“Quinoa with vegetables, fish, oats with milk, candy” you answer truthfully. There were some other funny combinations that you consumed, but you decide these are the essentials.

“Hmm, that sounds like a lot. What if you get fat?” He asks calmly.

“I, uh… I don’t think it’s possible if it’s just one time” you try to state so as humbly as possible, but you feel like no matter what you said, it wouldn’t sound good. Maybe you should have apologized instead? Asked Him to be merciful?

“Are you trying to argue with me?”

“No, sir” you answer instantly, your face showing fear at the thought; you wouldn’t dare, no, never. He seems to see it, the way you shiver at the accusation, and He smiles. You’re relieved. You know that He may punish you, that He may use it as opportunity to give you pain, and even tell you that you deserve it – to not feel bad about doing it to you. However, knowing that it’ll give Him satisfaction, that He won’t do it because He’s authentically mad at you, but just wants to play with His toy, is what makes you happy and excited for what’s to come.

For now, at least.

“I thought so” He just says and goes back to His meal.

Just as He told you to, you continue to eat your portion, trying to stuff yourself as much as possible, knowing that your stomach will hurt even more, and thanking God for not wearing the corset any longer.

“On your knees” He suddenly says when you’re almost done. You don’t object, you do as you’re told. “Crawl there” He motions you to sit nearby, not too close to him, off the rug and on the cold panels, hard under your knees.

He leans chin on His hand, watching you, almost bored.

“Make yourself vomit.”

You swallow your saliva nervously and glance up at Him, hoping that He’s just joking, testing your reactions. His face doesn’t change though, and, as you hesitate, His eyebrows raise in doubt. Will you do it? Will you humiliate yourself as a punishment? Will you ruin yourself once again, not through sex, but through being genuinely disgusting in front of Him?

Will He even like it? How could He enjoy such sight? Won’t He feel sick, since He barely just ate? Is it really what He wants?

“What are you waiting for? Did you not understand me? Or should I go over there and push my own fingers down your throat? That’d be so gross. You don’t want me to dirty my hands, do you?”

You quickly shake your head. Of course, no, He doesn’t need to do something that disgusting. You’ll do it, you can do it.

You push your fingers into your throat until you feel the food go back, and you close your eyes tightly, throwing up all over the floor, sensing it dirty your legs, but refusing to look at it. It feels disgusting, painful, the acidic sensation in your mouth making you want to throw up again.

“Look at me.”

You obey. Your face is still twisted in disgust and He watches you, almost unmoved with the scene that just unfolded.

“Gross. Wash the floor, and yourself. Can’t keep it clean today, can you?” He snorts. “I’m not hungry anymore” He announces suddenly, then stands up and exits the room, leaving you on your knees among your own vomit, allowing you to dwell on your pathetic, miserable self.

You sit there, breathing heavily for what feels like an hour at least.

Then you stand up, still dirty, and still disgusting, probably stinking, too.

And for some reason, it feels good, because you just did what He told you to, and there’s nothing more fulfilling than listening to your Owner’s commands, no matter how destructive and unpleasant would they be, and how unwanted and unattractive they would make you seem.

8 P.M.

You lie in your bed, exhausted. Your skin feels dry from all the washing today, especially since you spent so long in the tub earlier. You have your thin robe back on, and your eyes are getting sticky from how tired you are, so you close them and let your body relax. That’s so good, that’s so comfortable.

You don’t know how long you lie there, drifting off despite the early hour, before something rouses you out of the blissful state. You open your eyes and look around: the room is empty, lamps still off, but some of the street light entering through the windows allows you to see the surroundings rather clearly, especially since your eyes already accustomed with the darkness.

And said surroundings are quiet and empty, but your instinct tells you that you should get up just because, and you choose to listen to it: you’re not that tired anymore, you got a bit of rest and this day is far from over.

You stand up and turn on the lamp on your bedside table, its soft light brightening up the whole room, although not too intensely.

The door suddenly opens and a woman speaks to you from the corridor.

“Master wants to see you. Go to his room. Hurry.”

With that, she leaves, and you’re dumbstruck for a few seconds. You quickly realize your mistake: it’s not the time for you to be slow or hesitate. Whatever He wants, you’re here to deliver. It surprises you, though, He never makes requests like such. You wish to know if you should change into something more elegant, more suitable, just in case He’s not alone – the bathing robe exposes a bit too much and you’re worried that He wouldn’t appreciate it right now. Yes, more precise instructions would be appreciated.

But with what you’ve got, all you know is that you should hurry. You don’t take nor change anything, then, only making sure your hair looks presentable – the makeup is already gone, but it will have to stay this way – you fix the belt of your robe, too, not wanting it to slip by accident since you have nothing underneath.

You get up and go. You know where to go, although His room and yours are a few corridors apart – the mansion is big and you need to pass through all the most important places to get there, including the door to one of the living rooms and other servants’ bedrooms.

You knock on the door after a short hesitation: not too quiet, not too loud – it’s hard to measure, you rarely ever knock on any door, not to mention the door to His very bedroom.

“Come in.”

You open the door.

The bedroom is not that much larger than yours, but it seems more personal – there are souvenirs, ornaments, belongings that you don’t get to own, things that prove He owns this place.

And then He’s there: in sweatpants and nothing else, droplets of water randomly running down His back where He didn’t dry them with a towel, or where they slipped from His wet hair. You don’t get to enjoy the sight for long though, because He grabs a shirt and pulls it over His head, and you lower your gaze, realizing that staring probably wouldn’t be approved.

“Bend over the table” He instructs, still not looking at you. He walks around the room and enters the attached bathroom, doing all these small evening things: skincare routine, perfumes that seem to help Him sleep and so on. You stand where you were told to, trying to stop yourself from peeking curiously; it takes Him a few minutes of completely ignoring your presence before He finally sighs and turns to you.

He stands behind you, out of your sight. There’s a silence for a few moments before He suddenly pulls on your robe and throws its lower part over your upper back, exposing your behind. His hand pushes on your shoulder, forcing you lower, pressing you against the table’s surface. You don’t flinch.

“Spread your ass” He says, and you obediently move your hands to your cheeks; it feels awkward at first, the air hitting your most private parts, although you know already, there’s no private, and all of you belongs to Him only, all of you is for Him to see, judge and use. “More.”

It almost hurts and you wish you knew what exactly He sees back there; but you don’t. He doesn’t touch you, and a part of you wishes He did – you crave His touch, but you’re aware of your place, you learned to act accordingly.

You jump slightly when He unceremoniously pries your pussy open with His fingers, your hands tremble slightly – it feels so good, His fingers feel so good you could come just from feeling them on you, no matter where, really.

“I heard it’s your birthday today” He says suddenly. His two fingers dive into you and you struggle to keep your composure; your thoughts fly away before you manage to form them into an answer. He pulls His fingers out, spreading your apparent wetness all over your folds. “Is it true?” The touch disappears for a moment and you finally get a chance to breathe.

“Y-yes, sir” you force out.

“I see.”

His fingers are back there, rubbing you slowly a few times, as if checking for any deformations – of course there are none, but He checks nonetheless.

“What’s your age now?” He asks. You wonder if He really doesn’t know, it’s not like He has a reason to care.

“T-twenty one” you mumble in a strained voice.

“Twenty one. In centimeters, that’s how high heels you can only wear from tomorrow on, understood?”

“Y… Yes, sir.”

His hand must be stained with natural lubricant, you realize, as He moves it higher, smoothly pushing one finger into your ass. It’s a miracle you manage to stay still. He doesn’t dwell much on that place though; instead, He pulls out and neatly puts the robe back into place.

“Up and face me.”

Sometimes, you wish to be roughed up – to have your hair pulled roughly, to be manhandled. But He never does that. You know your place. His word is enough to make you do whatever He wants, so why be rough? He’d get unnecessarily tired, and you’re not worth of His sweat, are you?

You stand in front of Him, eyes down, His breath on top of your head, you almost feel His body warmth – you didn’t notice He’s so close, but He is, if you just reached out…

He doesn’t hesitate before pushing the robe open, exposing your front. His hand wraps around one of your breasts, squeezing it so hard and so suddenly you almost scream, your knees trembling. You force yourself to stand straight, but God, does it hurt. He pinches your nipple, no gentler, but at least doesn’t keep it for so long. He does the same on the other side, and you swear you’ll have them all purple tomorrow, and it lasted less than a minute. They hurt so much.

As soon as He loses interest in your breasts, you wrap your arms around your chest, trying to soothe it. His hand moves to your chin instead, forcing it up.

“Open” is all He says and you obey. “Wider.” You try to, but it’s not enough. Pushing fingers into your mouth, He pushes your jaws even further, to the point it hurts and you feel like it will soon break. But you don’t object. He pulls on your tongue – it’s hard not to pull back. You gag as He pushes His fingers deep, but – thank God – takes them out before you can repeat your act from earlier.

You pant when He finally retreats and the contact breaks.

“When was the last time you came?” He asks as soon as He decides you’re in the state to provide an answer.

“T… three weeks ago, sir” you mumble.

“That’s not too long ago, is it?”

“Not too long…” You whimper slightly, confirming.

He doesn’t really hold you accountable of this on usual – only when He, for some reason, feels like making you a bit more desperate, a bit more pathetic. But it’s not something that happens often. On most days, He doesn’t even care for your presence, so even if He – or anyone else He approved of – decided, on rare occasions, to use your pussy for a change, He couldn’t care less if you came, as long as you didn’t make His own experience any worse.

But then sometimes, just sometimes, He wanted to see you struggle.

“What’s the longest you went for?”

“A-a month, sir…”

“Well then, what about we make it two?”

You gulp.

“If you wish so, sir…”

“But that’s starting from tomorrow. You will come today.”

Your eyes snap up at Him as He turns around and sits back on His bed, crossing His legs leisurely. You don’t dare to move from your spot – a good choice.

“Kneel down and touch yourself. Leave the robe on, but don’t cover yourself.”

He watches you with a small smirk as you get down. Your pussy is already exposed; you spread your legs as far as you can and lean slightly forward on one hand, the other finding the most aching spots.

Your Owner watches as you start to rub yourself – and you’re shook about how little it takes for you to find yourself on edge.

“Stop.”

You press your lips together, holding back a whine that tries to push through your lips. It hurts, you wish you could just make yourself come, you’re so needy, so starved for it, it’s been so long…

“Give me your robe.”

You don’t ask. You take the fabric off, fold it neatly and stand up, head low, reaching out with your both hands. The man takes it without care, throwing it onto the floor, far from you.

“Go to your room now.”

“Yes, sir…”

You glance briefly at the clock on the wall – it’s almost nine. And you only wonder, how many people will you pass by, going through the cold corridors, with your pussy leaking and your breasts slowly turning blue.

11:49 P.M.

You’re asleep when the door opens again – the sound waking you up slowly, your sleepy movements incoherent as you try to turn the light on. You stop though, as, in the darkness slowly dissolving in front of your eyes, you recognize the silhouette that just welcomed you. Your hazy mind doesn’t proceed it fully though, yet, and you don’t know, what would be the right way to react – stand up? Kneel down? Out of no cue, you stay where you are, watching with wide eyes as the man approaches your bed and sits on the mattress.

His hand finds the edge of your sheets and pulls them away from your naked frame – you often slept naked, and now that he rid you off your usual evening attire, it feels like an even righter thing to do.

“S… sir…?”

“Don’t move. Don’t talk.”

You stay in your place, your eyes following every movement, and when his hand cups your sex, your breath hitches and you struggle to stay still – of course you struggle; you want to grind down, to prove how needy you are, like a bitch in heat.

But he said, don’t move. So you don’t.

He spreads your legs a bit and teases you, stretching your entrance a little just for the sake of his entertainment, like most of the things he does to you, anyway. But then he suddenly stops and starts to gently rub your clit. You press your lips together. It feels so good, so hot, you wish you could moan, scream for him.

But he said, don’t talk. So you don’t.

His other hand is soon on your hair and he pulls you up, not too gently, but not unnecessarily roughly either. His face is so close, his eyes boring into yours. What did you ever do, to deserve a proximity like this? To deserve that much attention? To deserve his hand pleasing you so well, so good?

Nothing, is the answer. You’re not worthy of it, yet he gives it to you: how generous of him, isn’t it? To be touching the filthy animal you are. He’s so good. He feels so good, and you struggle even more, trying to keep yourself together and hold back for the sake of feeling it just a little longer.

“You may come, if you want.”

“Sh… should I?”

He smirks.

“Do you want to?”

You hesitate, a second too long.

His hand disappears and you’re left panting, writhing, squeezing your legs together for friction, but feeling as though nothing can satiate you as well as his fingers did, and you finally let out a cry. How vulnerable.

When you come back to your senses, you feel his eyes on you and quickly return the gaze – you don’t want him to think you’re ignoring him, never. You may have lost your mind for a few moments, but it’s back there – figuratively, for you’re just a dumb whore, there’s no much mind left in you.

“I told you, that you will come today, but you didn’t listen.” You quickly glance at the clock – it’s 00:02. Oh, God. Oh, no. “And now that your birthday is over, I don’t need to hold back, do I?”

You want to say that he shouldn’t hold back regardless of the day, but you soon realize it probably wouldn’t be in your best favor.

And that he doesn’t really need your approval.

Please, reblog if you enjoyed!

#chanyeol smut #chanyeol x reader #chanyeol imagine #dom chanyeol #park chanyeol #exo chanyeol #exo smut #exo imagine #exo x reader #zhang yixing #vg: chanyeol #vg: fanfiction #vg: exo

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ectonurites · 4 years ago

Note

for the character headcannons ask game, jason and cass?

ALRIGHT ALRIGHT im putting this one under a cut because it got SUPER long bc i cant shut up ever

lets start w jason

A (realistic headcanon):

ok using the ‘realistic’ category here loosely but GOD i love the idea of Damian & Jason having interacted while Jason was staying with the League before getting dunked in the Lazarus Pit. like. this obviously would need to be set more in preboot and following the Lost Days & Batman Annual 25 version of Jason’s resurrection, but god the idea of it just makes me scream in a good way. Like... these are things Jason likely doesn’t remember very clearly once he’s brought back to life more fully by the pit because he was uh pretty catatonic, but Damian being a little kid and knowing about the boy that his mother keeps around the base, that she’s trying to help bring back to health. Damian not even knowing that’s his big brother, just that he’s a presence that shares his mother’s attention. Jason again being unresponsive but like, ok god you know that part of lost days where Talia shows the others observing him that he only fights back at those he perceives as genuine threats trying to hurt him,

Because Jason can perceive that she’s safe, she’s not actually trying to hurt him, he trusts her because she saved him? thinking about lil child Damian who is ya know already being trained in fighting stuff and like the idea of him trying to provoke Jason just to see what happens but Jason not fighting back because on some level be it his connection to Talia or even little baby Damian visually reminding him of Bruce, he knows that Damian is safe too 🥺

and then when Jason and Damian meet again in Gotham as Red Hood & Robin respectively, Jason not really remembering because there was so much going on back then for him, but Damian realizing that oh... that was Him

B (hilarious):

alright so if we are looking at comics currently, in modern stuff jason is what, like 22? hes old enough to drink in the US but still definitely early 20s so around my around my age, thats what im using as a basis here. if we adjust timeline and still consider his death having happened when he was 15, that puts it around 2013. and then coming back to like interacting with people about three years later if we still kinda base things off of the preboot timeframe (since we never got a super solid retelling of the timeline of death -> resurrection -> training -> tries to get revenge aside from knowing he went to the all-caste instead of the lost days version of the story) making him reenter the regular world and stuff around age 18 in 2016. meaning a solid three years of pop culture that he was entirely missing, and like im sorry but he really doesn’t strike me as the type to bother looking into what he missed, he’s kinda busy focusing on other stuff. lets take a quick look at some major things from those years. 2013 gave us ‘what does the fox say’ and ‘the harlem shake’ . 2014 had that time U2 just put a fuckin album on everyone’s phones, The Fault In Our Stars movie came out. 2015 introduced the phrase ‘Netflix and Chill’ and the whole blue & black vs gold & white dress debate happened. imagine any of the other batkids (or even arguably roy during rhato stuff) bringing these things up and jason’s ensuing confusion. thank you for your time

C (heart-crushing):

so. there are two specific instances from rebirth era Jason i want to bring up here and much like a lot of these it’s less a headcanon and more of an inference based on observations, but i wanna take a sec to discuss Jason’s relationship with other people’s death. early in rebirth, Tim ‘dies’ from that whole thing in detective comics. he didn’t actually die, we as readers know, but in-universe they all very much so thought he was dead. frustratingly a lot of the batfam wasn’t really shown mourning him aside from in the Detective Comics Rebirth title itself (which just. when a major character dies even if its temporary- that should have a ripple effect) BUT an exception to that is in RHATO 2016, where we get this offhanded comment in Jason’s internal monologuing

similarly later when Roy, who like, had an incredibly close relationship w Jason that had just gotten mended before Heroes in Crisis, gets fuckin murdered in that whole thing... Jason doesn’t go to his funeral either. He leaves a dramatic voice mail and then visits the grave on his own later, choosing to instead keep working on the mission they’d started rather than going and taking the time to mourn properly.

Jason’s relationship with death is incredibly complicated, obviously. He has died, he has come back, and he now is willing to cross the line most other bats won’t and will kill people when he deems it necessary. I think thats something important though- he doesn’t just like... go around killing for fun (usually, some writers preboot made him a little murder happy but even then usually this still was vaguely followed) he kills people he thinks deserved it. Like, even looking back at the mess of Morrison’s Jason during Batman & Robin 2009, Jason was still trying to bring a sense of justice with who he was killing (”punishment that fits the crime”), it wasn’t killing for the sake of killing. He sees things in this kind of almost black and white ‘people who deserve it’ and ‘people who don’t’ way, and he has no problem dealing with death when it’s with the people he thinks deserve it.

but when someone who doesn’t in his mind ‘deserve it’ gets killed? i think he just goes into total avoidance mode. throws himself into other things he’s doing, tries not to dwell on it too much no matter how much he still thinks about it (this is especially evident in him consistently telling people “i’m fine!” after what happened to Roy, despite bringing Roy up literally like every few issues for a WHILE after he died and very clearly still struggling with it, Artemis is the only one who gets through to him on it a little bit)

but yeah, I just think that from Jason’s relatively unique situation of having been murdered, he knows what it’s like and he is perfectly fine wishing that on people he thinks are bad and deserve it, but it crushes him to imagine the people he loves and cares about having to experience something as painful as what he went through. not to mention the whole “I came back, why do I get a second chance at all this when they, who are a much better person than I am, probably won’t” mindset we get some implications of him having

D (canon is a coward and won’t)

hello DC i am once again insisting a batfam member is bisexual

CASS TIME

A (realistic headcanon):

ok so we know cass likes ballet. thats canon. however i think we also should in general explore cass experiencing other types of dance/performance as well, be it herself as a performer or even just watching. like... god imagine her & like my brain just automatically for group activities puts her with tim steph and duke but also for this in particular I feel would be a Jason embraced activity, but like them going to see a broadway show or some other professional theatre or something, and her just being enthralled by the reading of body language of the performers! like again by any point in current stuff cass does have like, the ability to speak fine (reading still hard tho) but even so I think like. okay im a theatre kid if that’s not obvious from the Everything About Me but one thing I always do after seeing a show is ya know spend dinner afterwards discussing it with whoever i saw it with.

I just think that like, bringing those people i just mentioned to the table to discuss seeing a show after would be so FASCINATING because cass would bring this whole perspective of critiquing their acting on a whole different level- not based on how well they delivered lines out loud, but by what their body language was saying as they moved on stage. like im very amused by the idea of cass getting a totally different picture in her mind about what a character’s motivations were because she was paying way more attention to what their physicality was saying vs the words that were written and how they were delivered. i think the debates her and the others would have would be EPIC there. jason defending the text as it was written adamantly and cass being like ‘ok yeah sure but thats not what they did’

B (hilarious):

cass having no concept of money because why would she bother? is SO funny to me. like it’s not that she couldn’t be reasonable if she wanted to, but like, she knows that the Waynes are well off so it’s not something she actually needs to be concerned about, so she just goes hog wild. takes steph out to fancy dinners and makes steph order for them since cass ya know doesn’t really read the menus, and steph’s like ‘jesus christ this costs-” “don’t worry about it” “but cass-” and she just holds up one of bruce’s credit cards and steph’s still like “but you don’t even know the range-” “it is fine”

bruce does not have the heart to tell her to stop

C (heart-crushing):

i mean this is pretty much canon but especially now after death metal where she’s remembering, not just being told by a guy using weird alternate timeline technology, that she used to be an adopted member of the Wayne family... like that hurts so bad. To look at these people who have ya know been kind to her, Bruce has still been a father-like figure to her (i mean literally from the moment they met in New 52 canon during the flashback in Batman & Robin Eternal, where he’s telling her that she’s not a monster just because of what people forced her to do.... that she’s a hero... that hug.... dad behavior), and they do to some extent treat her as family... But to then really know, to feel and remember that she was actually adopted! She was a part of their family. To look at how she’s been calling herself Orphan while working with them this whole time... that’s so heartbreaking! I have cried about this idea so much! I want so badly a conversation between her and Bruce now where he offers to officially adopt her again, I need it so bad and if it doesn’t happen at some point in the next year or two I will be so distraught.

D (canon is a coward and won’t)

i want an in-depth exploration of cass’ relationship to her own gender. being raised without language and you know with so much of her life being independent (remember: CASS RAN AWAY AROUND THE WORLD WITHOUT REALLY KNOWING ANY SPOKEN LANGUAGE) and outside of an organized society impressing too much of gender expectations on her, i feel like the way she experiences it would be very unique! like sure she’s so far been fine with being assigned ‘girl’ (ya know that comes with batgirl, and how people just automatically treated her based on how she looks) but in terms of gender expression and like her actual relationship with ‘traditional femininity’ etc like... because of how she was raised I just think she’d have a really different perspective on it that could be cool to explore, and I think she’d fall outside of the binary after she really thinks about how she identifies.

tldr on that: she/they nb cass is what i’m getting at here

#onwater #jason todd #cassandra cain #sam writes

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spicycreativity · 4 years ago

Text

Soft-Shoe Shuffle - Ch 1

Chapter: 1/12 Rating: T (for language) Content Warnings: Canon-typical Remus content. This chapter only: alcohol use Characters: All Pairings: Moceit, background Prinxiety, background Intrulogical (yes I played a little game of "pair the spares") Additional Tags: Hey it's the fic I published on Anon because I was embarrassed of how utterly pretentious it is!, post-PoF, sickfic, dirty poetry, humor interspersed with philosophy and Janus-typical pontification, this is VERY speculative and will get Jossed in the future lmao Summary: After claiming his place in the Light and coming face-to-face with the consequences of his actions, Janus finds himself unwillingly re-calibrating his moral compass. For selfish reasons, of course. But one apology snowballs into several, and soon he's running around the Mindscape with a low-grade fever and a guilty conscience as he desperately tries to regain some sense of self. Oh, and he's definitely not falling in love with Patton, so don't even bring it up. One Last Note: I wrote this in an ADHD fugue state. It is HEAVILY influenced by Dostoyevsky's Crime and Punishment, but there are also references to poetry and various other works of literature. I also deliberately used symbols, themes, and motifs. Most of them are pretty in your face except for the recurring ouroboros, which is used as a symbol of rebirth. ...Told you it was pretentious.

When you wake up to the promise of your dream world comin' true With one less friend to call on, was it someone that I knew? Away you will go sailing in a race among the ruins If you plan to face tomorrow, do it soon

Janus appeared in the Dark side of the Mindscape, elation swelling in his chest. Even the ringing headache and bitter taste in his mouth couldn't hollow the unfamiliar triumph that warmed him to the core. Caught up in his own thoughts, it took a moment for him to register the sight before him: Remus, upside-down on the couch, his brow furrowed and face an alarming shade of purple.

For a moment, Janus stood stock-still as he tried to get his bearings. He must have been more flustered than he'd realized-- He'd been aiming for his bedroom.

But here he was, staring down at Remus, who was definitely going to burst a blood vessel (or several) if he didn't flip over soon.

"That's not horrifying at all," Janus said, thinking it would be rude to dismiss Remus, especially since he had probably been eavesdropping. He had likely heard everything. Everything. Even the ugly parts.

"Do you remember when Thomas read that post about Nutty Putty Cave?" Remus asked in a strained, strangled voice. "That spelunker who died because he got stuck upside-down?"

"No," Janus said, before realizing his mistake. "Yes." He definitely wanted Remus to remind him of the gory details.

"That's what I thought," Remus said with a wicked grin.

Janus sighed through his nose. Remus, though he thrived on attention, seemed content enough to continue his experiment by himself. On the other hand, if Janus didn't bring up a certain insult he'd levied at Roman, Remus most certainly would, and at a time where it would cause the most upset and turmoil. Better for Janus to deal with it now, even if he would have to fight the tension pulling his muscles taut. He wanted to dance. He wanted to scream.

Hesitation proved to be Janus' downfall, and by the time he'd opened his mouth to broach the subject at hand, Remus had beaten him to the blow. "You're not usually this quiet, Oralboros. Snake got your tongue?"

Janus, again, sighed. Rather than answer, he doffed his hat, set it on the coffee table, and clumsily arranged himself upside-down next to Remus. The change in position immediately made his head throb. He ignored it. "I definitely meant it when I called you 'evil'."

Remus' eyes widened in faux-shock. "You called me evil ?" he shrieked, voice ringing out high and clear. "Me? How dare you. I'm an angel!"

At least Remus was taking it well. "Sarcasm is my thing," Janus said, realizing that he might make it out of this without having to properly apologize.

For some reason, Patton's face flashed into his mind, and a subsequent twinge of guilt made his tongue go sour. Fine. If there was ever a time to start telling uncomfortable truths… "But I am sorry I said that."

"Wow!" Remus laughed. "You must be upset." A red stain began to spill across his left eye. "You don't apologize."

"It’s not like I care about your feelings or anything." Janus would have liked to have drawn himself up to his full height, but it was impossible to do while upside-down. "As much as I'm enjoying watching your blood vessels slowly burst, would you please turn over before you hurt yourself? I've suffered enough psychological trauma for today."

"Oh, fine." Remus kicked his legs and landed neatly on his toes like a gymnast.

Janus, by contrast, got his arms tangled in his capelet and nearly folded himself in half before he found his balance again. "I meant to do that," he said, turning to grab his hat so Remus wouldn't see the blush on his face.

The sudden sensation of blood draining from his head made the room whirl. He steadied himself against Remus' shoulder until it slowed somewhat, but nothing could dampen the horrible ringing in his ears.

"Well," he said, adjusting his shirt. The sudden appearance of his conscience had taken the wind out of his sails more than he cared to admit, and all thoughts of dancing bled out of him along with a good deal of energy. "I'm not going to go scream into my pillows until I tire myself out."

"Being an agent of chaos is hard work," Remus said with a sage nod, "but that doesn't sound very relaxing, Mr Self Care."

"It's a form of meditation, if you think about it," Janus said.

Remus made a face. "You know I don't do that."

"...Meditate?"

"No, think."

"Ah. Well." Janus made only a token attempt to hide his fond smile. "Good night, Remus. Please stay up late and injure yourself."

"Can do, Snakeypoo.”

Janus turned. It was close enough, he might as well walk to his bedroom, especially considering how well his last attempt at appearing in it had gone.

The reason why that had been so difficult became apparent in mere moments. Janus froze in the hall and dropped to his knees at the giddy wave of horror and delight that made him too light-headed to stand.

He knelt in front of the empty stretch of wall where his door had been previously. Heat flooded his face.

"Jay?" The rounded toes of Remus' boots appeared in his line of sight. Janus zeroed in on them, the mud splatters and stains on the soft leather. "You have an aneurysm or what?"

Janus, unable to speak, motioned for Remus to turn around. He couldn't deal with this right now.

"Ohhh," said Remus. "Well. Good luck with that ." He hauled Janus to his feet. "So you're a boner fide good guy now, huh?"

Janus stared over Remus' shoulder at the empty stretch of wall where his door used to be. "That depends entirely on who you ask."

Remus shrugged and rose up on his toes. "You can scream into my pillows instead, if you want."

"As tempting as that is…" Janus trailed off, his eyes still fixed on the wall. It was tempting, despite the constant chaos in Remus' room. But he'd have to face the Light side sooner or later. It wasn't like he could move his room back, not without psychologically damaging Thomas and undoing all the work he'd done. "I'm really looking forward to getting insulted some more."

"Alright," Remus said with a shrug. "Try not to throw me under the bus this time, alright? Unless it's a real bus…" His gaze became dreamy, unfocused. "And it's doing 50 in a school zone and there's a whole pack of screaming kids in the crosswalk--"

"Goodbye, Remus." Janus turned and left.

The barrier between the "dark" and the "light" sides of Thomas' brain had been a joint venture. It would have been there in some form no matter what, but it was Janus and Roman (with Patton's tacit blessing) who had worked to put up something more physical between them.

Janus ducked under the red curtain, trepidation percolating in his stomach, but what he found on the other side was anticlimactic to say the least: It was dead silent on this side of the barrier.

Janus wasn't sure what he'd been expecting. He knew by now that the so-called "Lights" had issues working out their interpersonal issues, and this most recent conflict wasn't the kind of thing you just got over. It did follow that they would all go off to lick their wounds for a time.

Hesitantly, toe-to-heel, Janus crept down the hall. It felt for all the world like he was sneaking around a vast hotel, right down to needlessly ornate design on the plush carpeting. That was probably Roman's doing.

Janus focused, trying to call the Mindscape to work for him. He wanted to go to his room.

The Mindscape listened. Janus turned a corner and found a row of doors stretching down yet another brightly-lit corridor. His eye was immediately drawn, not to the brilliant yellow of his own door, but to the figure huddled in front of it: Patton sat with his arms wrapped around his legs, forehead resting on his knees.

"Looking for someone?" Janus asked, slightly louder than necessary.

Patton jerked his head up. "Oh! Janus!" He plastered an unconvincing smile on his face. "You sure pop star-tled me."

Scaring Patton hadn't brought Janus nearly the level of schadenfreude he'd thought it would. He crossed his arms over his chest, extending a third to help Patton up. "Take your time getting to the point.”

"Oh." Patton accepted Janus' proffered hand and got to his feet. Warmth spilled from him, permeating the fabric of Janus' glove and gently heating his palm. "Well, it's just…" He took a deep breath. "I noticed your door and I thought-- Well, I wanted to make you feel welcome!"

A high-pitched tone resonated in Janus' skull. He bit down on the inside of his cheek to keep from wincing at the mounting pressure-pain-exhaustion in his temples. "Aren't you just a saint ." Patton's face fell. Janus fought the urge to swear aloud. He usually had a better handle on himself, and he knew better than to alienate potential allies. "I mean, thank you, Patton. Truly. I appreciate it." Patton had proven himself useful. Janus should at least cultivate that relationship, even if it meant a little discomfort.

"Have you eaten?" Patton asked. "It's a little late, but I could make something if you wanted." He paused. "Maybe we could play cards or something." Another pause. "O-only if you want to, I mean."

Janus let his face remain impassive even as he internally cringed at the idea of staying awake for even another second. It would be so easy to brush Patton off with a few honeyed words and disappear beyond the barrier of his door. But Patton had stood up for him today, or at least he'd tried to. Janus sighed. Quid pro quo. "That sounds like an utter waste of time."

"Are you… I'm sorry, sometimes I can't tell when you're…"

"Yes, Patton. That sounds lovely."

Patton actually hopped in place, an adorable little jig that absolutely didn't send a confusing little shockwave of fondness through Janus' ribcage. "Really?"

"Really," Janus lied.

He followed Patton down the hall into the living room, which opened into the dining room and the kitchen. Janus studied his surroundings, trying to take in as much as his exhausted faculties would allow. Even in the absence of other Sides, the living room felt warm and welcoming. All the lights were on, and they bathed everything in gentle golden light .

"You're awfully quiet," Patton said.

Janus shook himself. "I was just getting my bearings."

"I guess you've never really been over here, huh?" Pattton opened the refrigerator. Was he actually going to cook , instead of just manifesting something? How quaint. "Do you like grilled cheese?"

It had been a long, confusing day. Doublespeak came to Janus as naturally as breathing, but he was obviously running circles around Patton even when he wasn't trying to. "Yes," he said, hoping to telegraph his sincerity by not emoting at all.

It seemed to work. Patton studied him for a moment before turning back to the fridge. "Then that's what I'll make."

Janus took advantage of this temporary distraction to clamber onto one of the barstools. The slick velvet of his capelet tended to disagree with surfaces like wood and vinyl, and he needed a moment to arrange things so he didn't look as unbalanced as he felt.

He watched Patton work in the kitchen, a detached coolness washing out the scene. Quid pro quo, he reminded himself when he felt his facade begin to slip. He owed Patton this.

He certainly didn't feel the slightest twinge of guilt, that he had been the one to orchestrate this breakdown. Yes, the Light Sides had loaded the gun, but in the end it was Janus who had pulled the trigger.

He shook his head and thought about playing cards, good Bicycle playing cards with holes punched through them like they'd come from a casino. "What should we play?" he asked, pulling the deck from his breast pocket.

Patton looked up from the stovetop, his eyes flicking to the cards in Janus' hand. "Do you know Kings in the Corners?"

"Not personally, no."

Patton laughed, but there was something cold about it. "It's really simple," he said. "I'll show you how to play and you can tell me if you like it."

It was nearly impossible to cheat at Kings in the Corners. Janus doubted this had been a calculated measure on Patton's part, doubted he had the capacity for that kind of foresight, but he respected it just the same.

They played in funereal silence, staring each other down across the light wood of the dining room table. Janus, ill-inclined to take off his gloves, utilized a napkin to keep from staining them with melted butter from the grilled cheese Patton had made. Neither one of them smiled. Neither one of them spoke.

Janus pulled a card from the deck to indicate the end of his turn and glanced up at Patton. His face was somber, almost sorrowful, and it clashed against the gentle domesticity of the dining room, with its floral table runner and mismatched placemats.

Janus started to laugh.

"What is it?" Patton asked, cheeks darkening. "What? Do I have something on my face?"

Janus swallowed down another peal of laughter and cleared his throat, unable to wholly restrain the smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "You look like I’m holding you here at gunpoint." It was somewhat ironic, considering Janus was the one who felt like he couldn't leave.

"What?" Patton smiled, but it was more akin to an offering than an expression of joy.

"It’s not really funny. " Janus wasn’t quite sure how to make Patton understand.

Patton sat back with a sigh, placing his cards facedown on the table. "But I guess it is pretty funny, huh? In a really sad way."

Janus almost asked what was sad about it before realizing that Patton probably missed his friends. Instead he said, "Yes" and stifled a yawn behind his free hand.

"I'll make coffee!" Patton leapt to his feet and was off to the kitchen before Janus could so much as blink.

The newfound solitude made it that much harder for Janus to ignore his headache, which had only worsened in the hour or so he'd been playing cards with Patton. Despite the nonchalant facade he'd tried so hard to project, he'd been holding himself tense.

Maybe the night (or morning, at this point) would be easier to tolerate if he had, say, a bit of gold rum.

The corner of a flask dug into Janus' hip. He smiled.

"Just how late are you planning on staying up?" he asked Patton when the latter returned holding two mismatched mugs.

"Oh, I don't know," Patton said. Lied. He set a mug down in front of Janus and then resumed his seat, the cards forgotten by his elbow. "I'm… A little scared of what tomorrow will be like."

Janus eased the flask out of his pocket. "Rum?"

"Oh, um," Patton said, staring at the flask. "I don't know…"

Janus raised an eyebrow, working something out. He landed on it a millisecond later: Patton wanted to be convinced. Easy enough. Janus opened the flask and poured what he hoped was a shot into his own mug. It was black, he noticed, except for the yellow snake that wrapped around it, its tail firmly in its own mouth. Ouroboros. "Surely you don't intend to make me drink alone?"

As Janus had expected, Patton buckled the second he was pushed. "I guess not."

It was funny, Janus mused as he carefully tipped rum into Patton's coffee, how lying was only off-limits when Janus suggested it. Hilarious.

But now wasn't the time for bitterness, now was the time to repay the debt he owed Patton. "Cheers," he said, pocketing the flask once more.

"Cheers."

Janus sipped his coffee. "You put milk in this," he observed.

Patton's smile was surprisingly sly. "I know you want me to think you take it black. Virgil did too, at first. I know you ‘Dark Sides’ have an image you like to uphold."

"And how does Virgil take his coffee now?" Janus asked, lifting an eyebrow.

"With Snickers-flavored creamer."

"Well, I do take my coffee black," Janus lied.

Patton's smile never faltered. "We'll see, kid-- Uh, Janus."

"Patton," Janus said, before he could start thinking about the implications of Patton wanting to call him 'kiddo,' "you are planning on sleeping tonight, aren't you?"

"Maybe eventually," Patton said, suddenly unable to look Janus in the eye. "At some point."

"Tomorrow will come whether or not you sleep. It's definitely better to pull an all-nighter and feel like garbage instead of facing everything with a clear head."

"I know." Patton leaned forward so he could rest his head on his hand.

For a moment, Janus was tempted to mirror him. Sitting up straight was becoming quite the chore. "I know how the others love a calm, rational discussion."

"Oh, I wish." Patton's expression turned wistful.

Janus stifled a yawn behind his hand. He had half-expected the coffee to counteract the depressant effect of the alcohol, but all he had to show for the combination was a racing heart.

"I'll be fine out here if you want to go to bed," Patton said. Without seeming to realize he was doing it, he brought his hand to his mouth and bit down on his thumbnail.

It was a tempting offer. A day ago, Janus would have taken it. After all, it wasn't like he cared about Patton outside of professional courtesy. They weren't friends. But guilt nagged at him and wouldn't let him entertain the idea of abandoning Patton for longer than a second.

"That's a remarkable impression of a window," Janus said, waiting for Patton to look confused before elaborating, "I can see right through you."

"You got me." Patton smiled sadly. "That's something I've always admired about you, Janus."

Now it was Janus' turn to be confused. "What?"

"You're so… clever."

Janus narrowed his eyes. "Please do keep trying to change the subject."

"It's just… I don't want to have to lie there and, and think about today and everything I did wrong. I hurt Thomas. I hurt my friends." Patton's eyes were shiny behind his glasses; the unshed tears sparkled in the light when he locked eyes with Janus. "Aren't you going to think about the same thing?"

Anger flared, perhaps prematurely, in Janus' chest. "About what you did wrong today?"

"About what you did wrong," Patton said timidly.

"I," Janus said icily, "didn't do anything wrong." He stared Patton down across the table, jaw set, daring him to push back. Let him lecture and nag, let him prove that he hadn't changed no matter what he said.

But Patton only nodded, his face lined with misery. "Okay," he softly. "I think you're right, Janus. We should go to bed."

Janus thought about how much faster he could get to bed if the table was cleared, and all the dishes and cards vanished in a blink.

"Um, Janus?" Patton said.

"Yes?"

"I don't regret everything that happened today."

"Oh?"

Patton only nodded and sank out.

Janus made a beeline for his own room; better to find his way there on foot rather than risk appearing in the wrong spot.

Once inside, he looked around to ensure nothing was amiss, eyes roving over the dark wood of his bookshelves and desk, his mirrored closet doors, the leather armchairs across from his bed.

Everything was exactly as Janus had left it. He nodded, satisfied, set his hat on the nightstand, and sprawled out of top of the covers without bothering to further undress.

One hazy thought crawled to the surface of his mind before he fell asleep: At least he wouldn't be one of the regrets haunting Patton tonight.

#sanders sides #sanders sides fanfiction #janus sanders #moceit #spicywrites soft-shoe shuffle #song featured is: race among the ruins - gordon lightfoot #pics are free to use from unsplash and wikimedia commons

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manicdragondreamgirl · 4 years ago

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I haven’t had chemistry since like 2008, and I’m also an idiot who likes to make my friends upset, so I rated the periodic table in order to tilt my friends:

Hydrogen - this is like your childhood friend who has always been with you more or less and always will be down to get a drink and chill even tho you haven’t spoken in years. Solid bro imo 7.5/10

Helium - always down for a good time, even if probably created Alvin and the Chipmunks which in some places is considered a war crime. 4/10

Lithium - Gives me bitchy vibes and is flammable as fuck if I remember. Skinny bitch with an attitude 3/10

Beryllium - idk this sounds like a sailor moon villain lol for that it can have a 6/10

Boron - more like BORONG amirite ha ha wait no seriously I have no idea lol 5/10 clean neutral rating

Carbon - *screaming* 2/10 I will not be taking questions

Nitrogen - cool cool cool tight tight tight 9/10 Nitrogen just is the cool hot chick you wish you were

Oxygen - kid who takes up all the glory for the group project even tho you did all the work, 4/10 for natural charisma

Fluorine - lol what are you knockoff chlorine lmfao bitch 3/10 reminds me of the dentist

Neon - I can vibe with this boy for his contributions to signs which cause my eyes to scream 8/10 modernized Art Deco thanks you

Sodium - 10/10 this is me and I won’t be taking questions next element

Magnesium - magnesium is a close relative of magnificent and therefore I think the case is closed folks 9/10

Aluminum - 10/10 for providing a home to my Diet Coke addiction I’d be dead without you

Silicon - 6.9/10 :smirk:

Phosphorous - This has a very soundly name and it’s welcome to do that but idk, not a fan, seems like he’d be smelly, 2/10

Sulfur - 1/10 pretty sure that dog farts are purely comprised of this and as such if I was leaving negative ratings I would

Chlorine - 7.8/10 for being in pools so we could swim without brain eating amoeba in the south you a champ

Argon - he seems like a nerd jk this guy has a good color 9/10 for just being himself

Potassium - I hate bananas and this word gives me the physical sensation of biting into one but only by thinking of abstract letters and making them into something which we can nutrientise from bananas and to me that shit is bananas, b a n a n a s — 3/10 for making me sing hollaback girl thru adhd word association

Calcium - hm my brain went to mega milk so you get a 2/10 today bud I don’t make the rules

Scandium - pretty sure this is fake lol what’s next faxdium, e-Mailite and copinium? 5/10

Titanium - this song’s a banger and also is the only thing that lets me wear earrings 10/10

Vanadium - if your erection lasts for longer than like idk it’s supposed to then don’t take vanadium wait what do you mean it’s not an ED treatment 4/10

Chromium - decent bloke shame the browser eats all your memory 5/10

Manganese - if a weeb tries to tell me how to pronounce mayonnaise one more time... 1/10

Iron - excellent tool against the fey, in your blood, what a bro, 10/10 this bitch slaps

Cobalt - has a powerful energy; I respect him. 8/10

Nickel - if I had a nickel for every time someone made this joke lol 5/10 he’s doing his best

Copper - taste bad 3/10

Zinc - isn’t that the dude in the green tunic and white tights who saves premcess Lelda or something lol 7/10 those games are good

Gallium - seems like a prick 4/10

Germanium - sounds like a child pronouncing geraniums which are superior 3/10

Arsenic - bad vibes coach 1/10

Selenium - isn’t this just sailor moon lol 10/10 love this bitch

Bromine - farmine wherever you aremine - 9/10 I love a good bro

Krypton - he’s okay I guess 5/10

Rubidium - yet another Steven universe villain who will be redeemed I imagine 4/10 seems a bit dull

Strontium - I feel nothing when I see this lad’s name and that seems like a shame 1/10 I don’t like it

Yttrium - this is an atrium in Yharnam, or something 8/10 would love to sit in one and make contact with higher beings

Zirconium - oh wait THIS is the sailor moon villain from the dead moon circus! 9/10 I enjoyed that arc

Niobium - seems sassy, I like that in an element 7/10

Molybdenum - I hate this one, rancid. 1/10 for making me have flashbacks to difficult Ancient Greek vocabulary there is no fucking way that sound combination is anything but Beta and Delta borking and then Latin being like oh imma steal that

Technetium - 6/10 decent name but seems a bit forced

Ruthenium - 5/10 kindly old lady element I guess lol

Rhodium - 10/10 this ain’t my first rhodium babee this lad has good vibes what a name what a king

Palladium - 10/10 for making me think of paladins

Silver - 12/10 I’m breaking the rules for this silver is the best it is so cool and also it is the other best tool for dealing with supernatural creatures when iron has failed you highly suggest Even if I am extremely allergic to it going into my ears...wait hold on

Cadmium - 2/10 sounds like a total douche

Indium - 8/10, i just think it’s independent and neat

Tin - 10/10 good ear sounds when involving rain and roof shapes and automatically reminds me of Nora Jones’s come away with me album which is also 10/10

Antimony - 7/10 decent protagonist good name all around seems rad

Tellurium - tell ur mom what? That’s so early 2010s league of legends humor bro 2.5/10

Iodine - strikes fear in my soul from having it poured on my wounds but this is why I have more pain tolerance than god 5.3/10

Xenon - I think this is a declension of Xena warrior princess which is a win in my eyes, 8/10

Caesium - kind of has a cunty Latin name, 4.5/10

Barium - yeah boss, bury’im! 7.5/10 I love a good mobster gag

Lanthanum - A bit pretentious on the Tolkien spectrum sorry bud 3/10 sounds like you’d be the dickwad elf everyone hates

Cerium - 6.5/10 I like this one, gives me a clean vibe

Praseodymium - the fuck who sneezed all their alphabet soup onto the paperwork and called it an element Christ we can’t keep doing this 1.5/10

Neodymium - oh my god what did I just say 1/10

Promethium - thank Christ we’re back to greek 9/10 Prometheus was a Chad I could get behind

Samarium - 5/10 gives me boring wizard vibes

Europium - 4.5/10 don’t rename opium chrissake can’t take these nerds anywhere

Gadolinium - 5/10 it’s a starship knockoff but it’s trying to be bold with the G sound

Terbium - 2/10 I don’t vibe with this one

Dysprosium - sounds like an antidepressant that has a lot of shitty side effects 3/10

Holmium - sounds like someone anxious asking their beloved to hold them 8/10 I like hurt/comfort fics

Erbium - you can’t just describe something as herby you daft bastard 2/10

Thulium - sounds like a spell I like it 8.5/10

Ytterbium - macguffin in a shite sci-fi show that gets highly overrated because BBC produced it and superwholock stans emerge and go utterly feral 1/10

Lutetium - bards are an element I agree 10/10

Hafnium - sounds like a river (my dog) sound and has a cute vibe, I’d offer it head pats 7/10

Tantalum - noooo you can’t be sad yuor so sexe haha 6.9/10 tantalizing

Tungsten - 10/10 this is a lad with history

Rhenium - 5.5/10 it’s ok

Osmium - 4/10 I wasn’t a big wizard of oz fan

Iridium - 9/10 sounds like iridescent and that’s in my top 10 favorite words and concepts

Platinum - 10/10 best Pokémon game

Gold - 7.9/10 all that glitters and all but it’s still pretty on some people, silver is better tho

Mercury - yikes 8/10 so it doesn’t kill me

Thallium - sounds like the brother character in a ps4 exclusive western rpg that oddly falls under the radar in terms of reviews and gets shafted at awards for no reason 7/10 I’ll support you tho

Lead - 2/10 that’s gonna be a no from me dawg pretty sure I still have lead in my hands from stabbing myself with my mechanical pencils

Bismuth - 6/10 sounds good in mouth and reminds me of biscuits for some reason, I’ll take it

Polonium - to thine own self be true so stop trying to act like the arts don’t influence science jk pretty sure this is named for Poland but hey that’s where we get the Witcher so you get a pass 6/10

Astatine - 1/10 I don’t even know what you are

Radon - 7/10 this motherfucker knows his shit and how to party, rad is right

Francium - I bring you francium...and I bring you myrdurdium... 7/10 for a good vine

Radium - killed the video star probably 9/10 I can get behind her

Actinium - as opposed to passtinium I prefer actinium in the voice of writing 8/10

Thorium - overrated Norse god 5/10 because lightning is still cool

Protactinum - sounds like some pretentious condom brand 4/10 wouldn’t do it with a dude who bought these

Uranium - I always thought she was a hot sailor scout 10/10

Neptunium - same for her I knew they weren’t cousins you couldn’t lie to me 4kids 10/10

Plutonium - sounds like a macguffin unfortunately 5/10

Americium - I read this with a pivotal letter missing and nearly died, 7/10 for the laugh

Curium - 10/10 gives me Curie vibes and also reminds me of curiosity which reminds me of—[old yellered before the association could set in]

Berkelium - what I shout when I want Burke (fam dog) to slaughter innocents and raze territories 2/10 world was not meant to know his commands

Californium - 1/10 California is cool with geography but probs could stand to chill with the ego sorry to my friends in Cali

Einsteinium - 6/10 it’s alright but we’re really running out of ideas huh

Fermium - 3/10 this one is porny

Mendelevium - 1/10 my brain didn’t like parsing this and I stand by my earlier statement of running out of good names

Nobelium - 0/10 you didn’t name any noble gases this cowards this gas can’t be a noble oh wait it’s NOBEL I take it back 5/10 seems an alright chap

Lawrencium - fear the old blood my sorry dead hunter’s ass I’ll never get back my life from the hours I spent trying to beat this lava shitting bastard 2/10 for being a boss who eats Taco Bell specifically before being challenged to have fresh lava shit with which to punish you for having the audacity to exist in his space

Rutherfordium - my god what a snob 4.2/10 I respect him a little but only because he sounds like a right lad

Dubnium - DROP THE BASS 10/10

Seoborgium - not sure about this one but it can have a 7/10

Bohrium - as an American English speaker this sound combination makes my pathetic throat become a black hole as I try to properly create the sound of it 10/10 I love when my body becomes a massive void in the universe

Hassium - lazy 2/10

Elements 109-118 can go fuck themselves I hate them all, collective 6.66/10 for their general demonic vibe

#the periodic table #made by an idiot #it’s me your manic dragon dream girl #long post

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katsidhe · 3 years ago

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Hello as a long time silent lurker with post notifications on, and someone who has been very into the minecraft roleplay for about 9 months, I am oh so incredibly intrigued on your thoughts! I hope you don't mind if I ramble a little. Sam (both minecraft and spn, but in this context the minecraft one) is one of my favourite characters because he's so incredibly complex. The prison story has sparked so much discussion and conflict in this fandom, so I would love to hear your thoughts if you want to share!

oh noooooooooooo don’t enable me. (Jk <3)

I’m putting this under a read more for those of you who don’t want to be inflicted with my minecraft roleplay brain worms. I would apologize but I think we’re well past that.

So, like, full disclosure that I am pretty new to dsmp and am surely missing out on big ol swathes of Essential Character Content, etc etc. But I do know the basics, and I’ve (naturally) watched all the Torture Box Content, because I mean come on, that’s my brand.

k so First of all, THE most essential part of any media: x-coded y girl. Dream is a textbook Cas-coded Sam girl. Sam (Minecraft) is a Cas-coded Dean girl. Quackity is a Dean-coded Sam girl. I’d say Tommy is Dean-Dean. Techno is, hmm, Cas-Cas. Okay, important part done.

Minecraft Sam is very fun! I find it absolutely delightful that he clings to moral high ground while torturing and starving a prisoner. And at least from what I’ve seen, there’s a lot of room for interpretation as to the level of guilt and involvement he actually feels about what’s being done to Dream. He goes back and forth between justifying the treatment as something Dream categorically deserves, and justifying it as a means to an end. Whether that end is the book itself, or whether it’s Quackity’s cooperation/satisfaction, or whether it’s some twisted and bloody sense of justice and duty, seems to vary wildly. On top of that, of course, is the irony that Dream was the one to give him this commission and this job in the first place: in every respect, it’s a duty to Dream (to punish him; to secure him; to uphold his rules) that Sam’s fulfilling. Dream isn’t the only one to suffer from Sam’s inflexibility surrounding the entire concept of Dream: Tommy and Ponk do too.

And yet it’s not the inflexibility that ends up hurting Dream the worst: it’s the gaps in that rigidity. If Sam had kept the prison operating as apparently originally commissioned, it would be inhumane but just about bearable: hardly the level of absurd, over-the-top war crime that it’s reached by now. His choice to begin starving Dream in earnest seems to have been mostly an emotional reaction, after Tommy’s death. (Ironic, too, that Tommy also suffered the result of this choice.) And this is fine, because it’s not active: it’s passive, something that’s happening by inaction. Same with giving Quackity specially made weapons and total carte blanche.

The level of trust that Dream has in Sam’s sense of duty is also fascinating. Even as late as the most recent stream, after the guy’s been permitting him to be tortured for months, Dream appeals to Sam’s need to keep Dream static, in one place as his prisoner, in order to save his life. Incidentally, I do think that convincing Sam to keep Quackity from straight-up murdering him is the only concession Dream was actually hoping to win with that conversation. because like, food and a courtyard visit? after a jail break? Like hell is Sam going to grant that, even before the stunt he and Techno pulled, and Dream knows it. I think that the rest of that conversation was just to deflect, and keep Sam from questioning Dream more sharply about whatever he and Techno have planned. Bringing up Tommy and letting Sam go off on his predictable diatribe about morality and just desserts seemed similarly strategic: Dream knows what Sam thinks about what kind of treatment he deserves. He’s had months to figure it out, and it wasn’t exactly rocket science to begin with.

Anyway, that trust is the same reason Dream appealed (unsuccessfully) to Sam when Quackity first showed up: it devastated him to realize that he’d miscalculated the degree of Sam’s willingness to set aside his duty in this one particular way. Quackity in general represents a HUGE blind spot in Sam’s otherwise completely rigid inflexibility: so huge it’s almost baffling, given what Sam was ready to do to Tommy and Ponk and Ghostbur. But Quackity represents a loophole Sam badly wants. He badly, badly wants some good old-fashioned vengeance, without dressing it up with any pretensions of procedure or justice, but he can’t allow himself to actively act on those impulses—or else he would be Bad, and he can’t have that. He has to believe himself to be Good, and he wants to indulge himself with Dream’s suffering anyway. So he explains that, actually, Dream’s treatment is Dream’s own fault. It’s hilariously deluded.

Which brings me to Quackity, because what makes Quackity fun is that he’s actually NOT hilariously deluded—not about this, at least. Unlike Sam, he’s not laboring under the insane mental acrobatics necessary to convince himself that torture is Good Actually. He knows that what he’s doing is terrible, but he owns it: he’s fine admitting that he enjoys it, that he’s doing this for personal gain and personal vengeance and not for reasons of high-minded civic duty. He’s justifying the torture with brutal simplicity: Dream has hurt him and Dream has something he needs, done and done. He seems to be a firm believer in vengeful and disproportionate retribution, just as with his whole Butcher Army thing. To which I say, neat and fun! I also really really enjoy the power dynamic between him and Dream. Dream is someone who commands respect and fear and power, who could murder Quackity with one hand tied behind his back if they were on equal footing, and who probably barely spared him a thought as a threat. Quackity lives in terror of the thought of Dream escaping and wreaking his vengeance. And Quackity is trying his very best to wrestle that power away from him.

He seems to be pretty unpracticed and ineffective at torture, too—like, yeah, I get this is Minecraft and props are limited, but torturing someone long-term with an ax and a sword is going to be more than a bit unwieldy. and did he even bring in health potions his first day? It’s pretty telling and hilarious that Sam is the one who offers the shears, a far more practical choice of tool. Not to mention that the entire premise of his interrogation gives Dream massive, massive incentive to never give Quackity anything. Quackity straight up admits to Dream that the information he wants is the only reason he’s letting Dream live, which is utterly counterproductive if he wants the book sometime this year. Functionally, he needs to torture Dream not merely into admission, but into suicide. And as the days and weeks and months pass, he’s still got nothing to show for it but growing vindictiveness, paranoia, and frustration. By the time of the latest stream, he’s completely lost the plot—his threats don’t even make sense, his violence is ineffective and unhinged and indiscriminate. He’s lost all leverage and he’s needlessly (re)made a powerful enemy in Technoblade.

So, like, characters like Lucifer are fun because they’re good at torture. Characters like Quackity are fun because they’re bad at torture. But that doesn’t much matter. He doesn’t need to be particularly talented, or strong, or skilled to make Dream’s existence hell: the bare facts of the situation are more than enough for that. What does he learn, over the course of these visits—what skills does he hone, what kinds of violence does he discover that he can stomach? What depths of ruthlessness and creativity and hatred does he discover within himself? What threats does he make that he finds himself following through on before he’s even thought through the implications? It’s a learning curve, for him and Dream both. They’re learning each other, they’re learning the corners of this little hell together. Dream wasn’t expecting him to be capable of this degree of hostility or violence. Quackity is sick of being underestimated.

Which brings me finally to Dream. My general and hastily-gleaned impression of the fandom gives me the distinct impression that there is somehow a school of thought convinced Dream’s earned this treatment? Which baffles me. not only in how its absurd extremity (daily torture in a tiny box for literal months, jesus fucking christ) isn’t something even the most terrible villain could earn, but also in how Dream himself strikes me more as a morally gray fallen/falling antihero type than anything else. I was honestly completely prepared to find him to be a straightforward Bad Guy pre-prison, but that’s not at all my impression. He’s clearly got people and things he cares about and wants to protect, and big picture goals he’ll ruthlessly sacrifice anything to advance (ahem Cas-coded Sam girl). Really, it’s more that roleplays don’t tend to lend themselves easily to those types of narrative classification: nearly every character is a POV character; consuming the content from every perspective is nearly impossible. There aren’t super neat ways to sort antagonists and protagonists in essential terms, only in their relationships to one another. In terms of manipulation, war crimes, power-grabbing, and general destruction, practically everyone on the server is guilty to some degree or another. Dream’s treated Tommy pretty damn terribly, but that hardly makes him unique. What does make Dream unique is that he’s been singled out for near-universally-agreed-upon confinement (which oh so conveniently aligns with him being held as a tool, for information). And that’s neat!

…Look, tldr I just like it when people are in torture boxes. more media should have torture boxes, they are good and fun.

#not spn #anyway nonny I would LOVE to chat more about this tbh #suicide mention #torture #dsmp for ts

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retro-mint45 · 3 years ago

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RETRO - PINK - MAKATI - GIRLS - ‘EVENING’ -

SORRY - WASN'T - HERE - I DIDN'T - SLEEP 4 -

2 DAYS - AGAIN - SITTING - WITH - EYES HAI -

CLOSED - AS - I - LISTENED - 2 - PASTOR JOEL -

OSTEEN'S - PODCASTS - THOSE - ARE VERY -

EXPENSIVE - (+$30) - I - GOT - MINE - AS XO -

ANY AMOUNT - INFERIOR - PRODUCT BUT -

ALL - I - HAD - DIED - IN - BATHROOM - NO -

MATTER - WHAT - I - DID - THE STEAM THE -

MOISTURE - KILLED - MY - CD PLAYERS XO -

BRATZ - PRETTY - PLAYERS - MY - SONY TV -

OF - THE - PAST - ALL - DIED - 1 BY 1 - VERY -

EXPENSIVE - GADGETS - THIS - PODCAST -

ONLY - 1 - THAT MADE - IT - BUT ITS START -

HEART - 2 - DESIGNATE - FAVORITE - BUT -

ONCE - U - DO - IT - FAVORITED - ALL YES -

AFTER - NOW - IT'S - BETTER - I THINK -

THE - MOISTURE - BUT - NOW I CAN'T -

GO - BACK - 2 - REPEAT - A - SERMON -

LIKE - WALMART - MILITARY - CLOCK 4 -

ALL - USA - INVENTIONS NIGHT LIGHT -

BLUE - 2 C - IN - THE - DARK - DOESN'T -

LAST - LONG - SO - THIS - PODCAST IT -

STOPPED - CAN'T - GO - BACK - VERY -

FAST - 2 - ADVANCE - 2 - GO - BACK 2 -

WHERE - IT - WAS - ANYWAY - SO YES -

2 DAYS - DIDN'T SLEEP - NEVER - GO -

2 - FIVERR - EVER - AGAIN - THEY'RE -

LIKE - $50 - PER - HOUR - OR - $1,500 -

PER - HOUR - SO - U KNOW - WHO U -

WILL - CONTACT - REMEMBER - THE -

3 - KOREAN - FEMALES - STABBED 2 -

DEATH - AMERICANS - ARE FAST XO -

MURDERERS - ALSO - ESPECIALLY -

ISOLATED - LOCATIONS - I - LOVE -

THEIR - CYCLONE - WEATHER XO -

THEY'RE - 200 MPH - STRONG WINDS -

CALLED - HURRICANES - LOVE - WHEN -

OUR - GOD - LETS - US - KNOW - NOW -

HE'S - IN - US - SURROUNDING - US & -

THE - CREATOR - OF - THE - HEAVENS -

& - EARTH - EXPERT - IN CHANGE OF -

WEATHER - FIVERR - APP - 'YOU'RE -

NOT - HIRING - ME?' - REMEMBER -

21 AND - OLDER - 1 STEP - 4 WARD -

WITH - CONCEALED - WEAPON PERMIT -

KILL - INTRUDERS - AMERICANS - GREAT -

PRIDE - AS - MEN & WOMEN - THEIR XO -

HEIGHTS - BUT - THEY - FEET - BUTTOCK -

LEGS - HANDS - ARE - GIGANTIC - LOTS -

OF - GOLD - MEDALS - MEANS THEY'RE -

STRONG - WINNING - MOST - GOLD -

TELLS - AMERICANS - IN - USA - THEY -

CAN - MURDER - BETTER - FASTER SO -

FIVERR - APP - MISOGYNISTS - HARM -

ABUSE - AND - MURDER - OF YOUNG -

GIRLS - CONTEMPT - 4 - WOMEN - ME -

FOUND - THUMBTRACK.COM - BY XO -

MOTOROLA - MOTO - G6 - I - WAS BY -

THE - WAY - ATTACKED - BY - USA XO -

MEN - THEY - GIVE - HEART ATTACKS -

MEANING - BY - THEIR WORD THEY -

WISH - THEY - CAN - KILL - WOMEN -

AT - ONCE - THEIR - WORK - FR YES -

GRADUATING - FR - COLLEGE - OR -

NOT - THEIR - FEE - IS - $27,000 ITS -

NOT - REFUNDABLE - REMEMBER -

YOUR - BANK - WHEN - THEY DO -

NOT - DELIVER - WHAT - THEY SAID -

'UNAUTHORIZED - CHARGE' - NO -

SAYS - CAPITAL ONE - BANK - NON -

VIRGIN - FEMALE - MEANS - 'MA'M -

U - WERE - ROBBED - CALL POLICE' -

BANKS - ARE - NOT - RESPONSIBLE -

2 - REFUND - OUR - MEMBER - WHEN -

THEY'RE - ROBBED - OR - YOUR - BAD -

JUDGMENT - U - BOUGHT - ONLINE' -

SOLUTION - IN - FUTURE - NO TRACE -

FREEZING - ALL - ACCOUNTS - THEIR -

PAYROLL - CHECKS - WITHOUT - USD -

US DOLLARS - THEY - CAN - GET NEW -

JOB - BUT - THAT - PAYCHECK - DOES -

NOT - CASH - INCLUDING - SPOUSES -

THEY'RE - 18 AND OLDER - KIDS - THE -

GRANDPA - ALL - THEIR - RELATIVES -

ALL MONEY - FROZEN - 6 MONTHS -

CAPITAL - ONE - BANK - FEMALE -

WHAT - SHE - SAID - FELONY OF -

'ENCOURAGEMENT - OF - CRIME' -

'ROBBERY - IS - CRIME' - YOUR XO -

LOCAL - POLICE - WILL - TELL - YOU -

WHEN - YOU'RE - ROBBED - OF XO -

LESS - THAN - $300 - NOT - POLICE -

MATTER - THEY - THINK - THEY'RE -

ABSOLVED - OF - OBEDIENCE OF -

ALL - LAWS - SAME - FREEZING OF -

THEIR - PAYCHECKS - FELONIES - ARE -

PUT - IN - THEIR - RECORDS - FINES - R -

REMOVED - FR THEIR - SALARIES AND -

WAGES - VIOLENT - ARMED - JOBS AS -

THEY'RE - NOT - MILITARY - FORCE -

THEY'RE - NOT - ALLOWED - 2 KILL -

ANYONE - VIOLATORS OF AMENDMENTS -

1, 2, 4, 8, 14 - CAPITAL - ONE - BANK - USA -

WHITE - FEMALE - STATEMENT - 'GAVE - U -

CRUEL - AND - UNUSUAL - PUNISHMENT' -

POLICE - SAME VIOLATED - 14TH DID -

NOT - GIVE - NATURALIZED - IN - USA -

'EQUAL - PROTECTION - OF - LAW' -

CAPITAL ONE BANK - AND POLICE -

WERE - TREATING - FEMALES - LIKE -

BLONDS - 'U - WERE ROBBED - YOU ARE -

A - BAD - GIRL' - 'GET - OVER - IT' - USA & -

OTHER - BANKS - YOUR - MONEY THEIR -

SALARIES - BILL - PAYMENTS - PHONE & -

WATER - ELECTRICITY - ALL - YOUR - $ $ -

SHOWED - OTHER - SERVICES - THEY'VE -

GOT - ALL - THAT - MONEY - SO - LOANS -

SMALL - MONTHLY - BANKS GIVE - OUT -

LOANS - INTERESTS - THEIR - PROFITS -

SO - MANY BANKS - HAVE - NOT YES -

CLOSED - THUMB TRACK.COM - THOSE -

MALES - STOLE - $27,000 - FROM - YOU -

CAPITAL ONE BANK - NON-VIRGIN MEN -

& - WOMEN - SAID - 'U - GAVE - THEM -

AUTHORITY - 2 - TAKE - BECAUSE - XO -

THEY - COULDN'T - GIVE - U - A GREAT -

WEBSITE - THEN - $27,000 - PAYMENT -

PUNISHMENT - 4 - HIRING - USA - YES -

DUMB - COLLEGE - GRADS - $27,000 -

YOUR - LOSS - IT'S - LIKE - U - WENT 2 -

MALL - & - U - WERE - ARMED - ROBBED -

OF - CASH - ACTUALLY NOT THE SAME -

MALL - ROBBER - OF - CASH - U - WERE -

ROBBED - BUT - WHEN - THEY - GAVE -

U - WORST - THAN - B 4 - WEBSITE XO -

THEY - CHARGE - $27,000 - 2 - DESTROY -

WEBSITES - 'DESTRUCTION - OF PRIVATE -

(YOURS) - AND - PUBLIC - PROPERTY HAI -

(SHOPIFY - CANADA) - ROBBED - IN THE -

MALL - NOT - CAPITAL - ONE - BANK - XO -

YOUR - BANK'S - LIABILITY - BECAUSE - U -

WERE - ROBBED - OF - CASH - THUS - IF -

NO - ONE - CLAIMS - REMOVAL - OF XO -

YOUR - MONEY - FR - CAPITAL - ONE XO -

THAT - BANK - KEEPS - YOUR - MONEY -

BUT - IF - THEY'RE - A - GREAT - YES XO -

COUNTRY - RIGHT - NOW - NOT - MANY -

PLACES - ARE - GREAT - BUT - THAT - HAI -

MEANS - YOUR - BANK - ACCOUNT - IS -

SAYING - YOU'RE - STILL - ALIVE - AT XO -

135 YEARS - OLD - RIGHT - NOW - U AT -

LEAST - DIED - AT - 120 YEARS - SO - XO -

HARVARD - LAW - WILL - TRANSFER XO -

YOUR - MONEY - NON-TRACE - TAK'G -

THAT - MONEY - MONETORY - FINES & -

FELONIES - ADDED - 2 - MANY - AMERICANS -

MANY - PAYCHECKS - FROZEN - ALWAYS - XO -

6 MONTHS - GREATEST - COMPUTER - YES XO -

GENIUSES - THEY - COULDN'T - WITH - THEIR -

USA - AGE 246 - BRAINS - COULDN'T - GET XO -

CASHED - NO - MONEY - CHECKS - THE - YES -

6 MONTHS - FREEZE - WAS - HONORED - FOR -

REMEMBER - OUR - GADGETS - HATRED - YES -

ATTEMPTED - ATTACK - OR - ATTACKED - YES -

THEFT - MURDER - PULSE - DISAPPEARS - ALL -

THEM - AND - THEIR - VEHICLES - THUMB -

TRACK.COM - AMERICAN - MEN - YES XO -

ATTACKED - ME - THEY - TRIED - 2 - STEAL -

IMMEDIATELY - $27,000 - BASICALLY - XO -

CALLED - ME - 'BIMBO' - 'YOUR - MONEY -

BELONGS - 2 - US' - SO - FUTURE - WE XO -

DISAPPEAR - THEIR MONEY - VOID THEIR -

CARDS - THROUGH - PROBE - SCAN - USA -

THEY - HAVE - $375,000 - THAT AMOUNT -

DISAPPEARED - FR - THEIR - BANKS XO XO -

THEY - HAVE - 2 - START - AGAIN - WE YES -

LEVEL - THEIR - HOUSES - APT - BUILDG'S -

DISAPPEAR - THEM - BECAUSE - 1 - INCH -

LAWNS - RETRO PINK - MAKATI - GIRLS -

THUMB TRACK.COM - USA - MEN - YES -

TRIED - 2 - MURDER - ME - BY MESSAGE -

SO - LISTEN - CLEAR - ABOUT - TITANIC -

AMERICANS - 'THEY - WE - WILL - ALSO -

SINK' - AS FOREIGNERS - ROBBERY OF -

CASH - FLORIDA - CONCEALED YES XO -

WEAPONS - PERMIT - 21 AND OLDER 4 -

WRINKLED - PRUNE - BAG - FLORIDA -

SENIORS SAGGING LOVE HANDLES -

CATARACT - EYES - WRINKLED FACE -

NUDE - COLONIES - WITH - SENIORS -

WRINKLED - SAGGING - CHESTS - IS -

FLORIDA - WHEY - CHRISTINA GRIMME -

SHOT - AT - L & R - CHEST - HEAD - FOR -

SHE'S - DISNEY - ALSO - AND - WAS IN -

HER - 20s - AND - CAN - SING - DANCE -

SENIORS - NAKED - IN - FLORIDA - JUST -

WALKING - WRINKLED - NOT SINGING -

OR - DANCING - CRISTINA - WAS - YES -

COMPETITION - FLORIDA - SAYS - JUST -

NAKED - WRINKLED - SAGGING - TRUE -

IS - 'GOOD - ENOUGH' - EDISON MALL -

ROBBERY - OF - CASH - GET - FIREARM -

& - FIRE - SHOOT - LEGS - THIGHS - SO -

WEAKENED - GET - PURSE - THEY - YES -

ALSO - GRABBED - CAPITAL - ONE - USA -

BANK - IS - RIGHT - THEY'RE - NOT - YES -

LIABLE - OF CASH - U - WERE MUGGED -

OF SAYING - 'SURPRISED - U - WERE -

NOT - KILLED' - THEY - THEY - KEEP -

YES - YOUR - MONEY - UNLESS XO -

SOMEONE - RECOGNIZES - THAT -

YOU'RE - NOW - AGE 135 - USA - PEOPLE -

LONGEVITY - AGE 78 - KOREA - FR - AGE -

55 - TO - AGE 82 - THANKS - 2 - JAPAN & -

OLYMPICS - JAPAN - INTRODUCED - YES -

EXERCISE - 2 - KOREAN - WHO - JUST XO -

MURDERED - KOREANS - THEY - DIDN'T -

EXERCISE - B 4 - SO - THEY - DIED AT 55 -

(3:23A EDT) - RIGHT - NOW - TRYING - 2 -

FINISH - CANE - SUGAR - WITH - VEGAN -

BELGIAN - CHOCOLATE - SHAKE - SO - I -

ADDED - 2 - BLENDER - BRITA FILTER -

ICE - CUBES - SO PASSABLE - TASTE -

LESS CONTACT - WITH - ARMED US -

POLICE ILLEGALLY - ARMED - GPA -

VERY - LOW - NOT - SMART - NOT -

MARRIED - NOT - VIRGINS - BIBLE -

'DEPART - FR - EVIL' - EARLY - YES -

DEPARTURE - TRAVELOCITY.COM -

HOTELS - SKYSCANNER.COM - 4 - FLIGHTS -

EXPEDIA.COM - YOUR - BACK UP - SO HOT -

(+59,000) - FORT MYERS - POLICE - THEY -

CERTAINLY - ILLEGALLY - ARMED - STOPS -

2 - TALK - 2 - BLIND - 'WHAT'S WITH THE -

BLK - SUNGLASSES' - 'SHE HAS - YES XO -

BEAUTIFUL - EYES' - HASN'T - SEEN - YET -

'NEEDS - STEEL STICK - LIKE - SHE'S - YES -

SKIING - BUT - FLORIDA - NO SNOW' - SO -

MISOGYNY - ASKED - BRUNETTE - 2 - DO -

'DRUNK - TEST' - WHICH - BLIND - GIRL -

DID - HER - NON-DRUNK - GUIDE DOG -

WAS - FLIRTING - FOUND - HER - SOON -

BECAUSE - GOD - KNEW - THAT - WAS -

GOING - 2 - HAPPEN - REMOVED THE -

DOG - FR - SCENE - B 4 - SHOOTING -

OF - DIDN'T - KNOW - WHAT - TRUE -

'SERVICE - DOG' - MEANS - VESTS 4 -

MANY - AMERICANS - NOT - VERY -

BRIGHT - PUBLIC - SCHOOL - TRUE -

TUITION - FR - RESIDENTIAL PROPERTY -

TAXES - HAVE SOLUTION - 2 - WHEN U -

HAVE - 2 - SPEAK - 2 - ARMED - POLICE -

AMAZON.COM - BCOZZY - CHIN - YES -

SUPPORT - TRAVEL PILLOW - PLANES -

POLICE - STATION - PUBLIC - LIBRARY -

WHILE - TYPING - AT - TUMBLR.COM -

TWITTER.COM - UNIQUE US PATENT -

DESIGN - OFFERS - SUPPORT 2 THE -

HEAD - NECK - CHIN - WHEN U - XO -

TRAVEL - AND - AT - HOME READING -

FREE APP - 'FREE BOOKS' - DOMINIC -

O'BRIEN - MEMORY - IMPROVEMENT -

BRITISH - WORLD - MEMORY CHAMP -

AMAZON - AUDIBLES - ($14.95) - YES -

1 MONTH - FREE 2 TITLES - EA MON -

1 TITLE - FREE - INCLUDES - TX - JOEL -

OSTEEN - HIS - BESTSELLERS - COOL -

FULLY - WASHABLE - LARGE - IS - FOR -

ADULTS - UP TO 16 INCH - SMALL - 4 -

KIDS - (AGE 3 - 7) - USA - PUBLIC YES -

SCHOOLS - WON'T - ALLOW - BUT -

DANGEROUS - WITHOUT - WHEN -

YOUR - KIDS - ARE - SLEEPING - AT -

THE - BACK - BY - USA - LAW - U C -

THAT - THEIR - HEADS - GOING - YES -

DOWN - STRONG - ALL - THE - TIME & -

THAT'S - BAD - 4 - THEIR - NECKS - XO -

MUSCLE - PAIN - CREAM - THEN AND -

MANY - MOMS - HAVE - NEVER EVER -

GIVEN - ANYTHING - BUT - VICS YES -

VAPORUB - THEN - AWAKE - SUDDENLY -

BUT - NOW - HEART - AFFECTED WE'RE -

NOW - TAKING - HEART - VITAMINS - & -

MINERALS - THE - PHILIPPINES - NEED -

THIS - MUST - HAVE - GUMMIES - 4 US -

AND - KIDS - 4 - THESE - SUPERB - YES -

HEART - VITAMINS - MINERALS - THEY -

WORK - HEART ATTACK - OCCURS - 2 -

4 - OLDER - WHEN - CHIN - ALWAYS -

DROPPING - 2 - MANY - TIMES - AS -

THEY'RE - SLEEPING - AT - BACK OF -

CARS - 4 AMERICANS - THEY THINK -

HOW FUNNY - AS - DRIVERS - THEN -

THEIR - GRANDFATHER - DIES - LESS -

THAN - 1 MIN - AFTER - MANY CHIN -

DROPS - AS - THEY - BRING - 2 - THE -

HOSPITAL - THEN - AMERICANS ARE -

WEARING - BLK - AND - LISTENING 2 -

LAST - WILL - & - TESTAMENT - 4 - YES -

NON-TAXED - BENEFICIARY CHECKS -

SO - THEY - DON'T - REALLY MOURN -

AS - PEOPLE - NOTICED - OBSERVED -

($25.45) - BCOZZY - CHIN SUPPORT -

TRAVEL - PILLOW - OR - AT - HOME -

AS - U - READ - OR - TYPE - WORDS -

4 - TUMBLR.COM - ESPECIALLY XO -

DURING - GRAVEYARD - SHIFTS -

(12A - 5A) - AS - YOUR - HEADS -

GO - DOWN - & - UP - AS U XO -

TRY - 2 - DANCE - 2 - FINISH AS -

U - REST - ON - SOFA - BEHIND - THEN -

FELL - ASLEEP - CHIN - UP - SO - 2 - YES -

FINISH - TYPING - SO - COMFORTABLY -

KOREAN TV DRAMA NEW - SBS NOW -

MONDAYS - 'LOVERS - OF - THE - RED -

SKY' - WHEN - BLIND - MALE BABE IS -

THIN - AND - SKIN - PERFECT - JUST -

LIKE - LEE JOON GI - BOTH - LOOK -

SO - GOOD - WITH - LONG - HAIR -

BELOW - ALWAYS - SAYS - FICTITIOUS -

NEVER - HAPPENED - WELL - GBC XO -

FILMS - COMEDY ROMANCE DRAMA -

MUSICAL - & - MORE - WE'LL - MAKE -

THAT - MEAN - SOMETHING BETTER -

LIKE - SEE - THRU - ABOVE - HAT YES -

BOTTOM - BUT - GIRLS - IN - MAKATI -

NOT - ALL - HAIR - LONG - SO - DIBA -

LOOKS LIKE - BLK - TAE - ON - THEIR -

HEAD - SO - SMELLS - DON'T - LIKE -

BOTTOM - OF - HAIR - PARANG - IT -

IS - THE - FUTURE - SHORT - HAIR -

SO - IT - WILL - B - LIKE - PONY XO -

TAIL - MAYBE - THEY - AS - KOREANS -

FELT - 'THEY - AS - MALES - LOOK XO -

BETTER - THAN MALE HORSES' - SO -

ETO - 'HINDI' - LAGI THOROUGHBREDS -

MADAMING - MAS - GANDA - LOOKING -

AND - OWNERSHIP - 'AGE - OF - MEN' -

MALE - STAR - RED EYES - PERO LITTLE -

YOUNG - GIRL - BLUE - PUKE - EYES - 2 -

SHOW - POOR - AND - KOREAN - GIRL -

BLIND - LOOKS LIKE - PEBBLES - WHILE -

HE - MALE - BLIND - LOOKS - LIKE - YES -

EXOTIC - BEAUTY - KOREAN - MALES -

WILL - NEVER - CRY - IF - 200,000 KR -

FEMALES - DIED - TOMORROW CASI -

BAKLA - AND - CONCEITED - ABOUT -

THEIR - BEAUTY - TANGA - ALSO FOR -

MALE & FEMALE - PRODUCE - WHAT -

WILL - INCREASE - THEIR - POPULATION -

NOT FERMENTED - KIMCHI - CABBAGE -

SPICY - RUB - AFTER - EATING - WHAT IS -

LEFT - THEN - KOREAN - BABY - WILL XO -

APPEAR - ON - THEIR - BLANKET YES XO -

DURING - FULL MOON - SOME DID YES -

SOMEWHAT - BELIEVE THAT - SO CUTE -

OUR - JOSEON - LIKE - HORSE PONY -

TAIL - WHERE - HAIR - IS - SEE - THRU -

BLK - HATS - ALL WORE - BLACK - XO -

THAT - AREA - NOT - SEE - THRU - XO -

AND - JOSEON - 500 YEARS - POOR -

ALL - WORK - WHITE - INFERIOR YES -

COLOR - WHITE - AND - NOT - SOFT -

INFERIOR - COTTON - CLOTH - AS U -

HAVE - NEVER - SEEN ANY KOREAN -

TV - DRAMA - WITH - THAT - TRUTH -

ONLY - SPECIAL - HOLIDAYS - ANOTHER -

COLOR - ALLOWED - GRAY - BUT - SAME -

INFERIOR - COTTON - BUT - THERE WERE -

TIMES - GRAY - PUT - ON - TOP - OF - SO -

THEY - CAN - ADJUST - 2 - WHITE AGAIN -

SOONER - THAT'S - SO - THEY'LL KNOW -

WHO - ARE - POOR - FASTER - SO - THEY -

WON'T - KNOW - SOFTNESS - OF - YES -

RICHLY - MADE - CLOTH - LIKE - PUPRLE -

WAS - ONLY - ALLOWED - ROYALTY - ON -

EARTH - ESPECIALLY - IN - EUROPE - HAI -

KOREAN - TV DRAMA - JOSEON - ONLY -

USED - BLK - PAINT - NO - COLORS - OR -

THEY - NEVER - CREATED - ANY - 4 - AS -

LAZINESS - AFFECTS - WHY - MAKE XO -

COLORS - WHEN - SKY - BLUE FLOWERS -

HAVE - COLORS - 2 - MAKE - COLOR XO -

PAINT - COLORS - EVERYWHERE - WHY -

THEY - WERE - JUST - GENIUNELY - HAI -

LAZY - LIKE - WE'RE - LAZY - WITH - YES -

AS - GIRLS - ARE - WE - INLOVE - WITH -

BLOND - NCT DREAM RENJUN - CHINESE -

OR - ARE - WE - INLOVE - WITH - KOREAN -

6'1 FT - AGE 20 - SUNGCHAN - MC HOST -

NCT - NCT U - 'HAPPY - BIRTHDAY' - DOLL -

'MONDAY - MONDAY' - (13 SEP 2021) -

'YOU'RE - BEAUTIFUL' - CUTEST DOLL -

'GLAD EVERYTHING - U - WANT 2 DO -

U - DO' - GORGEOUS - SUNG - BIBLE -

'THE - SUPERNATURAL - STRENGTH -

OF YOUTHFUL - MALES' - SEOUL KR -

SUNGCHUN - DARLING - MONDAY -

BOY - BCOZZY - CHIN - SUPPORT 4 -

TRAVEL PILLOW - 4 - NECK AROUND -

THEN GOES UP - 4 - CHIN SUPPORT -

USA POLICE - NON-VIRGINS - THEY -

NEED - VACCINE - NOT EVEN - YES -

MARRIED - THEY'RE - NOT - LEGAL -

DEFINITION - OF - SANITIZED YES -

HUMANS - AGE 246 - NO MANNERS -

AMENDMENTS - NOT - MILITARY XO -

FORCE - ILLEGALLY - ARMED - METAL -

HANDCUFFS - ILLEGAL - WEAPONS -

& - USE - OF - METAL - THEY - BIND 2 -

REMOVE - LIBERTY - RIGHT - 2 - ACT -

AS - ONE - PLEASES - 14TH - NO US -

STATE - (FLORIDA) - CAN - DEPRIVE -

DENY - ANY - PERSON - OF - LIFE & -

LIBERTY - (SHERIFFS - ILLEGAL) - XO -

OCCUPATION - NO - US - STATE XO -

CAN - DEPRIVE - ANY - PERSON OF -

PROPERTY - ESPECIALLY - FULLY XO -

PAID - ILLEGAL - LAW - REPOSSESSION -

OF - HOMES CONDOS - BUSINESS XO -

PROPERTIES - LANDS - 'DEPRIVED - OF -

PROPERTY' - 18TH - 'CRUEL - AND YES -

UNUSUAL - PUNISHMENT' - RIFFLES -

FIREARMS - 21 AND OLDER - MALES -

FEMALES - AMERICANS - AGE 246 -

LA LA LAND - LAND - OF THE FREE -

THUS LONGEVITY - AGE 78 ONLY -

4 - US - SUNG - 'IN - GOD - WE -

TRUST' - THEY'RE - CHANGING -

THAT - 2 - 'IN - TAXES WE TRUST' -

'IN - MONEY - WE - TRUST' - YES -

COOL - BETTER ANCIENT - EGYPT -

INVENTED TAXES - 'REPRODUCTION -

IN - PART - OR - FULL - OFF' - ILLEGAL -

MURDERS - ROBBERS - LAWLESS USA -

SO - NEED - 2 - TALK - 2 - USA POLICE -

SEOUL POLICE - BCOZZY - CHIN -

SUPPORT 4 - TRAVEL PILLOW FOR -

- NECK - 2 - KEEP AWAKE - WHILE -

TALKING - 2 - VULGAR - NON-VIRGIN -

POOR - POLICE - THEY'RE - NOT RICH -

MAKATI - PHILIPPINE - ISLANDS - WE -

ARE - TRAINING - MALE - CATS ONLY -

AS - OUR - DOMESTIC - SERVICE YES -

JUNIORS - SENIORS - 2 - ESCORT THE -

BLIND - COMFORT - BABES - BE - AN -

EMOTIONAL - SUPPORT - NOT - JUST -

1 WORD - COMMANDS - HAND YES -

MOVEMENT - HAND - SILENT - TRUE -

COMMANDS - 2 - CONFUSE - EVIL -

HUMANS - OUTSIDE - MAKATI FOR -

CATS - DON'T - BARK - SO - MORE -

PEACEFUL - 4 - THE - BLIND - THEIR -

MASTERS - ADDITIONAL - SERVICE -

DOMESTICS - NOT - JUST - MALES -

DOGS - AS - GUIDE - DOG - SO XO -

FUTURE - SEOUL POLICE - STATION -

MY - (NOT RELATIVES) - GRANDPAPIES -

WEARING - BCOZZY - CHIN SUPPORT -

2 ROUNDS - THEN - AROUND - NECK -

2 - SUPPORT - WON'T - DOZE - OFF 4 -

PRIVATE - SMALL - PLANES - STILL HAI -

NAVY - BEDS - SO - NICE - 2 - GO - TO -

ARMED - LOCATIONS - OF - UNIFORM -

POOR - PEOPLE - WHO DON'T KNOW -

HOW 2 SHOWER - (FILTERED) - WATER -

THEY - SMELL - ONLY - ARMED - IN - KR -

LIKE - NCI - CIVILIANS - LIKE - CANADA -

NOT ALLOWED - ARMED - UNTIL THEY -

DIE - SO - KILLED - WITH - KITCHEN XO -

KNIVES - STRANGLED - 2 - DEATH - OR -

PUSHED - FR - TALL - BUILDINGS - WILL -

BE - THE - USUAL - LIKE - OSTRICHES -

WHO - BURY - HEAD - IN - SOIL - FOR -

THEY'RE - FEARFUL - CREATURES ARE -

SUICIDAL - ALSO - AS - MALES - EVEN -

AS - 8 FT - TALL - BUT - SOFT - COVER -

ON - HEADS - 2 - COVER - EYES - YES -

ESPECIALLY - SUICIDE - & - FEAR - XO -

GONE - 2 - THAT DOES - WORK FOR -

THEM - SO - BRINGING - MY - BRIT -

MALE - CAT - HOPE - SMALL CHILD -

SIZE - (AGE 3-7) - WILL - FIT MY XO -

MALE - PUREBRED - KITTEN - 4 - IT -

IS - WHAT - THEY - NEED - THOSE -

BEAUTIFUL - LIVING - FUR - SUCH -

PERFECTION - OF - BEAUTY - AS I -

MAKE - SURE - THEY'RE - WEAR'G -

SHOES - AND - WELL - DRESSED 4 -

WEATHER - ALSO - CLEAR - FACE -

SHIELD - WITH - COLORS ABOVE -

LIKE - SUNGLASSES - THEN THEY -

WEAR - CHILD - BCOZZY - CHIN -

THEN - ALSO - NECK - SUPPORT -

AS - IT - ROUNDS - ITSELF - IN 2 -

AREAS - I'M - WEARING - SAME -

BOTH - OF - US - MATCHING XO -

THEN - LIKE - CARRYING - BABY -

HOLDING - MITSUO - ONE SIDE -

SO - HANDS - FREE - HIS - COLLAR -

ATTACHED - 2 - IF - SUDDEN - RUN -

INCREASES IN LENGTH BUT AUTO -

GENTLY - EASES - 4 - END - OF THE -

LEASH - BRINGS BACK - 2 ME FOR -

NOTHING - WILL - DEFEAT US - MY -

DARLING - MITSU - IN - FUTURE XO -

WITH - MY - 2 - TEACUP - MALTESE -

MALES - ALL - 4 - OF US - A - QUAD -

WE - WILL - 'WAKE UP - THE - SUN' -

GOD - SAID - 'COMMAND - HIM' - SO -

I - COMMANDED GOD - 2 - MAKE MY -

LIFE - MORE BEAUTIFUL - RICHER YES -

BETTER - HEALTHIER STRONGER AND -

COMMANDED - GOD - 2 - MAKE - MY -

LOOKS - YOUNGER - ADAM - 900 YRS -

OLD - NO - WRINKLES - PERFECT - EYE -

SIGHT - I COMMAND - GOD - 2 MAKE -

MY EYES - SEE - BETTER - THAN ADAM -

NOT - BORN - AGAIN - COULDN'T XO -

SPEAK - IN - TONGUES - WE'RE MORE -

POWERFUL - THAN - PEOPLE - 2,000 -

YEARS - AGO - B 4 - JESUS - ARRIVED -

ON - EARTH - COMMANDED IN THE -

NAME - OF - JESUS - MAKATI - I'M XO -

BRINGING - MITSUO - MANY PLACES -

BOTH - OF - US - ALWAYS MATCHING -

BETTER - CAMOUFLAGE - BLENDING -

ALWAYS - THAT - BCOZZY - NECK - 2 -

KEEP - CHIN - UP - COMFORT - NECK -

TRAVEL - PILLOW COLORS - 2 BLEND -

WITH - OUR - CLOTHES - MY - YES AS -

CAT - DOMESTIC - SERVICE TRAINED -

JESUS - IS - LORD - USA - POLICE - YES -

SHOOT - DOGS - CATS - EUROPE AND -

ASIA - EAT - THEM - THUS - THE BLACK -

PLAGUE - WIPED - OUT - NORTH ASIA -

EUROPE - AFRICA - TOTAL IN EUROPE -

1347 - 14TH - CENTURY - GOREO - XO -

ENDEED - IN - THE - 14TH - KINGDOM -

OF KOREA - (+1 MILLION - YEARS - KR) -

BLK DEATH - PLAGUE - CLAIMED - AN -

ASTONISHING - 20 MILLION - LIVES -

JUST 4 YEARS - REASON - THEY ATE -

CATS - KITTENS - DOGS - PUPPIES & -

SELDOM BATHE - AS - HUMANS XO -

& - PROMISCUOUS - LET - KIDS - GO -

ANYWHERE - DO - ANYTHING - SO -

NEVER CARED - THAT MUCH - FOR -

SOCIAL - REASONS - ACCEPTANCE -

KIDS - MADE - NOT - BECAUSE - SO -

2 - LOVE - THEM - NOT LOVING XO -

PEOPLE - CURRENTLY - COV-ID - 19 -

KILLED - WORLD - TOTAL - & - NEW -

(4,701,438) - (2,276) - ASIA - TRUE -

(1,096,130) - 608 - LARGEST - POP -

CHINA - (+1.4 BILLION) - INDIA - 2 -

(+1.3 BILLION) - EUROPE - THAT'S -

(1,203,173) - (865) - CORONAVIRUS -

RESPIRATORY - DISEASE - BUT - USA -

AMAZON - CLEAR - FACE - MASK - 2 -

OPEN - ON SIDES - SO - INVENTORS -

EASY - 2 PERFECT - THAT - CLEAR XO -

MASK - THEN SELL - CHEAPER - HOT -

BRITISH - SHORTHAIR - CATS USING -

U - PUT - LIKE - GLASSES - BUT CLEAR -

COVERING - FACE - CUTE - BUT ALSO -

BLOCKS - FOG - SO - FACE - DOESN'T -

BECOME WET - (PNEUMONIA) - AND -

THAT - KILLS KIDS - BABIES - SENIORS -

EVIL - ARMED - MEN - AND - WOMEN -

NOT - MARRIED - AND - NON-VIRGIN -

EVIL - GOATS - FLORIDA - ALL - NUDE -

COLONY - LIKE BACK - 2 - CAVE AGE -

THEY MERGE FAST - SO - ABORTION -

CLINIC FREE - 4 - AGE 18 - & - OLDER -

LIKE - XFINITY - BACK - 2 - CABLE SO -

EXCITED 4 U - GOT - MORE MONEY -

ME - THEY - FORGOT CABLE BOXES -

ANOTHER - CALL - NEW - ROKU TV -

STICK - USB - AND - HDMI - OR - XO -

ELECTRICITY - PLUG - WITH - HDMI -

XFINITY - STREAM - PLUS - OUR XO -

NEED - GOOGLE - MOVIES - WE -

PAID 4K - 8K - HD - ($39.99) - AT -

AMAZON.COM - WE'VE - BEEN -

PAYING RENTAL BOXES - ILLEGAL -

OMISSION - OF - TRUTH - FAMILY -

OWNED USA - ($0 - $250,000 FINE) -

(AND - OR - IMPRISONMENT) - THEY -

EMAIL - MONTHLY - NONE - THAT -

SAID - ROKU - STICK - ($39.99) - SO -

NO - NEED - ANYMORE - 4 - CABLE -

BOX RENTALS - OWNERSHIP NOW -

2 - SONY HDTVs - 1 MORE - $39.99 -

GOOGLE - MOVIES - 4K - 8K - & HD -

MORE - MONEY - 2 - BUY - FILMS & -

U - OWN - BEST - PART - IN - EVENT -

OF - FIRE - YOU'RE - INSURED AND -

GOOGLE - MOVIES - FOREVER YES -

STORAGE AND - WHAT U BOUGHT -

DIDN'T - BURN - WHEN - YOUR XO -

HOUSE - OR - APT - BURNT - TIME 2 -

BUY - WISELY - IN - THE - FUTURE - 4 -

CAN'T - B - BURNT - IS - EXCITING & -

THE - FUTURE - (6:23A EDT) - SMALL -

COUNTRIES - MAS - MAGANDA - XO -

MANY - MEAN - 'LABO' - WE - LOVE -

AND - SERVE - OUR - INVISIBLE GOD -

WHO - LOVED - US - FIRST - WAITED -

'TIL - WE WERE - BORN - AND NOW -

THAT - LOVE - WE - HAVE - FR - HIM -

OTHERS - DON'T - HAVE - KOREA -

DOESN'T - HAVE - SO - THEY ARE -

LIKE - LAMBS - SLAUGHTERED - & -

FAN DOM - INCREASES - LAUGHS -

THEN - 3 KOREAN - FEMALES - AS -

THEY'RE - STABBED - 2 - DEATH -

VICOUSLY - SWIFT - AND - FAST -

BY - UGLY - KOREAN - MALE - AS -

HE - ENJOYED - HIS - VICTORY 4 -

HE - AGE 24 - KILLED - FAST ALSO -

AGE 24 - KOREAN - GIRL - 4 THEY -

DON'T - DATE - OR - PLANNED - 2 -

MARRY - POOR & UGLY KOREANS -

HE - STABBED - THEM - 2 - DEATH -

WENT - ALL - THE - WAY - AFTER -

STABBED - MORE - THE KOREAN -

GOAT - KILLED THEM - 4 - HE XO -

DETESTED - SHE - WAS NOT -

GOING 2 MARRY - HIM FOR -

THOSE REASONS STABBED -

HER MOM - BECAUSE - NOT -

LIVING - WITH - HER HUSBAND -

NOT - MARRYING SOON - AND -

HE - DIDN'T - LIKE THAT - KILLED -

THEM - 4 - NOT - ORGY - 4 - HIM -

2 OF THEM - WITH HIM - 3 DAYS -

ATE - FOOD - FR - THEIR - APT - IN -

SEOUL - NORTH - KOREAN MOM -

& - YOUNG - SON - DIDN'T STAB -

FR - THE - DOOR - OPENED - 2 -

KILL - ALL - INSIDE - 2 - EAT ALL -

THEIR - KOREAN FOOD - THEY -

JUST DIED - WITH - DIGNITY FR -

'ACUTE - HUNGER' - EVEN YES -

SEOUL - POLICE - REFUSED - 2 -

EVEN - GIVE - A - JOB - 2 THEY -

CAN EAT - INSTEAD OF - STABBING -

KOREANS - 2 - GET - INSIDE - THEIR -

APTS - 2 - EAT - FOOD - THEY - DIED -

WITH - DIGNITY - IN - THEIR SEOUL -

APT - RENT - LAST - MONTH - PAID -

WHO'S - BETTER - WELL - THEIR -

MISTAKE - WAS - THEY - RISKED -

SHOOTING - 2 - GO - 2 - SOUTH -

KOREA - WHEN - PILIPINAS WAS -

BETTER - WARMER - FRIENDLIER -

CHEAPER - FOOD & DRINK - SO -

ANSWER - 'NORTH - KOREANS -

ARE - BETTER' - JESUS - IS LORD -

PINOYS - BCOZ - 'DAHIL' - 'Z Z' -

IS - 'SIRA - ULO' - DEE DEE - Z Z -

SLEEPS - SOON - 'ZY' - SIYA AY -

KOREAN - MALE - BCOZZY - IS -

'SICK' - BCOZZY - IS - WEIRDO -

WE'RE - ALL - LEAVING - SEOUL -

ALL - OF - KOREA - SOON DIBA -

'STRONGER SOMEWHERE -

ELSE' - 'MABUHAY' - 'LIVE -

LONG - FINISH - STRONG' -

GLORIA COPELAND - PAPERBACK -

FORT WORTH - TEXAS - TX - THUS -

AMAZON.COM - BCOZZY - CHIN -

SUPPORT - TRAVEL - PILLOW - YES -

UNIQUE - US - PATENT - MACHINE -

WASHABLE - 'BE - COZZY' - Z Z -

SLEEPING - SOON - PRETTY XO -

COLORS - ($25.45) - AMAZON -

PRIME - FREE - DELIVERY TRULY -

ARRIVES - TOMORROW - MON -

20 SEP 2021 - ORDER - WITHIN -

16 HRS - 36 MIN - THEY - ALSO -

ACCEPT - SNAP - EBT - THAT'S -

COOKIES & CREAM FAT BURN -

MEAL - REPLACE - 40% - OFF -

1ST - SUSCRIBE - OFFER - FOR -

REPEAT - 'PURCHASES' - 15% -

OFF - (150 CAL) - (5:55P PHT) -

HOPE - YOUR - SUNSET WAS -

BEAUTIFUL - & - NOW - 9:02P

4 notes · View notes